beyoursbb

[beyoursbb]

butcher sending you this with no context except “come take my pants off, the belts stuck” when hes in some dingy motel while on a mission with hughie and MM

one thing leads to another and hes talking you through it while you both touch yourselves over the phone cause you just cant stay away

[beyoursbb]

I just know Butcher bites you while he fucks you deep and slow.

While you’re face down ass up, a writhing, whimpering mess, he hunches over your back, pressing his head against yours as he digs into your shoulder with his teeth, the softest grunt mixing with the pain before he lets go to admire the mark he made.

“Thats it, that’s my good fuckin’ girl” he grunts, moving your hair away from your ear to hear him better as he pins you down further with his body weight, his big hand holding your head against the pillow.

He moans loudly at the sounds you make, the crying and begging for him to stop because you’re about to come, but he keeps going, feeling your dripping wet pussy clench around him as you fall apart on his cock that slams into you, breaking you into pieces just so he can fix you again.

A slap to your ass makes you jump and he lays you flat on your stomach to drill into you, his hand wrapping around your throat, his teeth once again finding your ear to nip at. He’s not gentle when he gets the oral fixation, the need to mark you.

You’d have bite marks that bruise over on your thighs, your ass, and the more tame ones on your shoulders and tits.

“You like being my fucktoy, baby? All these marks on this perfect body, yeah?”

[beyoursbb]

It’s a secret no one knows but you. Billy loves to fish. You never mind getting up early when it’s to spend a few days out on the boat with him.

It’s beautiful and he’s transformed. No one’s around for miles, it’s like you’re the only two people left. He lets you bundle up in his sweater in the morning, and you let him try to teach you with his arms around you, his big hands covering yours.

By midday he’s caught a few and he’s in a good mood. It’s warmed up and you take your top off to lay in the sun. You can feel his eyes every time he pauses to let his gaze sweep over your body.

It’s not long before he’s kneeling between your legs, stripping the rest of your clothes off and burying his face between your thighs, where you’re already hot and slick for him. When you cry and tug on his hair as you come, again, he gives a low rumble like some kind of dangerous jungle beast.

As the sun starts to go down he’s scooping you up, bending you over whatever the nearest appropriate surface is, and thrusting into your pliant body so hard and slow all you can do is whimper and sob and beg for more.

He palms your breasts with those huge strong hands, and pinches your tight nipple, making your whole body tremble as you cry out again. He gives a husky, wicked, low chuckle and slides his hand down to nestle his fingertips over your swollen clit.

He loves to make you scream again and again, out here on the water, just you and him and the dark starry sky.

(jump starting my muse with this impromptu Billy boat smut! hope it brightens your day! lots more in the works!)

[beyoursbb]

Damn not my work lowkey blowing up while I’m taking a break from tumblr 😅 every time i check (every few days during the week) there are more notes on my stories! Glad some readers enjoyed my Sugar Daddy Butcher series — I have more WIPs for it, I’ve just been caught up with work and a new relationship 😅

TMI — at the same time, some parts of this new relationship have been like straight outta fanfic 😂 so im hoping maybe it’ll help me write too…cuz i mean fanfics are basically fantasies, but now they kinda became reality! Like nothing crazy but enough to make me pause and be like…i fucking WROTE THAT LINE 🤭…LOL maybe this is the new manifesting

[beyoursbb]

Anything else you'd care to tell us about what gets Frankie off (aside from manhandling you and getting you off)? 👀👀

SO!  This was gonna be a nice little bullet point list, but then I got a little stuck on what would be on it and ended up distracted thinking about a couple specific points while I was hopped up on anxiety and too little sleep and too much caffeine so now it’s just a whole goddamn fic!  I have been staring at this for so long I have no idea if it’s good anymore so Happy Thanksgiving / I’m sorry, YMMV.

Risk and Reward

Excruciatingly shameless Frankie/F!Reader smut, 4.2k+ words (don’t ask me I don’t know what happened either), unbeta’d bc I’m impatient and the offered beta-er went to sleep, moderately edited bc I cannot linear a thought process.

Warnings: praise kink, risky sex, dirty talk, road hand (this is apparently what it’s called???), semi-public sex, semi-feral Frankie, car sex (truck sex?), unprotected sex (do as I say, not as I fictionalize), cream pie, implied come-eating (not actually shown).

Pedro Perma-taglist: @littleferal, @thirstworldproblemss, @corvueros

It’s nothing you mean to start.  It’s just a congratulatory kiss on the cheek and a soft mutter of “Good job, baby,” when Frankie thrashes Benny at a game of pool at the bar.  It’s been a rough week, and it’s good to see him enjoying himself and not propped up miserably on your couch while you try to work the knots out of his shoulders and neck for the fourth night in a row.  He preens a little at the attention, eyes downcast but with a crooked smile that stops just on the verge of smug.  You loop your arm around his waist to keep him close, hooking your fingers under his belt, and as Frankie raises his head for a proper kiss you catch a wicked little glimmer in his eye.

His mouth hits yours and there’s nothing telling in that, it’s perfectly sweet and nearly chaste, but his hand slips up to the back of your neck, squeezing gently like a thank you.  The wheels in your head are turning a little slow courtesy of the drink you’ve been nursing while you watched Frankie play, and it takes a long, long moment for the thought to finally land: he likes it when you praise him.  It was possibly the easiest of his inclinations to find - the first time you’d taken him to bed and locked your ankles around him and told him how fucking good he felt had dragged such a gut-wrenching sound out of him you’d thought he’d pulled a muscle until he’d begun to move faster. 

You hadn’t considered that maybe that might push his buttons outside of the bedroom, but now you’re thinking maybe it’s worth a try.

Frankie tugs you along back to the table to sit, scooting close enough that your chairs knock into each other whenever one of you shifts, but it’s enough for you to lean into the crook of his arm comfortably.  You drift through the conversation, not feeling any pressing need to be included, just pleased to be close enough to feel the way laughter buzzes through Frankie’s chest.

“What about you, Fish?  How’s the mechanic gig working out?”

“Eh, it’s fine,” he says.  “It’s work.”

You nudge him with your elbow.  “Understatement of the century, baby.”

Frankie inclines his head in reluctant agreement.  “We’re shorthanded right now, I’ve been picking up extra shifts.�� But the boss isn’t a complete prick, and it’s good money, so…”  He trails off, shrugging as if that’s the only explanation needed.

He’s modest to a fault, god bless him, and you sigh with exasperated affection as you knock your head against his shoulder.  “Well I’m proud of you, baby.  You’ve been working your ass off.”

Santi points a finger over his beer.  “Ooh, careful, man, you ain’t got much of that to spare.”

Frankie mutters a short stream of Spanish over the top of your head - the only word you manage to catch in your limited vocabulary being pendejo - and the other man grins.

“Language, Francisco,” Santi says, one hand to his chest as though scandalized.  “There are ladies present.”

You laugh, craning your neck to place a kiss by Frankie’s ear.  “Don’t listen to him, baby, you’ve got a cute ass.”

His cheek grows warm, and warmer still when Benny cuts in: “All right, ease up on hype routine before we gotta call emergency services to get Fish’s giant fuckin’ head out the door.”

“We got a hacksaw in the truck, it’s fine,” you insist, giving Frankie’s thigh a squeeze under the table.  “Not my fault you yahoos have never heard of positive reinforcement.”

Frankie’s chuckle is so low you almost miss it, his face hidden under the bill of his hat.  Santi eyes this display with one of his impressive eyebrows hiked.  He meets your gaze for a second, a knowing smirk on his face that suggests he at least is fully aware of what you’re pulling on his friend right now.  You only smile, sip your drink, and let your hand wander out of sight up and down Frankie’s thigh.

Abruptly Santi thumps Benny’s shoulder with the back of his hand.  “C’mon Benny-boy, I feel like knocking balls around.  I’ll let you win the first round, get you some of your pride back.”

Benny scrunches his face up, scooting away from the table with his hands spread.  “Like hell.  You ain’t letting me do shit, Pope, I’ll kick your ass fair and square.”

Santiago tips you a wink as he ushers Benny off to the pool table.  “Behave yourselves.”

“Hell no,” you shoot back, and he grins.

Immediately Frankie’s mouth brushes your ear.  “You’re a menace,” he says, a little heat crackling through his amusement like dry lightning.

It’s a small effort to school your expression into something reminiscent of innocence before you turn to face him.  “What, can’t a girl pay her boyfriend a compliment?”  You trail your hand up, brushing the back of your knuckles against his fly.  His jeans feel just a bit tighter than they really ought to, and it absolutely delights you.

His eyes seem to darken; no small feat in the already dim light of the bar.  “I know what you’re up to,” he says, that small, pleased smile still curling the corners of his mouth.

“And?” you press, a little laughter coloring your voice.  “Is it working?”

He doesn’t answer, but the way he looks at you suggests he finds it funny you even have to ask.

Emboldened now, you leave a kiss against the corner of his mouth and press your hand a little more firmly between his legs.  “Come on.  You work so hard, and you always take such good care of me.  Let me be sweet on you, Frankie.  You’ve been so good, you deserve a little praise.”

“Querida,” he mutters, low and light enough that his voice nearly cracks.  If it weren’t for the feel of him stiffening you might’ve mistaken the tone for embarrassment rather than barely concealed excitement.

You smile at him, all sugar, and cup him through his jeans, the outline of him clear against the fabric.  “Say it, Frankie.  C’mon baby.  Tell me you’ve been good.”

The bulge under your hand twitches hard and swells, the denim stretching even tighter.  “We’re leaving,” he announces quietly, pulling his coat into his lap as he stands.  “Now.”

Grinning, you stand, unhurriedly slipping on your own coat and waving as Frankie ushers you past the pool table and towards the front door.

“Good night, boys,” you call back over your shoulder.

Santi laughs, and the last thing you hear before the door closes is him announcing to Benny: “Told you.  Not even five minutes.  Pay up, bud.”

Ever the gentleman, even now, he follows you to the passenger side to get the door.  You stretch up, offering a kiss in thanks, but he damn near collapses into it, pushing against you so suddenly the backs of your legs strike the step behind you and you almost lose your balance.  Luckily Frankie’s reflexes are better than yours, even now, and as quickly as you start to feel your balance go he gets an arm around your back, dragging your body flush to his again.  The surprise leaves you giddy and giggling, and before you even know you’re planning on doing it you’re giving his cock a heavy squeeze through his jeans.

“Fuck,” he breathes, breaking away.  “Not here, baby.  Fuck don’t get me started here.  We’ll get caught.”

“Thought you liked it a little risky, Francisco,” you tease, but you still your hand anyway.

“Baby there’s two cruisers parked over there,” he says with a thin laugh, jerking his chin over your left shoulder.  “Shaking my dick at the cops is not the kind of risky I like.”

You glance over and sure enough, there’s two police cars in the parking lot, one of them still occupied and idling.  The men inside don’t appear to be paying you any mind, but Frankie’s right: it’s best if it stays that way.  Sputtering laughter, you pull your hand away and cup the sides of his face, thumbs stroking through his coarse stubble.  “Better take me home then.”

Frankie keeps a close eye on the occupied car as you pull out onto the road, eyes returning again and again to the rearview mirror for at least three blocks before he finally seems to relax a little.  He rolls his shoulders, nodding, muttering a quiet affirmative to himself, and then tenses all over again when you slide your hand back up his thigh.

“Baby,” he warns.  There’s a heady mix of panic and excitement in his eyes as his right hand darts out, grabbing your wrist inches away from your prize.

“Both hands on the wheel, baby,” you tell him evenly.  “Let me do this for you.”  And then you wait, thumb rubbing a slow circle across his denim-covered thigh.  It’s an offer, not an order.  You’re honestly not sure if he’s actually good with this idea, and you’re not about to bulldoze him into something he doesn’t want to do on a blind, horny whim.

He squeezes your wrist a little tighter, then nods.  “Okay,” he whispers, and returns his hand to the wheel. 

“Good boy.  You’ve got this, Frankie.  Just keep your eyes on the road,” you mutter, shifting a little closer and giving him a slow squeeze.  Your heart’s beating faster now, thrilled at the prospect of what you’re about to do - what he’s about to let you do.  “I know how good you are behind the wheel.  What’s it Santi always says?  ‘Anything with wheels or wings,’ that’s your specialty.  You just focus on the road and let me take care of you.”

“Jesus,” he croaks when you undo his belt, lifting his hips automatically as you draw his zipper down and work his jeans down just enough to let his cock spring free.

You can’t help but crow a little at the sight of him: hard and wavering and already welling a glassy bead of pre-come.  “Fuck, I love how hard you get for me, Francisco,” you murmur as you take him in hand, delighted at the rigid heat under your fingers.  He whimpers at the praise, shoulders pushing back hard against the seat.

He’s silent as you begin to stroke him, his jaw set too tight to allow him to speak.  A small whimper escapes him when you swirl your thumb around the head of his cock, spreading that bead of slickness over it. 

To his credit, the truck doesn’t waver in the slightest.  He damn near drives a razor-line down the highway, speed so steady you would’ve thought it was cruise control.  The only real show that this is costing him any kind of effort is the way the steering wheel creaks under his white-knuckle grip.  It’s still early enough that the roads aren’t fully deserted, and it’s taking all of his concentration to keep his focus on what his hands are doing instead of what your hands are doing. 

The light at the intersection ahead turns from yellow to red and he slows to a stop, one hand trembling on the gear shift. In the brief reprieve his eyes slip closed, allowing himself just a minute to fully focus on the sweet, overwhelming friction of your hand.  He shudders, sinking back into the seat as all the pleasure he’d tried to tamp down overspills.  His hips jerk up into your hand, sharp at first and then rocking, chasing the sensation.  A deep, sweet groan tumbles out of his open mouth and Frankie’s eyes flutter closed, his head dropping against the back window hard enough to make it rattle.

“Good, baby?”

“Fuck yes,” he breathes.  

It’s wonderful to see him like this, so willingly overwhelmed and aching for what you want to give him.  It lights you up, a bright, sweet ache that starts low in your belly and blooms out everywhere, flaring up hotter with every little sound he makes.  The heater’s blowing now, warmth swirling around your legs and you hike your dress up, pressing your fingers insistently against your clit through your tights.  

A moan escapes you before you can stop it, teeth clamping down on your lower lip just a bit too late.  Frankie’s head whips around at the sound, mouth agape at the sight of you with one hand around his cock and the other working half-hidden between your legs.  And then you’re reminded of just how fast this man can be, because one moment his right hand is resting on the gear shift and the next it’s pushing your own fingers aside to rub eagerly at your clothed slit.  The fabric is absolutely soaked through, and Frankie swears under his breath.

“You get this wet for me, baby?” he all but whispers, rubbing a slow, firm circle over your clit.

Sighing, you cover his hand with your own, trying to match your strokes with the rhythm of his fingers.  “Mm-hm.  Just for you, Frankie.  You look so sweet like this, I can’t help it.”

“I promise you, baby, you look sweeter.  Fuck, I could eat you up.  Wanna tear these fucking tights off you and bury my face in your sweet little pussy until you can’t think of anything else.”  He’s quiet - he’s always so quiet - but somehow the gentle rasp of his voice only serves to make that stream of filth even hotter.

A sudden honk makes you both jump, Frankie spitting out a stream of obscenity in Spanish while you can only give an undignified squeak.  The light, you realize as you look up, has gone green again.

Frankie fumbles the truck back into gear, waving an apology to the person behind you. As soon as he’s got the truck into gear his hand returns to you, trying to take its place between your legs again.  Despite literally everything in you that desperately wants to feel those thick fingers against your desperately aching cunt, you shake your head.

“Both hands on the wheel, Frankie,” you remind him, considerably more breathless this time than the first.  “The sooner you get me home the sooner you can take these off me just like you want.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re killing me, baby,” he pants shakily as he settles both hands on the wheel again and eases down the road.  

Control is a little harder to come by now that he’s let it slip, his body turned into a perpetual motion machine, rocking back and forth without the need for his input.  He’s dripping like mad, enough that your hand slides easy back up his length.  Your fingers glide over the slick head and he shudders, swearing, and thumps his heel against the floor.

“Don’t-” he chokes, and his hips press up hard against your hand as a thick runner of pre-come trickles down the underside of his cock.

You slow, squeezing him rhythmically.  “‘Don’t’ what, baby?  You want me to stop?”

He groans, gritting his teeth.  “No.  N-no, no.  Just...fuck, if you keep going you’re gonna make me come.  Don’t make me come like this, baby, please.”

“You got something else in mind?  Tell me, Frankie.  You deserve a reward.  Tell me what you want.”

“Christ,” he pants, searching for words and coming up empty, his ability to think stretched far too thin trying to drive a straight line while you nudge him closer and closer to the edge.   “Madre de fucking Dios, baby, goddamn it.” 

Home is still a good five minutes away, but there’s no way Frankie’s going to make it that far.  Grasping his cock tight at the base, you scoot in closer until your chin’s on his shoulder and you can press your mouth right up against his ear.  “Easy, Frankie.  Take a breath, and tell me what you want.”

There’s a thin whistle as he hitches in a deep breath, the loose front of his t-shirt drawing tight under his jacket as his chest expands.  He holds it for a dizzying moment, pulse thudding so heavily his cock bobs in your grip with it.

“I want to fuck you, querida,”  he whines.  “Lemme fuck you, baby, please.  I don’t want to wait until we get home, I want to feel you on my cock now.”

The heat that’s been pooling in your belly bursts into a goddamn fireball, and any desire you had to keep your hand on the reins in this little scenario, to make him wait for it just a little longer, wholly evaporates.  The skin high up on his neck is cool when you press your lips against him, smooth at first and then raising up into goosebumps when you whisper: “Pull over, Frankie.”

“Fuck, I- fuck.”   His throat works, eyes darting between the road and the mirrors, and then his arm shoots out, holding you back against the seat.  There’s a side road ahead, choked with weeds and largely unused, and Frankie takes the turn onto it one-handed, killing the engine as soon as he gets the truck far enough into the weeds to be mostly unnoticed.  

And then he’s on you, his mouth crashing into yours with a staggering intensity, dragging you up to straddle his lap and sliding his hands underneath your dress.  His fingers hit the apex of your thighs, catching at the sodden seam of your tights and wrenching them apart.  The sound of fabric ripping is startlingly loud in the small space, and you gasp against his mouth, stealing his breath.  

Your head spins, wondering if maybe you teased him just a bit too far, but then there’s another rip and your panties are gone, too, fluttering down to catch on the brake pedal.  The hot, wet head of his cock nudges your entrance and suddenly your only thought becomes - oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.  You brace yourself for the jolt, because even as wet as you are Frankie is big, and you’re certain you’ve worked him up so much he hasn’t got the control left to give you time to adjust.

But Frankie always has a way of surprising you.  You’re tensed up, expecting force and speed and instead he pulls you down slow; taking you at a crawl when you expected a sprint, and all you can do is scratch your fingers across his scalp and whine as he fills you up, sweet and hot like honeyed brandy.  He shudders so hard the springs in the seat creak as you slip down another inch, and another, clenching and fluttering around him as he buries himself inside you with a groan so deep it’s nearly a sob.

“Yes, baby,” he mutters, words returning to him in a slow trickle.  He drops his forehead against your chest, his breath lovely and hot on the thin skin between your breasts as he tugs the neckline of your dress down to leave a kiss there.  “Fuck yes. You take me so good.  Keep going.”  His fingers bite into your thigh as you sink down a little more.  “Don’t-don’t stop, baby.  I need to fuck you.  I need to.  Don’t stop.”

His body thrums underneath you as you sink down, every muscle trembling like high-strung wire, ready to snap.  He’s trying so very very hard to hold on long enough to let you open for him, to be ready for him to give you what he wants.  The realization leaves you dizzy, your grip tightening around his shoulders and he lets out a choked moan as you settle fully in his lap and all but gush around his cock.

You’ve got bare seconds before his patience gives out, but you settle your hands on his chest, feeling the race of his heartbeat under the well-worn cotton of his t-shirt, and push yourself just far enough away that you can look down at him properly.  God, you want to move.  You need to move.  Every time with Frankie holds the same sense of shuttered awe, like you forget what it’s like to be this full until he’s inside you again, pressing up against nerves you barely knew you had.

It’s dark now, the streetlights barely reaching into the shaded alley, and Frankie’s face is painted only in shades of blues and blacks.  But even in the darkness you can see that awe-struck look on his face: lips parted, eyes wide and impossibly dark.  The first thing you think rolls straight off your tongue without a second to parse it: “You’re so beautiful, baby.”

And Frankie breaks.

He grits out a sound that’s half a snarl and half a whimper and lunges up into you so hard you have to brace yourself against the roof of the cab to keep from hitting your head.  Without even meaning to you cry out, the air forced out of you in a broken staccato as Frankie plants his feet on the baseboard and fucks up into you so hard you swear you feel the jolt of it lance up brightly through your ribcage.  It’s unrelenting, frantic and primal and fucking overwhelming.  All you can do is wrap your arms tight around his shoulders and hang on, let him take what he needs, letting him give you everything he can.

Frankie’s beyond words.  Teeth bared against your throat, arms locked tight around you.  One of his hands is hooked around your shoulder, the other gripping mercilessly at your ass.  Even as wet as you are you still grip him tight, especially at this angle, and it’s nearly a struggle for him to move, to drag himself out of you and bury himself all over again.  

You want to encourage him.  Want to praise him.  God knows he’s earned it, but every nerve in your body is on fire and you can’t even find the air to breathe, let alone speak.  You manage a sharp, keening whine as he shifts under you, just barely grazing your g-spot.  Every nerve sparks like raw metal on flint and without even meaning to you clamp down on him tight, your body taking the initiative and trying to hold him against that spot, to chase that burn.

Snarling, Frankie shoves you back, your shoulders thudding against the steering wheel.  The change in angle is sudden and shocking and oh god it puts him right where you wanted him, driving up relentlessly against your sweet spot.  It’s brutal and blissful and fucking perfect, and when he shoves his hand under your dress and drags his thumb in shaking circles over your swollen clit it’s even better.  It’s fucking heaven, and you’ve got no idea how much more of it you can take.  Your whole body shakes, unmindful of any direction you might give it.  Your hand strikes out blindly, knocking hard against the solid plane of his chest and grabbing a fistful of his t-shirt.

“Please, baby,” he groans through gritted teeth, and you have just enough senses left to hear just how close he is to coming, and how desperate he is to get you there, too.  “C’mon.  Come for me.  Please.”

“F-f-frankie.”  So close.  Each thrust, each stroke of his fingers pushes you a little closer to your peak, all other sensations fading out and making room for the overload.  You’re not sure if you could see anything even if it was broad daylight right now, but goddamn it you wish you could see his face...

The last thing you hear is Frankie’s shaking voice pleading with you: “Please baby.”  And then there’s just a ringing, high and tuneless.  You have the barest second to wonder if you’ve truly gone deaf and then, like the sheer enormity of it was too much for your brain to process at once, then you come.  Every muscle contracts and you seize up, shuddering, all control over your body lost.  Your throat burns, and it isn’t until Frankie’s hand clamps down over your mouth to quiet you that you understand why.

His heel pounds the floor and he thrusts up into you once more, lifting you up as he goes rigid, under you and inside you, his arms locking tight around your body.  He comes with a broken sob, his face buried against your neck as he quakes his way through the spasms.

The ringing fades, and you listen to the sound your mingled breathing, harsh and labored.  You tighten your grip on him, curl one arm around his head so you can brush his hair back - god, when had he lost his hat in all this? - and press a long kiss to his damp forehead.

Your throat’s a wreck, your voice rough and uneven when you finally find it again.

“Good boy,” you murmur.

“Love you, baby,” he says hoarsely, the words stifled against your skin.  “Jesus Christ I fucking love you.”

“Love you too, Francisco.”

He laughs, breathless and utterly come-drunk.  “Fuck, we need to get out of here.  Somebody definitely heard that.”

You stroke your fingers through his hair, too pleasantly fuzzed to care overmuch about that.  “Hm.  I’m gonna make a mess of the seat,” you complain drowsily, already feeling him begin to trickle out of you as his cock softens.

“‘S okay, baby,” he says, the scratch of his stubble oddly soothing as he kisses his way up your neck. “As soon as we get home I promise I’ll clean you up.”

His tongue traces a shockingly warm line up to the corner of your jaw, and your legs tremble at the suggestion.  

“Very good boy,” you amend.

.

[beyoursbb]

For dieter bravo (cause I never find any for him)

*my hands would look good around your throat*

Combined with this prompt ✨️

Choke Me

Dieter Bravo x Reader

Wordcount: 700ish

Masterlist

Warnings: choking is the main theme here

AN: I've never written Dieter before, so it may not be completely accurate to his character, but I love this trash panda and this movie so much 🥺 Not well edited, written in a short period of time.

Part of my 1K follower celebration where readers send in from a prompt and character list.

"Dieter, please choke me." You moaned, your eyes locked into his as he continued thrusting his shaft harder into your cunt, pushing to the hilt.

He was so fucking hard that it hurt your insides, and you were sure it would leave an ugly mark somewhere deep in your pussy once he pulled out, but for now… fuck, you wanted this, needed this, more than anything else in your life. "Please -" you begged.

"But what if I hurt you?" He asked with a genuine concern in his voice.

His chocolate orbs held yours as they always did when you pleaded him like this, with the same amount of sincerity as any other time. And damn, if you weren't so fucked up on drugs right now, you might've noticed just how beautiful he looked at that moment. The dim light casted a gentle glow around him.

The way you felt, the way he looked at you made your stomach clench and your cheeks heat, flushing red.

"You're so fucking pretty, don't wanna hurt you." he muttered out between his heavy breathing and moaning.

Your own breaths came out ragged as he moved again inside of you, still keeping his hands firmly placed on your hips to hold himself steady.

"Dieter, please, need your big hands round my throat."

That comment made him stop what he was doing. He looked deep in thought as he ran his thumb lightly over your neck, as if in consideration.

Then, he looked up at you through lidded eyes, those soft browns turning darker and more intense with passion. You shivered at the feeling of his gaze burning into your skin.

You grabbed his hands gently placing them over your throat, his hands were fucking massive wrapping over top of each other making it seem like he could snap your neck with one quick movement if he wanted.

"Please choke me," you repeated, your tone softer and breathy now. "Dieter, please."

He spoke softly looking at his hands then your neck, "My hands would look good around your throat," he nodded before leaning down to place a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips then he pressed his weight down ever so slightly to support himself from above.

And that's when you knew he had decided what to do.

His face twisted slightly as he forced himself to continue, grinding against you, his cock stretching you even further. God, you'd never gotten used to the way he filled you, the feel of his thick cock sliding inside of you.

As he pushed forward, you could feel the pressure building up inside your body, your core tightening as he pounded harder and deeper, faster and faster, until everything inside of you exploded all at once.

You cried out as your orgasm hit you full force, tears running down your cheeks. He followed soon after, and his grip tightened around your throat as he came too, shooting off inside of you.

There was silence as both of you recovered, panting heavily. When his heavy chest stopped moving and he began to slowly withdraw from your body, you didn't say anything but wrapped yourself tightly in his arms.

He hugged back instantly, pressing a kiss onto the top of your head. You let out a content sigh as he stroked your hair.

"That was amazing," he whispered against your temple. You nodded, feeling yourself starting to calm down already.

It didn't take long for you to feel him get up, and walk towards the bathroom before you heard the rushing of the shower water spatter across the tiled walls.

Suddenly, he popped his head around the corner, "you coming, sweetheart?" he asked with a teasing glint in his dark eyes. You nodded your head at him, giggling softly. "Already did."

He chuckled, walking backward into the room with a slight wiggle of his eyebrows.

New Taglist Open For All Pedro Boys 🌟@caatheeriinee07

[beyoursbb]

The Beginning. {Javier Peña x F! Reader.}

Summary: You’d follow him anywhere. And so you did.

Warnings: Some angst, some concerns for the future, leaving a job without any plans, p in v sex, male and female masturbation and some soft!Javi. Please tell me if i forgot anything.

Word count: 1798.

Authors note: The plan is to follow up with their start in Laredo if people want it. Enjoy!

His fingers interlaced yours as you gently rested your head on his shoulder, he was quiet, but quiet in a way you had never seen him before. It was the kind of quiet that only comes when years of burden are thrown off of one’s shoulders, and the only weight that brushes the surface is one of gentle hands softly working out the knots that had formed over countless restless nights.

It was over. And after years of being held hostage by a battle that was continuing to rage on, he was finally free. Free to look back on the good he had done, instead of tormenting himself by focusing on the bad. Finally free to make a home after spending years trapped in a house and finally free to give the parts of himself to you that he feared you would find too ugly or too damaged to love.

But the moment you followed him into that office, and handed over your badge and gun without a second's hesitation he knew he had nothing to fear, you walked out of that building with your heads held higher than ever and your hand resting gently in his.

Javier peered out the plane window, the streets of Colombia feeling further and further away as the seconds dragged into minutes. Less than twenty minutes until the runway would be thousands of feet beneath you both and the roaring sound of the plane's engines would be an unofficial soundtrack to the new life awaiting you both.

“Are you sure your dad doesn’t mind?” you ask quietly as you nuzzle your face against his neck, “He hasn’t even met me and I’m going to be staying in his home.”

“He can’t wait to meet you,” Javi replies before placing a quick kiss on your scalp, “He’s going to adore you. Just try to sleep, baby.”

You don’t argue, you simply try to get as comfortable as you possibly can against the warm sticky leather seat and take a large inhale, flooding your senses with his warm welcoming scent.

‘Home,’ you think silently to yourself, maybe right now you don’t technically have a place made of bricks and mortar with a legal document declaring it as your own; but you have him and that’s all that matters at this very moment.

The reassuring squeeze of his hand as the flight attendants finish their safety demonstrations and the captain informs everyone on the aircraft that their seatbelts must be fastened squashes some of the anxiety burning in your tummy.

Sleep comes easily once you’re in the air, his shoulder making a comfortable headrest as he murmurs sweet nothings into your hair, peppering the occasional kiss as you succumb to your slumber.

You’re gifted vivid memories and flashbacks of their previous night as Colombia becomes a distant blur beneath you both.

[THE EVENING BEFORE]

He gripped your thigh the entire drive back to your apartment building, refusing to let go for a single second. It was almost like he feared you’d float away or drift away from his reach if he dared to.

“Stay with me tonight,” he pleaded as the car approached your building as if you’d ever consider spending the night alone after silently confessing that you’d follow him anywhere.

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly, your stomach twisting at the desperation that dripped off each word he muttered to you. It was hard to not plead with him to tell you what you could do to quench the anxiety that was clearly consuming him, but you couldn’t find the words. So you rested your hand on top of his hand that was squeezing your thigh, returning the favour by squeezing three times.

He parked his Jeep in its usual spot, immediately jumping out from the drivers side and rounding the car to open your door. His hand found yours straight away as he helped you out and led you up the steps towards the door.

“Do you need to get anything from yours?” he asked as he unlocked the door and you simply shook your head. He hummed in response before pulling you towards his apartment.

The second you were inside he finally felt comfortable enough to let your hand go, but not before bringing it to his lips and placing a gentle kiss on it. He poured a large glass of whiskey for himself and poured an equally large glass of wine for you before walking over and pressing his lips to yours.

“They won’t take long cancelling our visas,” he said with a shrug followed by a gulp of his drink.

“It probably would be wise to leave before that happens,” you mumbled back before gulping down your wine, “I don’t think it’s wise to wait around until it happens.”

You watched as he rolled his jaw, his teeth biting down into his lip as if to stop himself from speaking.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen next,” you admitted with a twist of your lips, “But I do know that I'm not ready to say goodbye to you, Javier.”

Two words fell from his lips before he was crashing towards you, his lips possessively covered yours as his tongue pushed its way inside your mouth. His hand pressed against the back of your head as he continued kissing you and his other hand rested on the small of your back. ‘Then don’t.’

You smiled against his mouth as your fingers searched for the buttons on his shirt, as usual he’d left the top few unfastened… something you were grateful for as it meant getting him undressed quicker.

He tugged at your shirt before pulling you towards his bedroom and you took the hint and immediately pulled it off. By the time you’d got to the end of hall, you’d both left a line of discarded garments and were only wearing your underwear.

“Get on the bed,” he growled against your lips and you happily obeyed.

You couldn’t count the amount of times you’d found yourself in his bed over the past six months or so. The first time it had happened you both promised yourselves that it was a one off and would never happen again. And then that very same evening he had fucked you so hard into the mattress that you were boneless for the rest of the night.

You never discussed stopping again. Instead you gave into all of the urges and the tension and the yearning. Being snuggled up against his warm chest every night simply became routine. The only thing that hadn’t happened was a much needed discussion about what you are to each other. Both of you secretly terrified that it was just a fling of convenience so you both refused to bring it up.

“Take off your panties and spread your legs for me,” he ordered as he watched you from the doorframe, his boxers pooled at the bottom of his feet as he languidly stroked on his cock.

You lifted your hips and rolled your panties down your legs kicking them off the edge of the bed before opening your legs. Arousal had spread throughout your folds and down your legs, your pussy glistening in the streaks of light creeping in through the crack in the curtains.

“Fuck,” he muttered as he slowly made his way towards you, “So fucking pretty.” His hand slowly glided up and down his cock as he kneeled between your legs, “Rub that pretty little clit for me, baby.”

Obeying his command your fingertips circled your bud of pleasure as you kept your focus on his hand. The sight of him stroking his cock was one you could never tire of, the soft grunts he let spill from his mouth as he squeezed his hand up and down himself were enough to make you cum alone.

You quickened the pace on your clit as he moved forward, gently nudging your hand away as he dragged the tip of his cock through your folds. Bringing it back up to tap in on your clit a few times before lining himself up to your entrance and sliding in. He pushed himself in slowly, taking a few seconds to let you adjust to the heft of him and once he’d filled you to the hilt he pressed a kiss on your lips and started rocking his hips.

Every roll of his hips was in perfect rhythm, his cock dragging against that spot inside of you without fail every time. Reducing you to a whimpering mess beneath him, keening at every drop of praise he lathered in you as he effortlessly pulled your first orgasm from you. Grunting in delight as you flooded his cock with your cum. “So perfect for me,” he mumbled as his thumb found your clit, drawing perfect circles as he continued to thrust in and out of your heat.

“Let’s make that pretty pussy cum again,” he gritted out as his pace fastens and every punch of his hips threatens to knock the wind out of you.

“Javier,” you chanted over and over as your hands grabbed at the sheets beneath you. His never ending stream of praises filled your ears as you clenched down hard around him as the stimulation on your clit became too much and not enough all at once. You came with a scream of his name.

Half a dozen thrusts later and Javier followed suit, pulling out and coating your swollen clit with thick warm ropes of his seed.

“Fuck,” he muttered as he watched the soft rise and fall of your chest as your came down from your high. He allowed himself a few minutes to take in the sight of you, sated, coated with a thin sheen of sweat and dripping with both of your arousal.

By the time he pulled himself away to get a damp cloth to clean you up with you were snuggled up against his pillow and dreaming peacefully.

[END OF FLASHBACK]

You woke with a jump, the flight attending announcing your imminent arrival sending a shock throughout you.

Javier’s hand tightened around yours as he chuckled at how adorable you looked with an expression of shock and annoyance splashed across your face at being disturbed from your peaceful sleep.

“I slept the whole flight?” you asked as you nuzzled your head into his shoulder.

“Pretty much,” he said back before pressing a kiss to your scalp, “Clearly needed it.”

You hummed gently in agreement before gently taking the tumbler of whiskey from his hand and taking a small sip.

“Ready for a new start?” you asked as you handed him back the cup.

“Yeah,” he said back with a slight twist of his lips, “I’m always ready for anything with you by my side.”

[beyoursbb]

Cherry Pie

a continuation of Thunder

boyfriend's dad!joel x fem reader

Summary: it’s another Family Sunday/Movie Night and Joel is not too happy about being teased, so he shows you what happens when you test him 😈

Warnings: 18+ MDNI SMUUUTTTT, pure filth, unprotected piv, fingering, blowjobs, almost getting caught, cheating, orgasm delay, exhibitionism

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: Sorry Jason :( also THE WAY YOU GUYS BLEW UP THUNDER??? I am shocked. I literally started writing 9 fucking days ago. Please enjoy this filth, and if you really like it please comment and reblog ❤️🩷! As always, if you would like to be tagged let me know. Also, please check out my latest chapter of Sweetest Perfection if you haven't yet! Thank you for all of the support 💙 it’s been really encouraging and I’m ecstatic you guys enjoy my writing. It’s scary to put yourself out there, but you guys make it easy 🥰🥲

Masterlist

When you returned home from movie night two weeks ago, you didn’t sleep. How could you do this to Jason, who has been nothing but kind to you? Worse yet, you knew he was saving up for a ring for you. You had talked about it frequently, marriage. You felt ready to take the next step together. 

Well, you did. Until two weeks ago. The truth was, Joel rocked your world in more ways than one. The sex you shared was mind blowing. You’d never felt anything so passionate and breath-taking. But Joel completely shook your relationship with Jason off its axis. The sex was dull and you pulled away from him, skipping the nights you spent cuddling together in bed on the couch and spending them alone instead. Jason did his best to be understanding, but he knew something was bugging you. He tried to cheer you up, grabbing take out from your favorite restaurants on his way home from work, getting you little gifts here and there. It only made you feel worse. 

Jason’s mom wasn’t in the picture. She was, a long time ago. She wasn’t good for Joel and Joel wasn’t good for her. “Cheating,” was all Jason said when you’d asked. 

It was Nick who told you what really happened. Her name was Charlotte. She and Joel fought for the duration of most of their childhoods, Joel would fuck up, say something shitty and she’d leave for days on end. Once, when Jason was a teenager, Charlotte had left after a particularly horrible fight and stayed with her roommate from college. When she returned, Joel admitted to an affair he had with a client. Charlotte left Joel for good that day.

You didn’t talk to Jason about it. If he wanted to talk to you about it, he would. He told you it took a long time to finally trust his father again, and he still didn’t sometimes. He misses his mom, he said. But he understands why she did what she did. Charlotte always kept in touch and did her best to be a mother, but she just couldn’t take any more of Joel’s cruel dishonesty.

Ironically, what ripped the Miller family apart is what started family Sundays. Joel had sincerely apologized to everyone. He wanted to start fresh. Joel began making amends with his family, spending quality time with each and every one of his boys. Within a few years, Joel had earned good graces with his family again. He changed, he was a family man now. 

It was a one time thing, you told yourself. You knew Joel wouldn’t tell, not after everything with Charlotte. You wouldn’t either. You were going to forget it ever happened.

You should have known it was a dumb idea. You couldn’t keep your eyes peeled away from Joel for more than a second at a time. He was wearing a Prince t-shirt that squeezed tightly around his massive biceps and a pair of battered jeans. He looked fucking fantastic.  

In the kitchen, you’d asked Jason for a glass of water. “I got it, hon,” Joel said, reaching for a glass cup from the cupboard. Some sugared cherries sat bubbling on the stove as he was kneading some dough for his pie crust. Joel was making you another cherry pie, special and just for you, he told you. “Ice, no ice?” “Uh, i-ice, please,” you stuttered out. When Joel filled your glass and handed it to you, your fingers touched for a second and you pulled back, startled by the sparks his touch created. His touch triggered the memories of your evening in the motel to come flooding back to you. The glass fell and shattered into a million pieces, causing Nick to look up. “Nice goin’ you klutz,” he teased. You forced an uncomfortable laugh. “Sorry,” you mumbled.

“Wow, sweetheart. Breakin’ my stuff ?” This asshole. Your eyes shot Joel a warning look. He just smiled back at you, sickeningly sweet. “I’m just teasin’ you, hon, that’s all.” Joel patted your shoulder and squeezed gently, the action too friendly. Maybe you were making too much of this. Joel probably thought it was a mistake too, knew it wouldn’t happen again. He was just trying to be cordial and move on, right? Get it together, you told yourself. 

“Yeah, sweetheart. Breakin’ his stuff?” Nick said jokingly to you. When you met his eyes, he had a look on his face you couldn’t quite place. You looked at him in confusion and surprise, and he cocked an eyebrow at you. Did he know something? No, there’s no way. This is just who Nick is. He likes to tease and get under your skin, just like he always has. When he’d tease you before you really got to know him, Jason had said that’s just how Nick is, he doesn’t mean anything by it. You’re just acting paranoid. You just smiled shyly at him, then turned your attention to the glass on the floor. 

You got up from your seat at the counter to grab the broom and dustpan from the supply closet, but Joel took the supplies from you. “Don’t worry about it sweetheart, I’ll take care of it,” Joel insisted. He swept up your mess and threw it away, then helped you to a new glass of water. This time, placing it in front of you and not in your hand. Your body was on fire, you were burning from the inside out. You took a sip of the icy liquid and willed yourself to calm down.

Forty five minutes later, Nick, Chris, and their families left for the day, leaving you, Dylan, Jason, and Joel. It’s your turn to pick a movie and dinner, so you chose “The Silence of the Lambs” and Thai food. 

“Are you my helper again tonight, my darlin’?” Joel asks you with a shake of his keys. Darling. That’s a new one, you thought.

“You know it,” you replied with an eager smile. You had been ogling him all day, remembering how his skin felt on yours and the way his beard scratched your thighs. Fuck a one time thing. You never needed a man so carnally. He winked at you and told you to meet him in the truck.

You expected, hoped for a little dirty talk or maybe getting handsy with Joel in his truck, but were met with nothing. He just talked and talked about his week, the new show he’s been watching, how the sandwich shop screwed up his order. Was he doing this on purpose? He didn’t utter a single word about the motel. 

The whole drive, nothing. Not one word about the motel, not one word about sex, no hand on your thigh. And it was fucking turning you on. If Joel wanted to play hard to get with you, he could. You would do much worse to him. It wasn’t until after he grabbed the take out that you decided to go in for the kill. You slid over to him on the bench seat of his truck and started nipping at the skin of his jaw. 

“What’s all the kissin’ for?” Joel asked casually, not breaking his stare from the road. He wasn’t surprised, he didn’t push you off. It’s almost as if he knew that refusing to acknowledge what happened would drive you insane. He definitely planned this.

You rubbed his thigh for a moment then palmed his crotch. You felt his cock harden under your hand. “It’s ‘cause I’ve needed you all day. And you haven’t touched me, you haven’t done anything,”

“It’s family day. You wanted me to touch you in front of everyone?” he teased you. 

“I needed something, anything. And the entire time we’ve been in this truck all you’ve done is talk. You could have done anything to me,” you whispered, rubbing his bulge. 

“Is that so, darlin’? Anything?” he taunted. 

You nodded. “What ever you wanted, Joel,”

“That’s the problem with your generation, sweetheart. You can’t wait for nothin’. Instant gratification has poisoned your mind,” he sighed dramatically. 

“Fuck off,” you growled at him. You moved then, swiftly unbuckling his belt and jeans and taking his cock out. You begin stroking him, staring right into his eyes that were focused on the road ahead. “I need to touch you now.”

“We’re five minutes from home, baby. Wait,” Joel gripped your wrist. 

You ignored him. Instead, you knelt on the floor of the truck and began licking the tip of his cock, smearing his pearl of precum with your tongue. You took him into your mouth then and watched his grip on the wheel tighten, knuckles bone white. He wanted to fuck with you, and now you’re gonna do it right back to him. 

“Honey,” he choked out. “You don’t know what you’re gettin’ yourself into.”

Two minutes away now. You’re making this absolute torture for him. You cupped his balls in your hand and massaged them gently as you licked a long stripe from the bottom of his shaft up to the tip. You were determined to keep him on the edge, never quite giving enough. You pressed a few kisses to his cock, and then parted your lips over his cock, the wet heat of your mouth enveloping him tightly. You bobbed your head a few times until you felt him brake. Doing your best ‘fuck me’ eyes, you pulled off of him with a pop. He groaned at the loss. 

“Now look at what you fuckin’ did. Why’d you start somethin’ you didn’t finish?” Joel sighs, frustrated. 

You lean over the seat and grab the takeout, beaming at him. 

Joel exhaled in disappointment. “I was plannin’ something real special for you, you know. Real nice. Don’t know if you still deserve it anymore,” he shrugged, shaking his head slightly. There was not an ounce of playfulness in his tone. You knew he was deadly serious. The smirk falls right off your face at his harsh words. Was it too much, your teasing? 

“Joel, I’m sorry, I was just–”

“Tsk. Thought you were my good girl, honey.” he said, discontented. He left then, walked around his truck and opened the door for you. You were met with a darkened expression, eyes full of lust and crimson on his cheeks and neck. A vein bulged from his forehead slightly. Joel said nothing as he took your hand and helped you out, squeezing your bones too hard and hurting you. It was a warning of what was to come. 

The Thai was delicious as always. The movie was also good, being one of your all time favorites. Unfortunately, no one else seemed to be interested in the film except for you and Joel. Jason fell asleep shortly after eating, like usual. He was stretched out on the longer sofa, shirt rode up his torso and exposed his tummy slightly. Dylan didn’t seem to care for the movie much and went upstairs to play more video games. So that left you and Joel on the loveseat.

Joel wore his poker face once more that night. He was his regular charming self to you, serving you food and taking your dishes away. His hand mindlessly played with your bare thighs, leaving goosebumps in its wake. 

“Cold, sweetheart?” he asked you. You nodded in response. Joel reached over his head, grabbing a fleece tied blanket you made him for Christmas one year and draping it over your legs. It was solid blue on one side and the other was patterned with illustrations of dogs riding surfboards. You’d thought he would like it, and he did. He told you that Christmas it was his new favorite blanket. “That better?”

“Yeah, thank you,” you sighed. 

Joel continued dragging his fingers up and down your skin under the blanket now, inching closer and closer to where you needed him most. You were so wet from the truck ride earlier and he was only worsening it. You were sure there was a wet spot way beyond your panties, probably soaking into the skirt of your dress. When his fingers finally reached the apex of your thighs, you looked at him in concern. “What are you doing?” you whispered. 

“Just watchin’ the movie,” he replied, not even looking at you. He continued playing with your mound like that for a bit. Toying with you just where you wanted, but not exactly. 

Your body moved on its own, completely disconnected from your mind. You keened into his touch, trying to encourage him to dip his fingers between your lips. “Joel,” you whispered. 

He finally looked at you. Your eyes were pleading, brows furrowed in frustration. “You need something? More water?” he asked as he finally delved into your slickness, swirling his thick fingers around your skin. 

Your eyes widened in surprise and he mirrored your expression right back to you, mocking you. The words were trapped in your throat. “Spread your legs wider for me now, baby. That’s it,” he whispered to you, nudging your thighs apart. “Now here’s how this will work. You’re gonna keep watching the movie I rented just for you, and I’m gonna play with your pretty pussy some more, however I want.” his breath tickled your ear deliciously. 

You could only nod desperately in response. You scooted closer to him, grinding your pussy into his hand. 

“You stay quiet now. Don’t wake up Jason. You’re gonna take what I give you, and you’re not gonna ask for more. I’m bein’ awful nice to you right now, considering the little stunt you pulled in my truck. You understand me?”

“Yes Joel,” you barely squeaked out. That was all the permission he required to continue touching you. He pushed one finger inside you so very slowly and watched as you inhaled deeply, trying to keep your composure. You tried your best to focus on Clarise and Dr. Hannibal Lecter on the screen, but you couldn’t avert your eyes from the steady motion of Joel’s hand under the blanket.

Joel kept a steady eye on the environment surrounding you both while working his middle finger inside you. Jason was dead to the world and softly snoring, every once in a while he’d stir a little. Feeling comfortable enough to push you further, Joel inserted a second finger and continued. 

It felt good, yes. Manageable. You were keeping still and quiet just like he told you to. But Joel wasn’t satisfied with that, he needed to push you to the limit.  “You tortured me and I’m gonna do it right back to you,” he threatened, voice dark and serious. 

He began curling his fingers upward inside you at a punishing speed. Not too fast, not too slow, as he brushed the spongy spot that made your head spin. You whimpered quietly, then brought your palm to your mouth and bit the flesh to keep the sounds at bay. 

All you needed was a little attention on your needy clit and you’d be relieved of this agony. Joel knew that, but he just wasn’t going to give it to you. He watched you writhe and wiggle under his touch in wicked delight.

Feigning sympathy for you, he furrowed his brows. “Poor thing. Teasin’ don’t feel too nice, hmm?”

“Please, Joel,” you whined in a whisper.

“Ah ah, what’d I say? You take what I give you, don’t be askin’ for more,” he chided you. 

Joel continued his ministrations and you did your best to hold it together, but you were aching and about to lose it. And then, Joel stopped. He pulled his hand right out of your pants and brought his glistening fingers up to his lips. Smirking at you, he licked and sucked each one.

You exhaled deeply, and turned your attention away from him and to the TV. This wasn’t fair. When you sucked his cock in the truck, you weren’t being this punishing. Well, maybe you were. Either way, it was cruel, what Joel was doing to you. Make you squirm and keep quiet right in front of your sleeping boyfriend. You ground your teeth in anger.

After watching the movie for a few more minutes, Joel stretched in his seat and stood up, pulling the blanket off of you both. He held out a hand for you to take. “Come on. I want a slice of pie. Don’t you?” he asked you sweetly, as if he wasn’t knuckle deep in your pussy just minutes ago. . 

You glared at him but took his hand anyway. He helped you up, then led you to the kitchen. You stood at the counter, watching the TV from a long distance as you heard the opening and closing of cabinets and Joel ruffling through the silverware drawer. He cut two pieces of cherry pie and plated each of them, leaving them on the counter behind you. You would enjoy those later. 

Joel tiptoed behind you and brought his hand to your mouth, muffling your surprised gasp. “Quiet, honey. I’m gonna fuck you now,” he purred in your ear, making your pussy flutter and clench around nothing. “You still want this, right baby?” he asked as he gripped your hips with his big hands. “We can stop whenever you need to. Just say the word.” Your heart melted a bit at that. You loved his sexy and domineering demeanor, but you appreciated the out he gave you. Despite fucking his son’s girlfriend, he was still a good man. He didn’t want to make you do something you didn’t actually want. He didn’t want to push you farther than what you’re comfortable with. “Please,” you rasped out, giving him permission. “I need you, Joel.”

That was all the permission he needed. He pulled your panties off and worked himself out of his pants in one swift motion, lifted up your skirt and entered you without warning. Thank god he still held his hand over your mouth, or you would have screamed. He pulled all the way out and pushed all the way in, a slow and brutal pace. You relished in the feeling of being filled but needed more. 

“Oh sweetheart,” he sighed, his thighs slapping your ass. “You don’t know how badly I’ve missed your pussy.”

“I missed you too, Joel,” you breathed. 

Joel fucked you like that for awhile, both of you quietly panting. Joel grunted every now and then as he muffled your moans. The hand that wasn’t on your mouth left your hips and traveled across your torso, pulling down the top of your dress and letting your breasts spill over. As he groped you and pinched your nipples, he kept a steady eye on Jason asleep on the couch. Your eyes screwed shut, blood rushing through your head. All you knew was Joel as your fingers gripped the edge of the counter.

“Look, baby,” he encouraged you to open your eyes and turn your head towards the large window. You watched your tits bounce with each of his thrusts, then watched as he once again pulled all the way out before slamming back into you. It was the most sinful thing you’d ever seen or experienced. 

That alone nearly pushed you off the edge. As quietly and subtly as you could, you removed one of your hands from the edge of the counter and moved it between your thighs, fingers just about to brush your clit as Joel caught your wrist and held it behind you, then grabbed your other. Your cheek was smushed into the counter as he pounded your wet heat. “You really don’t listen, do you?”

“I’m sorry,” you rasped out. “I’m sorry Joel.”

“I know you are, honey,” his breath tickled your ear. “You’ve been doin’ so good for me, I know it’s hard. Just let me fuck you like this for a little longer.”

You nodded with your face on the counter, tears pricking your eyes. It’s misery, Joel playing with your pussy for this long with no release. But then, he pulls out of you and sits you on the counter. He pulls your hips close to his and enters you again.

You share a look and his eyes aren’t darkened with lust or anger anymore. He looks at you with love and adoration, so proud of you for handling this so well. There’s something else in his gaze too, almost longing and wistful. He’s done making you suffer now, he just wants to watch you fall apart on him.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and tug at the fabric of his worn out shirt. He pulls you even closer to him and you nuzzle your face into his neck as he fucks you, still hard but a little more gentle now. He smells like sweat and aftershave, a brutally delicious aroma.

He knows how badly you need to come and he can feel his own release beginning to build. He snakes a hand between your bodies, putting gentle pressure on your throbbing bud. 

It’s almost enough, you’re almost there. You grip him harder, fingernails digging into his shoulders. He increases the pressure on your clit and begins to circle it. 

That’s all you needed. You bite into his neck and whimper out his name as your pussy clenches around his cock. It’s a different orgasm than the last one you shared with him, slower and more intense, the way a pot of water boils. Slow, at first. The gentle simmer transitions into a rapid bubble, until the blazing frothy water spills over the sides of the pot and the flames underneath sizzle and glow. 

He’s almost there, begging you to let him keep fucking you. He knows it’s too much, your overworked pussy can’t handle much more stimulation. “You’re doin’ so good, so good,” he praises you as your tears spill down his neck. “You’re my good girl.”

 He cups the area behind your knees and pushes your thighs back, and fucks you for just a little longer before feeling his own orgasm spill into you. You savor the feeling of his pulsing cock, painting you with thick ropes of come. 

You stay like that for a moment, holding onto each other before something disrupts you. It’s Jason, sitting up on the couch and squinting in your direction. He’s not wearing his glasses and you thank god he’s about as blind as a bat. Joel scrambles off of you, his spend spilling out of your cunt and down your thighs as he grabs your panties from the floor. He helps you into them as he hands you a paper towel to clean yourself up. 

Quickly hopping off the counter, you discard the paper towel and stand by the sink. Joel fumbles around the kitchen some more and hands you your pie. Finally, Jason meets you. His eyes are bloodshot and glassy, he’s groggy and slightly out of it, just like he always is when he wakes up. 

“What are you guys doing?” he asks with a yawn. 

“Helpin’ your lady to a slice of pie,” Joel responds cooly, as if he wasn’t just inside of you. “We just needed a little snack. Would you like ice cream with that, darlin’?” he asks you with his eyebrows raised. 

“No, thank you. Just the pie,” you stutter out. 

“Can I have ice cream, Dad?” Jason asks. “I don’t know, can you?” Joel replies with a cocky expression. He can fuck you like a god, but still can’t resist a good dad joke. 

Jason helps himself to a bowl of vanilla ice cream before making his way back to his spot on the couch. He stops to kiss you on the cheek, your eyes widening as you look at Joel. He says nothing, just raises an eyebrow slightly, playing dumb. You shove a bite of cherry pie in your mouth, the sweet flavor and tartness dancing on your tongue. You pick up your plate and turn to follow Jason, but Joel stops you. He grabs your upper arm and you stumble towards him. 

“Call me tomorrow when Jason’s at work, okay?” he asks you with his voice low.“Gotta talk to you about that surprise.”

You nod and sit back down on the loveseat with Joel. Jason is spread out on the couch again, this time wide awake and focused on Buffalo Bill dancing to “Goodbye Horses”.

Joel takes your empty plate from your hands and looks at you affectionately, his eyes darting to your lips. He glances to make sure Jason can’t see, then brings his thumb to your mouth, wiping off some cherry filling from your lips as he brings it to his own, pushing the cherry red sweetness inside. Your stomach drops in arousal and you try to hide your grin as Joel takes the dishes to the sink and begins washing them. The sound of rushing water and clattering silverware fills your ears as your mind replays the night, over and over and over.

Part 3

tags: @swiftispunk @rosaliedepp @pedrotonin @kittenlittle24 @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @brittmb115 @bigboiseason123 @laysmt @venusdemonroe @guiltgoldglory @aubreysylvain @leeeesahhh @oliveg95 @ifall4dilfs @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @harriedandharassed @vickie5546 @louisxosblog @southernbe @ravenouswild @luvrking @r02eg0ld @amythenortherner @imnotyourbcbe

[beyoursbb]

She Way Out

Summary: You and Billy get drunk one night and have a one night stand.

Pairings: Butcher x Reader

Warnings: My first-ever smut, be warned. 18+ 

Keep reading

[beyoursbb]

Hi! I'm slowly becoming obsessed with you 😍😍😍

Could I request: Jealous, Possessive Billy Butcher (Or any Karl Urban character really....) with a size kink? Like small, really small (I'm 4'11 and 26 if that helps? Like that's the kind of shit I'm looking for from a 6'1 kiwi)

Ooooh and if you could work in the trope, "I hope you know I love you, because I'm about to fuck you like I don't." 🥵🥵🥵 I don't know why that makes me so fucking hot.

PAIRING: Billy Butcher x Short!Fem!Reader

UNIVERSE: The Boys

WORDS: 344

SUMMARY/PROMPT: See above <3

Trigger Warning(s): Jealousy | Possessiveness | Size Kink | Implied Smut | PLEASE TELL ME IF I FORGOT ANYTHING!!! I want to make sure readers are fully aware of what they are getting themselves into when they read this…

NOTE: Sorry if this isn't what you expected, I'm hoping this finds you well love!

IMAGE CREDIT: Google I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP OF THESE IMAGES. If these are yours or you know who the creator(s) is please INBOX me and let me know. Thank you.

My Master Masterlist | Taglist

REQUESTS: 500 FOLLOWER EVENT REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN UNTIL AUGUST 15TH!

He loves 'em short. You love 'em tall; that's just how it goes. The taller, the better, but him, there was something about a girl who was almost five foot. Some say it was strange- others understood. The idea of manhandling someone that size was such a need for him. He knew you loved that side of him, so win-win, right?

He had taken you out for dinner. He had left to take care of a bit of business, only to come back to the waiter flirting with you. His jaw clenched and he looked over the man and shook his head.

"I find it wise you move along." He gives a low growl.

"Oh, you're with someone?" He asked you.

"Yes, that's by boyfriend." Nodding, you look over his face and chuckle.

"And a pissed off one at that, I suggest you fuck off now." Billy clenches his jaw.

"Kiwi, relax, it was harmless, he was just being nice." You tell him sweetly.

"He was flirting with you." He tells you and looks over to the waiter and licks his lips a moment. "I suggest you find another table to wait on."

"This is my zone..." He defends himself.

"And do you want to work your zone with a foot in your ass? No? I didn't think so. Bugger off." Billy demands.

Looking over him, you let out a slight chuckle, shaking your head.

"I fuckin love you." You chuckle.

After dinner, he takes you home and looks over your face licking his lips he picks you up and places you on the counter. Looking deep into your eyes he smirks.

"So, Small Bite, tell me, what do you enjoy the most about me?"

Licking your lips, you grab his belt loops. "How you fill me."

"How I fill you, huh? That's it?"

"It's how you fill me." You smirk.

He looks over your face. "I hope you know I love you, because I'm about to fuck you like I don't." He smirks.

"Fill me up, baby." You smirk with an excited giggle.

[beyoursbb]

It’s a long shot for this request but I love your style son going to ask!!!

Frankie and f!reader are in a long term relationship, no kids. He has been home and decommissioned for a while and is really enjoying civie life. Reader keeps him happy in the bedroom and well fed and stuffed with his favorite foods in the kitchen. Over time, the guys begin to notice Frankie is getting a fuller frame/bigger belly (cloths fitting not the same) and Frankie notices that reader really likes the extra Frankie she has on her hands now. Maybe he’s a little self conscious at first, but begins to enjoy his new figure.

Thoughts???

Well Fed

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Summary: After he moves in with your neighbors, you take an interest in showing Frankie how good life can be.

Rating: Explicit 18+ (By proceeding to read beyond this warning, you are agreeing that you are 18 years or older)

Content Warning: Explicit Smut (oral, size kink, feral Frankie), references to food, weight, self esteem

——————

The first time you laid eyes on Frankie Morales had been at a neighborhood block party in the middle of summer, his tall frame hovering at the perimeter near two of his friends and his face looking as if he wanted to be anywhere but there.

Baggy shirt tucked under an oversized tan jacket, jeans that hung loose on his hips, scruffy stubble over a sharp jaw… Nearly everything about him made you think that he’d gone without for far too long, although his eyes were what kept you glancing his way out of the corner of your own. Unable to stop watching their anxious searching while he gripped the arms crossed against his chest tighter.

“Hey, who is that? With Will and Benny?” you asked your nosy neighbor who lived next door to them, confident that she would know something about him and, of course, she had.

God, only knew what she knew about you.

“Frankie,” she said. “Although sometimes they call him Catfish. Not sure why.”

A joke about how he certainly looked like a fish out of water came to mind but you kept it to yourself as she continued.

“Cute, right? He moved in with them a few weeks ago,” she told you. “Nothing but a duffle bag. Clearly been through something. My money is on a divorce.”

Perhaps sensing his audience, Frankie looked over in your direction, his eyes locking with yours when you gave him a small smile that you hoped didn’t communicate, “Why yes I was just talking about you.”

Granted… you had admitted to it later. Just like he had admitted to asking about you, too. The confession tumbling out after you already knew him well enough to know that he hadn’t just been through something but some things.

Divorce. Ex-military. Recovery.

Enough that it had taken him a while to trust himself to build something new with you and not break it. To let dinner and a movie at your house turn into nights where he didn’t go home. To let you become his new home.

Two years after you first laid eyes on Frankie Morales, his truck is now parked in its spot in the driveway, his hat hanging on a hook by the door, his steps making their way down the hall and into the bedroom you share.

When you see him walk in, you smile, setting your book to the side before he crawls into bed and tugs you against his side. Once he’s comfortable, he lets out a content sigh as he starts to stroke your back and tilts his head to brush his lips against your forehead.

“How was it?” you ask him as you curl around him possessively and look up towards his face. “Fun? Did you have dinner?”

“I will,” he murmurs to you with a smile, liking when you fuss over him. Especially when it involves food. “It was good. I won a few hands… although Benny seems to be of the opinion that I’m getting soft.”

You grin. “Good.”

“Yeah?” he asks, turning over as you make room for him between your legs and let him brace himself above you. “I thought you might say that.”

Your hands run over his chest and shoulders, over the way his shirt pulls taut over his arms and the small swell of his stomach. Greedily and happily feeling the evidence beneath your palms of a man who no longer goes without as you slide your fingers beneath the snug waistband of his jeans.

“What did you say to him?” you ask Frankie, enjoying the way his eyes close and he hums at your touch. “Did you tell him that you’re perfect?”

Frankie grins. “I told him that my girl has a thing for being pressed down into the mattress as she gets fucked, and I’m just trying to make sure she’s satisf— ”

He laughs as you pinch his side, fixing him with a glare that says he better not have though it softens when he starts kissing you. Moving from your mouth to your neck to your chest after kneeling briefly between your legs and tugging off your shirt and his. 

“Don’t worry. I didn’t tell him that, though doesn’t mean it’s not true,” Frankie teases you just before he settles back on top of you, holding you in place with his size before he moves to drag the flat of his tongue across one of your nipples, grazing it with his teeth and sucking on it until it’s a hardened slick point. Then he switches to the other and starts all over again.

As he does it, you moan, your fingers going to his dark brown curls and your hips trying to arch up against the weight of him. 

“So good for me, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your skin and shifts lower, the whiskers of his overgrown beard scratching against your abdomen though not in a way that you mind. “Going to let me have you for a bit?”

You nod, spreading your legs wider to accommodate the breadth of his shoulders as he moves lower and smiling at the way he groans when he sees what he likely already suspected. His fingertips skim over where your underwear should be, the soft skin already bare for him. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, using his thumbs to part you so he can look at you. And you know he’s seeing that you’re already wet from thinking about him coming home. “So good to let me eat this pretty pussy.”

“You know, that isn’t what I meant when I — ” Your sentence breaks off on a gasp as you feel his tongue take its first pass through your center, the words breathy when you manage, “This isn’t what I meant when I asked if you — if you had dinner.”

He grunts, tugging you closer to his mouth and tilting your hips just so. He kisses your clit sweetly before he tells you simply, “It’s what I meant though, baby.”

He adjusts you again, this time so that your legs are draped over each of his shoulders, your feet bracing against his broad back as his mouth returns to you. Then his fingers.

He doesn’t let you up until you’re close to begging for it, and when he does it’s only to flip you onto your stomach. Line himself up from behind while his other hand slips beneath you and back between your legs, easing you through the initial stretch that always came with taking him.

When you’re ready, he fucks you just as he had been right to say you liked, just as he knows you like because he’s the one that figured out that you did. Uncovering all your secrets just as you had his.

“That’s it. There you go,” he encourages as you clench tight around him, so close to coming again that you know he can feel it, too. Holding you down with the span of his hand against your upper back while he gives it to you. “Come on, baby. Come on. That’s it. Need you to.”

When you let go, he does, too. Leaning forward so that his chest is against your back and letting you feel his heart race as he nips at the nape of your neck.

You whine as you tremble, and you can feel him grin again before he turns you back over, gentler this time now that the sharp edge of need has abated. Or so you think. He brushes his lips against your forehead again, soothing you before he settles right back between your legs. His fingertips trail through your combined release before he pushes it back inside, cleans up the rest with his tongue. Knowing you’ll let him have as much as he wants. You always do, love being the one who sates all his needs just as he does yours.

[beyoursbb]

Belong to You

Frankie Morales x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

Word count: 3k

Warnings: smut (18+ ONLY!), CNC (consensual non consent), rough sex, unprotected sex, established relationship, aftercare

Notes: Please be aware of the warnings before reading this one!! I know it’s not going to be for everyone! But everything that happens here is completely consensual and it explicitly stated so. It’s been so long since I’ve written a cnc and I feel like it works so well for Frankie too!! I really enjoyed writing this one so I hope y’all enjoy reading it!!

If you’d like to be added to my taglist, the google form is on my masterlist! Feel free to also follow my update blog and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on when I post @flightlessangelwings-updates​

~

Frankie Morales was the best boyfriend and partner you could ever ask for. He was kind, caring and extremely handsome. And although he had told you about his darker side that came out when he had been deployed, he was very careful to never show it to you. However, you had a secret: you actually wanted to have a taste of what darker Frankie was like. So, when you noticed that he had a string of bad days, you came up with an idea that would benefit both of you.

While the two of you rested together in each other’s arms, you spoke up, “Frankie, there’s something I want to ask you to do, and I think it’ll really help you too.”

He looked at you with those big brown eyes that you loved so much and his expression immediately softened from the stoic and hard look that became etched into his features over the past few days, “Anything you want, baby,” he gave you a tight squeeze with his words.

Keep reading

[beyoursbb]

obsession ~ billy butcher;the boys

word count: 2671

request?: no

description: his sudden obsession with the seven’s newest supe comes to a head when he meets up with her with the intentions of a fight

pairing: billy butcher x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (reader’s hands are restrained, choking, unprotected p in v, billy claiming the reader as his sexually if that makes sense, the reader calls butcher daddy at one point), mentions of violence (butcher and reader get into a fight before the sex)

masterlist (one, two, three)

Keep reading

[beyoursbb]

my dear vee

i’m sorry to hear you’re having a rough time. i’m sending lots of love to you. plus healing and recovery and peaceful vibes.

to contrast the peaceful vibes, if it helps, i just wanted to answer your request for thots with the thing i think about maybe at least twice a day. which is.,,,,, and i always get bashful typing this shit out,,,,

joel miller taking u against a wall. bending u over a counter. he’s fully clothed ur fully undressed type vibe. a lil rough but like just stupidly loving. inundated with praise while being railed within an inch of ur life. you know.

id like some sort of cowboy to just help me empty my brain. just something to think about.

love u and if there’s anything i can do, i’m here!!! love deedee

DEEDEE MY SPARKLING CHAMPAGNE DIAMOND ✨ i don't know what tumblr did with your ask because i'm just now seeing it but i aM FROTHING

joel miller x afab!reader (nsfw 18+, 580 words, rough sex, p in v, desperate "i can't lose you" vibes)

"The fuck is wrong with you?" There is a weight to his words, a mix of crushing frustration and terror after your recent smuggling run. Calling it a disaster would be an understatement; it was an absolute shit show.

You and Joel are lucky to still be alive, but the bitterness of adrenaline still lingers even hours later. You're still seething, Joel more so than you. It simmers on the surface, hanging around Joel's apartment like a thick cloud of smoke. The right thing to do would be to sit down and talk things through. Like well, adjusted adults. And maybe if you weren't living in a post-cordyceps world you'd do just that.

But there is a lot of other shit you would do if the outbreak never happened. So instead, you and Joel let it fester, only allowing it to surface with obvious eye rolls from him and aggressive quips from you. It's the reason you're in your current position — naked and wet from your shower with a pissed off and clothed Joel bending you over the bathroom sink.

You grip the sides of the sink, holding yourself steady as Joel pushes you until your forehead is pressing against the dirty mirror in front of you. With your breath fogging up your reflection, you grit out, "I saved your life."

He replies with a sarcastic snort, notching his cock at your wet entrance. "You were reckless. You could've died."

"But I didn't — fuck!"

Your reply is cut off when he pushes inside of you. He doesn't stop until he's bottomed out, the feeling of fullness making you gasp as he sets a steady and harsh rhythm.

It's good this way.

Really fucking good. You don't need sweet and gentle, you need this gloom gone. You need to be twisted and squeezed, wrung out like a wet rag. You both do. Every hard thrust of his cock seems to reverberate through your body, shaking off the frustration.

Despite what Joel believes, the risk you took was deliberate and calculated. You weren't a reckless idiot, you just understood the situation. With Joel cornered by a group of infected, you had to draw their attention. And you did. Sure, it was stupid, but it worked, no matter how much Joel wishes it didn't.

Whining your name, he pulls you back until your back is pressed against his chest. Locking an arm around your chest, he keeps you in place. You're pressed against him, joined to him, close to him.

Safe with him.

"I could've lost you," He's babbling behind you, breathless and panting, but forcing the words out between hard thrusts. "You'd be gone right now. That what you want? Huh? Wanna end up mindless and infected?"

You shake your head as he buries his nose in your hair, his lips moving against your ear as he slips his other hand down to play with your clit. It's then that your legs start to shake, your climax drawing closer by the moment.

"I can't lose you. I fucking can't. Alright? You understand? Tell me you understand." He presses his fingers harder against your clit, demanding your answer as the fierce ache of your approaching orgasm shakes you down.

"I do. J—Joel, fuck, I’m—”

You’re trying to warn him, the ecstasy in relief looming over you as you try to keep the crest of ecstasy from crashing.

"Then prove it. Come for me. C'mon, show me you're still here. I wanna feel you."

[beyoursbb]

Still With Me

Summary: You’re putty in Butcher’s hands…

Pairing: Billy Butcher (The Boys) x Female Reader (Y/N used)

Word Count: 434

Ratings/Warnings: M for Mature, E for Explicit. Smutty drabble.

Author’s note: I have been driving myself crazy here recently with needing to post something about my latest obsession with Butcher. For real, he haunts my dreams. This is my first write for Billy Butcher and first smutty drabble. Hopefully not horrible. I hope to (eventually) put more writings out here for Butcher.

Thanks to @maysdigitalarts for the banners.

Sweat beaded along your nearly naked body as Butcher’s hand held firmly on your hips, holding you in place as he spread his legs open a little more and widening your legs which had been hooked on the outside of his knees. His free hand slid down in between your legs, softly grazing his fingertips along your lacey covered slit. The wetness pooled there ripped a low growl from the back of his throat as he quickly pulled the soaked gusset to the side, teasing one finger into your quivering sheath. You whimpered, trying to grind down onto his hand for more friction from him as he drew in a sharp breath.

“Fuck, love, yer so wet and tight for me, yeah?” he rasped against the shell of your ear. Everything lower in you clenched against the sensation as goosebumps erupted all over, making the beads of sweat trickle down your skin. Butcher chuckled darkly, his tongue laving along the sensitive skin of your neck as he pushed another finger up into your core. Your head lolled back on his shoulder as you moaned.

“Billy, please,” you whined as he slowly pumped his fingers inside you. He moved his thumb up to graze your clit and you cried out at the added sensation. 

“You like that don’cha?” he breathed, words like warm silk against your ear. You gasped, desperate to move your hips against his hand as you felt the smile curling his lips. He pressed his thumb firmly against the straining numb, circling it tightly as his fingers curled slightly against that sweet spot inside you. You felt as though you would come apart at the seams, a deep rooted feeling coiling tighter and tighter the more he continued his ministrations.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck…” you gasped out. “Billy, right there, right there! Don’t stop!”

He chuckled again against your ear. 

“MMM…cum for me, dahling,” he rasped. Your mouth fell open as you screamed his name, white stars clouding your vision as you’re gushing your release around his fingers. The lewd squelching echoes in the room as Billy works you through your orgasm until you are shaking from the over sensitivity. You sink back against him, panting as you come back to reality. A whimper escapes your lips as he pulls his fingers from your quivering core.

“Are you still with me, love?” he whispers. 

“Mmmmmhmmm,” you hum blissfully.

“Aye.”

You feel him move his hands behind you, the jangling of a belt buckle a giveaway that he’s undoing his jeans.

“Now be a good girl and get on your knees,” he husked against your skin.

[beyoursbb]

Old House

Frankie Morales x F! Reader

Summary: You and Frankie are staying in his childhood room

Warnings: 18+, penetrative and unprotected sex, playful/ giggly sex, established relationship (marriage with a child)

Word Count: 2k

It’s an odd feeling, as an adult, to be standing in your childhood bedroom. A room that had once felt so big and had contained every last thing you owned but now feels far too small to have ever fit the life that swirls inside of you.

You have been in Frankie’s childhood bedroom a handful of times before, hours spent hiding away from family gatherings while you quietly looked through the shelves and drawers as Frankie lay back on the bed and watched you with an amused smile on his face.

The room remains mostly the same every year you are here, sometimes with added boxes of decorations that haven’t been put up to the loft yet or packages that need to be returned. The only major change, one that makes you smile even as you think about it now, is the bare white back of the door.

That first visit home, when his sister was throwing her daughter’s first birthday party in the back garden, Frankie took you up to his room. He held your hand on the way up the stairs, standing back when he opened the door and letting you in first before he closed it over to reveal a very large poster of a very half-naked lady that had you lying on the carpet and screech-laughing as Frankie - red faced and hiding under his hat - pulled it from the door and threw it towards the basket in the corner. He pulled you up from the carpet, tickling your neck with his patchy beard and mumbling a half-hearted “shut up” as you wiped your tears into the shoulder of his shirt.

“I haven’t lived in this room since I was seventeen,” he muttered defensively and you wiped at your eyes.

“At least you have the real thing to look at now,” you said quietly, pressing yourself up against him.

He smiled, some of the embarrassment leaving but his cheeks still flushed pink.

“Oh, and you’re so much better,” he had mumbled against your lips.

On one wall there are shelves with model planes, a few with broken wings from when he had let his younger sisters play with them before realising they were much too delicate for the hands of toddlers.

There are drawers filled with old school books he had never thrown out, the plans of going to study engineering swapped out for the army. You had asked him, on your second visit up here, if he should take some home for the night classes he was applying for in the run up to his retirement and he shook his head with a wry grin, telling you that they were “just a little” out of date.

There are trophies for swimming and football, school yearbooks and half-filled notebooks. Photos of a young and bare-faced Frankie with Santiago and the Millers and other friends he lost contact with years before you came into his life. There are report cards and concert tickets all mixed up in one drawer.

The bed rests against the one blue wall - a light blue, not unintentionally - you think - like the sky - and it’s almost comical to think that it had once belonged to Frankie.

He lies on it now, ready for bed and resting against the headboard as he watches you walk around the room barefoot and wearing one of his t-shirts that brushes your thighs, and his toes are already nearly at the edge.

Usually when you are up here, it’s still the middle of the day. The garden would be filled with family and there would be muffled conversations and music coming through a slightly cracked open window, the curtains still wide and letting in the sun. It feels more intimate now, in the dead of night with a silent house.

Until six months ago, you had lived an hour drive away. One of you would drive whenever there was a dinner or party at the house, much preferring to find your way into your own bed at the end of the day, but now you were a six hour flight away.

After his mission that had gone south, two weeks that almost broke apart your family and led to days of shouting and nights of silence, you and Frankie sat down - cried out and exhausted - and you knew that something had to give.

Frankie lived in fear of running into his ex-colleagues on the street and suddenly Thursday night drinks with the guys felt more like an obligation than something that left him feeling good. You walked around your house and thought about the two weeks that had you tearing your hair out and waiting by the phone. Then, amongst all the hardship was an email into Frankie’s inbox - a job offer, entry level and using his recently acquired engineering degree but interested in all of his experience, for an aerospace engineering firm.

“In Alaska,” he said, and you both smiled.

It’s only been six months in your new fixer-upper house and Frankie’s job is only a half-an-hour drive from your small town. You work three days to match with Sofia’s nursery days and spend two having one on one days with your daughter before a weekend filled with the three of you. It’s only been six months, and yet everything is starting to feel normal again.

Frankie’s head tilts as he watches you wander around his room now, taking only short breaks to glance down at the monitor on the bedside table.

“Bet you never thought you’d be using a baby-monitor in this room,” you say and Frankie laughs.

“Think my Ma spent her Sundays praying I wouldn’t.”

You spin on your heels, turning to look along the shelf with the photographs.

“Did you have your first kiss up here?” You ask, lifting a photo frame of Frankie and a group of people. You’ve looked at the photo half a dozen times before, Frankie’s chin resting on your shoulder and pointing everyone out. An ex-girlfriend here and an ex-boyfriend there, answering your raised eyebrows with “not at the same time, obviously,” and nipping your hip playfully.

Your thumb strokes across his face, a smile hidden beneath the bill of his hat like he often does now, and you see him shake his head out of the corner of your eye.

“Behind the gym hall after a school dance,” he replies and you snort.

“A cliche.”

“Did you lose your-“ you place the photo back down on the shelf and turn to look at him, wiggling your eyebrows until he grins widely, “-you know, up here?”

He rolls his eyes with a smile and shakes his head. “The back of my old truck.”

“Classic country boy,” you tut with a shake of your head and it’s his turn to laugh now.

Your fingers drag along the shelves, toes curling into the soft carpet and eyes wandering over every little trinket teenage Frankie had collected that glints in the moonlight.

“Come here,” Frankie’s quiet voice drags your attention back to him, his features soft and relaxed with a barely there smile as he holds his hand out towards you.

In a few short steps your thighs are brushing against the side of the mattress, your soft palm sliding against his rough one as he tangles your fingers together and pulls you onto his lap. He lifts your now linked hands to kiss the back of your hand, his other resting on your hip as you settle yourself.

“Are you sure your back will be okay with both of us squeezed in here tonight?” You ask.

The bed is barely a double, big enough for both of you if you’re pressed together all night.

“I’m sure,” Frankie replies quietly and you brush back some of the hair that has fallen across his forehead.

For a while, the only sounds are from the house settling - the creaking stairs and doors that sink to their frame - and your steady breathing as you drag your fingers through his hair all the while he draws deep lines with his palms from your hip to your ribs and back again. You’re not sure how long you spend like this, at some point your head falling to his shoulder and his lips brushing kisses against your forehead.

Slowly, he starts to move his lips across your cheek, towards your jaw and down your neck. Slowly, you start to rock your hips down against his in return.

“Frankie,” you whisper and he nods, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you tight against him.

“Hold on, baby.” It’s a little awkward, there’s some laughter and jumbled limbs as he moves you both until your back is against the mattress and he hovers over you. “There.” He looks down at you, kissing you with the smiles still on both your mouths until he begins to trail them down your neck, pulling your t-shirt down lower and licking along your collarbone before lifting your shirt up and kissing along your stomach.

At some point your underwear is pulled down your legs, your t-shirt thrown on the floor along with his own and his boxers. He’s slowly rocking into you, the bed creaking quietly and your mouths swallowing each other’s groans.

With his hand gripping your thigh, your nails drag down his back and Frankie’s hips slam into yours in return, bitten back groans turning to giggles when your head slams against the headboard.

“Ow.”

“Are you okay?” Frankie asks, pulling back with his brows furrowing down at you and reaching up to rub the top of your head.

“The saying “I want fucked so hard I forget my name” doesn't mean concussion, you know that right?”

Frankie’s body shakes with silent laughter, his weight falling to his elbows and his breath warming your neck.

“News to me,” he mutters around a laugh, before lifting his head and pressing his lips to your forehead. “Better?”

You hum, wrapping your legs higher on his waist and pulling him down against you again.

He starts moving once more, your back arching up against him with your chest pressed against his and his hands sliding between your sweat-slick bodies. In an attempt to muffle your moan you lift your head from the pillow and press your lips to his shoulder, teeth nipping at his skin, and then he thrusts down hard and-

Your head hits the headboard. Again.

“Jesus, Frankie, fuck me,” you mutter and he barks a laugh, dropping his head back to the crook of your neck to muffle the rest of his laughter.

“Already am,” he replies and you swat at his arm.

It’s slow and clumsy, you’re both still smiling and on the edge of laughter when he tips you over the edge and your moans are quiet and light, his body carefully collapsing against yours with his head coming to rest on your chest.

You stay like that, his lips dragging back and forth across your chest and your hands brushing through his hair, until he sits up and pulls you with him.

“I take for granted that I can practically roll from our bed to the bathroom,” you say, reaching for your make-shift pyjamas thrown across the floor, and Frankie swats your ass playfully.

After tip-toeing across the hall and back, you slip into bed in front of Frankie, his chest now bare with his t-shirt left on the floor, the whole front of his body is pressed to your back. He reaches over you and turns the monitor so you both can see Sofia on the screen, sleeping much like her dad does when he has the room to do so - an arm thrown above her head and the other resting on her little chest over her sleeping bag. You say as much and feel Frankie’s smile pressed against your neck, his hand sneaking beneath your t-shirt to rest on your stomach.

“Am I the first person you’ve had in this bed?” You ask and you hear his hair swish against the pillow as he nods. “Your mum would be so proud, waiting until after marriage.”

“You know how the rhyme goes. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby in a golden carriage. Oh, and then you can share a bed.”

You laugh quietly, pulling Frankie’s arm tighter around you as you nestle back into him.

“I think teenage me would never believe how lucky I get,” he says, squeezing you once.

“I think teenage me would think the same,” you reply.

________________

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[beyoursbb]

billy butcher smut visuals pls🥺🥺🥺

Billy gets rough as hell 💣

Like, nearly kills you sometimes 💣

But he can be nice and giving as well 💣

He's always a tease however 💣