#fastandfeminist

[daddywillmiller]

Hi Daddy! I missed you, I hope things are wonderful for you!!

Hi sweetheart! Aww I miss you too. Thank you. Things are going good for me so far. Getting adjusted to some big changes that just happened but I think things are going to work out just fine. I hope things are wonderful for you as well.

[musings-of-a-rose]

I CAN HAND DELIVER MESSAGES TO GARRETT ON SUNDAY!!

Hey everyone! I’ll be meeting Garrett on Sunday (!!!!) and would love to take any of your messages, etc to him and hand deliver them! If you’d like to send him a message or whatever, you can pm me here or send me an ask (don’t worry - I’ll leave your Tumblr name out of it and won’t post the ask) and I’ll print them out and hand them to him. 

The deadline would be Saturday night, 4/1 by like 10pm EST (as I have to get up early the next day). 

I'm going to put my taglists for him here in case ya'll want in:

All TF Boys:

@unic0rntaking0ver17645 @ahsokathearcher @thatpinkshirt @Whovianayesha @dobbyjen @tanzthompson @goodgriefitsawildworld @triggerhappyflygirl @jaime1110  @thisisthewaytofiction @kirsteng42 @xowlan @rosechvnel @ew-erin @hungrhay @maievdenoir @starlite41 @mrsparknuts @hotchlover @wildmoonflower @1andthesame @weasleywinchester @agentminnesota187 @nembees @paintlavillered @trickstersp8 @alwaysdjarin @trinkets01 @littlenosoul @witchygagirl @dindjarinswhore @your-voice-is-mellifluous @emilianamason @monalisastwin @modernperplexity 

Benny Miller Taglist:

@rebel-fanfare @corrabell @khiraeth @itspdameronthings @whiskeymeaway92  @blueeyesatnight @fastandfeminist  @glitzalia  @igotmajordaddyissues @bport76 @pretty-girl-likes-tea  @mermaidxatxheart @skvatnavle @im-ricks-flagg @nicolethered  @fabilei @darlingchanse @pascallllllll1 @Prostitute-robot-from-the-future @daniacat @its-a-show-stoppin-number

[mothandpidgeon]

taglist number 2 rb (sorry i'm so late getting to this!)

@mstgsmy @uncle-kenobi @astoryisaloveaffair @mishasminion360 @jazzyllemmon @justjaclin @whatisawwhileoutandabout @glimmering-darling-dolly @Fastandfeminist @safe-teycar @fic-appointment @tintinn16 @thegirlnextdoorssisters  @bearcina @dumplinshee @daore @colbychu @hvngmanstrick @s-u-t @scarlets-widow @tanzthompson @audreyispunk @jooordanharrrop @a3trogirl @mando831 @buckybarneshairpullingkink @onetimeinjedicamp @hotchlover @vivhoodie @zaynzierulez @michi-reads @meshlasolus @quarksnuts @hello-i-am-daydreaming @alpaca-swimsuit @wiimpii @pjkimrn  @detective carisi-1 @feminist-violinist  @colbychu @Rawrrimamonsterr @sanasnacks @dumplinshee @hauntedmama @dannyramirezwife @​​evankemlpp @Stankferrick @perennialdoll247

@chronic-nosebleed @evyiione @naughtynecromancer @filthy-thots @woodland-mist @missminkylove @http-usagi @classic-criminals @withasideofmeg @horton-hears-a-honk @buttercup-bee @justreadingthings @writings-of-a-hufflepuff @wildmoonflower @thevoiceinyourheads @milly-louise

Homecoming (Joel Miller x f!reader x Frankie Morales)

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader x Frankie Morales, no outbreak!Joel Miller

Summary: Frankie asks his neighbor to keep an eye on things while he's in South America.

“I think that’s what he wants,” Joel finally speaks. His voice is low and dark, his eyes narrow. He’s talking to you but he’s looking right at Frankie. “I think when he asked me to look after you, he was hoping to come home to that. To see his woman treated right by another man. Tell me I ain’t right.”

Words: 5.6k

Rating: E 18+

Warnings: Frankie has to watch, he likes it, cuckolding, dom Joel, oral sex, voyeurism, orgasm denial, hand job, mentions of Frankie's addiction, toxic relationship, Frankie kind of sucks (canon, I said what I said), Joel steal your girl Miller (I'm sure I forgot some, let me know!)

a/n: I'll be honest, I don't see how Frankie was coming home to anything other than divorce papers after leaving his lady with a new baby (suggesting other babies!?) and giving all of his money away. Let's torment him!

As always thanks to @ezrasbirdie for the beta. Consider this my toxic Catalyst verse.

MASTERLIST - JOIN THE TAGLIST

--

Frankie drums his fingers on his thigh. Flight leaves in an hour and he’s thinking about the front door. 

He should be thinking about this gig. It’s risky as hell. If things go sideways, they’ll be completely fucked in the jungle with a narco on their ass. The money’s good but there are a hundred ways it could get hairy. 

But you had a bad habit of leaving the front door unlocked. You’d done it just the day before when you picked the baby up from daycare. 

“Christ, Frankie. My hands were full, ok?” you said when he mentioned it.

“Just don’t forget while I’m gone. You’ll be alone with the kids and I don’t want the house to be wide open,” he said. 

“If you’re so worried about us, don’t go,” you said.

You’d given him a raft of shit about it. Leaving you with a baby and a three year old and no help. 

“You promised me you were done doing stupid shit,” you said. 

He’s promised you a lot of things. 

You’re still so pissed that when he kissed Franny and the baby goodbye, you barely acknowledged he was leaving. 

Which means if something does happen, you’ll never forgive him. He’s biting on the side of his thumb when he reaches for his phone.  

 …I’m going out of town for a bit but I’d feel a lot better if you’d just keep an eye on things…

He shoots the text off to his neighbor. Frankie doesn’t know him all that well—they’ve shared some beers at backyard barbecues— but he’s a good guy. His daughter babysits Franny all the time. Frankie feels a little better. At least you’ll be safe while he’s not there. 

—

When Joel sees you a few days after he gets the text from Frankie, he knows you’re going through it. 

You’re juggling a diaper bag, keys, and a water bottle while trying to lug the car seat up the front walk. The humidity isn’t doing anything kind to your hair and he’s pretty sure he saw you wearing the same yoga pants and oversized t-shirt the day before. Your daughter is whining about something he can’t quite make out from his driveway. She hovers around you doing dramatic, exasperated stomps. 

He remembers Sarah at that age. It was hard enough to be a single parent to one, he can’t imagine how you’re doing it with two even if it’s just temporary. 

Joel has to admit, he’d be looking over at you even if Frankie hadn’t asked. He likes you. You always ask about Sarah and even remember her birthday. When she stays late babysitting, you stand at the door and watch to make sure she gets in safe even though she’s just crossing the yard. And he’ll admit it, you’re attractive. He knows you’re spoken for but  he can’t help the way his eyes linger when you’re bent over the back seat vacuuming up cheerios. 

“Maybe when daddy gets back,” Joel hears you say. You’re out of breath but trying to keep a light air in your voice. 

“But when is he coming home?” she complains. 

The little girl tugs on your arm and the carefully balanced tower in your hand topples to the ground, the bottle making an especially loud clang that sets the baby off crying. 

“Franny!” you snap. 

“I didn’t mean to,” Franny says. 

You pinch the bridge of your nose. Joel watches your chest rise and fall, one deep breath to collect yourself. He imagines that you’re counting to ten in your head as he’s done a thousand times.  

“I know, mija,” you say. 

You run a hand over your messy hair and begin collecting your keys from the grass. Joel’s sure you’re on the edge of tears. 

“You need a hand?” he calls over. 

You’re startled when you look over at him. Maybe you’d been so focused on getting everybody into the house, you hadn’t even noticed he was in his yard. Your brows knit together and it looks like you’ve been clenching your jaw for hours. Finally, your shoulders lower slightly and Joel feels like he’s lifted the weight right off of you just by asking. 

“Yeah, actually,” you say. 

—

Motherhood is torture. Even on the good days. You’re covered in spit up and boogers and sticky lollipop sugar. Your eyes are ringed from sleep deprivation. Most meals are the sandwich crusts Franny refuses to eat. 

But what really gets to you is the noise. Franny is a chatterbox, the baby is always at an 11, and the house is full of plastic toys that each play a series of increasingly infuriating songs. Even the white noise machine feels like taking a cheese grater to your ears. 

It’s not so bad when you can share the load. But Frankie’s gone. He’s been gone more and more often. A stint in rehab. Pounding the pavement for a new job. Now off with Pope and the guys being weekend warriors. You’ve lost count of the number of second chances you’ve given him.

You’re just about to lose your shit when Joel calls over to you. He’s a godsend. He carries the carseat into the house for you and has Sarah come over to help keep Franny entertained. He insists you take a shower– something you haven’t had time to do in three days– and when you come back into the kitchen, you nearly burst into tears when you see he’s done the dishes.

The kids are in bed now and Sarah’s gone back next door to do homework. Joel sets grilled cheese sandwiches on the table for the two of you and you give him one of Frankie’s beers. 

“A little crispy,” Joel says as way of apology for the bread that’s absolutely blackened. “Cooking’s not really my thing.”

“That’s ok. It’s just nice to have someone else do it for a change,” you say. “Thanks again. And Sarah too. She’s a good kid.”

“She is.” Joel smiles to himself. 

“You raised her right,” you say and his blush is so handsome. 

He’s older than Frankie but just as good looking. Strong arms, narrow waist. The light over the kitchen table picks up all the gray hairs around his temples. He’s definitely not hard to look at after a long day. 

Eventually it comes up.

“So where’s your man off to?” Joel asks innocently enough.

“Fuck if I know,” you grumble. You don’t want to think about him, not now in this nice moment. You weren’t pretending to play house with Joel but you didn’t mind forgetting about Frankie for an hour or two. “Maybe he‘ll do us a favor and stay there.”

You don’t mean it. Years of putting up with his crap has made you bitter, downright mean. 

“He asked me to check in on you while he was gone,” Joel says.

“He did?” you ask and he nods. “I wish you hadn’t told me that.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because every time I decide I’m done with him, he does something sweet and I lose my nerve.”

Joel’s quiet. Probably doesn’t know how to respond to such a personal bombshell when he was just making small talk.

“Sorry. You don’t want to hear my business.”

“Did I say that?” Joel asks. 

You sigh. His eyes are so kind and you’re so goddamn tired.

“He told me three days before that he was going. Doing some Rambo shit with his boys. He said it was going to pay well and I can’t argue with him there because we need the money because he lost his job. Drugs. I couldn’t even call my sister and ask for her help this week because I was so embarrassed. You know how many times she’s told me to dump his ass? And I should, you know. I’ve got nobody to blame but myself.”

By now, you can feel tears coming. You’re so angry with Frankie and you’re mad at yourself. You can’t imagine what Joel must think— that you’re an idiot, that you’re weak. 

But he cups your chin in his big hand. He’s got a deep crease between his eyebrows and, the way he’s looking at you, you feel like someone’s seeing you for the first time in years. “That’s not true. You don’t deserve any of that.” 

The air feels thick between you and you feel so fucking grateful for the words he’s just said. 

You kiss him, practically falling into his lips. He’s been so damn good to you and it’s been so long since you’ve felt taken care of. And he kisses you back. He pulls you into him. His thumb strokes your cheek and he opens his mouth to you. You can taste the beer on his tongue and it’s familiar. You’ve tasted it a thousand times on Frankie. 

You realize what you’re doing. You’re sick of Frankie’s shit but he’s still your partner, the father of your children. Maybe this is really the last straw and you’ll finally end it with him but you haven’t yet. You’ve always considered yourself the better person, the bigger one, who put the kids first and doesn’t keep secrets. You don’t get to act all morally superior if you’re cheating on Frankie. 

You break away and slap a hand over your mouth. 

“Fuck. Shit. I’m sorry,” you say. 

“No. That’s alright.” Joel’s blinking like he’s trying to make sense of what just happened. “My fault. I came on too strong there. You’re having a bad day. I didn’t mean to take advantage.”

“I want to but I shouldn’t,” you tell him. You’ve never felt so mixed up in your life. “I guess I’ve got some thinking to do.”

Joel stands. “Listen, why don’t I get out of here. You can go to bed early.”

You’re mortified. He’s practically running away because you’re acting like a maniac. This man was kind to you for a minute and you blew it. 

“Sorry again. Thank you,” you add as an afterthought. 

He lingers in the doorway. 

“Why don’t I bring Sarah back tomorrow if you’re still needing help? Promise I can keep my hands to myself,” he says with a little chuckle. “Unless…maybe you just want Sarah?” He’s jiggling his hand nervously. 

You feel the faintest relief. You want him to come back. Not just for kissing purposes. He made you feel less alone. 

“That’s be great. Both of you,” you say. 

He gives you a sweet smile before leaving you to bury your face in your hands. 

—

Frankie knows what to expect when he gets back. When he finally got cell service, you’d sent it his call straight to voicemail. He couldn’t blame you. He’d all but disappeared. And now he was returning home with nothing to show for it. 

It’s not like this is the first time. He’s slept on Will and Benny’s couch more than once, come home to an empty house with a note on the kitchen table that you took Franny to your friend’s place. Don’t call until you get your shit together. 

He’s got a whole speech in his head that he’s been thinking about for days. He wishes that he could tell you how close he’d come to death and how much he wants to turn things around but even he knows how hollow those words sound. This time he’s going to make it up to you. 

It’s dark when he gets in. The house is quiet. He’s nervous again, jingling his keys in his hand. You’re sitting at the kitchen table which means he’s in deep shit. He’s ready to launch into his monologue but Frankie’s thrown off when he sees his neighbor sitting beside you. 

“Is everything ok?” he asks, eyes darting between you and your guest. His mind immediately goes to the darkest places, worse things than the failure of your relationship. 

“No, Frankie,” you say. 

“Did something happen to the baby?” Adrenaline floods him for what must be the millionth time since he last stood in this room. 

You sigh. “The kids are fine. They’re next door. Sarah’s watching them.”

“Oh.”

There’s a long pause where Frankie tries to recollect everything he was going to tell you, all of the promises he’d really keep this time. All he can think about is the fact that Joel’s sitting there looking at him like he’s a piece of shit. Frankie pushes up the brim of his hat to rub his forehead.

“Do I have to say it?” you ask. You look as exhausted as he feels. “I can’t do this any more.”

“I know,” Frankie says. 

The guilt has made his throat go dry. He’s fucked up so many things. He remembers the last time you were sitting there, the little bag of white powder you’d found in his jacket resting on the table.

“You said you were extending the trip. I haven’t heard from you in a week,” you go on. 

“Can we talk about this alone, baby?” he asks. 

“No I don’t think so,” you tell him. 

It’s hard enough to face the fact that he’s five minutes from losing you with without someone gawking. He shifts awkwardly. 

“Can you give us a minute, man?” Frankie tries. 

“Stay,” you tell Joel. 

You put your hand on his upper arm and Frankie feels sick. He can tell just by that touch that Joel’s not just your shoulder to cry on. It boils in his gut. 

“You’re going to do this in front of a stranger?” Frankie asks. It comes out louder than he meant. He’s got no business being angry. Not when he drove you away. But it’s suddenly not so easy to own up to his own failures. 

“Frankie,” you say, level and quiet. 

Joel crosses his arms and it feels like a warning. If Frankie doesn’t get his emotions in check, he will. Frankie’s almost tempted to test him. It would feel good to get hit. 

“What’s this? Did you fuck him?” he asks. 

Frankie wants to hear you say yes, to feel the knife slide in and twist. 

“I didn’t,” you snap back. “But I wish I had.” You look like you want to stuff them back into your mouth but you raise your chin defiantly. 

The words rattle around in Frankie’s ears. It hurts just the way he thought it would, imagining you spread out over this man’s lap. 

There’s another feeling, too. He can’t name it. There’s a place where jealousy turns into violence but somehow it’s taken a left turn to self loathing. You deserve to have someone to make you feel good and Frankie, well, he’s hitting rock bottom again. 

“I think that’s what he wants,” Joel finally speaks. His voice is low and dark, his eyes narrow. He’s talking to you but he’s looking right at Frankie. “I think when he asked me to look after you, he was hoping to come home to that. To see his woman treated right by another man.”

Frankie’s glaring at him but his breath shallows. The gravel in Joel’s voice goes straight to his groin. It’s twisted and he ought to punch Joel right in the mouth. Instead he’s frozen in place wondering why the blood is rushing to his cock. 

Joel stands lazily and takes two steps to cross the distance between them. His eyes travel up Frankie’s body, slow, dangerous, until he meets his gaze. He’s mere inches away, close enough that Frankie can smell the clean scent of his soap.

“Tell me I ain’t right,” Joel says. 

—

You’re on your feet in a flash to pull Joel away before they can come to blows but then you spy the growing bulge in Frankie’s pants. Your eyes go wide. Suddenly you're flooded with arousal though you can’t explain why. It should piss you off but you can’t help but imagine the look on his face if he’d walked in on you riding Joel in his own bed. You want to see it. 

Before a cooler head prevails, you’re pulling Joel by the hand down the hall to your bedroom. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Frankie asks, following behind. 

“Looks like you’re getting your wish,” Joel says. 

Frankie stands there gaping but he doesn’t do anything to stop you. 

“You can stay there and watch or you can leave,” you tell him. That last word has a heavy finality to it. This isn’t like the other times when you took him back. He’s not coming home again. 

Frankie says nothing, just shuts his mouth. 

“You want to do this, sweetheart?” Joel asks. His tone is gentle. 

You’re breathless. You’ve been fantasizing about fucking Joel since he swooped in and saved you. Behind Frankie’s back, maybe, not right in front of his face. But you want him to see, to know exactly what he lost each time he fucked up. You want to punish him. 

“Yes,” you say and your eyes fall on Frankie. 

His expression is a strange mixture of hunger and melancholy. Those sweet brown eyes are always what make you take him back no matter how much he’s hurt you. 

“Pretend he’s not here,” Joel says, guiding your face back to him with his fingertips. 

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” you say. It feels so good to be cruel. 

“Good girl.” 

His praise makes your mouth twitch into a smile.

“Tell him to take his clothes off,” you say.  

 Joel’s brows tick up. 

“You heard her. Show her how hard you got,” he says. 

“You fucking kidding?” Frankie asks but his words are toothless. 

“You can go right now,” you say. 

Frankie’s jaw shifts, grinding his molars. As he hesitates, Joel grabs the brim of his hat and pulls it off of Frankie’s curls. He examines the old thing with disinterest, then tosses it to the floor. 

“Strip,” he demands. 

The command makes you clench. 

Joel turns his attention back to you once Frankie’s reluctantly begun to work at the buttons of his shirt. He brushes your cheekbone with the back of his knuckles, the pad of his thumb on your lips. 

“Been thinking about kissing you since the other day,” he tells you. 

His lips brush against yours, his nose nuzzling your cheek. The prickle of his mustache makes you gasp. 

“Went home and thought about doing more than kissing you,” he says. 

Your cheeks heat. He gives you a good, proper kiss now, pulling you in with a hand on your waist. It’s deep and slow, practically romantic though you’re in a situation that feels quite the opposite. Either way, you’re left swooning a little, tangling your fingers into his full hair so your knees don't buckle. 

Frankie’s completely bare and Joel glances in his direction. His eyebrows lift momentarily when he catches sight of Frankie’s erection then he scoffs quietly and goes back to kissing you. He gets his hands under your shirt and slides it over your head. 

You can feel Frankie’s eyes dancing over the two of you. You crack yours open to look at him while you let Joel’s tongue into your mouth. It’s like he’s watching a car crash and he can’t look away— horrified, exhilarated, disgusted. It feels as sinful as Joel’s mouth traveling down your neck. 

You want Frankie to know just how badly you want this so you snake your hand down to palm at Joel’s cock straining against his jeans. He’s big, more than a handful. Joel groans against your collar bone. Frankie winces. 

Joel’s touch leaves goosebumps on your skin. He trails his fingers down your chest and teases around the fabric of your bra. You unhook it and toss it aside then wriggle out of your pants. He lets out a low hum at the sight of you exposed. 

“I’d hate to be the man that let this gorgeous thing get away,” Joel says. 

He cups your breast, then puts his mouth to it. His teeth graze against your nipple and you hear Frankie hiss before you do. 

Joel sits down on the bed, the one you’ve shared with Frankie for years, and draws you down to his lips. As he kisses you, his forefingers notch in the waistband of your panties and drags them down painfully slowly. He’s drawing it out for his audience, inch by inch before dropping them to the floor. His eyes look over the newly revealed flesh hungrily. The heat of his gaze and Frankie’s longing stare has you slick and needy. 

Joel turns you around and sits you between his legs. He pulls you into his chest and spreads your legs wide, putting you on display for Frankie. His fingers strum at you, feather light and your hips buck. 

“Fuck,” you sigh. 

“Sensitive,” he says. 

His stubble bites into your shoulder as he continues to touch you, carefully, finding the spots that make you melt. You tip your head back into him, tuck your face into the crook of his neck as you  begin to lose yourself to pleasure. He smells so good— earthy and fresh and masculine. You want his scent all over your sheets. 

“Come here. On your knees,” Joel commands. 

Frankie swears under his breath but he obeys, kneeling in front of you, his nostrils flaring as he watches you writhe under Joel’s touch. 

“Open up,” Joel says and swats at Frankie’s cheek. 

It doesn’t seem like he used much force but still you say, “Don’t hurt him.”

None of the scars you have from Frankie are physical. 

“That’s okay,” Frankie mumbles. 

You’re surprised by him once again. He wants it, the full force of this torture. 

“Yeah. She’s too nice to you,” Joel tells him. 

He sticks two thick fingers into Frankie’s mouth, so deep that he gags. Joel returns them to your pussy, sliding one inside. The stretch pulls a dreamy sigh from you as the heel of his hand creates unbelievable friction against your clit.

Frankie’s eyes are riveted to the spot where Joel’s finger disappears inside of you.  

“Hey,” Joel barks. 

You look past the edge of the bed to see Frankie’s hand over his dick, thumb brushing down its length. It’s glazed in strands of precum, desperate. 

“Hold on, beautiful,” Joel says, kissing your neck and removing his hand. He shifts around you on the bed and stands up. 

“Do you think ought to be doing that?” Joel asks. 

You bite down on your lip at the sight of him towering over Frankie, fully clothed while the other man shrinks beneath him like a scolded puppy. 

“Next time you want to touch yourself, think about how you wronged this woman.”

Frankie makes a choked sound and he looks up at you with an apology in his eyes. Your first impulse is to go to him, comfort him, but then you remember why you’re here— the litany of fuck ups you’ve had to suffer. The nights you were home with the baby while Frankie went to Benny’s fights. The money that went up his nose. The excuses you made for him. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. He’ll make it up to you. You know what she likes?” Joel asks him. 

Frankie nods. 

“Show me.”

Frankie moves slowly like he’s worried Joel’s trying to trick him. He puts his lips to you, tongue rounding your clit in the way that always drives you wild. Your head falls back with a long, slow release of breath. There’s no denying how good those luscious strokes feel. If there’s one thing you can count on, it’s Frankie disappointing you and then giving you a mind blowing orgasm as penance. 

As you rock your hips up towards his mouth, he starts to work faster like his life depends on it. Little grunts escape him and the sensation mounts, muscles tensing. 

“Joel,” you whine as if he’s the one that’s making your legs begin to shake. 

Frankie falters for just a second upon hearing the other man’s name. Though he lost that perfect rhythm, knowing you’ve hit him again makes up for it. 

You go inwards, focusing all of your attention on the heat at your core, sure that you’ll break at any moment. 

Suddenly, he’s gone and you gasp, your high stolen away. You look up to see Joel holding Frankie back by the scruff of his neck.

“You don’t get to make her cum,” Joel says. 

If you were disappointed, Frankie looks absolutely devastated to be parted from you. His face is screwed up in torment, his glistening lower lip turned down in a frown. 

Joel casts him aside and takes his place between your thighs. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says, hooking his forearms around your open thighs. 

His strokes are different but it feels just as dizzying. You close your eyes and lay back again, melting into his wet mouth. He hums against your lips and you feel it vibrate through your whole body. It’s been such a long time since you’ve felt something wholly different, the newness makes everything you experience heightened. 

It’s not long before your ass is lifting off the sheets, panting and absolutely coming undone. Your tightening around nothing, your legs threatening to snap shut around Joel’s ears. 

You’ve completely forgotten about Frankie in this moment of bliss. Especially when Joel says, “That’s my girl. Deserve to feel like that all the time.” 

He kisses the crease of your thigh and up your belly, putting his lips to every inch of you. 

“You look beautiful, darlin’. Doesn’t she look beautiful?” 

“Yeah.” Frankie’s throat sounds dry like he just crossed a desert. 

A blissful smile softens your face. 

You roll into Joel’s chest and tug on his belt loops, grinding his hips against you. The denim is deliciously rough against your swollen clit and you can feel a damp spot. He wants you. 

“Get these off so you can fuck me,” you say. 

Joel chuckles. “Needy girl.”

He gets up and you see Frankie at the foot of the bed, helpless. You know him well enough to understand that look in his eye that’s begging you not to go all the way. You’ve made your point. Mercy. 

You arch an eyebrow. Does he really think he’s paid the price?

— 

All of the muscles in Frankie’s legs burn. His knees ache. It’s his ego that’s taking a beating. 

He doesn’t have to sit here and watch this. In fact, he probably could’ve stopped this before it even began. But he hasn’t moved an inch. There’s part of him that knows he deserves this torment, another part that enjoys it. So he stays there watching you from a wholly new perspective. 

“What’s her favorite position?” Joel asks as he shucks off his pants. 

You’re watching him strip down eagerly, licking your lips like some kind of hungry beast. You used to look at him like that. 

“She likes it from behind,” Frankie admits. 

Joel’s eyebrows raise and he looks at you for confirmation. You can’t help but giggle. 

“Filthy little thing,” Joel says. 

Frankie’s always thought that too. You drove him wild with the dirty things you asked for. You’d get him hard under the table at the bar, pull him into the bathroom at Will’s place for a quickie. Things haven’t been like that between you for a long time, though. 

Frankie’s eyes rake over Joel’s naked form. His arms are muscular and tan, well built for a man in his 50s. Well endowed, too. He doesn’t want to look but how can he stop himself from comparing his own cock to the one that’s about to fuck you? He doesn’t want to think about the way his mouth waters either. 

“Frankie, you got a condom?” Joel calls. 

“I’m on the pill,” you tell him. “You can cum in me.”

Frankie’s stomach turns but the desire twists in his belly. He can’t wait to be put out of his misery. 

“Fuck,” Joel growls. 

You get on all fours for Joel, ass up in the air, tits swaying just the way Frankie likes. You’re about eye level with him so he’s right there with you when Joel pushes inside of you. You moan, so pretty, and your face strains at the pressure. It’s such an obscene sight— only problem is that he’s not the one giving it to you. His cock still responds, twitching with need. He hates it and he loves it. 

Joel’s swearing, gritting his teeth. His fingers dimple the flesh around your hips with a strong grip. Frankie knows exactly how exquisite it feels to be inside you, surrounded by warm velvet. He wants to be the one who’s hips, thighs are fucking against you, splitting you open and making you shake.

Instead he has to watch. Watch your back arch. Listen to that succulent squelch where your bodies meet. Savor the taste of you still on his tongue. 

And because he wants to touch himself and he’s good at following a command, he thinks about all the times he’s forgotten your anniversary or gotten high before Thanksgiving dinner. It hurts and it feels so good. 

When Joel finishes, he spares Frankie by not doing it inside of you. But Frankie has to see him paint your ass with it, marking you as you touch yourself and whine. 

It stings. You’ve been looking at him like a cockroach and he’s so fucking turned on it’s painful. He’s still throbbing, surprised he hasn’t yet burst from hearing you cum. His cock is swollen, leaking and slick. 

He’s obediently waiting, biting on his lip so hard that he can practically taste blood. Each moment of torment only intensifies the pleasure. 

You’re glowing now, laid out on your side, chest still heaving. Joel’s caging you between his arms, kissing your jaw as you rake your fingers through his hair. He glances at Frankie like he just remembered that he’s there. 

“How does he look?” Joel asks.

“Pathetic,” you say, still out of breath, and give a little laugh.

It makes him ache. 

You stretch your arms over your head luxuriously 

and sigh. “Let him cum.”

Frankie lets out a whimper. You’ve always been so generous with him. You’ve been patient and loved him when he’s made it so damn difficult. He’s never deserved you and he doesn’t deserve to get this release. But fuck he’s never needed it more. 

“You do it,” you tell Joel with a mischievous smile.

He shakes his head with a laugh. 

Frankie swallows thickly when Joel approaches him. He takes Frankie’s chin in his hand, the pad of his thumb grazing against his stubble. From his place on the floor, Frankie can smell you on him. 

“Up,” Joel says. 

He gets to his feet as quickly as he can but it takes some effort. His toes are tingling and even the air moving around his cock as he rises feels unbearable. 

Joel’s near enough that Frankie can feel his breath on his neck. He lets out a moan and shuts his eyes. Joel’s hand closes around him, squeezes the base of his cock and Frankie bucks. 

“You like that Frankie?” he hears you ask. “You like feeling his hands on you?”

He doesn’t know, can’t form words or even thoughts. Frankie’s never been touched by another man before, not like that. He’s so senseless he doesn’t even bother to figure out how he feels about doing this. If that’s what you want for him right now, he’s willing to do it.

Joel tugs at him, his hand rough except for what’s leaked down Frankie’s length. He’s so sensitive, so delirious. 

“She asked you a question.” Joel’s lips are pressed against his ear, the sweat of his chest sticky on Frankie’s back. He sets a steady pace with his strokes. 

Frankie tries to answer but he chokes, sees white behind his eyes. His climax is as violent as a slap in the face. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby,” he babbles as he coats Joel’s fist. 

When the fog lifts and Frankie blinks his vision back into focus, you’re staring at him and Joel with your lips parted. You look turned on and awe struck and exhilarated. Frankie wavers and Joel catches him by the shoulder.  

“You gonna make it?” Joel asks him. 

Frankie can only nod. He feels relieved. Not just from the release. He tries to catch his breath, sitting on the floor. 

“Let me clean you up, sweetheart,” Joel offers. 

“Mm,” you respond. 

Frankie’s left alone. He hears the shower. There’s so much to make sense of and he’s still, quite frankly, delirious. 

He’s shocked when you come out of the bathroom a moment later, your robe hangs in your naked body. He wishes he could touch you but he’s not sure if he still has that privilege. 

You crouch down beside him, a damp washcloth in your hand, and you begin to clean him. It’s warm and soft on his chin and you’re gentle as you mop up his thigh. He’s overcome. Once again you’re so good to him and he’s unworthy. 

Your face is a mix of emotions and he can tell you’re thinking. You’re careful not to meet his eye until you’re finished and when you do, all of the mischief and desire is gone. 

You sigh. 

“You can stay but you’re sleeping on the couch,” you tell him. 

A knot forms in his throat and he thinks he might just cry. 

“Thank you,” he manages to whisper without tears.

You nod and then hesitate. Another sigh. Finally you put your lips to his forehead, a light, quick kiss. It feels like something close to forgiveness.

---

thanks for reading!

MASTERLIST - JOIN THE TAGLIST

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Number 14 for the bed sharing please?

Thank you, @fastandfeminist!

14. we're snowed in and there is not a lot of space and heat

I'm gonna go with Joel for this one, I think, because he seems to fit the best. Hope you like it!

There is only one bed. Implied coitus.

The wind picked up by while you did your rounds, and the snow was coming down like a thick wall of icy white. Attempting to return seemed impossible, not to mention perilous, so when Joel told you, in a yell to be heard over the storm, that there was a cabin nearby where you could seek shelter, you were all too happy to comply.

"Cabin" was a very generous word for the ramshackle, barely held together, pile of logs with a partly caved in roof. There was, however, some shelter to be had, even if the walls seemed to be made of cracks through which the wind pushed in.

"We inspected this in the fall," Joel grumbles as he brushes the snow off his parka. "It was okay then."

"It's enough for one night," you sniffle as the cold has made your nose run. The back of the cabin is collapsed, but the front room is mostly unharmed. There's a table, a couple of chairs, and a bedframe for one. Joel is moving towards the fallen roof beams and pushes against one. It doesn't budge.

"Well, bad news is that firewood was in the back room. Good news is that I don't think that the rest of the roof is gonna come down on us tonight."

He shoots you a dry grin, but you can see that he's concerned.

"We'll be okay," you shrug. "At least it's safe and dry."

Safe from infected it might be, and somewhat dry, but you realize very quickly that it's definitely not warm. There are no blankets, sheets, or anything, and once your body starts to cool down from the exertions of wading through the snow, you're beginning to shiver despite your parka.

"Try and get some shut-eye," Joel suggests as he sits down on one of the rickety chairs and gestures towards the bare bed. "I'll keep watch."

"I'm too amped up to sleep."

"You won't be for long, trust me."

He's right, and soon you're nodding off in your curled-up seated position against the wall. You're worn out, the fatigue pulling you down and under, but your shivering muscles are still keeping you awake. The cabin is pitch black, and with the wind howling outside of it you can't tell if Joel is awake or not, until you hear his voice.

"Oh, for fuck's sake."

The chair legs scrape against the wooden floor and you hear his heavy, booted steps take the couple of steps from the table to the bed. The darkness moves as he sits down next to you, and you hear him unzip his parka.

"Take your jacket off."

"Wha'?" You're already so cold that you're slurring, or maybe it's the exhaustion that makes you unable to form words properly.

"Take it off."

"'s cold!"

"Skin to skin works best. We'll use the jackets as blankets."

You find yourself huddled up in his arms, his chest surprisingly warm, his legs twined with yours, the jackets covering your torsos as best they can. You're not naked, but he's in his flannel and you're in a t-shirt, your wool sweater draped over your shoulders. Slowly, his body heat seeps over into your limbs, and you stop shaking. Still, your body is stiff, and you're wide awake.

You have never been so close to him before.

You have wanted to be this close to him for a very long time.

You can smell his sweat mixed with pine, crisp and fresh, like a forest lake on a fall morning when the dew lies heavy over still waters. He doesn't move, except for a ligh rise and fall of his chest, yet you sense there is as much going on underneath the surface as there is within you. You can barely breathe for fear of breaking whatever spell it is that has you so securely wrapped in his strong arms.

You want to say something, tell him that even though the conditions aren't exactly ideal, you're happy you're here, with him. Or just tell him that he's warm. He feels safe. He makes your heart jolt.

You don't. You try to sleep instead, finding it impossible. You're beginning to feel uncomfortable and want to change positions, but you're unwilling to move. The wind is still howling outside, the air around you is cold, but underneath your jackets, so close to Joel, it's warm.

He was right about skin to skin, but what really warms you up is when he finally kisses you. And what happens after that keeps you warm for the rest of the night.

Finally, you sleep better than you ever have before.

[littlepadika]

Thinking about Marcus Pike giving his little the most beautiful coloring books and pencils and coloring together after dinner *le sigh*

YES YES YES quiet coloring sitting in your daddy's lap after dinner 😇 he trusts you with the professional level pencils and markers because you're his perfect princess 🎨 🥺

[littleferal]

High hope is one of my all time favorite fics. I love rereading it and hope all is well for you.

thank you so much for your love for my fic high hope 🥺💖

talk to me 🌙

[queridopascal]

aftercare

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x F!Reader

Warning: SMUTish, 18+, explicit content, woman on top, unprotected sex (p in v), creampie, cock warming, age gap relationship, fluff

KINKTOBER 2021 MASTERLIST

A/N: yes, I gave him a second name. And I think it sounds really nice.

His hands grab your thighs, soft and warm as they rest on either side of his bare abdomen, and you bounce on top of him, chasing the high that is building into your core in a crescendo.

“I’m close, so c-close...” he groans as you ride him faster, your hands are splayed on his pecs for leverage as the coil in your belly tightens and tightens, until you finally fall over the edge with a cry of his name.

Marcus sits up and wraps his arms around you, his hips moving frantically as he thrust up into you a dozen more times; he stills his movements with a groan and empties himself inside of you, spurt after spurt, until you feel his cock soften inside of you and cum leak down your inner thighs.

Once your breathing evens out, you tilt your head down and smile as you take in Marcus’ post-coital expression: the dazed look of pleasure on his face makes him irresistible and even more sexy, his lips — flushed and still swollen from all the kisses you had shared just minutes prior — beg to be kissed again, and all the scrapes and marks you left on his chest make your mouth curl into a wicked grin.

“We should take a shower.” he glances up at you with a look of pure adoration on his face; his voice is low and raspy, similar to his morning voice.

“Later,” you murmur as you run your index finger up and down the bridge of his nose. “I wanna stay here a little longer.” you whisper as you lean in.

“Alright,” Marcus nods and tilts his head up to place a small kiss to your lips, hissing into your mouth when your inner muscles clench around his cock, still buried inside of you.

Pulling away from his mouth, you stare at him, and let your thumb graze that bald spot in his beard you love to kiss, especially when he’s on top of you and you have complete access to his neck and jaw.

You still cannot believe that you found Marcus; you still cannot believe that this beautiful man is yours and yours to keep.

“What is it, baby?” he frowns when he fails to decipher the emotions hidden in your eyes.

“Nothing, it’s just...” you sigh, “I am so lucky to have you.” you admit in the end as you run your fingers through his soft hair, all messy and sweaty from your adventure.

He silently thanks you as he pulls you down, his lips molding with yours in a kiss that starts off slow but soon turns desperate, almost necessary, as if you both need to kiss one another to keep yourselves alive.

“I am so lucky to have you, baby.” he says once your mouths part, his hands finding yours to lace his fingers with your own. “Oh and by the way, I’m still wondering why you chose an old man like me...” he chuckles and you roll your eyes.

“Idiot...” you shake your head before tilting it down to kiss the corner of his mouth, “because I love you. So much. And you won’t get rid of me anytime soon.”

“Yeah?” he raises and eyebrow at you, “You gonna stay with me until my hair is all grey and I’m covered in wrinkles?”

“Yup,” you nod solemnly as you look down at him, “I’m never letting you go Marcus Esteban Moreno.”

He pulls you down onto his chest, and you rest your head right where his heart beats for you as you let him stroke your back with delicate, soothing touches that make you fall asleep in a matter of seconds.

KINKTOBER TAGLIST: @wild-at-heart-kept-in-cage @theorganasolo @pazizz @beskarboobs @lovesbiggerthanpride @randomness501 @din-jarhead @pedritoispunk @soltaasbruxas @phoenixhalliwell @thisisthewayyy @danniburgh @softboidjarin @0callme-mimi @prideandpascal @destiny-tsukino @randeerenae @candywh0r3 @janebby @fastandfeminist @spanishmossmagnolia @dopeqff @amneris21 @mandosmistress @dihra-vesa @jaime1110 @agos-505 @prettylilhalforc @stardust-galaxies @c4psicle @lavenderluna10 @i-m-sherlocked-twice @goldielocks2004 @evyiione

[pumpkin-stars]

Stalwart

Duke Leto Atreides/Fem!Reader

Kinktober Day 30: Against a wall

Word Count: 595

Warnings/Content: no spoilers, post-workout sex, kinda primal but still loving, Leto’s a softie

My Kinktober Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Join my Taglist

@the-purity-pen‘s full kinktober list is here

Leto is always so well put together. Never a hair out of place, crisp starched uniforms, the image of nobility… Always the perfect representation of his House and his position, he never allows anyone to see him ruffled.

Well… not quite anyone…

His breath hits your neck in hot puffs, the most ruined of his expressions hidden even from you as he pants against you, that surprisingly soft grey-streaked beard brushing your bared skin. His hands are hot on your hips, holding you against the wall of the training room, kneading gently.

Your legs are wrapped around his waist, arms around him, holding his shoulders tightly as his cock fills you and knocks your breath from your lungs.

It’s certainly one way of your Duke not having to concede defeat. Distracting you and grabbing you, pushing you the short distance to the wall before lifting your leg and pressing his clothed core to your own, kissing you before you could even comprehend that your fight was cut short, your knives still clattering on the floor as he shucked his pants down, letting you go briefly to pull your own from you before he pushed you against the wall again.

It was a frenzied scramble to get your pants off over your shoes enough to let you wrap around him, but the adrenaline pumping through you both from your sparring made it easy. And now, where he thrusts his hips and fills you, you’re both still riding an endorphin high, sweaty and hot from more than just sex.

“Leto-” You gasp, “Please-!”

His head moves from your neck, one hand tugging at the neck of your shirt to expose your collarbone. He keeps thrusting as he leans in, kissing over the bone, sucking a small mark near your shoulder where none of your clothes will show it. You have to stay put together too.

No matter how much he pulls you apart now.

“Patience, my darling,” He mumbles into your skin, kissing a path back to your neck, up to your ear, “I don’t have another meeting for an hour.”

You whimper, clenching around him, leaning forward into his softness rather than the harsh unmoving wall at your back, pulling lightly at the soft white linen that covers his form in an effort to get greater purchase on him, to hold yourself up against him while he tries desperately to make you totally boneless.

“Leto…” You gasp as he catches that spot inside you, one of his hands slipping around to your ass to hold you closer, tighter, pulling you onto his perfect length as his other hand moves to toy with your clit.

“Cum for me,” He orders, “I want you to cum.”

You whimper, holding on for dear life as he jolts forward, slamming you back against the wall so he can mouth at your tits through your shirt, pressing kisses over them before lathering his tongue over your nipples and leaving two wet circles in the fabric.

“Cum.” He tells you again, all the power and conviction of a member of the Bene Gesserit using the voice, your body responding to his word as if you have no other choice, wracked with pleasure as you cry his name. He grunts as you spasm around him, managing one two three more thrusts before he releases too, staring at you with gritted teeth as he tries to catch his breath, one long lone curl bouncing over his forehead. “Do you yield?” He asks.

You manage to laugh as you gasp for air, “Best of three?”

Taglist: @astroboots @aurelacrystal @fastandfeminist @fisforfulcrum @foxilayde @galacticgraffiti @princessxkenobi @salome-c @the-little-ewok​ @uncle-kenobi​ @yours-truly-r    

[cowboy-turtle]

**REQUESTS ARE CLOSED**

howdy! this is the first time i've ever taken requests, and what better way to celebrate the month of love than to do a soft/fluff prompt list! this blog is currently smut central, so i want to challenge myself to omit the regular climax to my stories (ba dum tss...)

Day 1 - Prompt #6: “It’s you. It’s always been you.” // Frankie Morales - requested by @arahxdjarin

Day 2 - Prompt #4: "I'm going to take care of you, okay?" // Marcus Pike - requested by @wyofabdoms

Day 3 - Prompt #14: “Let’s go, I’ll buy you dinner. And maybe breakfast.” // Marcus Moreno - requested by @lovelypastel2532

Day 4 - Prompt #10: “You kept that photo of us in your wallet?” // Marcus Moreno - requested by @letterfromvienna

Day 5 - Prompt #16: “I don’t care where I’m sleeping, as long as it’s with you.” // Din Djarin - requested by @queen0fchaos

Day 6 - Prompt #7: “Are you meeting someone here? Because…I think I’m that person.” // Marcus Moreno - requested by @morenhoe

Day 7 - Prompt #14: “Let’s go, I’ll buy you dinner. And maybe breakfast.” // La Parca's Javier Peña - requested by @queen0fchaos

Day 8 - Prompt #17: “The things I would do just to see your face right now.” // Din Djarin - requested by @mandosmistress

Day 9 - Prompt #9: "Shut up and kiss me." // Marcus Pike - requested by @queen0fchaos

Day 10 - Prompt #5: "This made me think of you." // Javier Peña - requested by @queen0fchaos

Day 11 - Prompt #2: “Are you wearing my shirt?” + Prompt #13: “You’re unbelievably cute when you’re tired.” // Din Djarin - requested by @c4psicle

Day 12 - Prompt #18: “How can you stand there looking like that?” // Marcus Moreno - requested by @queen0fchaos

Day 13 - Prompt #11: “I can’t stay away from you.” // Din Djarin - requested by @mandelirious

Day 14 - Prompt #1: “You’re beautiful, you know that?” // Frankie Morales - requested by @fastandfeminist

the desktop version of my blog theme now supports ask posts! if you have any trouble opening lmk!

Sources: 1, 2, 3 + @letterfromvienna for post inspo from her flufftober/kinktober post <3

[wardenparker]

A Soulmate Sunday Service Announcement

Hello My Lovelies,

I am sorry to say that the next chapter of Wish You Were Here will be postponed until Sunday the 27th. I have had a death in the family and am moving a little slower than normal in all aspects of my life while I process my grief. @absurdthirst was my rock through a meaningful loss suffered just after the new near, and she is helping me through this second loss with all the support and compassion I could ever ask for.

However! The first chapter of Killer Writing - the soulmate story for everyone favourite suburban murder daddy Dave York - is ready to go and will be posted in the usual Soulmate Sunday timeslot. It features a plus size reader and will explore not only what Dave’s life might be like post-Carol, but what it means to a soulmate pair when one person has been saving themselves for their soulmate. 

I’m tagging my master list as well as the WYWH crowd to make sure people see this, but let me know if you’d like to jump on the KW taglist ahead of time. 

Thank you, lovely readers and followers and folx everywhere, for your understanding as I work through this exceptionally hard moment with my family.

-Connie

------

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien

Wish You Were Here: @fastandfeminist @lowlights @thisshipwillsail316 @sunnydaysonthemoon @luxmundee @sainteredhood @rebel-fanfare @silver-pieces @janelongxox @nolanell @lawfulgranola @fan-of-encouragement @hnt-escape @donnaa @mswarriorbabe80 @poenariuniverse @spideysimpossiblegirl @sherala007 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @quica-quica-quica @agingerindenial @mand-amando @misslolasworld @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @notagamersdey @dobbyjen @chibi-liz05 @frenchyjuju @thevoiceinyourheadx @dumbledoreisnotmyhubby @n1ght5h4d3-24 @drinkingwhileblogging @athalien @badassbaker

[daddywillmiller]

Hi Daddy!

I’ve been feeling really good about myself and I booked myself a photoshoot! I’m so excited and I can’t wait. Thank you for making me feel like a pretty princess when I didn’t always see it 😘

Hi princess! I am so happy to hear you’re doing well. A photoshoot sounds like fun. I hope you have a really good time. You’re very welcome, sweetheart. That’s because you are a pretty princess. You always have been. 😘

[musings-of-a-rose]

I TOTALLY FOUND THESE IN MY DRAFTS AND FORGOT TO POST FROM DECEMBER 26TH I AM SO SORRY I MUST FIRE THE 3RD RACCOON IN THIS TRENCH COAT THAT MAKES ME UP

Taglist Reblog 1:

All Pedro Characters 1:

@beskarprincessjenny @fastandfeminist @jediknight122 @goodgriefitsawildworld @tanzthompson @mishasminion360 @thatpinkshirt @lowlights @littlemisspascal @xaestheticalien @kirsteng42 @ew-erin @coco-pebbles @livdjarin @bruxasolta @mswarriorbabe80 @pepperpottsxxxx @jaime1110 @hungrhay @pedrostories @callsigncatfish @starlite41 @mrsparknuts @hotchlover @tintinn16 @spacenerdpascal @jitterbugs927 @bport76 @1andthesame @weasleywinchester @feelmyroarrrr @erikkenaja @nembees @thesleepingmusicneek @trickstersp8 @alwaysdjarin @elegantduckturtle @sherala007 @the-queen-of-fools @Prostitute-robot-from-the-future @trinkets01 @littlenosoul @witchygagirl @dindjarinswhore @chloeinpink @your-voice-is-mellifluous @marcus-is-my-muse @darleneslane  @monalisastwin @oursubjectisntcool

All of You

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (eventual wife reader)

Word Count: 2900+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: I’m not sure who originally said it, but the wonderful @morallyinept shared this and I had to write it for her! A Boxing Day gift? Is that a thing (said in American)?  Shoutout to @rhoorl for the nickname! This is not beta’d because I’m tired lol

Yeah... I'm not okay. I read a reblog comment which made me chuckle saying this is older, retired Peña who's being slowly overfed by his wife

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Javier Peña Masterlist

“I’ll be right with you!” I yell over my shoulder as the entry bell dings, boots casually walking across the hard floors of my little corner store bakery. 

I slide the baking pan in my old oven, an antique to most but she works better than most of these modern ones. I set my timer and place it on the counter next to the oven, wiping my hands on my apron as I spin around to address the customer and am momentarily rendered speechless. A man casually peruses my glass display case, all dark hair and dark eyes, a slim frame but the broadest shoulders I’ve seen. His nose is prominent, a mustache that sort of reminds me of Burt Reynolds is neatly trimmed, and he leans down to look closer at something in the case. 

Sexy would not begin to describe this man. 

“Are those coyotas?”

I blink, his voice runs through my brain and makes my body shiver, goosebumps erupting across my arms. 

“Y-yeah. Yes. Coyotas.”

He looks up at me, his eyes wide and round just like a damn puppy and I could get lost in those eyes. 

“Could I have a few?”

“Absolutely. Anything else?”

He finally looks at me, pulling his eyes away from whatever memory the coyotas held and blinks, his eyes scanning down my body, the tingles from before starting back up. 

“S-sir?”

“Huh? Oh. Uh yeah. I’m picking up an order for Chucho? Peña?”

I chuckle. “Chucho. My favorite customer! I have his order right here.” I move to grab a small bag with various pastries inside, making him a to-go cup of cafe con leche to accompany it. 

“Would you like a cup?”

“What? Oh I don’t want to put you out.”

“You’re not. How do you like it?”

“Plain?”

I pour him a black cup of coffee, sliding the lid over it before turning to hand it to him, his fingers brushing against mine as he takes it and I feel my cheeks heat up at the spark that passes between us. 

“Chucho normally comes to say hi.”

“Yeah he’s dealing with farm shit right now. Asked me to come.”

I nod. “And you are?”

“Oh shit! Sorry! I’m Javier. Chucho’s son.” He extends a hand as I say my name but does it too quickly, coffee spilling out of the cup that he had squeezed a little harder than he should have. “Fuck I’m so sorry. Let me help-”

I wave my hand. “I got it. Are you ok? Some of that got on you. Hold still.” I take a clean cloth from my apron pocket and run some water on it, turning back to Javier. I gently take his hand, placing it in mine, trying to ignore the heat that immediately sprung up between my thighs. I dab at his hand, hearing his breath come in short bursts. 

“Am I hurting you?”

“N-no. Not..hurting.”

He looks into my eyes, his pinched together and round and we just stare at each other for several moments, getting lost in the other. Then the bell rings and the spell is broken, Javier jerking his hand back as a woman walks in and I wave to her, letting her know I’d be right over. I grab Chucho’s order and coffee, carefully handing the latter to Javier.

“Wait. I haven’t paid.”

I wave him off. “Don’t worry about it. I got it.”

“No. You deserve payment.”

“Javier, really. It’s ok.” My body braver than I am, I place my hand on his forearm, giving it a little squeeze, offering him a smile. Javier shifts from foot to foot before looking at me and nodding. 

“If you insist.” He hesitates, opening his mouth to say something else but then the door bell jingles again and he closes his mouth, holding up the bag slightly in thanks. 

Javier comes to get his dad’s order every day for the next few months. I’m fairly certain Chucho will have gained some major weight by now, with all the cookies and pastries Javier brings him. But I am not complaining - any chance to see this man, hear him talk. He doesn’t tell me much about the last few years, but I imagine he can’t, not really. His job has so much confidentiality involved but it’s deeper than that. I can see it in his eyes, the hardness, sadness, regret for things he must have had to do to take down an evil man. 

So he asks me about me, where I’m from, how did I get so good at baking, all of it. I tell him how my “abuela” taught me the from moment I could talk, teaching me all the traditions that accompany each pastry. Even though we weren’t blood related, she had been really close with my mom, who reminded her of a daughter she’d lost. Javier listens with rapt attention, asking me questions to learn more as he sips his coffee. 

But one day he doesn’t come in at his normal time in the morning. Instead, Chucho walks in, smiling and giving me a quick hug before making his usual order. 

“No Javier today?” I ask, trying to be nonchalant. Which I guess I’m not because he smirks. 

“Actually, I had business in town today. Javi is mending some things in the barn for me.”

The image of a sweaty Javier fills my mind and I shake my head a little. Focus. 

“Oh. Sounds like hard work.”

There’s that smirk again. “It is. Hey, could you do me a favor? I owed him dinner and I won’t be home in time for that. Poker night at Robert’s house. If I call Rita’s, could you bring it to him?”

“I..me?”

“You close early enough?”

I’d close right now if it meant seeing sweaty Javier pounding nails.

“Y-yeah. I can do that for you.”

He smiles, handing me money for his coffee. “I’ll call Rita’s. Could you get it around 4?”

I pick up his food at Rita’s, ready and waiting for me at 4pm, and follow the directions Chucho had given me out to the Peña farm. I’d be lying to myself if I said I wasn’t nervous, getting to see Javier outside of the walls of my little bakery was something I’d only dreamed of. I figured if he were interested, he would’ve asked me out or something by now. Right?

Taking one last glance in the mirror to adjust my hair, I step out of my car, walking around to open the passenger door and grab the food, his drink secured in my other hand. I hesitate at the front door, mostly because I’m trying not to chicken out but also because my hands are full and my brain is not operating fully. I eventually decide to set his drink down on the arm of the porch chair and knock, waiting several moments. Only, no one comes and the house is quiet. I knock again, wait again, and still nothing. But then I hear a faint clink! Clink! Coming from around back where the barn is and I assume Javier is in there. 

Grabbing up the drink, I take a deep breath and head towards the barn, where I hear some more banging and a couple of swear words. Nervously, I raise my hand to the wood door and knock, despite the door already being open. The pounding stops immediately and then he walks into my vision, Javier, sweaty, no shirt, jeans with some wear on them, and a tool belt slung low on his hips. He’s wiping his hands on a handkerchief as he walks towards me, head cocked to the side but his eyes wide and…nervous?

“Pastelito?” 

I smile, clumsily holding up the food and drink. “Chucho said he was going to Robert’s and wouldn’t be home to get you the dinner he owed you.” Don’t look at his chest, don’t look at his chest. Don’t. Look. 

His eyebrows pinch together in confusion. “Owed me? He doesn’t owe me anything.”

“O-oh. I..he just asked me and I said I’d help. But you look busy, I can take this back if you don’t-”

“No!” He steps closer to me, reaching for the food. “I mean, no. I’ll…thank you, pastelito.” 

I hold out the food and drink, Javier only a couple of steps away. I finally manage to look at him and find him already looking at me, his eyes dark and bright, looking for something in mine. He takes the food, his fingers brushing against mine, only this time he doesn’t move away. His large hands pause over mine for several moments before his fingers start to trace little lines up my forearm, goosebumps pimpling my skin, my heart racing. No longer in control of my brain, my eyes scan down his shirtless chest and back up, heat flaring between my thighs. He grips my forearms, pulling me to him and I drop the food, my hands immediately coming up to touch his chest as he lifts my chin, his lips pressing against mine. Fuck, his lips are soft and he’s so warm, sweaty from his work and all I can think is how I want him to press me into this bale of hay and take me, let me take his worries away. 

One hand slides down my back, the other cradling the back of my head as his tongue pushes gently forward, my lips parting, tongue coming out to meet his. He presses his body against mine, the sweat from his chest getting me wet all over. He walks me backwards until I bump against a beam. He starts to kiss a path down my neck and I gasp, whining a little when he sucks on some spot below my ear. His hands are wandering, sliding across my body, hoisting one of my thighs up on his hip, his stomach pressing in between my thighs and I moan at the feel of it. As he reaches my boobs he stops, pulling his head up so fast I’m dizzy with the motion of it. 

“Javier?”

His eyes are nearly black, his chest heaving, and he shifts slightly where he stands. “I…I can’t.”

Ouch. “Oh. I..you can. If you need permission, you definitely have it.”

“No, it’s just-” He sighs, gently setting my leg back on the floor and stepping away from me and I feel cold despite the heat of the evening, and embarrassed.

“I’ll see you around then,” I have to get out of here before the tears come. But his hand gently closes around my arm, tugging on it lightly until I turn, swallowing hard.

“Paselito, it’s not you. Please, come sit? And I’ll explain?”

I nod, shaking my head to rid myself of the tears. At least for the moment. He sits on a bale of hay and pats the space next to him. I sit, wrapping my arms around myself for some sort of comfort. He looks at me, taking my hand in his and holy shit why are his hands so large?

“Pastelito…I..I normally rush right into the physical. Hell, that’s all I really had for the last 6 years.” He sighs. “But I don’t want to do that with you. I don’t want to rush it. I definitely want to, but I want to date you. Fuck, I sound stupid don’t I?”

“Not at all, Javier. I…I’ll assume this isn’t a line,” Javier chuckles at that. “But I would absolutely love to date you.”

We fuck at the end of the first date and through the remainder of that weekend.

10 years later…

Javier sets his utensils down, chewing the last bit of his dinner before taking a sip from his glass. “You need to stop cooking so well, mi esposa [my wife], or I may not be able to fit through the door.” He rubs at his stomach, softer and slightly more fluffy after a few years of early retirement. 

“Never. I love cooking for my husband. He’s definitely earned it.”

“Yes but soon you may not want me.” He pats his stomach and smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, insecurity brimming behind it.

I set down my fork, pushing my chair back to stand up and walk over to him. His eyes follow my movements and I gesture for him to push his chair back from the table, which he does. I stand between his legs, looking down at him. I place my hand over his, where it rests on his stomach.

“You think I’d find you unattractive because of this?” He shrugs, a non committal answer. 

“Maybe. I am not in the shape I was when we met.”

“Neither am I, Javi.”

“Yes, but you’re gorgeous.”

“So are you.”

He blows air from his lips, looking away from me. Much to his surprise, I decide to straddle him, his arms quickly hooking behind my knees to help hold me. I lean forward, kissing him hard and he kisses me back, his nails digging into my skin. I’m grateful I wore a dress today, especially because there’s less layers between us. I start to move my hips, slowly at first but the heat quickly builds as I grind along his belly, breaking the kiss to gasp. He watches me, eyes wide and dark as I rub myself on this area that causes so much insecurity. 

“Fuck, Javier, you’re so fucking..ngh!” My hands grip his shoulders, digging into his skin. 

“Yes, pastelito, use me. Fuck me how you want. Show me how you feel.” His chest heaves, helping to hold me in place still, but his hands are twitching, wanting to touch me. I speed up, grinding harder and then suddenly I come, his name spilling from my lips as I leave a wet mark on his shirt. Finally, I look down at him smiling, seeing his eyes like a damn puppy. 

“I fucking love your body, Javi. All of it. I could fuck myself on all of YOU!” I scream out the last word as Javier suddenly stands, pushing me up and laying me on the table, somehow pushing dishes out of the way as he did, some of them clattering to the floor, to be picked up later. 

His hands scramble up under my dress, yanking down my soaked panties and pulling them off, groaning when he felt how wet they were. His belt buckle clanks as he undoes it and drops his pants to the floor. He lines up, but I lean up on my arm. 

“Wait.” I reach forward with my other hand and undo some of his buttons, Javi finishing the rest before yanking it off himself. I run my nails down his chest and over his belly, the damp skin there heating me up.

I meet his eyes. “You’re so fucking, hot Javi. I will never stop thinking that.”

He pushes me back down and into me at the same time and I yell his name as he splits me open, his fingers digging into my hips and pulling me towards him as he thrusts, an extra hard jut of his hips when he’s already inside, knowing how that makes me writhe and moan, my entire body like a livewire. He grunts with every thrust of his hips, baring his teeth sometimes with the force of it and all I can do is hold on, my fingers digging into his arms as I moan and yell his name. 

“Yes! Fuck me, Javi!”

His hand moves between my thighs, touching me and my legs twitch. He smirks down at me as I chant his name. “Scream my name, pastelito. Make the neighbors know who I am.”

“Ye-YES! JAVI!” I come hard, yelling his name as he asks, stars in my vision and the sound of wind rushing in my ears, but not loud enough that I don’t hear him, grunting and panting out my name as he spills into me. His forehead touches mine, his nose nuzzling into me for several moments before he sits back up with a different groan, rubbing at his back for a moment before pulling out.  

“Well my back definitely tells me I’m getting older.”

I chuckle, my breathing finally leveling out as Javi extends his hand to me, helping me sit up. He holds it, pressing a kiss to the back of my hand before placing it on his cheek, looking at me.

“So, you said you could fuck yourself on all of me?” His eyebrows are raised questioningly. 

I nod. “Oh yes.”

His eyes darken. “Then show me.”

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @giuliarogers @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @alindeluce @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed   @ladykatakuri @marrianena  @practicalghost @Withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol   @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @ichigodjarin @justreblogginfics @sullyosully @kmc1989 @veryprairieberry

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Ficlet: The Loveliness of Loving You

@fastandfeminist suggested I write something about Frankie being soft and baking cookies with reader, so here goes! Sorry it took so long I've been so tired. I hope this was worth the wait. (Ugh what a terrible thing to say because now you'll feel forced to say OF COURSE shut up Cas shut up shut up)

Frankie Morales x reader/you

Warnings: Mention of body issues but nothing explicit, cookies and chocolate obviously, fluff, and Frankie softness! Title is from the lyrics to Sugar, Sugar by The Archies.

Words: 949

"Hey, leave some for the cookies!"

You snatch the bag of chocolate chips from Frankie's hand, and he reaches for them, his mouth already full of chocolate.

"Gimme 'em! Uh'm quahlihy checkin'!"

"I'm sure they're up to your high standards, glotón," you grin and push him away playfully before emptying the bag's contents into the mixing bowl. Frankie chews and swallows before coming up to embrace you from behind.

"I love it when you admonish me in Spanish," he murmurs before pressing a chocolate-smelling kiss to your neck.

"That's why I do it," you let him know. "It's the only way to get your attention."

"My what now?"

"Su atención."

"Ah, that." He peeks over your shoulder at your work. "Need help?"

"Are you going to eat it or mix it?"

"Trust me."

Frankie's hands are on your arms, fingers softly tracing down your working muscles to your hands, covering them gently until you let go of the wooden spoon. He starts to work the dough, freeing you up to lightly rest your hands on his forearms. The hairs on his golden skin are soft against your fingertips and you enjoy watching his large hands grip the bowl and spoon. You lean back a little against him, not much, just so that the entire length of your back is in contact with him. Frankie doesn't say anything, but he leans his cheek to the side of your head. The smell of his cologne, together with the sweet smell of chocolate, invades your nostrils.

"All done," he says eventually, when the dough has reached the desired consistency. You're not really ready to give up this lovely setting, so you shake your head.

"Nope. A little more."

"You're the expert." He kisses the side of your head and you feel the smile on his lips. He knows the cookie dough is perfect as it is, but he's perfectly happy to mix it with you trapped between himself and the table.

"You know it, sugar."

Frankie inadvertedly starts to hum Sugar, Sugar, finally releasing the spoon and bowl and instead wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you in closer as you take control of the baking. He sways you slowly from side to side, his face buried against your neck.

"Hmmm-mmm-mmm candy girl, something hmmm-mmmm wanting you...."

He can't carry a tune, and that's why you love his singing. He only does it when he's really happy and contented. You smile as you beat the spoon against the edge of the bowl, and direct it to Frankie.

"Here you go, I know this was what you were waiting for."

Frankie shakes his head. "I want sugar, but not that kind."

He starts to slowly kiss his way up your neck, pausing to nibble at your ear. You sigh softly, closing your eyes for a moment.

"Frankie?"

"Yes, honey?"

"Is the oven preheated?"

He pauses for a moment before turning his head to glance in the direction of the oven.

"No, ma'am."

"I told you to preheat it to 350."

"Yes, you did, ma'am."

You hold the spoon away from him. "Rápido, soldier!"

Frankie reluctantly lets go of you and turns the oven on.

"Hand me a tray and some baking paper."

"You are so bossy," he shakes his head as he returns to the table with the items you requested. You give him the spoon to lick, and he immediately attacks his new task with obvious satisfaction.

"You wanted to bake together. How did you expect it to go?"

"With you baking and me basking in your beauty and competence?" The big wooden spoon in his mouth, he looks like a little kid, with his unruly locks of hair and mischievous brown eyes. You shake your head, a smile growing on your face.

"You're not as cute as you think you are, mister."

"No, ma'am."

Sitting down by the table, you reach for him and manage to grab him by the belt loops on his jeans. You pull him in and hug him close, turning your head to rest your cheek on his soft belly, like a pillow.

You love that soft little belly of his, and every time he starts to pinch it and grumble about maybe cutting back on snacks and sweets, you want to bake him a new batch of cookies. You don't want a buff, skinny Frankie, you want pot-bellied, thick-thighed, flat-assed Frankie because that's who he is and that's who you love.

His stomach makes a little gurgle sound and you kiss it through the fabric of his t-shirt before letting go of him.

"Get the ice cream scoop, and get to work."

"Me?" He looks shocked. "You're the expert, that's why you're here, so the cookies won't be a total disaster!"

"I believe in you, baby," you assure him. "Just scoop the dough up like you would ice cream, and put it down on the baking paper. It'll melt to the right size in the oven."

Frankie's forehead furrows in concentration when he starts this task, and you move in next to him, covering his hands as he did yours, and guide him through the steps. When the tray, filled with neat little scoops of dough, has found its way into the oven, Frankie wraps his arms around you and walks you backwards to the kitchen table.

"How long?"

"Between ten and fifteen minutes," you tell him.

"Enough for a makeout sesh," he rules.

"Can you handle all that sugar?" you quip, knowing full well it's a total Dad joke. Luckily for you, Frankie appreciates those.

"If I get a rush and need to get rid of excess energy, I know exactly what to do."

[littlepadika]

Can I be added to your tag list please?

👉👈🥺

yes boo boo i just added u 😘

[mothandpidgeon]

taglist rb 1

@joel-mlller @rosiefridayrogersunday @a-skov @skulliebythesea @oceanablue @rebel-soldat @buckwildbarnes @dindjarinneedsahug @goddessinwolfskinn @stevie75 @sharkbait77 @dhira-vesa @artsymaddie @hows-my-hair @wyofabdoms @pedrostories @hellovanessax @sheresh0y @originallaura @mrsparknuts @star-wars-fan-2005 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @kiizhikehn-cedar @christina-loves @luxmundee @kirsteng42 @bisexualolympus @batgirlbride @lilriv05 @sherala007 @gracie7209 @giselatropicana @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @xx-small-town-witch-xx @starwars-thirst @whoreforhenrycavill @Knightinshiningmithril  @vibin-hippie  @the-mandalorian-066 @bluevxnus @jediknight122 @ezras-channel-rat @Steeeevienicks @breezythesimp @curiouskeyboard @kaqua @acourtofsnakes @bvb-addict13 @mstgsmy @uncle-kenobi @astoryisaloveaffair @mishasminion360 @jazzyllemmon @justjaclin @whatisawwhileoutandabout @glimmering-darling-dolly @Fastandfeminist @safe-teycar @fic-appointment @tintinn16 @thegirlnextdoorssister  @bearcina

Aunt Flo's First Visit [pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader]

MASTERLIST

Pairing: pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: After Sarah gets her first period, Joel is determined to be a supportive parent despite the fact that he doesn't know the first thing about menstruation. But when he goes to the pharmacy to shop for supplies, he finds himself in way over his head.

Words: 2k

Rating: G

Warnings: period stuff and everything that comes with it

a/n: This is really fluffy and a little silly. I saw a tik tok by a menstrual product company about a customer trying to find the right thing for his daughter and it just gave me such Joel energy this happened. I haven't finished any fic in MONTHS because I'm working on my book and that's not finished either so it feels really good to complete something. (If you want to keep up with my publishing journey, I'm mainly documenting it here.) Please enjoy.

Also, I challenged myself to write in present tense bc I never do and I really was struggling so pretend the grammar is all correct. Thank you.

Joel knows how to do a lot of things. He can manage a crew, change a flat tire, and build just about anything. He never considered himself smart by the classical definition but he knows how to make a car battery from scratch despite the fact that he got a C in chemistry. 

If somebody had told him a decade ago that he’d one day be paralyzed with fear in the feminine hygiene aisle, he would’ve laughed. But right now, Joel would give all his knowledge along with his left arm if he could just figure out what the hell he ought to buy for his daughter.

He knew this day would come eventually. It’s his own damn fault he never prepared himself. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he must’ve expected Sarah to just know how to handle it. Being a single dad wasn’t a walk in the park but he couldn’t imagine how much harder it would be if Sarah wasn’t so damn self sufficient. Even at 13, she can get herself fed and dressed and off to school without help. Of course she could figure this out on her own.

But Joel was reminded that Sarah’s still just a kid when she finally told him that she’d gotten her period for the very first time. She was so embarrassed to admit it, Joel practically had to drag it out of her. 

He was angry with himself. He should’ve been ready, wished that he knew the right words to say. Joel promised himself he would put things right so she wouldn’t feel like she ever had to hide anything from him. 

That was a lot easier said than done, he realizes now.

Joel stands in the aisle overwhelmed and confused. Boxes and soft packages in friendly, pastel colors stare at him from the shelves. He’s never spent much time with the feminine hygiene products, not unless he was scooting by them to pick up a little carton from the family planning section. He hasn’t bothered to learn about that stuff. Women’s stuff. He’s not disgusted by menstruation, isn’t afraid of it. It’s just one of those things he never had to deal with. 

Without Sarah’s mom, though, he’s had to figure out plenty of girl things. He can remember the lesson on managing Sarah’s curls from the kind woman at the hair salon. Names of Shampoos and oils that felt foreign were now routine and he’s mastered using the combs and clips that looked more intimidating than some of his power tools. But he struggled for a good long while before that kind stylist took pity on him. 

And here he is again, flying blind into the female whirlwind. 

There’s so many options on the shelf. Words like HEAVY and gentle and sport. And the prices. Christ! He thought the hair stuff was expensive.  

Joel’s head is spinning but he has to get it together. He’d vowed long ago that he would be Dad and Mom too. That’s what his daughter deserves. 

Just a year ago, he hovered outside of the dressing room at the mall as Sarah tried on training bras. 

“Did you find one? You were in there for a while,” he said when she emerged.

“Dad,” she replied in that tone she was using more and more often, the one that told him to shut up.

It isn’t the changes to her body that scare him, all of the subtle ways she’s becoming less familiar. His little girl is growing up and he mourns her childhood. It won’t be long before she’s driving, going off to college. Maybe she’ll have a daughter of her own but Joel hopes she’ll wait longer than he did, have a chance to make a life for herself.

Speaking of which, he realizes he’s going to have to sit her down for a real talk about boys next. He better get ready for that one. Explaining where babies come from hadn’t been too difficult. Condoms and venereal diseases are a whole different ball game. Teenage boys are gremlins– he’d know– and Sarah’s so smart and pretty, she’s going to have to be careful. 

Joel doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at the shelves when a woman appears in the aisle, another shopper. She’s got her keys looped around a finger, headed straight for the tampons, her flip flops smacking against the bottoms of her feet. Joel has a box in his hands. He doesn’t even know what he’s picked up, it’s just got the least intimidating packaging and the price is reasonable. He can’t help but catch the woman’s eye and the look she gives him is a little wary. It must be obvious that he’s out of his depths. But she gives a polite, tight lipped smile and proceeds to ignore him as she approaches the pantheon of period products. 

He watches as her eyes dart around the shelves and quickly she makes a selection, plucking up a box clad with pink and purple silhouettes. So easy. Well, it must be easy for her. He wonders how many times she’s visited this part of the pharmacy, if her mother brought her to the store when she was Sarah’s age and showed her all the options. 

His free hand fidgets at his side and he swallows dryly. He feels like an idiot but he reminds himself that he’s got to do this. For Sarah. The woman is already half way back to the end of the aisle by the time he’s found his voice. 

---

“Excuse me, miss. Could I trouble you for a second?” you hear from the man behind you. 

You turn around, confused, but there’s nobody else that he could be talking to. Here you thought you could get in and out quickly. You’re cranky and tired and all day you’ve had toe curling cramps. It hits you like a ton of bricks every month. All you want to do is get home to your couch to watch some crappy reality tv. 

But this lumberjack of a man– broad shoulders wrapped in a flannel shirt– is giving you puppy dog eyes. You’ve never been hit on while holding a box of Tampax Pearl but there’s a first time for everything. 

“I apologize. This is real awkward,” he says, rubbing at the back of his neck with a big hand. “I’m trying to get something for my daughter but I’m a little lost.”

His voice is warm and sweet and he’s handsome as hell but you keep your distance. 

“Didn’t she tell you what to get?” you ask. 

His expression grows even more bashful and his voice lowers. 

“I’m afraid it’s, uh…well, it’s new territory for both of us,” he admits. 

You can’t help the sympathetic smile that forms on your lips. Some poor preteen girl just got welcomed into the cruel arms of womanhood. It will be all downhill from here. Wild mood swings, angry breakouts, blood leaking through her favorite pair of pants. At least, it seems, she’s got her dad on her side. It takes a lot of balls for a guy to pick up a box of tampons let alone stop a stranger and ask for help. 

You’d like to tell him that you’re too busy to help– you can hear your Haagen Dazs calling you all the way from the freezer– but you at least owe it to this kid to help him out. 

“What’ve you got?” you ask, nodding towards the powder blue box in his grasp. It looks so little in his big hand. You walk back towards him and take a look. “Oh. Nice try but I wouldn’t go with that.”

He regards his choice again. It’s kind of adorable, the way the corners of his mouth frown as he squints at the words on the front. “What’s wrong with these?” His words aren’t defensive, he’s genuinely curious. 

“Tampons can be pretty tricky when you’re that age. And those don’t even come with an applicator,” you explain. You remember trying to use a tampon that first time. You’d never put anything up there before and it stung like hell.

“Applicator?” His brows furrow and you can see fear in his brown eyes. 

“So you can put it…in,” you tell him and motion with your finger, jabbing your pointer upwards. 

His cheeks go pink. Ears too. You try to suppress a giggle as his brain short circuits for a second. His throat works as he swallows and places the box back on the shelf— gingerly, like it might explode. 

“Which are the ones that don’t…go inside?” he asks. 

It’s impossible to keep from grinning. 

“Pads,” you say. 

He nods. 

You choose a package and place it in his hands. It’s a multipack, everything from light to heavy, and no wings so she doesn’t feel like she’s wearing a diaper. 

“Try this,” you say. “She might not like them. It takes some trial and error.”

He reads over the circle in the corner that claims it’s 100% Leak Free! You can see he’s still overwhelmed but he’s far less nervous. He really is good looking and you have to wonder how he doesn’t have a woman in his life to help him out.

“This many?” he asks. 

“She might need more.” You shrug. “Just stay away from the scented ones. And you have Tylenol at home?”

“I think so.”

“How about a heating pad?”

He shakes his head. 

“Go get one,” you advise. 

He blows out air and then steels himself with a nod, ready to face the red menace. 

“I’m awfully grateful for your help,” he says and you can tell by the look on his face, he means that. 

You feel your own cheeks heat. 

---

Joel ends up behind her in the checkout line after securing an electric heating pad and grabbing an extra bottle of Motrin. 

“What do you think?” he asks, showing her what he picked.

“Good job,” she tells him. Her smile is tinged with amusement but his chest still swells with pride. Maybe he’s not such a failure of a father after all.

Now that he’s less bewildered, Joel can’t help but notice how pretty this woman is. She’s dressed for comfort without any make up as far as he can tell but that smile and the kindness in her eyes is what does it for him. If they met under different circumstances, maybe he’d try to flirt. Not that he’s had the opportunity to practice recently. It’s for the best, though. There’s absolutely no way the combination of bumbling idiot, single parent, and menstruation makes for a romantic connection. Besides he’s here on an errand for his daughter.

Joel tries to keep his eyes from wandering over her as the teenager behind the register rings her up, the pink box and two bags of M&Ms. She gives Joel one last smile before leaving the store. 

He thought he might feel embarrassed buying nothing but period supplies but he’s too busy thinking about how helpful she was. Sarah would just about die from mortification if he told her a complete stranger gave him a crash course in maxi pads. He chuckles to himself. 

“Hey!” someone calls as Joel approaches his truck.

It’s her, the woman from the pharmacy, crossing the parking lot. Joel smooths his hair.

“These are for her,” she says, handing him one of her bags of candy. “Chocolate helps.”

Joel gives a soft laugh as he weighs the M&Ms in his hand. “That I knew,” he says. 

“And, uh, here,” she tells him, holding out the long receipt. 

Joel takes the paper. On the back she’s scribbled her name and phone number. 

“You know, I don’t know. I just thought– if she has any questions. Or maybe if you do,” she says, shrugging. She’s much less confident now than she was in front of that endless selection of menstrual products. It’s cute and makes Joel feel a little less like an idiot for the way he was fumbling a few minutes ago. 

“I owe you one,” he says.

She shakes her head. “Just be patient,” she warns. “She’s gonna be a bitch but don’t take it personally.”

Joel grins. 

“You’re a good dad,” she tells him and he doesn’t know how to respond to that.

She’s already backing away towards her car and waves again. 

Joel looks at her number, once again finding something he doesn’t know. He’d give his left arm to figure out how soon is too soon to call. 

---

MASTERLIST - JOIN THE TAGLIST - FOLLOW MOTH ON TIK TOK

[queridopascal]

blowjob

Pairing: Pero Tovar x F!Reader

Warning: 18+, explicit content, SMUT, oral sex (m receiving), hair pulling, cum eating

KINKTOBER 2021 MASTERLIST

His jaw dropped every single time his eyes roamed over your perfect curves; even though Pero knew your body like the back of his hand, he always found himself completely mesmerized by your beauty.

The warm lights of the sun setting had made their way into your house, painting almost every surface with wonderful orange tones.

Pero simply stood there, almost hypnotized by you, trying to keep his deepest fantasies at bay.

You walked over to him with a smile on your face, eyes glowing with a hint of lust as you stared back at him.

“Missed you,” you breathed against his neck, “te extrañé tanto en este último mes.” you added in his mother tongue.

Pero held your gaze for a few seconds, then brought his lips to yours in a slow, languid kiss, fueled by all the love and passion that had built up in the last month.

“Missed you,” you repeated against his mouth as your hands travelled down to the hem of his pants, fumbling with all the different layers until they made contact with the coarse hairs on his lower abdomen.

“¿Qué estás hacien—”

The question was cut in the end when you kneeled in front of him and wrapped your lips around the reddened tip of his cock, sucking it and pulling it deeper into the welcoming warmth of your mouth.

His hands flew to your hair in a desperate attempt of seeking for something to grab as you moved your tongue against the underside of his shaft, licking at the protruding vein. Pero couldn’t see your face properly, the dark shades cast by some pieces of furniture were hiding part of your features, but he could feel your throat struggling to take him all in.

Once his body broke out in a series of frantic shivers, you started to bob your head up and down until the tip of his cock hit repeatedly the back of your throat.

You gagged and pulled away with tears in your eyes and a mix of your spit and his pre-cum smeared all over your chin; dipping your head again, you concentrated your tongue on the tip as your hand worked up his length in a steady, yet powerful rhythm.

Your efforts were soon rewarded: a few deep groans rumbled from the depths of his chest, and a sharp tug at your hair let you know he was close.

“Puta madre…” he hissed, eyes closed and head pressed against the wall behind him, “mierda!”

You felt it in your mouth the exact moment his cock throbbed and twitched before spilling down your throat with spurts of his hot, salty seed.

Looking up at him through your eyelashes, you swallowed his spend, moaning at the taste, and showed him your tongue as proof.

Pero cupped your chin with his right hand, his thumb swiping across your lower lip, and he looked down at you with a smug smile. “Yo también te extrañé, mi alma.”

***

TRANSLATIONS:

te extrañé tanto en este último mes = I have missed you so much this past month

¿Qué estás hacien(do)? = What are you doing?

Puta madre... mierda! = Fucking hell... shit!

Yo también te extrañé, mi alma = I missed you too, my love (my soul)

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