#fine ass papi

[happy-xy]

Omar Apollo Q with Tom Power (September 2024)

[muddy-f1]

HELLO?????

(no clue where this is from 😔)

[eringobragh420]

🖤 Pairing: Damian Priest x f!Reader 🖤 Summary: Damian loses a bet to his girlfriend. Now she gets to use the toys on him. 🛑 Warnings: NSFW. Mild restraints, nipple clamps, vibrator, oral (m receiving), spitting, dirty talk, hair pulling, cum 18+ 🖤 Notes: Spanish translations are at the end of the story. I do not speak Spanish, so if anything is incorrect, please let me know and I’ll fix it!  🖤 Taglist: In the comments. If you’d like to be added, please click here!  🖤 Requested By: @misskukinz95. Hope you enjoy!  🖤 MASTERLIST

“I wish you could see yourself right now,” you purred. “Can I please take a picture?”

“No,” Damian growled, breathless, adding a fuck when you increased the vibration of the nipple clamps. His long, athletic body squirmed on the expensive sheets, eyes closed, dark lashes brushing his bronze cheeks. 

The most beautiful man you’d ever seen was at your mercy, more or less, having lost a bet to you that he’d been positive he would win. Damian had chosen Mike Tyson as the winner, and, rigged or not, Iron Mike had lost. As your boyfriend pouted, you were jumping up onto the couch cushions, glass of wine sloshing about, dancing like you’d just won the lottery. In a way, you had. The terms of the wager had been clear: if Tyson won, Damian would receive a blowjob any time and any place of his choosing—boys are too easy, you’d thought, biting your tongue on asking how that was any different than your regular, everyday life—but if you won, he would allow you to use some of your toys on him. And that was worth its weight in gold.

“Listen here,” you whispered, soft lips grazing the shell of his ear, and you smirked as he shivered, “I’m the one in charge …”

Damian chuckled, the bass in his tone so deep, it had its own discernible vibration from the nipple clamps. “Oh, careful, querida,” he rumbled, eyes opening. You slowly backed away, still smiling, and your eyes met. “You’re never the one in charge.”

“Yeah,” you cooed, gripping his stubbled chin, “you’re so cute when you’re wrong.”

“You really think I can’t get out of this and spank your ass raw just because I feel like it?” your boyfriend retorted, and your eyes switched to his wrists loosely tied to each other and the headboard with the silk belt from the robe you were wearing.

“You could … but do you really want to?” Your nail scraped down Damian’s smooth chest, clinking against his necklace, the chain connecting the clamps, over the bumps and ridges of his well-defined muscles, the pad of your index finger rising over the stiff lump in his black briefs. His back arched and the lump twitched, his cock desperately seeking you. 

Damian breathed a laugh. “The longer you make me wait—”

“Just say I’m in charge,” you interrupted, palming his rigid length before cupping and gently squeezing his balls, “and I’ll rock your world, Papi.” Damian sucked in oxygen through his nostrils, your mouth making a meal of his neck and on down to his shoulder.

“Fine,” he rasped breathlessly. “You’re in charge.” Your heart soared and your pussy tingled, and you even had to force back a giggle. “For now.” You knew what that meant—you’d pay for whatever you did to him sometime in the near future—but you’d cross that bridge when you came to it. Never mind the fact that you tended to enjoy the punishments he bestowed upon you, but that was a secret you would take to the grave.

Straddling him, you crawled down his body, kissing, licking, sucking, biting. Tugging hard enough on the chain across his chest to steal a moan from deep in his throat as you continued to slither southerward. Your chin grazed his bulge, and his hips jerked before you mouthed his rock hard cock through the soft, thin material of his briefs. As your tongue dampened his underwear, distracting Damian with ease, you reached into the velvet pouch beside you to retrieve your secret weapon. The Archer of Infamy had been so worried you’d wanted to use a plug on him, or any other type of toy that might be inserted inside of him, so when you pulled out the mini vibrator—the silicone one that slipped over the pad of your finger and was less than an inch in size—there was no stopping the snicker that slipped from your lips.

“What guy doesn’t love it when their girlfriend giggles while she has her mouth on his dick?” Damian complained, lifting his head to see what was so hilarious.

“No peeking,” you snapped, hand on his jaw so you could gently return his head to the pillow.

“When I get a hold of you …” Damian mumbled, a faint chuckle decorating his words, “you won’t be able to walk for a month.”

Slithering further down his legs, you hooked your fingers under the waistband of his briefs and tugged, Damian eagerly lifting his hips so you could slide them down to his thighs. You didn’t miss the shit-eating grin on your boyfriend’s full, talented lips, and you shook your head. No doubt he was thinking you were about to suck him off. He was probably thinking he got away with one—losing a bet but coming away with the winnings. He couldn’t have been more wrong, and you wanted to laugh in his face, but that would come later. His thick cock lying heavily against his belly had your mouth filling with saliva as if you’d just smelled your most favorite dish in the world cooking in the kitchen. You spit on the exposed underside, emphatically, lewdly, and you allowed Damian to lift his head this time and take in the scenery, simply hiding the tiny vibrator in your fist.

“Fuck yeah,” Damian drawled. “Spit all over that cock, angelita.”

“Gotta get it nice and wet for Papi,” you murmured, spitting one more time before finally wrapping your hand around Damian’s cock, a cock thick enough to make your hand look ten times smaller than it already was. You loved the size difference, always taking a moment to revere him and all parts of him and thank whatever higher power gifted you with such a perfect man.

Following a few flicks of your wrist, you unfisted your hand with the vibrator, clicked it on with your thumb, and placed it behind his balls, applying slight pressure. Damian’s entire body arched, and the roar you elicited from him was incredibly similar to the one he used during live shows. You didn’t bother trying to hide your giggle at his reaction, especially after how concerned he’d been with which toy exactly you’d be using on him. 

“What the f—” Damian sputtered, body lying back on the bed, but his hips continued to thrust against the rhythm of your hand and the slight massaging of the vibrator still against his sack.

“How’s that feel, Papi?” you whispered, lips grazing the soft skin of his balls before you lathered them with your spit-covered tongue, sucking each one into your hot mouth.

“Like I won the fuckin’ bet,” Damian breathed. He missed the wicked grin that flashed across your glistening lips. “Jesus Christ, we should have done this a long time ago.” It wasn’t easy ignoring the urge to roll your eyes, but you succeeded, continuing on your journey to bring your boyfriend exactly where you wanted him. You spit again along his shaft, and it was wet enough at this point to create squishing noises with each stroke of your dwarfed hand. “Fuck, baby, use your mouth,” Damian moaned.

“Well, since I won the bet,” you replied, “I think I wanna hear you beg first.”

“Oh, gatita, you’re askin’ for it,” Damian groaned, finishing with a laugh.

“But you’re not,” you muttered against his balls, licking, kissing, before continuing, “and that’s the problem.”

You noticed the stuttering of his hips. You noticed the short bursts of breath escaping his full lips. You noticed his hands fisting the silk belt barely restraining his wrists. You noticed the tightening of his biceps and pecs and abs and thighs and, most importantly, his balls. Your hand sped up on his cock, flicking your thumb over the head, and you repositioned the vibrator to the base.

“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” Damian announced, surprise coloring his tone. “Please, baby …”

“What, Papi?” you asked, full of fraudulent innocence.

“Please let me cum in your mouth,” he begged, and the desperation in his tone was like a symphony to your ears.

“Do it, baby,” you urged.

“Fuck, fuck,” Damian repeated over and over as he neared the edge of his orgasm. 

Timing it just perfectly, your hand released his dick, your mouth abandoned his balls, and the tiny vibrator on your finger was clicked off. Damian screamed, ripping his hands from the headboard, the robe belt tearing in the process, and he rose like the Undertaker. He reached immediately for his cock, but you blocked his hands, and he started to cum, and he couldn’t fight while he was cumming. You both watched, hands awkwardly intertwined, as his rigid length pulsed with each expulsion of rope after rope of cum, the sticky cream painting his thighs and the lower part of his abdomen. Damian squeezed your hands as he caught his breath and came down. When his fiery eyes met yours, the two of you gazed at each other for a long moment before you broke the silence.

“That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” you whispered, untangling your hands from his and dropping your tongue out of your mouth before beginning to lap up any cum that had landed on his bare skin.

“I’m not gonna say I hated it,” Damian replied, waiting for you to finish cleaning up before snatching a fistful of your hair and yanking you back into an upright kneeling position. He pressed his face to yours. “But don’t you ever let my cum go to waste like that again.”

** Querida - Dear/Beloved ** Papi - Daddy ** Angelita - Little angel ** Gatita - Kitten

[sl0t4matt]

hard launch with hector fort 🙏🏻🙏🏻

h. fort | hard launch

love love this trope. thank u, anon!! also added a few more posts than just the hard launch hope u don’t mind :)

youruser kinda in my wag era rn

liked by hctorforrt_ and 679.055 others

random OMG WHAT

random she’s fine af how did he pull her lmao

╰┈➤ random they are both very attractive bro

random did somebody say hard launch?!

yourbestfriend hottest wag

╰┈➤ youruser luv u

random who’s she and why is she with hector

╰┈➤ random prolly his gf

hctorforrt_ i still don’t know what that means

╰┈➤ youruser r u slow i told you like 10 times

lamineyamal thank god i can’t keep secrets

╰┈➤ youruser 🙄🙄

╰┈➤ random lmao lamine knew

random can someone watch my grwm? 🥺

╰┈➤ random no 🥺

marcguiu9 someone took my bitch

╰┈➤ youruser bohoo 🥺

╰┈➤ hctorforrt_ marc 😫🫃

╰┈➤ youruser homosexuals

╰┈➤ random theyre dating atp

╰┈➤ random LMAO i love her 😭

random noo hector 😓

random wha- shocked.

lamineyamal gonna be a long ass era

liked by creator

hctorforrt_ still not sure how i pulled this 

liked by marcguiu9 and 308,940 others

youruser ur cute

random hottest couple

random i think we missed a chapter or two

random crying rn she’s pretty tho

fcbarcelona champ on and off the pitch 🤙

liked by creator

random lol this came out of nowhere

random she’s beautiful

liked by creator

random WTH HE HAS A GIRLFRIEND

╰┈➤ random yes and she mogs u

random they compliment each other so well

╰┈➤ random fr both hot af

marcguiu9 i accept i guess

╰┈➤ youruser thank you for your blessing🙏🏼

_ferminlopez my kids

╰┈➤ random daddy

╰┈➤ _ferminlopez come again?

╰┈➤ random oh

random she only wants him for money

╰┈➤ youruser omg you caught me 😰

╰┈➤ hctorforrt_ lmao

╰┈➤ random she’s a model i’m sure she has her own money

433 goat good luck!

liked by creator

random HARD LAUNCH ⁉️

hctorforrt_ added to their story

hctorforrt_ she said she would look “so sexy” pregnant

╰┈➤ youruser bitch why would u post that (i would totally rock being preggo)

hctorforrt_ wym you always look good (only with my children tho)

youruser you flirt 🤭 also i’m totally not letting you get away with this

hctorforrt_ yeah sure

hctorforrt_ i was zipping up her dress lol

liked by youruser and 208.086 others

youruser stop talking big you literally couldn’t do it for shit

╰┈➤ hctorforrt_ i did it in the end tho

╰┈➤ youruser yeah when we were already late

random the last one 😍 she’s so cute

lamineyamal papi when r u posting yourself 🥵

liked by creator

╰┈➤ paucubarsi i miss his face too 😔

╰┈➤ marcguiu9 me three

╰┈➤ youruser ew

╰┈➤ random they are so funny 😭

youruser i’m gonna get revenge for the story wait up

╰┈➤ hctorforrt_ shivers down my spine 😱

╰┈➤ youruser okay bitch it just got worse

paucubarsi i think she has something on her nose

╰┈➤ hctorforrt_ omg really bro 😱

╰┈➤ youruser leave him alone 🙄

random it’s always the models

╰┈➤ random literally stop calling yourself a fan when you say shit like that

╰┈➤ random just let him be happy omg?!

youruser i’m kind of liking this wag lifestyle

liked by marcguiu9 and 469.976 others

marcguiu9 JAJAJAJAJA

liked by creator

random omg haha hector looks so cute in that picture

lamineyamal slaying fr

╰┈➤ youruser ate fr

paucubarsi the pic of hector is killing me

╰┈➤youruser u and everyone else

hctorforrt_ you’re evil

╰┈➤ youruser it’s your own fault 🥱

hctorforrt_ just because i’m in love w u doesn’t mean u can do shit like that!!!

╰┈➤ youruser aw you’re in love with me 🤭

lamineyamal nah deserved after that story

╰┈➤ youruser i know right!

╰┈➤ paucubarsi fr did you dirty with that

╰┈➤ hctorforrt_ you’re supposed to be MY friends?!

╰┈➤ youruser hah! they love me more

fcbarcelona hector always been a culer 💙❤️

liked by creator

random why is no one talking about how good she looks?!

liked by creator

[raya-hunter01]

Who am I?

One-shot

PAIRING: Jey Uso x Rhea Ripley

Word Count: 1,153

Warning: Smut!

Jey Uso shows Rhea Ripley what it's like to be his woman.....

“Who am I?” Jey’s smooth baritone voice groaned against my ear as I clawed at the sheets. “Papi!” I moaned in ecstasy as he bent me to his will for the fourth time tonight.

“Mmhm… Dat’s right, it’s Papi, Ree…..I’m your Papi now.”

“Jey, I can’t take it,” I whined as he nibbled on my ear, never stopping his thrusts. “Yes, you can, let Papi help you.  Be a good girl and arch dat back like I showed you earlier.”

Not needing to be told twice I did as instructed, almost collapsing onto my stomach as he went deeper.

“Oh! Shit, Jey,” I moaned, looking back at him. He felt so good, I had to look back at him. This had to be a dream, we really were here in this moment together, right now.

“Yea, look at me beautiful.  Damn, I wish the world could see you now. You doin’ so good and look so beautiful takin’ dis’ dick,” Jey moaned never stopping his powerful thrusts.

“Jey.. Jey, mmm, please don’t stop,” I begged not caring how desperate it sounded as he growled.

“You wit a real one now Rhea, you ain’t gotta beg…I got you, Ma. I know what you need.”

“Umh! Give it to me!” I cried beginning to grind against him as he groaned. His grip on my hips tightened as we moved in sync. “Uh huh, that’s it…You takin’ it so good…Fuck.”

“Yes! Yes! I love takin’ it Papi!” I screamed as Jey began thrusting even harder. “Fuck, I feel it comin’, gon’ give me what I want baby,” he cooed in my ear as my legs began to quiver and I felt like I had to pee.

“Mmm, wait… I need to go to the bathroom, Jey,” I moaned as he grasped my throat. The look of pure hunger, determination, and confidence made my heart race even more. “No, you don’t Ma, you think you do, but you don’t.”

“Uh!...Y- yes, I do,” I moaned as he smirked against my lips. “Breathe, Ree..Let it happen baby. Don’t be scared, I got you.”

 The certainty in his voice overtaking my mind, body, and soul as I tried to fight it. I had never experienced this before. I moaned incoherently, feeling myself outside my body as Jey used his other arm to pull me closer.  “Oouu…Jey, I- I-I -”

“ I stopped earlier, but I ain’t stoppin’ this time Rhea, you hear me?,” Jey whispered taking me in a searing kiss as I whined. I was a mess…What the hell was he doing to me?

Suddenly I gasped against his lips, as I felt myself losing control of my body. “Yea…That’s my girl, you love Daddy talking you through it don’t you?”

“Yes! Talk me through it, please Papi,” I pleaded not caring who heard me through the thin hotel walls.

What is wrong with me? I am Rhea bloody Ripley; I don’t do this. My mind was screaming but he had me under his spell, truly captivated.

“Papi’s right here wit you, relax and breathe Mami. I ain’t goin’ nowhere, I told you dat.”

“Mmh! I know!” I cried as he nibbled on my earlobe. “Then cum for Papi babygirl…Let go for me,” he whispered, as I felt the room spinning. His grip nor thrust ever faltered as he held me tight.  “Jey! Fuck!” I gasped, my pussy pulsing around him.

“Mhm….Yea, dis’ yo’ dick now, Rhea.” His declaration sending chills down my spine. There is no way after tonight we could ever go back to being just friends.

A sudden slap to my ass brought me outta my fog and back to the matter at hand.. My fine ass best friend was knee deep in my pussy.

“Mm,Jey.”

“Tell me you know it’s yours, or I’ll stop.”

“Uh! Fuck! I-…I-I know….It’s my dick now!” I cried at his mercy as he chuckled. “And you love yo’ dick don’t you?”

“Yes, Mhm.. Yes!” I whined, thrilling him to no end as he continued to talk his shit seemingly getting harder by the second.

 “Rhee, tell Papi thank you for dickin’ you down so fuckin’ good, Mami.”

“Thank you, Papi! ” I squealed as he went deeper, a primal growl escaping his beautiful lips.

“This pussy belongs to me now… You all mine now, and I don’t share Rhea.” His declarations and his animalistic thrusts driving me insane, my breath coming in short desperate pants.

“Ooou, I’m yours and I ain’t goin’ nowhere, “I cried, my voice hoarse from my begging… “I ain’t either baby, now let go for me,” he whispered.

“J-J—Jey!” I screamed in ecstasy; my body welcomed a release so great I swear I saw heaven as I soaked both of us and the sheets.

A release so great it triggered Jey to fall into his own release with a strangled growl.

“Yea, that's what I’m talkin’ bout..Fuck, Ree get dis nut Ma, you deserve it.” He moaned as his sweet release mixed with mine, coating my welcoming walls.

 It seemed like hours had passed, but it was only a few minutes as I tried to catch my brain up to the events of tonight in general. The unexplainable pleasure, I had experienced all night courtesy of Mr. Main Event Jey Uso… And trust me, he is the main event.

“What you thinkin’ Rhee?” he asked gently kissing my shoulder as I sighed melting further into his comforting embrace.

 “What are we doing, Jey?” I asked as he caressed my face trying to soothe my nerves.

“Something we both wanted, and as single people have nothing to apologize for.”

 I can’t believe-”

“What? That you wetted my dick and the bed all up like the good girl I knew you were?” Jey asked with a smile.

“Jey! Stop it,” I gasped in horror trying to move, but he stopped me pulling me back against his chest, making me look at him.

“What you getting’ shy for, Ma?  I told you dat you could do it, and oh did you ever. Just squirtin’ like a fuckin’ faucet, and I loved every minute of it.”

“I’ve never done that before, “I whispered as Jey looked at me and smiled before gently easing us onto the bed, away from the wet spot.

“Coulda fooled me, but I can tell you this. It may have been your first time tonight, but it damn sure ain’t gon’ be your last cause you wit’ me now,” he murmured against my lips as I blushed.

“Something tells me that you are trouble, Mr. Uso…. I just know it?”

“Oh, I am, but I promise you, I’m dat good trouble you need in yo’ life,” he said pulling the comforter over us as I melted further into his arms.

“Promises, promises.”

The End

Sorry, it's been so long since I've posted. I've been on empty between being sick, work, and my classes. Thank god this semester is done as of today and I've got time to write again. Missed ya'll!!

Taglist:

@reci24 @southerngirl41 @vebner37 @jeyusos-girl @melaninsugababy @romanreignkisser @bebesobrielo@arination99 @2-muchsauce

@bakugoumarianawrites @empressdede @alyyaanna @christinabae

@anonandwannakeepitthatway @venusesworld jeyusosgirl  theninthwonder mya2real  justazzi @whatdoeseverybodywant  reignsboy19

wooahmiri alichesmi pytbgeezy @ superpietom 

harmshake  truefant4sy  yana3sworld amandairene88

unapologeticqueen94 empressdede xbriexx tshepisho

 thatgirlest98 zdotspinalot mainthingdoja jimingotthajams

rose-bliss mrswolffs-blog maeb99 jstarr86 nbanenefrmdao

sayyestoheav3nn digidestned  heathetherlamont30 trashbin-nie

rebelrel0987 kriissy4gov brokenglassslippers headoftheetable

severenswife sayyestoheav3nn pittieprincess22 mindairy

jaded-human mainthingdoja mrswolffs-blog shamaness11 justarheaslut

[weebsinstash]

I've talked about "oooo what about Reader running away from Val" "what about Reader becoming his friend" well what about a Reader who has a smart mouth and a nasty fucking temper that you can't control and Valentino LOVES to keep you around if not purely because you mouth off and give him excuses to punish you, like literally he gets off on knowing you'll just walk right into something he can use as an excuse to fuck with you

You're just serving him drinks, being nice to him, everything is fine, you're behaving, you're getting along, and you roll up your sleeves and he gives you this LOOK, "you're getting muscular, it's not cute, you're too masculine" and you just hit him with "well one of us has to be" and deftly dodging a glass thrown at your head shortly thereafter while he roars at you asking who the fuck you think you are and THEN you just start insulting him for having a short temper

"Awwwwww, lo siento, papi! I didn't mean to make the BIG STRONG MAN soOoOoooOoo mad! Maybe you can snort another rail off a hooker's tits again to cheer yourself up, that ALWAYS works!"

Like genuinely it's like the worst possible form of a customer service job because if you mouth off to him you're not getting FIRED, you're getting TIED UP AND PADDLED until you're crying and whimpering "I'm sorry mister Valentino I promise it won't happen again"

Cut to the next night where he tells you you're putting on too much weight and you can't stop yourself from saying that you could take some of your fat and put it in his ass since he doesn't have one, and the cycle begins anew....

[the-offside-rule]

Carlos Sainz Jr (Scuderia Ferrari) - Mirrors

Requested: yes

Prompt: 37) "We can't do that here."

                38) "Im supposes to be making you feel good."

Warnings: smut, 18+, riding, papi!carlos

Carlos had been in his gym working out, trying to keep up his fitness since it was the off season after all. He was just finishing up his deadlines, when a figure in the background caught his attention. He watched her through the floor to ceiling mirrors as she walked behind him. Her fingers gently touched his biceps. "Hi, papi." She not-so-innocently said, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. He sighed and watched as she watched back to whatever machine she wanted to use now. Recently his girlfriend Y/n had been so very needy. She had been trying to tease him and in all honesty it was working. Carlos found himself having to constantly go to her and have sex with her just to relieve himself. While yes, it was great, it was getting annoying, but for Y/n, nothing was better than getting fucked by Carlos whilst he's annoyed or angry, so it always worked out for her.

Y/n adjusted the weight on the leg on the laying leg curl before she lay down and started doing her sets. She wasn't doing them properly whatsoever. She instead let the curl hit her ass, catching the attention of the Spaniard behind her. She kept glancing over to him every so often through the mirrors and spotted how hot and bothered he was getting. She loved making him feel this way. She ended up finishing up and decided to deadlift instead. She set up her weights and went about her workout. This would definitely get a reaction. He loved her ass and She made sure for him to notice it. It didn't take long before Y/n had bent with the bar and bumped into the driver behind her. She set the weights down and looked up as Carlos stood behind her, with a disapproving look on his face.

"Do you need help?" He asked. Y/n smiled innocently. "No. Why?" She asked. His eyes fell to her cleavage. He swallowed hard. Her plan was working again. "You're clearly looking for something. My attention maybe?" She shook her head. "No, not at all. It's cute that you think I would revolve my workout on trying to get your attention." He clenched his jaw. "Fine. Be like that." Carlos said staring off to his side of the gym. Y/n smiled again. "I don't know what you mean." She turned and leaned down to grab the bar again, before she heard a low grumbling.

"Alright, I'm sick of this." He muttered. Y/n turned to look at him confused. "Get here now." He growled. "Oh no, we can't do that here." She teased. "Y/n. I said now." He repeated, his voice deeper and more commanding. Y/n grinned. Suddenly, her favourite workout would be her boyfriend. His arms were open, ready to lift her upon impact. Y/n hopped up and grabbed onto his broad and sweaty shoulders. Their lips met in a needy kiss and this is where it started getting messy. Carlos pulled Y/n's shirt off, lifting her breats with his hand and kissing them both hungrily, whilst Y/n tangled her fingers in his hair, her chest heaving with each kiss Carlos gave her. "You're so fucking annoying." He muttered, looking up at her. "So put some manners on me, Papi."

Carlos grinned and slowly dropped to the ground. "Touch yourself for me, princesa." He demanded lowly. Y/n's hands dropped from his shoulders and antagonisingly traced over his abs, before moving up her own torso. She licked her fingers and began pleasuring herself whilst Carlos simply watched, taking out his length. Y/n's head fell backwards. "Hey, eyes down here." He said, gripping her throat and pulling her head to look down to him. Y/n gasped and did what she was told. Carlos' fingers soon joined Y/n's and moved her shorts and panties to one side. "Raise your hips for me, please." He asked. Y/n sat up as Carlos aligned himself with her entrance. "Now, slowly princesa." He held her and helped her down onto his hard length slowly so she could get used to him. No matter how often they had sex, she always needed to adjust to him again.

"Slowly." He repeated as Y/ tried to start a qucik rhythm. "I thought you wanted to work out?" She grinned. Carlos' hands ran up her thigh. "Don't worry. I'll do my hip thrust sets now." Y/n felt herself growing wetter at his words. "Go on, Papi." He grinned and began lifting and lowering his hips as Y/n met his rhythm. They locked eyes. Who would break first? Who would go wild first? Y/n held in her moans, clutching her throat with her own hands. "Ah, no cheating." He said. "But it feels so good." She whimpered. "Hey!" His hand gripped her throat and squeezed lightly. "I'm supposed to be making you feel good." Y/n whimpered. "Oh fuck it." She leaned forward and began bouncing up and down much quicker, much to Carlos' dislike. Another hard slap landed onto her ass. "What did I just say?" He asked. "Papi, I can't help it. You're just too fucking good."

Carlos tutted and stopped his thrusts. "Get off." Y/n looked down. Did she finally push him too far? "Carlos, I didn't mean to. Come on, let's finish. I'll never do it again. I promise." Carlos smirked. "While I love to see you beg, its okay." He stood up, taking her with him and walked the short distance to the nearest wall. I just want to fuck you up against the mirror." She let out a shakey breath as Carlos had her lean against the mirrored wall, only being able to watch her face contort as Carlos done the most unholy of things to her. His hand reached around and took hold of her throat, giving a light squeeze. A strained moan managed to escape past her lips.

The other hand held firmly onto her hips before he delved in without much warning. She held in her noises as best she could, knowing that Carlos would only fuck her harder to hear them and that's what she wanted. She bit her lip as Carlos' thrusts grew harder and harder, that was until he grabbed her hair and messily wrapped it around his fist until it was nothing but a clump. He pulled her head back to look at him in the reflection, her eyes dropping down to look at his delicious lips. "Grita para mi, princesa." He rasped into her ear as he began to pulsate in her, his pattern speeding up. Her head fell back as his hand let go of her hair and instead fell to grip the sweaty skin of her hips. "Te gusta cuando te hablo español?"She gasped as his hand landed a firm smack onto her ass.

"Yes." She moaned, one hand leaning on the mirror whilst the other fell behind her to grab Carlos' arm. "What did you say?" He interrogated. "Yes, papi." She looked back through hazy eyes to see his lazy grin resting on his face. "Dejame escucharte." Those were the only words he had to say and she was a mess. Her throat almost hurt from how loud she was being, but she didn't care; she had been waiting on this all week. His thrusts became sloppy as he felt himself coming towards his high. His hand fell from Y/n's throat, much to her distaste, but that soon ended as Carlos had instead started massaging her clit instead. "Papi, can I?" She begged.

"Wait for me, hermosa." He groaned, nearing with each stroke inside her. "Carlos! Please!" He knew once she started saying his name again, she just needed it and at this stage, he was too close to stop this and tease her. "Finish for me." Y/n gripped his forearm as her walls clenched around him and she found herself coming undone, Carlos finishing up soon after.

Carlos held her close, their bodies sticking together with the sweat. As they caught their breaths, Carlos left a trail of kisses down her back before pulling out gently and lifting her into his arms bridal style. "Too much?" He asked as he carried her to the bathroom. "Not enough." Y/n joked. "Maybe we can always go for a round two in the shower." She suggested, kissing his cheek delicately. "Not in the shower. The water gets everywhere. Not a fan." Y/n rolled her eyes. "You didn't mind in Brazil last year-"

"That was different." Y/n simply looked at him amazed as they got into the shower. Carlos put the water on and the water cascaded down their bodies, almost as if washing away their sins. He reached for Y/n's shampoo, taking some out and beginning to stroke it through her hair. Y/n stood with her head held back as she felt the intimacy of it all. "You're a true gentleman." She said quietly. He chuckled. "How so?" He asked. "You let me finish first and you're cleaning me. What more could I ask for?" He smiled and kissed her shoulder. "I will always look after you. You know that." Y/n turned and looked into Carlos' deep brown eyes, her arms reached up and around his broad shoulders as his hands took their usual place at her hips. "And I am the most fortunate woman to have you."

[luxurychristmaspudding]

On Call | On Call

part ii

summary: sometimes, frankie wonders what he'd do without you. without your help, your laughter, your friendship, the lunches you pack him. and sometimes, when he's alone, he wonders what he'd do with you.

pairing: neighbour!frankie x f!babysitter!reader

ratings/warnings: 18+, MDNI. idiots in love, reader is good with kids. reader and frankie are both bi and have same sex exes. if that’s a problem for you, keep scrolling. fluff, plenty smutty thoughts, f&m masturbation. mentions of grief/dead parent, heartbreak, and biphobia/homophobia. brief competency kink, makin' a man some lunch (in a neighbourly way). drinking.

reader is a teacher, has hair, and there are some descriptions of outfits, but she is otherwise a blank slate :)

wc: 13.1k (normal length fic, my ass)

an: eternal love to @schnarfer for being a constant guiding light and the most wonderful friend. and further eternal love to @din-jarring and @toomanytookas who each make every day a little sunnier.

dividers from the glorious @saradika-graphics

She said call me now baby and I'd come a running If you'd call me now baby I'd come running

- on call, kings of leon

series masterlist | main masterlist

When Frankie gets home Thursday night, weeks later, you’re working at his dining table.

He checks his watch as he closes the front door gently behind him, looking back at the glimpse of you in the kitchen, brows furrowed. It’s late. Surely you should be in front of the TV, fighting sleep.

His footsteps are quiet down the hall, and he pauses in the doorway. You glance up at his soft hey, and he can feel how tired you are.

‘Hey, buddy.’

Your smile is quiet, kind. You watch as he moves to the sink, collecting two glasses, filling them with water.

‘How’d it go?’

You say it at the same time, and it breaks some of the stillness, both pairs of lips lifting in mirrored grins. 

‘Good,’ he says, ‘Glad to be home.’

He moves closer and takes a sip from his water, placing yours next to you, gesturing for you to go next.

‘Fine. Totally fine. She was out like a light after the second read. Best kid ever.’

You take a gulp of your water as he raises his eyebrows.

‘Second?’

Mhm.

‘I usually have to do at least four.’

You giggle, fluttering your fingers at him.

‘Magic touch,’ you whisper, ‘Plenty of practice reading kids to sleep.’

He shakes his head at you.

‘That’s not true.’

‘Mm. I’m sure my ninth graders would disagree.’

Frankie rolls his eyes, sitting down heavily next to you. He rubs his face, huffs a deep yawn as he slouches further down into the seat. You try not to stare, but he just looks so soft. You want to wrap him up in a blanket and lead him up to bed. Lay him down and press kisses to his cheeks.

‘She drew this,’ you say, pulling out a sheet of paper from beneath your piles of books. ‘Personally, I think it’s a good likeness.’

He laughs, properly, as he takes in the flourish of crayon across the page. It’s obvious where you’ve helped her - sketching the outlines of people, houses - and obvious where she took over - a mess of scribbles, rainbows of colour. The two houses, the fence, him and Lucia - Papi and me - and then the colourful tangle of you next door - Bug.

He traces the lines with his finger, gaze softening, heart swelling in his chest.

‘She hold you up, doing this?’

You smile at him, shaking your head. You fumble below the books again, pulling out a second sheet.

‘No. Looked so cute I drew one myself.’

You watch Frankie’s eyes light as he takes in your drawing. His and Lucia’s curls, the books under your arm, the oversized caterpillar in the grass. A tidier version of Lucia’s, one where you’re stood closer together. Like a family. 

He bites his lip, a sparkling swell of joy flooding his chest.

‘Masterpiece.’ He says. You shake your head at him, bashful. ‘Wanna put it on my fridge.’

You scoff at him.

‘Put Luc’s on the fridge.’

He holds your drawing away from you, pushing Luc’s over your papers.

‘Put Luc’s on your fridge,’ he says, ‘And I’ll keep this one. Deal?’

You suck your teeth, grinning.

‘Deal.’

He stands from the table, moving further into the kitchen. When he reaches the fridge, he takes an alligator magnet and pins your drawing to the metal. He steps back, folding his arms. You watch him.

‘Perfect.’ He says. You giggle.

‘You’re a soft bastard, Frankie Morales.’

He laughs, turning back to face you. 

‘Don’t tell anyone.’

You hold out your pinky, and he links it with his.

‘Promise.’

The heat from his hand, so close to yours, is almost irresistible. Your chest heats, and you want to pull him closer, see if he’s that warm everywhere. 

You drop his hand, standing on heavy legs. Your I should get going is muffled through a yawn, and he nods, helping you to gather your things. When you’re ready, he follows you to the door. 

This time, he pulls you into his chest. And he is warm, warm all over, and you could sleep here, suddenly, wrapped in his arms.

‘Goodnight, baby.’ he says, as you step out of his house.

He’s warm, and he’s so sweet. Baby, baby, baby running through your head as you make your way across the grass, smiling to yourself, still smiling when you turn on your porch, facing him stood on his own. Half of his body dimly lit by the glow within his house, shadows across his face as he makes sure you unlock the door and turn the light on safely. You raise an arm to him, and he does the same. You turn it into a flash of your middle finger, and he does the same - grinning to himself at the sound of your giggle across the lawn, cut off only as you close your door behind you. Goodnight, baby.

It still echoes in your mind as you’re pulled from the silken depths of sleep on Saturday morning by the whirring of a lawn mower. You huff, grumble, roll onto your back and press your forearm against your eyes. You have no idea what time it is, but you know for sure that it is too early for whatever this shit is.

Through the dim light behind your arm, you grimace. Your toes are a little cold, body achy like it needs to be stretched out. All fixed with more time spent asleep, except the buzz from outside comes louder now, more incessant. You roll yourself sideways, squinting in the sharper light coming from the window, mumbling to yourself as you sit and push up off the mattress. When you shuffle to the window and pull the curtain aside, you’re surprised. Frankie is up and out already - his front lawn cut into neat stripes - and now he’s gliding up and down yours doing the same. T-shirt clinging to his body, arms and neck shining with sweat. Cap on to keep the sun from his eyes, the curls at the base of his neck damp and dripping. He’s a sight.

 And there’s something about the way he does it, how easy he makes it look. The stripes, the handling of the machine. How he changes the oil of your car, how he can change the tire on his. The way he drives, hand at your headrest when reversing. How he lifts Lucia, how he chops and slices while cooking. So goddamn easy, brow barely even knotted, just his thick fingers working through any problem they come across.

Heat stirs in your cunt.

It’s not that you haven’t thought about it. Him. It’s just that doing so feels… weird. You try not to have detailed fantasies about your best friend next door, feeling disingenuous when you call your good mornings, but certain flashes of thoughts just aren’t so easy to ignore. Stupid ones, like licking his skin when he’s covered in grease, him eating you out over the bed of your truck. Stupid ones like him knocking on your door when he’s done with the grass, coming in to find you reaching for something at the perfect angle in a little summer dress. Thoughts like him bending you over the counter and fucking you stupid, sweat mixing on your skin, the smell of grass flooding your head, tits bouncing in his hands.

Idle thoughts. 

Ones that have you flopped back onto your bed, legs spread, one hand between your slick folds as you work yourself. Moaning and gasping into the heat of the morning, brief flashes of Frankie bursting behind your eyelids. The glimpse of skin and coarse hair you’ve seen when he reaches up to lift something, the shy look he gives you from below his lashes. How soft his mouth looks - what it would feel like on yours, what it would feel like to have him whisper against your thighs right now, telling you how pretty you look, watching your hands before he catches them in his and replaces them with his tongue.

It doesn’t take long before you’re cresting in an easy, all-consuming orgasm. Your back arches against the mattress, eyes squeezing shut as your cunt flutters and pulses, fresh slick gushing from between your fingers. Your thighs twitch as your circles ease, heart beat slowing in its thrumming as you swallow and pant. The mower is still whirring outside. He must be nearly done.

Frankie cuts the machine as he trims the very last patch of your grass to a lighter shade of green.

He peels his shirt away from his skin, flapping it in an effort to cool down. The cap comes off next, one hand swiped across his forehead, the other running air through his damp curls.

It’s warm. Unseasonably warm, and if he had any sense he wouldn’t have cut any grass today. But this Saturday suited him, and once he’s done his lawn, he may as well do yours. You don’t accept nearly as much as you should for looking after Lucia, so he’s taken to sneaking in more favours when he can. An oil change, lightbulbs you can’t reach, an Ikea chair you couldn’t find the time to set up. He knows you’ve noticed. Scowling slightly at how you can’t say no, quick to find a way to repay him. It’s become a welcome game of tag over the last six weeks. You won’t be outdone. In fact, if Frankie was a betting man -

‘Gotcha something.’

When he turns his gaze from the street, squinting slightly, he finds you bounding towards him. Barefoot, glowing with the remnants of sleep, and fucking poured into the most sinful sundress he’s ever seen. Like a teenager, he feels his cock twitch in his jeans, and he scolds himself for it.

‘It’s hot out.’ You grin, holding out a tall glass of something clinking with ice. His own answering smile speaks something of his relief, his gratitude.

‘Sure is.’

He takes the glass from you, giving it a sniff. You roll your eyes.

‘It’s lemonade. I’m not trying to poison you.’ He raises an eyebrow. ‘Yet, anyway.’

He nods, as though you’ve confirmed what he’s long suspected.

‘’S the thought that counts. I don’t get a straw?’

You smack his bicep with the back of your hand as he takes a sip.

‘Dick,’ you grin, ‘I’ll piss in it next time.’

Frankie’s eyebrows shoot up, but he manages to swallow without spluttering it all over you. He considers for a moment, clearing his throat.

‘Nice piss.’

Your mouth pops open, feigning disgust.

‘I said next time, freak.’

He laughs, flashing you a cheesy wink.

‘You love it really.’

You giggle, spinning on your toes like a schoolgirl. He laughs with you, sipping the lemonade, eyes crinkly and affectionate, tracing your lips, the hem of your skirt.

You look up and down the lawn, impressed with his craft. Quiet satisfaction blooms in Frankie’s gut.

‘Looks great,’ you say, pressing his arm. ‘Thank you. You know, you don’t have to do this.’ 

He shrugs.

‘Was out here anyway. Just helping my favourite neighbour.’

You chuckle.

‘Whatever. But you still don’t have to.’

‘Fine,’ he says, pulling a face. ‘I’ll never, ever do it again. I’ll leave you to mow your own lawn, build your own furniture, set your car on fire…’

‘I’m not that bad,’ you laugh, giddy as you step around him. 

‘Bug,’ he says, fixing you in place with a firm hand on each of your shoulders. ‘Baby. I’m not convinced you even know what a wrench is.’

You gasp, genuinely offended this time, and he laughs.

‘Of course I know what a fucking wrench is, asshole. I’ll give you a fucking wrench.’

He laughs harder, and you reach up to swipe his sweaty cap from his head. Before he can grab at it, you’re off, flying in circles across the lawn. He sets his glass down and chases after you, hands slipping through the fabric of your dress. He’s not looking at the plush flesh of your thighs revealed at each stride. Not noticing the way your chest moves, definitely doesn’t see a peek of your ass as you whirl in front of him. He doesn’t, he didn’t, he didn’t. Certainly not on purpose. 

He blames the heat, his earlier exertion for why he can’t catch you. Can’t even try to grab you when you zoom by and scoop up his empty glass, when you round the curve of his fence and wait for him to follow you. He’s barely jogging now, drenched in sweat, breathing heavily. He’s almost at you, cap almost within reach, and then you plant the hand with it in on one of the pickets of the fence, jump, and swing your legs over.

‘That is playing so fucking dirty!’ He pouts, and you cackle at him. 

If there’s one thing you’ve mastered over the last year, it’s hopping the dividing fence. If there's one thing Frankie swears he will not do, it’s swing himself over. Something about his joints, something about his back. Yada, yada as far as you’re concerned.

‘What’d they teach you in Delta Force?’ You tease, ‘Surely it can’t have been any harder than that.’

He flips you off, hands on his knees.

‘You learn to do that in college? How many fences were you jumping?’

You throw his cap to him, waggling your eyebrows.

‘Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy.’

‘Weather boy?’ He wheezes, shaking his head. ‘Not even gonna ask. Christ, you make me feel old.’

You snicker at him again, hopping from foot to foot. He holds out his empty hand.

‘Good game.’

You step forwards, full of faux-graciousness. You take his hand, opening your mouth to snipe something back, but he’s pulling you in too fast for you to process.

And god, he’s wet. Slimy and gross and warm -

‘Get off me, Frankie!’ You howl, and he chuckles, nuzzling his soaked cheek against your forehead.

‘Come over for dinner tonight,’ he says as you squirm in his arms, ‘We’re making pizza.’

You jerk yourself free, and he lets you go, so fucking pleased with himself. You shake your limbs out, trying to erase the sweaty feeling of him.

‘Only if you have a shower first. You fucking stink, dude.’

He begins to back towards his house, and you do the same.

‘I’ll have a shower,’ he says, ‘If you bring a wrench.’

You snort at the bottom of your porch steps.

‘Fuck you, Fish. I ain’t bringing a wrench. And get your goddamn mower off my grass.’

He giggles, a boyish sound so unlike the burly man it comes from. It makes you giggle, too. 

‘See you later, Bug.’

‘If you’re lucky, Morales!’

You never do produce a wrench, but Frankie is always thrilled by the other magic tricks you have up your sleeve. He looks forward to the surprise when he comes home from flying - whole Lego cities in his living room, wonky origami in the kitchen, hama beads you’ve dug up from God knows where. The hama beads, he decides, he could live without. He found one in his sock the other day. 

He’s home from work earlier than he thought he'd be tonight. Lucia tucked up in bed, he’d tiptoed upstairs to crack her bedroom door open, watching the rise and fall of her back before stepping in and pressing a kiss to her plump, toasty cheek.

He’s just finishing making coffee when he glances across the kitchen to a mixing bowl that hadn’t been out this morning. Curious as the coffee brews, he moves closer to the pale blob inside, and pulls back the clingwrap. He sniffs the dough-like mass, but comes up empty for clues. 

He pokes a finger into it, grimacing at the damp sponginess before covering it again and wiping the digit on his jeans. He pours the coffee, adding creamer and sugar, before shouting over his shoulder.

‘Bug,’ he calls, ‘Were you making bread today?’

‘What?’ he hears you answer from the living room, and he smiles as he carries the coffee through to you.

‘I said, were you making bread?’

You’re still where he left you, tucked up on the sofa. You reach for the mug he offers with greedy hands, and he laughs.

‘Bread?’ you ask, taking it, brow furrowing before the confusion clears and you beam up at him. ‘Oh! No. I made playdough.’

‘Made playdough?’ He says, plopping down beside you.

‘Hell yeah, baby. Easy as fuck. Do you know it’s edible?’

‘Edible? You feeding my daughter playdough?’

You roll your eyes.

‘Obviously not. You’re a regular comedian, you know that?’

He chuckles into his coffee, blowing at the steam.

‘Did she eat it anyway?’

‘Not while I was looking.’

He hums at your answer, swinging your legs onto his lap and squeezing your calf.

‘What you watching?’ he asks. You shrug.

‘Some movie. This guy’s a detective tryna take down a drug ring. She,’ you say, flapping a pointed finger at the screen, ‘Is like, a burlesque dancer who’s actually an undercover agent, and he just found out. He’s feeling some type of way about it because he thought he was saving her from some kind of terrible fate, but it turns out she’s totally fine and is actually saving his ass.’

Frankie grins at you, and when you turn your head and catch his eye, you grin back.

‘What?’

‘Nothin’.’

You snort at him. He turns his attention back to the TV.

‘What’s the deal with the monkey?’

You jiggle your legs in his lap in excitement.

‘Oh! You’ll love this. He’s the gang leader. Everyone understands what he’s saying apart from the detective and this one guy who thinks he’s having the worst trip of his life.’

He belly laughs this time, tipping his head against the back of the couch, and you watch, eyes sparkling, as the hoots of laughter leave his mouth. You lean forward and smack his arm, giggling too.

‘Shh, you’ll wake Luc up.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he splutters, still snickering, ‘I’m sorry. Oh my god. If there was ever a movie written for you, it’d be this one.’

You gasp.

‘I know. It’s insane. And the soundtrack is amazing. So many cool songs. And -’ you pause, waiting for the actress to pop back up on screen, ‘She wrote some for it. Can’t remember what her name is right now, but she’s in a band in real life.’

Frankie watches as the woman welcomes the detective into her dark apartment - pin boards full of pictures and maps, a wall that falls away to reveal all kinds of hidden weapons. She turns to face the other actor, and Frankie cocks his head.

‘She kinda looks like you,’ he says, and you make a noncommittal noise. ‘Sure you don’t have a long-lost sister?’

You chuckle, and the camera pans back to the man.

‘I don’t think so. But he looks like you. Just - maybe… a few years older.’

He drops his jaw, staring at you.

‘Just a few?’

You snort.

‘Yeah, Fish. Don’t worry. Old age comes for us all.’

He makes a hurt noise, fingers scrabbling for the bottom of your feet, and you shriek, holding your coffee far away from you as he tickles.

‘Stop!’ you cry, ‘Stop! Okay, I’m sorry! You’re so much younger than him. You barely even look thirty.’

‘Barely - even - thirty -’ he laughs, wrestling with you as he tries to stop from spilling his own drink. ‘Not only did you call me old, you’re a liar, too.’ he stops only briefly to put his coffee down, and you manage to do the same before he launches at you with renewed vigour. His hands are all over you now, finding any sensitive spot he can. You grab and dig your nails into his arms, kicking your legs against his lap, planting a foot against his belly to hold him away.

You speak only in squeaks, hacking coughs and muffled laughter. There’s a pressure building in your bladder, and it only makes your movements more desperate, more uncoordinated. You’re begging, pleading, almost in tears through your yelping, and then your heel digs lower than it should. Frankie’s movements cease as he doubles over your legs, grunting out a pained noise as you whip your feet away from him.

‘My - fuckin’ - balls.’ He gasps.

You try to suck your laughter back through your teeth, but it’s futile. You lean forwards towards him, your palm firm on his back.

‘I’m sorry,’ you wheeze, ‘God, I really - I swear I didn’t mean to do that.’

‘Oh, fuck off,’ he groans, cradling his crotch, ‘There was feeling behind it.’

You snort, pulling his shoulder back so he relaxes into the couch.

‘Come on. It was barely a tap. Lucia could still have a brother or sister.’

He groans anew.

‘I’m in no fit shape for any of that now.’

You giggle and pout at him.

‘Aw. Want me to kiss it better?’

The flush that reddens Frankie’s face is almost immediate, the same heat flashing through your cheeks. Your mouth works to find some kind of joke, something to take it back with, but you flounder. 

‘Keep dreamin’, bug.’

A ha! escapes your lips, and Frankie manages a bashful smile, a shake of his head. But your heart is lumbering in your chest, stomach gooey, and the tips of his ears are glowing. 

He’s not thinking about it. He’s not.

And neither are you.

So he says something stupid about the monkey, and you say something stupid back. Layers on layers of silliness until the giggles return and the nerves are tucked away.

You love this kid. You really do. But it’s been a shitty fucking day.

You’ve not cried in the staff toilets since your training, but today every vibe was off, as the kids say. You’d been about ready to head home, forget about any work you needed to do, pull on your pyjamas and crawl into bed. Instead, you’re trying to blink back stupid tears on your way to the elementary school across town.

You’re not mad at Frankie, not even upset. When he’d called to say there’d been a fire at work and he needed to stay to provide first aid, your stomach had dropped through the floor. Your are you okay? felt clumsy, rushed, pushed against his panicked panting through the line. But he was just as quick to reassure you - he wasn’t even close, but one guy had burns and they might need him to cover the last flight out.

And it wasn’t a problem - isn’t a problem. You love spending time with Lucia, want to be as much help as possible, but man. You just wish it wasn’t today.

When you pull up to the school gates, Lucia is waiting for you. Her tiny backpack clutched in her fists, bright smile as she chatters away to her teacher stood beside her. Miss Lopez, Frankie had texted you, just in case.

The car door is barely open before the curly-haired whirlwind is launching herself in your direction with an excited squeal, crashing into your legs. You laugh, squeezing her shoulders before dropping down to her level. 

‘Hey, baby bean!’

‘Papi said you’d come!’ She beams as you stroke her hair back from her face.

‘He sure did. You gonna come and hang out with me ‘til he gets home?’

She nods like her head’s on springs, and over her shoulder you look to Miss Lopez. She has the sweetest face, a lovely smile. You straighten out and offer her your hand. She takes it, palm soft and dry.

‘Sorry I’m late.’ You offer, and she shakes her head.

‘Not at all. You must be Mrs Morales.’ She says.

You choke on a laugh.

‘Oh - I - I’m not, actually. Family friend.’

Miss Lopez claps a hand to her forehead, grimacing.

‘Of course,’ she says, ‘The office did tell me. I’m so sorry. It’s just been one of those days.’

You chuckle, feeling Luc link her fingers with yours.

‘I know the feeling.’ You smile, and she smiles back. Miss Lopez crouches to Luc's level and gives her a gentle boop on the nose.

‘Be good, be safe.’ She says, and Lucia giggles, starting to pull you back to your car. Her teacher waves to you. ‘See you soon!’

You make sure to return it, ushering Luc to the car.

When she’s buckled in, she gently tugs the chain of your necklace.

‘I missed you.’ She says, eyes wide and earnest. Heat pricks behind your eyes again.

‘Missed you too, bean.’

It’s been a shitty fucking day, so you make cookies. 

It’s easy to do, and mostly for you, but Luc is fucking delighted. You make sure to dig out her little chef’s hat, and she whizzes around the lower cupboards grabbing a mixing bowl for you. She loves it, more than anything. She’s a star with shaping, mixing, tasting. On the same page as you about eating the dough, and very content to sit by the oven door to watch them melt and bake in front of her. Easy entertainment, and she’s in your sights as you grade your essays at Frankie's kitchen table. 

You know you’re not being fun. Not mustering the same kind of sunshine you usually do so effortlessly for her, not that she seems to notice. You try to keep a smile going when the cookies are done, packing a small box of them into your bag and eating two each before dinner. She might not finish the whole meal, but she looks at you like you hung the moon.

When you settle down to watch Frozen again later, her head starts to bob half an hour in. You let her fall asleep cuddled up next to you, and when another half hour passes, you extract yourself, gather her tiny body in your arms, and carry her to bed. 

You set her down gently, pull the covers up to her chin, and watch her snuggle down in the blankets, nuzzling into their softness. You feel so weak, so goddamn tired, so disappointed in yourself for not playing like you usually do, for not encouraging her to sing and dance with you, for not reading her her usual bedtime story. It’s important for development at her age, a nasty little voice reminds you, and it just feels like something else you’ve failed at. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, turn on her nightlight, and lean down to kiss her cheek. Her skin is so warm, so soft. You gently swipe the curls from her face.

‘Night night, little love.’

You’re still marking your essays when Frankie comes home. 

You know you shouldn’t be. You know you should have curled up on the sofa or in the guest room like he’s told you to before. Know you should be asleep, barely managing to keep your eyes open, but you feel so fucking miserable, and you’ll be damned if Frankie comes home to you crying wrapped in his duvet.

Your coffee is cold, and a sip of its chill only serves to spark irritation in your stomach. You begin gulping it down, wishing it gone, before spilling some on the sheet of paper in front of you. You curse quietly just as you hear his keys in the door, dabbing at the blotch on the page as he toes off his boots in the hall. Your pressing only seems to be making it worse, little flakes of paper coming off on your sleeve as he enters the kitchen. 

‘Hey,’ he says quietly, ‘I thought you’d be asleep.’

You give up, leaning back in your chair to look at him. 

‘How’d it go?’ You ask, throat tight.

He shrugs. 

‘Okay. Dylan has some burns and Eddie is pretty shaken up, but they’ll both be okay. Ended up taking Dylan’s last flight.’ 

You take a deep breath. 

‘I’m sorry, Fish.’

‘Why? You didn’t set fire to it.’

You know it’s one of his usual quips. You know he’s not trying to be smart, not trying to rile you up. But you can feel it happening, all the same. 

‘Are you okay?’

He looks at you, assessing. It’s not like you to not snipe something back, not like you to not take the joke further. 

‘I’m fine. Just took me by surprise, that’s all. I’ve seen worse.’

You nod. He frowns. He doesn’t like it when you’re quiet. 

‘Sorry I was gone so long.’

It hangs in the air for a moment. You clench your teeth, frustrated at yourself for the undeserved irritation. 

‘You were at work. ‘S not a problem.’

He’s staring at you. You can feel it as you lean forwards again, pen in your hand. The words in front of you blur. 

‘Whatcha reading?’

You should go. You should really pack up before this ridiculous anger bubbles over. It’s not Frankie who deserves it, not the kids who deserve it. You should sleep on it, get some perspective. Fuck, do some mindfulness or something. 

Frankie drums his fingers on the wood when you make no reply, and you glower at him as he moves around the table, eyes fixed on your pile of marked essays. He thumbs the corners, and you bristle.

‘Oof,’ he says, picking up the last paper you graded. ‘F for Fail?’

‘No,’ you bite, ‘F for fuck off, Frankie.’

His eyes flick to yours, surprised, and he’s greeted with a wall of fury which he’s never seen before. It shocks him enough to put him on the back foot. Show his belly. He whistles lowly, dropping the paper back onto the pile, and is rewarded with something akin to the gnashing of teeth. The pieces slot together in his head. The bags under your eyes. How short you’re being. 

‘Okay,’ he says, ‘I think that’s enough for tonight.’

‘Don’t patronise me.’ You hiss, and it’s like you’re an open book for him to read. The flame in your stomach roars to life at the look he gives you. You need to take a nap.

He pulls the rest of the papers away from you, and you try to claw them back, outraged. He grabs your hands, holding them away from your work, and your wrists twist in his grip.

‘Frankie,’ you seethe, ‘Let me go. I’m not fucking around.’ 

But he doesn’t. He’s seen you worked up before, knows you better than you think. Knows this isn’t just the result of a few bad essays, knows this is because of something more. Knows how to make you feel better. ‘Francisco Morales,’ you start, ‘Get your fucking hands off me -’ 

He tightens his fingers again and tugs you up off the chair. It squeaks across the floor as you stand. Something about your attitude sparks a flame south of Frankie’s stomach, and he swallows sharply. Nothing a good hard fuck couldn’t fix, and he blinks at himself, surprised. He drops your hands. Where the fuck did that come from?

‘Get off -’ you growl, and he points at you.

‘Sit your ass on the couch. I’ll be there in a minute.’

You set your jaw and glare at him, and he raises an eyebrow. He watches as your mouth twists into a scowl before you turn on your heel and stomp through to the living room.

He takes his cap off, scrubbing a hand through his hair and exhaling through his nose before adjusting himself in his jeans. He tidies your papers, puts pens and markers back into your pencil case, closes your laptop, packs your bag. Moves to the cupboard for two mugs, busying himself with tea and coffee as he tries to push thoughts of your furious eyes from his mind. How he could kiss the frown from your forehead, the scowl from your lips, how he could take you apart with his mouth, his cock, make you forget, make you feel better -

When he steps into the living room, you’re sat with your back to him, crowded into a corner of the couch. He places your tea on the table behind you, and his coffee on the other at his end. He lowers himself onto the cushions, relaxing against the leather, watching you. Your shoulders are almost up to your ears, fingers picking at the skin around your nails, eyes on your lap. He waits, chewing his cheek, hands twitching at the way your nails dig into skin.

‘I’m sorry for snapping at you.’

Your voice is small, quiet. He rubs his eyes and sighs.

‘It’s okay, baby. I know you didn’t mean it,’ he pauses. ‘I’m sorry for - manhandling you.’

You huff a breath through your nose, scratch at your knuckle. Frankie feels the worried pit in his stomach start to yawn.

‘Bug,’ he says, softly, ‘Talk to me.’

You wipe your hands over your thighs, and Frankie wonders whether it’s him. Something he’s said or done. He knows he’s not been looking hard enough for another sitter - maybe you’ve just had enough. His gut twists.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing - just. A bad day, is all.’

Too fast. He can feel his eyebrows lift.

‘Because of the tests?’

You shake your head.

‘All of it. The whole day was wrong.’

Frankie waits again, resisting the urge to move closer to you. You need a moment, though everything in his body wants you near right now. The scratching at your knuckle is incessant, and Frankie observes the movement with his own growing anxiety. You clear your throat.

‘All my lessons were shit. Everything was shit. I forgot reports and data drops, and the kids wouldn’t shut the fuck up, and I yelled at my favourite class, and almost everyone in my tenth grade group failed their assignment, and I just - couldn’t smile enough, wasn’t good enough for Lucia, and I’m so tired,’ you rush out, pressure building behind your eyes and at the back of your throat. ‘I’m tired, Frankie.’ You whisper.

He’s nodding, hands clasping and unclasping over his lap. 

‘Bug, baby,’ he says, so gentle, ‘Please don’t worry about Luc. Don’t ever worry about not being good enough. You know she thinks the sun shines out your ass,’ he pauses, but there’s no giggle. ‘And I bet your lessons weren’t shit. You had a bad day - that’s all. That does not make them shit.’ He can see your head quirk minutely, hear the thought as though you’d spoken it aloud. Wrong. He keeps going. ‘And things get forgotten, but they’ll get done. Did anyone say anything?’

You shake your head.

‘No. Helen just said they need to be done as soon as possible.’

‘So no one was upset? No one yelled?’

You shake your head again.

‘So it’s fine. You won’t be the only one, bug. And kids never shut the fuck up. It’s annoying as fuck. You know how long I’d last in that classroom?’

‘Five minutes?’ You say, a tiny curl of amusement in your words.

‘Twenty fucking seconds. You’re a saint.’

He hears it, though faint. A small huh of a laugh. He continues, smiling a little.

‘And fuck the tenth graders. If they shut the fuck up, they’d have done it properly. They wouldn’t have fucked it up. They wouldn’t be making my best pal upset, here on my couch.’

You breathe out, shoulders sagging.

‘Maybe they found it hard, though. Maybe I didn’t do a good enough job of explaining it all -’

‘Ah,’ Frankie interrupts, ‘Maybe. But were they concentrating when you explained it? Or were they talking football teams and weekend plans?’

The scratching stops. Frankie counts the seconds by the tick of his heart beat as you pop your knuckles and sigh again. You still haven’t looked at him. 

You suck air through your teeth.

‘Football teams and weekend plans. But they still - the results are awful, Frankie. They’re gonna think I can’t do my job.’

‘They’re not gonna think that. They’re not. This is one bad day, one bad result. You’re doing all you can. But you can only do so much, bug. Today was just not your day.’

Your body is vibrating with tension. You link your fingers together, watching the way the skin shifts between the joints.

‘It just - it wouldn’t be so hard if they fucking listened to me,’ you say, still quiet, but angry again now. Upset in a way that makes Frankie’s chest swell. ‘And then I get to thinking - maybe it is me. Maybe I’m just shit at my job and nobody’s bothered to tell me yet -’

‘Enough. You’re not doing this. Of course someone would have told you. Bug, they’re kids. They don’t even listen to their parents when they’re told to defrost the chicken when they get home from school. You’re not doing anything wrong.’

In the low light, Frankie can see you bite your lip, chin wobbling.

‘Hey,’ he says, softly. ‘Hey. Don’t cry. If anyone should be crying, it’s them. You’re doing your best. The least they could do is meet you halfway.’

‘But it’s my job, Frankie. And I care.’

‘I know you do, baby,’ he says, finally leaning forward, squeezing your thigh, ‘I know you do. So - what can we do? You’re tired. Lots of sleep. Long lie in on the weekend. But there’ll be lots of things you can do to turn things around. What can you do for tenth grade?’

You look up, finally. He gets a glimpse of your eyes, panicked, worried, before you turn them away again. You swallow, nod.

‘I guess I could… break it down for them. When I give their marks back. We could write an answer together. And Lucy showed me a really good feedback grid I can print for them all so they know what to work on.’ 

‘Good. That’s good. Make ‘em write it again?’

You twist your fingers.

‘Yeah. I guess so. There’s time. And they could do with the practice.’

Frankie squeezes your thigh again, stroking his thumb against your pants. You huff.

‘There. See? Already fixin’ it. Easy, peasy, lemon squeezy.’

You quirk your head.

‘You’d think. More like - fuckin’ - difficult, difficult, lemon difficult.’

A slow smile spreads across his lips, despite himself. And when you look up, catch it, you fight to keep your mouth from doing the same.

‘You can laugh, bug,’ he says, ‘That was funny.’

A small giggle floats from between your lips, but it’s still watery. He can taste the salt in the air.

‘What else?’ he says.

You shake your head, retreating back into yourself again.

‘Bug?’

Your eyes are back down on your hands, fingers twisting, twisting, twisting.

Frankie holds his breath, heart aching in his chest. He can feel it radiating off of you, something deeper, painful.

‘I just - it made me think maybe I’m not cut out for it. Maybe I’m not as good as I hoped I’d be, and -’ you cut yourself off, throat tight. You swallow, and Frankie leans towards you. One of his huge hands reaches out to yours, and he gently pries his fingers between your palms, thumb stroking over your knuckles. The tears come without you realising, hot and quick, so many of them you’re startled. ‘And maybe - not as good as dad said I would be.’ You shrug again, wounded, vulnerable. Frankie shifts, the arm closest to you wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you to his chest. Your voice catches, fear and guilt straining against sound. ‘That was the worst part. I felt like I was letting him down.’

‘Letting him down?’ He says into your hair. You feel his lips against your scalp as he speaks. ‘My god, bug. How could you ever think that?’ He squeezes you tighter, and you fight the sobs clawing up your throat. ‘Every day, you go in there and you kill it. No one in that school has ever said a bad thing against you. And you come home with notes, drawings, emails from kids and staff and parents who tell you that you’re making a difference. That you’re helping them learn, you’re making them feel safe, feel like they’re worth the time you give them. Do you know how special that is? Do you know how many of those kids come to you for that?’

A broken noise escapes your mouth, and Frankie begins to rock you gently. 

‘I’m proud of you,’ he says, ‘And I know if I’m proud of you, your dad is watching you with his heart about to burst. You could never let him down. Look at you. You are so special.’

You hiccup against him, and Frankie nuzzles his face into your hair. Your tears are hot, damp through his t-shirt, but you can’t stop. You hold to his arms, breathing him in as holds you close. Your legs are going numb, head aching, and you don’t know how long you sit there like that with him holding you. He soothes you with quiet whispers, waves rushing in and out, and once your breathing is back to normal you pull away from him with a great sniff. You laugh at yourself, wiping at your face. He smiles gently back, little crow's feet ceasing the corners of his eyes. 

‘You okay?’ He asks. 

You nod. 

‘Yeah. Just gross. Need to blow my nose.’

He shakes his head at you. 

‘You’re never gross.’

You roll your eyes at him, and he chuckles. 

‘There she is.’ 

You shift on the sofa, stretching and popping your joints before hauling yourself up to go to the bathroom. 

‘Do you want anything?’ You ask shyly. He shakes his head. 

‘Nope. Take your time.’

You shut the door quietly behind you in the bathroom, stepping to press your head against the cool tile. You try to empty your mind, but your chest is heavy. Everything that Frankie said, everything that was so easy to share with him. You’d thanked your lucky stars many a time over the last year that he’d bounded out his front door the evening you’d moved in, but now there was something more to it. You roll your head against the cool ceramic and press your fists to your chest. Your dad was a man who believed in fate, in things happening for a reason. Here, in the quiet calm of Frankie’s house, you have a feeling that he pulled some strings. That he knew who you’d need. 

Lips almost pressed to the tile, you whisper to him. 

‘Thanks, dad.’

The words hang in the air, slung out the universe, met with warm silence. Your throat tightens again, and if you close your eyes tight, you’d swear he was at your shoulder. Like you could turn around and he’d be there. 

When the tightness passes, you inhale deeply and turn to the sink. You splash your face with cold water, blow your nose, and make your way back to Frankie. 

He’s right where you left him, the TV on quietly. You flop down into your usual position, and he makes motions for you. You swing your legs onto his lap, and he runs his hands up your shins. Gentle, tender care again. You tip your head back and speak to the ceiling. 

‘Thank you.’

He’s quiet for a moment. 

‘You don’t need to thank me, bug.’

You make a noise of dissent. 

‘You should know. You should know how much I appreciate you. How much I love you.’

You blink at the lights and shadows above you. How easily that slipped off your tongue. It’s never been difficult for you to tell your friends you love them. Hell, you even said it to the lady who served you at the store the other day. But something about saying it to Frankie feels… different. 

Your breath gets caught in your chest, and then Frankie’s thumbs dig into the flesh of your calves. 

‘Love you too, bug.’

You inflate your lungs at the same time as he kneads a particularly tense spot on your leg, and you loose a quiet groan. You’re not sure if you imagine the minute pause of Frankie’s hands before he thumbs the same spot again. 

‘Fuck.’ You hiss. 

This time, he does pause. He pauses and prays you don’t feel the way his cock twitched. 

‘Does that hurt?’

You pull your head back up and find him watching you with dark eyes. 

‘No,’ you say quietly, ‘Not really.’

He nods, studying your face at the next pass of his fingers. Your wince at the tension, but the relief that follows makes your eyes close. This time, he runs his knuckles over your muscles, and you bite your lip, eyes flickering open to meet his. You sigh. 

‘That good?’ He asks. 

You can’t say anything, nothing that wouldn’t betray the flood of warmth sparking in your cunt. 

Mhm. 

He nods, kneading further down your leg. Your head flops backwards again, lip clamped between your teeth, brow furrowed as you will your body not to betray you. You almost have it, almost, fingers flexing against the couch cushions, until he presses his thumbs into the arch of your foot and you moan. You fucking moan. 

You freeze, teeth releasing your lip as you gasp, but he keeps going. Running his thumbs over and over the sore muscles as you let out quiet little gasps, squirming against the couch, soaking your panties. 

‘Jesus Christ, Frankie.’

‘Relax,’ he says, ‘You’re fine.’

You are not fine. Every synapse in your body is firing, every nerve ending alight. You begin to panic, begin to wonder whether you could come from a foot massage alone. Your eyes find his face again, and he turns his head slowly to look back at you, digging firmly into a particularly sore spot. You whine, more pain than pleasure this time, and he presses harder. Hot hurt shoots up your spine, and you whip your foot away from him, breathing heavily. Like dawn breaking, Frankie’s face clears.

‘Fuck,’ he rasps, ‘Sorry, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?’

You wince, flexing your foot against the carpet. 

‘’S okay,’ you murmur, trying not to pant, ‘Just a little too deep.’

You can’t look at him. You’re so sure that this man does everything from the good of his heart, with the express intention of making you feel better, but you can’t ignore how your body is buzzing. He can’t possibly know how turned on you are right now. Just a friend comforting a friend. Just a friend. Jesus Christ.

You glance at your watch and curse, all but leaping off the sofa. Frankie stares after you, panicked.

‘Bug -’

You whirl around to smile at him, realising just how wet you are with your thighs pressed together.

‘It’s fine. You didn’t hurt me. I should just - I should really get going.’

He hasn’t moved from the couch, hands crossed in his lap like he’s afraid to move.

‘I’m sorry.’ He whispers. 

‘Don’t be,’ you say - too brightly, too quickly. ‘Don’t be. I - thank you. For everything. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

And you’re gone. Bag grabbed, barefoot, shoes in hand, flying out the front door, across your lawns, into your own house. Dumping the shoes and peeling off your clothes in the safety of your bedroom. You flick the bedside lamp on and yank open your bedside draw, rummaging around for your vibrator, pressing it to your throbbing clit before you’re even on your bed. 

Your body jerks at the sensation, knees giving out as you moan, long and loud, free hand fisting the sheets as you rock back and forth on your hands and knees. Something clatters through your mind, something confusing and guilty, some mix of emotions that stirs in your chest and in your gut, something that tells you you shouldn’t be doing this - again. Shouldn’t be this close to coming already, shouldn’t be so wet, shouldn’t be shaking this hard. Shouldn’t be moaning so loud, so desperately, shouldn’t be thinking of the way Frankie’s dark eyes bored into yours, the way he worked his fingers over your sore muscles, how he’d held you there so you couldn’t escape. What he’d think of you dripping all over his couch from just touching you through clothes. 

You tilt your ass up further, resting your forehead on your arm, feeling sweat gather on your hairline. In your mind, Frankie’s hands are climbing up further than they were before, kneading up your thighs, squeezing and rubbing, all the way until his thumb grazes the edge of your panties. You can imagine how his eyes would get darker as he felt the slick there, so wet it made the closest press of your thighs damp through the fabric. How you’d hold your breath and his gaze as he slipped two fingers beneath the gusset, how he’d sweep them through the wetness there, just spreading it, teasing, enjoying how wet and ready for him you were before slipping both digits inside, easy, so easy -

You clench your teeth against the cry that seeks to force its way past your lips, breath stuttering in your lungs as your body seizes and pulls, cunt clenching and pulsing with your orgasm. Your head slips off your forearm onto the sheets and you curse quietly, betrayed by how easy it had been to come. 

You stand on shaky legs, turning the vibrator off with a click before leaving it on the duvet. You kneel and survey your room, the unread books, the pile of laundry, the freshly ironed shirt ready to wear tomorrow. The window across from you, bare of curtains, looking straight through to - fuck. For fuck’s sake.

Frankie’s bathroom light is on across the dark expanse of midnight grass. You freeze, naked, terrified for a moment that you will see him step into frame and catch you red handed. As if he’d know. As if he’d be able to tell, just from the look on your face, that you’d come so quickly, so easily, to the thought of him slipping his hand beneath your panties. 

But he doesn’t. With an arm over your chest, you whip the curtains over the gaping glass, and get ready for bed. 

Frankie can taste blood.

He barely even registers it, lip clamped between his teeth as he fists his dripping cock in the bathroom mirror. 

He’d sat for a few minutes on the couch after you’d left, trying to will his arousal away, terrified you might have forgotten something and come flying back through the door. Terrified Lucia might be rattled awake and find him to ask what the noise was about. 

When neither had happened, he’d unzipped his fly to relieve some of the aching pressure. He’d turned off the TV and all the lights, something swelling in his chest at the sight of the plate of cookies on the counter, piled high, and hauled his ass upstairs. The movement had made it worse. 

The friction against his cock at every step of his tired feet made him ache fiercely, and he’d forgone his bed, heading straight to the en-suite, where he’d  whipped his t-shirt off and pulled himself out. 

He’s trying to be quiet. Trying so hard as he draws his fist over his tip, spreading the precum down his length, as he twists and tightens his hand. His heart is racing, body thrumming with desire. He’s trying not to think of them, but those sweet, desperate little sounds you made are flooding his mind. He’s fucked. So fucked. 

And he’s weak. 

Weak at the knees at the thought of you laid out on his couch. At the thought of his hands drifting higher, at maybe finding your panties soaked. With his eyes closed, he can imagine your face - shocked, desperate, aching for him the way he is for you. He’d swipe his fingers along your slick slit, and he’d taste them - fuck, he’d give anything to know what you taste like. And when you begged, he’d strip you down and spread you out. He’d lower himself between your legs and kiss every inch of skin he could find. He’d breathe in the scent of you, nose the crease between your thigh and cunt, and he’d eat you. He wants to know what other sounds you make as he takes you apart, wants to lick you from your hole to your clit. Wants to hold you down as you squirm, wants his fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet. And he wants to make you come. Wants to drink you down as he feels you twitch and pulse beneath him, and then he wants to fill you with his cock. 

He tightens his fist again, barely muffling his groan. He wants to feel you stretched out, gasping as he pushes in. Wants to lean his forehead against yours as he whispers how beautiful you are, how good you’re being, letting him take care of you like this. Wants to see you cry for a different reason, wants to taste the salt on your skin and know it’s him who’s making you feel this good, that it��s only him who can fuck you like this.  

Wants to make you his, wants to feel you come around him, watch your eyes roll into the back of your head - 

He moans as he spills into his fist, cock kicking and jerking with every spurt of milky release that escapes him. Blood roars in his ears and he strokes himself until he whimpers at the sensitivity, panting hotly. 

His mouth is bloody and raw in the glass, eyes wide and guilty. He turns from his reflection in shame, ripping toilet paper and cleaning himself gently, trying not to think of your hands, your mouth, how you might look with his spend leaking from between your legs. 

He throws the paper in the toilet, tucking himself in and pushing the lever. 

He turns after flushing the evidence of his fantasies away, and is fixed with the disapproving eyes of the Star Wars duck on the edge of the bathtub. He pulls a face at it and flips it off.

‘Don’t look at me like that. I bet you do it when she’s not watching, too.’ He says, pointing to the sparkly gold one beside it. 

The duck glares back at him, accusatory, and he sticks his tongue out at it as he swings the door open, flicking off the light before stepping out. He closes the door firmly behind him, and leaves the ducks to their domestic.

Frankie snoozes his alarm the next morning, eyelids fluttering against his pillow as he wraps his arms around his tangle of duvet. He’s warm, limbs languid, still in the haze of a sweet dream, a familiar scent hiding behind the edges of sleep. 

He’s almost passed out again when he jerks awake, adrenaline flashing through his veins as he stumbles out of bed and into Lucia’s room. She’s asleep still, groggy as he gently stirs her, mumbling into her teddy about not wanting to go to school. And despite his best efforts, they’re both sluggish, slow, running late as he dresses her and then himself, as he makes breakfast, as he packs her bag, as he reaches into the refrigerator to grab her lunch - 

Shit. Her lunch. 

He throws a frantic glance at the clock, muttering a fuck too quiet for his daughter to hear as she waits behind him with her shoes, ready for him to put them on. He turns and kneels in front of her, placing one foot on his thigh so he can finish getting her ready. He makes a calculation that includes stopping to get her something from the store on the way to school, but there’s just not enough time -

He whips the door open so quickly it startles you, your hand flying from where it was about to knock. Your stomach is churning, heat crawling up your spine with how fucking weird you must have been last night. 

Frankie looks just as surprised to see you as you are him. 

‘Bug?’ He says, paused in the doorway with Lucia hitched on his hip. 

‘Bug!’ She crows, delighted with the early morning visit, oblivious to her father’s rush. You beam back at her, greeting her with a mornin’, mini Morales, before looking back at Frankie. Something in his chest goes gooey. 

‘I made lunch for you both,’ you say shyly, quickly. Frankie’s eyes drop to the two bags you have held out. ‘I didn’t think you’d have time last night. And I wanted to apologise. I didn’t mean to give you shi- a hard time when you got home. And I’m sorry I ran out so fast.’

Frankie sucks a breath through his teeth, heart rate settling. 

‘You’re a goddamn angel,’ he says, ‘You know that?’

You chuckle a little, looking down at your feet. His heart swoops, and he knows he shouldn’t, knows he won’t, but he wants to ask. 

He wants to ask you why you flew out the way you did. Wants to know why your bedroom light was on so late. Wants to know if there’s some wild possibility you were caught up the same way he was. But he doesn’t. 

Instead, he pulls you in for a one armed hug, and with all the gratefulness he can muster, says -

‘Thank you, baby. Luc, what do you say?’

Lucia grins at you with all her teeth. 

‘Thank you, bug.’

You giggle. 

‘I packed you extra cookies.’ You whisper conspiratorially, and Luc claps her tiny hands. 

You smile up at her, and she reaches out for the bags. You make sure she’s got them handled before turning your smile to Frankie, and he’s sure his heart stops. There’s worry in your eyes still, and it takes everything in him to not swipe a thumb along your cheek, to not press the fullness of his mouth against yours. 

‘We’re going to the beach on Sunday,’ he says, ‘Do you wanna come?’

Your smile brightens, widens. Relief washes over your features. 

‘Please!’ Lucia joins, ‘Pleasecometothebeach - we're gonna build sand castles and bury Papi and swim and eat ice cream -’

Frankie clasps his hand over her mouth, and she cackles against it, legs swinging against his hip.

‘I’d love to.’ You say. 

The beach is a raging success. 

From the moment you’d felt the silky sand brushing between your toes, it was like the stress of the week had melted away. 

Lucia had grabbed your hand as soon as Frankie had dropped the cooler in the best spot he could find, squealing and running all the way to the ocean with you beside her. Frankie had laughed as he ran to catch up, hitting the waves just after you, sweeping Lucia up in his arms as she shrieked with laughter, swooping her low so her toes swept through the water. You swam and paddled together for a while, Frankie only leaving to grab a ball so you could play piggy in the middle in the shallowest shallows.

Now, laid out on the blanket you’d brought, with the sun warming your skin, you close your eyes. 

Everything feels slow - the tick of your heart, the carousel of your thoughts, the way you drag your fingers through the sand at your side. You’re drifting into the arms of sleep when there’s the soft snick-crack-fizz of a can beside you, and then you’re suddenly thirsty.

You peek through one eye at Frankie beside you, and like he feels it, his eyes flick to yours. He offers you the open soda before reaching into the cooler for another. You sit up, groaning a little, twisting to look for Lucia.

She’s still slumped on the sand throne you and Frankie had built her, now fast asleep. Legs planted, arms settled on the armrests like a stately little Lord. Her head tilted back, tiny sunglasses and flowery sun hat on. You can’t look at her for too long before you get the giggles, it’s so fucking cute.

Frankie follows your eyes, mouth lifting in amusement, raising his eyebrows at you.

‘We should take a picture. One for her 18th.’ 

You giggle, and he takes a sip of his drink before flopping down beside you. You take a long pull from your own can before doing the same, turning on your side to face him. Frankies fights to keep his gaze steady, something he’s been trying to do all day. Trying to avoid the skin that had been revealed to him today, trying to avoid how soft you look, how comfortable, how gorgeous. How your skin would taste, how it would feel against his. He closes his eyes.

You watch him. The strong sweep of his nose, the fullness of his mouth. The scruff of his beard, the bare heart-shaped patch before the line of his jaw. Your eyes sweep lower - the wide expanse of his chest, golden skin that seems to go on for miles and miles. It makes your mouth run dry. 

It’s not like you haven’t seen him shirtless before in the hot Florida summer, but up this close, it’s different. The soft band of his belly, the smattering of hair above the waistband of his trunks. The silvery bud of a scar above his hip. 

When you glance back to his face, he’s watching you. Your eyes dart down again.

‘Mexico,’ he says, ‘2016.’

You nod, and reach out your hand. Slowly, softly. Frankie holds his breath, stomach tensing.

You run the tip of your finger along the puckered edge of the scar, and he shudders. You pause, untacking your tongue from the roof of your mouth.

‘Does it hurt?’

‘No,’ he reassures, ‘Just - tickles.’

It’s a half truth. 

It doesn’t hurt. It does tickle. And there’s a burst of heat beneath his skin where your fingers graze him.

‘Was it bad?’

He smiles slightly.

‘Just a scratch.’

You hum quietly, swiping your thumb against it tenderly. He watches you, mouth parted, heart burning. It doesn’t look like a scratch, but you’re not one to pry.

The moment is broken by a soft coo behind you, and Frankie’s eyes lift to it. You roll onto your back.

A woman flashes you and Frankie an apologetic smile.

‘Sorry,’ she says quietly, gesturing to Lucia, ‘She just looks so cute.’

You smile breathlessly, a little flustered. She’s gorgeous. So tan and smiley and stunning.

‘Gets all her looks from me.’ Frankie jokes, and you roll your eyes. The woman smiles.

‘I think you mean her mama.’ She says, nodding to you before continuing on her stroll. You’re still too taken aback to correct her, trying to loosen your tongue before Frankie takes any offence. He laughs beside you, and you roll back to him to apologise -

‘You are literally no better than a man.’

It’s not what you were expecting, and the shock of it makes you laugh, too. You land a soft punch to his arm, a grumbled shut up shot from where you bury your face in the sandy blanket.. But it feels good, the ease at which the jokes come. 

To think, there’d been a night on your porch not long after you’d moved in when you’d mentioned the name Annie and clammed up, panicking about what questions would follow next. The name of your ex-girlfriend - ex-fiancee - had been something which only really existed in your mind at the time. Known, of course, to the friends you’d left back home; friends who had loved her, loved the two of you together. But soured by the reaction of your extended family, the people who had voiced their disgust at who you'd loved, who had been so quick to turn their backs in the face of your happiness, the first you’d found since your dad’s passing. It had made your stomach twist. 

You’d been worried about Frankie’s reaction, couldn’t bear to think of the first friend you’d made - your neighbour - having the same look of distaste - or worse - intense curiosity. 

But he’d done neither of those things. Had marked it with a quiet oh before asking what she was like, where she was, what had happened. You’d told him how you met in college but weren’t brave enough to ask her out until after graduation. How she was an engineer on the east coast - kind and funny and eager to watch you succeed. 

You’d been sparing with the details about how it ended. The breakup had still been a raw nerve, something you had no real desire to discuss. Something which you only found to be the case more and more the longer you spent around Frankie. And then he gave you further reason to be less afraid of what he’d think, whether he had the want to judge.

‘Sounds like my ex,’ he’d said, ‘We were friends first, too. Benny.’

You’re snapped back to the present by Frankie rustling around in the cooler.

‘Have something to eat,’ he says, ‘You’re looking a little shaky.’

You’ve been asleep for most of the way home. 

Hair blowing in the wind of the journey, cheek pressed against your shoulder. You look so peaceful, so beautiful, and something about this - the three of you in Frankie’s truck, Lucia babbling to herself in the back - feels so right.

He’s loathe to wake you. Wishes he could bottle this moment; the sand still clinging to your skin, Luc’s bright smile in the rearview mirror, but you stir all the same when he slows and pulls into his driveway. 

You stretch your arms and yawn, smiling sleepily at him before twisting to look back at Lucia.

‘How you doing, bean?’ You ask.

‘You were asleep!’ She chirps back, and Frankie chuckles.

‘Sure was,’ you grin, ‘Can’t keep up with you.’

You insist on carrying the cooler into his house while Frankie unbuckles her. He holds her hand around the side of the car before she pulls free of him, clattering into the house after you in her sparkling sandals. She passes him in the hall, arms full of toys as she speeds back out to the grass out front, and you smirk at him around the doorway of the kitchen. He shakes his head at you.

‘I don’t know how she does it.’ He says. You grin.

‘She’s four. Give her a few more years.’

He chuckles as he swoops in behind you, pinning your body between his and the counter. He digs in the cooler as you close your eyes against his body heat.

‘Want a beer?’ He says against your neck before pulling away.

‘Thought you’d never ask.’

When you’re settled on his porch, Lucia mimicking the sounds of the dinosaurs she has splayed across the lawn, Frankie bumps your shoulder.

‘You should have asked for her number.’ He grins. You turn to him, still a little sleepy.

‘Whose?’

‘The woman. On the beach.’

You roll your eyes at him despite the heat rising in your cheeks.

‘They’ll get stuck like that, you know.’ He says.

You nudge him back, a little harder.

‘You should’ve asked,’ you chuckle. ‘Gets all her looks from me.’

He snorts.

‘Nah. I wasn’t even on the field. Think you mean her mama.’

‘Should have given her the old I’m the babysitter line.’

He laughs. 

‘God. Imagine. Maybe that’s what I’ll have to tell the guys the next time they ask if I’m seeing someone.’

Your blood heats, a soft pounding in your ears. Imagine. Imagine.

You roll your head on your shoulders.

‘Are you?’ you ask tentatively, ‘Seeing anyone, I mean.’

Frankie shrugs beside you like it’s no big deal.

‘No,’ he says, ‘I kind of… swore that all off after Benny. Didn’t wanna go through it all again. Wasn’t good for me, wasn’t good for her,’ he says, gesturing towards where Lucia is playing on the grass. He’s quiet for a moment. ‘Just don’t think I’m cut out for it. Getting my heart broken again.’

You know how it ended - before it had really begun. A tentative feeling between friends; Frankie falling hard, Benny unsure about the new step. Caught up with the nerves you remember so well in the new turn of discovering himself, scared by the ripples caused within the tight knot of their group of friends. It had been hard on Frankie. Not made difficult by his brothers in arms, who, to all intents and purposes, had seen it coming - but because he was so clearly a man who loved hard. With all the goodness in his heart. It’s obvious in how he talks about him now, in how he talks about Lucia's mother. Love that lingers, that still sees the light.

You watch him as he speaks. The soft sunlight illuminating his curls, turning them golden, chocolate brown, little streaks of grey peaking through. His eyes are bright and flecked with hazel, his lips soft and full. When he talks, they are shaped with sound, with emotion. Expressive and beautiful, moving with the crinkles at his eyes, the frown lines on his forehead. Something pulls in your chest, and you reach out to hold his wrist just above his beer bottle. He squeezes your hand with his free one, and turns to look at you. So soft, so warm, eyes so kind and yet so sad sometimes it takes your breath away.

You can’t ever imagine breaking Frankie’s heart.

He licks his lips, eyes flitting to your parted mouth before resting back on yours.

‘Are you?’ He asks.

You breathe a laugh, something breathless in the sound. You retract your hand and look away from him, back to Lucia, watching her toddle around with her dinosaurs. He studies you, and it makes something spike at the back of your throat. You hate when he gets you like this; like he can see you better than anyone else ever has. 

‘No,’ you say. When you look back at him, his brows curve in a furrow at the sight of your sparkling eyes. You offer him a small smile, take a deep breath. ‘Think I’m the same as you,’ you shrug, ‘Not built to get my heart broken again.’

Frankie dares an arm across your back, squeezing the shoulder furthest away from him. He pulls you into his chest, palm pressing your bicep in comforting sweeps.

‘I’m sorry.’ He says into your hair.

‘Don’t be,’ you reassure him, ‘I’m not - cut up about it like I was.’ You sniff and pull away from him a little to look in his eyes. ‘It just stays with you, like you said before. The hurt and the shock. Everything you had planned. I think it’s just… hard to remember you won’t have that. Hard to not have that future, hard to feel like you’re enough again.’ You smile softly, and he answers with his own. He knows, he understands. ‘Just… really thought I was gonna marry her,’ you whisper, looking down at your hands. ‘Day I asked her, every time I saw that ring on her finger, thought we were gonna spend the rest of our lives together. And it made me so… happy.’ Frankie swallows thickly beside you. The feeling of it, of what you’re telling him, so painful, so raw for both of you. ‘And when it happened, when it fell apart… it wasn’t big. She just told me - real kind, real patient about it - that she didn’t love me anymore.’ Frankie breathes deeply when he hears the catch in your voice, the sting of it. 

Your eyes are on Lucia, but you’re so far away that it worries him. He wants you here, safe, having beers with him on his porch, giggling on the steps.

He can’t ever imagine breaking your heart.

You quirk your head, sighing. ‘Spent a long time tryna figure out what I did wrong, but there was never an answer,’ you shrug. ‘I’m glad she ended it, though. Despite it all. I’d have never forgiven her if she’d stayed.’

A strained hum pulls itself from Frankie’s throat as he watches you lean forward to pick at the grass by your feet. He clears his throat, studies your profile carefully.

‘Do you still love her?’ He asks, voice low and hoarse. He finds, to his surprise, that he’s terrified of the answer.

You frown, slowing your pulling.

‘No,’ you say. ‘I have love for her, but we don’t speak. I don’t want her in my life, but I wish her the best. I just found it… hard to rebuild.’

He thinks back to the day you moved in next door, the bright smile that he hadn’t realised didn’t quite reach your eyes, how you’d been a little thinner, looked so tired. How you’ve changed over the year since, so warm, so full of love and light and energy. How you tear around the lawn with Lucia, how you laugh at his kitchen table, how you fit into his side when you’re watching movies. 

Something swoops in his gut, something so huge and unbalancing that his breath comes shallow, that his ears buzz and his vision blurs. A feeling that makes so much - too much - sense.

Fuck.

He swallows, closes his eyes.

When he turns to look at you again, it’s with a heart that knows - really knows. He sees everything you are, everything you’ve been, everything you will be. Knows you for all your good days and bad days, has seen you at all hours, could hold every piece of your fractured heart in his hands and meld it back together again if you let him.

Your eyes find his. He watches your brows raise a fraction at his expression, watches them push together in a question. 

His mouth is dry, but he speaks.

‘You are,’ he says, ‘You are enough.’

Your eyes don’t leave his.There’s a pressure behind them, a pull in your gut, a skip of your heart. Something on the tip of your tongue. 

Frankie’s eyes slip to your mouth. Your breath catches in your throat, and the world stills. The sounds of the evening, Lucia playing, fade to almost nothing.

If you tip your head, you think he might kiss you. 

A small, wild ball of energy crashes into Frankie’s chest, and the moment slips through your fingers. Frankie lets out a quiet oof, wrapping his arms around his daughter. A giggle bubbles out of your mouth, and he grins at you, but his eyes linger. Lucia turns her tiny face up to him, and Frankie rolls his eyes goodnaturedly.

‘Whaddya want, mija?’

‘Strawberry laces.’ She whispers, and you both laugh.

‘Strawberry laces, what?’

‘Strawberry laces, please, Papi.’

‘Alright,’ he says, shifting her out of the clutch of his arms and onto the step beside you, ‘Sit tight, mi amor. I’ll be back in a minute.’

The front door isn’t even closed behind him before Lucia is crawling her way into your lap, wrapping her arms around you. You tuck your hands against her back, pulling away to look at her.

‘How’s it going, mini Morales?’

She beams up at you.

‘Good. The bugs are winning.’

‘Winning? Against who?’

‘The dinosaurs.’ She says, gravely. You nod, just as serious, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

‘That’s good. Bugs have a lot going for them.’

She leans back to consider you for a moment, her face scrunching up in the low lying sun.

‘Miss Lopez called you Mrs Morales the other day,’ she says, ‘Does that mean you and Papi are married now?’

Your heart lurches in your chest, head spinning a little. You laugh, disbelieving. From the mouths of babes.

‘No, baby,’ you say softly, and her face falls. 

‘Why not?’

You can feel your heartbeat in your toes. You pray Frankie is struggling to find those strawberry laces.

‘We’re - we’re just friends, Luc. People who get married are usually a bit more than friends.’

Lucia frowns.

‘But you are more than friends,’ she insists, ‘You’re best friends. And you love each other.’

Jesus Christ. You squeak out a hm, trying to remain noncommittal. Lucia begins to fiddle with the charm on your necklace.

‘How do you get married?’

‘Well,’ you swallow, ‘Usually you have a big party. With lots of friends and family there. And you have to ask each other first.’

‘Have you been married?’

You wince. How is she doing it?

‘No, bean. I haven’t.’

She nods, thoughtful.

‘Neither has Papi. He could ask you.’ 

You choke out a laugh. Frankie’s eyes on yours, on your mouth. The moment caught in time.

Idle thoughts.

‘He could. But I don’t think he wants to.’

Her wide, brown eyes shoot to yours, hands stilling on the chain of your necklace. A feeling creeps up the back of your neck.

‘He does,’ she says quietly. ‘You’re his favourite person, apart from me. He told me s- Papi!’

She cuts herself off in an excitable screech, and you scrunch your face at it. Luc is wriggling in your lap, lips open wide in a toothy grin. Her hands reach out in fists as Frankie rounds your shoulder, the plastic packet of strawberry laces crinkling in his hand. 

‘Open your hand,’ he says, and Lucia obeys, her fists flattening to palms face up. Frankie drops a small handful of the sweets onto them, and she dances on top of your thighs, shoving two in her mouth at once so she can chew them up like snakes disappearing between her teeth.

She flashes you another grin, red blended with white, and wriggles backwards, running off back to her dinosaurs. 

Frankie settles next to you again, offering you the packet. You take it, fingers scrabbling for sugar as the two of you watch her. For a second, it’s like you’re a family. Like you can feel the weight of a ring on your finger, a ring that was supposed to be there some time in the last six months. You shake your head. A silly thought.

Frankie licks his fingers beside you, and you turn to watch him. The sound of the pop as he releases them from his mouth, the smile that dances across his lips as he watches Lucia, the crows feet at the corners of his eyes. An involuntary smile crawls across your own lips.

‘Got another favour you can do for me,’ you say, still chewing. 

‘Hm?’

‘Sink’s a little leaky. Think you can take a look?’

You hold the packet of strawberry laces out to him, and he takes one, lowering it into his mouth. You giggle at the way his tongue curls around it. He grins back at you.

‘Sure can, baby. Luc is at a sleepover Friday night. That work for you?’

‘I think it might, Morales. I think it might.’

[notjustjavierpena]

Sucía: Part II - Hungover

Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Finally, a follow-up to Birthday Girl. So sorry about the wait. ALSO BE NICE TO ME SINCE I HAVEN’T WRITTEN ASSPLAY BEFORE! Can be read alone

Summary: You meet Javier again but this time, you are  hungover in a corner store and with sunglasses on inside.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, mention of f masturbation, javi is a flirt, reader is hungover and later tipsy, use of papi/daddy, alcohol consumption, classic booty call, flirty banter, dirty talk, kissing, dom/sub dynamics, blowjob, verbal humiliation, face-fucking, deepthroating, clit stim, doggy style but add a police grip, unprotected p in v sex, rough sex, spanking, assplay, anal fingering, creampie, overstim, pussy eating, come eating, bit of subdrop, aftercare cuddles

Word count: 4.8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48859147/chapters/123256180

Hungover

The hangover is worse than you thought it would be. It makes noises seem overwhelming to your ears, which had been fine listening to booming club music the night before, and fluorescent lights prickle at your eyes, so much so that you decide to wear sunglasses as you walk down to the corner store near your apartment building. You have the shakes, the fatigue, the savory cravings. 

But you also have the dull ache of getting harshly fucked between your legs. The memory is hardly foggy because you can’t stop thinking about it, the underlying roughness beneath Javier’s surface, and how you have spent the day in bed with your hand in your panties to try to reach even a shred of the same excitement you felt when he had you.

You reach the cooler with Arizona iced teas and rest the bottle that you pick out against your forehead. It soothes slightly. With your other hand, you find a bag of chips that you normally find disgusting. 

As you contemplate making a dip, you suddenly get the feeling of someone watching you. At first, you try to shake it but when it gets more intense, you whirl around and nearly bump into—

“Javier?” With the chips bag between your fingers, you use your index finger and thumb to peel your sunglasses off. 

“Oh, so it is you,” he gives you a once over with his eyes, raising a brow at, but not commenting on, your appearance; messy bun and gray sweatpants with an unflattering word in rhinestones across your ass. Instead, he smirks, “Bad hangover?”

“You could say that,” you say, a little embarrassed. After all, who you are in the nightlife is hardly who you are in real life, “I think I overdid it a little last night.”

“But you remember?” Javier takes a step towards you, seems unaware of doing it, and your pulse immediately spikes. 

“How could I forget?” You are not in the right attire for flirting but Javier looks pleased and relieved, even slightly amused, eyes traveling down your body as if he is trying to imagine what the baggy pants are hiding. 

“I wouldn’t want you to,” he states and suddenly starts walking towards the counter. You find yourself following him without any question. 

You swallow, trying to change the subject in case it gets too heated for public ears to hear, “What are you getting?” 

“I was just getting some cigarettes but now I’m getting a number too, aren’t I?” He gestures to the countertop and you place your chips and iced tea on it. 

“Perhaps.”

“And a pack of cigarettes,” Javier says to the cashier, a young teenager with curious eyes as he observes your interaction. Javier points to the brand that he likes and it’s added to the mix. 

“I—“ you protest. 

Javier holds up a hand and pays without a word. He rests a hand on the counter as he speaks to the teenager who is in awe by now, “You have a pen, kid?”

The cashier quickly retrieves one from underneath the counter. He hands it to Javier who turns to you, reaches out for your wrist, which burns with excitement as he touches it, and scribbles his number on your arm, “There.”

“How do you know I’ll call you?” You challenge as you pick up your things. 

“I’m pretty confident,” he shrugs, “I make an impression, I’ve been told.”

His smugness is hot and nauseating at the same time. You hit him with a line that you know only he knows the true meaning of, shoving the pack of cigarettes into your pockets too without giving him time to protest.

“Thanks, Papi,” you start heading for the door. 

Javier chuckles in disbelief. 

“Wow,” the cashier says as you leave, and despite having your back turned, you can picture him gaping at Javier who is watching you leave, “Dude, teach me your ways.”

—

You call Javier a week later. It’s in the middle of the night, you’ve been out once again, Hannah’s orders, and you don’t want to go home to your empty apartment. You aren’t drunk except for that your voice is a little louder than usual as you speak into the pay phone outside the club. 

“Are you home?” You ask.

“Are you drunk?” He interrogates.

“Just tipsy,” you reassure, confident, “Give me your address. I’ll come by… unless you’re busy.”

“I’m not.”

“Then give me your address,” you push. If you don’t get him out of your system soon, you think you might lose your mind, and what better way than to fuck it out? You sigh animatedly, try to make it sound so he can practically hear the way you are batting your lashes, “Please, Daddy.” 

“Jesus, you’re filthy,” he breathes on the other end of the line, and then gives in, “Fine, I’ll tell you my address.”

You tell it to a cab driver a moment later and soon, you are knocking on Javier’s door at three in the morning for a so-called booty call. 

He opens the door in nothing but his jeans. 

“Still dressed?” You question, “Thought I had woken you up.”

“Working,” he explains, throwing his head in the direction of his dining table. It is filled with paperwork, case files, and other documents.

“Ah,” you step through to the living room, having left your heels by the door that Javier closes behind you. 

“Whiskey?” He asks when he joins you, grabbing your elbow to get your attention and causing electricity to course through your body. You smile at him and nod, engaging in unnecessary formalities; you know that he knows you’re just here to fuck.

“If you don’t have anything else,” you tease.

When Javier serves you a glass a minute later, you knock the shot back a little too expertly but still grimace at the burn from the liquor. Javier snorts at the sight, shaking the bottle gently, “More?”

You shake your head, “You actually like that stuff?” 

“Smart mouth,” he sighs.

“Last time, you had music to drown me out,” you smirk, leaning back into your seat and feeling the warmth of the whiskey starting to spread through your body. You run a hand through your hair, “Look, you wanna fuck or drink your whiskey?”

It is nowhere near normal for you to be this bold but the warm buzz of the whiskey has made you brave like you were on the dance floor. You blink prettily at him, and he responds by placing the bottle on the glass table without making too much noise. 

“Oh, you’re a dirty one, aren’t you?” Javier’s voice has dropped to a lower pitch, and your whole core is aching for him to touch you like you know he can, “Thought you were just putting on a show for me at the club but you’re really dirty.”

“I can show you if you let me,” you say confidently but still try to compose yourself as he inches closer to you. You can see that he wants to kiss you like he did a week before, and you decide to be the one who initiates it. 

It feels different this time because his body is more exposed, showing the faint hairs scattered across his chest and the shape of his shoulders that had only been left to imagination last time and thus become a fantasy as you lay in your bed at home with two fingers inside of yourself. You grab onto them, digging your fingers into the golden skin, and moan into the kiss. His mouth is open against yours, broad hands on your waist and lower back, and he moves you a step backward every other second. 

Soon, your lips are swollen from kisses but they are not being kissed anymore. Instead, Javier has moved down to your jaw and throat, both parts stinging slightly from his mustache having scratched you. However, he soothes you with the warmth of his tongue and all is forgiven because you are so wet that you cannot think straight.  It has been a while since you have met a man who has kept you quite on your toes like he does. 

You eventually reach the bedroom, dimly lit like he knows how to make it inviting for sex. The nightstand sports several stacks of books but as curious as you are about your suitor, you focus on the bed instead. It looks like the sheets will envelop you in his scent. It is too much of an opportunity to pass up and makes you break free from his arms. The alcohol in your blood persuades you to crawl into his bed without hesitation, feeling the cotton bedding underneath your skin. 

You were right. The bed smells like him; like a mix between sleep and cologne, and it is so masculine that you turn onto your back to stare up at him with the best impression of a siren’s hazy gaze. You slide the straps of your dress off your shoulders, revealing no bra underneath it when your tits spill out as soon as you pull the front of the dress down. Javier stares without any hesitation or shame. 

“C’mere, crawl to me,” he stands by the foot of the bed, making no indication that he is going to join you. You follow his command, getting up on all fours and making your way towards the edge. The dress sits around your waist. He grins down at you, “Oh, you’re a special girl, aren’t you? Look at you doing what you’re told.”

You blink up at him, eyelashes fluttering as you reach out for his belt. He hardens underneath the denim whilst you work the buckle, and the clink of the metal causes a rush of arousal to your lower body. 

When you undo his zipper, his stomach jumps underneath no touch. He breathes deeply in through his nose, “Can’t control myself. I haven’t stopped thinking about your mouth taking my dick last weekend.” 

You tug his jeans down, realizing that he has gone commando underneath. It doesn’t surprise you though, just makes you stare up at him completely wide-eyed but mostly for show. He chuckles when you gape down at his cock which has now sprung free. He seems to notice it is an act and decides to play along, “Took it so well too. Think you can repeat the success, bebita (baby)?”

You nod and then lower your head whilst still looking up at him through your lashes. He waits politely above you, arms along his sides, but shows his impatience with the way his hand twitches slightly when you breathe onto his length. 

You waste no time teasing him, wanting to show him that your talent for sucking cock is not just a skill he had imagined last time, not just a result of having been drunk on being edged by fucking your pussy open. 

You wrap your lips around the girthy head and suck as you pull off until you earn a guttural growl from him. His mouth goes slack when you engulf him in your warmth again, bobbing your head and pulling your soft lips along the shaft over and over again. A hand rests on your head.

“That’s it,” he praises and tries to keep his hips still, his hand tensing up on top of your head in a way that tells you that he is holding back from pushing forward just yet, “Recuerdo que eres sucía (I remember that you’re filthy). Suck that cock, Princesa (princess), like a whore.”

You let saliva gather in your mouth until it sounds obscene when you take more of his cock into your mouth, fitting your hand around what you cannot fit past your kiss-swollen lips. The head bumps against the back of your mouth and causes a wet gag. Javier lets out a sharp sigh of pleasure. You repeat the move until your throat squeezes around him and his fingers tangle into your hair. 

“Fuck, that’s a good girl,” he murmurs above you. Your eyes travel up his body to stare at his face, just to get a glimpse before another choke on his dick will blur your vision with tears. His eyes are closed, a crease between his brows telling you that he is concentrating on the pleasure you are giving him. 

You hum as you suck him harder, cheeks hollowed and lips stretched. There’s a determination to hear him growl like he did before since it made your pussy clench around nothing. He’ll find out the state of your panties soon enough, and you hope he’ll know that it’s the result of greedily sucking him off. 

Javier’s eyes open carefully and his fingers tighten their grip hard enough to hurt your sensitive follicles when you make eye contact. He pulses in your mouth when you smirk around him, spit dribbling down your chin from how much effort you are putting into drooling on his dick.

Whenever his breathing pattern changes, you squeeze around the base of his cock to calm his excitement down again. He gets impatient and thrusts his hips forward, the tip of his dick sliding into the tightest space of your throat. It makes you bury your nose in the hair at the base of his cock, your hand falling down into your lap when it has no more to hold. 

Tears spring from your eyes but you don’t falter. Instead, you moan pornographically to tell him it is okay, and Javier takes the opportunity to fuck your mouth until his cock is wet from both your spit and your tears. 

To steady yourself, you reach up and place a hand on his lower belly. You scratch with your nails, meeting the snaps of his lower body with a tell of experience. 

“You’re a little slut,” he groans, “I can tell you suck dick on the regular. How many have had you like this? Because I know I’m not the first.” 

You gag on him instead of giving any indication of an answer. He chuckles breathlessly and stills his hips to guide you with the hand in your hair instead, creating a makeshift ponytail to force you onto his dick. You take whatever he wants to give you, pussy so touch-starved that it makes your head spin. 

“S-stop,” he eventually moans and loosens his grip but still cannot make himself pull out of your tight wet throat, “Pull off, I— shit, baby, you almost made me come.”

You do as you are told. An obscene string of saliva connects between your mouth and the tip of his dick, and he uses a thumb to sever it by trailing the digit across your swollen bottom lip. He smiles affectionately when you suck the finger into your mouth, “Want this messy thumb on your clit, huh?” 

You nod with his finger still in your mouth. Slick arousal has started to spill through your underwear, smearing your inner thighs with how much giving him a blowjob has made you gush. You pull away, his thumb slipping from your mouth making a popping sound. 

“Legs up, come on now,” he guides after you have completely rid yourself of your dress. You lay back and scoot to the very edge of the bed. Then you try to hook your legs over his hips, but he grabs your ankles one by one to rest your feet against his front, stretching your limbs high into the air.

He makes a self-satisfied face when he guides his wet thumb underneath the fabric of your underwear to find that he had never even needed your spit; you are drenched and waiting. He scoops some of your wetness onto his thumb and then presses down on your clit, seeming to remember just where it is from last time. He swirls the digit on the swollen nub, “Right there?”

You whimper and nod. Your toes curl, “Sí (yes), Papí. Don’t stop.”

“You can still talk after getting throat-fucked like that?” He taunts but doesn’t make any indication that he’ll tease or edge you. No, he seems determined to have you remember how good he is in bed and he reminds you of it by giving your clit the attention it needs. He swirls his thumb, goes from side to side, and up and down until your voice starts growing in pitch. 

He listens, really listens, and observes your reactions to what he does and with each beat of your heart, you gush a little more slick onto the sheets. Only a minute later, you have an earth-shattering clit-orgasm that has your brows furrowed and your eyes screwed shut. 

“Fuck me,” you beg during your high but he shakes his head, and you nearly decide to lose it. Though the eyes he gives you make you unable to protest. That gaze makes it seem like you’ll take anything he says as gospel, even when your walls are spasming around nothing. He knows better, there’s no doubt about it. You await his next move, head falling back on the mattress and with big eyes fixated on the way he towers over your smaller frame. 

“Turn around,” he eventually decides, “Crawl back on the bed.”

You follow orders in your post-orgasmic state, blood rushing in your ears so you cannot be sure if you actually hear him chuckle at your shaking legs when you try crawling to the middle of the bed. You pose on your hands and knees in the sexiest manner you can manage, awaiting his cock with an obedient and desperate cunt in the air. 

Whatever your brain cannot process in your pleasurable haze, you must feel instead, and behind you, Javier’s weight makes the mattress dip beneath the both of you. He has knelt behind you and you whimper as his strong, broad palms settle on your hips to pull them into the height that he needs them to be.

“Gimme your hands,” he commands but you cannot register it fast enough when you feel so empty and weak from not being fucked, so he yanks your arms behind your back one at a time without warning. You plant your face right into the sheets with a whine that’s muffled by the fabric until you think to turn your head to the side. This time, you are sure about the fact that he is laughing darkly at you. 

You realize he has you in a police grip, able to do whatever he wants and you realize that he wants to fuck you raw, no piece of rubber between you. This doesn’t bother you one bit tonight.

He only lets go of your wrists to guide his cock inside of your quivering body with one hand, then holds onto your arms again with both when your warm and soft heat engulfs him. 

“Listen, bebita (baby). It’s like three in the morning and the neighbors are asleep,” he tells you and you don’t think you could ever stay quiet when he is so big inside of you. You are just about to say something but then he surprises you by finishing his sentence, “Do you understand? I’m gonna need you to scream for me.”

Oh. 

“Sí (yes), Papi,” you groan as you still try to adjust to his girth, not quite remembering that his dick had felt this huge inside of you the last time you were together. He settles deep inside of you, fills you out until you cannot take any more of him, and then pounds you.  

“Bet they’re all over you when you’re out playing a little tease in the club. I was,” he muses as he fucks you hard enough to make the bed rattle underneath you, fingers denting the delicate skin of your wrists. The headboard has already started to repeatedly bang against the wall and the sudden halts to each movement of the furniture make his thrusts painful, “Bet they wanna touch and fuck you like I get to. You know how much you make men think about sex, don’t you?”

“Javi,” you pant as he continues, not able to do much more than take it and feel the heat pool between your thighs. You are soaking wet around him, lewd noises of your stretched-out cunt sucking him in filling the room each time he goes deep enough to have you see God. 

“Can’t say anything else, can you? Fucked stupid, is that it?” He moans when you shake and nod your head, mind too foggy to figure out which move is the right one when you have gotten two questions in a row. You can only think of his huge cock driving brutally into you, “You weren’t like this last time but we weren’t— ah, fuck. We weren’t in private last time, were we?”

This time you know to shake your head. You want to come, God, you are going to soon. 

“But now I have you all to myself and I get to show this gorgeous pussy who’s boss, fuck the brat out of her,” he lets go with one hand to smack your ass harshly and groans when you squeeze around his length in surprise, a yelp tearing itself from your throat, “You like that? Make it hurt, wasn’t that what you said?”

“Yes, please,” you finally manage a coherent word that isn’t his name. The knot in your belly is starting to tighten and his rapid movements are starting to make your body respond by building up a high, “Yes, I do, don’t stop! You— you’re gonna make me come, Papi.”

He growls and seeks his own satisfaction and pleasure, knowing that he won’t need to do anything else to make you come again other than fucking against your g-spot whilst his heavy balls slap against your clit. In response, all you can do is drool and lie in it, his harsh rhythm forcing the air out of your lungs in high cries with every crash of his hips into you. 

“What more do you like?” He smacks your ass again, faltering for less than a second as he gets an idea, “Eres una chica sucía, ¿te gusta un dedo en el culo (You’re a dirty girl, you like a finger in your ass)?”

You rub your forehead against the sheets when you nod frantically. Behind you, Javier stops talking but only to obscenely spit down the cleft of your ass and use his thumb to smear it over the ring of muscle there. 

You gasp and whimper, pushing back into the touch. 

“Whore,” he pants and adds pressure to your hole. 

“Want it, Daddy,” you beg softly. 

He eases the digit inside of you and your eyes roll back into your skull when he adds a whole new sensation to getting fucked by him. He can��t contain himself at the sight of his finger disappearing into your ass over and over, “I know you do. So fucking take it.”

The pressure inside of you from two places becomes too much. You get one more breath in before pleasure erupts from your sensitive pussy and you come hard with a cry loud enough to make your voice crack. Javier swears loudly behind you when your walls choke his cock and your untouched clit pulses in interest too at feeling something so powerful. 

“Come in me, Javi,” you cry as he fucks you through your overstimulation. Your skin is slick with sweat, glistening as it beads along your spine and settles into the dip in your arched back. 

“Say please, Princesa (princess),” he breathes rapidly, trying to hold back until you have done what he says. 

“Please,” you sob, “Pleasepleaseplease.”

“Good girl,” he praises and gives you only a few thrusts more. He comes inside of you with a grunt, stilling his hips whilst his cock twitches as it shoots and pulses inside of you. It is enough to make it drip out of you already, creating a ring around his dick that lazily starts sliding in and out of your abused hole to milk the very last drops from the tip. 

You fall flat on your front the second he pulls out. Nothing else exists except your fucked-out body, nerves tingling with electricity at how hard you have felt ecstatic pleasure tonight. You want to giggle or sob or giggle and sob but your eyelids feel so heavy. 

“You okay?” Javier asks from behind you. He has crawled forward to hover over you, placing a kiss on your shoulder, “Pussy took a pounding.”

“‘M fine,” you mutter with a little sigh as Javier’s lips leave kisses in their wake as he moves down your used, trembling body. He rubs your aching thighs.

“Should apologize to her,” he mumbles and places a kiss on the small of your back. You whimper in reply, pulling your arms forward to bury your spinning head in them and relish in the softness that he gives you. 

However, that softness has ulterior motives because soon, he is tilting your hips a little. He is still trailing his tongue over your lower back, through the sweat that has pooled there and then further down over your puckered hole. He ends with his mouth between your folds, hands that had been soothing your legs now curling around your thighs to pull them slightly apart so he can eat the dribble of come right from your freshly-fucked pussy. 

“I can’t,” you groan even if it’s soothing to feel his soft tongue inside of you. 

“Yes,” he slurps loudly and scoops more out of you, going down to lap on your clit. Between tortuous sucks that are strong enough to hollow his cheeks, he talks softly, “Just take it, bebita (baby). Let me make you feel better. You took it so well.”

A third high burns deep below your belly button but he builds it slower than when he had had his thumb on your clit by switching between eating from your seam and teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue. 

“Javi,” you feel stupid for having said his name so many times tonight without following it up with anything else but he seems to understand what each enunciation of his name means. 

“I know,” he coos and bobs his head a little, “I’m almost done, just a little more.”

When you are clean of any remnants of his spill, he works towards your orgasm whilst you cry feebly. He sucks at your clit with gentle enthusiasm, coaxing your exhausted body to reach its climax once again not long after. Tears spring from your eyes as pleasure is forced to flow through your cunt again, rapid clenching around nothing making your hips stutter as you think you might gush enough to ruin the mattress. 

Javier pulls away as soon as you come down, moving to lie down beside you and give you the space that you need. You cry in your overwhelmed state but it’s only silent tears that slide down over your nose and cheek. 

He tuts and coos, “Nena (Babygirl).”

That nickname makes you cry louder. 

“Do you need help getting onto your back?” He asks carefully. You nod and without hesitation, he helps you move your body around until you are on your back, staring up at the ceiling. 

“I’m sorry,” you feel embarrassed but unable to control your emotions.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks. You nod again. 

He reaches to turn your head towards himself, cupping your cheek carefully and using his thumb to brush a tear away. You hold onto his wrist as he kisses you. 

“No more tears,” he tells you with a soft smile and strokes your cheek in such a gentle manner that you cannot help but give him a little smile of your own in return, “You were so good.” 

“Thank you,” you say with a fluttering heart, mascara burning underneath your eyes. 

“Let me get you a glass of water,” he pecks your lips a few times more but when he tries to pull away, you whine like a child not getting their way. He says your time but then lets you crawl to him. He hugs you close, draping your leg over his hip, and coos soft praises until you fall asleep. 

“I have work in the morning,” he mumbles into your hair, but then why does he still let you sleep in his arms all through the night? 

You wake up to aspirin and water. You take it and gulp down the whole glass, only briefly waking up again when he crawls into bed with you late in the evening to hold you close once more.

“I’ll order some food,” he tells you while repeatedly kissing your still bare body.

“Okay,” you say and fall asleep again. 

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[bvnniz]

Heyy!! Could i request Vox x Bunny x Val>_< if u dont mind you dont have to do thiss butt what if vam or vox were abt to eat bunny out and see she has sh scars on her innert high. What would they do? Would they care or ignore it

so do we all love bunny x voxval as much as me ??? ( i will literally do any voxval x bunny req )

𝜗𝜚 warnings: SMUT mentions, 18+, self harm, vox is referred to as daddy, then valentino as papi, comfort

“ughhhhh are you guys done with paperwork yet!” you groaned as you shifted your body so you were laying across the two rather than sitting on valentino’s lap. valentino lets out a chuckle “little conejita need attention?” you just rolled your eyes, staring up at vox who was the one who would usually give you anything you wanted when you stared up at him with those doe eyes of yours, he always said you didn’t need hypnotism like him or valentino’s smoke to get your way, your eyes were your own hypnotism.

“daddyyyyyy” valentino shook his head before pushing your legs off of him, you immediately moved to sit on vox’s lap grinding yourself down on his thigh. “pleaseee.” he put his paperwork to the side before sighing. “give me one good reason.”

you thought for a second before smiling “because i’m wearing a cute skirt with tights under and papi always says my skirts look even cuter on the ground and that you both love ripping holes in my tights” vox smiled at you before shaking his head. “you’re not wrong princess.”

valentino smiled, knowing full well you had won. “c’mere baby.” you got off vox’s lap and immediately stood in front of valentino. “such a pretty little conejita.” he kissed your head before picking you up and putting you over his shoulder, walking towards the shared bedroom, smacking your ass on the way which made a giggle come out of you.

vox had followed behind the two of you, mostly worried about the fact valentino has dropped you before due to carrying you like this and he wasn’t planning on getting yelled at by you during the fit you would have if you were dropped.

valentino tossed you on the bed, a giggle coming out of you as you bounced up. vox shook his head while letting out a chuckle. “someone’s in a really good mood today.” he kissed your head before sitting behind you and starting to pull your tights off of you, your clear sign that it was gonna be a long night.

valentino immediately placed himself between your thighs, kissing from your knee up. although he halted when he got to your upper thighs. you immediately realizing what you forgot about and pulling your legs under yourself so you were sitting on them. “conejita.” you turned to vox trying to climb onto his lap, terrified of the look valentino was giving you, it was the look you had only seen from him with his workers.

he grabbed your foot pulling you back towards him. “vox.” he had just been staring at the two of you confused, before moving from behind you and looking at what valentino had been staring at, that’s when he saw it, cuts littered around your inner thighs, some old but some that couldn’t be older than a couple days.

“princess” vox said softly, his heart practically being ripped out as he tried counting how many cuts there were. he looked at your face seeing those doe eyes he loved so much practically pouring tears out.

he pulled you off the bed before kneeling to your height and pulling you into a hug. “we’re not mad at you princess, i promise you.” he held his pinky out to you, you immediately wrapping your own around his. “i’m not gonna make you talk about it now, but we are gonna need a discussion about this, if it’s either with me or papi. does that sound fair so far?” you nodded “yes daddy.”

“along with this all we’re gonna start checking on you making sure there’s no cuts on your body daily, the ones currently there we’re gonna be fine with but if there’s any new tomorrow we’re gonna have to stop giving you so much freedom, you’ll probably be with daddy or me more often, if that isn’t fair to you, you can say so, okay princesa?” valentino’s face had softened him giving you a smile to try and calm you down.

“no papi.” both of their eyes widened, usually you always said yes to what they said, it wasn’t that you couldn’t think or live for yourself but you preferred that way of them telling you how your life would go.

“what don’t you like princesa?” he asked pulling your head off of vox so you had to look at him “wanna be with you more.” he nodded, finally crouching down to your height. “freedom too much for you conejita? you upset you don’t have enough time with daddy & papi?” you nodded again, vox holding you a little tighter at that. “is it you don’t have enough time with papi or me, princess?” you shook your head. “tell me what you need princess, i need you to use your words.”

“just wanna be with daddy or papi always.” he nodded before kissing your head. “how about every other day you come to my office then the days you aren’t with me you’re at the studio?” you nodded and vox smiled down at you. “you’re still gonna get checked tho, we gotta make sure our little princess is safe and unharmed at all times.”

[happy-xy]

Omar Apollo Q with Tom Power (September 2024)

[trippinsorrows]

How would Solana initiate sexy time with her husband? 🤭 cause we already know Roman has no problem doing it, and he's not afraid of coming out too strong 🥵 in the best way.... but what about my girl, once she gets the groove of things and plans on seducing him

roman knows his wife. knows her well. like the back of his hand. that's why he knows exactly what she wants before she even asks.

he's in his office, sitting at his desk when she walks in, wearing one of those fucking short, skimpy dresses that leaves nothing to the imagination. he loves them on her, but he loves them even more off her.

she gives him a small smile. "got the girls down."

it's a bit of a trial run they're doing. seeing if they can alternate bedtime duties, as lina and leya have fallen into a routine of wanting both of them present before falling asleep.

which is fine, except for when roman has to be out of town for business. or even when he can't make it home until late. thus, them trying out this new solo turn taking endeavor.

"how were they?"

she closes the door behind her, roman noticing the way she locks it as well. "lina was okayish. leya was the hardest."

he nods. makes sense. leya is the more sentimental of the two. sensitive, almost. she required a higher level of assurance than her sister.

"but they're sleep?"

solana nods, making her way over to him, her steps slow, almost hesitant, as if she's waiting for him to send her way.

like that would ever fucking happen.

"are you....busy?"

that smirk returns on his handsome face as he rolls back the chair. roman spreads his legs, again noticing the way her eyes dart to his crotch. the smirk deepens.

he motions her over with his index finger. "never too busy for you."

his eyes stay glued to her breast, her areolas already peppered against the thin material of her dress.

sitting on his lap at a sideways angle, roman shifts her so that her back is pressed up against his chest. she releases a shaky breath. "roman....."

"you wanna tell me the real reason you came in here?" he teases his tongue along the shell of her ear. "why you locked the door?" he moves one big hand to the side of her thigh, slowly sliding up her dress. "hmm?"

her eyes flutter shut, roman groaning as she adjusts herself on top of him, most likely due to the growing erection pressing against that juicy, fat ass of hers. "ro, you.....you know why....."

he smiles, pressing his lips to her temple before playing coy. "no, i don't." she gasps when he slides his hand between her thighs. "tell me."

a moan leaves her pretty mouth, edging him on even more as he circles his finger across her skin, gradually moving closer and closer to her cunt that he'd bet any money is already nice and wet.

just for him.

"roman, please....."

he shakes his head, his other hand moving to her chest. he easily slides his hand through the top of her dress, gently squeezing her breast.

she throws her head back, eyes still closed, roman granted a front row seat to one of the seven world wonders. she's inhumanly beautiful when she's so wanton and needy for him like this.

he shakes his head, one thumb peppering across her nipple, the other ghosting over the cotton of her underwear. "you gotta tell me first, baby......" he's a compassionate man. caring. it's why he allows his fingers to slip past the seam of her underwear, where he's met with the expected wetness that's nearly dripping.

he makes a sound, licking hips lips. her desire for him has to be about what and what with his right now for her. he'd give anything to have his face buried in her sweet cunt, and he just might.

as soon as she fulfills his one request.

"just say it, sol," he glides his fingers across her wet, velvety folds, solana gripping his wrist, writhing atop him. an effort to get him inside of her, to stop this torture. "say what you want papi to do to his sweet girl."

he's certain she almost came right then and there. the combination of his words, the play of his fingers with her nipples and her cunt resulting in borderline overstimulation.

but, it's effective.

eyes open, mouth ajar, panting with burning need, he matches her glazed eyes. "i want you to eat my pussy and f-fuck me, papi."

and not a man on this earth has ever been as blessed as him in this moment. roman practically growls, yanking back his hands and hiking her on her waist before he lays her down on his desk.

"you only have to ask once, amore mio....."

--------

not exactly what you asked for but a lil something! lol

[multifariousqueer]

Hello for starters I love your writing and keep up the great work!👍😊

I was wondering if you could write some headcanons for Earth 42 Miles doing a skin care or mental health day with his s/o? Like doing face masks while relaxing and eating their favorite snacks/food. After noticing that miles needs some extra care from working since he's busy and kinda looks tired.

OFC!!! THIS IS SO CUTE SO IM EXCITED

Miles self care day head cannons

You see that Miles’ usually very bright features look tired, stressed and more gaunt so you decide to have a self care day. I mean, you could use one too

At first, Miles is very reluctant(I hc that he doesn’t believe he deserves this or you.) but you’re very persuasive so he caves

“Cleanse and replenish?” “yeah. It’s good for your skin” “Why is it slimy?” “Its rejuvenating” “I’m plenty juvenated” “Miles.” “fine"

Has a texture thing fs. But he does it for you

His eyes light up when you have his favorite movies and snacks waiting for him

“awww you shouldn’t have” “you deserve it, mi amor” “te amo, mi Corazon"

SIMP SIMP SIMP

He’s a simp for you and he is so proud of it

If you run him a warm bath, he will literally marry you on the spot

“Ohhhh Mammmiii” “I know baby, relax” “You shouldn’t-“ “shhhhhh"

The epsom salt and eucalyptus bath soak get to him fr

“Feel better, baby?” “mhmmm"

Mans is a sponge. You get him a warm robe and slippers and he looks normal again

This man is so confused by your face masks.

“What’s ‘mask of magnanimity’?” “OOOHHHH I LOVE THAT ONE, ITS COOLING AND EXFOLIATES” “what’s in it?” “kaolin and aduki beans” “THEY PUT SHIT IN THE FACEMASKS??” “MILES ITS NOT SHIT OML"

He makes you repeat the ingredients 100 more times because he keeps dying laughing.

“Are you gonna take this serious or what?” “Mami, I promise” “You’re chuckling!” “I can’t help it"

his laughing made you laugh and you fell into him

“I GOT DUKI ON MY SHIRT” “MILES PLEASE”

You were out of breath from laughing and decided to sit on the couch and watch movies

“Ughhh why is it tight? Y/n. I can’t feel my face” “good. We have another 5 minutes anyways so stay still” “It’s the duki, I knew it.”

You laughed so hard, the mask cracked and you had to wash it off early

Miles went with you and he kept splashing you with water

“Miles stop it!” “what? I’m not doing anything” “sir! I literally see you flicking water on me” “...eso no es my fault"

You stared at him for a second before dying laughing

You decide to put on lip masks and order cake from UberEats

“How are we supposed to talk?” “Well I guess we’ll just have to suffer; beauty is pain, Miles” “beauty my ass, you were already gorgeous” “‘were?’” “you still are! I mean” “I know, Papi, I know"

Y’all fall asleep on the couch feeling fresh, moisturized and rejuvenated

[nakylvr]

dani x tmasc reader smut?

KILLING MYSELF. just kidding, obviously. thank you anon for requesting this cause i was too nervous to make it myself 😭 i think i got a bit carried away i apologize (not really)🙏

— STAR SHOPPING 🛡️

warnings/tags: language, nsfw content, tmasc!reader, dom!reader, sub!dani, strap on, papi kink (sorry not sorry the latino in me came out), degradation, mirror sex

minors dni

it's not often that you get jealous. with the reassuring words dani would give you whenever she could tell you were, it was difficult for you to get jealous to the point you were actually upset. except for today, that was.

"fuck, baby, look at you,"

you have dani on her knees in front of you, her hair in one of your hands to keep her looking at the mirror in front of you with your other hand at the base of the faux cock, sliding it up and down her folds. you occasionally push just the tip in before pulling out again, watching her whimper as you kept doing it.

"yn, please," daniela is already near the point of begging, your teasing for the past twenty minutes having that become her final resort.

"you trying to beg? you can do better than that," you scoff. "if you want it so bad, you should beg a lot more."

a curse leaves dani's mouth under her breath at your response, looking at you through the mirror and seeing the look on your face that has her knowing you're serious. "please, yn, i need you so bad. please fuck me, papi," she knows exactly what she's doing by calling you that, it was one of the easiest ways to get what she wanted. and judging by the way your eyes changed the second it left her mouth, it worked.

without saying a word, you swiftly push all the way inside her, the wetness of her making it easy for you to slide in and instantly build a rough pace. a surprised gasp leaves her mouth at your sudden actions, her head falling down until you yank on her hair to have her look in the mirror again. "uh-uh," you shake your head. "you're gonna watch me fuck you like the slut you are, and you're gonna fuckin' enjoy it, understand? keep your eyes open," you hiss.

the second you start roughly fucking her, loud moans begin coming from dani as she tries to nod her head to your words. "ye-yes,"

"yes, who?" you pry, pulling on her hair again eliciting a whine from her.

"yes, papi," she whines. "god, you fuck me so good," she struggles to keep her eyes open and looking in the mirror, the sight of seeing you take her like this having her moans getting needier. "har-harder, fuck, pl-please,"

another scoff leaves your mouth at her plea, rolling your eyes and smacking her ass roughly, eliciting a moan from her as you snap your hips against hers harder. "you're such a fuckin' slut, you know that? begging me to fuck you like this, you did that shit on purpose, didn't you?"

"n-no," dani shakes her head as best as she can. but the way she's pushing herself back onto your cock every time you slam into her says otherwise, which you notice. "i wouldn't- 'm not-" she struggles to form words past her moans that get louder when you yank on her hair again seeing her eyes start to close.

a chuckle leaves your mouth as she struggles to respond, pulling her hair into a makeshift ponytail and yanking on it. "no? hm, that's funny. considering the way you're basically fucking yourself on my cock like one," your voice is dripping with venom as you speak, smiling at the way her jaw falls open when you hit her g-spot.

"fuck!" she gasps at the feeling of the tip hitting the special spot inside her, her jaw slack as she doesn't even try to contain the noises coming from her. "oh my god, 'm gonna cum!" she whines.

"already?" you're practically grinning at this point as you release your grip on her hair, your hands moving to her waist and pushing down causing her to arch, thrusting deeper inside her. "you wanna cum? fine then, just know that this is just beginning, baby."

the new angle has dani shoving her face into the sheets beneath her as strings of loud moans fall from her lips. "f-fuck, please papi, l-let me cum, please," her whining gets needier the closer she gets to cumming. you don't respond, instead just pounding into her waiting for her to cum. within a minute, a long whine comes from her as her body shakes, cumming on your cock.

a whimper escapes her lips as you slow down but don't completely stop, keeping the strap buried deep inside her as you grab her hair and pull on it to have her look at you through the mirror again.

"what did i say, baby? we're just getting started."

[k9iriz]

𝐡𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 / • 𝐧𝐞𝐲𝐦𝐚𝐫 𝐣𝐫

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 ; 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘢𝘷𝘪 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘮, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘯𝘦𝘺𝘮𝘢𝘳, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘧𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳.

(𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙛𝙚𝙢!) /𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧.

𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘵𝘷, 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘱𝘥𝘢 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘢𝘷𝘪 & 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘭𝘰𝘭.

i hummed quietly as i slightly pulled up my olive colored stringed tube too, examining my now bigger backside through my matching colored leggings, with jewelry to top the outfit off, with a slick back ponytail.

i never felt more beautiful in the world. i mean, after dealing with postpartum depression when i had davi, took a toll on my mental and it effected mostly how i viewed myself, mostly how i looked.

but ney made sure i wasn’t going through it alone. even sitting out for the season for me, which he didn’t have to do, but it was along the lines of “i love you more than ever, why wouldn’t i?”.

best husband i could ever ask for right?

finishing putting on my last anklet, i grabbed me purse, before i opened our shared bedroom door, walking downstairs as i was met with neymar watching tv, just putting down davi for bed.

“tudo bem papi, estou saindo para hoje à noite!” i said, before i bent down to reach my shoes, before being met with my handsome husband, just blatantly staring, like analyzing what i was wearing. ["alright papi, im leaving for tonight!"]

“is it something wrong?” I asked before neymar stood up, walking over to me, his tall figure just standing over me. mnm.

“não... mas sua roupa, é problema meu. você não vai sair com essa roupa meu amor.” neymar shook his head, before slightly leaning against the wall before i kissed my teeth in a attempt to win him over. [“nope...but your outfit, is my problem. your not going out in that outfit my love.”]

“but babyyyyy! i thought this was ‘hubby approved?’” i whined, walking up to him, hoping that he would change his mind on the outfit. i like when he’s like that, possessive, but he wasn’t overly possessive. he just didn’t want anyone to see what was his.

“it is...but i know...you look this good? you might be hiding something under these leggings...your ass is moving way too much princess.” neymar smiled, wrapping his arms around me as he kissed my lips, before burying his face inside of my neck, making me break out in giggles.

“stop-neyyyy! why are you feeling in my pantsss?-” you kept squirming in his arms, before his hands successfully made it to the inside of your tights before he felt around your ass…

he stopped before he felt a thin string run across his hand, standing back, as he felt himmself run hard…just from rubbing against you, he knew you had on a thong, not let alone a g-string.

“princesa, puxe-os para baixo e deixe-me ver o que você está vestindo.” neymar demanded, his demeanor just turning me on in seconds…wet. [“princess, pull them down and let me see what you're wearin’”]

pouting and just irritated in general about the whole ordeal, i whined, him not budging at all. still.

cockblocker.

“what did i say?” his accent was present in his english.

“ugh…fine.” I rolled my eyes, pulling my pants before revealing a black thong, causing him to bite his lip…just examining me and my figure , how natural my curves were and how my body snapped back just easily after birthing davi.

“are you trying to tempt me? by sneaking out in a thong mu amour?” neymar teased slightly, giving me that gaze.

wetted my underwear that fast-

“no…it’s just panties. what’s the big deal?” i sassed, before neymar chuckled, pulling me back swiftly, before his hand was around my throat just like that.

“or should i fix that attitude of yours? you wouldn’t wanna wake up davi would you?” neymar challenged, as my lip was tucked in my bottom teeth, feeling my legs go weak just from him putting me in my place that fast.

before huffing “no papi.” i responded, before he let go, his hands running back down my ass, gripping it in his hands, just caressing it before his lips made it to my ear.

(i have a thing for tatted hands…)

“so be a good girl and change for me. and drop the attitude.” neymar spoke, his breath hitching in my ear as he moved closer, making me whimper, sprinkled with a moan in this midst.

“okay…” i smiled, trailing off before walking back to our shared room, changing my underwear.

a short few minutes later, i walked back downstairs, to be smart, i put on his favorite pink laced panties he bought me for valentines day, standing in front of him.

“better now?” i huffed before standing up. neymar felt a heartbeat down there…the throbbing sensation grew the more he stared…and in his favorite panties? i was bound to be fucked up…

“way much better. covers up nicely.” neymar sarcastically spoke, before you could pull up or grab your leggings from the floor, neymar pulled you by your panties, causing me to fall on him.

“neyyy! i have to go! im gonna be-ouuu shit.” you felt him slap your ass, before softly sucking on your sweet spot, as i caressed his head.

“shhh���eles podem esperar, deixe-me provar baby antes de você sair... foda-se.” neymar muttered across your skin, before slapping your ass again, causing euphoric thoughts to take over as he repeatedly attacked my spot, sucking on it. [“shh, they can wait, let me get a taste baby, before you leave...fuck.”]

i guess im never leaving the house anytime soon…without any more inspections. i don’t mind it tho.

first neymar fic bc im obsessed, give me suggestions!, lemme know how i did loves!

[ohbabydollie]

some schlatt n latina reader hcs bc i can and i’ve never seen them done and it js makes sense in my mind

he absolutely loves celebrating holidays with you, especially in the winter time

“cut a small piece schlatt” you warn looking at him “but i want a big-” “i swear to god, if you get the baby” you threaten as he cuts a large chunk and starts eating it with his chocolate abuelita before suddenly stopping as you raise a brow at him

he spits something into his napkin

“le tocó el bebé! (he got the baby!)” your tía cheers as you stare at him

“you should’ve eaten it” you huff jokingly

he will speak to your family in spanish and understands them which is a first from a partner of yours and they like it very much

he’s loves the food

especially caldos y sopas

n stuff made mostly in the winter time (100% asks for caldo de pollo on the hottest day known to man)

now refuses to drink regular pack hot chocolate after drinking chocolate de abuelita and makes you make it for him when he’s craving some

like will eat 2-5 bowls of pozole if given the chance with tostadas

“mamá ya, he’s had enough to eat” you say picking up his bowl of pozole before your mom takes it “pero míralo, tiene hambre(but look at him, he looks hungry)” she says serving him some more “no le das de comer o que? (you don’t feed him or what?)” she asks placing the plate down as he grins making you roll your eyes

your tias y abuelitas LOVE him from how much he eats and how he’ll sit around gossiping and talking with them for hours

your younger siblings or cousins absolutely adore him, from gaming to playing soccer with him and will ask for him when he doesn’t come with you to a dinner or party

yk how they rent out bouncy houses for birthday parties

he’s helping the kids tipping them over and will unplug the bouncy house to mess with them as they start to yell

“why are you here? did jay come?” your nephew asks looking up at you as his mom smacks him on the head “pide la bendición primero menso (ask for blessing first dumbass)”

some of your family didn’t really understand his career at first until after he explained that making and posting videos makes him money along with his other businesses

“soy muy trabajador y tengo dos negocios (im very hard working and i have two business)” he explains as your family nods, especially your tios, in approval

speaking of tios, they didn’t like him at first

kinda standing there judging him silently, beer in hand until they offered him one and he responded in spanish

now they’re asking when the both of you plan on getting married, especially after hearing how “hard working” he is

has a love-hate relationship with the crusty white dogs or chihuahuas your family has

they will bark, bite and nip at him until he stops trying to pet and hold them

god forbid one of them claimed you as their favorite person because he is not allowed in your vicinity at all

“be nice, es tu papi (he’s your daddy)” you say, the dog growling at schlatt while schlatt gives it the cockiest grin “soy tu papi nuevo (im your new daddy)” he says going to pet the dog as it tries to bite his finger

makes jokes about you using him for a green card, money, etc. but won’t push your boundaries at all

“it’s either bisexual or bipolar and i chose bipolar when it comes with a fat ass in forbidden pants” schlatt tells the chat as you come in, handing him something to eat and walk out as he watches you, “yeah the red flags are looking green when you’re seeing them from behind”

likes your attitude, just the witty comebacks n stuff

especially when you’re around his friends and say something in spanish that will have him flustered while they ask for him to translate

if he ever genuinely makes you upset he’s at your feet, apologizing

“please please please please” he begs, on the floor “jay, it’s fine” you say crossing your arms in the way he knows it means its not fine “POR FAVOR (PLEASE) Y/N, ILL GIVE YOU WHATEVER YOU WANT” he begs, pulling out his wallet

is probably the biggest simp known to man for you

will use anything as an excuse to show you off, like anything

even gifts, he’ll take a photo of the gift and post it along side a selfie you sent him just to show you off some more

flexes you to everyone from his friends to chat

“what does the schirlfriend look like?” he reads off, immediately grabbing his phone to show off the new lock screen he has of you “hot as fuck, i’ll tell you that for sure”

might write some more if u guys want it :3