#you ask and JHFTM delivers
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Congrats on 300 Claire!! 🎉🎉 I spun that delightfully smutty wheel of yours in celebration and landed on Javier Peña + MO😏😏 I can't wait to see what that gorgeous brain of yours comes up with!!
Aw, thank you so much for your patience as I work my way through these many months later. 💖💖💖💖 I love how you always have something kind and positive to say about my fics, and how you always provide a dash of sweetness and light around here. I smile every time I see your name pop up on my dash or my notifications!! 😍
Here’s “making out” with Javier Peña below the cut!
Word count: 930
Rating/Warnings: Mature 18+ only (no minors), kissing, curse words, smoking, references to sex, and references to prostitution
Outline: Javier Peña x “You” (female reader, co-DEA Agent, no racial description, no physical description, no name, no use of “Y/N”)
You opened the passenger side door of the sedan and plopped into the front seat. Javier had been here for three hours on stakeout, and you were coming to relieve him for a bit.
Javier’s fourth or fifth cigarette of the evening curled a lazy string of smoke out the driver’s side window as he held the binoculars, training them on the third floor of a known ‘house of ill repute’ across the street from his parking spot. A low-level sicario named García was known to frequent the establishment, and it was an open secret that Javier did the same on occasion.
You propped your foot on the passenger side of the dashboard and took a swig from his can of soda in the cupholder. Flat. Gross.
You sighed as the warm Colombian night air shifted through the open windows and cooled you ever-so-slightly.
“Where’s García now?”
Javier shrugged. “Still in the bedroom with the girl. He might be there another couple of hours.” He put the binoculars down on his lap and took a drag of his cigarette. “He usually pays for the full night, but it’s a crapshoot on whether he stays the whole time or leaves early.”
“Got it,” you yawned.
“Late night, cariño? Am I keeping you up past your bedtime?” Javier winked and you felt your panties get a little damp, but not for any reason to do with the sweltering summer night. You had worked with Javier Peña long enough to know that his flirtations weren’t personal, although your pussy didn’t seem to know that.
“Yeah, I should have been tucked in bed hours ago, like a true woman of leisure.” You yawned again and stretched your hands behind your head.
Javier chuckled and shook his head, then stubbed his cigarette out in the car’s overflowing ashtray. “You telling me this stakeout isn’t luxurious? We have AM/FM radio, a half a pack of cigarettes, and the U. S. Government’s full permission to sit on our asses for a few hours.”
“Well, I’m here to relieve you, so you can go do something else with your ass for a little bit, Peña.”
He laughed and handed you the binoculars. Just then you caught a flash of movement through Javier’s window. García had exited the front door of the brothel and was crossing the street - heading straight toward your vehicle.
You dropped the binoculars on the floor and lunged toward Javier, your brain supplying the only cover you could think of: pretend to be a prostitute and make out with a customer.
“Kiss me right now,” you breathed as Javier’s face twisted into surprise. You grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him to your mouth, keeping one eye on García as he approached.
Your attention was split: half on keeping tabs on García and half on the way that Javier’s lips worked against yours. He was warm and soft, and more tender than you ever would have anticipated. You belatedly realized that Javier had lifted one hand to cup your face, and the other was wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you closer as his tongue bumped softly against the seam of your mouth.
You couldn’t help the way your eyes closed for a brief moment as you opened your mouth to let Javier explore. You hummed a sigh of satisfaction and then snapped your eyes open again, scanning over Javier’s shoulder for any sign of the suspect.
García walked to a car sitting on the same side of the street as Javier’s vehicle, parked just ahead with one unoccupied car between them. He opened the driver’s side door and slipped inside. You broke off from the kiss and turned to look out the windshield. García pressed the brakes and started the car, but didn’t pull away from the curb.
You suddenly realized that you still had your hands fisted in Javier’s shirt, and you let go with a gasp. “Sorry! Oh my god, I thought he was going to see us. So I had to pretend to be a prostitute.”
Javier blinked at you and chuckled. “Well if you wanted my affections, cariño, you could have just asked. You didn’t have to pretend to be a prostitute.”
“No, I mean, I thought he was going to- and you know, I had to do something-” you stumbled over your words.
Javier winked again, “Don’t worry, I understand. Your secret’s safe with me. But if you ever want to do that again, just say the word.”
García released the brakes and started to pull away from the curb. Javier started his ignition and prepared to follow him. Suddenly Javier’s radio crackled to life.
“Peña, you there?”
He grabbed the handset. “Peña. Go ahead.”
“Discontinue surveillance of García. Repeat, discontinue surveillance of the suspect. Direct orders from upstairs. Over.”
Javier let out an impressive string of curse words in both English and Spanish. He depressed the button and gave a halfhearted, “Copy that.”
He slapped the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. “Fuck.”
You put a hand on his arm, giving him a tentative squeeze. “Hey, we both have some free time now…”
Javier turned and looked at you with interest.
You smiled, “Wanna make out some more? I know a place that’s pretty luxurious.”
Javier smirked and leaned closer to you. “Is that so?”
You smiled and wrapped your arm around his neck. “Yeah, it’s got AM/FM radio and everything.”
Javier laughed low as his lips met yours again. You sighed and let the night breeze caress you as you melted into his kisses.
—
Javier Peña character masterlist
Main masterlist
“Everything bagel” tag list: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme @eri16 @mandocrasis @pilothusband @bastillealmighty @eri16 @jitterbugs927 @babiiface95 @toomanystoriessolittletime @yespolkadotkitty @fisforfulcrum @prettylilhalforc @mswarriorbabe80 @littlemisspascal @wildemaven @coreychick @castleamc @coreychick @astoryisaloveaffair
#jhftm 300 followers celebration#javier peña fanfiction#javier pena x you#javier pena x female reader#you ask and jhftm delivers
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Friday thots!!🥵🥵🥵
Ummmmmmm Jenny... I'm not okay here.... okay... so....
Word count: 420
Rating: Mature/18+ only
Outline: Dave York x "You" (gender-neutral reader; no physical description; no racial description)
Warnings: Dave being a tease; Reader is handcuffed to the headboard face up; Dave uses whipped cream and his mouth on Reader; Dave sticks his fingers into Reader's mouth; one mention of a blow job; one mention of orgasm denial; Dave calls reader a "filthy little thing"
You know Dave likes to tease you, likes to tie you up and taunt you, but this is the first time he's ever brought food into the bedroom.
"Honey, what are you doing?" You lift your head up to look at Dave, standing by the bed with a small bowl, something white and fluffy, the detachable beater from your mixer sitting in it. "Is that whipped cream?"
Dave smiles at you, saying nothing. Just gives you a sneaky, sideways glance as he dips the beater back down into the fluff and slowly, carefully dabs a bit onto each of your nipples. It's cold, and your nipples instantly stiffen.
Dave drags two of his huge fingers through the cream and then sets the bowl down on the dresser. He lifts his fingers to your mouth with an order.
"Suck."
You open immediately, unable to tear your eyes away from Dave's intense, deep brown ones. You let him slide his fingers into your mouth, drooling at the taste of the whipped cream, the cool sweetness of it melting on your tongue as his broad fingers drift and drag. He lets you swallow the cream before he rubs his fingers further back, testing your willingness to take it, to take whatever he wants to give you. Testing how far he can go until you gag.
Something about the way he presses down on your tongue as he rubs his fingers inside your mouth makes you feel so depraved. You moan and your eyes roll back in your head.
"No, no. Eyes on me." Dave stops his fingers until you look at him again. "You close your eyes like that again and I won't let you come tonight."
You hum around his fingers, a desperate, pleading whine. You'll be good.
Dave doesn't take his fingers out of your mouth as he dips his head to suck the whipped cream off your nipple. He makes you watch as he sticks his tongue out to swipe it clean before taking the tight little bud of you between his front teeth. He gives it an experimental pull, and you suck hard on his fingers in response.
"You liked that?" Dave grins at you wickedly. "I thought you might, you filthy little thing."
He does the same to your second nipple, and then reaches for his belt and starts to open it, a smug smile twisting his plush lips.
“I’ve got something else here you can suck on. If you’re good and finish me off, I’ll let you have more cream.”
#dave york smut#dave york x reader#dave york x you#total chaos#i have no idea what I just wrote LOL#you ask and JHFTM delivers
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The Wedding Night
Word count: 4900+
Rating: explicit, 18+ only
Outline: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x “You” (cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)
Warnings: Jack running his filthy mouth; mentions of virginity and defloration; mentions of lack of experience; gorgeous lingerie; one light spanking; fingering/F receiving; oral sex/F receiving; oral sex/M receiving; unprotected P/V sex in the context of marriage; breeding kink; mentions of anal sex; mentions of blowjobs/gagging; mentions of sex toys/dildos; alcohol; marijuana
@quica-quica-quica - My love, this is what my brain did when we talked about me writing something for you that was "Xtra filthy Whiskey with a little fluff" ... You can drag me off to horny jail now, LOL. My work here is done! :D
A very special Thank You to @babypedrito for beta-reading and absolving me of all of my horny-jail sins.
---
"Are you nervous, honey?"
"No, I don't think so... well, maybe a little. Will it hurt?"
"Oh darlin' I hope not. I'll be real gentle with you."
---
The wedding had been elegant and fun and a little flashy, just like Jack.
The sheer number of guests had been stressful, but you had been blissed out all day, letting Jack spin you around the dance floor as many times as he could at the reception. You didn't want to start your wedding night exhausted, so you and Jack had opted for a mid-morning ceremony followed by a lunch reception. Statesman had splashed out for all of the liquor and an open bar, but you had been so busy greeting your guests and smiling for pictures that you hadn't had time to sip a full glass of champagne, let alone eat anything. The minute you and Jack arrived at your honeymoon suite, he had placed an order for room service and given you orders to eat, shower, and take a nap.
God, you loved that man. He was sassy and stubborn, but he did take excellent care of you.
When you woke, the last of the evening sun was streaming through your balcony doors. You stretched and yawned. The bed was empty, so you wandered out into the sitting room. Poor Jack was half-undressed and passed out on the sofa in front of a muted football game, the TV remote rising and falling on his chest as he snored softly. You shook his arm gently, "Baby?"
His dark eyes popped open and he smiled at you. "Hey, darlin'. Did you get some rest?"
"Yeah, Jack, I did. Thank you."
"Well I can't have you all tuckered out before we even get started. Wouldn't be gentlemanly of me." He winked at you.
You smiled at him and fluttered your eyelashes. "And are we going to get started soon? I'll need to change into my wedding night ensemble."
He sat up and grabbed your arm, pulling you down onto his lap as you squealed.
"Do you have to change? You look just fine as you are, honey."
You laughed. You had napped in an old undershirt of Jack's and nothing else except your wedding and engagement rings. You cooed softly at him as you rubbed your hand against his chest. "But Jack, baby, I bought it just for tonight. We only get to do this once, and I wanted to make it special for you."
He scowled as if he wanted to say no. You decided to pout your lower lip out just a little and sweeten your voice. "Please, baby? Please let me wear my special lingerie for you. It's my first request as your wife."
He pretended that he was giving in resentfully. "Alright, darlin'. If it'll make you happy."
You kissed him on the tip of his nose. "Oh, Jack. I think we'll both be very happy." You stood up off his lap and he swatted your bottom playfully.
"Now, now. None of that." You shook one finger at him playfully. "Just give me a few minutes and you can go lie down in the bedroom while I get ready. I'll meet you in there."
You bounced into the bedroom to grab what you needed, then locked yourself in the bathroom to freshen up. You heard Jack groan as he stretched and got up from the couch, soft footsteps moving to the bedroom. You caught your own eyes in the mirror and grinned. This was going to be so good.
It didn't take you long to get dressed, because your wedding night "ensemble" consisted of just three pieces. You had purchased an ivory-white babydoll nightgown with a big satin bow centered between the lace cups. The gown's skirt was billowy and entirely sheer, and the satin-ribbon hem hit you just at the top of your thighs. The back featured a slit from the band all the way down, forming a flyaway opening. There was a matching ivory lace thong with an open crotch, and you had found coordinating ivory marabou slippers with a kitten heel to tie things off. You were dressed in two minutes. All that was left was a quick touch-up of perfume and mascara, and a few deep breaths.
You opened the door a crack and called out to him. "You ready, baby? No peeking!"
"I'm not peeking."
You poked your head out to see Jack sitting against the pillows on the king-sized bed, hands dutifully placed over both eyes. You slunk out the door and stood at the foot of the bed, tucking and tugging the last tiny adjustments to your outfit. You put your fists on your hips and smiled at him. "Okay, you can look now."
Jack pulled his hands away and you saw his eyes take a half-second to refocus on you. When they did, his jaw dropped. He gave you one long look up and down, and you giggled and spun once to give him the full picture.
"Baby doll," he bit his lip and looked hungry. "You look good enough to eat. You did all that for me?"
You laughed. "All what, Jack? There's hardly any material here."
"Don't I know it." He whistled, long and low. "You want me to leave it all on or rip it off of you?"
You gasped and giggled. "You know I don't know what I'm doing. I guess I'll have to let you decide."
“Oh, baby girl... ” he shook his head and got up off the bed. “I don’t know if I can be in charge of such an important decision.”
“Well then, let’s just play it by ear and we can decide later.” You cocked an eyebrow at him as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “Because I am eager to get started.”
He smirked at you and tilted his head. “Is that so?”
“Yes, it’s one of the benefits of being Mrs. Jack Daniels. Now that you’ve made me an honest woman, I finally get to see what all the fuss is about.” You smiled shyly. “Unless, you don’t want to?”
“Now hold on a minute darlin’. You know I’ve been looking forward to tonight.” He kissed you. “I just want to do it right, that’s all. I wanna do right by my wife her first time.”
You bit your lip and looked up at him through your eyelashes. “I know you do, baby. I trust you.”
"Are you nervous, honey?"
"No, I don't think so... well, maybe a little. Will it hurt?"
"Oh darlin' I hope not. I'll be real gentle with you."
You smiled and leaned in for a kiss. Jack held you tenderly, taking his time and working your mouth slowly open before plunging in with an eager tongue. The kiss was nothing new to you. You and Jack had kissed like this hundreds of times… but now you were husband and wife, and it was your wedding night.
You let yourself melt into Jack’s embrace, and when the kissing got so good that you moaned, he smiled against your mouth. He moved his lips to plant kisses on your cheek and jaw and neck, murmuring to you in his low, gravelly drawl. “Are you ready?”
You nodded, and then released a breathy, “Yes, Jack. Yes, I’m so ready. Can we please go to bed?”
He pulled back. “Well, I need to know you’re really ready. We only get to do this once.”
You considered for a moment, biting your lip. “I do, I want to. But I’m a little nervous. Can I have some champagne? Just to relax.”
He nodded. “Okay, just one glass though.”
“Thank you, baby. I just want to relax a little bit, not get drunk or anything. I want to remember tonight for the rest of my life.”
He kissed your forehead. “Me, too darlin’.”
You sat on the bed as Jack went out to the living room to retrieve one of the “his and hers” champagne bottles that Champ had sent over, and two champagne flutes. He popped the bottle open and poured two glasses, then sat next to you on the bed.
“Cheers,” you said as you clinked your glass against his. “To us.”
“To us.” Jack sipped his champagne and wrapped his other arm around you, rubbing lazy circles into your back with his thumb. You loved his thick fingers and strong hands. You had seen what they could do with a dangerous whip and lasso, and you trusted him utterly with every part of your body.
When your glasses were empty, you felt a little looser, the edges of your nerves just barely blurred. You smiled at him and handed him your glass to set down on the bedside table. “I’m ready.”
He tucked his head down toward you, slotting his mouth over yours for a deep kiss. “Okay, we’ll get started. Lie down on the bed for me. Scoot back a little.” Jack stood up and faced you.
You lay back and scooted up so that your feet were flat on the bed. The hem of your nightgown slid up and pooled across your hips. Jack kneeled down on the plush carpet and stroked your leg with one strong hand. He lifted one foot and kissed the inside of your ankle softly. You shivered, and he repeated the action with your other ankle.
“Can I take these off?” He tapped the top of one slipper.
You lifted your head to look down at him. “Oh, yeah, sorry. I guess you should take them off.”
“Ain’t nothing to be sorry about, honey. You look amazing.” He slipped them off gently and tossed them theatrically over his shoulders, making you laugh.
“What should I do with my hands?” You wanted to know if you should be doing something other than leaving them palm-side down on the bedspread next to your hips. It felt stiff and awkward.
“Just relax,” said Jack. “You’re doin’ fine.”
You nodded, laying your head back down as he resumed stroking your shin.
“Can I touch you?” He slid his fingers a little higher, grazing the inside of your knee.
“Yes, please.”
He ran his fingers up to the inside of your thigh, sweeping your skin with a soft touch. Each graze of his fingers set your skin on fire, and you felt your anticipation build. You were getting wet; you could feel it, and you knew that it would help with what was coming next.
Jack paused his touch at the outer band of your thong, just at your pelvic bone. “Do you want to leave this on or take it off?
“I don’t know. Um, it’s crotchless, does that make a difference?”
“Not right now, but if it gets uncomfortable we can take it off.”
“Okay, just leave it on then... and thank you.”
“For what?” Jack stroked your lace-covered mound slowly. Little sparks of electricity flew everywhere, buzzing outward from wherever his fingers touched.
“For taking such good care of me. Especially on our wedding night.”
“Oh darlin’, I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he drawled. “I’ll take care of you for the rest of my life. I love you.”
“Oh Jack,” you sighed. “I love you, too.”
“I’m going to touch you between your legs now. Just breathe and relax, okay?”
“Okay.”
You felt Jack’s fingers stroke down over your clit and pet you softly there through the lace before moving down. He hooked a strap of the open crotch with his finger and pulled it to the side. The pad of one thick finger paused at your outer labia and you bit the inside of your mouth nervously.
“You ready?” Jack sounded calm.
“Yes, please, baby. Please touch me.”
He answered by spreading your outer lips open and rubbing a line gently up and down over the inner labia, spreading moisture as he went. You were practically dripping for him. He pressed one finger against your opening and applied gentle pressure, letting your slick do the work of guiding his fingertip inside. You felt his thick finger enter slowly, and when it was finally all the way in you exhaled.
“Is that okay, darlin’?”
“Yes,” you breathed out. “Yes, you feel so good.”
“Okay, I’m going to put another one in. You tell me if it’s too much for you, honey.”
“Yes, Jack.”
He pulled his finger out to the tip and you felt its neighbor join it. The pair pressed into you again, slower than ever. You felt so good, all of your nerve endings sparkling, the wetness growing and growing as Jack worked you open. You could do this forever.
“How are you doing, honey?”
Your voice came out half-whisper, half-gasp. “Ohhhh, Jackie. I feel so good.”
“You sure feel good down here, darlin’. Makes me want to taste you.”
“You can do that?”
“Yes, ma’am. If you give me the go-ahead, I’ll eat you out like a Sunday dinner.”
You laughed, and more tension left your body. “Okay. Yes, please eat me… Wait, can I call it that?”
“If you let me do it, you can call it whatever you want.” He chuckled. “You ready?”
“Oh yes.” You flung your arms up over your head and stretched. “I’m ready, baby.”
Jack left both fingers inserted and used his free hand to open the straps of your thong wider. You felt cool air hit your clitoris and you shuddered. Then Jack’s warm lips met your intimate center and you moaned.
“Oh, Jackie. You feel so good. I can’t believe we’ve never done this before.”
He pulled back, sounding almost plaintive. “You said you wanted to wait until the wedding night, darlin’. I was just followin’ orders.”
“Well I’m glad we’re doing it now.”
“Me, too.” He kissed your clitoris again and you gasped. The contact sent sparks racing up your spine. Your legs shook and threatened to close around his head.
“Keep ‘em open for me, darlin’. I want to see this pretty pussy as I taste it.”
You shifted your feet a little further apart. “Is this good?”
“Oh, it’s good, honey. You should see yourself, all spread out for me on our weddin’ night. If I’d known you were going to look like this, I would’ve married you the day we met.”
You lifted your head to look down at him again. “Are you going to keep talking, or are you gonna eat me?”
He didn’t answer, but plunged his tongue out to flick your clit . Your hips bucked and he pulled his fingers out gently. He reached up and tugged at the front of your thong. “Can I take this off? It’ll be easier access.”
“Yeah, go ahead.”
He hooked the side straps away from your hips and you lifted your butt to help him slide it off. He threw it to the side and wrapped his strong grip around your thighs as he lowered his mouth to you again.
His kisses and licks were urgent, an open-mouthed assault on your tender and swollen pussy as you writhed and squeaked. His iron grip on your upper legs kept you anchored to him, even as you shifted across the bedspread. You had no sense of time passing; it could have been seconds or minutes later when you felt your orgasm build until you thought you were going to snap.
“Jack! Oh fuck... Jack, I’m gonna come. I’m coming for you now!” Your moans and shouts didn’t phase him, he just kept licking and slurping at you as your pussy throbbed and clenched around his tongue. He slowed his pace just a little as you climaxed, and kept holding you tight as he kissed you more gently, bringing you down with him as you finally relaxed.
You came back to yourself after a few moments, your breathing slowing into something more normal. Jack lifted his head and relaxed his grip on you. “How was that, honey?”
“Oh, Jesus, Jack,” you gasped. “For chrissakes. I think I saw stars.”
He chuckled and stood up. His face was wet from nose to chin, mustache slick, hair mussed and eyes twinkling. He was absolutely wicked. You couldn’t believe he was finally yours.
You sat up and hugged him around his waist, resting one ear against his tummy. “Ohhh, thank you, Jack. That was absolutely wonderful.”
He petted your hair as you squeezed him. “You’re welcome, baby girl. Do you feel good?”
“Yes, Jack. Oh, I feel amazing.”
“Do you want to try now?”
You pulled away and looked up at him, eager to try anything he wanted. “Try what?”
Jack took a half step back and shed his suit pants, then his undershirt and briefs and socks. You watched as he undressed, taking in the sight of his strong arms and hands. Your eyes widened at the sight of his cock, growing bigger by the second. When he was naked he gave himself a few lazy pumps and then cupped your chin with his free hand. He looked deep into your eyes with that calm, authoritative manner of his.
“You just kiss it around the tip a little and then open your mouth, darlin’. I’ll show you what to do after that.”
You grinned and nodded up at him. “Okay.”
You looked back down at him, at his fist wrapped around the base of his hard, dark cock. Every pump of his heart was sending more blood to his erection. The head of his penis was nearly maroon, and you wanted more than anything to give him the release he had given you so freely.
You leaned forward hesitantly and placed a few soft kisses to the sides of the head, next to the slit of him that was growing damp. Tiny pecks turned into softer smooches, and Jack waited patiently while you got your fill of the experience. The sensation of his velvety skin on your lips was enticing, and you found yourself moaning and drawing out the kisses for longer and longer.
Finally Jack tapped your shoulder, indicating you to stop. He brought his large hand up to cup your chin gently. “You ready, honey? You can open up if you’re ready to try.”
You nodded and opened your mouth obediently, as wide as you could, tongue hanging out. Jack laughed gently.
“Relax, darlin’. You don’t have to unhinge your jaw. Just open up like you’re going to take a taste of something delicious, ‘cause you are.”
You relaxed, letting your mouth close a bit. Jack placed the tip of his penis just inside your lips and took his hand off your jaw. He let it rest on your tongue and then he slowly slid it from side to side as he shifted just a bit deeper.
“You can suck on it if you want, real gentle.” Jack’s voice was encouraging, his drawl low and husky.
You closed your lips gently around the head and gave one experimental suck, like a lollipop. Jack pumped his fist up and down gently, “That’s it, darlin’, real slow and soft.”
You switched between soft sucks of the head and open-mouthed licks, feeling awfully pleased at the huffy breaths and moans that were coming out of Jacks’ mouth above you.
“God, honeybee. Is this your first time giving a man a blowjob?”
“Mmm-hmm,” you hummed.
“Well, darlin’ you’re doing just fine.” Jack brought his free hand to cup the back of your head. “Are you ready to go deeper?”
You flicked your eyes up to him, giving him a wide, innocent stare as you pulled off. “Deeper? How deep does it go?”
“Oh, all the way, darlin’. I think you can fit all of me into that sinful little mouth of yours.”
You looked from his dark eyes to his penis and back again. “Are you sure? I won’t choke on it?”
“Oh, no. I’ll be gentle, honey. We’ll go real slow and get you used to it.”
You nodded and opened your mouth again. Jack placed the head of his penis back on your tongue and you closed your lips gently around it. He removed his fist and then placed both hands on the sides of your head.
“Go slow, honey.”
You looked back up at him to see that he was gazing at you tenderly, enchanted by the sight of his cock disappearing into your soft mouth. He grinned softly at you. “Just go slow.”
You closed your eyes so that you could concentrate on it. He held your head gently between his big hands as you relaxed your jaw and throat, trying to take him as deep as you could. When the head hit the back of your tongue, Jack held it there and moaned soft praises to you.
“Oh baby girl, you are just perfect. Look how I fit in that sweet little mouth of yours.”
You glowed at his praises and pressed just a bit deeper. When the head hit the back of your throat, Jack made a soft hiss and pulled himself out.
You looked at him with wide eyes. “Did I do okay, baby?”
“Oh honey, yes. You did great, but if we keep doing that I’m not gonna last long, and we won’t get to the main event.”
You giggled. “Okay, where do you want me baby?”
“Why don’t you lie back on those big pillows and just relax, darlin’.”
You scooted up to the top of the bed and lay flat. “Like this?”
“Yes, darlin’. Just like that, pretty as a picture.” Jack knelt on the bed and crawled up to you. He reminded you of some jungle cat stalking its prey. He was going to devour you.
“Do I need to take my nightgown off?”
“Only if you want to, but it won’t get in my way.”
You nodded. “Then I’ll leave it on, I like it.”
“That’s fine with me, honey. Are you ready for me?”
You nodded vigorously. “Yes, Jack. I’ve been waiting so long. Please.”
He lay next to you and stroked you from hip to breast, cupping you through the lace before running his hand back down. He lifted the hem of your nightgown and pressed two thick fingers to your entrance. “You’re still so wet for me, but I have lube if you need it.”
You shook your head, “No, I think I’ll be okay.”
He assented. “Alright, but if you need it, you just say so and I’ll stop.”
“Okay, baby.” You cupped his jaw and kissed him deeply. “I love you, my husband.”
His face broke into a soft smile. “And I love my wife. Can’t believe I’m so lucky.”
“To find a virgin for your wedding night? Something special to deflower, that no one else has ever touched?”
“No, just to find you.” He kissed your forehead. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Even if you weren’t a virgin I’d still love you, still be the luckiest man alive to have you on my wedding night.”
Tears sprang to your eyes at his tender words, threatening to overspill. “Oh, Jack. I love you so much.”
He continued caressing you with his fingers. “I love you, honey. You think you’re ready for me now?”
“Yes, Jack, please please please. Right now.”
“Alright.” He shifted up to hover over you. “Just open your legs and relax your hips. I’ll be extra gentle.”
You did as he asked, releasing one slow breath out through an o-shaped mouth. He pressed the tip of his penis to your opening, then looked at you one last time with eyebrows raised for permission. You nodded and said, “Go ahead.”
He pressed in slowly, stretching you open. He felt so big and hard and glorious as he slid between your walls. The wetness in your core provided so much glide that he got all the way inside before you even realized it. He bottomed out and stopped, holding himself up on his arms to look into your eyes. You could feel your own slick mixed with Jack’s saliva drip down between your cheeks.
“Are you alright, darlin?”
You smiled, “Oh, I’m more than alright, Jack. My husband just took my virginity on our wedding night.”
He leaned down and kissed you. “I’m going to start moving in and out now, but if you need me to stop, just say so.”
You nodded. Jack started easing his hips in and out, and you could feel every steel inch of him sliding in and out. You felt another orgasm starting to build. “Oh, Jackie, I think I’m going to come for you again. Can you touch me down there?”
He shifted back to his knees and reached one broad thumb to swipe your clit. “God, honey, you’re so wet for me.”
You barely heard him as the room started to get fuzzy. You felt the dam threaten to burst, and you managed to gasp out, “I’m co-” before you bucked your hips again and came hard, clenching around his cock as he slowly pumped in and out.
“Oh fuck, baby girl. You should see yourself. That greedy little pussy is trying to eat me alive. I’m not gonna last much longer. Can I go faster?”
You moaned, “Oh my god, yes. Go for it.”
Jack took his finger off your clit and pumped just a little faster. “Oh fuck, baby girl. Where do you want me to come?”
“Inside, Jack. We’re man and wife now. You can fill me up and I’ll give you gorgeous babies.”
“Oh honey, I just want to fuck you and watch you get so round. You’re going to be pregnant before you know it.”
“Yes, Jack! Yes!”
“You gonna have my babies? You want all of me?” His words were exhaled in rough gasps. “I’m gonna fuck a baby into you. You won’t be able to get rid of me, you gorgeous girl. Gonna carry a part of me around with you for the rest of your days.”
You felt one more impossible rush of slick dripping from your pussy at his words, and you simply moaned, incapable of speech.
Jack suddenly fell onto you, face buried in your neck, and you felt him thrust hard and then stop. Something hot was releasing inside your pussy, and you whimpered and stroked the back of his head.
“Oh, Jack. I think I love you.”
He groaned into your shoulder, the words muffled. “I love you, too, darlin’.”
---
“Jesus Christ, Jack. That was amazing.” You took a sip of your champagne and passed the joint over to his side of the bed. “That was better than that time in Cancún!”
Jack laughed and choked on his toke, then passed it back to you. “God, I loved Cancún.” He took a long drink of champagne. “Was that the time I fucked you so hard the neighbors called the cops?”
You giggled. “No, that was that shitty little hostel in Amsterdam while we were on assignment, remember?” You took another puff and thought while you held it in, then you blew out a long string of smoke. “No, wait, it was Belgium.”
“That was fun.” Jack grinned to himself. “Remember Italy?”
“Which time? The yacht off the coast, or that blow job outside the Colosseum that one time at 3 a.m.?” You passed the weed back to him.
“Oh, Christ, honeybee. I forgot about the Colosseum.” He took a long toke and another thoughtful sip from his glass. “But that yacht was fucking amazing. I was balls-deep in you under that blue Mediterranean sky. God, you were so sexy in that little swimsuit you were wearing. Made me wanna marry you right there.”
“Aw, you old softie. You’re such a sweetheart.”
He handed the roach back to you to finish. “Remember L.A.? You looked so good gagging on my cock in that bathroom, mascara runnin’ all down your face. I almost felt bad it was a convenience store. I should have taken you back to the hotel first.”
“No way! That was hot. I had that plug in my ass all day, and you did me just fine when we got back. I couldn’t sit right for three days.” You threw your head back and laughed, nearly upsetting the bottle of champagne and the Altoids tin full of joints sitting on your lap.
Jack reached a hand out to steady the bottle. You fished a fresh joint out of the tin and closed the lid. A thought occurred to you as you lit it.
You exhaled and turned to him with wide eyes. “Holy shit, Jack. I should’ve bought my vibrating panties. Maybe we can run out tomorrow and buy a new pair.”
“Nah, they never get you off right. You said they move around too much.” He took the joint from you and drained the last of his champagne. “How about a new vibrator instead?”
“Okay, but tomorrow night it’s your turn to be the virgin.”
He exhaled a huge lungful of smoke and passed the joint back to you, waving his hand to indicate he was done. “Alright, but you have to promise not to be gentle. Can we do college professor and failing student?”
“Mmmm…” you thought for a moment. “Yes, but only if I get to spank you.”
“You got it, honey.”
You leaned over and kissed him. “God, I love my husband.”
He smiled at you and took your empty glass. “I love you, darlin’.”
---
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#kingsman fanfiction#kingsman fanfic#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal x you#agent whiskey x you#agent whiskey x reader#agent jack whiskey daniels#you ask and JHFTM delivers
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So, since you murdered me yesterday, its only fair that I try to get a little something back from you. I want you to give me something good - I need a good ol' bath -preferably with either Frankie "Oral King" Morales or Marcus "Pants Python" Pike. Your choice, but know that my life (or afterlife) depends on it. Meaning - the sooner the better, love.
You know what? It's a Friday night, I'm feeling generous (and still a little bad about murdering you) - you get BOTH!!!
Bedtime Stories by JHFTM
Rating: Explicit, 18+ ONLY
Warnings: oral sex/F receiving; fingering/F receiving; mentions of anal sex; mentions of food; shameless fantasizing about Marcus "Trouser Snake" Pike's surprisingly filthy mouth
Frankie “She Comes First” Morales…
You come home from work on a Friday night just absolutely shattered. Frankie knows what you need, baby. He’s going to draw you the hottest bath you can stand, fill it with your favorite bath salts, and make you sink into it - no arguments, sweetheart. While you’re soaking up the warmth, he’s going to bring you a big glass of Southern sweet tea (homemade with sugar, none of that fast food shit), and sit on the edge of the tub to give you the world’s best foot massage.
What that? You didn’t know that the King of Cunnilingus also gives excellent foot massages? Well, now you do! And he’s not going to stop until you are putty in his hands. While he’s doing that, he’s going to ask you about your day. That low, calm voice of his, the little circles he’s rubbing into your skin, and the heat of the water almost put you to sleep. But Frankie’s not done yet, far from it...
When the water gets cold, he’s going to drain the tub and refill it extra-hot. Then he’s going to scrub your back, getting aaallll the spots you can’t reach. When you’re a limp, happy noodle, he’s going to rinse you off, wrap you in a big fluffy towel, and then lay you out on the bed. You’re honestly so happy and relaxed that you could fall asleep right there, laid out naked and air-drying gently under the ceiling fan. Just as you’re about to drift off with a smile on your face, you feel Frankie’s big hand on your ankle, shifting you into position so that one leg is bent with your foot flat on the bed. Then he does the same with your other ankle, and you realize exactly what he’s about to do…
“Ohhh… Frankie baby.” You’re so relaxed you can’t even open your eyes. “You don’t have to do that, love. I’m so relaxed already.”
“But I want to, sweet thing. I love doing this for you.” His voice is low and even, and he’s kneeling between your legs, rubbing circles on the inside of your knee with his broad thumb. You’re so blissed out that you almost can’t respond. The moment hangs there, and he’s starting to think you’ve fallen asleep. But it’s just that your brain is slowly processing what he wants to do, and how good he is at it, and how many times he’s made you come so hard before just from eating you. And you start to get aroused, despite your drowsiness. So you try to speak, and when you do, your breath hitches: “Okay.”
And that’s all the assurance he needs. Frankie knows you love this, he just always needs to hear it; he makes sure that you give your consent. And when you do he’s off like a shot, leaning down immediately because he’s already got both you and himself into position. All he needed was a yes.
You feel him take the first lick, separating your folds, and he loves the way you taste. You’re still warm and damp and clean and relaxed, and Frankie likes to start you off relaxed, because he knows it won’t be long. He knows how good he is at this, how to push your buttons and in what order and when to flex his fingers and when to hold them still. He knows when to lick with a broad, flat tongue and when to flick your nub with the hard tip of it, and he works every angle you have until you’re arching your back and moaning his name. Your hands can’t find a resting spot and they’re moving on their own almost; tangling in his hair and then palming flat on your abdomen and then gripping the bedspread and then squeezing your own breasts. Frankie loves it when you start to thrash around, making little squeals like you’re about to sneeze. He knows you’re close.
He feels your pelvic muscles start to tense and he does that thing with his tongue one last time and you are suddenly off in space, arching your back so hard you’re practically bent in half and squeezing his head between your thighs. He works his fingers slowly, massaging that sweet spot of sensitive tissue behind your pubic mound with one broad finger and laying a long, sucking kiss to your clit. A few tears leak out of your eyes from the release, and you can’t remember your own name for a moment. There’s only you, and Frankie, and that mouth of his, now laying soft little kisses to your mound and your inner thighs as he pulls his fingers out gently.
“Was that good?”
---
Marcus “Anaconda” Pike…
You knew that Marcus had something special planned for your anniversary. There was no way he would tell you what it was, exactly. But from the little secret smiles and hurried phone calls in the past few weeks, you knew he was pleased with his clandestine planning.
The big weekend came, and you started off on your lovely trip to the beach. A nice relaxing weekend to get away from it all, to disconnect your phones and reconnect with each other. The drive was easy, the sightseeing was fun, and the hotel he had picked was beautiful. When you checked in, Marcus made you wait at the bar. And when you got off the elevator and opened the door to the suite, you saw why.
He didn’t want you to overhear that he had rented the Presidential Suite. An enormous extravagance (you would have been happy with a regular room), but for Marcus it was perfect. He wanted to show you a good time, and let you live it up in luxury for 48 hours. When you saw the bathroom you gasped: not only was it bigger than your whole bedroom back at your D.C. apartment, but it had the largest bathtub you had ever seen.
When you finally closed your jaw and turned to look at Marcus, he had an enormous grin on his face. He knew that you were tired of the tiny shower and shallow tub in your apartment, and he had made sure to ask for the suite with the best soaking tub. You wanted to live in it.
Marcus turned the faucet on and tested the water, then told you that you could spend the entire evening in the tub if you wanted, no need to get dressed up and go out to a fancy dinner. You squealed and kissed him and made him promise to get in with you. Then you had the best idea ever.
“Ice cream in the tub? Whatever my girl wants,” Marcus had grinned. He ordered up room service and then rubbed your shoulders as you sat on the edge with your feet in the warm bubbles. When the food arrived, Marcus set it up within easy reach on a little table tray. He had ordered french fries and your favorite ice cream: chocolate chip cookie dough.
“God, Marcus. I could die happy right now.” You sat shoulder-deep in the warm water and teased his toes with yours, swirling your feet in the water to try to reach him. Marcus wiped his mouth off with a napkin and tossed it on the tray.
“I hope you don’t die. I was kind of looking forward to a nice weekend.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you. “I had plans for later.”
You crooked your finger at him and he shifted to come over to your side of the tub. “What plans did you have in mind, Mr. Pike?”
“Oh, you know…” Marcus moved you away from the wall of the tub gently and then spread his legs open, sitting you down in the V and wrapping his arms around your torso.
He continued. “I thought we could start with a nice bath, maybe take this into the bedroom, see where the weekend goes.” He nuzzled your neck and your nipples popped to attention.
“Mm-hmm. Go on.”
“Well, I thought maybe after this I could rail you into the mattress. Make you come so hard and scream so loud that someone calls security.”
You giggled. “And then what?”
“Well,” Marcus kissed your neck and scraped his teeth gently over your ticklish spot, palming both of your breasts in his huge hands. “Once you’re nice and relaxed from two or three orgasms, I was going to break out the industrial lube and see if you wanted me to go in through the back door. Give you one of those nights you won’t ever forget.”
You gasped theatrically and he nuzzled your ear with his nose. “Because the last time we did that, sweet girl, you ended up being such a filthy little cum slut that I nearly had to tie you down. You were wiggling so hard I thought you were going to pop right off my cock.”
You moaned, somewhere between a hum and a wail. Marcus nipped your earlobe and continued his dirty monologue. “So if you want to get fucked into next week, baby girl, you’re going to have to be good for me this time. Don’t make me work so hard that it turns into a struggle fuck.”
Your eyes closed and you bit your lip as Marcus continued to run his hands up your sides, down your breasts, and finally, finally down to your sweet spot. He used two of his thick fingers to spread your outer lips open and then massaged your clit slowly. Your breathing stuttered as your mind started to ooze away into bliss.
Marcus’s next words were spoken in his normal, sweet, even tone, and it contrasted gorgeously with the depraved words. “Are we good, baby girl? Are you going to be a good little fuckdoll for me? Or do I have to tie you down?”
~The End~
#the battle continues between quica-quica-quica and JHFTM#Only one smut peddler can prevail!#I still feel bad about murdering you#but i hope this makes up for it#I'm gonna show up tomorrow and wreck your box#your Ask box#Not the other box#You ask and JHFTM delivers
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CONGRATS!!!!!!!
I spun the wheel and got Dave York/Size Kink🤤
Oh my goodness, this went a little bit filthier than I intended (why does that ALWAYS happen with DAVE?)
Here’s the Dave York/size kink with petite female reader headcanon under the cut!
Dave likes seeing how small you look when you wear his shirts around the house.
His white button-down dress shirts and just panties? He’s a goner.
He loves to come up behind you in the kitchen while you’re chopping vegetables and just wrap his hands around your waist.
He also stands behind you and rests his chin on the top of your head.
He loves how small you feel, but how well you fit in his arms. When he’s got you wrapped up completely it’s the one time he’s calm.
And then of course the bedroom has its own fun… like when you’re sitting on the edge of the bed looking up at Dave from under your lashes. And his cock looks absolutely huge in your petite little hands.
It wrecks him inside when he can really see how much bigger he is than you are.
That’s when he can hardly control himself. He feels so big and protective of you.
He loves holding you up against the wall with your legs wrapped around his waist.
When he’s got you wedged against the wall just right and cups his hands under your thighs, it’s like he’s carrying you with him.
You once joked that you were his “pocket-sized girlfriend” and now that phrase is stuck in his head. He wouldn’t ever say it out loud, but when he sees you sitting there with your fist wrapped around him as you get ready to open wide, that’s all he can think about.
He loves seeing the size difference and hearing from you that you love it, too. The night that you were wrapped in his arms and you said you felt so safe and protected? That’s what he thinks about when he’s feeling down, and it makes him feel better
---
Dave York character masterlist
Main Masterlist
#JHFTM 300 followers celebration#you ask and jhftm delivers#dave york x you#dave york x reader#dave york x female reader#dave york x size kink#dave york headcanon
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The Confession
@fandom-blackhole asked:
So, I was wondering, could I get 8. “Look at me. I love you.” and/or 30. “You are more than you think of yourself. You’re everything to me.” from Dialogue prompts to make a reader swoon, 47. “Why is it so hard for you to believe me?” from Prompt List #2, and/or 60. “You have no idea how much i want you.” from the smutty prompts?? With Agent Whiskey, maybe??
---
The Confession
This one is for @fandom-blackhole who was so nice and patient while I finished this AND who is getting the second half of her Ask soon with the Dave York prompt, too!! (Because she was so sweet and let me use her Asks as a trampoline for my Pero Tovar fic. You get BOTH baby! Here’s the first part…)
Word count: 1500+
Rating: mature, 18+ only
Outline: Agent Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x “You” (cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)
Warnings: Pure self-indulgent mature/filthy fluff; feeling all the feels; insecurity and self-doubt; angst, angst, angst; reader cries a little; Whiskey telling you how much he wants you and what he wants to do to you; open mouth kissing with tongue
“You have no idea how much I want you.” Your breath caught in your throat as you heard the words tumble out of your mouth. Jack’s deep brown eyes flicked to yours, painted with a wash of confusion and something that you hoped wasn’t pity. You suddenly felt exposed, more vulnerable than you had ever felt in your life. One heartbeat passed, then a second. You felt your throat close up in agony, an allergic reaction to your own stupidity for daring to say something to the handsome cowboy. You swallowed and looked at the scarred wooden tabletop as tears filled your eyes.
You hoped that he hadn’t heard you, that the honky-tonk bar music and glass bottles clinking elsewhere in the room had masked your confession. You hoped that he was drunk or insensible, or that the cigarette smoke was so thick that he couldn’t see your face. But you knew that the bar was only half full, that the air was clear, that the only person with a cigarette was ten feet away. You also knew that two beers wasn’t even enough to get him silly, and that Whiskey’s hearing and vision were both excellent.
You felt hot tears drip down your nose, watching them fall onto the glossy lacquered tabletop and splatter, bathing the tiny scratches of graffiti and gouged accidents in saltwater. The embarrassment of crying made you cry even harder, tears falling faster and now splashing on your denim-clad thighs. You swiped the back of one hand uselessly across your face, smearing the cold shame across your cheeks and chin.
“Forget it,” you warbled. You sucked in a hiss, then involuntarily hiccuped. You picked up your drink, hoping to stall, not daring to meet his eyes as you took a sip. From the corner of your eye you could see him staring at you, and you suddenly took great interest in the neon sign on the wall next to your booth. You set your glass back down a bit too hard with a clunk, and kept your eyes fixed on the condensation beading on the glass. “Just forget I said anything.”
“Hey. Look at me.” Jack’s voice was low and calm, a deep rumbly bass full of the authority he used when he gave orders. When you didn’t respond, he repeated it. “Look at me.” This time there was an urgency to his tone, the hint of something sharper.
You wanted to look at him, you did. But your shame and self-doubt kept your eyes rooted to your drink. Maybe if you stared hard enough you could shrink down and swim in the icy liquid, wash off your shame and crawl out renewed.
The third time he spoke, the words were nearly a whimper, a complete change from confident orders or the honeyed flirting you so often heard him use. They were full of softness and pleading and pain. “Look at me. I love you.”
Your eyes darted up to his of their own accord, and a second hiccup popped out and then evolved into a hysterical giggle. You snuffled and swallowed the laugh and shook your head. “You don’t have to say that. Don’t pity me.”
“Don’t tell me what I mean to say.” His voice had that edge again, the authority and the sharp rumble back in place. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it, darlin’.”
You looked away, tracing the outlines of the neon palm tree with your watery eyes, turning your head back and forth and tucking your hands between your knees to keep them from shaking. Your voice was buried under shame so you used the only tool you had, body language, to disagree with him. Your head shook side to side, over and over again, and you couldn’t or didn’t want to make it stop.
You didn’t want to believe him, but you had known Whiskey long enough to know that he meant what he said, that he didn’t lie or cover up unless it was for a job. But you didn’t dare hope that he really meant it, that he was finally ready to end the dance you had been doing around him for so long; the awkward half-hearted flirting and then giant steps back when you got too nervous.
You had been content for so long to “be friends,” to keep your hopes and your desires hidden away inside, because that was safer than letting them out. But of course after so many months, after the excitement of him asking you out for a drink, after the butterflies in your gut had exploded, after you had spent the last two hours looking deep into his eyes and sharing secrets with each other… of course you had blurted it out the first chance you got. Of course. And now it was out there, and you couldn’t swallow the confession back down. You had to face it, face him. And you couldn’t.
“Why don’t you believe me?” His eyebrows knitted together in a scowl. You had seen him wear that expression so many times before, but never directed at you. You had the idea that maybe if you confessed everything, all at once, this might end quickly and you could crawl back home to bed and just stay there.
“Because I’m nobody. I’m not flashy or exciting or important. I’m just me. And you’re surrounded by people who are brilliant or beautiful, who can move mountains with the snap of their fingers or invent new devices in five minutes or knock your socks off… and I’m not like that. I never will be.”
“Darlin’, look at me.” His voice was soft. “You are more than you think of yourself. You’re everything to me. I don’t spend my time with people who aren’t important to me. I don’t waste my time chasing down dead ends. I’m out with you tonight because I was hoping you felt the same ‘bout me that I’ve been feeling about you… that we could make this go somewhere.”
You shook your head again. “No… you don’t have to do that. You don’t have to pity fuck me.”
“Why is it so hard for you to believe me?” His voice was ornery. And then he suddenly got up from his side of the booth and slid in next to you. You let him wrap one arm around your shoulders and pull you closer. Maybe if you just let him hold you, you could get through the next minutes of agony with at least a warm memory and the scent of his cologne clinging to your shirt.
His free hand tucked up under your chin and he brought his lips to yours in a bruising kiss. He felt warm and solid and good, trustworthy and safe. You were sorry that he was going to realize soon how bad you were at all of this. How you would ruin it.
When he pulled away your head was calmer, on steadier ground than before. You no longer felt like you were on a roller coaster. Maybe you would survive tonight after all. He moved his big hand to cup your jaw and refused to let you duck your head again in embarrassment.
“I love you, I do. And I want to take you home and show you. I don’t care if you don’t believe me now. But I’ll be damned if I let you walk away before I’ve had the chance to try and convince you.”
You opened your mouth to protest. “No, I-” and Whiskey cut you off with another kiss, stealing your breath and your doubts in one go. He nibbled at your bottom lip before pulling away.
“No, you listen to me now. I know you don’t think very highly of yourself, darlin’, but I sure as hell do. I want to take you home and show you how beautiful you are. I want to rip your blouse off and scatter the buttons to kingdom come and make you go home tomorrow in one of my shirts.”
Your face flushed hot at that, and then twice as hot at his next words.
“I wanna open your legs and worship at your pussy and show you how talented I am with my tongue. I want to flip you all over my bed and take you every which way until you don’t know what’s what.” He frowned and shook his head.
“Now, I know I’m a selfish man for wanting to do all those things to you, but I also want to make you feel good, to make you feel loved. To show you what you mean to me. You can say yes or you can say no, but I can’t let you walk away without knowing what all I’m offerin'.” He nodded, that final nod you had seen so many times, the one that indicated he had said his piece and was done talking.
You looked deep into his eyes and felt your wobbly center finally halt, the anxiety and the fear coming to a stop, the butterflies finally stilled.
“Okay.” You nodded. “Yes, Jack. Please take me home. I want that. I want you.”
His face cracked into a wide grin and he practically leapt out of the bar booth, dragging you up into an embrace and another urgent kiss, his tongue tangling with yours until your head swam.
“Let’s go, sugar. Time’s a wastin’.”
---
My "all fics" tag list: @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul
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#agent whiskey fic#agent whiskey x you#agent whiskey x reader#agent jack whiskey daniels#agent jack whiskey daniels x you#agent jack whiskey daniels x reader#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fic#you ask and jhftm delivers
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I thought I told you to stay quiet with Javi and make it spicy pretty please? 💕💕💕💕💕 thank youuuu
WHEW!!! One hour, 793 words, and it is 🌶🌶🌶
Enjoy!!
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Be Quiet
Word count: 790+
Rating: explicit, 18+ only
Outline: Javier Peña x “You” (cis/het female reader who works at the DEA offices in Colombia; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”); standalone mini-fic that fits in with the first part of “Escalation” as you and Javier are starting your relationship
Warnings: mentions of sex acts in the DEA offices with the possibility of getting caught; oral sex/F receiving; light pinching and slapping on legs/F receiving; Javier’s a smidge mean in this one
---
Your back rubbed up against the cold tile of the restroom wall and the chill seeped through your satin blouse like it wasn’t even there. Your skirt was hitched up to your navel, one leg slung over Javier’s shoulder as he ate you out and plunged two thick fingers into you over and over again. You were completely hazed out, mussing Javier’s hair absentmindedly with both hands as you thunked the back of your head softly against the tiles.
“Shit, shit, shit…” you whispered urgently to him. “Keep going, Javi… keep going, just like that.” Your supporting leg started to shake and threatened to give out as Javier worked his magic on you. He was maddeningly skilled with those thick fingers of his, not to mention his plush, pouty lips and quicksilver tongue. His broad shoulders made an excellent resting spot for your legs, and you tried to remember how many times you had done this exact thing in this exact bathroom stall with him since you first started fucking each other. Four? Six?
Javier preferred to guide you into the farthest stall in the men’s room for this activity because it was seldom-used, and the men who did stop by were quick with their business. Men tended to pee in one of the urinals closest to the door, wash up, and leave. The women’s restrooms were all a non-stop revolving door of ladies chattering together and fixing their hair and makeup… and not infrequently since you had started working there, you had seen one or two miserable girls crying over the very man who currently had his face buried between your soft folds.
It wasn’t that you thought you were more special or more beautiful than those women, but you knew that the key difference between you and them was that you didn’t care if your “relationship” with Javier consisted of a quick fuck at work a few times a week. It was the 80s now after all; were you supposed to wait for a ring before you had a good time with a man?
Although if you were being entirely honest with yourself, you would admit that Javier was addicting. The more time you spent running around in secret, the more you wanted to; each assignation seemed to stoke the fire rather than quell it. And you couldn’t deny that you felt a little bit special that he had chosen you to be his new fuck-buddy, but you also knew that it could end at any time. So you took whatever he gave you with relish, treasuring each time that he looked deep into your eyes as he fucked you on his office couch or stroked the back of your neck as you blew him.
You let out a small squeal and a whimper. “Oh fuck! Javier right there, I’m going to come!” Javier laid a slap to the inside of your thigh, high up near your panties.
“Be quiet,” he growled. “Someone will hear you.”
You bit your lip and tried to breathe steadily. Javier hooked his fingers and hit the tender, spongy spot of tissue behind your pubic mound. You cried out a loud, “Ah!” without meaning to as your climax burst you open and made your head spin.
Javier pinched a good inch of your fleshy inner thigh between his fingers as you rode his other hand to completion. The pain mixed with pleasure and made your orgasm feel even sweeter by comparison.
“I thought I told you to stay quiet.” Javier’s voice had an edge to it that you had never heard him use on you. It sent a thrill up your core as you came down.
Javier removed his fingers with a loud squelch and then wiped them on the front of your panties, finishing with a long stroke down the inside of your thigh. You knew that the next time you used the ladies room you would be able to smell yourself, mixed with the slightly cigarette-smoky aura of Javier’s mouth and the woodsy-spicy notes of his cologne where his neck had rubbed the inside of your leg.
Just as you grabbed Javier’s tie to pull him to you for a kiss, the restroom door opened and you both froze. Javier leaned over you, bracing both arms against the tile wall as if he was providing cover. You listened to a man humming loudly as he urinated. Javier’s deep coffee eyes were locked on yours, and you couldn’t look away.
He leaned toward you and his mouth came to rest on your ear, his mustache tickling you and sending goosebumps racing down your neck as he whispered as quietly as he could...
“You make that much noise again and we get caught? I’m never going to fuck you again, Querida.”
---
"Escalation" series masterlist
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#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x reader#javier pena x you#javier pena x reder#javier peña x you#javier peña x reader#narcos fic#narcos fanfic#narcos fanfiction#you ask and JHFTM delivers
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Hi Claire!! Can I request a fluffy/possibly smutty little piece? I would love to go on a hike with Frankie to be outdoors with him (and stare at his butt in cargo pants)
Oh yeahhh, I do love hiking!! And apparently I also love thinking about hiking with Frankie, and then surprising him with a little makeout sesh and a blowjob "al fresco." LOL, here you go!!
The Hike
Word count: 790+
Rating: explicit, 18+ only
Outline: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x “You” (gender-neutral reader, “blank canvas”/no physical description/no use of “Y/N”)
Warnings: Frankie’s cute butt in cargo pants; a little bit of smooching and dry-humping; outdoor oral sex/Frankie receiving
---
The hike had been long but not difficult, Frankie trailing ahead of you a few steps to navigate the path and make sure he could hold a hand out to you if needed, to help you over a steep incline or down a rocky slope.
You had taken advantage of the view, keeping your eyes on his rear end far more than was wise, and you had slipped twice and nearly twisted your ankle. But it was almost impossible to keep your eyes off Frankie and on your feet where they belonged. As the afternoon wore on, his curls got more damp and his neck got more pink, and you were more interested in licking at the little trails of sweat on his skin than on placing your feet properly.
You made it around the loop and back to the parking area just as the sun was setting. At this time of year the state park was empty of its usual vacationing families, and since it was a random Tuesday evening instead of a Saturday morning, that meant that Frankie’s truck was the only vehicle in the lot when you finally made it back. You grinned at him and took a seat on a bench next to the park restrooms, a squat cinderblock building that marked the start of the trailhead.
He sat next to you and you both gulped the clean air and water from your bottles. He turned to you with a smile, and you found yourself leaning into him to kiss him. He responded eagerly, opening his mouth and placing one big, warm hand on the back of your neck. The kisses turned urgent, and as you turned to get close to him, you realized that straddling him on the bench was the preferable position. You shifted toward him and swung one leg over his lap, settling down against him and reveling in the feeling of his broad, warm hands stroking up and down your thighs.
As dusk approached, kisses turned to open-mouthed devouring, a contest of who wanted who more, and Frankie’s erection grew warm and solid under you. You stood up and softly pushed his shoulders back, positioning him to lie down on the bench with his feet on the ground. You bent over him and opened his zipper, reaching in gently to free him from the confines of sweaty pants and too-warm underwear. He bit his lip and moaned.
“You don’t have to-” he panted. “We can just-” but you cut him off with the answer of your lips closing gently around his penis. You used your hand to guide his solid length into your mouth, opening wide to slide down over him as far as you could. He was salty with fresh perspiration and tasted divine, and you could still smell the spice of his body wash from that morning’s shower in his soft curls. He was no longer present with you, moaning and pressing the heels of his hands over his eyes.
You worked your hand in a gentle twist around his base as your lips touched your fist. You licked and kissed and sucked and his moans turned to whines, soft ‘Oh’s and ‘Umm’s barely audible. You increased the pace and the pressure of your warm tongue, letting a small dribble of saliva run down and around your fingers.
“Oh fuck!” Frankie’s sharp cry echoed against the wall of the restrooms and off into the trees. He was close. You paid special attention to the underside of his head, tracing the curves with a firm tongue, switching to kitten-soft licks to taste the sharp pre-come that was starting to emerge from his slit. You knew exactly where to be firm and where to be gentle with him as your tongue roamed. You went back again for a deep dive, taking him all the way to the back of your tongue, almost cupping him with the hollow of your throat.
You heard a sharp intake of breath and Frankie’s urgent, “I’m- oh fuck!” and suddenly he erupted, hot and salty and thick into your mouth. You let the semen pool around the inside of your lips, and you stayed attached to him there until he stopped throbbing. You pulled off of him, sucking him clean and then you turned and spat into the grass beside the truck’s bumper. The shiny white blob was barely visible in the dark as it sailed away.
He lay there, completely spaced out and then came slowly back to life. He tucked his soft penis back into his pants and then sat up and gave you a breathless, “Holy shit, babe.” You grinned and laughed and sat back down beside him on the bench, rinsing your mouth with the last warm dribbles in your water bottle.
---
Just-here-for-the-moment’s masterlist
Tag list: Please message me if you do not want to be tagged on my "all fics" list! :)
@221bshrlocked @danniburgh @starlightmornings @honestly-shite @spacedilf @anaaaispunk @silverwolf319 @greeneyedblondie44 @maxwell–lord @nicolethered @the-queen-of-fools @driedgreentomatoes @juletheghoul @dihra-vesa @anxiousandboujee
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New series: "Paloma" - Statesman!Frankie Morales, Agent Whiskey & "You"
I got a request and my brain went wild, so it's going to be a series.
After a lot of considerations and thinking thots 💀
This is my request loolll
Whiskey x a reader who’s a coworker (you know my age, so 😬 age gap 😬) who also used to have a uh, relations with Statesman!Frankie…
Oh but they don’t know about each other
You asked about length and no preference for me really, totally up to you! Just make it cute and nasty 🥵
Thank you ♥️🤣
@driedgreentomatoes - Here you go, baby, the first installment of the "Paloma" series.
It's soft and sweet, but the nastiness will be coming in Part 2!!!
#you ask and JHFTM delivers#agent whiskey x reader#frankie morales x reader#Statesman!Frankie Morales x reader
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24-Hour GIF Challenge Masterlist
Welcome to the 24-Hour GIF challenge!! A beautiful baby that @nicolethered and I conceived together.
The idea is that Nicole sends me 3 random GIFs involving a Pedro Pascal character, and then I have 24 hours from the time I open the “Ask” to write something, anything, and tie them all together. Any fic style, any length, any universe... as long as I incorporate all 3 GIFs!
"The Dance Instructor" - AU dance instructor!Javier Peña x female reader
"Don't Go" - Javier Peña x female reader
(coming soon!)
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OK first of all, can I say that I love you? ❤️🔥❤️🔥 you’re so sweet, and so kind! I love how we met through the beautiful man that is Pedro Pascal, and blossomed a brilliant friendship out of it. You’re legit the sweetest, and it’s really cool to that you’re starting your creative writing class! Good luck, I hope it all goes so well for you! 💜
I actually do have a request in mind, and I know that your beautiful talent of writing will definitely do it justice.
OK but hear me out……
Suburban murder daddy Dave York has an infatuation with you. Since he lives across the street he can see all of your movements, whether it’s as simple as cleaning up your yard to lounging by the pool. But one day he has enough due to Carol not helping the needs he has. So as you see him strutting across the driveway with such power, you call out to him to check in. Knowing this is the first time you both have spoken to each other. He can’t see straight through his desires….
I will now leave the rest up to you
Love you bestie 🥺❤️🔥
@anaaaispunk - Here you go baby!! One-shot "Neighbors"
I'm not a fan of Dave blaming Carol for his unmet needs, so I put in that he's divorcing her and he's a free agent. Let me know what you think!!! :)
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Request WIPs Roll Call! (June 16, 2021)
Hi! If your name is on the list below, I have a Request/WIP in progress for you this week, and I have not forgotten about you. And I am also ridiculously excited about what I'm whipping up for ya! :D
@honestly-shite @spacedilf @quica-quica-quica @dihra-vesa @hnt-escape @nicolethered @deberiaestarescribiendo
If your name is not on this list but you want it to be, or if you made a request and you think I missed it (hey, it's possible. As awesome as I am, I'm only human and sometimes I happen to forget or miss things.) Please smash that "Ask" button and I'll get you on the bus with the rest of these thirsty peeps!
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Congratulations on your follower milestone!!!! I spun the wheel and WHAT A JOURNEY! It precariously landed on the line between Dave York/LK and Frankie Morales/BK but the machine knows what’s deep in my heart and told me it was Frankie Morales/BK. So, if you are so inclined… please and thank you so so much. 💚💚💚
Ohhhhhhhhh, Thia… Thia, Thia, Thia… you’re going to be the death of me. Thank you for your patience as I work my way through these 300 Followers Asks celebration prompts! I know this is like 6 months in the making, so I hope this hits the spot!!
Word count: 1160
Rating: explicit, 18+ only
Outline: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x “You” (cis-female reader, “blank canvas”/no physical description/no racial description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)
Warnings: Frankie pining and pining and pining and refusing to use his words; basically just a fic from Frankie’s point of view about all the things he feels about you and wants to do with you; mentions of angst and pregnancy and did I mention this is BREEDING KINK?
Frankie wonders if you know, or (more realistically) how much you know… how he feels about you, what he thinks on nights like tonight. He comes home late after a night out with the guys, stands in the entrance of your bedroom, props a shoulder against the doorway just to look at you while you doze. Your book lays abandoned on the bedspread, gorgeous face half in shadow from the soft, warm glow of the lamp.
He’s torn between watching you sleep, taking in every inch of your body and face like he’s trying to memorize it… or waking you up to satiate the sudden clench in his gut, the urge he feels to turn off the light and rouse you so that he can take you quietly in the darkness. He likes the hush sometimes, the lateness of the hour making you both quieter than you would normally be. He wonders if you know how he feels when he sees you like this, catches you unaware. How much his mind reels with fevered impulses that he tries to tamp down and then immediately wonders why he should even try to quiet them.
He wonders if you know how much he worships you, how he can feel your soft skin under his fingers even when he’s working, driving, supposed to be paying attention to something else. He wonders if you know how much your smile is like a punch in the gut, how your eyes glow when you look at him, how unworthy he feels of that admiration. He thinks he could admit it, maybe… if he had the words to describe it.
But you have to know already, don’t you? You must, living with him and letting him love you for this long. You can’t be completely ignorant of it all… the way he stares at you while you watch TV next to him on the couch, the way his heart squeezes and skips a beat when he comes home from work to find you singing lightly in the kitchen as you mix and chop things for dinner, how his mouth goes dry when you set a plate in front of him and lean down to give him a kiss. He thinks you’re going to wake up one day and realize that you’ve been wasting your time, wasting your energy on him like a fool.
So he tries to tell you, not with his words but with his hips, with his fingers and his mouth. He eats you out until you come, squeezing his fingers so hard that he thinks they’ll break, then kissing your back as he takes you from behind, grabbing a handful of your tit as he thrusts into you. He wants to spill it all right then, his feelings and desires, wants to tell you how beautiful you are and how much he loves you, but all that comes out is a strained, “Fuck… gorgeous.” And then he’s silent again, brow furrowed as you arch your hips to take him deeper, let him fill you up. His brain goes fuzzy white for a second and then he’s crashing back into you, balls drawing up to spill everything, and there’s a whisper in his brain, a tickle of want and need, the urge to tell you to stop your birth control and let him fill you up for real. But he can’t.
So he keeps himself buried deep, catching his breath, sweaty forehead pressed to your back. Bent over like a man in prayer, thankful for the gorgeous goddess who shares her body with him so freely. He wants to tell you to marry him, make him the luckiest man in the world, have twenty of his babies and just stay with him until he breathes his last, because if you leave it’ll kill him.
He softens inside of you and then pulls out, fights the urge to scoop up his spend and push it back inside of you with his thick fingers. Cautions himself to not even look at your slick, puffy slit, lest he catch a glimpse of something precious dripping out. Then he collapses on the bed, hand pressed to his forehead, and he watches you lay back and motion him over to rest his head on your breast. He scoots closer and hums as you wrap your arm around his neck, stroking softly at his curls, his shoulder, his ears.
He slides his hand over your ribs, palms your other breast and sighs, feeling the warmth and the weight of it in his hand, and the warmth and the weight of what he really wants to ask you blocks his throat. Marry me. Have my babies. Let me fuck you every day for the rest of my life. But he can’t.
So he skates his hand down your side, his warm, flat palm coming to rest on the soft expanse of you between navel and pubic mound, the fertile scent of you still on his mouth. He wants to rub and grasp and hold you, the urge to cradle and protect your womb through your skin is overwhelming.
He wonders what they would look like, whose eyes and whose smile and whose ears they’ll get. He thinks about filling you up, about fucking you twice a day every day until you’re puffy and round and swollen with the evidence of his love. He thinks about asking you, about how you’ll laugh and say no and leave, or maybe how you’ll smile and kiss him and stay. He can’t stop thinking about it, about what it would be like if you took the ultimate risk, gave him the gift of your body, took part in the crazy adventure of making a baby with him. He thinks about your tits, how they’d swell and how sensitive you would get, how sex would feel while you’re pregnant, how much you would lean on him and rely on his protection and love. How fucking hot you would look carrying his baby inside of you.
He sighs and you press a kiss to his forehead. “What’cha thinking about?” your soft voice urging him to spill everything.
He pauses at that. Can he say something? Can he even talk, given the images and impulses crashing around in his brain? He wants you so bad again, right now, cock twitching back to hardness at the thought of lying here like this with you, but sometime in the future. The same view only with your belly round and swollen, asking him to get you some water, to rub your aching feet, to help you get off because you can’t reach your vibrator that far anymore, to fuck you again and again becuase you’ve got crazy pregnancy hormones making you weak for him. His brain is so noisy with the urge to fuck you, deposit a part of himself deep and watch it grow, watch you care for it and protect it until it’s time…
“Just thinking…” he says. “About us.”
---
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#JHFTM 300 followers celebration#You ask and JHFTM delivers!#pedrostories#pedro stories#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fic#frankie morales x you#frankie catfish morales x you#frankie morales x reader#frankie catfish morales x reader#frankie morales x female reader#frankie catfish morales x female reader#frankie morales smut#frankie catfish morales smut
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claire!! my love!!
i was just wondering if you could write me something for din using the prompts
“H-how long have you been standing there?” &
“Did you enjoy yourself last night?”
maybe you could also throw in a lil bit of din the dilf’s breeding kink??
(could you uh make it extra smutty and make my ovaries explode??)
thank you!! i love you!!!!
OMG Jo, seriously, you’re KILLING me over here. This was sooooo filthy and fun to write LOL. I hope you like it!! 😘
Word count: 5860+
Outline: “Mando”/Din x “You” (cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)
Warnings: Explicit, 18+ ONLY; Din eavesdropping; female masturbation; Din physically crowding you up against a wall; a sprinkling of angst; blackout room conditions so Din can remove the helmet; breeding kink; unprotected P/V sex; Din has a filthy mind and a filthy praise-kink mouth to match; BREEDING KINK out the wazoo; a little bit of sexy anticipation, then a little bit of romance, and then just pure SMUT
You opened the door to the hallway after your shower and let the cool air wash over you as you got dressed. You knew Mando was up in the cockpit fiddling with something that was going to take a while, and the small bathroom was entirely too steamy for your liking. The vent fan never seemed to keep up with the hot water you luxuriated in after a mission like this.
You and Mando had been on a desert planet for three days, braving periodic dust storms to find the bounty, and the endless waves of dirt had seeped into your mouth and nose. It had even seemed to settle into your joints, making them ache. You finished toweling off and stepped into your underwear.
“Dammit!” Your foot caught on the waistband but you recovered your balance quickly. You started to wonder what would happen if Mando walked in on you, caught you naked. Would he even notice? He didn’t treat you like a woman while you were hunting or fighting together. If he saw you naked it would probably be nothing. He would probably treat you like you had simply taken off a cape or a glove.
But during the nine months you had spent with him, working alongside him, talking to him in the little short conversations he actually held with you, you had fallen in… maybe not love, but something like it. Lust maybe, or yearning, or something equally desperate. You didn’t want to call it love when you didn’t even know his name.
Thoughts of Mando were starting to fill your every waking moment. You fantasized constantly about ripping off his armor and his cape, licking every inch of the expanse of skin underneath, seeing his face and making genuine eye contact. You touched yourself so often in your bunk before sleep that you had forgotten to be quiet a few times. But his stoic posturing and lack of any indication to you that he saw you, or that he recognized that you were a woman at all only drove your infatuation. It was hell.
“Man probably doesn’t have a single atom of sexuality in his body.” You muttered to yourself as you looked in the mirror and applied cream to your desert-dry skin. “I could probably lay naked across his lap and he wouldn’t even notice. Fucking sexy goddamn idiot, walking around like he’s swinging the galaxy’s biggest dick. Fuck me.”
You propped one foot up on the edge of the sink and started to apply cream to your leg. “Fucking sexy moron. Probably doesn’t even notice I have boobs. Might as well be a fucking frog lady for all he notices.”
You began to wonder if talking to yourself was a sign of some kind of hyperdrive-induced madness. Not that it mattered. Your only conversation partner was so closed off, so short with his answers that you might as well talk to yourself. You shrugged and switched to your other leg.
“Maybe I should jump him, make him notice me for once. Ha, like that would do anything. He’d probably freeze me in carbonite so that he doesn’t have to hear me talking so much.” You put your foot down and slathered cream on your arms and shoulders, following your weird train of thought.
“... or maybe he’s into that. Real weird shit, like freezing women in carbonite and jerking off on them?” You held that mental image in your brain for a half-second too long and then shuddered.
“Ew. Gross. Or maybe he’s just into normal kinky shit and hasn’t been around a woman in so long he’s forgotten how it works.”
You grabbed your toothbrush and started to clean your teeth. You spit out a mouthful of foam and then pointed the toothbrush at your reflection while you continued.
“Maybe you’re it, sweetheart.” You winked and smiled at yourself. “Maybe you’re just the woman he needs to remind him what love is. Ha! Love…”
You smirked at yourself and continued brushing. You spit out the final mouthful of foam and leaned close to the mirror, looking at your eyeballs and gums up close, inspecting yourself for signs of ill health. You lowered your voice in a parody of a sexy accent.
“Or maybe you’re just the woman he needs to remind him how luxurious a warm pussy and a pair of boobs feel in the dark when you’re out in the cold reaches of space.”
You nodded once at your reflection, as if a vital consensus with mirror-you had been reached. You stepped into your sleeping pants and slippers and pulled your shirt on over your head. You grabbed your toiletries bag and stepped out the door, taking a left toward your bunk.
You ran into a wall of Beskar. Oh fuck.
Mando was standing with his shoulder propped against the wall between the ‘fresher and your bunk. The ladder to the cockpit was about six steps behind you, which meant that he hadn’t just come down the ladder, because you would have seen him in the mirror while you were talking to yourself, which meant… Oh FUCK.
“H-how long have you been standing there?” Your voice was high and squeaky.
Mando didn’t respond, just tilted his helmet an inch to the side, like he was studying you. You felt your stomach flip over and something warm and wet rushed to your crotch. You hoped you hadn’t just peed yourself a little from fear.
You were about to open your big mouth and make some excuses about dust madness or sleep deprivation when you heard him sigh… or you thought you did anyway. It was hard to discern that soft of a sound through his modulator while your heart was pounding in your ears.
“Long enough,” was all he said, and then he walked past you and climbed the ladder to the cockpit.
You stood, rooted to the spot for ages, until you shook your head clear and went to your bunk. Maybe that hadn’t happened at all. Maybe you imagined it. Maybe you should get some sleep.
You tossed and turned for ages, trying to pinpoint the exact moment where Mando could have crossed the hall without you seeing him in the mirror, and trying to recall exactly what you had said and when. Either he had crossed the hall outside the ‘fresher door in the half second when you had pulled your shirt over your head, or he had been there since you got out of the shower and opened the door. If he had been there since you opened the door, that meant that he had heard everything, every crazy thought that you had voiced. But if he had somehow only crossed the hall while you were pulling on your shirt, then why would he have said ‘Long enough’?
Your panicked calculations ran over and over in your head, doing nothing to calm your distress. The more you thought about Mando, the more you wanted him. Okay, so what if he overheard everything? Did that change anything? No. Apparently he had decided to just… not react to it. He had swept past you and made for the ladder, and in that moment where he shared your space you had caught a whiff of his scent, that mix of cold metal and scruffy wool, the musk of something salty and warm that lay just underneath, which must be just him.
As you thought about that moment in the hall, your fingers moved almost automatically to the waistband of your sleeping pants, and you savored the coolness of your fingers when they met the warm mound of flesh just under your navel. You stroked yourself there, moving lower with each graze of your fingertips until you felt the first whisper of the coarse curls that dusted your pubic mound. You brushed your fingers along, moving lower and lower until they reached the valley between your outer lips, the crevice that you opened with a single sweep of your finger, where warmth and wetness lay buried.
You propped your legs open and found your clit, the little bud that made you gasp when you touched it and made you want to cry Mando’s name loud enough to echo through the whole ship. You clapped a hand over your mouth to muffle your moans while you rubbed harsh circles around your clit, dipping your fingers occasionally into the pool of slick that was growing by the minute. You dragged the wetness back up to your nub of nerves and kept going, harder, faster, almost punishing yourself for daring to even think about Mando that way.
He clearly didn’t want you, and the idea that you might end up torturing yourself like this for months or years longer produced an ache, a soul-deep longing to just stay close to him no matter what the circumstances, so that you could keep getting the little glimpses of him that fed your obsession. Once he had reached for a lever in the cockpit and you had caught a flash of skin at his wrist, a centimeter of flesh that fueled your bedtime fantasies for weeks.
And then just now in the hall, that rush of air in his wake as he passed you, the smells of him that combined to make him: his scent, his aura, his presence. That salt-metal-musk of him, and a hint of soap, the buttery-woodsy scent that perfumed the steamy bathroom after he had showered. You had gone in once right after he left the ‘fresher before the vents had cleared it, and the smell of his soap, so masculine and clean, had made your cunt clench. After that you seemed to find excuses almost every time to use the ‘fresher immediately after he had showered and vacated it.
You felt like a creep but you liked smelling his soap, liked the way the steam warmed your face and made it prickle as you sat and inhaled a part of him that was there but couldn’t be seen. It was almost a religious experience like that, ephemeral and intangible, with the undercurrent of shame and fear of being caught. What kind of weirdo sits and smells someone else’s shower steam and gets turned on?
The memory of all the times you had touched yourself like this before, in your bunk and in your shower and in the steamy bathroom inhaling the clouds of Mando’s soap-scent all crashed down on you at once, and a cry ripped from your throat.
You bit it off halfway and it ended with an “-mmmh!” You hadn’t heard any sounds from beyond your door, so you weren’t worried that Mando had heard you. He was probably still up in the cockpit, fiddling endlessly with knobs and buttons, trying to extract the best fuel efficiency possible. You rubbed yourself more gently until your climax shuddered to a stop, and then it was over.
You wrapped yourself up in your blankets and slept like a rock.
The next morning you woke up tense and nervous about seeing Mando. Despite being sure that he had decided to ignore what he had heard, you were still anxious about facing him. You got dressed and stuck your head out your door, not seeing him out in the hallway. Your shoulders relaxed a bit. You decided to try to just go up to the cockpit like normal. If he was going to ignore it, you could do the same… or at least you could try.
You closed your door behind you just in time for his heavy footsteps to descend the ladder from the cockpit. Fuck.
“Morning,” you mumbled. He hit the ground and turned to you, not moving a muscle. Oh stars, here we go, you thought to yourself.
He nodded his helmet at you once in greeting. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yeah, yes. Yes I did, thank you… You?” You made awkward, polite conversation back, even though you were half convinced he didn’t ever sleep at all. Just one more mystery of the Mandalorian you were probably never going to solve. But at least he didn’t seem like he was interested in talking about anything he may have overheard, or that he was offended enough to kick you off the ship, so that was a relief.
“Yes.” He held his visor trained on you from just a few feet away. You found yourself fixing your gaze on his neck, not bold enough to look him directly in the region of his eyes like you normally did.
You waited for him to say more. When he didn’t you found yourself nervously trying to fill the silence.
“Um, what’s on today’s schedule? We still traveling or did you want to stop anywhere? I mean, I’m fine with either option, I don’t need to stop. But if you wanted to-”
“No.”
You were almost grateful for the way he interrupted you.
“If you still want me to repair the-”
“No.”
You were starting to feel a little bit of panic. The topics of traveling and ship repairs were pretty much all you had to rely on without resorting to an awkward silence... or worse, broaching the subject of last night. You vowed not to ever talk about that if you could help it.
You nodded once and then fixed your gaze on the toes of your boots. You put your hands behind your hips and leaned back against the closed door of your bunk in a parody of a relaxed posture. You folded your lips in between your teeth and bit down, forcing yourself to look back up at his visor. If this silence lasted any longer, you were going to break and start chattering nonsense just to fill the void.
Mando took a step toward you and you involuntarily flinched. He paused, and you were filled with regret. Had you scared him off? Had you made things that terrible and awkward? Was he going to kick you off the ship?
You forced yourself to breathe evenly, in and out through your nose. In the quiet it sounded like you were taking big shuddering gasps of air. Fuck, I can’t even breathe like a normal person.
“Did you enjoy yourself last night?” Mando’s voice was low, and you weren’t sure you had heard him correctly.
You stuttered, “Wh- What? What do you mean?”
“Did you,” he took another step closer, “...enjoy yourself last night?”
Oh fuck, so he was going to talk about your embarrassing bathroom monologue after all. Fuck fuck fuck.
“No, I-” You forced yourself to at least maintain eye contact with his visor as you stumbled over your words. “I don’t enjoy that kind of thing. I mean, I don’t do it for fun, I was just, ummm... bored and I- It’s not fun for me or anything. I mean, I don’t- I don’t always- Look, I know it was rude and I’m sorry.”
“So,” he moved closer, nearly towering over you where you leaned against the wall, “...you didn’t enjoy that... last night?”
You gulped and stuttered more nonsense. “No, I- I mean, I was just trying to fill some time and I thought I was going a little, you know, nuts after that last mission. I’m sorry if you overheard me. I mean- I just- I-”
“Because it sounded to me like you were enjoying yourself.”
“Ummm… no- no, sir,” Oh fuck, did I just call him sir? What the fuck is wrong with me?
You tried again, “I’m sorry if you overheard me. I was- It was rude, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I said.”
Mando propped one arm against the wall near your head, boxing you in. You wouldn’t be able to untangle your own arms from behind you without pushing your body against his.
He inclined his visor lower and purred, “What you said?”
“Yes, in the ‘fresher, I’m sorry you overheard me with the door open, talking to myself about you. I’m- I won’t do it again.”
He tilted his visor just an inch lower, and you got the distinct impression he was enjoying this, enjoying watching you squirm.
“I wasn’t talking about the ‘fresher.”
Your heart stopped for what felt like a full second, and then picked back up at double speed.
“What?” Your voice was a mere squeak, barely a whistle of air forming one word.
“I wasn't talking about the ‘fresher.” Mando’s voice was low, as dangerous as you had ever heard him.
Your eyes were glued to the curved black of his visor, and you couldn’t form coherent thoughts or any words besides stuttering out another weak, “W- what?”
Mando brought his free hand up to your face. His fingers were curled just under your chin, the pad of one huge thumb pressed flat under your lower lip.
“I was talking about you touching yourself in your bunk where you think I can’t hear every moan that you make. Where you think I can’t hear you fucking your own fingers practically every night, for months.” He was holding your chin in place with his gloved fingers. Under any other circumstances you would have been drooling with lust from both your mouth and your pussy. But this was torture.
You let a small sigh out, and it felt like all of your last bit of life force went with it. For the first time in your life, you felt like you were going to faint. You managed to shudder a great heaving breath in and stay upright. You had survived worse, you could manage to get through this little embarrassment, and then you could make your break from the ship, leave the Mandalorian, and go to whichever corner of the galaxy he wasn’t going to be in. You tried to remind yourself that nobody ever died from a little embarrassment.
“I- I…” You tried to form some kind of rational thought, and then you seized on a little spark of anger. You jerked your chin sideways to get it loose from his fingers, and then you scowled up at his visor. You tried to get very angry at the idea of him listening in, when that was actually all you had wanted for months.
“That was private, Mando. Are you saying that I should be embarrassed about a biological function of the human body? Masturbation is normal.”
He practically whispered, and you had to strain to hear him over your own pounding heart.
“I didn’t say it wasn’t normal, sweetheart. I asked if you had enjoyed yourself, because it sounded to me like you did. Contrary to popular belief, I have noticed that you’re a woman, and I do have at least one atom of sexuality in my body. I’ve touched myself at night, too, thinking about you.”
Oh stars, if embarrassment couldn’t kill you, the sudden jump in arousal might. You felt your stomach flip and your pussy clenched hard around nothing. The fresh clean underwear you had put on this morning was drenched.
You couldn’t speak, but Mando seemed to be fine continuing his train of thought. “And if you wanted any help in that department, I know a certain ‘sexy moron’ who might be able to assist.”
“Oh fuck.” Your voice was back to a squeak.
“That’s not an answer.” He tilted his visor just a degree to the right. “Do you want my help with that?”
You closed your eyes and nodded vigorously, nearly headbutting his helmet. “Yeah, yes. Yes please. Yes.”
“Good.” Mando stood back from the wall and put his hands on his hips. Now that he wasn’t crowding you, you felt like you could breathe again.
He held one gloved hand out to you. “We have at least a few hours with the ship on autopilot. Your bunk or mine?”
“Yours.” You pushed yourself off the wall and nearly fell. Your legs had gone numb. Mando caught you around your waist and looked down at you.
“Ground rules first. One, you can’t see my face. We have to leave all of the lights off.”
You nodded up at him. “Yeah, okay. I’m okay with that.”
“Good. Two, you have to stop creeping into the ‘fresher after every shower I take. That’s weird, cyar'ika.”
Your eyes fluttered closed and you laughed. “Yeah, okay. Sorry.”
“Three, you can call me Din. It’s my name. But you only use it when we’re alone, got it? Everywhere else we go, I’m still ‘Mando’ to you.”
You looked back up at his visor with your best, most honest face. “Yeah, I can do that… Din. That’s nice.”
Mando released you and held your hand as you walked the three steps over to his bunk’s door. He opened it and motioned for you to get inside. You kicked off your boots and crawled up on the bed. Mando closed the door and started to remove his armor and his layers of underclothes. You took the hint and started to undress yourself.
You lay naked on the bed, taking in the sight of him as he disrobed in the dim light. It was odd that he could get entirely naked and let you see his cock, his broad shoulders, thick and solid muscles from fighting, scars and all… but not his face.
As if he could read your thoughts, he turned to you and said, “I can’t let you see my face unless we’re married, unless you’re my riduur, my wife.”
You blinked at that, the thought of being lucky enough to become his wife was dizzying, potent and attractive.
You had a sudden thought and sat up, dangling your legs off the side of the bed. “Are we- are we ruining that? If we do this can I still be- I mean, we’re not supposed to wait until after marriage, right?”
“We?”
“I’ve been on your ship for months, Mand- I mean, Din.” You shook your head to clear it.
“I’ve been lusting after you since the first time you said my name. I’ve been half distracted by thoughts of you every day since I got here…” You trailed off, unsure of how to say what you were trying to say without just coming right out and saying it.
Din moved closer and sat on the edge of the bed next to you. “Are you saying you want to do more than just fuck?”
“Well… yeah. I mean, if I just wanted a fuck I could’ve gone to any brothel right near the landing pads, at any of the places we’ve stopped.” You looked down at your lap, somehow more embarrassed by the admission that you hadn’t had sex in months than you had been by all of the conversation up to now.
Mando slipped one of his broad hands into yours, intertwining his fingers. The warmth and the new, strange sight of his calloused hand holding yours so gently gave you the courage to finish voicing your thoughts.
“But I… I didn’t want that. I don’t want just a fuck…” You looked back up at his visor and took a steadying breath in. “I want you, Din. I love you.”
Din let a long breath out, “Cyar'ika, I- I’m happy to hear you say that, but I don’t want you to get into anything with me that you might regret.”
Your voice was quiet. “Does that mean you don’t love me?”
He turned you to face him, broad hands holding your shoulders. “No, that’s not what it means. I- I’ve felt the same way about you since you got here. But I had to hide it because this is a hard life that I’ve chosen.”
“I know that, Din-”
He cut you off. “No. This is it. We may not be able to settle down or stay in one place. I can’t guarantee that there will be any luxury or softness in your life. It means that I love you so much that I want you to be absolutely sure of what you’re choosing, if you choose me.”
You blinked up at him. Did he really not see?
“Din, I’ve fought alongside you for months. I thought that I had proved myself capable, but if you think I’m weak or I can’t handle it-”
“Mesh’la, I know you can handle it, I know you can fight and that you’re strong. But it has to be your choice.” He took both of your hands in his. “You can’t choose this on a whim. You have to choose with your eyes open.”
He brought his hand back up to grip your chin again, thumb planted firmly to tilt your face up to his. You saw yourself reflected in his visor, and you realized instantly that your face looked just as determined as you felt inside. You brought both hands up to wrap them around his shoulders, stroking the skin on the back of his neck. He dropped his hand from your face and wrapped both arms around your waist.
“My eyes are open, Din, and I choose you. If you need more time, if you don’t want to decide right now, I’ll wait for you. I’ll stay and fight alongside you and prove my love to you a thousand times if that’s what it takes. But I choose you, and everything that goes along with that choice.”
Din bent his head to yours and touched the front of his helmet to your forehead. The gesture was strangely somehow more intimate than the fact that you were sitting naked next to one another on his bunk. You sighed and closed your eyes, reveling in the feeling of him under your fingertips, the contrast of the cool metal against your forehead, the warmth of his soft skin where it pressed against yours.
“I want you to have my warriors, mesh’la. Do you want that? Do you want me to father your children?”
Your arousal surged back suddenly. YES, your entire body screamed at you. You inclined your head back and leaned your face up to kiss the top of his visor.
“I’d love nothing better, Din. If you want me, I’m yours. I’ll bear twenty warriors if you want me to.”
“Mesh’la, I-” He stopped. “Not here. I can’t marry you here. You deserve to do it on some beautiful green planet, to wear flowers in your hair and say your vows with me in the sunlight.”
“Okay, Din. Whatever you say. I don’t care where we make our vows.” You stroked your hands down his broad shoulders and gripped his biceps. “I’ll do it here, I’ll do it on the farthest-flung planet if you say so. I’ll do whatever you say, whatever it takes to call myself your wife.”
He leaned his helmet to your head again, and whispered, “Cyar'ika, my beautiful girl. My girl… close your eyes.”
You sat back on the bed and closed your eyes. Din got up and you heard the soft hiss of his helmet coming off, then a thud as he laid it carefully on the floor. Then there was a soft click as he turned the lights off before he joined you on the bed. He gently pushed you onto your back, and you felt him recline next to you, your bodies and legs pressed together as he lay on his side facing you.
His voice was strange without the modulator, somehow the same velvety tone, but entirely different altogether. “You can open your eyes, cyar'ika.”
You did, and found that the entire bunk was dark, no seam or seep of light from the hallway around the door. You turned your face to Din and whispered his name, “Kiss me.”
He did, and you melted into it. You realized suddenly that although you had spent so many months fantasizing about what he looked like under his helmet, you actually didn’t care now. You just wanted to feel him and be with him. To be his.
You felt his erection grow hot and hard against your leg, and you whimpered as his tongue probed your mouth. His lips were soft, his kisses languid and deliberate. You were split in two by the desire to take your time like this, and the equally strong throbbing in your clit that urged you to hurry along to the fucking.
You decided to let him go as slow as he wanted. There would be plenty of time for that later, and you suddenly realized just how quickly things had moved to this point. This was your first time kissing the man who would be your husband. The thought of it nearly bowled you over. Last night in front of the mirror you had called him some very bad things while also somehow complimenting him, and then you had touched yourself in desperation like you had almost every night for the last nine months. And now, here you were in his bunk, naked together and engaged to be married. There was no need to rush things.
Din kissed you like he was trying to memorize you, and you gave him the best of yourself in return. You whispered and murmured sweet words to him in between kisses, licked into his mouth with the same vigor that he licked into yours, and stroked his cheek with your fingers.
“Din, I love you so much. I want to be yours forever.” You kissed him deeply and pulled his hand down to rest on your belly. “Please give me children. Please let me carry a part of you inside me. I want you to fill me up with your seed, let it grow inside my womb.”
“Mesh’la,” he nearly whined at that.
He kissed you again more aggressively as he rolled himself on top, bracing himself on his hands above you. You gripped his forearms just below his elbows and got wetter at the feel of the hard muscles under his hot skin. He was strong, you had seen that in action many times, but the corded muscles just under the skin were proof of his presence, the man under the armor.
The realization that you would be the only woman for the rest of his life to feel him this way made you moan.
“Din, take me. Please? Take me now.”
He whispered to you in the dark, “I will, mesh’la. I’m going to fuck you and fill you up. Fill you with my semen. You’re going to have my baby.”
You opened your legs wide, feeling the heat ebb from your throbbing cunt. Din shifted against you and you felt his cock press against your seam. He rolled his hips away from you, and in the next moment he was halfway inside, kissing you hard as he moaned into your mouth.
You wrapped your legs around his hips and pulled him into yourself, feeling ravenous and greedy, wanting every inch of him inside of you as soon as you could. You reached up to caress his neck and cup the back of his head. You were surprised to find that his hair was soft, and that it curled down to the nape of his neck. You hadn’t given a thought to his hair, other than to note that his pubic hair and body hair was dark when he undressed. You just hadn’t spared a thought to what the hair under his helmet would look like, or if he even had any at all.
You were instantly curious about the color of Din’s eyes, and whether your children would look more like him, or like you. You smiled into his kisses in the dark, savoring that sweet wonderment as your husband-to-be fucked into you, rolling his hips against yours in the dark and joining the two of you forever.
Din started huffing out words that landed somewhere between devotion and depravity, filled with more emotion than you had heard from him in all of the preceding months.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, mesh’la. I’m gonna fill you up and fuck a warrior into you, fill you with my cum and watch you grow round. You’re going to glow with my baby growing inside of you.”
You moaned and spasmed around his cock, chills of electricity running up and down your spine as he growled out more of his filthy praise.
“You’re going to look so beautiful, cyar'ika, so fucking gorgeous after I fill your hot cunt with my seed. You’re going to take it all and let it fill you- fucking fill you up until you’re bursting… my good girl.”
You felt your climax growing, and you pulled your knees up high so that he could thrust even deeper.
“More, Din-” you huffed out the words as best you could. “Tell me more. Fuck me more.”
He began thrusting harder, stuttering out his words with each plunge of his meaty cock into your wet, hot center.
“You’re- fucking- beautiful. Fucking gorgeous.” He kissed you hurriedly, eager to spill more dirty talk into you. “We’re going to take- take our vows tomorrow- take our time after that- fuck you until you’re dripping with my cum. Fuck a warrior into that ripe womb of yours.”
“Oh fuck, Din. I’m gonna come. Keep going.”
“Touch yourself for me, cyar’ika. Touch that beautiful cunt and make her swallow me whole.”
You cried out at that and then reached down to find your clit, to coax yourself over the edge as Din continued to utter his honeyed filth into your soul.
“You’re going to carry- carry my warriors, mesh’la. Grow round with my baby inside you- spill honey from your breasts for my child.” He groaned and you could tell he was close.
“I’m going to fill your hot cunt with my seed, m- make you froth with my cum, cyar’ika. Everyone will know who you belong to.”
He thrust even harder, ramming his cock into a spot deep inside of you that made your eyes water.
“I’ll protect you both, cyar’ika. Shelter and care for you while you grow our baby inside of you. Fill up this fucking hot cunt- this perfect fucking pussy- over and over again. Protect you for the rest of my life.”
“Fuck, Din, I’m coming!” You felt your whole body thrill with the force of your orgasm, your pelvic muscles squeezing him hard as you threw your head back and moaned.
Din groaned and thrust four, five, six more times until he plunged deep and held still, collapsing down on top of you to bury his face in your neck. You felt him spasm as he lay pressed against you, his hot, sticky cum spilling deep inside. You wrapped your legs back around his hips and held him in, murmuring sweet words into his ear as you stroked his hair.
“My love, I’m going to have all of your babies. I want you inside of me always, Din.” You pressed kisses to his ear as you whispered. “I love you so much. I’ll follow you to the farthest star and back, my love, always.”
Din panted as he came down. You felt him soften inside of you, but he didn’t withdraw. He pulled his head up and kissed you softly.
“Mesh’la, I can’t wait to marry you. My wife… my love.”
---
Din Djarin/Mando character masterlist
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Hi and congratulations for the milestone!! 🎉🎉
I did promise I’d take the wheel for a spin and it must be fate because this came up:
It seems fitting, that man is known for his talents with his mouth, tongue and fingers 🥴🥴
I’ll leave you with a question to go with the result (feel free to ignore if it doesn’t tickle your fancy); how long does he last until Frankie has to have a taste?
Congrats 🎉❤️
Ohhhhh frick, how could I POSSIBLY ignore that question?? Because now my head is simply reeling with HOT THOTS about Frankie Morales, finally eating you out, after you tease him endlessly.
And, of course because this is Frankie, I have to tip my hat to the seminal masterwork of “All Hail the King” by Kat @pilothusband, without which we would not have the headcanon of Frankie Morales as the pussy-eating king, which we all now know as gospel...
Thank you for helping me celebrate! There’s some real hot stuff under the cut, people!
The Game
Word count: 4500
Outline: Frankie Morales x “You” (cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)
Warnings: Mature/Explicit, 18+ only; mature and vulgar language; mentions of making out; teasing Frankie; one mention of oral sex/M receiving; oral sex/F receiving; vaginal fingering; Frankie has a FILTHY praise-kink mouth; Frankie going primal caveman on your pussy when he finally gets there
You’ve been on two previous dates with Frankie, and each one has ended in some truly smashing makeout sessions. The man is an excellent kisser, and it’s been so long since you had that, you’ve gone a little crazy with just kissing on your first two dates.
On your first date he took you out for a drive to the scenic overlook, and after an hour of good conversation, the sun had set low behind the ocean and you made out like teenagers in the cab of his truck for another hour.
Date two was an action movie, and since the theater was practically deserted when you sat down, you got a wicked idea. You tickled your fingers into the curls at the back of his neck and invited him to join you in the back row, and you made out again for all 105 minutes of explosions and punching. Neither one of you remembers the plot.
Tonight is date three, and after an early dinner out, you’ve decided that it’s time to invite Frankie back to your place to see what else he can do with that talented tongue.
You pour him a cold drink and he sits on your couch, but neither one of you really wants to talk. There’s too much electricity in the air. Your head is fuzzy with want. You’ve been able to kiss him plenty, but you haven’t had the chance to do more. And then you get another idea, a leftover ‘game’ from your teenage years, something that was hot back then when you played it with your boyfriends… maybe it still works?
“Do you want to play a game?” You slip your feet out of your sandals and tuck one leg under you to swivel toward him on the couch. You smile at this handsome, sweet man with your most secret smile and bite your lip as he frowns and looks at your bookshelf full of board games.
“You mean like Scrabble?” His confusion is adorable, and you giggle as you move closer to him on the couch, your voice low… “Not like Scrabble.” You flutter your eyelashes up at him and now his frown is gone, replaced by a look of interest.
“What kind of game did you have in mind, pretty girl?” And now he looks very interested, his broad hand coming up to your shoulder to stroke your arm, pulling you closer for a kiss. But you don’t let him pull you in all the way, you stop a few inches from his face and whisper… “A naughty game.”
And now you can see the sheer hunger in his eyes. The way his pupils flare and his deep coffee eyes fix onto your lips. He tries to go in for a kiss and you pull away, just out of reach. You hold up one finger and place it to his lips, stopping him in his tracks.
You smile up at him from under your lashes. “That’s the game.”
“I have to chase you?” He flicks his eyebrows up, not looking impressed.
“No. We try to get as close as we can, but we can’t touch. We tease each other, just to see how long we can hold out.”
He chuckles. “That’s a terrible game.”
“You don’t think anticipation is hot? How about this… what do you want to do to me the most? If you play my game you might get to do it.”
He looks less skeptical now. He glances at your lips, then back to your eyes, before his gaze trails down, down, down your body. You shiver, and from his look alone, you feel hot and cold all at once.
You’re starting to think this might be… well, not “dangerous,” just more of an experience than the last time you played, which was at an age where the absolute wildest possibility was that you would get to feel a boy’s hand on the outside of your bra.
You bite your lip and blink with nervous anticipation, waiting for him to take the bait. He could decide right now not to play and you would still let him ravish you, let him put his mouth and hands and dick wherever he wants. You would welcome it.
He meets your eyes again, and you hold your breath, feeling a heat creep up to your cheeks and down to your cunt at the same time. His whole body is still, except for the rise and fall of his chest, moving breaths slowly in and out, and his big brown eyes that blink occasionally as he considers you with a thoughtful expression.
This is torture, waiting for his answer. You’re about to break first, tell Frankie he doesn’t have to play your silly game, when he moves just his mouth. His bottom lip opens a crack, and his tongue slides out of the corner and sweeps across that plush, velvety top lip, half-hidden under his scruffy mustache.
He moves the tip of his tongue slowly, deliberately, keeping his eyes fixed on your face... watching you watch his mouth. You suddenly realize that this is his opening move, he’s playing your game already, and he’s playing you as well. You set the rules, and he’s already winning.
You release a shaky breath and scoot an inch closer on the couch. You flick the tip of your tongue out, letting it wet your bottom lip. You bring your lower lip in between your teeth and bite down hard, watching Frankie’s eyes drift to your mouth. You release your lip from between your teeth and then exhale a sigh and a breathy moan of, “Hmm…”
You reach your hand up to open the top button of your thin cardigan, the one you like to wear because it’s your color and it’s soft and it fits you like a dream. But it’s also the one that you wear on third dates on purpose, with no blouse underneath it - just a lacy bra and a heart full of hope pounding in your chest.
He watches your fingers with that hungry look resurfacing, the one that made your stomach flip a moment ago. He scoots closer to you, closing the gap until his denim-clad leg is a centimeter from your knee, one arm draped over the back of the couch, thick fingers resting just an inch from your shoulder.
No touching, you had said. Frankie is making it clear to you that he knows the rules and will play them to their limits. He reaches up to the neck of his denim shirt, the top two snaps already open, and then he unsnaps two more. The neck of his shirt falls open, and the amber light from the lamp scatters across the planes of his neck and clavicles. You can’t tear your eyes away from his golden skin, and you feel the emptiness of your pussy as it starts to leak into your panties.
Frankie holds himself still, waiting for your next move. You aren’t sure what to do next, and truthfully your brain went completely blank the moment you caught sight of Frankie’s chest. You decide to raise the stakes. You get up from the couch, moving to stand in front of Frankie where he sits. His deep brown eyes are watching you intently, smoldering as he takes in your form just an arm’s length away. His gaze skates from your face to your breasts to your hips and back up, and you wait until his eyes come to a stop before you make your move.
You reach up to the second button of your cardigan and open it, then the next one. You see Frankie’s eyes go wide, pupils flaring black as he realizes what you’re doing. You fight the giddiness that surges up inside you, forcing your face to remain as neutral as possible. You see Frankie’s cock twitch once in his jeans, and you are delirious with the sudden realization that you’re holding quite a lot of power over this gorgeous man.
Your fingers continue their dance down your buttons until all of them are free, and then you grab the lapels of your cardigan. Frankie’s eyes flick to your hands where they hover at your breasts, and you pause, drawing the moment out for as long as you deem just short of cruel. You open the cardigan and shed it from your shoulders, tossing it on the couch seat you just vacated.
Frankie takes a sharp breath in, and his eyes flutter closed for just a moment. When he opens them again his brown irises are nearly blown black with arousal, and you almost feel bad for escalating the game this far. You take three steps backward toward the hallway, curling your finger to draw Frankie up off the couch. You break the silence with one word, “Bedroom.”
He surges up off the couch so quickly that you think he’s decided to break, to just grab you and pounce on you and end the game. But instead he halts a foot away, and looks deep into your eyes with a smirk. Something like a warning in the back of your brain tickles, uh-oh.
Frankie starts to undress, and as you see more of his golden skin in the low lamplight, you start to think that you might concede first. He sheds his baseball cap, then his shirt, tugging the remaining snaps open with a single pull. You drink in the sight of his naked torso, the soft patches of hair that mimic his delectable facial scruff, the breadth of his wide shoulders, and the curve of his abdomen where it meets his waistband. There’s a faint trail of hair that leads down, and now you’re dying to follow it where it leads.
He toes his work boots off, then opens the fly of his jeans. He pulls them down and off with his socks, and now he’s standing in your living room, clad only in a pair of black boxer-briefs, the soft cotton fabric doing a valiant job of containing his massive erection. You fight the urge to sink down to your knees and rip his underwear off, shove your mouth down onto his cock, see how deep you can take him. You hear yourself shudder as you inhale, nearly a sob, and it echoes in the silence and stillness of the room. Frankie looks pleased with himself, coiled and waiting for your next move. He must know how close you are to breaking.
You take another few steps backwards, keeping your eyes on Frankie as he follows you down the short hallway to your bedroom. You open your jeans as you cross the threshold, pushing them down along with your underwear and kicking them off into a corner. You reach behind you to unclasp your bra, and Frankie pauses to watch you, hands braced on either side of the doorway where he stands, his corded neck and shoulders tensed. You reach up to one shoulder and slowly pull the strap down. Then you do the same to the other strap, moving deliberately, watching Frankie’s ears go slightly pink as he clenches his jaw. You stand with your back to the wall, and you rest your back and shoulders against it, no longer trusting your watery knees to hold you upright. Then you tip your jaw up at Frankie. Your move.
Frankie crosses the room swiftly, long legs eating up the distance between you. He braces each large hand on the wall on either side of your head, then leans in closer, caging you in. His dark eyes fix on yours, and for just a moment you forget how to breathe. His gorgeous hooked nose is just an inch from yours, and if you tilted your head up you could bump noses, engage him in a kiss. But you’re not ready to give in just yet.
You gaze into the liquid cocoa pools, and inhale as silently as you can through your nose, smelling the clean cotton scent of Frankie’s detergent as it mixes with the masculine musk of his deodorant, the expanse of his tawny skin giving off its own salty hints. You feel a sharp twinge between your legs, another clench of your pussy, and now that’s all you can think about. You’re throbbing and wet, hot and getting hotter.
You press your thighs together in a futile attempt to relieve the ache, but it only makes it worse. You exhale and it comes out on the back of a whine, a faint noise that you know Frankie hears, because his expression changes to hunger again, mixed with a secret and knowing smile that tells you that you’re in deep trouble with this man. You have underestimated him, and you’re going to learn that lesson in a very memorable way.
Frankie is sweet and kind, soft-spoken and gentlemanly. You try to think back to what you assumed would happen when you proposed this little game, that maybe he would get a little bit horny, play along with you for a few minutes, and then pretend to give in just to get his arms around you. Instead, you seem to have awakened a strategist, someone who is used to making important calculations toward an end goal. You mistook Frankie’s softness for something it definitely is not, and now you’re regretting having challenged him. He’s not going to go easy on you.
Your stomach does that sick roller-coaster thing that it does sometimes, and you feel your heartbeat kick up a notch as Frankie uses those sharp eyes of his to inspect you. His penetrating stare moves from your eyes to your lips, which part involuntarily, an invitation to kiss you if he dares to give in first. He breathes slowly through his nose as his eyes trail down to your breasts and back up, taking in every inch of your bare skin. You feel like you’re being strangled by his gaze, but it is delicious.
Frankie takes his hands off the wall and then drops slowly to his knees. You look down at him in surprise. He opens his mouth and his voice is low and commanding. “Hands above your head for me, sweetheart.”
You lift your chin level with the floor and lace your fingers over your head, leaning harder into the wall with your shoulders. Your heart thrums in your chest, a steady tattoo that reminds you that you’re alive, but that also makes you feel very close to passing out. You try to remind yourself to breathe, breathe, breathe. You widen your legs just a bit for stability, and you hear Frankie chuckle low in his throat.
He starts talking, and were it not for the wall holding you up, you swear that you would buckle to the ground as he bathes you with his delicious, filthy monologue.
“Did you know,” Frankie intones, his voice raspy with desire, “... that you have the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen?”
You rush an exhale out through your mouth, and suck a great heaving breath back in. He’s only just started, and you’re not at all sure that you’re going to survive this. You dare to tilt your head to look down at Frankie, but his eyes are not on yours, they’re staring intently at your pubic mound. He’s transfixed, the secret smile gone as he stares between your legs.
“In fact, I think that this might be... the most tempting pussy that I’ve ever had the pleasure of looking at. I could just bury my face in her right now.”
You feel like you can’t breathe, and you lace your fingers tighter behind your head as you stare down at Frankie’s soft curls, his nose just inches from your sex, his tongue dripping honey as you feel yourself getting wetter. Frankie continues his dirty talk, spilling the gorgeous, filthy words right into the center of your being.
“I would definitely like to taste her, see how she drips for me when she really gets going. Do you drip or do you squirt, honey?”
You clench your butt muscles and lean your shoulders even harder against the wall, a desperate attempt to stay upright as your knees threaten to give out. An involuntary whine slips out from your lips, and Frankie tilts his head to look up at you, that mischievous smile curving back across his lush lips.
“Would you like that, darlin’? Would you like me to eat you out?”
You bite your lips hard and struggle to stay standing. All you want to do is give in, collapse down onto Frankie and let him have his way with you. You feel another new rush of slickness hit your center and you almost break. Not yet, your brain whispers. Just wait...
Frankie turns his face back to your pelvis and then braces his hands on the wall, so close to your hips that you can feel the warmth emanating off his skin. But again, not touching you, he’s staying within the rules that you set for him. He’s too good at this, and now you know that you’re definitely going to lose.
Frankie slowly leans forward, bending his elbows to move his face closer and closer to your crotch. His nose comes an inch away, then half an inch. For a moment you hope that he will slip and make contact and lose, but he doesn’t. He has excellent muscle control and his arms don't even quiver as he finally stops, hovering just a centimeter in front of your cunt. You are wetter than you ever have been, and you swear that you can feel it leaking down the inside of your leg, trailing down your thigh as Frankie tortures you.
His voice is a whisper now, velvety and soft, and you strain to hear him above the rushing of your own heartbeat in your ears.
“You smell amazing, honey.” He closes his eyes and inhales, taking your scent into himself like you’re the sweetest flower at the farmer’s market.
It hits you suddenly that this is the most debauched, most intimate thing you’ve ever done with a lover. No man has ever dared to just smell you like this, and you feel something twist inside the bowl of your pelvis, like a spring being wound tighter. You realize that you’re not breathing, and you open your mouth into a little o-shape to take a slow, cooling breath into your lungs. You regain your steadiness and settle deeper into yourself to try to hold out, to hang in there just a little longer.
“I bet that you taste like heaven, pretty girl. I can’t wait to fuck you on my tongue, lick you inside and out.”
Frankie leans back and looks up at you with a wink. “After you touch me first and lose, I’m going to lick this pussy so hard that you come six times while you scream my name.”
You gurgle out a surprised, “Oh!”
Frankie sits back on his heels and stands back up, a little triumphant, like he knows how close he pushed you to the edge.
You release your hands and place your palms flat on the wall by your hips, not trusting them to hang loose at your sides, lest they decide to reach out and skim over his broad shoulders of their own accord. You look up at Frankie where he hovers over you, and you lick your lips and whisper to him.
“Frankie, I want you. Please touch me.”
He arches one eyebrow at you. “Does that mean you want the game to end? Are you giving up?”
You close your eyes and shake your head no, and for a moment you’re not sure if you’re even capable of playing the game any longer. Your head is fuzzy and your skin is screaming to be touched. You take a deep breath in and then out, and when you open your eyes Frankie is looking at you with concern.
“Do you give up, sweetheart? Or do you want to keep playing?”
You choke out a strangled whisper, the barest hint of speech. “I want… I want…”
Frankie comes closer, bracing himself on the wall again, big arms boxing you in as he moves into your space. He tilts his head down and murmurs, “Tell me.”
You look up into his eyes and the whole room tilts to the left. All you can see is Frankie, and he’s all that matters while the rest of the world spins dizzy around you. You feel sick with anticipation, and you know that this is your fault, that you were the one who proposed this stupid torturous game in the first place.
You just want it to end, you need it to end now.
“Frankie, I… I want…”
“You want me to eat you out? Stick my tongue inside that gorgeous pussy and fuck you with it until you come? Is that it?”
He leans closer and still doesn’t touch you, just keeps stringing you along with his depraved poetry as he tilts his head to hover an inch from your ear.
“Or maybe you want me to finger-fuck you, too? Stretch you open and see how good it feels? I bet we can make your pussy squirt, make you gush around my hand when I reach deep inside and hit your g-spot. I bet you’ll soak the bed, you sweet thing. Maybe squirt clear across the room.”
“Oh god.” You whine and duck your chin, trying to resist the urge to turn your head toward him and make contact, kiss him and then let him go wild, do all the things he’s been threatening to do.
“Frankie, I…”
“You what, sweetheart?” His tone is just this side of mocking, and it makes your cunt clench.
“I need…”
Frankie pulls his head away from your ear and looks you directly in the eyes.
“Use your words pretty girl.” His voice has an edge now, firm, sounding like a direct order. “Tell me what you need.”
“I- I want, I need… I need you inside of me. I want you everywhere, Frankie.”
“Yeah? You need me, sweet girl? You need Frankie to take care of you?”
Your face crumples, a whine of pure desire making your throat ache. Your pussy drools another bit of slick down your inner thigh. You want to cry, and Frankie frowns at you with genuine concern.
“I can take care of you, sweetheart. Anything you want, you just say the word. But first…” He leans his head down lower, lower, lower and stops, his warm breath fanning over your lips as he whispers.
“... first you have to touch me.”
You moan at that, the unfair knowledge that all you have to do to get everything you want is to give in. And he’s so close, his nose just a centimeter from yours. All you would have to do is lean up, kiss him, and-
Frankie abruptly pushes off the wall and takes two steps back from you. The sudden absence of him makes something in you snap. You rush at him and practically knock him over, kissing him with a snarl and wrapping your arms and legs around him as he laughs in surprise. He braces both big hands under your bottom and half-carries you to your bed.
He plops you down on the bedspread and then leans down over you as you kiss and kiss and kiss him. Now that the dam has broken, you’re not sure you’re ever going to stop, and you don’t give a flying fuck that you just lost at your own game. As far as you’re concerned you won, because you’re naked on your bed with Frankie laying over you, his hard cock pressing against your wet seam through his boxers.
You open your legs wide and wrap them around Frankie’s waist, and he kisses you before pulling back with a gentle shush against your lips.
“Wait wait, pretty girl. We’re not gonna fuck yet. I gotta eat you out first.”
“No Frankie, please. Please just fuck me.” You clutch and grasp at him, trying to pull him into you. He braces himself on his arms and hovers maddeningly over your face as he smiles.
“No, baby. You said if I played your game you would let me do what I wanted. You lost. I win.”
Frankie moves his mouth to your ear and whispers. “I get to eat your pussy until you’re screaming my name.”
You moan, a high-pitched cry of defeat. You want him inside of you now, not a moment longer. You’ve been tortured and taunted long enough, and you haven’t even gotten a glimpse of his cock, other than to see the impressive way that his erection fills out the contours of his boxer-briefs.
Frankie kisses you and tells you to release your legs, and then he stands up and wraps his big hands around your ankles and pulls you to the edge of the bed. He kneels on the floor and looks up to your face with a wicked smile, the look of a man who is about to enjoy his victory over you.
You try to remind yourself that you lost, fair and square, and now your punishment is that you will have to wait to feel Frankie’s huge cock stretching you open. You’re going to have to take your punishment like a good girl.
Frankie pushes your legs up and back toward your chest, and you hook your hands behind your knees to hold them open. He takes the first tentative lick of your clit, and you cry a soft “Oh!” and toss your head back.
Frankie’s fingers stroke your outer labia, top to bottom, and he spreads you open with his fingertips. You feel the cool air hit your slick, and then the hot swipe of his tongue through your folds. This is torture, you think, but only as much as I deserve.
Frankie licks your clit gently before suddenly surging into you tongue-first, going as deep as he can, licking into you deeply. He curls his tongue up as he withdraws, and he hits the bundle of nerves on the underside of your clit. He does it again and again and again, and before you can warn him that you’re about to come, you’re shuddering and breaking apart in his mouth.
Frankie eases two big fingers into you and you’re grateful for the thickness of them, giving your muscles something to clench and squeeze around while Frankie softly licks your clit, working you through your climax. When you finally relax your legs, he sucks your clit into his mouth and then releases you with a smack of his lips.
“That’s one, pretty girl, but I didn’t hear you scream my name. We’ll see if you can do that with any of the other five.”
Frankie dives back into you face-first, and fulfills all of his threats from the game.
---
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Tell me about Reader who’s only dated assholes (arrogant tech bros, flaky politicians, unfaithful artists, ghosting athletes, etc…) from different walks of life until she meets Frankie 👀 maybe pure FILTH ensues after a while, maybe… 👀 like. Pure fucking nasty filth. Also, beaches. 😊 maybe not at the same time tho sounds painful tbh
Ok this may have ended up softer than "filthy" but not by much!! Hope you enjoy Frankie and his magic hands, dude.
Those Hands
Word count: 1200+
Rating: explicit, 18+ only
Outline: Frankie Morales x “You” (cis/het female reader, “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)
Warnings: coffee shop meet-cute; beach vacation; oral sex/F receiving; vaginal fingering; P/V sex; shower scene; mentions of food and alcohol
It was the hands you noticed first. Work-worn and calloused, but somehow also soft-looking. Big hands, nice hands, they held the door of the coffee shop open for you to enter as he left, and you almost tripped over the threshold with how distracted you were. You didn’t know you could be attracted to hands until you saw his, but somehow they were different from the soft, manicured hands of all the men you had dated before. Guys who only worked at keyboards in nice offices, who played golf or maybe drew sketches for upscale galleries, guys who didn’t mow their own lawns. Guys who got bored and left you after five days or seven weeks or four months. You hoped you would see him again.
And a week later you did, and then a few days after that, and then again the next day. And then one day you timed it just right, or he did, and you actually ended up in line together. And when you both picked up your orders, you ended up sort of fighting to give the other person the last open seats, a little two-top table, until you both just laughed and decided to sit with a stranger. Well, a nice stranger anyway. And there’s no way to sit at a tiny 2-person table like that without talking, and so it was very nice to find out that the pair of nice hands belonged to a nice man who finally gave you his name, and by the end of the conversation, his number. And so that’s how you ended up with ‘Frankie Morales’ listed in your phone and a date for the following Saturday.
And oh, wow, what those hands could do. Over the next few weeks you found out how warm they felt holding your hand, how well they fit around the side of your hip as you walked, how good they felt cupping your jaw for a kiss, and how thick they were when he slid them inside of you while he worked magic with his talented tongue.
Weeks turned into months turned into a year, and then suddenly there was an anniversary weekend to plan and a beach vacation to arrange, and you found yourself laying on a white sand beach holding one of those big hands in yours as you napped under an umbrella. You were just drifting off when Frankie’s big hand gave yours a squeeze. You cracked your eyes to watch him walk away, because you never got tired of that particular view, the broad shoulders and the golden skin and the easy confidence he carried himself with. Your Frankie.
And then he came back and offered you a cold drink and you sat up and brushed his fingers with yours as you took the cup and smiled at him over your sunglasses. And when he smiled back little stars burst behind your navel, better than butterflies because the starbursts were backed up by 365 days of knowing what those hands and lips and body could do, to you and with you and for you.
And the afternoon passed in lazy naps on the beach blanket interspersed with squealing moments in the water, Frankie splashing you or carrying you piggyback into the waves. And one big wave knocking your sunglasses loose into the water, lost forever until Frankie gives you his to wear, and tells you how cute you look with his big aviators on. And then the sun sets and it’s time to go wash up, have a romantic dinner, take a bottle of wine back to your beach view room. And when it’s dark you turn off all the lights and let the moon stream in through your open balcony door.
Frankie takes his time with you that first night, working you open with his lovely soft lips and tongue, licking and swirling you up into knots of desire until his fingers push you over the edge and you burst into pieces, moaning wordless sounds into the salt-scented night air that’s rolling through the room. And then he does it again, one more time just to feel you squeeze his fingers hard before he strokes himself and slides into you with hardly any friction at all. You cling to him with your arms and legs wrapped as tight as you can until he chases his own high and pins it down inside of you, thrusting into you and releasing his own deep groans, then making you sigh with contentment as he tucks you under his big arm to sleep.
The second day passes in a blur of laughter and a boat trip, sightseeing and catching a few precious glimpses of dolphins, and then more beach time and dinner. And another long night of lovemaking in your room, but this time with Frankie taking you on your hands and knees, feeling him pound deep inside of you, hitting that ticklish spot over and over as you gaze out the balcony door over the moonlit ocean. And then again at 1:00 a.m. when you wake up and feel Frankie’s cock hard against you as you snuggle, and you shift your hips back into him, and bump him playfully until he wakes up. And then you straddle him and he cups your breasts with those big hands as you grind against him and make him moan in the near dark.
And you wake up the next morning and he’s absent from the bed, but you hear him in the shower and you sneak in to join him. And Frankie puts those hands to good use one more time, scrubbing your back and rubbing suds all over you, tip to toe, and then rinsing you off before he makes you come on his fingers. He wraps you tight with your back to his broad chest, one big hand under your ribs and the other rubbing tight circles into your clit and dipping up inside of you by turns until you collapse and shatter for him and then come back to yourself. And then you kiss him and tell him you love him and he says it back, and you know he means it.
And you wonder how you did this before, without Frankie. How you put up with the arrogance and the dullness of the disinterested men that you dated. How you ever believed that they were worth your time. Because now you see it, the way that Frankie uses his hands and his whole heart to love you. How he listens to you and sees you, how you won’t ever be alone as long as he’s there.
And you dress and go down to breakfast and intertwine your fingers with his beside your orange juice, and you lift his hand to yours and kiss his magic fingers one by one. And he just looks at you, glowing at you like you’re the sweetest thing he’ll ever see. And then he tells you how soft your lips are, and how much he’s looking forward to tonight. And you tuck into your breakfast and you swear nothing has ever tasted this good in your life, because you’re finally with the right person, and that makes all the difference in the world.
---
Frankie "Catfish" Morales character masterlist
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The only tag list I have for fics: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme @eri16 @mandocrasis @pilothusband @bastillealmighty @eri16 @jitterbugs927 @babiiface95 because Frankie!!
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