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neocherryb0mb · 10 days

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Lavender

You receive a pleasurable massage from Ezra. (4.1k)

Tags - smut, massages, unethical!ezra, softest of soft!dom, wax play, hands in places hands shouldn't be, teasing, fingering, oral (f! receiving) masturbation, ezra creams his pants #creamernation, slight dom vibes from ezra, chamomille tea, ezra is a silvertongued menace, light foot action - assume reader has clean tootsies. Fic help - @endlessthxxghts and @beefrobeefcal thank you both for holding my hand through this!!! and for hyping me up, and for being the best part of my day!!! LOVE YOU!!! A/N - hey hey motherfuckers 😛 I hope you enjoy! First time writing Ezra and it’s for my beautiful @noxturnalpascal’s birthday that was a couple weeks ago 🩷 patti i'm not sorry for what i've done. also i love you.

After a sixteen hour drive back home from visiting your family, you’re in nothing but pain. There’s an awful, pinching feeling at your lower back, your hips and knees ache, and your neck is sore. Even laying down in your bed hurts.

You try a couple of different solutions to remedy yourself. Ice pack, heating pad - you never know when you’re supposed to use one or the other. You try stretching, yoga, and increasing your water intake. But after four days of agony, you’ve had it.

There’s a light-purple colored piece of cardstock that’s been hung up on your fridge by a magnet for the last few months. It’s a gift certificate to a spa called Lavender, you won it in a raffle at a charity drag show.

Call (212) 929-5804 to schedule a 90 minute massage of your choice, and please bring this voucher with you to your appointment.

I look forward to pleasuring you.

-Ezra

You feel a flutter in your gut as you read those words: pleasuring you. Fuck, you’re so touch starved, and you begin to imagine what this Ezra could look like. You’re getting ahead of yourself. Before you get lost in your dirty thoughts about a massage therapist you’ve never even met before, you need to book an appointment. When you flip the card over, you see a list of services offered by Ezra. Massages of all kinds - chakra balancing, prenatal, PMS, stress-relief, hot stone, cupping, deep tissue. You’re not really sure what you’re looking for, but you schedule your appointment anyway.

Friday at 6:40pm, you leave your apartment and begin walking to Lavender. It’s only about a fifteen minute walk away, which you don’t mind because the weather is cooling down and the leaves are beginning to change color. You enjoy the scenery. At 6:57, you walk into the small office for your appointment, a bell jingling as you push open the door. The shades are drawn over the windows, blocking out what little light is cast by the setting sun in the overcast sky. It smells smokey, like incense. Gentle music plays as you wait at the front desk for someone to help you.

After a moment, a man comes out through a door behind the desk. He’s taller, his face is handsome under the low light. His hair is dark apart from a very prominent streak of white in his hairline, his beard and mustache are neatly trimmed and graying. And as he makes his way closer to you, you make out a peculiar curved scar on his cheek, right next to a sharp, aquiline nose. The man smiles warmly at you and you silently pray to any god that’ll listen that he’s your massage therapist, and not just the person working the front desk.

“I believe you must be my 7 o’clock, yes?”

Hallelujah.

“Yes, that’s my appointment.”

“Your name, my dove?”

You’re going weak in the knees. He speaks in a low voice, a syrupy thick southern accent pouring from his pouty lips. You tell him your name, tripping over your syllables. The man chuckles, “I’m Ezra. Pleased to meet you,” he says, taking your hand in his before pressing a gentle kiss to your trembling knuckles. “I sense anxiety, my dove. Would I be correct in that assumption?”

You nod. “A little, yeah. Sorry. It’s my first massage.” Ezra’s warm, chocolatey eyes roam your body and you feel flustered, “I uh - I have this…” you dig out the gift certificate from your purse, slightly crumpled now. “From the raffle at that drag show.”

“Ah, yes,” Ezra smiles, taking the certificate from you. “Thank you,” he says, smoothing out the crinkles in the paper. He notices you tapping your fingers rhythmically on his desk, and covers your hand with his own. “There’s no need for anxiety, darlin’. You’re in good hands with me. Perhaps a cup of tea to soothe those nerves of yours before I get started with you?��

“That’d be great, yeah,” you reply.

Ezra opens a nearby cabinet. “What are you in the mood for this evening?”

“Not really sure,” you answer, humming as you think. “Do you have suggestions?”

“That I do,” he says. “I’d suggest somethin’ herbal, no need for caffeine so late. I’ve got peach, I’ve got chamomile vanilla…” Ezra trails off, moving various boxes in the cabinet. “Hot chocolate too, f’ya want.”

“The vanilla one. Please.”

“The vanilla one it shall be, then.”

Ezra makes you a small cup of tea, sweetening it with a bit of honey per your request. He sits you down in a comfortable chair and carefully places the warm mug on an end table next to you, then hands you a clipboard.

“Just some routine paperwork I’d appreciate if you’d fill out for me as I get your room situated. Hope that’s not an issue.”

“Not at all.”

Ezra thanks you and exits the room, leaving you to fill out the paperwork. It’s all the usual questions: Name, date of birth, email, phone number, emergency contact. After that it asks of any allergies, medical conditions, or major surgeries to be aware of. You answer each question accordingly, and then the last section is made up of questions about your massage preferences.

Massage type? (Chakra balancing, prenatal, PMS, stress-relief, hot stone, cupping, deep tissue) - Unsure.

Any areas of the body that need to be focused on or avoided? - Unsure.

Preferred pressure? (light, medium, hard) - Unsure.

Any other preferences or details you’d like to add? - Unsure.

You click the pen and lay it on the completed paperwork, then sip your steaming tea. You wiggle your foot as you anxiously await Ezra’s return.

“I’m ready for you, sweet dove.”

Ezra’s waiting by the door behind the front desk. You drink the last of your tea and follow Ezra into the room, where he takes his clipboard back from you. The room is dark, darker than the waiting area. It’s lit by a couple of plain candles, warm light flickering against the walls as soft piano music plays from a speaker. “Your purse,” Ezra motions for you to remove your bag, then hangs it over a hook on the door. “And your jacket, if I may,” he murmurs from behind you, hooking his fingers between the collar of your jacket and your body, waiting for you to unzip it before he pulls it off of your shoulders and hangs it up. Your skin tingles as his fingers brush over you, just a taste of what’s to come.

“Undress for me as I go over your paperwork outside. I’ll knock on the door and wait for your word before re-entering.”

“How much? How…” you trail off, bashful as you try to complete the sentence. Ezra knows what you’re trying to ask, though. “To your leisure, darlin’, though my suggestion would be to the nude, jewelry and all. The choice is yours. And once you’re done, lie on the table for me. You may protect your modesty with the towel I’ve provided for you right here.” Ezra pats a white towel that sits folded on the counter, next to a little crystal jewelry dish.

Ezra leaves, gently shutting the door behind himself. He examines your paperwork behind the closed door as he hears rustling on the other side, the sound of you undressing. You leave your clothes in a pile on a chair, then cover your body with the towel. You lay on the massage table, pleasantly surprised that Ezra’s been warming it for you. You’re still a little nervous, so you focus on breathing deeply and calming yourself down as you wait to hear Ezra’s knock. You listen to the gentle piano playing, trying to place where you’ve heard this song before.

Knock knock.

“Come in,” you call out, and Ezra opens the door. He closes it again softly and stands by the counter, readying some supplies. “What’s this song?”

“S’a piano cover of The Cure,” Ezra answers. “Last Day of Summer.”

“Mmm. I never really liked them,” you admit.

Ezra chuckles softly. “To each their own, I ‘spose. But I must inform you that you’re missin’ out, my dove.”

You’re grateful Ezra can’t see your smile or your bashful expression at the pet name as you rest your face in the cradle of the table. “I do like this,” you tell him. “The piano cover.”

“I do too. Relaxing, ain’t it?”

“Yeah, it is. Very.”

“Indeed. Now, I’d like to go over a couple of items on your paperwork before we commence. I believe you had stated that you’ve never received a massage before, correct?”

“That’s correct.”

“And you’re unsure of your preferences or areas of your body I should pay special attention to or avoid.”

“That’s right, yeah.” Ezra hums in response, then goes quiet. “...I hope that’s not a problem?”

“Worry not, dove, s’not a problem at all. Jus’ means I’ll be takin’ a more…experimental approach to massagin’ your body, s’all.”

“Oh. Uh…experimental how?”

“Your massage will entail the utilization of a variety of techniques, to thoroughly explore all parts of your body. By my listenin’ to both your verbal and nonverbal cues, and by checkin’ in, askin’ you questions about how you’re feelin’,” Ezra explains, “I’ll get to know your body and how best to please you. It’ll make things run nice an’ creamy for us both.”

“O-okay. That sounds good.”

You’re in trouble. Each of Ezra’s words, spoken through a honey-sweet tone, goes straight to your core. You wonder how slick you are between your thighs, if Ezra’ll notice.

“I believe we’re ready to begin, then, dove.”

Ezra lights some dragon’s blood scented incense, then washes his hands with hot water. Best not to startle you with cold hands. He approaches you on the massage table, you can smell him even through the smokey scent of the incense. He’s clean and citrusy, you wonder what cologne he wears. He places something on a rolling table and then reaches for your towel, gently tugging the tucked in ends from beneath your body. “Lift up a little for me, my dove. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

You hoist yourself up, lifting your torso into the air so Ezra can pull the ends of the towel from under you. Cool air hits the skin of your exposed breasts, though your nipples are already hardened by your arousal. Once you lie back down, Ezra folds the towel down your torso so that only your ass and legs remain covered. “And I’ll be talkin’ you through my process, so nothin’ comes as a surprise.”

“Mm.”

“Gonna begin by drizzling some oil over your back, to keep your skin nice and properly lubricated as I massage you. Ready?”

“Ready,” you mumble.

“But first…It seems you’ve forgotten to remove your jewelry,” he whispers, unclasping the necklace you wear. You lift slightly so that he can carefully remove the chain and pendant, then sets it down. Ezra takes the item he set on the rolling table, a massage candle that’s been burning for a while, the oil completely liquified. He holds it a couple inches above your back and then tilts it, hot oil dripping down your skin and surprising you. “My apologies, dove. I didn’t intend to startle you. You’ll get used to the warmth, I promise.”

Ezra drips a bit more oil on your body, then sets it back down on the rolling table. “Gonna touch you, now,” he whispers. You sigh as you feel his hands finally touch your skin, calloused palms rubbing the oil from your shoulders down to your lower back. He begins by massaging your neck, thumbs sliding down your skin, over and over and over before traveling lower, massaging your traps and shoulders, the backs of your arms a little bit. His hands travel back up your shoulders where the skin meets your neck and massages with a firm pressure, causing you to wince. “Ohh, I know, I know. You’re quite tender, there, my dove. If you’d so kindly allow me to work out this tightness, I think it’d benefit you tremendously.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

Ezra massages you by pressing firmly into your skin, thumbs moving in circles, back and forth. “Relax,” he whispers. “Soften yourself. I’ve got you. Breathe in…”

You draw in a deep breath, Ezra’s movements momentarily pausing.

“...And out.”

On your exhale, he massages the tense part of your neck, satisfied at how you’ve relaxed your body for him. He works out the tension, “Good, attagirl,” he praises, hands sliding down the rest of your back. He uses long strokes to massage up and down your spine, then your sides. You let out soft noises, noises indicating pleasure, not pain. Ezra notices how you quiet yourself, voiceless exhales instead of moans. “You don’t have to quiet yourself on my account, dove. I encourage any vocal or physical manifestation of your pleasure.”

Ezra’s hands feel like magic as they travel up and down your back, squeezing and sliding over your oiled skin. He walks his hands down your arms, down your palms, pausing when he reaches your fingers, “I believe you’ve forgotten to remove some more jewelry, darlin’. May I take these rings off of your fingers?”

“Yeah, please.”

Ezra wiggles your rings off of the fingers of your right hand, then the left. They make soft, metallic noises as they clink against each other in Ezra’s palm. “Beautiful rings, my dear,” he murmurs before setting them down on the rolling cart, next to the necklace he’d taken off for you. Ezra massages your forearms, your wrists, your palms and fingers, first one hand and then the other. When he’s done, you hear the soft shuffle of fabric as he moves to the end of the massage table, rolling his cart with him. “I’d like to ask for consent before massaging your feet, my dove, as I’ve been kicked before by some rather ticklish clients.”

“I’m a little ticklish, too” you admit shyly. “I can never get pedicures because of it. Have to do my toes at home.”

Ezra chuckles. “I find that firm pressure is most effective in preventing that sensation. May I try?”

“Yes, go ahead.”

Ezra pours a bit of oil in his hands and rubs them together before reaching for one of your feet, your toes wiggling and curling at his touch. “Shh, jus’ relax,” he coos softly, smirking at your sensitivity. With a steady, hard pressure, Ezra massages your foot. “Focus on your breathin’. It’s ‘sposed to feel good, I ain’t tryin’ to play a dirty trick on you.”

The tickling sensation is there, but with steady, deep breaths, you’re able to control it and allow yourself the pleasure of having your feet massaged. You stretch out the way a cat does when it relaxes, and Ezra smiles in satisfaction. “There it is. Feel good?”

“S’good,” you sigh.

Ezra massages from your feet to your ankles, then folds the towel up and over your ass to expose your legs fully. He massages from your ankles up your calves, and oh - it feels incredible. You moan freely, feeling more confident to do so after his kind encouragement. You melt under his touch, arching into it as he works up your thighs, drizzling more oil before rubbing your skin. His hands are kneading the plump flesh of your ass now, one hand on each cheek, his thumbs close to your pussy. He admires that pretty diamond shape of your ass and thighs framing your bare pussy, and he notices how you drip for him. “Ezra,” his name slips from your lips in a whimper as he spreads your cheeks, rubbing his thumbs over the coarse hair that surrounds your cunt.

“You seem quite enthused, little dove,” Ezra smirks.

“Yeah…feel - feels good. So good, s-so…”

“I’m pleased to hear it, my darlin’.”

“Ezra,” you whine in betrayal when you feel Ezra’s hands leave your body, the pressure of his touch lingering on your skin.

“My, such an ardent complaint,” Ezra remarks. “I hate to disappoint, but I implore you to trust my process. I won’t leave you dissatisfied, sweetheart.” Ezra unfolds the towel back over your body, then lifts it slightly, “Now, on your back for me.”

You flip yourself onto your back, and once settled, Ezra folds the towel down to cover your lower half, leaving your breasts exposed. He keeps the temperature of the air in the room warm, but your nipples are hardened anyway, hardened by your arousal. Your heart pounds as you watch him, your chest rising and falling with steady breaths. You turn your head to watch him reach for his massage oil candle, your breath hitching when you see his pants visibly tented by his erection. He doesn’t bother hiding it.

Ezra watches you with dark, sparkling eyes as he drips the oil on your body, the candlelight flickering, illuminating his handsome features with a warm glow. He massages your shoulders and your chest, hands gliding over your breasts and abdomen, then back up again. You gasp when his thumb catches your nipple, and Ezra raises an eyebrow. He circles your areola with his thumb, pinching and twisting your other nipple gently, teasing you. “Fuck,” you cry out, raising your hand to hold Ezra’s strong, muscular, veiny forearm.

“You’re doin’ so good,” he whispers, then places your hand down at your side. He pulls the towel down your body some more as he massages down your sides and your hips, lifting one of your legs so he can massage both sides of your thigh. Your legs are spread for him, pussy on display and glistening with your arousal. “Oh, little dove. Such a mess you’re makin’ of my table.”

You bite your lip and whine as Ezra’s fingers just barely touch your lips, achingly close to where you need his touch the most. “I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“I don’t wanna hear you apologizin’, sweetheart. I won’t stand for it,” Ezra lays your bent leg back down, then rounds the table and lifts your other leg. “‘Sides,” he says, “S’only natural, how your body reacts to my touch. Nothin’ to be ashamed of.”

You smile shyly as Ezra massages up and down your thigh, teasing you just how he did before. You tilt yourself into his touch, moaning as he approaches your wet cunt, waiting to feel his fingers between your folds. But you never do.

“We’re comin’ up on the end of our appointment,” Ezra warns. “If there’s an area of your body that you feel needs special attention before we conclude, let me know.”

“Ezra–” You reach for his wrist and urge him to touch you between your thighs.

“Something that still needs tending to, my dove?”

You nod frantically. “Please–”

“Use your words,” he interrupts, his voice low. “You have to ask me for what you want. I’m unable to alleviate your discomfort if you don’t tell me what you need, sweetheart.” Ezra’s fingers hover over your core, feeling the heat radiating from you. You stutter out something incoherent, and Ezra dips his fingers lower, ever so gently touching you. He traces your folds, waiting for your answer. “Ask me.”

“I want you to make me come, Ezra,” you beg, “Please.”

“I can do that in many ways. Tell me how, little dove. Tell me where you need me to touch you.”

Ezra wears a crooked smile. This, this is his loophole. He knows that technically, as a professional, this is a line he shouldn’t cross. But he can’t help himself, you moan so sweetly for him even without his fingers buried in your cunt. Sensation is subjective, so you can’t say his teasing is intentional, deliberate. It’s your own reaction, and not Ezra’s fault if you feel aroused during massage - after all, it’s a completely natural response to physical stimulation. By making you ask - beg - for what he’s coaxed you to want from him, Ezra evades responsibility. This is on you.

“I want your fingers in my pussy,” you breathe, pressing his thick fingers against your slick center. “Please.”

Ezra inserts his middle and ring fingers into your dripping hole, feeling your muscles tense around his digits as he gathers your arousal. He pulls his fingers back out and then traces up and down your pussy, loving the way his fingers slip and slide through your slick folds. He circles your clit once, twice, then explores the feeling of your lips again. “Check in with me, darlin’, how are you feeling?”

You answer Ezra’s question with a mess of breathy moans, and he chuckles at that. He paints steady circles around your clit and glides his other hand over your oiled body, fingers catching your pebbled nipples. Ezra leans over and keeps his face close to yours, grinning proudly when you gasp as he pushes those two fingers of his back inside you. Your legs clamp shut around his arm as he curls his fingers rhythmically, stroking that spongy, sweet spot inside of you that makes you squirm. “Ezra, Ezra,” you cry.

“Shhhh,” he hushes you, “Open up for me.” Ezra traces your face with his sharp nose, his hot, minty breath fanning over your skin. As you spread your legs, he bites your earlobe gently. “Stay like this now, little dove. Let me please you.”

Ezra stands up straight again, his warm, masculine hand sliding down your sternum and your stomach, fingers reaching for that tight bundle of nerves between your thighs. As he works his fingers inside you, he circles your clit, using both hands to pleasure you. You’re close, and it’s taken no time at all. Arching your back, you tilt your head and close your eyes as you lean into his touch, focusing on your impending release. “Look at me when you come,” he commands. “Eyes on me.”

“Fuck, Ezra–”

“I know, little dove, I know,” he coos.

He replaces his fingers with his tongue, knees cracking as he kneels before you. By pressing a button beneath the table he lowers it, bringing you to a comfortable height for himself. You don’t notice him dipping his fingers into the candle, then shoving his hand beneath the waistband of his linen pants. He toys with his hard cock, stiff member aching, leaking just for you.

All you can focus on is the pleasure building deep in your gut. You watch Ezra, he’s gazing upon you with hooded eyes. He seems entranced by it all, the sensation of your pulsing cunt, the slick noises his fingers make while inside you. He hums at your taste, that sweet, musky flavor of your pussy. You tug his dark hair as he circles your clit with his tongue, “Fuck, right there,” you gasp. “Right there, Ezra, please.”

As Ezra’s tongue slides over your clit, fingers steadily curling inside you, he pumps himself. His big hand slides up and down his shaft, he can feel each of his swollen, prominent veins under his palm. He grips himself tightly, fucking his fist with fervor.

“I’m there, I’m there,” you cry. You come on his tongue with loud, frantic moans, maintaining eye contact, just like he told you to do. He works you through it, your pussy soaking his fingers, his nose, arousal dripping all the way down into his palm. Moans of pleasure shifting to noises of overstimulation, Ezra continuing to fuck you on his fingers as he fucks his fist. He groans against your cunt as he comes, painting his own hand with hot, milky ropes of his come. He drags his release out, teasing both himself and you as he comes down.

Gently, Ezra pulls his fingers from your core, then pulls his own hand out of his pants. He turns to wash his hands at the sink but you stop him, reaching for his wrist. “N-need to taste you,” you breathe. “Let me taste you, Ezra.”

Ezra smiles warmly. “I’m flattered by your enthusiasm to reciprocate the pleasure, little dove, but I must confess I’ve taken care of my arousal already. This is your time to relax and to immerse yourself in pleasure, not mine.”

You pout.

“But if you desire to taste me…”

Ezra holds his hand in front of your face, fingers glistening with silky ribbons of his come. You bring his palm to your lips, then lick and suck his fingers clean of his spend, humming at the salty, heady taste.

When done, Ezra helps you sit up. “I’ll wait out front for you to get dressed, and then we can schedule a follow-up appointment,” he says, a mischievous look in his eye. “Don’t forget your jewelry on my cart, little dove.”

Comments, reblogs, and asks are so very appreciated!! I love to hear your kind words about my work, they keep me motivated to write for you all <3

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neocherryb0mb · 10 days

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neocherryb0mb · 10 days

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I’m Not Really A Waitress

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Javier Pena x f! Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: Javi takes you for a pedicure then reaps the rewards.

Warnings: SMUT! Unprotected PIV, fingering, foot job, toe sucking, cum eating, dirty talk, pet names, potential sugar daddy Javi, no age gap specified, no use of y/n, no physical description of reader beyond their genitals.

A word from the author: I have finally finished the anon request! ANON! Please let me know if this is what you wanted! No need to be shy! I love you. Javi loves you…anyway, this is my first foray into foot fetish fic and it was fun! I can definitely see Javi being into your piggies. I hope I did this justice. I did watch some foot fetish gifs to prepare!

“I can’t take it, Javi. Please, it’s too much.”

“You can take it. You’re going to. You’re going to take it and then you’re going to show me how much you like it. Gonna thank me properly, hm Carino?”

Javi pressed the money into your hand. He had done it for weeks and it hadn’t gotten any easier to take his money. Every Saturday morning he drove you to the little strip mall and sat in his Jeep, window down, cigarette smoke billowing out like a smoke stack, fidgeting anxiously, eyes scanning the parking lot behind the yellow mirror of his aviators while you went inside for a fresh manicure and pedicure.

Spoiling you was one of his only joys. Long days toiling in the office or in the field, sweating under his tactical vest, chain smoking as he watched Escobar slip away once again. If he could make you happy, even if he was damned for all he had done wrong maybe it wouldn’t all be for nothing.

He tried to stay alert, but he couldn’t take his eyes off you through the plate glass, settled placidly in the chair, long legs bare and feet soaking in turn as a woman an a smock knelt before you, painting your toenails, massaging your feet, buffing and lotioning them, kneading your calves as you closed your eyes, shoulders soft and head dropped against the back of the seat, serene.

After some number of cigarettes had been smoked, you floated back out to him, stepping carefully in little pink flip flops, toes held apart by a strip of foam with little prongs between each toe, sandals dangling from your hand as you climbed into the passenger seat, smelling sweet and, like every week, slid your feet into his lap for his inspection.

Gently he pulled the little divider from your toes and slipped off the flimsy slippers. “What color is this?” You always got red. You knew that was his favorite. He couldn’t tell the shades apart, but you always told him the silly names of each color, insisting that they were all very different. He was charmed. “It’s called I’m Not Really A Waitress. What do you think?” Javi squeezed your foot, pressing his thumb into the ball of your foot, watching as your toes flexed. “Looks really pretty, baby.” He chuckled, pulling your hand close to his face to admire your fingers. Soft and delicate, you rested your fingers over his, and he pressed a kiss into your knuckles. “We gotta get home.” He made the short drive to his apartment with your foot held against his thick, eager cock.

•••••

Javi wasted no time, guiding you in the door and through the dark living room to his bedroom. You knew the routine. He liked undressing you himself, undoing buttons, untying bows, pulling down zippers. He saved his favorite for last, guiding you to lie on your back on his bed so he could unbuckle your sandals. He liked to take his time, working open the little clasps with his big fingers, taking the time to look closely at your freshly lacquered toenails, shiny and red. He was gentle, reverent as he held your ankle, kissing your toes, sucking the smaller ones obscenely, making you squirm. He released them with a pop before he kissed down your delicate sloping arch, up to the curve of your ankle before resting it on his shoulder. Taking a long moment to gaze from the soft little pads of your toes, down your legs, so long and smooth, so shapely. He let his eyes move further, down to your pretty pussy.

He mumbled something in Spanish and palmed his cock through his tight jeans. You loved seeing the thick roll of him, knowing it was just for you. As much as he loved to pamper and spoil you, indulging in your maintenance and care, you loved to show him how much you loved and appreciated him. You skimmed your other toes up his leg and over his thick cock.

Javi groaned, flicking his gaze from your shining folds to where your arch rested lightly over his cock. He rutted gently, guiding you to stroke up and down his concealed length for a few blissful moments before pulling his shirt over his head and hurriedly tugging open his jeans, pushing them down while you watched, mesmerized by his golden skin, the width of his shoulders and the narrowness of his hips drew your gaze like an arrow down to where he held his turgid member. Mindlessly, your had drifted to your center, your fingertips softly circling your clit. You watched each other, unashamedly touching yourselves.

With his free hand, Javi circled your ankle, using his leverage to press your knee back and open you up to his hungry eyes, dark and laser focused on where you spread your slick over your clit. He loved how your fingernails matched your toes.

“That’s it. Get it nice and wet for me. Put your fingers in.” You could hear the strain in his voice as you followed his directions, sinking two fingers inside. “More, querida.” he insisted, but didn’t give you a chance to obey. Instead he took his hand from his cock and pushed two of his own fingers inside along yours, making you gasp and jolt with pleasure. The fullness and the vulgarity of his fingers slipping against yours covered in your ample slick and your palm rubbing just so against your clit brought you quickly to orgasm.

With barely enough time to catch your breath, Javi was on top on you, kissing you, licking into your mouth greedily, letting you feel his weight and his need grinding against your thigh. His hands never stayed in one place long, trailing up and down your sides, groping the curves of your body. He tried not to rush, he really did, but you were still breathless as he kneeled between your legs, eagerly notching at your still sensitive entrance but only allowing the thick head to rest just inside. You wiggled your hips for purchase, “Javi. Javi please. Don’t tease me; I need you.” Your hand returned to your soaked seam, you rubbed the flat of your fingers over your swollen folds and spread the warm wetness up over the length of Javi’s cock that he refuses to give you.

He watches, rapt, at hope you use his body to try to get yourself off. He would gladly be your plaything another time, but now he has to move. “That’s it baby. Keep rubbing that little pussy for me. Got you so nice and wet, huh baby?” He continues talking as he inches in slowly, watching how your pretty cunt takes him. You’re still rocking your hips in small movements as he bottoms out, chasing your second release and he finally fills you. “Fuck me.” His eyes are glued to where he is sheathed inside you, so snug and warm. You increase the speed of your fingers against your clit as he increases the tempo of his thrusts, squeezing him as you reach your peak. He rolls his hips firm against you as you moan and writhe, he has to close his eyes and will himself to not come right this instant. Not before he gets to finish the way he wants.

With you sated and boneless, Javi feels like he can finally indulge. You know what he wants. You let him move you, stretching your legs above you, crossing your ankles and squeezing your thighs as he rests your heel on his shoulder. You can feel his cock smearing your slick across the back of your thighs as he kisses your toes, nibbles the soft little delicate digits. This is the part he loves, he’s held off long enough. Once again he takes your ankles in his hands and pushes your knees to your chest. He brings your pretty feet to stroke his cock between them. “Rub your tits.” He directed you with a nod his head. You do as he says and surrender the rest of your body to his will. He thrust slowly, stroking over your feet, holding them firm against his length. He loved how it looked to have you laid out for him, naked, satisfied, slick and swollen, letting him take control. He rubbed his thumb over your toes and directed them to drag over his cock and gently over his balls. It didn’t take long for Javi to bare his teeth and cover your toes in thick, milky spend. He panted, smiling and looking over you, and pressed a kiss to your big toe, licking the cooling cum from his lips.

“Gracias, carino.”

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neocherryb0mb · 10 days

Text

its blackmail baby

hi: i wrote this for the 2024tropeoff challenge. its not edited but it is filthy so theres that.

frankie catfish morales x afab reader

trope: blackmail

warnings: dubcon, infidelity, voyeurism i guess i don't know whats its called in this sitch, cocaine, blackmail, degradation, face fucking, oral, creampie and i think that its but frankie is kinda a dick in this.

RATED 18+

"Give it back."

The Christmas party goes on upstairs, the music loud over the sound of the many guests. You're downstairs, secluded in the guest room with your older sisters boyfriend. All the coats are tossed on the bed.

"Stop being a brat," Frankie growls as he reaches for his hat twirling around your finger as you giggle "You're sister is gonna be pissed. She's waiting for me."

You pout emphatically before tossing his hat back at him. Frankie grabs it out of the air, sliding it back over his chestnut curls.

You can hear the pulsing beat from the music upstairs. Your sisters shrill laugh sounds through it all and you wince.

Living with her was supposed to be a temporary thing until you found another job (as she loves to remind you). Bumming around on her couch wasn't exactly what you pictured. Especially not when she lives with her incredibly sexy boyfriend Frankie Morales.

"Why aren't you joining in on the festivities?"

"Not my thing," you shrug, watching him go through the pile of jackets. You're hiding out down here, avoiding the annoying crowd upstairs. You hate parties and you hate how annoying your sister gets during then.

"Why are you down here? Not having fun trying to impress my sister's colleagues?"

Frankie's job as a helicopter repair and pilot is cool in some circles. But your sister is a high powered attorney whose friends with other high powered attorneys. You've observed the way that Frankie gets insecure around them during other parties.

"That girl from her work, Michelle wants her smokes," Frankie mutters rifling through the cheetah print coat pocket

"And they sent you down here to get them? Aren't you such a good little errand boy."

Frankie fixes with you a dark look before he retrieves the pack of cigarettes from the coat. You move across from him with your hand extended.

"She's always ordering you around," you say taking one of the cigarettes front the pack and placing it behind your ear. "For later."

"Since when do you smoke?"

"There's lots you don't know about me," you tease, winking at him. Frankie gives a brief smirk before reaching into the jacket again before sighing.

"Pass me my jacket. She didn't bring a lighter. Pretty sure I have one in my pocket."

You grab his dark brown jacket from the pile, recognizing it from the frequent times you've seen it slung around his broad frame. In your deepest fantasizes he wears it while he fucks you in his truck.

Something falls to the ground and instinctively you kneel and grab it. It's a small baggie with white powder.

"That's cocaine," you whisper with wide eyes.

Your sister has told you about Frankie's recent sobriety. He's four months clean. His gaze is stuck on the baggie in your hand his face paling.

"I just carry it sometimes," he says, looking anxiously between you and the baggie you still hold. "I swear I haven't used for months."

You look at his eyes, unsure if he's telling you the truth.

"You can't say anything to your sister," he says firmly when you hesitate. "I'm serious."

"She deserves to know."

"I'll do anything," Frankie says in a pleading voice. "Please. You know your sister. She'll never understand."

You stand listening to him before you open the side of the baggie, tugging your shirt down to reveal more of your cleavage. Frankie swallows in anxiety.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm not my sister," you murmur, tapping a line of the white powder over the swell of your breasts.

Frankie eyes your breasts and the line of cocaine there. His fingers twitch anxiously at his side.

"You want this, Frankie? You can have it," you purr. "I want you to take it."

You hand him the baggie, watching as he takes it and shoves it into his back pocket. He stares at your face for a moment frowning.

"Its a bad idea."

"Just a little taste," you whisper. "I won't tell."

Frankie knows he needs to stop but he doesn't. He crosses the few steps between you and grabs your middle. His nose grazes your clavicle and you feel him snort the cocaine off your chest.

"Good?" You ask with a teasing smile.

He sniffs, nose wrinkling as he stands, wiping his hand under his nostrils, clearing the powder that remains.

"That all you want, Frankie?"

Your fingers play along his belt buckle and you don't miss how his cock lengthens under his jeans.

"Your sister---" Frankie mutters as he watches your palm slide down, going to the vee of his legs.

"Doesn't appreciate you," you finish for him cupping him through his jeans. You make your voice breathy. "But I do."

Frankie's voice is reedy and shallow in your ear.

"I can't fuck you," Frankie groans as you squeeze him.

Your hand moves under his waistband, curling around his already throbbing cock. He doesn't stop you.

"Just wanna suck your cock" you whisper. You take his hand, bringing it under your skirt so he can feel you wear no panties. "Just the thought has me so wet."

"They'll find us," Frankie pants looking at the closed door, his fingers sliding along the velvet lips of your pussy and groaning . "Someone could walk in."

"Doors locked."

"I've been gone a while."

"So cum fast."

The cocaine is hitting his bloodstream. He feels himself growing erratic. His cock is throbbing. He rips down his jeans, gripping his hard cock at the base.

"Need your cunt."

Before you can reply he's crowding you against the wall, lifting your dress to your waist and entering you. You're wet, so wet that he doesn't even feel resistance.

"Fuck me hard, I wanna feel you tomorrow."

"You will," Frankie slurs as he pounds you against the wall. His eyes are shut and his face is tilted to the ceiling. He's trying to be quick, to fuck you so hard he can stop the filthy the thoughts he's been having about you since the two of you met.

Frankie moans sawing himself in and out of you. He urges your thigh to go around his back. He's desperate to bury himself in your cunt to the hilt.

You watch his face twisted in pleasure. His hips slapping yours as he fucks you. He doesn't care about you pleasure but you don't care. You just wanted this, wanted to feel him.

"Fuck you feel so much better than your sister," Frankie grunts without thinking, pounding into you now, face buried in the curve of your neck. "Your pussy is so fucking tight."

You smile in victory, feeling him bury himself deeper with you, nudging your cervix.

"I shouldn't be doing this," Frankie shakes his head even as his hips continue to thrust between your thighs, leaving wet noises to fill the air.

You're about to say more when footsteps approach the door. The two of you tense up, but Frankie doesn't pull out of you. You feel too good, he doesn't want to stop. He continues to bury himself between your legs, a hand over your mouth to keep your gasps silent.

"Frankie? Did you get those cigarettes?"

It's your sister.

Frankie knows he can't pretend there's no one in here. When his girlfriend sees the locked door she'll panic something is wrong, or that he's using. He attempts to pull back from you, but you climb him, ankles locking behind his back.

"Uh yep," Frankie calls back, panic in his voice when he feels the velvety clench of your pussy. "I just n--needed a breather."

Your hips are gyrating, urging him to keep going. He stares at you, silently begging you to stop before your pussy begins to milk him. You shake off his hand covering your mouth.

"You wanna cum inside don't you, Frankie" you whisper. "Wanna fill me up with it?"

His eyes cheat to the back of his head.

"Yeah," he groans.

Your sister's voice comes through the door, increasing in panic.

"You sound weird. Do you need me to come in?"

"No no, I'll be fine," Frankie insists, grabbing your ass and holding you down on his cock, trying to stop your squirming.

"Okay." Your sister taps her foot. "Well, have you seen my sister?"

"Nope," Frankie says, his eyes on your face, noting the smirk you wear. You're getting off on this. He pins your wrists to the wall, trying to gain a semblance of control. But you just smile wider, hips rolling.

"Honey, are you having a panic attack?" Your sister calls. "You're breathing weird."

Frankie holds you against the wall, trying to keep his breathing even as he flexes into you before you both hear the doorknob rattle.

"Just gimme a sec, babe."

He pulls off of you, pushing you slightly back when the doorknob continues to rattle. He grips it with his hand, eyes blown wide. His wet cock bobs between you and he shoves it back into his jeans going to the door.

"If you're having a hard time I wanna be there for you," your sister says sweetly. It makes you roll your eyes before dropping to your knees.

Frankie watches this and his hand goes to your face, thumb trailing over your damp lower lip. He pulls it down gently and you look your tongue out for him.

He feels his breath catch when your mouth moves forward to capture his thumb in your mouth. His eyes are transfixed, watching as you suck the digit into your mouth, your eyes never leaving his.

"I'm good babe," Frankie shudders. Your sister starts to go on about anxiety attack remedies on the other side of the door but it's all background noises.

Frankie watches from under lowered lids as you begin to unzip his jeans. He feels his breathing constrict when you take him out of his boxers and his cock hangs there in front of you. It's already hard, brushing against your lower lip.

Your sister is directly on the other side of the door behind you. This is wrong. You sit gazing up at him, tongue still out and mouth waiting.

He shakes his head down at you kneeling between he and the door. You're going to get caught.

But he can't say anything more because your mouth has found the tip and begun to lightly lick.

His head tilts back and he grabs the door for support as all the blood in his body rushes between his legs. Your so fucking good at this. Your mouth and tongue are making him dizzy with desire.

He gathers your hair in a loose first, guiding you and controlling the speed and depth at which you take him. His hips roll, his cock forcing itself deeper over your tongue, down your throat.

His eyes crack open and he holds in a groan when he sees you there on your knees with your eyes looking up at him, pretty mouth stuffed full. You don't look worried at all, you look cock-drunk.

You've always been a tease, flitting around in short skirts and see through blouses. Lingering hugs that make him tug himself off in the shower. And now you're here swallowing his cock.

He wants to enjoy the sensation more but his girlfriend is trying the knob again. Frankie stiffens all over, panic swirling.

"Frankie, I want to see you. Open the door."

He watches as you smirk up at him and he hisses when you pull off of him, your mouth wet with saliva. Your fingers reach behind you and Frankie is horrified to see you unlock the door.

He shuffles forth in a panic, gripping the knob in his hand, pinning you to the door with his legs, one hand still holding your hair tightly. You grin up at him, mouth going to take his cock again, wet and warm. You start to bob your head along his cock, eyes rolling back.

Frankie wants to murder you for this, but you're so goddam good with your mouth. He can't help himself. Your tongue flicks the underside of his cock and he bites down on a moan.

Frankie opens the door while still gripping your hair with one fist, the other holding the door open only a crack. He pokes his head around the frame, looking at your sister with a calm expression.

"Hey babe."

"Baby c'mon back to the party," she coos smiling gently at him. She doesn't see anything past his collar. Frankie is withdrawing to the tip before he slides himself back into your mouth.

"I'm just taking a breather, babe," Frankie says patiently, steadying his breathing. "I'll be up in a sec, i promise. I just needed some alone time."

You can feel his panic turning into adrenaline. The coke in his system and his cock in your mouth are making him feel Superman.

"It's just with them smoking weed up there I needed a break," he continues, his hips bucking slowly as you grip his ass with your hands, nails dimpling the flesh.

Frankie fights to keep his face stoic, but you're deepthroating him now, almost gagging. He's so thick.

"Oh honey of course!" Your sister says with a crumpled brow. "You take as much time as you need."

Victoriously Frankie grins, even tilts his cock deeper as he gazes at his girlfriend.

"You look so pretty tonight," Frankie tells your sister, even as his fingers slide to the back of your head. They tangle there, forcing you to take him to the hilt. Punishment for doing this to him.

"Thank you," she replies with a giggle.

"Gimme a kiss."

You feel your eyes widen as you hear that. It makes you suck him more furiously, hating that he's splitting his attention. You suck hard, satisfied when his thighs tremble.

Your oblivious sister moves forward, pressing a deep kiss to his lips. Frankie feels a surge of arousal go through him as he kisses one sister while he fucks the mouth of another. It's so filthy and he loves it.

"You take as much time as you need, I'll be upstairs."

With that she gives him another peck and goes traipsing up the stairs back to the party. Frankie glares down at you when he hears you giggling lightly.

The door is closed and locked and Frankie forces you to the ground. You lay flat on your back, starfish pose. Frankie is frustrated with you and running high on coke.

He straddles your face and forces your jaw open before shoving his cock back into your mouth.

"You wanted this cock didn't you, you little slut?" He hisses viciously.

He leans forward, his forearms on the carpet above your head. He's not even looking at you, just using your mouth as a hole to get himself off.

His hips rise and fall on your face, fucking into your mouth like it's your cunt. His balls slap against your chin with violent cracks. He hears your moaning in between.

"Fucking shameless," he says, hips and ass bouncing off your face.

All you can smell and taste is Frankie, the smooth of his skin, the heft of his sac and the crazy way he ruts against you. You want him to keep going forever, to use you like you've always imagined.

His knees are on either side of your head, his soft lower belly smacking your forehead with each thrust.

"Cock hungry slut," Frankie continues, unsure if you can even hear him. You're hands are gripping the carpet as his ass and hips rise and fall over and over, fucking you so deep he can feel the tight clench of your throat.

"Don't deserve my cum but you're gonna get it," he growls when he feels that pull below his navel. "You don't spill a fucking drop."

He explodes into your mouth, cum spilling over the sides, down your cheeks. He groans into the carpet as he fucks it into your throat, feeling the vibrations of your moans around his cock. He empties his balls into you before finally pulling himself off.

You remain laying there with a face red and sweaty, hair stuck to parts of your face. Saliva and cum have dribbled down the front of your dress. You look absolutely ruined. Frankie is panting and he looks similarly affected to you, but his eyes are black.

"Roll over."

You do without hesitation, pressing your belly to the carpet. You're curious when he pushes your dress up over your ass.

"Take it off."

Again you obey, left in nothing as you lay there. Your pussy is drooling And you squirm, eager about what's to come.

But he doesn't touch you. You hear buttons pressed and rustling and then hear a tapping. It takes you a moment to realize that he's tapping a line of cocaine down your spine.

You're silent as he does the line off your vertebrae, sniffing and then wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

He takes your dress, wiping off his slick softened cock and tossing it onto your bare body. You gaze up at him over your shoulder to see him holding the phone to face you. It's got a photo of you laying on the ground, ass up, pussy on display, a smile on your face.

"Try to blackmail me about the coke and I send this to everyone in your family. I'm gonna tell them you sent it to me when I turned you down."

Before you can even get dressed Frankie is gone, closing the door behind him and leaving you laying naked on the carpet with a satisfied grin on your face.

#so good

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