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luxurychristmaspudding · 21 hours

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ugh. yes yes yes.

who would have thought javi had such a mouth on him??? and yet it makes perfect sense.

i love how intense this moment is between the two of them, and i love how unfailingly generous and gentlemanly he is. i think this is my favourite version of mr g.

beth, this is so well written, so hot. that need to get each other alone is literally seeping through the words. bravo, my love <3

also, this in his accent, his voice? dead.

Birthday Interruptions

Pairing: Javi Gutiarrez x F!Reader

Rating: 18+ Explicit

Word Count: 2.9k

Summary: You’re Javi’s assistant and organise a party to celebrate his birthday. However, amongst all the music and entertainment, Javi’s too focused on unwrapping his birthday present early, which of course, happens to be you.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, mdni, no use of y/n, no age mentioned, brief description of reader (she has hair that can be pulled and she also wears makeup), alcohol consumption, soft!Javi, but also slight dom!Javi, fingering, f!oral, P in V, unprotected sex, mirror sex, creampie, soft ending 🥹

I’m so excited to finally be sharing this with all of you! Javi Gutierrez has the warmest place in my heart and I had to write about him. Please let me know your thoughts and I hope you all enjoy this very smutty little drabble!

The biggest shoutout to @schnarfer for her continuous support and helping me with this! Forever grateful 💕

Javi’s been watching you all night.

And it wasn’t quick looks in your direction or subtle glances.

You’re standing in the corner of the room and the party’s already in full swing. Your eyes focus on the busy crowd, nervous palms smoothing out the creases in your dress and clutching onto your champagne flute. You slowly lift the glass up to your lips and take a sip, the mixture of fruity flavours and acidic bubbles bursting all over your tastebuds.

The sound of music and voices fills the open space. There’s a round of applause and laughter as it decorates the night sky, the clinking of bottles and the tapping of heels echoes in your ear drums, the scattering of fairy lights shining and displaying the beauty of Javi’s home.

You stay back and observe him while he weaves through the busy crowd. You breathe in heavily, smiling at the broadness of his back, his shoulders flexing and covered in a dark, forest green blazer, with his shirt unbuttoned underneath, revealing a glimpse of his sun-kissed chest. His hair was partially slicked back with gel, his beard neatly trimmed and soft curls resting on the nape of his neck.

You’re weak at the knees, unconsciously clenching your thighs together.

Lucas is standing next to you as you both delve into simple conversation. You’re trying so hard to concentrate, eyes reading and mapping out the movements of his lips to help understand the words that leave them, but you can’t. You need Javi. You have to have him, right now.

A warmth travels up your spine and the hairs on your arms stand up, the scent of vetiver and amber opening up your nostrils and filling your lungs. A large hand suddenly caresses your lower back, and you shiver.

Lucas’s eyes widen, raising his glass up in celebration. “Javi!” He says, his smile full and joyful. “Nice to finally see you, happy birthday my friend.”

“Thank you, Lucas,” Javi answers, also lifting his glass towards Lucas as they both take an honourable sip of their champagne. “Glad you could make it.”

“What, and miss this?” Lucas continues, moving his gaze over Javi’s shoulder and checking the crowd. “Place is looking great cousin, you’ve done a real good job.”

Javi chuckles, giving your hip a firm squeeze. “I wish I could say that I helped in making all of this happen but…then I’d be lying. It’s this one you should be complimenting.” Javi pulls you closer, his whole hand now wrapped around your waist and giving you a nudge, “Done all the planning and organising herself.”

Lucas raises his eyebrows and smirks at you. “She’s too good for you Javi.” He sneers, winking at you.

“She’s done an incredible job,” Javi applauds, “always working hard for me.”

Javi was never one for missing an opportunity to congratulate you on your efforts and hard work. He adored you; he knew how much of your life you put into him and his profession, and he loved showing you his appreciation.

This appreciation of course, would come in many different forms.

“You better have a birthday speech tucked away in that blazer Javi,” Lucas says, pulling you out of your daydream. “You know we’re all expecting one.”

Javi pauses, his hold on your waist dropping to the curve of your backside. “It’s funny you say that…” he says, his eyes darkening, “that’s the reason I came over here.”

He gives your ass a small squeeze.

“I do have a speech planned out, however…” He looks directly at you. “There are just parts of it I’m not too happy with. Thought I could run through my ideas with you.”

You nod with hidden urgency. “Of course Javi, that’s what I’m here for.”

A few moments later you’re both saying goodbye to Lucas and making your way towards the house, his hand gently ushering you through the crowd of people.

He stops in his tracks, lips ghosting over your ear.

“Go upstairs mi amor. I’ll be there in 5.”

🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎

Javi pushes the door open with a firm shove, his mouth attacking yours in a fervour and fingers threading through your hair as his strong frame leads you further into his bathroom, the back of your thighs hitting the marbled corner of his sink.

You gasp at the coldness on your fiery skin, lips parting and breaking away from his mouth. Javi is relentless, moving his kisses to your blushed cheeks and lower to your jaw and neck, sucking lightly on your skin that pulses rapidly against his lips and tongue.

Gripping onto his shoulders you throw your head back, giving him more access to you as you moan out his name and claw at his back. Your eyes flutter closed from his marking, his lips continuing to suck and teeth biting at your sweet spot.

You wish this could last the rest of the night, but Javi has people waiting for him, and soon, his guests will be wondering where he’d gone to. His absence away will lead to suspicion, and suspicion could lead with you both getting caught. It hurts, but this has to be quick, so with palms flat on his chest you force him away, fumbling with his belt buckle and frantic fingers yanking at his belt loops, his blown-out pupils watching you intensely.

“Javi.” You warn, “baby we have to be—”

“Quick,” He softly interrupts, “I know cariño, I know.”

Freeing his belt you pull down his zipper, your hand palming his growing cock over his boxers, feeling the hardening shape of him in your small hold.

“See what you do to me.” Javi murmurs, his lips skimming across your shoulder, “Can you feel how hard you make me. Bebé, you have no idea how badly I want you.”

Javi wraps his arms around your back, pressing his erection into your stomach and groaning at the relief it gives him. He’s so close, your body trapped between his grasp and the sink behind you.

“You’re so beautiful…” Javi says, his eyes raking over the top of your dress, the material tight against your breasts, hips and waist. “You look stunning in this dress querida.”

“It’s for you Javi. I wore it tonight, for you.”

He likes that. “Is that right?” He drags his eyes over your dress again and up to your lips. “You wore this dress for me? Is this my little birthday treat?”

Your heart quickens, and all you can do is stand there, motionless, staring at his mouth, licking your own in anticipation.

Javi smirks at you, cocking his eyebrows, his index finger follows the strap of your dress.

“Mmm, as much as I love this on you…” He murmurs, sliding the strap off your shoulder, the top of your breasts peeking out of the sweetheart neckline.

“I think it’ll be much prettier if I wasn’t on you at all. Don’t you think?”

You shudder.

He stares at you in wonder, his touch showing more of your bare and delicate skin. “You gonna be good and let me unwrap my birthday present?”

Yes. Fuck, please take it off.

Javi’s hands move to your half-covered breasts, squeezing them, swiping and pinching his digits over your nipples as they harden under his touch. He tugs at the thin strap that still rests on your shoulder, staring at your collarbone.

The material brushes lightly over your breasts and waist until it pools around your feet, kicking the fabric to the side with your heel.

“Fuck, look at you,” he gazes, taking all of you in, “and no bra too. You’re just begging for it, aren’t you hermosa.”

You’re already throbbing, body now completely bare except for the black thong that covers your sex. There’s a rush twisting in the pit of your core from the way you’re standing so exposed like this, so naked in front of him when he’s still fully clothed.

It excites you.

Reaching up to his blazer you remove it quickly, hungry eyes gaping at the spread of his chest and arms. You rub your thighs together, arousal seeping over your underwear and through the material, the fabric wrecked and sticking to your puffy folds and swollen clit.

You want him. You need him, now.

Javi’s hand follows the curve of your hips and inches closer to your anticipating sensitivity. He hooks his fingers under the waistband of your thong, wetting the tip of his digits with your juices.

You clutch onto his shirt, eyes widening and squealing at the sensation, moans leaving your mouth in erratic sobs of pleasure. Javi opens you up with two fingers and slips one past your entrance. Fuck you’re completely soaked for him, the squelching sound of your arousal filling the room as he curls his finger upwards and adds a second finger, moving them in a slow and almost painful rhythm.

“Always so wet bebé. I’ll never get enough of how messy this pussy gets for me.”

“Please, Javi.”

His eyes close, getting lost in the warmth and slickness of your walls hugging his fingers. “Cariño, I know I said we were gonna be quick but I need to savour this. I have to taste you.”

Javi’s on his knees before you can acknowledge his words, his fingers moving your thong to the side and mouth delving into your folds, his tongue and lips sucking on your clit.

He grunts into your pussy and inhales your scent, the tip of his tongue flicking against your bundle of nerves as he keeps your legs spread apart, your hands knotting and messing his hair as you rub your cunt on his face.

“You have the prettiest pussy,” You hear him say, his words muffled, “so sensitive bebé.”

He licks at your arousal that seeps out of you, collecting it all on his tongue, the tip of his fingers fucking you and stroking your g-spot.

“Fuck, Javi.” You whimper, eyes moving towards the bathroom door. “I don’t wanna wait—I need more. W-want you to fuck me. Give me your cock, please.”

He removes his lips from you with a final suck on your clit, rising back onto his feet and lowering his trousers and boxers in a fast and hasty motion. His cock bounces up to his stomach, his length throbbing, his head red and responsive and his slit weeping.

“Tasted so good cariño,” He breathes, his lips and moustache wet and glossy with your arousal. “You want me to fuck you now? You want me to fill you up?”

“Yes please.” You whimper, turning your body around and bracing your hands on the counter, opening your legs wider and bending your back, moving your ass closer to his cock. Your eyes watch his every move in the mirror.

He drags your panties down your legs before the tip of his cock notches at your entrance, rubbing his whole length along your pussy and covering himself with your sweetness.

“You know I love hearing those noises you make for me.” He coos, eyeing you in the reflection, “But I need you to be good and stay quiet. Think you can do that? Think you can behave when I fuck you like the good girl you are?”

“Y-yes Javi.” You choke out. “Please. Give it to me, I can be quiet, I’ll be so good—”

Your voice cuts off as Javi fills you in one deep thrust, his groin making contact with the curve of your ass. You gasp out in shock and surprise, eyes rolling back at the burning sting trickling down your skin.

“That’s it.” He praises, swirling his hips as his tip reaches deeper, “Feel me. Feel how much my cock fills this small cunt.”

Your breathing is quick, your walls pulsing around his length as you try to adjust to his large size.

“Fuck you’re tight,” Javi grits, fingers digging into your hips. “How am I supposed to last when you feel like this. You’re choking me baby.”

“Relax for me.”

He slowly pulls his length out when he feels your walls loosen around him, starting at a hurried pace and driving back into you hard.

It’s overwhelming. Your weight falls onto your elbows, the power of Javi’s movements causing tears to prick on your lash line, that coil in your stomach building up and spewing over.

“Taking me so well querida,” He purrs, “doing so good for me.”

Skin slaps against skin, hands gripping onto the marble counter as you lose yourself in him, your mind completely fogged and vision blurred by bliss.

Javi hauls you up and presses his chest against your back, holding onto your jaw with a firm grasp, directing your gaze so you’re watching yourself in the mirror.

“Look—“ Javi grunts. “Open your eyes and watch yourself hermosa. This cock fucks you good, don’t it. Can’t even speak she’s so fucked out. Shit—tell me how good I’m making you feel.“

“S-so good Javi. Feels so good.”

You fix your stare on the reflection in the mirror, your cheeks crimson and make-up smudged, your skin hot and hair knotty, Javi’s body continuing to move quickly and steady behind you.

“Fuck you’re so beautiful. Keep your eyes on me and watch how I fuck you. Wanna watch you come apart on my cock.”

Javi focuses on where you’re connected, his mouths agape as he groans out, watching his cock plunge into your spent cunt, his dick saturated and glistening, your juices running down his thighs and wetting the coarse hairs.

“Christ it just keeps coming bebé,” He chuckles breathlessly, “Shit you’re so wet, fucking perfecta.”

Javi lifts up your leg and rests your knee on the edge of the counter, his cock delving even further inside your walls.

“Fuck—Javi!” You shout, hand outstretched and holding onto the back of his neck.

He bites your earlobe and you can feel his smile on your skin. “So much for being quiet mi amor. You gonna let everyone know who’s fucking you this good? You gonna scream it out of everyone to hear?”

You suck on your bottom lip, mumbling your whines and moans as they threaten to pour over.

He touches you everywhere. His hands kneading and circling your hard nipples, his tongue licking your salty skin, fingers threading through your hair and yanking it into a makeshift ponytail.

“That’s it princesa,” Javi praises. “I can feel you’re close, sucking me so tight. You gonna come for me?“

“Yes…,” You cry out, “M’so close Javi. P-please don’t stop.”

“Never bebé. Never going another day without seeing you like this. Go on, show me how beautiful you are when you fall apart for me.”

Javi’s holds you steady when he knows your body’s about to shake and fall, his strong arms wrapping around and fingers lowering to toy with your clit and glide his digits through your slick folds.

“Oh fuck…Javi—”

Your climax hits you without any warning, body trembling and legs weak. Javi’s voice is warm and soft, coaxing you through your orgasm. You watch him in the reflection as you release more of yourself all over his length, coming with a silent cry and gushing on him with more of your juices.

“What did I do to deserve you,” Javi murmurs. “Shit, you feel heavenly.”

Javi’s temples drip with sweat, his curls falling onto the dampened skin of his forehead. His eyebrows furrow and his nose crinkles in concentration, his thrusts becoming sloppy, your walls pulling him closer to his own release.

“Buena niña. Fuck, I’m gonna come.“

“Inside,” You whisper, “Come inside me Javi.”

With one last shove of his cock, Javi’s hips still as he spills himself inside you, his thighs quivering and painting your walls with his hot come.

He chants your name, his body going limp and collapsing on you, his voice wavering and fanning across the back of your neck.

Javi stays nestled inside you, lips kissing your shoulder blade, his hot breath fanning across your skin and hands rubbing up and down your arms.

He winces when he pulls himself out of you, his come leaking out and dripping down your thighs.

He licks the inside of your mouth when you turn around to face him, gasping out at the feel of his fingers inching between your legs, collecting his come on his fingers and pushing it back inside you.

“Come on,” He sighs, “let’s clean ourselves up.”

You both freshen up and get redressed, fixing your make-up and the mascara that’s smudged under your eyes. The clanking of a belt buckle is heard behind you as you thread your fingers through your hair, removing the tangles from Javi’s tenacious grip.

You haven’t looked at Javi, and when your head perks up towards him, he’s already staring at you, his eyes wide and smile gentle.

“Fuck you’re gonna be trouble for me hermosa. You expect me to go back down after that?”

You roll your eyes, ignoring his words, but you can’t help the smile that appears on your face. “Did you really have a speech planned? Or was that an excuse to get us away from everyone?”

“I do have a speech planned,” he laughs, moving towards you and placing a kiss on the side of your cheek, staring back at you in the mirror. “I just really needed to have you to myself, just for a little while.”

You hum. “Well it definitely worked.”

“I knew it would,” he teases, flashing you the most joyful smile. “You just can’t get enough of me, can you.”

Slicking back the curls at the front of his face you kiss his lips one last time.

“Never. Happy Birthday Javi.”

#fic recs #javi gutierrez #javi gutierrez x reader

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luxurychristmaspudding · 22 hours

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FUCK. FUUUUUUUUCKKK.

jesus christ. what is it about frankie beating himself up over wanting someone that's so hot? aside from the obvious here.

the tension?? the looks?? the temptation?? the giving in????

man. this was genius. i need to take a lap.

Down the Hall

Frankie Morales x f!reader

Tags: Explicit, age gap because you know what I'm about (Frankie is your mom’s boyfriend, he is in his 40s, you are in your mid-20s)

A/N: Yea….so this is dedicated to @intheorangebedroom who inspired this entire idea and to @whatsnewalycat whose beautiful brain and writing inspired me as well. Thank you to @astroboots for cheering me on, to @bageldaddy for the super in depth beta and to @the-ginger-hedge-witch who soothed by "does this hit" worries — your minds are golden and I am so happy you support this utter filth. Ily ❤️

He thought that dating someone his own age would ground him, steady him. Not that he ever paid much attention to the age of the women he dated, but he thought with someone who had their own shit figured out, he might be inspired to do the same.

Unmoored and unattached since he joined the army in his twenties, he was pushing forty now and craved some kind of routine. Living alone gave him too much time for thinking, too many hours spent inside his own head. He knew that living like that for too long could lead to bad decisions and thought he might hold himself to a higher standard when he saw how they held themselves to one.

He met her at a bar – the most cliche of meeting places, but for good reason. She was out with friends after work and from the start, he was attracted to the way she smiled with her whole mouth. Everything about her seemed sensuous and fun, so inviting that he found himself drawn in and when he asked if he could take the seat next to her, he matched her smile with one of his own.

When she invited him home that night, he buried himself deep while feasting on that generous mouth.

He stayed that night, and then one night became twice a week, became three – and before he knew it, his lease was up on his apartment and he moved in. It was nice to come home to someone after work. To know that someone was there, wondering how his day went. To have a warm body curled up next to him in bed.

She was so independent, so driven. A corporate job that required her to dress in slippery blouses and pretty skirts with heels; the same he loved to strip from her when she came home all stressed out the way she did sometimes. And she had a kid – a daughter – already in college somewhere on the east coast, but that didn’t bother him. Dating in his forties meant people already had their own histories, and he was no exception.

Sometimes after she fell asleep and he had time alone to think, he still felt something that itched beneath his skin. Something that pulled at him from within, something that remained unsettled. He told himself that it was just an adjustment period after so many years of being unattached, and shoved those feelings deep down inside of him, determined to ignore them until he taught himself a new way to live.

Her breathing deep and steady beside him, he told himself that she was good for him.

That was what counted.

He was all for it when she told him her daughter was coming home to stay the summer between semesters. He liked the idea of having another person in the house – another distraction, another responsibility to take him out of his own head.

He worked odd hours, and during his off days, Frankie took up the task of preparing her daughter’s old room. Light pink walls, a creamy bedspread dotted with delicate flowers: his mind supplied an automatic image of the little girl that lined the hallway in frames. He knew she was older than that now, but the way her mom talked about her, he couldn’t help imagining a little kid.

Tasked with picking her up from the airport the day she arrived, he had just stepped out of the shower when he heard the doorbell. Frowning, he tugged a shirt over his damp curls, and opened the door.

Jesus Christ. Speechless, he stared at the prettiest woman he’d ever seen.

“Sorry I didn’t call,” you apologized, tugging a heavy bag higher up on your shoulder. “I got in early and thought an Uber would be faster.”

He stood there for a moment, just staring, his mouth slightly parted in confusion. And then he saw it: the shape of your eyes, the curve of your lush mouth. The resemblance stamped across your delicate features.

“I couldn’t find my key.” You stood there, looking uneasy on your own doorstep. “You must be Frankie. Or is it Francisco? My mom said you’d be here. It’s nice to meet you.”

At the rounded sound of his full name coming from your mouth, his gaze snapped back to meet your eyes while you hung there, clearly waiting for him to say something. His body was slow to catch up with his brain, the little girl his mind supplied was gone, replaced by the vision that stood in front of him. Still young and fresh-faced, but grown nonetheless and so, so fucking beautiful.

When you gestured towards the house behind him, he finally shook himself from the initial shock.

“Shit,” he apologized, stepping back out of your way. “Yea, it’s Frankie. Nice to meet you.” You gave him a half smile, and when you stepped inside, he reached for your bag. “Here, let me grab that.”

His hand dragging through his curls, he stood in the entryway and watched you make yourself at home: your shoes immediately kicked off on the doormat, your jacket hung neatly next to his own like it had always belonged there.

“Do you know when my mom gets home?”

He cleared his throat, trying not to stare at the length of your legs underneath the hem of your shorts. “Uh, she said probably around six? That’s when she usually gets home.”

You nodded, holding your hand out for your bag and for a split second, he wondered if he should bring it upstairs for you. It would be the polite thing to do, but the idea of entering your room now felt like overstepping. You weren’t a kid, you didn’t need him like that. The boundaries had suddenly blurred and shifted, and he whisked away the image of you settling into your bedroom just as fast as it popped into his head.

When you grabbed the bag from him, he felt relief.

It was easy to avoid you for the afternoon while you got settled. Instead, he mowed the lawn, prepared dinner, all the while with his ears attuned to the sound of you walking around above him. He felt on edge, anxious. The excitement he thought he would feel with someone else in the house had turned into unease.

He made himself an outsider, even more so when your mom came home. Not wanting to intrude on your time together, he stayed in the kitchen to cook dinner for the two of you and delivered it to the living room, placing your plates on the coffee table.

“Thank you, baby, that’s so nice.” Your mother scooted forward, tilting her chin up towards him in a silent request for a kiss.

Granting it to her, he felt her familiar hold slip around the back of his neck to keep him in place for a moment, keenly aware of the way you were right there. For a split second while his lips were still on hers, he glanced up at you and it was clear that he caught you watching by the way you hastily looked away the second he met your eyes.

He fucked her hard that night, his hand over her mouth so you wouldn’t hear.

She was gone in the morning when he made his way downstairs, and he was pleasantly surprised to find coffee already in the pot.

“I made extra,” you said, from your perch on the chair at the table. Sleep shorts high on your thighs, an oversized tee shirt covering your top half. The way it engulfed you made you look younger than you were.

He looked away, busying himself with pouring a cup.

“I drink a lot, so I made a lot,” you explained with shy self-deprecation.

“Sounds good to me,” he replied, sitting down at the table. “Got any plans for today? Or for the summer, I guess?”

Wading the tentative waters of getting to know someone, he watched your fingers play with the edge of the paper.

“Just relax for a bit, I think? Catch up with some old friends? No plan really. I just didn’t want to hang out on a deserted campus.”

He nodded. “Makes sense.”

And so began the morning routine you would both share for the next few weeks. Hesitant and quiet around each other in the beginning, sliding into something normal fairly fast. Your mother was early to rise and early to bed, but he had never been and neither were you.

He joined you in the late morning at the kitchen table, the curve of your soft cheek highlighted in the slant of light through the window. On the couch at night, a different kind of illumination from the light of the TV, yet hitting your cheek just the same. Your things scattered around the living room, your toothbrush next to his in the bathroom, your clothes mixed with his in the wash.

Your proximity was what he blamed for the constant thoughts he had about you.

Every morning he admired how rumpled you looked, how sleepy and soft and inviting. It was endearing, but soon other thoughts edged out the more innocent ones: thoughts about your legs wrapped around his waist, your slender fingers wrapped around something other than a coffee cup.

The want he felt for you pooled in various places inside him: his brain, his chest, between his thighs. It spilled down the shower drain and spilled hot across his stomach.

It flooded your mother’s mouth, and she was none the wiser.

Afterwards, she tucked her face into the meat of his shoulder, pressing a kiss against the skin there. Sated and content, she curled herself around him. “Let’s do something this weekend together. Actually make use of that pool we have for once.”

A barbecue. She’d been talking about having one for a while.

“We’ve been working so hard. I feel like I barely even see you, honey.”

Something akin to guilt tugged at him, thinking of the shifts he had been picking up in an effort to avoid you. Your eyes, your smile, your stupid sleep shorts.

He hummed his agreement and she kissed him in thanks, her breaths eventually evening out as she fell asleep.

Frankie lay awake, the image of your closed bedroom door stuck in his mind.

–

“Jesus Christ,” you murmured as you watched Frankie climb out of the pool.

Broad, bare shoulders, tanned swathes of skin, cute little dimples just above his ass. Water ran down over his tanned skin, the thin material of his swim shorts stuck to his ass and when he turned around to grab a towel off a nearby chair, you were glad for your sunglasses.

Fuck me.

The material of his shorts molded to every inch of his thick cock, the shape clearly outlined. Oblivious, he ran the towel over his curls, over his shoulders and arms, down his torso – and when his hand gingerly pulled the material away from his crotch, you memorized the swirl of dark hair that surrounded his navel and led down.

“Can you help me with the grill, honey?”

Your mom’s voice pulled your attention away from him.

Her boyfriend, you reminded yourself. Frankie was her boyfriend.

“Yea,” he called back, chucking his towel on the chair. “Be right there. Let me put a shirt on.”

The shirt he shrugged over his head was the same one you folded that morning. The material was threadbare and super soft, the muscles of his back shifting underneath the thin fabric as he sauntered over to the grill. You knew the way it felt in your hands, and at the thought of his body heat through the material, you pressed your thighs together.

The afternoon sun bathed you in warmth, but it was nothing compared to the heat that pooled inside your bottoms as you continued to watch him from your recline by the pool. His brown curls glinted in the sun, his throat bobbing with a swallow when your mother brought him a beer.

When his eyes flashed over to you, you finally looked away.

You saw those deep, doleful brown eyes in your sleep.

You felt them on you all the time: in the dark living room during family movie time, your mother curled up against his side. In the kitchen after dinner, when you loaded the dishwasher while he put away the food. In the mornings, when you pretended to read the paper while he snuck hooded peeks at you and drank you in.

Startled by his handsomeness from the very first time you laid eyes on him, your crush only grew with every passing day spent in his company. He was so thoughtful, so attentive and kind, but it was something else buried within his gaze that drew you in.

A barely restrained want that shone clear on his face every time he looked at you. A need simmering under the surface, you saw the way he fought it.

You thought about him constantly: imagined him crowding you against the counter in the kitchen, saw him pulling back the shower curtain to join you, pretended your fingers were his in your bed at night.

Born out of your own need, you pushed him. Played with the limits of his self control, desperate for him to make a move. No action overt enough to be blatant, the way he stared at you made you feel confident, bold. The want pouring off his skin when you hung around him was obvious and thick, filling the space between the two of you until he inevitably excused himself.

When it’s time to eat, you take a seat next to him on the bench, your thigh pressed hot against his. You waited for him to pull away, but he never did and the intimate sensation of the hair on his leg brushing against your own smoother skin made it hard to eat, though you missed it when he got up.

Your mother, one margarita too many and giggly and loose, pulled him into a dance under the stars that had just begun to come out. He humored her, wrapping his arms around her waist to hold her close, smiling at every murmured secret she slipped into his ear.

You watched the scene unfold right in front of you with a fond, humoring expression, and his eyes kept finding yours, flashing in the darkness.

You pretended nonchalance, but the entire time, you wanted.

He took her to bed while you cleaned up the kitchen.

You knew he fucked her – you heard it sometimes. They tried to be quiet for your sake but sometimes a whimper would slip down the hall, the deep reverberation of a groan in the dark.

Climbing into bed that night, your mind lingered on the image of his wet swim trunks. The dark swirl of hair, the heft in the outline.

You wondered what he fucked like with a cock like that.

–

“Something’s going on in the Arizona market,” your mom explained, tossing items into her suitcase. A silk blouse spilled over the side, and you tucked it back in with the rest. “I’ll be gone through Thursday, maybe Friday? Hopefully not the weekend, but I’ll let you know.”

“Do you need a ride to the airport?”

Smiling at you, she stepped forward and cupped your cheek with her hand for a moment. “That’s sweet, honey, but I’m good. Frankie’s got it.”

Apprehension swirled with anticipation, the joint feelings settled low in your gut. You’d been alone with him before, but never for this long. Never truly alone, for days on end.

The man himself poked his head around the corner of the doorway, the width of his shoulders filling out the frame. He glanced at you, and then his watch. “You about ready, baby?”

She bustled around the room, tossing things here and there onto the bed and he looked at you again, a slight frown pulling between his brows.

His expression gave something akin to frustration, and for a split second, you thought it was because of the time your mom was taking. When you felt his dark eyes drop down the length of your body involuntarily and then back up again, you turned away with a small smile, knowing it to be something else.

–

For the first couple days, he stayed away from the house as much as he could. Kept his distance until he ran out of errands, until he drove down the same stretch of road too many times. He didn’t trust himself to be alone with you, and he hated himself for it.

Self loathing creeped in every time he thought about the way his jeans tightened even thinking of you alone in the house. His girlfriend’s fucking daughter, half his age. The whole thing was fucked up.

And yet, he couldn’t stop.

He felt bad, thinking of you suddenly being all alone after spending so much time with people around, but he told himself that you probably loved having the space to yourself.

He came in the shower that morning to the thought of your mouth wrapped around the base of his cock, and he was unable to look you in the eye when he saw you in the kitchen afterward. Your hopeful expression lingered in his mind all day as he stretched out the hours.

The sky turned from light blue to dark, and he finally caved. He couldn’t stay away forever.

The house was quiet when he walked in, tossing his keys on the entryway table. He crept around, looking for any sign of your presence, until he heard the shower running upstairs. Light spilled down the staircase, and heading into the kitchen, he tried to push down the thoughts running rampant in his head.

He drank a glass of water, listening.

The shower turning off (your naked body, damp and warm), your footsteps padding down the hall (that smooth skin, hidden under your towel), your bedroom door shutting (the towel dropping onto your floor).

He stayed downstairs, turning the TV on to distract himself, the air in the house charged with a magnetic pull from your room. He waited until there had been nothing but silence for the better part of a half hour, then dared to venture upstairs.

He’d just say goodnight, that’s all. Just so you knew you weren’t alone.

His knuckles rapped against your door, and he pushed it open when he heard you say come in.

“Hey,” you greeted him, slight surprise on your face. Stretched out in bed, the inviting cloud of your comforter was plush underneath your body. You paused the movie you were watching, and sat up on your elbows. “Haven’t seen you in a couple days.”

“Yea,” he replied, leaning against the frame of your door. His eyes followed a slow path up your bare legs.

“Work been crazy or something?” you asked.

“Something like that, yea,” he answered. His hand stayed on the knob of your door, an anchor that kept him from crossing a line. “I actually just stopped by to say goodnight. I’m gonna turn in.”

“Already?” you teased. “It’s pretty early, isn’t it? Aren’t you gonna live it up while my mom is gone?”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “I’ve lived it up enough. I’m an old man, remember? We don’t do that kind of stuff.”

“Forty-five is hardly an old man,” you scolded with a smile. “You wanna watch a movie instead?”

You patted the bed next to you, and his face sobered. You didn’t see it, instead reaching for the lotion on your bedside table to work some into your hands and the image of you jerking his cock with that same lotion flashed across his mind. He frowned.

“In here?”

You shrugged, laying back down. “I mean, I’m already all set up in here…”

You left the offer hanging, and even though he knew - he fucking knew he shouldn’t - he found himself nodding.

You looked surprised at his answer for a split second, and then pleased.

“Let me go get changed.”

He walked down the hall towards his room, scolding himself the entire time. Don’t do this, don’t do this, don’t go back into that fucking room. Don’t think about how smooth her skin is and how much you want to kiss her. Don’t think about how her sheets smell like her, don’t think about how much you want to lick her cunt.

The thoughts ran on a loop as he peeled off his work clothes.

They echoed in his head as he pulled on his sweats.

They followed him out of his bedroom and all the way down the hall, stopping at your doorway.

You turned your head, looking at him expectantly, looking so fucking lush and innocent, so eager to have him join you.

He swallowed hard, mouth watering and left his guilt in the hallway, joining you in bed.

–

Pretending to ignore the heavy blanket of tension pulsing between your bodies, you kept your eyes fixed on the screen.

Stretched out next to you, he kept a respectable distance, but you felt the heat that poured off of his skin. He looked so large in your bed, so much like a man. His long limbs splayed out over your girlish comforter, his masculine scent filled the space and when he crossed his arms, you admired the way the hem of his sleeve stretched around his bicep.

Lightheaded and trembling with a heady want that ached between your thighs, you made it through the whole movie – until the room descended into darkness, until the credits rolled and the screen went black

Until it was just the two of you sitting side by side in the dark.

The sheets rustled when you rolled onto your side to face him.

“What did you think?” you asked quietly.

He looked down at you from his slouch on the bed, and your fingers twitched with the need to smooth away the crease that rested permanently between his brows. You would think he was mad if not for his eyes: those always look conflicted more than anything. Constant turmoil, roiling deep within the dark depths.

Not answering, he stared down at you for a long moment before shrugging.

“Okay, I guess. Well, have a good night.”

He then started to slide off the bed.

Disappointment flooded your chest, the tension that you’d been feeling for the last two hours releasing restlessly through your limbs. Already making plans to get your vibrator from your side table to use while burying your face into the sheets he was just sitting on, he stilled.

Your eyes fixed on his broad back, you could almost see the decision being made and he quickly turned before he could convince himself to stop.

Bending down, he kissed you.

It was consuming. The brush of his mustache, the taste of his mouth, the weight of his solid body as he pushed you into the bedding, draping it over yours. His tongue slipped into your mouth to slide against your own, and he swallowed the soft sound that caught in the back of your throat. Pushing himself into the cradle between your thighs, he forced them open wider as he deepened the kiss, and his dry, calloused hand slid underneath the hem of your shirt, wrapping around your hip.

You knew you should push him away, but your hands only dragged him closer, grabbing everything you could touch: the slip of his curls, the curve of his whiskered jaw, the rounds of his broad shoulders. You dug your fingertips into his sides as he ground his hips against yours and your knees hitched higher around his torso.

His hand wrapped around the top of your shin, pushing down to hold you in place.

“Jesus,” he breathed into your mouth between kisses, his fingers tightening in their hold before sliding down to touch everything he can: the meat of your hips, his big hand cupping your ass with a greedy squeeze. Need rolled off of him in waves, his touch betraying just how long he had thought about this and his mouth shifted down to devour the long line of your neck, tasting the sweet hollow of your throat.

Your pulse beat fast under his tongue, speeding up when he let out a groan against the sensitive skin.

“Take – take this off–” he sat back on his ankles, his hands fumbling with your shirt.

As soon as you pulled it over your head, his mouth latched onto your nipple. His tongue swirled around it, sliding over the peaked bud with a suck. His beard scraped across your sensitive skin, leaving a wet path that glistened over the plane of your chest as he dragged his mouth to your other breast and his heavy hand reached down to cup you wholly over your sleep shorts.

His fingers dug into the dip of your entrance and the heel of his hand ground hard against your clit.

“I can’t stop thinking about this pussy,” he confessed. His fingers rubbed harder, and he groaned hot against your skin. “I can already feel how soaked she is for me. How much she wants it.”

You nodded with a whimper, rolling your hips into his touch. “God yes. Please.”

He pulled back just enough to stare down at your face, his pitch black eyes sliding over your features to settle on your open mouth. “Tell me you want this. Tell me how much you want my cock.”

“Yes. Please, please,” you begged.

“It’s gonna be a lot, baby.” He wetted his bottom lip with his tongue, his hand working, working, working. “She’s gonna need to be wet to take what I need her to take.”

A fresh wave of arousal washed through you, and your sleep shorts clung to your center with every grind of his palm. His thick fingers nudged the fabric to the side, exploring.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned, releasing a heavy breath. “Fuck.”

His eyes fluttered shut with a frown as his touch slid through your soaked seam and kissing you again, he timed the slide of his tongue with the slick stretch of two fingers.

Your thighs opened wider around his waist, a whine crawling out of your throat when he pushed them deeper and when he started a smooth, audible stroke, you started to ride his hand.

You’d been watching his fingers for months: wrapped around the steering wheel in the car, loosely cradling the neck of a beer bottle, drumming against his thigh when he watched TV sometimes. You’d imagined them tucked inside you so many times, buried in your mouth or your cunt, and as he worked a third one in, you let out a filthy moan.

“I gotta work it open, baby,” he soothed, pulling your earlobe between his lips. “It’ll be okay. I know you can take it.”

His hips started to follow the rhythmic roll of his hand and when he seemed satisfied with how much you could take, he slid his fingers out, reaching to tear his shirt off over his head. When he pushed his fingers into his mouth for a moment, his lips wrapping around his knuckles as he sucked your taste off the thick digits, his hooded eyes took in the way you scrambled to take your sleep shorts off.

Following your lead, he dumped everything onto the floor beside your bed, and it felt like heaven when you felt his bare skin against the inside of your thighs. So broad, so firm and strong, his body pressed you into the mattress and you felt the hot, pulsing heft of his cock pushing against your cunt. You clenched at the teasing sensation of what was to come, and reached down to grasp him, but his hand caught yours and pushed it into the bedding above your head.

“Let me do it. I wanna watch your face when I put it in,” he confessed, resting his weight on top of you as he reached down with his other hand to guide himself in.

Sticky slick smeared between the both of you, and when the tip of his cock forced you to bloom around him, his eyes fixed on your face. Greedily, he devoured the sight of your mouth dropping open, a tiny tiny frown appearing between your brows and he thickened inside you, pushing forward.

“Fuck,” you moaned. “It’s so much.” So much more than you ever thought it would be, even with all the months spent imagining it.

He bottomed out and the air froze in your lungs, your cunt stuffed fuller than it’s ever been.

“Shhh,” he soothed, staying in place to let you adjust. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re so fucking tight, baby. So tight.”

Squirming underneath him, you hitched your knees higher around his torso and he rocked his hips to slide halfway out before grinding back in with a weighted push. He gave you a minute: a tense minute, a minute thick and full of wanting, a minute where all you could focus on was the stretch of his cock and the heated bulk of his body and the firmness of his chest pressed against yours.

He brushed his lips against yours, and gently rolled his hips.

“Do you know how much I’ve thought about this? About fucking you, in this bed?” His voice deep and breathless, it sounded overwhelmingly intimate breathed against your cheek.

You shook your head.

“I thought I was the only one,” you admitted. “I used to think – oh fuck – I used to think about you coming down the hallway in the night. Crawling into my bed and fucking me just like this. Just like I can hear you fuck her.”

“You listen to me fuck her?” His hips rocked forward a little faster, picking up pace.

“I can’t help it,” you whined. “The sounds – the sounds you make. I wanted to make you make them. I wanted to be the reason.”

His fingers pushed through the hold of your own, locking your hands together above your head and he dug his knees into the bed for leverage. Your breasts shifted underneath him, bouncing lightly as he fucked into you harder and his eyes dropped down to watch. “You are, baby. You are. I think about you all the time.”

Building steadily underneath him, your head pushed back into the bedding and his mouth found your throat, his teeth scraping against the tender skin. His hips never stopping their filling grind, you pushed your fingers through his curls and when he bit down with a suck, a slurred yes slipped out of your outstretched throat.

You imagined your mom seeing it, asking you if you went on a date with someone.

His strokes got harder, harsher, his hips snapping against yours and digging your fingers into the soft globes of his ass, you forced him deeper. When you clenched around his thick length, he looked down at you, wrecked and desperate.

“I wish I tasted you,” he groaned. “Next time, okay?”

You frantically nodded, unable to focus on anything but the bright, shining edge of your release.

He could see it, feel it in the squeeze of your soaked cunt and his vision blurred around the edges, his own want building at the base of his spine.

“You gonna come?”

You are. The sounds he’s making above you and the way he feels inside you and the scent and need rolling off his skin and those fucking pitch black eyes that have been in your dreams for months –

Slick dripped down the curve of your ass, your hips locking up underneath him and when you came with a silent cry, he groaned deep and loud, fucking you right through it.

“Tell me I can fucking come inside you. Say it,” he pleaded, fingers gripped on your chin to hold your gaze on his. His words punctuated by the snap of his hips, you nod your head.

“Do it,” you whined.

Your fingers threaded through his curls, it’s the tug that you give that does it. Coming harder than he had in his fucking life, he filled your tight cunt with thick ropes of his spend. Endless, smeared over the shaft of his thick cock as he continued to pump into you because he couldn’t stop, slipping out to drip onto the delicate sheets below.

“Christ,” he groaned, his jaw clenched as the veins in his neck strained above you, his hips stuttering. Slowing them into a languid roll against your own, his softening cock was still a thick, filling weight inside and when he looked down at you, you recognized the guilt that already flooded the brown depths.

You stared right back, holding him tight.

“Stay,” you murmured, holding him in place when he started to roll off of you.

You wanted to remember this. The hot press of his skin against yours, tacky and slick with sweat. The warm gust of his breath over your lips, the rapid beat of his pulse under his flushed neck. The wild curls that stuck damply along his hairline, the brush of his fingers as he tenderly thumbed at the curve of your jaw.

He swallowed and you could see the war in his eyes, something you recognized as being there from the start. His hand curled over the crown of your head, and you pressed a kiss to his throat.

“You can’t –” he started, eyes fluttering shut at the press of your mouth. “You can’t tell your mom about this, okay. We can’t say anything.”

We. You reveled in the sound of the word, your head nodding underneath him. A secret to share. Something for the two of you alone.

“I won’t,” you promised. “Just don’t leave, okay?”

You felt small and vulnerable asking, and when he looked down at you, a glimpse of the girl he imagined on that very first day tugged at his memory. Not the age he pictured of course, but the way you needed him.

The way he wanted you to need him all along.

His face nuzzled yours, his nose sliding across your cheek. A kiss pressed against the soft, youthful curve of your cheek that he had admired for months, he nodded with your sweet taste still lingering on his tongue.

“I won’t, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

#fic recs #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader

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luxurychristmaspudding · 22 hours

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i fucking loved this series. everything about it.

your style of writing is just - perfect. everything is so polished, so beautiful. i felt like i was walking alongside joel and charlie, feeling what they felt, seeing what they saw.

the emotional depths you covered were so beautifully written, all rendered with such an understanding of feeling and really, of just what it is to be human.

this is an incredible work. i don't really know how else to say it. it moved me beyond words. you are such a talented writer.

One Day at a Time

Joel becomes a dad. Again.

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut. Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel Miller x f!OFC, Joel & Ellie, soft!Joel, no really super soft!Joel, Joel is bad at feelings and relationships, Joel is a sap, mostly follows canon, SMUT, gratuitous smut, dubious consent (drunk sex), unplanned pregnancy, fluff, references to past miscarriages, angst, hurt/comfort, romance, age gap (~21 years), childbirth, fluffy baby stuff, I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3 Word count: ~25.7k

Notes: It’s a pregnancy/baby fic. Knocked Up, but make it **post-apocalypse**. Joel Miller’s sperm should be registered as a weapon of mass creation. I really just needed to imagine Pedro Pascal holding a baby. Sorry/not sorry.

Chapter 1: Conception

Chapter 2: Implantation

Chapter 3: Embryo

Chapter 4: Gestation

Chapter 5: Labor

Chapter 6: Transition

Chapter 7: Birth

Chapter 8: Beginning

If you liked this, check out Firsts, a series of drabbles set in the same universe. <3

#fic recs #joel miller #joel miller x ofc

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luxurychristmaspudding · 1 day

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I NEED THIS SO BAD I MIGHT FUCKING CRY

every time i come back to this fuckin fic i lose my grip on reality for literally hours at a time. fuck frankie and his massive cock, fuck the way he preps reader for it, fuck the way he talks to her. but most importantly, above all, fuck me.

i have to bite something when i read this and then take a fuckin walk afterwards.

shannon, i don't know what you put in this fic, but it must be crack.

The First Time

Kinktober Day 15: Size Kink

Tags: Frankie "Catfish" Morales x Reader, afab!fem!reader, unprotected piv (pls wrap it up irl fuck them kids), fingering (r!recieving), oral (r!giving and recieving), Frankie's monster schlong, yeah he's got a giant dick we all know it (w/c: 1.5K)

A/N: Part of the rapid-fire Kinktober catch up! My absolutely massive size kink really let itself free with this one (get it?? massive?? hehehe) but anyway please enjoy my ramblings about taking Frankie's gigantic schlong. (I have been using these prompts from flightlessangelwings for Kinktober!)

The first time you undress Frankie, really see him for the first time, bare and open to your gaze, you think you’re fucking hallucinating. He’d been so shy when you’d first met, so unassuming next to Pope and Will and Benny. Tugging the brim of his cap to cover his eyes, a timid little smile playing on his face as you flirted with him, not his friends.

You couldn’t have expected the fucking monster between his thighs the first time you have him naked in your bed, his cock so thick you can barely wrap your hand around him. You don't expect the way you choke on him when you try to blow him, only for you to realize that you hadn't even made it halfway.

He doesn’t fuck you that night, the both of you too high on each other’s bodies and too tipsy from the bottle of wine you’d shared earlier.

“Need time to get you ready, hermosa,” he whispers in your ear, fucking you so hard and deep on his fingers you nearly cry. “Next time baby, next time.”

The first time he fucks you, he doesn’t make it all the way. You think you're ready, despite Frankie’s protests, begging him to fuck you, grinding into his mouth, into his fingers as he works orgasm after orgasm out of your heaving body. Through your blurry eyes, you can see the way his hips thrust gently into the mattress, fucking himself into your sheets as he eats you out, groaning into your pussy as you gush down his face. It’s fucking maddening.

He lines himself up, pressing into you gently, so gently, but God, it’s already too much. Too fucking much. You gasp as the thick head of his cock presses into your entrance, spreading you so much wider than his fingers, wider than you’ve ever been stretched. It fucking stings, and you dig your nails into Frankie’s shoulders as you try to take it for him.

He only sinks in halfway before your body just can’t take it anymore, squeezing him so tight that he can’t possibly move deeper. Tears spring to your eyes at the feeling of it, and you try to apologize, but Frankie only leans down to seal his mouth to yours, kissing the breath out of your lungs.

“Feels so fucking good,” he mutters against your lips, sounding so fucking wrecked, and you throb around him at the sound of it. “Your little pussy is so fucking tight.”

You feel lightheaded at the destroyed rasp of his voice, and when he moves, you feel lightning rocket up your spine, whining loudly against his lips. He grins, the shy boy from the bar long gone as he thrusts until he’s halfway in again, fucking you on only half his cock as you keen beneath him. You have no idea how he’ll ever fit inside completely, how just half of him fills you up more than anyone else ever has. “Wanna take all of you,” you gasp, “want it all inside, fuck, Frankie, please.”

He shushes you gently, smoothing his hands down your sides. “Mi amor, we need more time to get you ready,” he murmurs softly. “Next time, baby, next time.”

He fucks you just like that, breaking you open with just half of his cock and fisting the base in a large, warm palm until you squeeze around him with your orgasm. When you beg him to cum inside you, he groans, pumping you full, gripping tight to your thighs. You promise yourself that next time you'll take all of him.

The first time you take Frankie, really, truly take him, you think that he’s more affected than you are.

You’re so wet, dripping down your thighs from Frankie’s endless preparation, his lips shiny with your slick as he leans down to kiss you slowly, deliberately. You find that you don’t mind the taste of yourself.

He’s been fucking you on his thick fingers for what seems like hours, spreading you so wide, wide enough that you thought you’d break.

You don’t know how many times he’s made you cum, how many times he’s told you that it’ll make you looser, get you ready. You think he just likes watching you fall apart, his eyes blown wide as you tremble against the sheets.

When he finally, finally notches the thick tip of his cock against your entrance, pushing forward slowly, you try to brace yourself for pain. It’s so much, he’s so much, and it should hurt, fuck, you should feel like you’re being ripped apart.

But your mind is foggy with desperation, your need to finally fit him inside, that you can barely feel the pain at all. You can only gasp for air as his cock stretches you wide, pressing in so deep it’s like you can feel it in your lungs. And he just slides in, easy as that, as if it was easy all along.

And as much as you moan and gasp, your fingers clutching into the skin of his back, it is nothing compared to the way Frankie fucking whines at the feeling of it, his head dropping into the crook of your neck as he stills his hips, pressed in as deep as he can get.

“Fuck me, please, oh my God, Frankie,” you gasp, grinding your hips against his on pure instinct, desperate to get him in deeper, somehow. But his hands tighten on you, gripping so hard you think he’ll leave bruises.

“Stop,” he says, deep and raspy and fucking primal. “Stop fucking moving, shit, ‘m trying not to fucking cum.” He sounds goddamn sinful, and your pussy throbs at the sheer idea of him filling you up just from finally fitting inside you. You let him breathe through it, raking your nails gently up his back. He shivers at your touch.

You suck air in through your teeth when he pulls out, just barely, only to fuck back in. He does it again, and again, and again, thrusting so deep into you that his cock fucking drags into your sweet spot, not even trying. You’ve never felt so fucking full before.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so goddamn tight, don’t even know how I can fuckin’ fit,” he mutters, pulling your thighs tighter around his hips and pulling you down onto his thick cock with every thrust. “This little cunt is just sucking me in, ‘s like she can’t get enough.”

“God, yes, Frankie please,” you choke out between labored breaths, your vision blurring at the edges. All you can fucking feel, hear, smell is Frankie above you, warm and towering over you, filling you up so perfect.

“So goddamn pretty wrapped around my cock,” he growls, pounding into you hard enough that tears start to pour down your cheeks. “My greedy baby, am I big enough for you?”

“Fuck! Yes, it’s so- it’s so fuckin’ big, Frankie, I can feel it in my fucking stomach.” You’re slurring your words, your brain turned to mush as Frankie breaks you apart so viciously. He reaches between you to rub quick circles into your clit with a calloused thumb, and your body locks up, your back arching so far it presses your tits into Frankie’s strong chest.

“That’s right, honey, just fuckin’ feel it. Nobody else can fill you up like I can, right?” he snarls, and you can only nod frantically, choked moans punched from your throat every time he thrusts inside you. “Cum, sweetheart. Show me how much you love my big cock.”

And you have no other choice but to fucking scream, pulsing violently around him as you cum. You’re fucking lost in it, broken apart in the best way possible, and Frankie groans, stilling inside of your as he fills you up with cum. It’s pure bliss, a goddamn revelation, and you don’t think it’s ever going to fucking stop. He smothers your cries with a kiss, licking into your mouth and soothing you like a wild animal as you both ride out the aftershocks.

When you finally feel yourself start to breathe normally again, to find it in yourself to blink blearily up at him, smiling softly when you see him already staring down at you. As he pulls out of you, you feel the emptiness immediately, whining as he shushes you gently. “I know, honey, I know,” he murmurs, falling beside you and pulling you into him. “You did so good for me.”

“Damn right I did,” you murmur, sleep already weighing down your eyelids. “Who else is going to take that monster dick of yours?”

He laughs, loud and gruff in the most perfectly Frankie-way you could possibly imagine. “Don’t act like you didn’t fucking love it, hermosa.”

And, well, you don’t really have arguments for that.

#fic recs #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #what are queue doing here?

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luxurychristmaspudding · 1 day

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rules: give four men who make you yell “MY MAN, MY MAN, MY MAN!!!!”

tagged by the wonderful @schnarfer @pascalssbabyy @joelsgreenflannel <333

here are my mans

np tags: @magpiepills @syd-djarin @sixhours @din-jarring @itsokbbygrl @5oh5 ❤️

and shameless bonus 😮‍💨

#tag games #my MEN

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luxurychristmaspudding · 1 day

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🫶🏼 moodboard tag game 🫶🏼

thank you for the tag @itsokbbygrl!!

go to pinterest and search:

colour of your phone background+ aesthetic || favourite animal + aesthetic || name + core || movie you rewatched multiple times as a child + aesthetic || favourite time of the day + aesthetic || first word of your favourite song + aesthetic

aware that i am once again late to this - so if you see this on your dash and fancy taking part, consider this your tag <3

#tag games

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luxurychristmaspudding · 1 day

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javier peña in every episode of narcos

1x10 despegue

booty call…he’s so stressed and wound up, whatever shall you do to help him release the tension? hmm…

#need this man in a way that is literally so concerning for feminism #pedro pascal #javier peña #narcos #🩸carly screencaps #🩸carly gifs

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luxurychristmaspudding · 3 days

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I LOVE IT I LOVE IT I LOVE IT I LOVE IT I LOVE IT I LOVE IT I LOVE IT I LOVE IT I LOVE IT I LOVE IT

SWEET MARCUS YOU SAD SOPPY BASTARD COME HOME AND LET ME LOVE YOU

I love how simple and lovely this is. I love how his sadness and his worry and his longing drip through the words. And I love that it ended just the way it should. Together again 🖤

Raining in Baltimore - Marcus Pike one shot

Marcus Pike x f!reader

Rating: Pure fluff but this blog is 18 + only please

Summary: Where you should be, no one's around

Word count: 7,92

Content: Sad, quite soggy Marus POV but happy ending, some snogs

A/N: This is my little drabble/one shot type thing for @undercoverpena April Showers's Challenge! I've never written Marcus before and inspiration struck when I was wide awake at 4am, so hopefully this makes sense and isn't a fever dream of fluff and rain. Counting Crow's Raining in Baltimore was circling in my brain and this is result of that rather melancholy tune combined with Marcus's puppy dog eyes!

Listen to: Counting Crows Raining in Baltimore (obvi)

It’s raining in Baltimore and Marcus Pike doesn’t have a raincoat. He walks in urgent, sure strides as he pushes himself onto the train, gripping a cold metal pole to steady his feet on the slippery floor. Resists the urge to shake his head like a dog to remove the raindrops that now soak his hair. A steady drip, drip, drip rolling onto his skin, a puddle pooling uncomfortably at the soles of his sodden feet.

Golden retriever energy, that’s what you’d said to him. It should have been cute, a term of endearment, but the bite in your voice made him aware there was an edge to the supposed compliment. It was hard to judge, in a phone call coming from 3,500 miles away, nuances get lost in the ether and he couldn’t reach out to touch your face for reassurance.

He mulls it over sullenly now, in the cold light of the end of the day. Was it something he’d said, or not said, that caused a rupture in the line? A crackle that couldn’t be smoothed out with a kiss pressed onto your lips, a clutch of your body to his. Marcus can’t help but let a frown form on that normally easy face, frustrated when he’s trying real hard to keep it together, desperate to make being so far from you work.

There was no answer when he tried to ring you this morning. He’s lonely, all he ever wanted was a big love. Now he needs a raincoat and a phone call. Maybe a plane ride.

He’s left the damp, muggy carriage and is back out into the stormy street. The rain is relentless, so he stops trying to fight it, trudging and constant, attempting to quiet the circus that’s taken up residence in his head, replaying your last stilted conversation and wondering how he could have rescued it. Made you understand how he hates coming home to an empty apartment, that not waking up to the feel of your skin against his is almost painful. A dull ache that he can’t shift. A restlessness that doesn’t sit with his usual enthusiasm for life, the shine disappearing from his eyes the moment he realises, once again, that you’re not in the bed with him.

Just one more block to go. He’s soaked to the bone now, wipes uselessly at his eyes, decides against running the last few yards. Braces himself for everything in his apartment being exactly as he left it first thing this morning. Resolves to call you, try and make amends for whatever it was he did. Worries at his lip, knows really, it was leaving for this job that did it. Something he can’t undo.

He feels heavy, walking up the stairs, careful not to slide on the wet stone steps. Prepares himself to enter a cold, empty apartment. He lets the sadness of missing you settle into him as he searches for his keys, hard metal against his now freezing fingers.

A rush of warmth hits him as he swings open the door.

“Marcus! I’m so sorry I…” he doesn’t let you finish the sentence, a burst of energy overwhelms you as he takes you in his arms, kisses the words right out of your mouth with an urgency you don’t normally feel from him. It knocks the breath right out of you, makes you sink happily into him despite his soaking clothes.

He is cold to the touch, you press your palms to his face, try to share some of your body heat, gaze into those dark brown eyes and search for the light in them that you love so much.

His eyes shine right back at you and he looks so adorably confused, “Sweetheart, I can’t believe you’re actually here? I thought I’d upset you, I couldn’t bear it.”

“Marcus, my love,” you’re peeling his jacket off, undoing the buttons of the shirt that clings to his broad chest and wet skin, “I was just mad at you because I missed you too much. Decided there was only one way to fix that.”

He’s shivering as you pull his belt undone, fingers deft as you unbutton his trousers. “Let’s get you in a hot shower and then I’m going to make you pancakes.”

He swoops in for another kiss as he steps out of his trousers, pressing himself against you with a longing that brings a flutter to your belly, as you tangle together.

This man. So earnest, so pure, impossible to be angry at. You’d worried that his unending kindness might damped your desire for him over time, but instead it grew with each sweetness, with every puppy-dog look in your direction.

“You coming in with me baby?”

“Hell yes.” You answer, pulling your t-shirt off over your head, enjoying his bright eyes taking you in. You trace a finger against those beautiful pouty lips, “Remind me to get you a raincoat baby.”

Note: All images from pinterest. Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Tagging in a couple of peeps i think would enjoy Marcus (let me know if you'd like to be taken off/added): @pascalssbabyy @toomanytookas @katareyoudrilling @luxurychristmaspudding @secretelephanttattoo

@freelancearsonist @bitchwitch1981

#fic recs #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #undercoveraprilshowerschallenge

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luxurychristmaspudding · 3 days

Note

back here also. forgot exactly what this fic does to me. have to go and stare out a window and think about how long I can live in a sports bra.

the most insane work as always 😵‍💫

Hello! If you’re taking requests currently (if not I apologize), but I have one that’s eating away at my brain. Joel and a reader with nipple piercings. Thanks and I love you and your writing 💓💓💓

flesh and metal | joel miller x f!reader

pairing: joel miller x f!reader rating: 18+ minors dni word count: 2.4k summary: [no outbreak] porn no plot. you meet joel at a bar. he really likes your nipple piercings. that's about it. warnings etc: smut, oral (m receiving), mild hair pulling, a lot of spit, face fucking, titty fucking, nipple play, coming untouched, nasty dirty blowjob bc i said so, joel miller is a boob man. no use of y/n. a/n: i wanted this to be longer but alas, my brain so said no. dedicated to @mrsquill.

You have absolutely no qualms over telling men to "fuck off" at the bar.

Most nights, you're content to drink alone, or else enjoy the company of friends, staving off unwanted attention with an errant flick of your wrist or something a little more stern, if necessary.

Of course, then there are nights like tonight. Nights where you leave the house with intention, hoping to nab a beautiful stranger on your own terms. When you'd donned your short denim skirt and thin white camisole, flesh and metal poking through the delicate fabric, you'd known the message you'd been sending. You'd known what you'd wanted.

Tonight, it had started with a drink. Doesn't it always start with a drink? You'd already turned down a couple of willing suitors, men you may have otherwise settled for if you'd only been able to take your eyes off him all night. In his forties or fifties - you can't be sure - broad and strong, all greying curls and deep brown eyes. He'd taken up an entire booth to himself, nodding offhandedly to passing servers and patrons. Dark plaid had strained over wide shoulders and big hands had clutched a crystal glass of bourbon. And those eyes - they'd just kept finding yours.

You hadn't been waiting for a cue, but you'd been grateful when he'd offered one, cocking his chin for you to join him after you'd downed the tequila shot the bartender had informed you had come from, "the fella in the booth over there."

He hadn't said much but he hadn't needed to; all the usual tells had been there. All the lingering stares and polite compliments. And your favourite, of course, the one most men fall victim to - the one where their eyes flit down to your chest, noticing the nubs of steel poking through your shirt on the peak of each of your breasts, the gears turning in their brains as they ask themselves all the usual questions:

Do they make her nipples more sensitive?

Does she like when someone sucks on them?

Will she let me?

And he'd find out soon enough, but the answers are yes, yes and yes.

"Wanna get outta here?" he'd asked before he'd even finished his drink, when all you'd parsed from him was his name - Joel Miller - and the fact he'd been there on a rare night out. Maybe for the same reason as you.

It's how you end up here, crowded up against the wall of his front entry while his mouth devours yours, his massive hands greedy where they grab at your arms and waist. His touch is certain and forceful when his fingers coil around the base of your throat to press your skull into the drywall, giving him free rein to explore your neck with his lips and teeth.

He's not slow. He's not patient. When his thigh invades the space between your legs, you grind your clothed heat into it and he doesn't stop you.

His lips find yours again and you charge your kiss with new fervor, all wild, hungry energy when you bite down on his plush bottom lip and he groans into your mouth.

"God, you're so fuckin' hot," he rasps, one hand moving lower to hike your skirt up over your thighs. "Wanted you like this all night."

There's a deliciously dark edge to his voice that makes your skin prickle with anticipation. You can tell already -

This man is going to give you exactly what you need.

"Me too, Joel," you sigh, clutching at the sides of his face to reconnect your mouths, speaking through heated kisses. You waste no time, reaching between your bodies to run your fingers over the bulge in his jeans. "I want this."

Joel growls, low in his chest, and then he's pulling back, tilting your face upwards with a firm hand on your chin.

"Open for me?" he requests and there's just a hint of doubt there - almost as if he's testing the waters, gauging just how willing you are to yield to him.

And you are so, so fucking willing.

You glance up at him, batting your lashes as you loosen your jaw, presenting your tongue for him without hesitation.

Two thick fingers are taking up your mouth then and his gaze darkens as he watches you close your lips around them instinctively, eyelids fluttering shut. His skin tastes like salt and leather.

Joel's mouth twitches into a smirk.

"That's good, honey," he says. "Dirty little thing, aren't you?"

You just nod and suck until Joel bring his fingers, coated with your spit, to the apex of your thighs, shoving the thin fabric of your underwear aside to rake them over your folds.

He catches your responding gasp with his mouth, licking between your parted lips as his fingers toy sloppily with your clit. He hums in approval when you melt into the wall, already dripping wet and weak for him.

"Take your shirt off," he orders, his fingers still working your clit as you lift the fabric over your head. You keep your eyes on him, watching his pupils widen as his gaze falls to your breasts, those gears in his brain turning all over again when he sees them bare -

The metal bars that pierce each pebbled nipple, shining in the dim light of his living room. He curses lowly and then it's as though he forgets your pussy altogether, both his hands suddenly overtaking your tits, big palms cupping the flesh there while his thumbs experimentally flick over the piercings.

And - fuck - it never gets old how fucking good that feels.

You moan, a high-pitched, keening sound, revelling in the feel of those calloused thumbs skirting over soft skin and hard metal. Your pussy pulses between your legs, wetness gathering and pooling at your centre, staining his dark jeans. Unconsciously, you grind into his thigh, seeking friction where you need it most, while Joel, engrossed in his efforts, suddenly tweaks each pierced nub between two fingers, tugging curiously at the bars and making you cry out in a mixture of pain of pleasure.

"Shit, yeah, you like that?" he asks and before you can answer, he does it again, clouding your thoughts till there's only him and the rough drag of his thumbs over your nipples, the grinding friction of denim against your aching cunt. He chuckles darkly at you falling apart for him, easily folding when he grits out, "You gonna let me fuck you?"

You nod, overtly eager, and then he's guiding you up the stairs to his bedroom, stripping you out of your skirt the second you're through the door, exposing your lacey black panties beneath.

Rough hands grip your waist and pull you into his chest, Joel's mouth crushing yours in another commanding kiss. He's a good kisser, you think, greedy and indulgent, messy in the best way. His hands find your tits again, pinching and prodding at your pierced nipples - fascinated. He likes them, you note; can't seem to keep his hands off them.

You love that.

You're so lost in his touch and his kiss that you barely notice the backs of your knees hitting the edge of his bed until he wrenches his mouth free from yours, that firm grip on your waist pushing you down so you're seated and staring up at him.

"Right there, baby, you sit right fuckin' there," he instructs you as he unzips his jeans and frees his cock, hard and leaking and right at your eye line.

"Show me that mouth."

You part your lips without a second thought, staring up at him as he guides the tip of his cock into your waiting mouth, groaning as he presses his hips forward hastily, impatient.

Perfect.

He takes a moment there, softly cups your face in his massive palm, traces a thumb over your cheekbone. Sweet, for a just a fleeting breath.

"Gonna fuck your pretty little face, okay?" he tells you.

Fuck - yes.

You moan around him and it seems to egg him on; a hand curls into the hair at the back of your head and you let him hold you steady as he begins to fuck your face in slow, agonizing thrusts. The tip of him collides with the back of your throat on each stroke, his impressive girth straining your jaw. Coarse hairs brush at your upper lip each time he pushes in deep and your throat opens obligingly to take him.

"Keep it open real fuckin' wide for me," he says as unwitting tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You hum contentedly, slackening your jaw as much as you can and Joel moans lewdly, the pace of his thrusts coming faster, rougher, now that he knows you can take it. You work to breathe through your nose as you choke and splutter around his cock, spit dripping from the corners of your mouth and soaking his length. Salt streams from your eyes and you gasp for air when he eventually pulls you off him with a firm hand in your hair and a wrecked growl.

"Fuck me. Get it nice and wet for me," he orders you, even as thin strings of saliva connect your lips to his cock. Still, you do as he says, fixing your eyes on his as you collect a pool of spit on your tongue and aim it onto his length. You wrap your wet, puffy lips around him and bob up and down till he glistens with you.

"Yeah, there you go. Good girl."

You beam at the praise, sitting back into your hands as you await further instruction. Joel's eyes dart down to your chest again and you think you know what he wants. Sure enough -

"Squeeze those tits together."

You obey without question, arching your back and clutching at the sides of your breasts, tightly pressing them together as Joel inches closer. He reaches out to flick his thumb over a pierced nipple, half-hooded gaze intent on your chest as he spits a slow stream of saliva there, watching as it disappears between the valley of your breasts.

There's a low grunt, a shaky exhale, and then he's wedging his stiff length between your tits. He holds you in place with a solid hand on your shoulder, thick fingers pressing down hard enough to bruise while he slowly fucks your tits. You throw your head back, raking your thumbs over your nipples while you squeeze his cock a little tighter between the swells of your breasts.

"That feel good?" he asks, his low voice strained as he eyes your thumbs working over your nipples. "When you play with 'em?"

You bite your lip and nod because it's true; it feels fucking amazing, those tiny spears of steel heightening every minute sensation just like they always do. Joel murmurs, "Shit," like you've just made him aware of something vital, backing off and dropping to his knees between your legs, barely giving you a chance to catch you breath before he's licking a thick stripe through your soaking folds, his hands shooing yours away to firmly cup your bare breasts.

He moans at the taste of your arousal on his tongue but he doesn't linger there long. No, instead he moves to your chest, sucking a pierced nipple into his mouth and experimentally swirling his tongue over the hardened nub.

He hums in approval at the way it makes you curse and moan and cry his name, relentless as he moves to the other nipple and repeats that pattern - swirling and sucking, swirling and sucking - his massive palms eclipsing the globes of your breasts as he squeezes them tightly together.

You writhe under his mouth, your neglected pussy drenching his sheets and clenching around nothing - but Joel doesn't let up. His tongue flicks over each nipple in deliberate, coaxing strokes. When he bites down, the clanging sound of teeth hitting metal makes your insides curl. White heat gathers in your core as your breathing grows ragged, panted moans rising in pitch and Joel - Joel seems acutely aware of the response.

"Bet you can come just from this, can't you?" he whispers hoarsely.

You shake your head, braced on your elbows. "Need more, Joel. I don't - "

You don't know. Impossibly, it feels like you could come, Joel's tongue insistent over your nipples, the precise laps of his tongue increasing in pace and strength, drawing you nearer and nearer to some impending edge.

"You're close, aren't you?" he purrs, voice low, and the vibrating sensation of his voice against your nipples is downright dizzying. Your eyes roll back into your skull and you fist his sweaty curls, holding his face flush against your chest because -

"Yes."

"I wanna see," he mumbles huskily against your skin. "I wanna see you come like this."

He works his tongue feverishly over each nipple; first one, then the other, over and over, his mouth wide as he licks obscenely over them, fucking shameless with it, lasciviously enthusiastic.

"Fuckfuckfuck," you stammer wildly when he resumes the firm, lithe flicks of his tongue over one, swollen, puffy nipple, flesh straining and wet around glistening steel. Tension pulls taut at your nerves; your cunt aches and slick pools at your centre and before you can even warn him, you're coming, shuddering violently as you arch back into the mattress with a gasp.

How in the fuck?

Your neglected pussy throbs as the unlikely climax washes you in waves of overwhelming heat that's somehow burning hot and perfect and still not nearly fucking enough. You're moaning out a symphony all the same, Joel following you down into the sheets, caging you in as he hovers over you and sucks hard at a nipple, circling the piercing under his tongue until you start to see white.

"Joel - fuck - please - s'too much," you beg, writhing beneath him and clawing at his shoulders till he pulls off your tit with a wet pop. He watches your face closely until he feels you've caught your breath before diving forward to lick a fat stripe over the same nipple he'd just finished with. He smirks devilishly when you squirm away from the contact with a squeal.

"So fuckin' sensitive," he marvels.

He climbs off you at last, tersely telling you, "Up," while he stands to lift his shirt over his head and pull his jeans off.

You think he means on the bed so you quickly move to all fours, positioning yourself ass up for him willingly. Joel laughs as he comes up behind you, assertively smacking the meat of your thigh.

"I don't think so, sweetheart," he says. "Wanna see those perfect fuckin' tits bouncin' when you're ridin' my cock."

#fic recs #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller

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