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yespolkadotkitty · 3 years

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another one SO THIRSTY for size kink #2

Part I here

Words: 1290 ~ Warnings: P in V sex, unprotected sex, oral sex, FEELINGS

Pairing: Pero x fem! reader

***********

The Spaniard looks at you as if he cannot quite believe the words that passed your lips. “You mean this, gatita?”

You nod, breathlessly.

“After dark,” he murmurs, and he is impossibly close. His scent, polished leather, lemon oil, and the musky smell of clean sweat, surrounds you. “I will come to you, si? By the tree of sorrow.”

The weeping willow. Pero likely didn’t know the English. You nod. “By the tree. When the moon is up.”

He strokes his thumb along your lower lip. The rough caress of his callused skin sets your nerves alight. You poke your tongue out, a little tasting his skin, salty, warm.

He bites back a curse. “Until then.”

And then he’s gone in a few heavy footsteps, just the memory of his touch remaining. You smooth your index finger over your lip, and wonder how he will feel inside you.

******

The moon hangs heavy and fat in the sky, a near perfect circle, when you slip out of the straw bed you share with Cara.

“Oi,” she whispers, her eyes still closed. “Where you going?”

“Chamber pot.”

“No you ain’t. Going for a poke are you?”

You scoff, although you love her. “Don’t tell on me.”

“Go get him,” Cara mutters and turns over, pulling your side of the thick blanket more fully on to her own body.

You kiss her forehead and open the door very carefully. For once, God - or the Devil, considering your destination - is on your side and it doesn’t creak.

Pero is silhouetted in the moonlight; his expression hidden by the draping branches of the willow tree. Its leaves sway gently in the night breeze, framing him, like a hero in a myth.

But you know better than to believe in bedtime stories. The man kissed by moonlight is no more than flesh and blood, and no less than you want.

You reach him and he holds out his hand. His palm is so large as he folds his fingers around your own.

“Bonita,” he whispers.

“What is that?”

“Pretty.”

You feel heat creep up your face. You’ve been called a lot of things; not usually pretty. You tug his hand. “Come on.”

“Impatient?” he teases. “I like this.”

You grin back at him.

Like children you scamper down to the copse, led by the glow of the moon, gazing down upon you like a blessing or a complicit friend.

Without warning, Pero scoops you up and carries you, and you squeal, slapping your hand over your mouth so you won’t be heard.

“Never been carried like a lady,” you whisper into his neck. His thick stubble tickles your lips and it’s wonderful.

“Then it is past time for this, no?”

That he can look past your dry hair and chapped hands and plain figure and see a lady, warms your heart.

He lays you down in the circle of trees and you tense at the feeling of - a pile of blankets?

“Pretty sure most soldiers don’t supply this treatment,” you smile.

“Perhaps I want to be invited back, gatita.”

“By me?”

“Who else?”

He braces himself over you, and he is so big; so wonderfully broad. You lift your hands and smooth them over his wide shoulders. He feels warm and firm under the tunic and your tummy flips; your lower body pulling with desire; every nerve winding up tight.

You expect him to begin, then, but instead, he kisses you.

Just the brush of his lips over your own to begin with, teasing, light, and then as you tug at his hair and pull him closer, he uses his tongue and teeth, and you open for him. He licks into your mouth, and each stroke of his tongue in that parody of the most intimate act makes you wetter.

“You have done this before, no, bonita?” Pero asks against your lips.

You nod.

“Very well,” he says, moving to kiss your neck, and you are relieved beyond words that he wasn’t expecting an untouched maiden. That isn’t the kind of life you live, you are hardly a gentle noblewoman in a high tower.

You clutch at him as he makes his way down your body, uncovering you one slow inch at a time. Fireflies dance in the long grass between the trees. Your toes curl as he latches on to a nipple, and you clench one hand in his soft, worn dark tunic.

“Little kitten,” he murmurs against your damp flesh. “So perfectly formed.”

You thrill to his touch as he continues to undress you slowly by the light of the moon. You touch him your fair share, too, his hair, his shoulders, feeling under his tunic to trace the fierce scars on his back.

When he finally, finally spreads your legs and slides between them, his mouth biting gently at your inner thigh, you could scream from the need for him.

“This is what you want, no?”

“Yes,” you breathe.

His large hands settle on your hips and he begins to feast on you like a man starved.

When you come, you buck into his mouth and you bite your own hand to keep from crying out.

When you float back into your own body, he is braced over you, rubbing the blunt head of his heavy cock through your wetness, and your muscles clench; the want spirals all over again.

“Pero.”

“I’m here, cielo.”

You don’t ask what the new word is. You want him too much for that. You wrap your legs around his broad, firm hips, and dig your feet into his ass. He feels big, and you wonder if you can take him.

He pushes gently into you, letting his forehead drop against yours. The scar over his left eye is bathed in moonlight, curved in sharp relief against his golden skin, and you lift a hand and stroke it gently.

“Beautiful,” you murmur.

“That is my line, is it not?”

“Men can be beautiful.”

He pushes in a little further. The stretch is bittersweet - velvet fire.

“Good?”

“Very good.”

You clench your muscles and he breathes raggedly.

You’ve never had this much power over a man before. You do it again.

“Wretch,” he rasps, but it’s teasing; loving. He moves, then, just a little, and licks of pleasure flit up your nerve endings.

“Again.”

And he complies, over and over, and you clutch him to you as he makes love to you under the watchful kiss of moonlight.

After, you sprawl across him. His torso is littered with scars and so firm and broad that you can use him as a bed.

“Sleep, gatita,” he whispers into your hair. And so you do.

*******

The Spaniard stays.

He stays to make love to you by moonlight - sometimes in the copse, sometimes in a secluded corner of the barracks storeroom, when all others are out on a hunt. One memorable time in the kitchen before dawn, when he drizzled honey over you and oh, so slowly, licked it off.

He stays and ends up semi-adopting the kittens from the barn cat. They trail around after him. His fellow soldier, William, the Irishman, mocks him mercilessly. Pero can often be seen carrying the runt of the litter around in a little pocket you fashion for him, attached to his leathers.

Anyone who questions this receives a death glare in return.

He stays to train new soldiers.

But most of all, he stays because he has won your heart, and because you hold his in your hands.

********

Pedro Pals, assemble! @starlightmornings @skvatnavle @knittingqueen13 @djarinsbeskar @nelba @agirllovespancakes @absurdthirst @usernamesarebitches @casualpalacebagelrascal @greeneyedblondie44 @leonieb @f0rever15elf @autumnleaves1991-blog @littlemissthistle @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @pascalsky @buttercup--bee @astroboots @mourningbirds1 @songsformonkeys @tardisfangurl @the-ginger-hedge-witch @disgruntledspacedad @pedro4ever @roxypeanut @mrsparknuts @mrschiltoncat @pedro-pastel @lunarthoughts @officerbrowneyes @missredherring @myoxisbroken @read-and-rec @dornish-queen @abuttoncalledsmalls @wantingpedropascal @miuola @wheresarizona @ourmotherofyearning @danniburgh @jaime1110 @jaime1110 @insomniamamma @the-feckless-wonder @sarahjkl82-blog @alienprincesspoop @thirstworldproblemss @buckstaposition @lackofhonor @graveyardnails @keeper0fthestars @lilangeldevil006 @kindablackenedsuperhero @heatherbel @thegreenkid @mstgsmy @jasterslegacy @thestrawberry-thief @engineeredfiction @ladylothlorien @poenariuniverse @idreamofboobear @yoditorian @mouthymandalorian

and people who interacted with pt 1: @wildchild1964 @djarinsidebitch @quacksity @its-forevermore @itstheanxietyforme @sirarthurconanchristie @savingreading @someplace-darker @chasingdreamer @javierian @ellenmunn @theamuz @meshlamando androgynousclambonklawyer ew-erin dragcn-queen bonnieonhisside @chook007 @oh-kittykat @goldenholland mudhorn-djarin19 hyacinthsatdawn fulltimefangirl111 killerduckzilla jennajackflash querido-pascal stardust-danvers @codenamewife @kesskirata raindancejodi captainreyloswan iampearlteacup @bonktime

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caitlincat-95 · 2 years

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Finally got him done! ❤️❤️❤️

Avaliable as a sticker or shirt on my redbubble!

@lannister-slings-and-arrows @mando-amando @bumblebee-moreno @cosmicbug379 @zeldasayer @self-ship-supporter @arcadianempress @ithinkwehitametaphor @libellule2001 @takemepedropascal @hiscyarika @keeperOfthestars @yespolkadotkitty @abuttoncalledsmalls @mandolover86 @dornish-queen @javierian @songsformonkeys @babybelou @thepoisonofgod @ortizshinkaroff @whisky-soul @javier-djarin @gamingaquarius @insomniamamma @morrison-mercury @icanbeyourjedi @pikapuff316 @grogusmum @marvelousmermaid

Let me know if you wanna be added to the tags OR if you want removed. I know some people's interest change. 🙂

#pedro pascal #pocket pedro #finally making new pictures!

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lyrafox · 3 years

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@lovelyasfcuk @dornish-queen @themandadlorianbod @pascalsky @zaniasky @whisky-soul @pajamasecrets @a7estrellas @abuttoncalledsmalls @babybelou @freak-nasty-thick-dick-mando @honeychicanawrites @queenofbelair @scout-134 @thewaythisis @thisisthe-wayson @ithinkwehitametaphor

Sorry if I’ve missed anyone out. I love you all! Merry Christmas! 🥰💕

#pedro pascal #the mandalorian #din djarin #the child #grogu #daddy din

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abuttoncalledsmalls · 3 years

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Did I buy these specifically from Publix for my Baby Yoda. Damn straight I did.

#baby yoda #blue macarons #the mandalorian #abuttoncalledsmalls #the mandalorian season 2

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benedictsvestcollection · 4 years

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abuttoncalledsmalls replied to your post “So like…. *whispers* Today’s my birthday. ”

HAPPY BIRTHDAYYYYYYY!

@abuttoncalledsmalls

Thank you my love!

#abuttoncalledsmalls #about me #personal shit

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songsformonkeys · 4 years

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Ghost of You (dave york x reader)

summary: When Dave comes home from the hospital, he doesn’t remember who you are.

word count: ~1700

rating: This is pretty safe.

warnings: Angst and amnesia. So if that’s not your thing then you won’t like this story.

notes: I’d recommend reading my other Dave story Pancakes before reading this one. Otherwise some things might make less sense. Unbeta’d so any mistakes are my own.

Ghost of You

When you bring Dave home from the hospital, he still doesn't remember who you are. He's been at the hospital for months while his physical injuries healed, and now that they say he's more or less restored, they can no longer justify keeping him there. They need the room for other patients.

Except, contrary to what the doctors say, Dave is not restored. The most important part of Dave, the part that makes him Dave, is still broken.

”It's a miracle that he even survived,” the doctors tell you. An even greater miracle that he has actually recovered as much as he has. There was no way to save his left eye, and he still walks with a limp, but other than that and a long and jagged scar on the back of his neck, he's able to walk and move around. Considering the list of injuries that Dave'd had when he was taken to the ICU, you suppose that this kind of physical recovery is somewhat of a miracle.

No one knows exactly what happened to him before he was fished out of the water by the coastguards on that stormy day. And the only person who could tell you is Dave. And Dave doesn't remember. Dave doesn't even recognize his own face in the mirror anymore.

You have demanded answers from the doctors, but they have none to give.

”It's impossible to tell at this point,” they've told you, over and over again, ”Your husband has suffered significant trauma to his brain. Right now, there's no telling how much of his memory he'll be able to recover.”

You continue to ask them, every time you bring Dave over for his doctor's appointments, but the answer is always the same. No one knows.

”It's a miracle,” they keep telling you, but sometimes... sometimes it feels more like a curse. To have your husband back, except it's not actually him. It's a stranger in his body and every time you see him, you're reminded of all the parts that are missing. It's like living with a ghost.

When you'd married, you had promised to be by his side in sickness and in health, but sometimes it feels like it's killing you to stay. You've thought about arranging for him to stay somewhere else and hate yourself for even considering it. You had always pictured that your relationship would be sturdy enough to handle anything, and it feels like you're betraying Dave by not being strong enough to handle this. Sometimes you try and justify your thoughts by thinking that maybe Dave would be happier somewhere else? These living arrangements have got to be tough for him too.

Then you remember the scared look on Dave's face when the doctors had told him that he had to leave, the way his remaining eye had immediately turned to look at you and the way his shoulders had relaxed when you asked if you could take him home, and you realize that you will never be able to turn him away. Dave trusted you, even if he had no memory of who you were. Just two matching gold rings signaling that you belonged.

You catch him looking at those rings sometimes, both the one on his own finger and the one on yours, as if they hold the answers to all the world’s questions. You have no idea what he’s thinking. Dave was always a difficult man to read, but now it is downright impossible.

You catch yourself staring at your ring too sometimes. Is it still a marriage when one of the parts aren’t there anymore? Are you a widow? It feels wrong to even think that word when Dave is sitting on the living room couch downstairs, even if you’re not really sure it’s still Dave.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dave is polite and quiet to live with. He watches the news a lot, trying to make sense of the world. He has a small notebook where he writes things down. You have no idea what he writes in it, but you know he brings it to his therapist at the hospital. Dave can remember facts and numbers even if he can't remember the faces of his daughters. You catch him standing in Alice's room one day, in front of a map you had helped her make, quizzing himself on the names of the different states. He looks embarrassed when he notices you, but you assure him that it's fine.

The girls are staying with your parents. You go to see them as often as you can. It's not the escape you had hoped it would be. You have told Molly and Alice that their dad is sick, which is why you need to take care of him and they need to stay with grandma and grandpa. They understand this but they still tell you how much they miss him, and every time you come over they ask when they can come home. You feel like you're being torn in two. When Alice hands you a card with a big wonky heart on it that says, ”Please get better, Daddy! We miss you!” you barely manage to hold it together until you get downstairs and find your dad in the garage. Then you cry in his arms like you are a little girl again.

Sometimes you think you can see a spark of the old Dave. Like when they show one of his favorite movies on TV and you can tell how much he loves it, or when he accidentally grabs your cup of morning coffee and the coffee with milk makes him scrunch up his face like it's the foulest thing he's ever tasted. It’s the exact same face he's made so many times over the years you've been together, when mugs have gotten mixed up on previous mornings.

Other times, he's a complete stranger. Like the way he suddenly really appreciates purple, despite always having claimed that it's an overly flashy color, or the way you sometimes hear him sing in the shower, something he wouldn't have been caught dead doing in the past. You and the girls have tried to get him to sing so many times before and he’s refused. Now he’s singing and it feels like a knife to the heart because it’s like the hope of getting your Dave back drifts further away with each note that carries through the bathroom door.

You sleep alone in the big bed and Dave sleeps in the guestroom. Every night, you hug his pillow close and long desperately for the nights when you could hold him in your arms. Your sheets have stopped smelling like him and when you help change Dave's sheets in the guestroom you sometimes find yourself in the laundry room afterwards, with your nose buried deep in his sheets and tears streaming down your cheeks. The fabric muffles the sound of your ragged breathing.

You try and keep it all together when Dave is close by. He doesn't deserve the burden of your tears. It's not his fault and you don't want him to feel like you blame him for this situation. So you save your crying for when he's not around. When he's at the hospital, when you're in the shower, or during the night when you can hide your face in the pillow. You don't want him to see your pain.

Then, one evening, he comes home from a run and catches you having a breakdown in the kitchen. You're in your pajamas, sitting on the floor behind the kitchen counter, with your face buried in your arms and a picture of all four members of your family clutched tightly in your hand. You're crying so hard that you're shaking.

It's the first time he touches you since he came back. Sitting down next to you, he wraps you up in a careful hug and you instantly melt against him. Part of you know that you should pull yourself together, but you can't. It hurts too much.

”Dave,” you sob, dropping the picture of your smiling family, and gripping the fabric on his shirt in your fists.

Dave doesn't say anything. He knows that it's not really him your hugging and that speaking would shatter the fragile illusion that he’s another version of himself. Instead, he just rubs slow circles on your back while you cry and stain his shoulder with your tears.

You have no idea how long you sit there. Your tears have long since run dry and it's fully dark outside when you eventually pull back. You feel weak as a baby bird and your eyes are red and puffy. Dave looks tired too.

”Come,” he says and helps you stand. He guides you upstairs and into the bedroom where he tucks you into bed. It’s on his old side of the bed and you try not to read too much into it.

The light from the streetlamp outside illuminates his face just enough in the dark room. He’s still so incredibly beautiful.

”Stay,” you beg him, voice weak and hopeful. He reaches for your hand but stops just before your fingers can touch.

”I can't,” he whispers and you hear the way his voice breaks at the words.

He leaves the room and takes another piece of your shattered heart with him. Dave would have stayed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, you can't bring yourself to even get out of bed. You hear Dave move around downstairs but you can't go down and talk to him. Not when it's not him. You pick up your phone to check the time. 10 am. Not terribly late for a Sunday, even if it's late for you. You think you can probably get away with hiding up here for a little longer before you have to go downstairs and face him.

But then you smell it. At first you think you're imagining it but no, it's definitely there. It's the smell of apologies and ”I love you”s. It's the smell of pancakes.

Taglist: @yespolkadotkitty @agirllovespasta @beccaplaying @pascalitoyork @ohpedromypedro @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @knittingqueen13 @winters-buck @abuttoncalledsmalls @keeper0fthestars @ahopelessromanticwritersworld (I took the liberty of adding some people I thought might want to read this)

#dave york #dave york x reader #dave york/reader #equalizer 2 fanfiction #ghost of you #my fanfiction

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frannyzooey · 3 years

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Movie Trivia Night

Summary: Frankie takes you to trivia night.

Rating: Explicit

Tags: @profkenobi @corellians-only @paintballkid711 @zeldasayer @rentskenobi @keeper0fthestars @absurdthirst @din-djarin-owns-my-wap @sin-djarin @dindjarinvibe @kiwi-the-first @duker42 @lilkermit14 @storiesofthefandomlovers @the-purity-pen @phoenixhalliwell @jura-moon @cryptkeepersoul @clydesducktape @pedroepascal @abuttoncalledsmalls @giselatropicana @letmybabysleep @yespolkadotkitty @seawhisperer @cheesybadgers @fairytalesintheend @mitchi-c @f0rever15elf @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @j2thepowerof3 @thewayofthemandalorian @the-wishmonger @goldafterglow @spideymanreads @roxypeanut @vesperstalksclones @auty-ren @awhiskeywithawinchester @seratoninforyouseratoninforme @a-seeker-of-imagination @the-feckless-wonder @thirstworldproblemss @mstgsmy @mrsparknuts @ladytrashbird @mostly-megan

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to both @j2thepowerof3 and @thirstworldproblemss - they both had a hand in the inspiration for this chapter. Thank you!

*flashbacks in italics

Okay; so maybe you were a little too confident.

Surely Movie Trivia night at the local bar will be a piece of cake - the two of you watch so many movies, you should be able to place pretty high in the standings, or at least do pretty well for yourselves, but the truth quickly becomes apparent around the 2nd round: the two of you don’t actually remember any of these movies.

Well, not the plot anyway.

Taking a gulp of your beer, you peek over the top of your glass at Frankie and you can tell he has come to the same conclusion; his eyes holding yours for a moment with a rueful grin, a small shrug of his shoulders.

“What the hell are you guys doing these movies?”, Santi jokes, reaching for the pitcher in the middle of the table. “Didn’t you guys just watch this one last night?”

Frankie, stretched out on the floor of the living room and you, riding his face as his fingers dig painfully into your hips, pressing you tight to his mouth and you cry out for him, begging him not to stop exactly what he is doing. Leaning forward to brace yourself on the carpet to open yourself up more for him, grinding your clit into his nose and you reach down underneath you to grab a handful of his thick curls, your stomach taut with tension just before you –

“Yea, but I think we fell asleep or something”, Frankie answers him, taking a casual swallow of his own beer and looking at you as you blink out of your daze.

“Yea”, you agree, slowly nodding at his answer, “I think it was pretty boring, from what I can remember about it.”

Round after round this continues – you know you’ve seen these movies, but when you dig for the details in your mind, all you can remember is Frankie.

In the Matrix, does Neo take the blue pill or the red pill?

The two of you tangled on the couch, frantically pulling at each other’s clothing while his hand works its way beneath the waistband of your shorts. Sinking two fingers into you, he coats them with your slick before drawing them out and pushing them into your mouth. You suck on them with relish as he groans; your own fingers fumbling with the button on his jeans --

Who is Keyser Soze in the film The Usual Suspects?

You, kneeling on the floor between his legs; his hand gently holding your head down on his lap, this tip of his cock touching the back of your throat and you breathe heavily through your nose, the strong exhales gusting through his pubic hair and he flexes his hips up into your wet mouth, feeling it flood with saliva as you keep him inside as deep as you can --

American Hustle is a fictionalized retelling of what famous sting operation?

“Oh god, Frankie”, you moan as his heavy weight pushes you deep into the cushions of the couch, your legs up over his shoulders as he leans forward, bracing himself on the armrest above your head and you can’t breathe; the weight of him squeezing the air out of your lungs; the full, overwhelming feeling of his cock so deep inside and he presses a quick kiss to your calve while murmuring his praise, “You’re doing so good for me, baby, just a little more” –

The guys keep teasing, Frankie deflecting each one with a quip or a witty remark or a harsh retort and you wonder if he remembers the same things you do; his easy going face never betraying his thoughts.

Needing to get some air, you slide off the stool at the next question: “What does police chief Martin Brody use to kill the shark at the end of Jaws?” (the night Frankie bent you over the ottoman, tugging on your hair as he fucked you from behind) and when you slide off your stool to use the restroom, you brace yourself on his thigh and your fingertips can feel a bulge in his jeans. He plays it off, gently scooting back on his own chair while asking you if you need help and you lock eyes.

He remembers every single one of these nights.

“Do you think they noticed, baby?”, you ask, buckling yourself in as Frankie starts the truck.

Smoothly pulling out of the parking space, he tells you he doesn’t think so. “They probably just think we can’t stay up that late or something.”

You smile to yourself, looking out the window. If they only knew how late Frankie kept you up.

Reaching your hand out for him, he takes it in his own and brings it to his mouth, softly kissing the knuckles of it while keeping an eye on the road.

Enjoying the company of each other for a moment, you break the silence when you suddenly laugh. “Oh god, baby. Remember when they asked that question about Psycho?”

He huffs a laugh, a wistful look on his face as he turns into your neighborhood. “Yea, that was a good night. What about that one about Jupiter Ascending?”

A flutter in your belly at the mention of that movie, your laugh isn’t as strong this time as you think about that night: the movie being so incredibly boring, Frankie had turned to you almost immediately and by the time the movie was done, he had made you come three times. Your body was still sore the next morning with how thoroughly he had worked you over.

“Do you remember what we did that night, baby?”, he asks quietly, his voice slowly dragging you out of the thought as he pulls into the driveway and kills the engine.

Looking at him, your eyes are already hooded with lust and you feel the cab of the truck fill with tension as each of you think about that night. His face mirrors yours, his own eyes dark as they watch you and he shifts slightly in his seat, gently pulling on the crotch of his jeans as he adjusts himself. You watch the movement, admiring the thickness of his fingers, the heft of him outlined under the fabric and you feel like you are burning alive from the inside out when you unbuckle and launch yourself over the bench seat.

Frantically unbuckling himself, he reaches out for you and immediately drags you onto his lap, shoving your skirt up around your hips while you pull him in for a searing kiss.

“Take me out, baby”, he begs against your lips and you are already working on his belt, the leather of it creaking in your hand as you rip it open, your hands slightly shaking with urgency when you move onto the button of his jeans, his zipper. His breath catches against your mouth when you shove your hand under the denim and he slides his hips down in the seat to give you more room as you pull him out; the steering wheel of the truck digging into your lower back.

Pulling back, you let his cock rest heavy against his stomach as you reach between your legs, sliding your panties to the side to press two fingers into yourself and he lets out a low groan at the sight of it. His broad hands resting on your thighs, his grip tightens on your skin as you gather slick on your fingers; your mouth open at the pleasure, the relief you feel at the touch and you when you get momentarily lost in the sensation he pleads please, baby, touch me.

Pulling your fingers out of your pussy, you lean forward and brace yourself on the seat back while you reach down and circle his length with your soaked hand. The sound he lets out; the deep almost sob as his head tips back into the headrest, fills the cab of the truck and you look at the long, lean line of his throat, the top two buttons of his flannel open to expose the tanned, smooth skin underneath.

“Oh god, Frankie, remember when they said “Arrival”?”, you pant, and he says it at the same time as you, groans the word out as you stroke him because yes; yes he does remember that night, the image of you is seared into his memory.

He is firm and hot in your grip and you need him, have been thinking about him all night and while he is such a pretty sight undone under your touch, you shift up onto your knees and open your legs wider to get ready to slide him into you.

“Fuck; yes”, he gasps, hurriedly reaching out to roughly push the damp crotch of your underwear to the side as his other hand slides under the back of it to grip your ass, pulling you close. You want to take your time, the first slide in always being the most delicious stretch, but you can’t wait and you feel the blunt, thick tip of him against your entrance for a second before you sink down until your hips are flush with his.

You whine loudly at the fullness and scoot your knees forward, the seat of the truck a rough drag against your legs as you press closer to him. Your hips already rolling over his, he pushes up into you and for a moment, there is only this: frantic movements, harsh panting, thick kisses when you lean down to open his mouth with yours. You know it has to be fast; know you shouldn’t be fucking in the goddamn driveway but he seems just as needy as you right now, his hands clutching your hips to move you over him as he tells you how he thought about this all night, couldn’t think about anything but your pussy, your mouth, the way you always take him so good.

“Frankie”, you moan, your hand braced on the ceiling of the truck. “What about when they said “Inception”, remember what we did then?”

“Yes; YES”, he groans, as you roll your hips fast over his.

“Tell me, baby”, your eyes squeezed shut, your fist a tight grip on his t-shirt.

“You – fuck, baby, you feel so good”, he grits out, shoving his own hips up until you cry out. “That’s when you let me come in your mouth and some”, a groan when you squeeze him tight, “of it got on your chest and you let me lick it off.”

Letting go of his shirt, you palm his chin and tip his head back so you can lean down and press your open mouth against his neck. Your tongue licking his skin, you feel the vibration of his moan against your lips, taste the salt of his skin as you drag your mouth over the hollow of his throat. You’ve been thinking about this particular part of his body all night in that bar, watching his throat bob with a swallow every time he took a drink of beer, every time he laughed at the guys and you nip at it with your teeth, soothing the marks you leave behind with a wet glide of your tongue.

Grinding your hips faster against his, you are so close to coming when he reaches between your bodies to find your clit with his thumb.

“Come on, baby”, he murmurs and you bite down on his neck as he rubs you. “I’m gonna come but I want to feel you do it first.”

Oh god, Frankie, just; just like – and you can’t finish your sentence because you come around him; your body locking up as your hips jerk over his. He feels a flood of slick around his cock, feels how tight you squeeze him and he clutches the soft fabric of your dress in his fists as he fucks up into you, once, twice before holding you down on his cock as he spills into you.

Your body is limp on top of him as you catch your breath, his own soft pants warm against your shoulder when he kisses the sweat damp skin there. Pulling back to look at him, the two of you immediately start laughing at how ridiculous the whole situation is and you pull him in for a kiss. A soft, lingering one while he stays inside of you, his hands letting go of your dress to roam up under it, sliding up over your lower back and stroking the soft skin there.

“Do you think anyone saw us?”, you ask, peering over towards the neighbors’ house.

He leans his head against the back of the bench seat, smiling at the question. “Well, I think the windows are too fogged to see anything, but that alone is probably enough to let them know what is happening in here.” He winks.

You laugh lightly, reaching to twirl a curl of his hair around your finger. The two of you look at each other for a moment, not wanting to leave the warm cabin of the truck, not wanting to leave the embrace of each other. Your eyes roam over his broad chest, the width of his shoulders, the pale, dark mark you left on his neck. You admire how sated he looks right now, his warm brown eyes so soft as they gaze back up at you and you shift your hips on his lap in a reminder that he is still inside you.

“Hey”, you ask, giving your hips another little roll, “wanna go inside and watch a movie?”

He groans a laugh, his little belly shaking with it and his cheeks stretch with a smile, the deep crinkles around his eyes growing with it.

“I think you’re gonna kill me”, he replies, closing his eyes at the way your nails are dragging over his scalp as you push through his hair. “But yes – yes I do.”

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales/you #frankie morales/reader #pedro pascal #triple frontier

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mandoalorian · 3 years

Text

Sick Day with Javi Gutierrez

DAY ELEVEN: Sick Day with Javi Gutierrez [requested by @abuttoncalledsmalls]

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added!)

Permanent: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth

December Writing Challenge: @mandos-blaster @silent-and-resigned @valentinasubmarina

December Writing Challenge Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Word count: 1.3k

Rating: PG

Warnings: descriptions of sickness

Author's note: I'm so so sorry that this is two days late. I was super stressed and so my writing has had a little bit of delay due to personal reasons. Trying to get back on top of it now though. I hope you enjoy.

"Do you want some?" Javi asked, his mouth full, thrusting the swab of pink cotton candy in your face. You laughed, gently pushing his hand away.

"No thank you," you giggled, leaning your head on his shoulder. He leaned his head on yours, his brown curls tickling your forehead. "Javi, maybe don't eat all of that. You still want to go on the rollercoaster, don't you?" You mentioned with concern.

"I'll be okay," Javi reassured, pulling another clump of cotton candy and putting in his mouth. He moaned in delight as it melted on his tongue. "So sweet."

"You might get sick." you told him, interlocking your fingers with his as you strolled over to the arcade machines.

"I promise baby, I'll be okay," he chuckled, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek. "Let's try to win some goodies!" he announced, padding over to one of the slot machines and beginning to place quarters in. He watched them slide and drop into the machine, pushing more quarters out. After spending a few minutes working at the machine, and approximately five dollars later, he won you a small plastic keychain.

"Hey Javi, look. It kinda looks like Paddington Bear." you smiled as Javi took the keychain from you and inspected it.

"Oh yeah, it does." he confirmed, smiling himself and running his thumb over the ridges of the plastic.

"Do you want to keep it?" you asked, knowing how much your boyfriend adored the animated bear.

"No, that's okay," Javi replied. "I won it for you."

You went to take back the keychain but Javi seemingly didn't want to give it back. He was adorable, measuring it up against his own keys to see how it would look.

"I think you should keep it." You giggled, "I already have plenty of keychains and besides, I know how much you love that movie." And Javi blushed at your sentiment. He shoved it in his pocket and wrapped his arm around you.

"Love you honey," he murmured sweetly.

"I love you too baby." you replied, nuzzling your head into his lazily buttoned floral shirt.

"Can we go to the roller coaster now? It looks like the queue has died down." Javi asked. You nodded and took his hand and headed over.

It was the biggest rollercoaster in the state, or so it was advertised like that. It was in fact enormous, with loop-da-loops and deep dips. It had high points, low points, points where it hung you upside down and points where it jolted you around. You both reached the queue just as the ride was finishing, Javi looking in awe as it fulfilled the final circuit. People clambered off it, dazed and colour drained out of their faces.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" you asked hesitantly.

Javi didn't reply, instead bolting past the ticket-man and sitting comfortably in the front seat. You paid for the ride with your tokens and slid down next to Javi. The man who ran the roller coaster, waited for everyone to be seated before clicking a button. Metal bars came down and secured you both in place. The adrenaline was racing through your body, especially when your little cart began to lift from the ground and your feet were left dangling in the air. Javi was grinning ecstatically, crinkles appearing in the corner of his brown eyes. You took his hand and gave it a squeeze. "Don't let go of me, okay?" you smiled.

"Never." Javi promised, bringing your hand up to his lips and brushing a sweet kiss over your knuckles. The music in the theme park was blaring as the rollercoaster lift you higher and higher until eventually you were at the peak.

"Hey Javi look," you squealed. "You can see for miles up here!"

"There's the zoo!" Javi pointed. You narrowed your eyes, trying to focus on the general direction Javi was pointing in— and then, WHOOOOOSH. Yours and Javi’s cart dropped faster than the speed of light, the wind blowing through your hair and the feeling of your heart dropping into your stomach. You screamed and Javi yelled, squeezing your eyes tight shut as you felt your body fall.

You were feeling fine, much to your surprise. But it wasn't long before Javi began to feel nauseated. The strong wind pushed his head against the rubber black seat and he even hit his head against the metal bar a few times due to the sudden, jerky movements, giving him a headache. At first, he was afraid, but then he learned to love the feeling. But now, it wasn't fun anymore and Javi felt very, very sick.

"Uhm," Javier nuzzled his head into your chest and grabbed your hand even harder than before. He whispered your name, struggling to find words as his head spun.

"Javi, baby? Are you okay?" you asked before screaming as the rollercoaster took another dip.

Javi covered his eyes with his free hand. "I don't feel too good." he admitted. You wrapped your arm around his shoulder and smoothed his curls out of his face.

"Oh sweetie, don't worry. I'm sure it'll be over so-" you choked out the last word and yelled as the rollercoaster held you upside down. The blood rushed to Javi's head and he let out a groan. His grip on your hand didn't falter once, despite his feeling of sickness. "How are you coping?" you shouted feeling concerned. Javi didn't reply with words, instead whining and squeezing his eyes tight shut wishing this would all be over soon.

After a minute or so, you were back on the right side of gravity and the rollercoaster was circling its final route. "Almost done I think." you reassured your boyfriend.

As the words left your lips, Javi threw up. Pink, cotton candy vomit. You gasped, your eyes flicking between Javi and his pretty floral shirt which was now not so pretty and covered in sick. "Javi." you whispered apologetically. He looked at you, his brown puppy dog eyes glazed with embarrassment. "Its okay honey, are you okay?" Javi shook his head and you scrunched up your nose from the smell.

The man stopped the ride when he saw Javi's accident, and you helped Javi climb out of the cart. You sheltered him from the crowds of people and guided him into an empty corner. "Take off your shirt." You told him.

"I- but-" Javi mumbled.

"But what?" You asked, unable to tear your gaze away from the mess he had made.

"My tummy…" he frowned. "People will see my-"

"Javi my love," you said in a soothing voice. You tucked his curls behind his ear and placed a hand on his cheek. "It's okay. It's just, do you really want to walk around the theme park covered in vomit? It's a hot summer day and people won't care if you take your shirt off. I just want you to be comfortable." you explained and Javi nodded understandingly. He began to unbutton his shirt and peel it off before discarding it in the trash. "How are you feeling now?" you asked.

"Better now that the cotton candy is out of my system," Javi chuckled. "Are you um… ashamed of me?" he questioned nervously.

"Oh of course not Javi," you replied, pressing a gentle kiss into his jaw. "I love you. It's okay, accidents happen sometimes. Come on, let's go home."

#javi gutierrez x reader #javi gutierrez #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #the unbearable weight of massive talent #tuwomt

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