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ariundercovers · 14 days

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Gosh I loved everything about this, truly

one of your girls (frankie morales x triple frontier boys) 18+

a/n it's @swiftiscruff friendship exchange time!!! i'm so beyond excited to share this piece i've been working on, dedicated to my incredible friend han @swiftispunk 🌙 we brainstormed the idea for this fic months ago and it's finally somehow become something tangible - but han, if i've learned anything from writing this fic, it's how much i depend on you when it comes to so many aspects of my writing. whether it be workshopping ideas, input on characterization & dialogue, sharing snippets, etc, you are always there to lend a hand, listen, and advise. not having that this time around (because this fic has been a secret ofc!) just further proved to me what an incredibly patient, giving, caring, kind, & beautiful friend you are. i love you so much & i'm so grateful you slid in my dms one whole year ago today 💕 summary: unpacking some of frankie's old things leads to a revelation about his past. (OR to put it simply: frankie morales x triple frontier boys circle jerk 🙌) rating: 18+ explicit warnings: circle jerk (frankie/benny/santiago/will), sub!frankie, bukkake, facials, cumplay, cum swallowing, frankie is literally a cum dumpster (and loves it), praise kink galore, pet names (good boy, baby boy), dirty talk, oral (m receiving), deepthroating, cock worship, use of restraints, sexy photographs, sharing, mentions of frankie x all the boys individually (this includes tom but he's not involved in the circle jerk - sorry tom), brief mentions of anal sex (m/m), for story purposes you are frankie's current gf but it's not really the main focus...for now anyway, all of this takes place before the events of triple frontier word count: 12.2k ao3 dividers by @saradika-graphics 💙

You've been moving boxes for what feels like forever, arms aching and the sun beating hot against the back of your neck as you swipe sweat from your brow and head back into the aging, disintegrating storage unit. When Frankie had first told you about it you'd been adamant that he move his old things - locked away for almost ten years now - out of the unit and into the new house. "We don't need to be paying for storage when we have a garage", you'd said confidently, "we have a house now, Frankie. What's yours is mine."

If only you'd believed him when he'd told you it wouldn't be that easy.

"I told y-" he begins for the fourth time as you lean down to grab another box, but you snap up immediately with a finger to your lips. "Why don't I just do the rest from here?" He offers fruitlessly, "You take a break, relax in the truck for a little while."

You're already shaking your head before he's finished talking, resuming your retrieval of the large box at your feet, "No, Frankie. We do this together."

You don't have to look at him to know that he's rolling his eyes. All the same, you hear him clamoring after you with another box as he follows you from the unit and back to the truck. The sun hangs high overhead and you squint uncomfortably against it, piling the box alongside the others in the truck bed. Frankie does the same.

"I mean, what's even in all of these?" you ask exasperatedly, shoving one of the many boxes with your hand and leaning backwards against the truck, "How did you accumulate this much shit in the military? I thought minimalism was all the rage over there."

"I told you, it's not just mine," he reaches forward to brush some sweaty tendrils of hair out of your eyes, "It's the whole team's shit. Well, mostly Ben and Pope's, the others were uh-" he winches, "a little more organized, I guess."

"You guess?" you push up on your hands and seat yourself precariously on the edge of the truck bed, catching your breath. Frankie watches as you tear open the nearest box, biting down on his lip to stifle a laugh when he sees your eyes widen at what's inside.

"Paperwork?" you breathe, mouth agape, "Paperwork? That's what in all these? Fucking forms?"

"Something they don't tell you when you first join," he shrugs, "But no, that's not all that's in these. There's souvenirs, journals, photos, mission plans-" he cuts himself off and stops speaking altogether, lips clamping shut. Your brow furrows as you watch him assess the open box beside you, then the others strewn haphazardly here and there inside the truck bed, as if he's only just realized something he hadn't considered before.

"What?"

He seems to shake himself from whatever stopped him, eyes still settled on the open box as he murmurs, "Um, maybe don't open any more right now."

You raise an eyebrow, "Why not?"

"Just, uh... don't."

"Well that's not ominous in the slightest."

He laughs but something about it seems off, almost forced as he reaches forward with both hands to help you down from the truck. You follow his lead, peering up at him curiously and hoping maybe he'll elaborate, explain, but instead he turns on the spot and heads back toward the storage unit, pulling you along in tow.

You decide not to press him about it for the time being. Right now, all you can think about is finishing hauling these ridiculous boxes and devouring an iced coffee on the way home.

A week passes before you even think about the boxes again.

By that time they've been taking up residence in the garage, haphazardly placed along the concrete in unorganized disarray, exactly where you'd both left them the day you unloaded the unit. You'd been too exhausted to start unpacking and had instead collapsed on the couch, laying there with aching limbs as Frankie discarded your empty iced coffee and poured you a tall glass of water.

"Your job is done now, querida," he'd murmured softly, stroking your cheek, "I'll do the rest."

Except he hadn't. He'd pulled your feet into his lap and settled comfortably beside you on the couch, just for a moment - and then it was lights out for the both of you, boxes be damned.

Now you find yourself the following Saturday perched precariously atop your counter, fingers smeared a soft fern green as you paint the walls of your new kitchen. You only moved into this house a month ago - your first real house together; shared, owned, all that jazz. Most of that time has already been entirely dedicated to making it your own space; unpacking, decorating, furnishing, rearranging - you've been more than busy with curating this new step in both your lives.

Which is why it's not surprising that you forget about the storage unit boxes and their scatteredness in the garage, too distracted by your current ongoing tasks. You hum along to the radio as you carefully attend to the smallest crevices and spaces between the cupboards, above the stove, under the window sill. You need it to be perfect, have gone far too long living in a less than adequate apartment without much creative freedom for this house to suffer the same fate.

Of course, just as you acknowledge the desire for perfection, your hand slips. A splash of green suddenly paints the pure white window sill and your heart sinks.

"Frankie!" you call out with a groan, reaching forward to wipe the mess away and only making it worse, "Where's the white paint?"

"Should be in the garage, I think," you hear him call back from the living room, busy with his own task of painting the walls a deep maroon, "Need me to get it for you?"

"No, I got it," you slide off the counter, careful to avoid the can of green paint at your feet as you make your way to the garage. It's only when you pass the threshold off the laundry room that you finally remember the forgotten boxes, faced with them for the first time since you dropped them off.

"Dammit, Francisco," you mutter, "You said you'd take care of it."

You can't really blame him though. It really is an undertaking; you'd known that from the moment he told you about the unit to begin with. He'd wanted to keep them there, would rather continue paying the monthly fee than deal with the enormous amount of unpacking he'd have to do, but you'd pushed. Now, as you grimace at the pile of heavy boxes, you wonder if maybe he'd been right.

For now, you turn your attention to the task at hand - finding white paint. You scan the storage shelves along the walls and spot the can you're looking for on a high shelf, out of reach.

Maybe those boxes can serve a purpose today.

You shove one toward the shelf and heave another one on top, making quick work of it despite the effort. Climbing onto your makeshift stepladder, you reach for the white paint and successfully pull it to your chest, but the added weight causes your feet to dig into the box below, exposing its contents as you carefully pull yourself back down. Your eyes can't help but dart to the crushed opening, spotting what looks like a photo album peeking through.

Setting the paint down, you lower yourself onto the concrete and cross your legs, biting your lip and reaching inside the box to grab the album. It's navy blue, relatively small, lightweight. A little skim couldn't hurt.

As soon as you open the photo album you can't help but smile, met immediately with a photo of Frankie and Santiago with their arms around each other - fifteen years younger. Their eyes are alight with excitement, Frankie's cap askew and Santi's expression caught in a permanent laugh. Before, you think to yourself, this was before shit got real. You flip the page and smile wider when you see a photo of Benny and Will, caught in what must be a playful brawl with Benny's hand grabbing at Will's leg as he tries to get away. Will is grinning from ear to ear, a genuine smile you've only seen a handful of times. Yep, definitely before.

You flip through the rest of the photos with a heaviness in your heart you can't describe. You've known these boys for a handful of years, have only heard fragments of the shit they've been through together, but you know it wasn't easy, know it affected them in ways you'll never even begin to understand. Being able to see them before all that, before they became hardened and molded by pain and trauma, you can't deny the emotions that bubble in your throat.

The last page contains a group photo; Frankie is in the center, surrounded by his friends on all sides, Will and Benny turned towards him with a fond smile and a grin, Santiago with an arm around him again and his head tilted to brush against Frankie's cap, and Tom on the edge - looking a little out of place, you must admit. But then, you suppose, things haven't really changed.

You're about to close the album and return to your painting when you notice a little pocket built into the backing, hidden out of sight with a hint of white poking through. Not wanting to miss out on another good photo, you slip your finger inside and happily tug out what looks to be a polaroid, different than the others. Curiously, you flip it over.

And immediately drop it to the floor.

Suddenly you can hear Frankie's words from last week, thrumming in your mind on repeat: "Um, maybe don't open any more right now."

You hadn't understood. But now you think you do.

With slightly shaky fingers you reach down and pick up the polaroid, taking a breath before slowly flipping it over again. Lips parted, eyes wide, heart pounding, you peer down at the little photograph and try to understand what you're seeing.

A much younger Frankie - naked, save for the cap on his head and the pants around his ankles. On his knees, peering up at the camera with hooded eyes and a fucked-out expression you've become more than familiar with at this point in your relationship. But that's not what made you drop the photo, no.

His face is covered in cum. You know that's what it is, know there's nothing else it could possibly be. Thick trails of it paint his face like abstract art, dripping down his forehead and the bridge of his nose, his cheeks, his lips, his chin. It's all over him, smeared along his neck and chest bloomed red with heat and arousal. His cap is askew, cheeks flushed, and - most notable of all - he's smiling. Looking up at the camera, drenched in cum, smiling.

Frankie is bisexual; you've known this since your first date, remember how shy he'd been as he'd softly murmured, "Just so you know, I like girls and guys." It hadn't bothered you at all to know that he'd been with men in the past - in fact, you'd kind of liked that about him.

So this - this doesn't bother you. You're not bothered. You're... you don't know what you are, can't seem to pinpoint exactly how you're feeling right now as peer down at the polaroid that you were probably never supposed to find. You're not bothered, you're just... surprised. And confused. What is this doing here? Why is it hidden in an album of Frankie and his friends?

....Oh.

"Find it?" you suddenly hear Frankie call from the living room, and your stomach drops. You hastily stand and slip the polaroid into your back pocket, then close the album and toss it back into the box.

"Y-yeah," you call back, "I got it!"

You try not to mention it. Try, being the operative word.

But it's all you can think about. It's all you see when you reunite with Frankie in the kitchen later that afternoon, staring at the flecks of maroon paint scattered across his face and being unable to not see smears of splattered white. It's all you see that evening as you dig into your leftover Chinese food, eyes constantly flickering across the table to watch Frankie bite and chew, lips soft and wet and definitely not leaking cum at the corners.

It's all you see that night when you settle in bed and watch as he comes out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, water dripping down his neck and chest not unlike the thick drops of release in the photo. You watch with hooded eyes, lips parted, heart thrumming, as he tugs the towel off and walks to the dresser with his pert ass on full display. You can't help but wonder if there'd been cum there too, leaking and dripping, hidden away because of the angle of the photo.

"I can feel you staring at me," he suddenly says with a chuckle, "Why don't you take a picture? It'll last longer." He says it in jest but you feel your face bloom with heat, immediately averting your eyes and burying yourself beneath the sheets.

"I was not," you lie, "Get over yourself."

He laughs again and you hear him shut the dresser, probably tugging on a pair of briefs, "You've been looking at me weird all day, it's kind of freaking me out."

You want to point out that "all day" is an exaggeration, but then you'd have to admit that you have been looking at him strangely for at least a portion of it, and you really don't want to do that. Instead, you reach over and turn off the lamp on your bedside table, then nuzzle into your pillow and close your eyes, ignoring him.

"Is something wrong, baby?" you hear him ask, humor slowly dissipating from his voice, "You need to talk about anything?"

"No," you lie, your own voice betraying you immediately, "I'm fine."

You feel the bed dip beside you, feel the warmth of his palm come down to gently caress your upper arm, "You sure? Did I do something to upset you?" You can practically hear him wince as soon as he says the words, "I know, I should already know if I did. But today's been busy and-"

"You didn't do anything, Frankie," you tell him softly, "I promise."

"Then what is it?" you can hear the concern, the gentle worry as he strokes your arm up and down, "Talk to me." He sounds so kind, so tender, as always. It's so damn hard to keep anything from him. You sigh.

"I feel..." you grimace, eyes still closed, "I just feel..."

He waits for you to continue, in the meantime settling into bed beside you and tugging the sheets up over himself. You feel his warmth against your body and it immediately fills you with a sense of calm, comfort. Your heart slows a bit, breaths coming a little easier as he brings his arm down to wrap around you and pull you in close.

"How do you feel, querida?" he murmurs, "Tell me."

"Guilty," you finally breathe, and you're surprised to feel tears pricking in your eyes, "I feel guilty."

You can hear the confusion in his voice, "For what?"

"I...I saw something I shouldn't have," you admit quietly, "In one of your boxes. Something really private that you probably never ever wanted me to see and I'm so sorry." You feel his arm freeze at your side and you take a shaky breath, "And now I can't stop thinking about it even though it's absolutely none of my damn business. And I wanna ask you about it but I really have no right to, not when I wasn't even supposed to know about it in the first place, and-"

"Mierda," he groans - shit.

"I'm so sorry, Frankie" you whisper pathetically, still facing away from him, "It's all my fault and if you need me to just forget about it, I will. I promise that I will."

"Fuck," he murmurs, "No no, baby, it's not your fault, it's mine. I should have unpacked all of it myself. I knew there was shit in there you might not wanna see."

"Y-you're not mad at me?"

He buries his face in your hair, nose nuzzling against your neck, "Of course I'm not mad at you - could never be mad at you for that. What's mine is yours, remember?"

You pull away to turn and face him, expression pensive. He's looking at you with earnest eyes, no anger or betrayal to be seen, and it almost makes it worse. Because does he know? Does he realize what exactly it is that you found?

"You have um..." you bite your lip, "You have pictures, in a photo album."

He stares at you, brow furrowing. "What?"

Fuck.

"There was... there was a photo album in one of the boxes. And I figured I'd just flip through it, just to have a look at you when you were younger, you know? Thought it'd be nice, that there might be something we could frame for the house."

He's looking at you like you're speaking another language, confusion lining his features, "....So?"

"So... so I found..." you wince, the image flashing behind your lids again as you try to figure out how to word it, "I found a picture that I don't think you would have wanted me to see."

He's still staring at you, the cogs turning in his head but seemingly no closer to an answer. You picture him flipping through an invisible rolodex, trying to pinpoint exactly what picture you could be talking about. You're starting to realize that maybe when he'd told you to stop looking in the boxes he'd been talking about something else.

"Honestly baby, I thought you meant you looked at some of my paperwork," he admits. Bingo. "Saw some stuff we did for a mission or something. There's plans in those boxes, strategy stuff, and you know how intense some of those were, some of the..." he takes a beat, biting his lip, "some of the things we had to do."

You shake your head quickly, "It wasn't anything like that. It wasn't...it wasn't something serious, really. It was..." you take a deep breath, still unable to say the words. Instead, you reach over into your nightstand and grab the polaroid, sitting up in bed and waiting for him to join you.

"What is it?" he asks, gentle and kind as he sits up beside you, "You can tell me, baby. We can talk about it."

Your heart races but you figure there's no going back from it now, and you're not sure you'd want to keep it from him anyway. Up until this point you and Frankie have always made communication an important part of your relationship. It's been necessary considering what he's been through, what he still deals with, and it's something that you're proud of. You're just gonna have to grin and bear it.

With a sigh, you shakily hand him the polaroid.

He flips it.

And drops it.

"Oh," he gasps, hand coming up to cover his mouth, "Oh, fuck."

"It's not- I'm not-" you stutter, fumbling over your words, "It's not a big deal, really. Like, it's whatever. I know you're bi, I know you've probably sucked your fair share of dicks-"

"Oh god," Frankie moans, his hands coming up to cover his eyes, "Oh my god."

"Hey, hey, no," you reach up and try to pull his hands away from his face, desperation in your voice, "Do not hide from me, you did nothing wrong. You hear me? There's nothing wrong with this." He groans again, shaking his head, but you just keep on talking, "I'm not mad about it or anything, it'd be pretty fucked up for me to mad about it actually. I'm just- hey," you continue to pry at his fingers, "Francisco, look at me."

Slowly, hesitantly, he finally removes his hands from his eyes to peer at you. You can see the embarrassment there, the humiliation - and not the good kind, not the kind he likes.

"Hey," you whisper, "You don't have to talk about this. We can pretend I never even saw it if that's what you want," you bring his hands down and hold them tightly, squeeze them in your own, "I just... I just wanted you to know that I saw it. And that I was just a little curious about why it was in an album from your military days. That's it. That's all."

His eyes fall back to the flipped polaroid on the bed, the back of it facing the both of you. You watch as he slowly reaches forward to pick it up again with his index and middle finger, pulls it upwards and turns it around to see it again.

Out of respect for him, you don't look at it. You just watch his face, his expression. He looks.... thoughtful.

"Talk to me," you whisper, voice breaking, "Please."

He looks from the polaroid to you, then back to the polaroid. After taking a steadying breath, he places it back down onto the bed between the two of you, face up. Your eyes spot his cum-covered face again, frozen forever in time, and you quickly avert your gaze.

He notices, and gives you a small half smile. You return it tenfold.

"Well, it.." he starts, taking another breath, "It was just something that.. we just started-" he cuts himself off, smile turning to a frown as he formulates his words. "It started..."

"Hey," you breathe, reaching down to squeeze his hands again, "Take your time."

It started as a way to blow off steam - that's it. Simple, easy.

They'd all gotten to know one another during training, spent time shooting the shit and building friendships with each other. There had been such a sense of belonging, of fortified brotherhood, a pull toward one another that none of them could deny. So it was unsurprising when their teamwork and comradery resulted in their placement into a special task force, just the five of them against the world - or, rather, the enemy.

But it was stressful. Going from basic military training to special ops added a new layer of pressure and competence that they hadn't experienced before, and it was no walk in the park. Things got harder, more pressing, more important. And all they had, like always, was each other.

So it made sense one night, for Frankie anyway, to offer Santiago a blowjob.

He'd heard the stiff grunts from the bed beside him, the dry - too dry - slap of skin as Santi worked at himself beneath the thin sheet of his bunk. It wasn't abnormal for Frankie to overhear one of his buddies masturbating; in fact it would have been abnormal to not hear it. He'd gotten used to the different sounds they'd each make as they gripped their cocks, hidden away in the dark, and pumped themselves to completion. He had memorized the sounds of their breathing, the grunts and the whines, the soft moans of their orgasms.

But it was never something that was discussed. It was an unspoken rule, almost: what happens in the bunks stays in the bunks. So Frankie had never even considered crossing that line, especially because he was pretty sure he was the only one in the group who liked dudes - something everyone was only vaguely aware of.

There was something about the desperation in Santi's movements that night, in the sweat on his brow and the pained expression on his face. He'd gotten reprimanded earlier that day for failing a training mission, been yelled at by two commanding officers while the rest of the boys looked on with regret in their hearts. If one of them failed, they all felt as if they'd failed too. Santi hadn't spoken to anyone for the rest of the day, had eaten in silence and then retired to his bunk much too early. And now, hours later here he was, hand around his cock, trying to forget.

And Frankie wanted to help.

"Pope," he'd whispered under his breath, just loud enough for Santiago to hear. Santi had turned his head slightly, eyebrows raising when he realized he'd been caught in the act. He'd been about to say something, defend himself maybe, but Frankie had shook his head and continued, "Need some help?"

A look of confusion. "Help?"

Frankie's eyes had wandered to the shape of Santi's lower half beneath the sheet, then back up to meet his gaze.

"Yeah," he'd murmured earnestly, "Help."

Santi had stared at him for a few seconds, brow furrowed, chest heaving. His hand was frozen under the sheet, gripping firmly to his hard cock as he'd considered Frankie's offer. Someone else might have hurled hurtful words, another might have ignored him completely.

But Santi took a deep breath and leaned back, closed his eyes and breathed, "Go ahead."

Frankie had been under the sheet in minutes.

Tucked away, hidden in case any of the other guys woke up, Frankie sucked slowly on his friend's cock. He wasn't sure how much Santi wanted to see of him, figured maybe he'd have his eyes closed as he pictured someone else, maybe that girl he liked from back home, but it didn't matter to Frankie - what mattered most was helping his friend forget about the shitty day he'd had. He treated Santi's cock like something to be worshipped, swallowing and licking around the big shape of him, warm and thick in his mouth. And when Santi came, it was only moments after Frankie had started.

His hands came down to grip Frankie's curls, tugging and pulling as he'd groaned and spilled down his friend's throat. And Frankie had swallowed every drop.

"Francisco," Santi had murmured when Frankie pulled off his cock with a pop, a drop of cum leaking from the corner of his mouth as he peered up at Santi from beneath the sheet, "You've been holding out on me."

With a smile, Frankie had licked the cum away and placed a gentle, reverent kiss to the wet head of Santi's cock. Santi had watched with hooded eyes, let Frankie kiss him there a few more times, let him trail his nose along his thick shaft and inhale deeply at the base. Hands still carding through his hair, Santi had let him mouth at his cock for a few more minutes before softly telling him he should get back in his bunk.

"Just trying to savor it," Frankie had whispered, voice a little sad, a little broken.

"You'll do it again," Santi had replied, reveling in the way Frankie's eyes widened, a smile lighting up his face.

And he did do it again - the following night. He'd been a little hesitant, unsure if Santiago had really meant what he said. But after the others had fallen asleep and Frankie was still just lying there, waiting, he'd heard a soft pssst sound. He'd looked over to see Santi sitting up in bed with a smirk on his face and one hand already beneath the sheet, tugging at his dick.

He stuffed his mouth with Santi's cock every night that week. It was almost feral the way he drank him down, eyes rolling as his lips kissed Santi's pubic hair and his tongue laved the shaft of his cock up and down, up and down. Drool cascaded from his lips all over his friend's belly, and he whined softly over and over whenever his curls were tugged, his temples stroked. Santi would talk to him softly, murmur the quietest little praises that made Frankie insane with need. That's it, there you go. You take what you need, Francisco. And then he'd come down his throat, fill his stomach with it, and whisper, "Good boy."

It was filthy, but it wasn't wrong. Not one part of it felt wrong. And Santiago never once made him feel like it was a shameful secret they were keeping, like the others finding out would be the end of the world. And it's good that he'd maintained that stance, because soon enough, Benny was in on it too. They should have seen it coming, considering his bunk was directly above Santi's.

"Can you give me one, maybe?" he'd asked Frankie awkwardly one night, voice quiet and slightly nervous as he leaned over the bars of the bunk bed, "I've been... I've been listening to it every night and it's driving me fuckin' crazy that I don't know what it feels like."

"Are you saying you've never had a blowjob, Ben?"

Benny had rolled his eyes, "Of course I've had a fuckin' blowjob, idiot. I've just never had a... a you know..." he'd shrugged, "A Frankie blowjob."

"It's good," Santi had said nonchalantly, tugging off his shirt and climbing into his bunk, "He's fucking incredible, actually."

Frankie had preened at the praise, cheeks reddening. An hour later he'd climbed up into Benny's bunk and deepthroated his cock for a solid fifteen minutes. Benny was breathless, chest blooming with heat as he watched Frankie suck and drool, gagging every so often but immediately resuming his sloppy ministrations as soon as he'd caught his breath.

"Look at that," Benny had marveled softly, "Look at that."

"I told you," they'd both heard Santi whisper from below, "He's a fucking godsend."

"I'm gonna cum down your fuckin' throat, Frankie," Benny had groaned, and no sooner were the words out that he was following through, spurting slow and steady into Frankie's mouth. He gripped the back of his head, watched Frankie swallow, and then whispered, "Good boy". Oh, he really had been listening.

Sated and warm with wet and sticky briefs, Frankie had climbed back into bed with a new appreciation for Benny.

As if two wasn't enough, Will got involved shortly after that. Of course Benny had unsurprisingly spilled the beans to his brother, which lead to Frankie climbing atop his own bunk one night to join Will, who'd been a bit unsure. It was as if he thought a prank was being pulled on him, like it was all bullshit, but he didn't say no.

"Been wonderin' what you three were gettin' up to," he'd muttered, watching Frankie a bit dubiously, brow furrowed, arms crossed, "Ben says you're, uh... good."

"I'm good," Frankie had promised softly, bringing his hands down to tug at Will's boxers, "Promise."

Will had watched as Frankie brought his already hardening cock out of his underwear, kissed the tip gently and then brought it into his mouth. "Oh fuck," he'd heard Will gasp out, immediately reaching up to cup the back of Frankie's head. And then there were three.

But three stayed three. Tom did find out about it, considering every single night somebody seemed to be getting their dick sucked. Any discreetness had gone out the window, especially when two of them would jack themselves off to the sounds of Frankie slurping and sucking, groans and the heavy slap of skin echoing throughout the large room. But despite the knowledge of what his friends were doing, the leader of the group was seemingly disinterested in having a go with Frankie.

There was one disastrous evening wherein the others managed to convince Tom to give it a shot. But Frankie bobbed on his cock for a solid five minutes before realizing he just wasn't getting him hard, and Tom had pushed him away and turned in bed with a low sigh.

"It's just not for me, Fish," he'd muttered, "Pretend it never happened."

"He doesn't know what he's missing," Santi had murmured ten minutes later as he watched Frankie suckle on the leaking tip of his cock, "Huh, Francisco? Doesn't know you've got the mouth of an angel, huh?"

Frankie had continued to suck, eyes closed, breathing deeply in and out as Santi stroked his hair.

Things were easier for a while after that. The training was strenuous, oftentimes near impossible, but there was always pleasure at the end of it, always something to look forward to. Every night Frankie would take up residence in someone's bunk, usually after a quick game of rock paper scissors or a straw draw. Each of his friends were different in their own way, and Frankie took a lot of joy in being able to have those moments with them, be what they needed. It felt like he was floating, dreaming; he'd never realized how badly he wanted to be submissive like this until it actually happened. Being their shared prize, their plaything, it was fucking incredible.

Sometimes he'd have all three in one night. He'd deepthroat Benny's cock and swallow him down, then stagger to Will's bunk and do the same. With his own erection aching in his underwear he'd finally crawl in with Santi and allow his closest friend to pull down his briefs and notch the head of his cock into his ass. Santi was the only one who fucked him, the only one who held him close afterwards and sometimes fell asleep with him.

"You my good boy, Francisco?" he'd murmur in Frankie's ear as he fucked him slow and deep, fingers digging into his hips beneath the sheets, "You like feelin' that cock in your ass?"

And god, did he ever.

The first real mission was brutal.

It was tame compared to the things they'd eventually do, but for what it was, they were stressed out of their minds. They spent weeks planning, training, preparing. They'd find themselves so tired at the end of the day that their nighttime habits became a thing of the past, if not something that only happened once in a blue moon. And in its own way the lack of it had begun to affect everything else, their comradery, their abilities, their drive. The day before the mission was set to begin, Benny stood up at dinner and proclaimed, "We've gotta get our shit together."

"Sit down, our shit is together," Tom grumbled, "We're gonna be fine."

"We are not gonna be fine," Benny argued, expression genuinely fearful, "We're gonna fail the whole fuckin' thing and then we're out on our asses."

"There's truth to that, you know there is," Will pointed out as he pulled Benny back down, "There's somethin' missing here. We're not on our A game."

"What, 'cause Morales isn't getting sucked and fucked?"

Frankie's head had gone up, ears tinging pink as he looked over at Tom along with everybody else. There had been a beat of silence, and then-

"Nobody said that," Santi had stated calmly, "And don't be a dick."

"I'm not being a dick. It's fine what you all get up to in your own time, whatever. But it's not the be-all and end-all of our fucking team," he'd shrugged and looked at Santi with a frown, "I mean, come on, Pope. We're prepared, with or without the extracurriculars."

"We are," Santiago had agreed with a nod, turning to Benny, "It's gonna be fine, man. The nerves are just kicking in now but that's normal. We've trained for this, we're ready."

But Frankie could tell he wasn't being entirely truthful.

That night, despite the tiredness of the last day of training and the anxiety of what was to come - Frankie found a solution. He told Santi first, whispered it to him in his bunk and grinned at the expression on his friend's face, awestruck and aroused all at once.

"You're sure?" Santi asked him quietly.

"I'm sure. I think it'll help us de-stress."

Santi had leaned forward and tilted Frankie's cap up, pressed a firm kiss to his forehead and murmured, "Me sigues sorprendiendo, Francisco." You continue to surprise me.

A moment later he was climbing the ladder of Santi's bunk, coming face to face with Benny. "You wanna do something kinky?"

The younger man's eyebrow raised, "Kinkier than usual?"

"A blowjob is not kinky, Ben."

"Getting one from a guy is."

Frankie rolled his eyes and went to pull himself back down the ladder but Benny stopped him, reaching out to touch his wrist.

"What'd you have in mind?"

And that's how he'd ended up on his knees.

Will and Benny stood on either side of Santiago, all three men looking down at their submissive friend with unbridled arousal in their expressions, dark and anticipatory. There was silence at first, not necessarily awkward but full of a definite tension that was more than palpable.

Until-

"Tie him up," Santi murmured to Benny. Frankie's eyes went hooded almost immediately, lips parting as he peered up at his friends and felt his heart pound at the thought of what Santi was asking.

"How so?"

"His hands," Santi clarified, "There's some string in the first aid kit, tie his hands behind his back so he can't touch himself."

Benny followed his orders without question, heading toward the bathroom to grab the kit while Will gave Santiago a confused look. "Why can't he touch himself?"

Santi smiled, tilting his head a bit and peering down at Frankie's already debauched form. He walked forward and kneeled down in front of him, levelling with him as he reached for his waistband.

"'Cause he likes it," Santi murmured, "Haven't you noticed something about Frankie in all the months we've been doing this?" As he spoke he pulled down Frankie's pants to his knees, exposing his bare thighs to the room. He was already hard, the long shape of his cock protruding from his black briefs. "He doesn't touch himself," he continued softly, stroking his thumb gently against the V of Frankie's hips, "He always comes in his pants when he sucks our dicks."

Hearing the words aloud, stated so matter-of-factly, Frankie realized in that moment how fucking well Santiago had come to know him. Not once had Frankie voiced this, told him anything about what he really liked, what he craved. And yet here he was, having his desires told directly to him, like it was the most casual thing in the world.

"And when he gets fucked," Santi continued, fingers trailing downward to ever so gently cup Frankie's cock, "He only lets me touch it. Ain't that right, Francisco?"

Frankie nodded slowly, a lump forming in his throat.

"Why?" Will asked again - always wanting clarification, an explanation.

"'Cause it feels good, doesn't it, Frankie?" Santi cooed, releasing Frankie's bulge and bringing his hand up to place a finger under his chin, "Feels so good to come untouched, huh? Feels good to let go when you've got a dick in your mouth, to fall asleep with your underwear all wet and your cock all sticky?"

Frankie nodded again, cheeks blooming pink. He felt someone behind him pick up his hands, start tying them together - Benny.

"Come to think of it, I've never seen his cock," Benny admitted, voice already rough with anticipation, "I mean... I guess I had other things on my mind."

"He's got a fucking great cock," Santi murmured, "Why don't you show 'em, Francisco? Let 'em see what you've been hiding under here, huh?" His finger dug into the band of Frankie's briefs, and all Frankie could do was nod again, unable to speak with the way his thoughts had begun to melt away, brain going fuzzy.

Benny finished tying his hands and walked in front of him again to stand alongside Santi, eyebrows going up when he watched Frankie's cock be freed from the confines of his underwear. It stood at attention immediately, long and hard, pink and flushed at the tip. It smacked wetly against his belly, balls hanging heavy and full as Santi pulled his briefs down entirely.

"Now look at that pretty cock," Santi breathed, almost just for Frankie alone, "Look how it's dripping."

And it was dripping, already pulsing and bobbing against his belly button with every rise and fall of his chest. The three men watched in silence for a moment as Frankie took deep breaths, his cock twitching and stuttering in front of them without being touched, simply exposed to the cool air of the room and their interested gazes.

"I kinda wanna...." Benny started to say, but trailed off, blushing a bit as he took a step away from his brother.

"I'll stay between you," Santi offered quickly, "Pull 'em out, it's fine."

There was no more hesitation after that. Frankie watched under his lashes as his three friends reached into their pajama pants and pulled out their cocks. Will was still mostly soft, though you could tell he was starting to harden with the sudden gravity of the situation. Benny was already stiff and leaking as he fisted his own, and Santiago's hung heavy and thick between his legs as he carefully circled the head with his thumb.

"We're gonna come all over your face, Frank," Benny told him quietly as he jerked his cock slowly up and down, "You know that, right? You're sure you're cool with that?"

It was like he was underwater, still unable to speak; he hadn't said one word since he'd gotten on his knees. It was as if the submissive part of him had taken over completely, mind going blank.

"Say yes or no, Fish," Will said, voice strained as he squeezed himself gently, "Wanna hear it."

"Yes," Frankie had finally managed to whimper, knees trembling against the cold floor, "Yes, please."

Santi grinned, "Well boys, I think we got our answer," He tilted his head again to eye Frankie from where he stood, "Let's get a little closer, shall we? I think he wants us up close and personal."

Within a few seconds Frankie was suddenly face to face with three cocks - it was like fucking Christmas morning. His mouth popped open and drool immediately began to collect in the corners of his mouth, eyes trailing back and forth to look at absolutely everything he could. He stared at the weeping tips, the fat heads, the thick shafts where his friends pumped and fisted. Without any thoughts in his brain he opened his mouth and laid his tongue flat against his lower lip, staring at Benny's cock - arguably the biggest - with pleading eyes.

"Yeah, you wanna suck on it, don't you?" Benny asked, a smile in his voice, "You go ahead, Fish. Suck that cock."

He did not need telling twice. His lips wrapped around the pink mushroom head of Benny's cock and his eyes rolled back as he began to suck, tongue lapping at the tip and devouring everything it had to offer. God he loved having his mouth full, loved hearing Benny's groans as he pushed his head forward and enveloped more and more of the cock in front of him, began to slide his lips up and down the shaft and cover it in his saliva.

"So pretty with a cock in your throat, Francisco," Santi told him, voice full of praise as he watched Frankie sink down even further on Benny's cock, 'til his nose was buried in his pubic hair. "Tell him how pretty he is, Benny. He wants to hear it."

Frankie anticipated some hesitance, maybe even a sarcastic comment, but Benny did no such thing. Instead, Benny's hand came up to cup the back of Frankie's head, holding him still on his cock as he breathed, "You're so pretty, Frankie."

A high keen of a whine made it's way from Frankie's throat, vibrated around the cock in his mouth. Benny trembled a bit, tangling his fingers in his hair and helping him bob a few more times before pulling him off completely. Frankie gasped for breath, tears in his eyes as he stared up at his friends.

"Your turn," Santi murmured quietly to Will, "Stuff him full."

"He fuckin' loves being stuffed," Will replied with a low chuckle, yanking Frankie forward by his hair and shoving his now fully hard cock into his mouth. It was the kind of rough Frankie was already well acquainted with when it came to Will, and he welcomed it with gratitude. He closed his eyes and allowed Will's cock to sink into his mouth like Benny's had, then swallowed around it, tightening the walls of his throat and gagging around the large intrusion.

"Yeah, choke on it, baby," Will muttered, gripping both sides of Frankie's head with a groan, "Baby boy."

Baby boy. That was a new one, especially from Will, but Frankie certainly wasn't complaining. He swallowed around him again, feeling his own cock bob against his stomach as he continued to worship Will's dick. There was only so much of the sensation that Will could take, and before long he too was pulling out of Frankie's mouth and resuming his slow strokes, breathing heavily.

"M'your baby boy," Frankie murmured to the three of them, Will's words still echoing in his mind. His voice was already completely shot, rough and scratchy from the two large cocks that had invaded his throat.

"You are," Santiago cooed, leaning forward to gently tap the head of his own cock against Frankie's bottom lip, "You're our baby boy, Frankie. Our good, pretty, perfect boy, huh?"

Yes, Frankie wanted to whisper, it's all I am. It's all I wanna be. But his mouth was already being filled a third time, this time by Santi's cock - the thickest of the three. His vision blurred with tears as it stretched his lips, the masculine taste dripping on the back of his tongue and down his throat. He'd had Santi's cock in his mouth the most out of everyone's; had fallen asleep a few times suckling on the tip of it while Santi murmured praise, like a comfort, a constant.

He knew exactly what Santi liked, what he didn't, how to tease him, how to get him there. Immediately, Frankie curled his tongue around the wide head, dipped the tip of it into Santi's slit and carefully fucked it in and out while suctioning the rest. He kept his eyes open this time even though they burned with tears, allowing himself to meet Santiago's gaze just how he knew he liked it.

"Oh, good boy," Santi praised softly, thumbing Frankie's cheeks and letting the head of his cock sit just inside the wet heat of his mouth, "Suckin' on that cock like it's my thumb, huh? Just how you like it?"

Now that was something unbeknownst to Benny and Will. They knew Santi liked to fuck Frankie sometimes, but they didn't know much about the logistics, the positioning, the way it worked. More often than not, Frankie would suck on Santi's thumb when he was being fucked, liked the feeling of having both his holes full at the same time. It felt complete somehow, safe. God, what would it feel like now if Santi were to fuck him and let Benny or Will fuck his throat? What would it feel like to be truly filled up like that, the way he'd always imagined? His cock twitched against his belly again, still untouched, still pulsing, and he moaned around Santi's cock.

"I think our baby boy needs a little break," Santi murmured softly, "Shh, it's okay, Frankie, it's alright," he slowly pulled his cock from Frankie's lips and allowed him to catch his breath, chest heaving. He felt multiple hands petting his hair, stroking his cheeks, thumbing his temples. Someone brushed one of his nipples, pinched it ever so gently and then did the same to the other one.

"Sweet little things," Will murmured, and that answered that.

"He really is a fucking godsend, Pope," Benny breathed, disbelief and awe playing at the edge of his voice, "Softest mouth I've ever felt."

"His eyes are what get me," Santi replied, and Frankie felt him take his cap off and toss it to the side, then a pair of lips kiss his forehead, "He's got the prettiest brown eyes, look so beautiful when he's got that wet mouth all full."

The way they talked about him, like he wasn't even there, like he was just a toy, something to play with, an object - it was so much. It was too much. He leaned back on his haunches and whimpered, eyes fluttering open as he looked up at his friends, still standing in front of him with their now very wet cocks in their hands.

"Put them on my face," he begged, voice broken and haggard, "All of them, please."

"Fuck," Benny gasped out, and without hesitation he placed the entire length of his cock along Frankie's cheek and forehead, tapping it a few times and hissing, "There you go. There it is, baby boy."

"You go around the other side," Santi told Will, knowing he wouldn't want to touch Benny's cock, "Put yours upside down on his other cheek, I'll go middle."

Benny was still slapping Frankie's face gently with his cock, hissing and groaning out words of praise. Santi slapped his own down across the center of his face, along his nose and lips. His cock settled up against Benny's, and for the shortest of seconds Frankie noted that they rubbed them together without speaking, without looking at each other. Will joined them on the other side, his balls hanging low on Frankie's forehead and his tip jutting out near his chin. Three cocks, side by side, covering their friend's entire face.

"Slap him with them, he likes that," Benny said through gritted teeth, doing it again and again and reveling in the whimpers and whines Frankie was making below them, "Ohhh, he fuckin' loves that."

"I don't think I can last," Will spit, voice more strained than it had been before, "This is too much, I'm gonna blow my whole fuckin' load any minute now."

"No one's stopping you," Santi encouraged, "Doesn't matter when we come, what matters is we do it all over his face. Cover him with it."

"Oh, he's gonna be fuckin' drenched," Benny groaned, eyes closing as he stilled his slapping movements to hold back his own orgasm. His voice was wild now, desperate, "I wanna come in his mouth, I call dibs."

"You hear that, Frankie, baby?" Santi murmured with a sly smile, "Benny called dibs on filling your mouth."

Frankie wouldn't have responded even if he could, just let out another whimpering moan and dropped his jaw, lolled his tongue out so his friends could take turns tapping the heads of their cocks against it. He was covered in precum, felt it dribbling down his chin and forehead, collecting behind his teeth and dripping down the back of his throat.

"Let him suck," Will hissed, "Let him suck mine one more time." At his words, Benny and Santi moved out of the way as best they could, Santi tapping Frankie's eyelid with his cock while Benny smeared more precum into his forehead. They watched as Frankie carefully suckled Will's tip into his mouth, closed his lips around him and hummed.

"Put it in your throat, baby boy," Will told him firmly, "Swallow around it, there you go. Thaaat's a good boy."

Gurgling sounds were coming from Frankie's gag reflex but he didn't stop or pull away, kept doing exactly what he knew Will needed as he swallowed him down. It took barely any time at all for it to be too much for Will to handle, and before any of them knew it he was pulling out and pumping his cock furiously over Frankie's face. Benny and Santi stepped back - they all knew what was coming.

"Don't come in his mouth, I called dibs," Benny warned, and Frankie could have sworn he heard Santiago chuckle.

"Keep your eyes closed, Fish," Will muttered, directly in front of him now as the wet sounds of his fist slipping up and down his cock filled the room, "Gonna paint that pretty little face and those sweet little nipples."

Franke whimpered, keeping his eyes closed as he continued to listen to what was going on around him. He could hear Santi and Benny still jerking themselves a few steps away, but Will's grunts and groans were the most prominent, the most present. And only a few seconds later he felt the first splash of cum hit his face - his left cheek.

"There it is," Santi egged Will on, "There he goes."

Another rope of cum landed on his forehead, dripped down onto his eyebrow. Then another on his chin. He listened as Will let out one more groan, still pumping his cock as he aimed at Frankie's bare chest. He felt two more spurts trickle down both of his nipples, sensitive and hard, and that was it.

"Fuck," Will groaned, satisfaction plain as day in his voice, "Fuck, Frankie."

He opened his eyes and was met with Will's cock, tight in his fist. Without hesitation he leaned forward and brought the tip gently into his mouth, licking off the excess cum as Will brought his hand down to play with Frankie's curls. He sucked for a few seconds, placed a soft kiss to the tip - his favorite spot - and then looked up to meet Will's gaze, a dazed little smile playing on his lips.

"Give it one more little kiss, baby boy," Will murmured, "Just one more." Frankie did as he was told, eyelashes fluttering as he kissed the sticky tip once more, and then Will was backing up to let Santi and Benny back into their spots.

"You're a good boy, Fish," he murmured, tucking himself back into his pants. "Mind if I watch the rest?"

"Please stay," Frankie managed to breathe, and the movement of his face caused some of the cum in his eyebrow to trickle downwards, dipping into the crevice of his nose. Will smiled and nodded, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall to observe.

"Won't be much longer now, Francisco," Santi told him softly, shuffling forward to carefully fill Frankie's mouth again with his dick. He watched with fascination as Frankie slowly bobbed on it, like muscle memory as he breathed evenly through his nose. "M'close. I think Benny's close too."

"You look so fuckin' good with all that cum on your face," Benny told him, voice almost pained, "Gonna look even better with more."

Surprisingly, Frankie pulled off Santi's dick without being told to do so and peered over at Benny with hunger in his eyes, "Can you... can I..." he cut himself off, going bright red as he looked back to Santi for reassurance.

"What is it, baby?" Santi asked softly, brow furrowing, "You good? You need to take a break?"

Frankie shook his head quickly, "N-no, I just...I..." he bit his lip and hoped his sudden idea wasn't about to be shot down, "Can you put them both in at the same time?"

A beat of silence. Then-

"Fuck," Benny groaned, "Fuck, that's hot." There was no doubt in Frankie's mind now that Benny had quite liked having his dick so close to Santi's, so it made him grin when Benny moved forward to stand beside his friend and jut his cock out toward Frankie's mouth.

"Open up, Fish."

Dropping his jaw once again and staring wide eyed up at his teammates, cum still fresh and sticky all over his face, Frankie allowed Benny and Santi to slide both their cocks into his waiting mouth. The feeling was insane. The taste was insane. All masculine and heady and musky and wet, the smell of sweat and raw sex invading his nostrils as they both pushed their dicks further in alongside each other. Frankie felt two hands in his hair, one of Santi's and one of Benny's, holding him still.

"Oh fuck, I need a picture of this," Benny groaned, blinking furiously as he peered down at where he and Santi's dicks jutted out from Frankie's mouth. "Will, grab Pope's camera, I'm serious. I need to remember this."

As Will made his way to the bunks, Frankie continued to blink slowly and languidly, tongue almost lazily swirling along the fat heads of the two big cocks in his mouth. They were dripping everywhere, warm and sticky, layering the back of his tongue with all of their arousal. And he was so fucking overwhelmed.

"Two cocks," Santi breathed, thumbing a bit of Will's cum that had begun to dry on Frankie's cheek, "Two fat cocks for Frankie, huh?"

"Look at how his lips stretch," Benny added, pushing his cock in the tiniest bit further to watch how Frankie's mouth adjusted to the size, "S'like he was made for it."

"He was made for it," Santi agreed softly, pushing some hair out of Frankie's face and tucking it behind his ear, "Huh, Francisco? Were you made for this?"

Another slow blink and an even slower nod, careful not to dislodge the appendages in his mouth. Benny assessed the door Will had left through and then hesitated for a moment before turning to Santi and whispering, "You feel good, Pope," under his breath.

"So do you," Santi replied with a smile, "Y'got a nice dick."

Benny seemed a bit flustered, avoiding Santiago's gaze as he muttered, "Thanks."

Will rejoined them a few seconds later, Santiago's polaroid camera in hand. Frankie watched with pleasure as Will brought the camera over his head and faced it downwards, preparing the shot.

"Chipmunk cheeks," Will murmured fondly, snapping the picture with a smile, "This'll do great for the annual Christmas card, huh boys?" It was a joke of course; they all knew that what was happening right would more than likely never leave the base, but Santi and Benny laughed nonetheless, pushing their cocks just a little bit more into Frankie's mouth.

"He's full," Benny murmured, "All filled up."

"Not entirely," Santi chuckled, "But close enough."

Their teasing words, their smiles and their laughs, it was making Frankie crazy. His untouched cock was still bobbing on its own accord, twitching and dripping as they talked about him like he wasn't even there. He was going to come soon, he just knew it, and the thought alone made him whine around his friend's dicks, his eyes rolling back.

"Shh, it's okay, Francisco," Santi reassured him softly, "Just give us one more minute to enjoy this, okay? Will's gonna take a few more pictures. You just stay still and keep suckin' on those cocks."

"You got this, Fish," Benny murmured, "You can do it, you're a good boy."

I am, Frankie thought to himself as he closed his eyes and heard the snap of another photo, I am a good boy.

Will took two more pictures with the camera so they'd each have one, tugging the polaroids out as they developed and waving them in the air. This was better than any porno magazine they'd ever be able to stow away, something real and raw, perfect spank bank material.

"I want the first one, where his eyes are open," Santi told Will when he was done, "Calling dibs."

"You got it."

Finally, Benny and Santi pulled themselves slowly out of Frankie's mouth, leaving him nothing but a drooling, lightheaded mess on his knees in front of them. He gasped for breath, head going down as he coughed and spluttered. He felt Will's hands patting his back, helping him through it as his chest heaved.

"Gonna come all over that pretty face, Fish," he heard Benny groan, "Open that mouth again, gonna fill it up."

With all the strength he could muster, Frankie tilted his head up and shakily opened his mouth again. His jaw was sore and aching but he knew he could last a little longer, knew he could give his friends what they needed before he collapsed in a heap on the floor. He watched as Benny jerked his cock in front of his face, watched the way his precum bubbled and spilled at the tip before being replaced with ropes and ropes of hot cum. If Benny was known for anything when it came to their little extracurriculars, it was certainly the ridiculous amount of spend he was able to produce.

"Right in the back of his fuckin' throat," he groaned, watching as it spurted into Frankie's open mouth, "Knew I had perfect aim." He redirected the head of his cock to further paint more of Frankie's face, covering him with thick white all over his cheeks and lips. "Don't swallow it, Fish," he managed to moan out, "Keep aaaall of it in there for me like the good boy you are."

A few more spurts along his neck and chest, one more in his mouth, and then Benny was tapping the head of his cock against Frankie's tongue again, watching as the last few drops spilled out onto it. Frankie peered up at him with heavy lids, a low moan emitting from the back of his throat.

"Yeah," Benny breathed, tapping his tongue again, "That's for you, s'all for you." He pulled his cock out and took a step back, nodding toward Santi, "Go ahead, man. I think he's spent."

"He'll be okay," Santi said softly, shuffling in front of Frankie again and pressing the sticky tip of his cock to the corner of his cum-filled mouth, "Huh, baby? Can you last a little longer? Just a few more minutes for me?" Frankie nodded and he smiled, "Open wide, baby boy."

"Come on, I don't want him to swallow it yet," Benny said a little exasperatedly as Santi slipped the head of his cock past Frankie's lips, the tiniest bit of Benny's cum dribbling from the left corner of his mouth.

"He won't swallow," Santi murmured, "He's just gonna get my dick a little wet." He looked up to share a knowing look with Benny, like a little secret between them, and Benny turned bright red.

At his words, Frankie swirled Benny's cum around the head of Santi's cock, coating it in the salty substance. He gazed up into Santi's eyes as he did it, almost like he was silently whispering to him, pleading; I'm ready now, I'm ready for you to give it to me.

"Okay, Francisco," Santi whispered, just for him, "Lo has hecho tan bien." You've done so well.

He pulled out of Frankie with a pornographic squelching sound and began to work Benny's cum and Frankie's saliva up and down the length of his cock, still staring directly into Frankie's deep brown eyes. He bit down on his bottom lip, brows furrowing as he brought himself closer and closer to the edge.

"Ask for it," he said quietly, edged with something unhinged.

"Please," Frankie breathed, voice garbled and muffled by the cum in his mouth and the ache in his throat, "Please come on me, Santi."

And that was enough.

"Mierda," Santi groaned out, stomach tensing as his thick cock twitched in his grasp. Frankie didn't close his eyes this time, kept them locked onto Santi's as cum drenched his face. It splashed along his cheek and nose in short bursts, dripped down his neck and collected in the corners of his mouth. Without being able to help it, he popped his mouth open one final time to allow Santi to add more cum to the cocktail on his tongue.

"Christ," Will muttered a few steps away, "Would ya look at that?"

"This," Benny sighed, a smile in his voice, "This is what we needed. Fuck Redfly, man."

In any other circumstance Santiago probably would have smacked Benny on the back of the head for disrespecting the team leader, but he was a little more than preoccupied at the moment. He was still staring down into Frankie's eyes, lost in a daze as Frankie tugged him back into his mouth with his tongue and sucked the last remaining spurt of cum from the tip of his cock.

"C'mere, watch him swallow," Santi gestured for the others to join him, and they all resumed their positions in front of Frankie with heavy lidded eyes as they watched him suck.

"Show us first," Benny murmured, "Come on, Fish, show us what's in your mouth, huh?"

Releasing Santi's cock with a pop, Frankie carefully opened his mouth to show his friends the pool of cum swirling on his tongue, dripping down into the soft pockets of his cheeks. Practically in awe, they all stared as he played with it, twisted his tongue back and forth and moving the thick globs of cum from one side of his mouth to the other.

"Swallow," Santi whispered, and Frankie obeyed.

It felt like heaven going down his throat, thick and warm. His eyes rolled a little, tongue darting behind his teeth to lick any that he'd missed, swallowing again and then dropping his jaw to show them his clean tongue, mouth empty.

"Good boy."

They stood there in silence for a moment, almost in reverence. Frankie was a mess, covered in three thick loads of spend and still on his knees with his cock bobbing against his stomach. He was so aroused it was almost painful, the head of his cock pulsing along with his heartbeat as he waited for an order, a command. He whined a little, waiting for someone to do something.

"Untie him," Santi finally told Benny with a smirk, "I think he's ready now."

Ready was an understatement. So much of an understatement in fact that Benny had barely brushed against Frankie's hands to untie the string when Frankie was suddenly letting out the loudest moan of the night, high and unbridled and full of pleasured desperation. Benny practically ripped the string from his hands to turn around and get a better look, watching with wide eyes as Frankie started to come with his cock completely untouched.

It was truly a sight to behold. His three friends stood frozen with their eyes glued to Frankie's cock as it bobbed and twitched of it's own accord, slapped repeatedly against his own stomach and dipped into his belly button. They watched as thick ropes of cum began to spill from his weeping tip, painting his stomach and chest, his chin, the floor. His balls shivered and tightened, more spurting out again and again as he writhed and shook on his knees, making the most pathetic little sounds as his eyes rolled.

Four loads now.

They were all in shock. They'd known he could do it, had felt him come in his pants untouched more than enough times at that point to know it was possible for him. But Christ, they'd never seen anything like it.

The room went silent as Frankie caught his breath, as he came down from his untouched orgasm and his loud outburst. They all watched as his cock continued to twitch with aftershocks, Benny letting out a soft groan when a little more cum dribbled from the tip. And then it was over.

More silence, save for Frankie's gasps and whimpers. And then Will took a step forward.

"Thank you, Fish," he told him earnestly, patting him on the shoulder and squeezing it gently, "That was... fuck. Thank you. You're fuckin' incredible."

Frankie looked up at him through fluttering lashes and nodded with a small smile, and then Will disappeared back to the bunks.

Benny was next. He got down on Frankie's level and came face to face with him, a grin on his face, "You're so pretty, Frank," he told him softly, "And you did so good. S'at what you needed?" Frankie nodded and Benny ruffled his hair a little bit, "Thanks, man. Thank you. We're gonna kill it tomorrow."

He followed his brother back to the bunks, leaving just Frankie and Santi alone together. Just like Benny had, Santi kneeled down to meet Frankie at eye level, picking up his cap along the way and carefully placing it on top of Frankie's head with a smile.

"Did I do good?" Frankie asked him softly, voice hoarse.

Santiago smiled even wider, pulled the cap down a bit further and murmured, "Si, Francisco. Perfecto."

A sleepy and sated grin lit up Frankie's cum-coated face. He could still feel everything, the thick layer of spend on his cheeks and chest, his slowly softening cock, the ache in his jaw - and he loved all of it. It felt right. So fucking right.

"Can you take a picture?" he suddenly asked, eyes alight, "Of me? Like this? I wanna... I wanna keep it. To remember it."

Santi's eyes softened even more, hand coming up to gently stroke Frankie's bare shoulder, "I can do that."

Santi grabbed the polaroid camera, held it front of his face and peered down at Frankie with a fond smile as his friend looked up at him softly, tiredly. "Show me those eyes, Francisco," he murmured, and Frankie halted the fluttering of his lashes to give the camera his ultimate fucked-out expression, a smile playing at his lips. The camera flashed and Santi pulled out the developed picture, waving it in the air as he settled back down in front of Frankie.

"Look at all this," he murmured softly, reaching up to gently thumb a bit of the cum on Frankie's face and scoop it carefully into his friend's mouth. Frankie sucked Santi's thumb with ease, sleepy and docile.

"S'yours," Frankie breathed when Santi pulled it back out.

Santi raised an eyebrow, "Mine?"

"What you just put in my mouth," Frankie clarified with a flush to his cheeks, "That was yours."

"You can tell?"

Frankie nodded with a soft chuckle, "Yeah, I can tell you all apart."

And if that wasn't the hottest thing Santiago had ever heard in his life.

Getting up from the floor was a bit of a task, but Santi helped him every step of the way. He lead Frankie to the showers where he let him lean against the wall, let him bask in the warmth of the hot water and the feeling of soap and shampoo as Santi worshipped him in a different way, a new way. Pressed kisses to his temples and his forehead, took his time lathering Frankie's arms and legs, gently cleaned his coated face and spent cock. And when he was done, Santi wrapped him in a towel and brought him back to his bunk, laid beside him and kissed him slow and deep until it felt like all that existed was just the two of them, nobody else.

He'd placed the polaroid in Frankie's bedside table and stroked his hair, murmured those familiar soft and gentle praises as he drifted to sleep.

Needless to say, their first mission was a success.

You're lying down with him now. It's well past midnight, moonlight streaming in through your bare-bones new bedroom as you peer at him quietly from under your lashes. He looks tired - he's been talking for over an hour now.

"There's more," he murmurs, eyes drooping, "More happened after that, a lot more, but I-"

"You've told me more than enough," you whisper, "You've been so honest, Frankie." Your thumb comes up to stroke his cheek, your mouth turning up slightly at the corners when his eyes start to close, "Thank you for telling me about that."

He hums, breathes deeply as sleep slowly starts to find him. You can't help but stare at him, watch his face turn peaceful, the lines in the corners of his eyes smoothing out, his full lips relaxing into a natural frown. He's so beautiful. He's so.... good.

You think of him back then, the way he probably used to be. So unsure, so new to the real world and so close to facing things he'd never anticipated. You picture him lying in his bunk with Will above him, Santi and Benny beside him, Tom somewhere else, somewhere distant - it makes sense now. It all makes sense.

And now he's lying in his own bed, in his own house, years later - with you. You, the only thing you think has really made sense to him for a long time, the only thing that's helped him overcome some of life's worst obstacles, the pain and the trauma from the shit he's dealt with throughout his life.

But despite all of this, despite the past few years you've spent together, you suddenly can't help but wonder where he'd be right now if you hadn't met.

Would he be in Santiago's bed?

You slip out from under the blankets and grab your phone from your nightstand, making sure to turn out the light before heading to the kitchen. Your nostrils are met with the smell of fresh paint and leftover chow mein as you flick on the overhead and settle yourself on one of the stools at the kitchen island.

Unsure exactly why, you unlock your phone and scroll through your contacts, biting your lip as you search for Santiago's name. When you finally find it, you tap on it, feeling something odd sink in your heart when you see the lack of messages. You've never texted him? Not even once? You lean back and try to think of the last time you even had a conversation alone with him without Frankie or the others there, just a one-on-one interaction... and you come up blank.

He'd been such a huge part of Frankie's life. And still is now - still sees him on weekends, goes to games and bars, came over to the old apartment for drinks and dinner pretty regularly. He's been there for Frankie in ways you never could have imagined or guessed, took care of him and comforted him, would probably take a bullet for him - hell, he actually might've for all you know.

You look back down at your phone and stare at the blank space where words should be, feel that guilt from earlier rise in your chest and make a home in the form of a lump in your throat.

You start typing out a message.

#frankie catfish morales #ficrec

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ariundercovers · 15 days

Text

Well fuck if it isn’t erectile dysfunction day over here in my reblogs. DAMN that was HOT ��

Diehard

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel tries Viagra for the very first time.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Erectile dysfunction. Daddy kink. Praise kink if you squint. Overstimulation. Cumplay. She/her pussy pronouns. Pushing physical limits with a pre-negotiated safe word in place for it.

Note: No more limp dick erasure. We die like [old] men.

Part of the Waiting Game ‘verse | Word count: 986

Joel just wanted to prove he could fuck like he used to.

He didn’t think he’d almost kill you in the process.

“JOEL!” you screeched, heels digging deep in the mattress as your climax came in seismic waves.

The stimulation was insane. Normally the much-older man would have been down for the count after two—and usually one—big O, but now his chest was heaving, hips relentlessly beating a punishing pace against your own.

Your walls were slick with not only your cum but his, milky ropes of his arousal making for an obscene set of sounds every time his dick slid in and out of your cunt. You could feel his balls tighten and twitch with every forthcoming spurt of him, practically reeling with the pulse of each new sticky gift inside you. His groans rumbled low, but the power and pleasure and outright primal fervor they conveyed were unmistakeable. You had to look down, feebly, to believe it yourself—Joel never fucked his way through your orgasm and his.

Then you felt a palm slide up the back of your head, and Joel held it up to make sure you watched him fuck you.

“J-Joel,” you whimpered, watching his girth disappear and reappear at least a half-dozen times as you did.

“Just a little more, honey,” he murmured against your forehead. The smack of each thrust was dizzying, “Want my pretty girl nice and full’a me before she leaves, okay?”

Joel never could let you head back to college without a few of his loads and a head full of filthy memories—something to hold you over until your next visit home. You would’ve liked to mumble back, ‘Okay,’ but then your pussy clenched around him, and his thrusts grew faster.

“My sweet girl,” he grinned, “She likes that, huh?”

You could scarcely manage a nod. The weight of your head was held fully by him, and if that wasn’t indicative enough of your fucked-out state, your face surely said the rest. When Joel leaned back to adjust the angle of his thrusts, he caught sight of your hooded, glossy stare and almost came all over again. He slowed his pace for once.

Then he dipped a finger between your body and his, just long enough to douse the tip of his digit with cum. He bottomed out inside you, watched you part your lips in a gentle gasp, and pressed his touch to that open space.

It was almost like you didn’t have the strength to suck. You just let him smear the sticky stuff along your lower lip, gaze plastered to his. Then Joel’s cock sank deeper.

“O-ow!” you whined, partly reanimated by the stretch.

“You can take it,” Joel grunted.

The double entendre wasn’t lost on you. You could, and would, take his finger and his cock inside. You suckled dumbly on the cum-drenched fingertip in assent.

But when Joel’s finger popped out of your mouth and his thrusts picked back up, you weren’t entirely convinced you would be able to hold up the second half of that deal.

It wasn’t fair. He took one magic pill, and poof, his dick stayed hard for half the fucking day. You had nothing but your youth and two shaking legs to ensure your survival. When Joel worked his cock back and forth a couple more times and it seemed your body was about ready to scream, you took hold of his biceps and squeezed tight.

“I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

The tip of his cock nicked a soft ridge inside you, and you jolted back. Joel’s palm was still pressed to your head, holding you to him, and his hips had you pinned as well.

Instead of answering, you whimpered.

You didn’t want him to stop, but you also weren’t sure if you could handle any more. Your eyes met his, pleading.

“Can’t what?” Joel pressed, a little more sternly.

Another whimper. Inside, Joel’s cock was rubbing that pleasure point raw, and you felt another climax coming.

“Use your words.”

“Too— too—”

Each new thrust was sending stars before your eyes. Joel was one sick man if he tried to make you talk while he fucked you past the point of all intelligible speech.

“Too what? Tell me, baby.”

You’d get that fucker back someday. Joel just grinned.

“Too much,” you hissed when his hips delivered another mind-numbing push. Then, feeling pleasure threaten to peak at almost a painful degree, “Toomuchtoomucht—”

Joel continued thrusting, knowing damn well you knew what to say if you really wanted him to stop. As if to underscore this point, he tipped your head back and made you hold his gaze, features creased with a frown.

“That sure don’t sound like the safe word to me.”

It wasn’t. You knew it wasn’t. He didn’t need to tell you twice, or even breathe a second word besides. With one more brush of Joel’s thick, throbbing, implausibly hard cock, he sent you over the edge and into your fourth orgasm of the morning, hitting that spot again and again.

And again.

Just like before, Joel fucked you through each wave, catching your lips this time to stifle your cries. You might’ve gone blind for a second or two, but that was alright; the pleasure, proximity, and then the sweet, erratic pulse of his cock sending rope after rope of his cum deep inside made the overstimulation worthwhile.

Your body went limp against the bed, held tight in Joel’s grasp, when you felt that sickly sweet dichotomy of soft, tender touches and a cock lodged between your walls that was as hard as it had ever been. Still trying to console you with kisses, still trying to warm you up for another round, perhaps, Joel almost laughed out loud in your mouth when you groaned into his and whispered:

“Please don’t ever take that fucking pill again.”

#Joel miller #ficrec

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ariundercovers · 15 days

Text

Omg this was so sweet and perfect and felt so real 🥹 I love my old man Joel

Stiff (no outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader - age gap)

Moth's Masterlist // Add yourself to the tag list

pairing: no outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

rating: E!!! 18+MDNI

summary: As Joel's getting older, his body isn't working the way it used to. Luckily, you're happy to help him out.

contents: erectile dysfunction, age gap, anxiety, Joel is old (affectionate), m masturbation, oral sex, p in v sex, reader is able bodied but not described, moth never uses y/n.

wc: 2k

a/n: There was a post going around a couple weeks ago about Joel taking a long time to finish as he gets older. Well, I made it worse for him. Sorry to this man. Thanks @ezrasbirdie for betaing and being a slut for Joel even if his dick doesn't work.

...

Joel’s nervous in a way he can only remember from his youth. Back when girls’ bodies were a mystery to him. It’s his own that’s the real conundrum these days.

He’s been seeing you for over a month now and he likes you. A lot. He wasnt sure he would considering Tommy set the two of you up and there were more than a few years between you. Joel hasn’t dated for a while but he’s glad he took a chance on you.

You’re a great girl. Knock out looks. Funny, smart. The kind of woman he wouldn’t mind introducing to Sarah.

Only problem is, one day he’s going to have to fuck you.

Not that he doesn’t want to. He’d love to. He’s thought about it more than he should.

He imagines how warm and tight you’d feel around him as he tugs at himself in the shower. Pictures your pussy swallowing him whole. Sometimes he thinks about what your mouth would feel like, those beautiful lips wrapped around him.

But he’s too chicken shit to do it.

He’s getting up there. 56 years old and his dick doesn’t work the way it used to. It happens every once in a while, no matter how horny he is. Things just go soft.

He’s already self conscious about seeing a younger woman. He’s caught himself examining the grey hairs at his temple before a few dates. Maybe it’s time for some Just For Men. Silver hairs are one thing. He doesn’t think he can withstand the humiliation he’d feel if he couldn't make it to the finish line with you.

The worst part is, you want it. There’s no playing coy with you. You don’t hesitate to invite him back to your place after drinks. You initiate deep, lurid kisses in his truck. You wear slinky lace panties that beg to be seen.

You must think he’s some kind of saint the way he’s insisted on going down on you with no reciprocation. Each time you reach for the fly on his jeans, he demurs.

“That’s alright, darlin’. Just want you to feel good.”

His cock throbs, balls ache.

He wants to do it, to plunge into that pussy he’s made all messy and wet. But he’s terrified he’ll start and find himself dying inside of you, shriveling up like a raisin. Thirty years ago, he wouldn’t have lasted five minutes. Now, he’s afraid he can’t keep it up. He’ll never hear from you again when you realize he’s an old man with a limp dick.

Tonight you asked him over to watch a movie. He knew exactly what that meant. It’s been playing in the background for thirty minutes as you climbed into his lap to kiss him. You slide yourself rhythmically across the growing lump in his pants, slow, steady strokes. He can feel the heat of your pussy through the fabric and, fuck, he wants you.

He holds your hips against him so you can get more friction and you moan. You can use him to get yourself off and maybe that’ll be enough.

“Joel, I want you to fuck me,” you breathe against his ear.

“Yeah?” he asks. He’s buying time, trying to think of an excuse.

“Please don’t make me beg,” you whine.

He looks at you, all disheveled and needy. You’ve stripped off your shirt and your bra strap hangs off of one shoulder. Your body feels so soft on his. It’s too much to take. He swallows hard.

“Let’s go to your room,” he says.

There’s more time for preamble once the two of you have changed locations. More kissing to get back into the swing of it, clothes coming off piece by piece.

Joel makes one more last ditch effort to snake between your legs mumbling something about getting you ready. You stop him.

“I’m already soaking for you,” you whine.

He gives up.

“Do you have a condom?” he asks. Maybe you won’t and he can pretend the one in his wallet doesn’t exist.

“You don’t have to. I’m on the pill,” you say.

Joel hates himself. You’ve practically gift wrapped your pussy and put it on a silver platter for him. He should be elated for this.

You sense his hesitation and your brows knit together.

“I’ve been tested. But we can use a condom if you want,” offer like you’re trying to save him the embarrassment of admitting he has a venereal disease.

You look like you’re about to ask him why he’s acting so squirrelly and he’d rather drive off a cliff than say it out loud.

“Nuh uh. I wanna feel all of you,” he says.

Despite his anxiety, it’s true. He’s fantasized about this moment as much as he’s dreaded it.

You recover quickly, giggling with anticipation as Joel settles between your thighs.

In the soft clutch of your cunt, Joel has no regrets. It’s absolute bliss. He’s not sure he’s capable of being anything other than hard inside of you.

“That feel good?” you coo.

“Fuck,” is the only answer he’s capable of.

You clench around him, egging him on, and he lets out a groan. He rolls his hips back and plunges his cock deeper. The heady feeling of being surrounded by you is perfection.

He’s ravenous for you. He buries his face in your tits, grips onto the bend in your knee, bites at your jawline. Each time he denied himself this pleasure has made him exponentially aroused.

The sounds that come from you drive him crazy. Little moans and whines with each thrust. You weave your fingers into his hair and dig your fingernails into his shoulder.

“Take it so good,” he grunts. “Pretty little thing.”

He shouldn’t have waited for this. He should have fucked you every time you opened your legs to him. He should have gotten those pills so he could go on fucking you until you had tears in your eyes.

And then it happens. He keeps driving his hips into you but he can’t reach as deep, isn’t being hugged with that snug fit. First frustration fills him. Then utter humiliation.

You can tell. He knows you can. You’re not making as much noise and when he dares to look at your face, he sees the slightest hint of concern.

He’s sweating from his exertion but a chill runs down his spine. Shame and fear, despair. It feels like the rug has been pulled out from his feet.

“Shit. Need a break,” Joel says.

“Yeah,” you respond.

He’s breathless when he rolls off of you. He fists his cock, willing it to spring to attention.

“It ain’t you he insists. You’re— fuck, you’re incredible. Gorgeous.” His head falls back against the pillow as he tries to regain his breath.

He can imagine you having cosmos with your girlfriends, telling them all about the old geezer that couldn’t fuck you porperly.

“I ain’t a young man anymore.”

It feels like another nail being driven into his coffin. He notices his age more and more. His back hurts, knees complain. Tommy ribs him when he sits on palettes of tile with a groan.

Just as Joel feels like he’s got one foot in the grave, you speak up.

“I’m glad you’re not,” you say. You’re trying to catch your breath too. “Joel, I've never come with a guy my age. Most of them won’t even eat pussy.”

That only adds to his self loathing.

“I was just— I was trying to avoid this,” he admits.

It doesn’t feel right to accept your praise when he had ulterior motives. You sit up on your elbow, you other hand gliding across the plane of his chest.

“So you wouldn’t have gone down on me?” you say.

“No. Course I woulda,” he says.

“Even though it took me, like, 45 minutes to finish?”

“That’s alright,” Joel says. He’d loved every second of it, his cock begging for relief as you writhed under this tongue. “I don’t care how long it takes you.”

“Well, me either,” you assure him.

You’re circling his damp skin with a soothing touch and your hand inches down his belly.

“You still want to come, right?” you whisper.

He nods. The need is still there, just as it has been from the very first time he kissed you. He’s touched himself to the thought of you but it’s never been enough. He’s desperate for it now.

You kiss him and bring his hand to cup your breasts. He’s not sure he deserves this— your compassion, your patience. But weeks of fear and embarrassment begin to melt away as Joel focuses on the taste of your tongue, the warmth of your skin under his touch.

“I bet I can get you hard,” you purr. The fine edges of your teeth rake against his earlobe before you get up.

You swing your leg over to straddle his middle, your back facing him. He runs his palm up your bare skin, from your hip as far as he can reach to your shoulder blade. A beautiful expanse of delicate skin, coated with a sheen of perspiration. You look at him over your shoulder with a seductive look, eyes hooded, bottom lip caught in your teeth.

He groans and grips a handful of your ass. You respond by arching your back.

“Can I tell you something?” you ask.

“Uh huh,” is all that he can manage.

“I was so excited to see you, to do this, last night I was touching myself,” you admit.

“Yeah?”

The thought of it increases the arousal that’s already coursing through him. You, twisting in your sheets, fingers coated in that sweet slick. Or maybe you used a toy— a smooth little purple thing or maybe one of those big wands that could jackhammer the knots out of his back. Filthy images fly through his mind.

“Not the first time,” you say. “But it’s not as good as the real thing.”

You lean down and through your legs, Joel can see the heavy swell of your breasts. Your peaked nipples sway against his lower belly. As your legs spread wider, he can see your pussy throbbing, convulsing.

Everything is revealed like this. It’s obscene. The curve of your ass is presented, open so he can see your hole. Your lips shine, swollen and slick with release. Dripping for him.

If this doesn’t get him hard, he ought to give up and become a monk.

You moan against him. It’s a little much, pornographic and almost silly but he needs it. Joel focuses everything on the sounds, the feel of your weight on him.

“Put your fingers in me,” you command.

Two digits slide easily into your cunt and you press your hips back towards him. Your breath catches with each rock of your ass. His senses are overwhelmed by you. Soon. Soon he’ll be back inside you, fucking you properly.

And then you put your mouth around his half-hard cock. Hot and unbelievably wet, your tongue coaxes him on. Sloppy noises come from your lips as he begins to twitch back to life.

It’s exquisite torture. The strain in his belly courses lower and he grits his teeth. All of this for him. An old man that ought to be taking those blue pills. You’ve become a little vixen to make him feel young again.

By now his cock has awoken, harder even than before. Probably hardest it’s ever been.

“Okay. Okay, darlin,” he pants. “I’ve got to fuck you right now.”

You lose no time, pulling off of him and scooting down over his thighs, still facing away. You line his stiff cock up to your entrance and sink down over it. This new angle grips him even tighter and he hisses as you draw him in deeper. It’s an obscene view. Joel looks down his chest to see his cock disappearing within you as you ride him. He watches himself fuck you, holding onto your hips so hard he’s afraid he might hurt you.

“Turn around, darlin’,” he manages. “Want to see you.”

You pull off and quickly flip around, your hand tracing his cheek once he’s back inside of you.

“So good for me,” you say.

The sight of you— radiant and triumphant— inspires him to press his feet against the mattress and fuck up into you. He’ll probably regret the strain on his back tomorrow but now, he needs to bury himself deep inside of your cunt before he loses it again.

“Can’t believe I waited so long to fuck this pretty pussy,” he says. “You wanted it so bad. Filthy girl.” He’s babbling senselessly, lost in his own pleasure.

The delicious tension and heat wind in his belly. Each thrust brings him closer to the edge.

His orgasm hits him so hard he practically roars as he spills into you. His hips stutter, every muscle in his body goes taught. Just as quickly it unspools and he nearly collapses under you.

You lay your head on his shoulder, your palm pressing to where his heart beats erratically. You both struggle to catch your breath.

“Not bad for an old man,” you tease.

He lets out a tired laugh before hauling you in for another kiss.

Comments and reblogs always appreciated! My asks are always open!

#joel miller #ficrec

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ariundercovers · 15 days

Text

Taboo - Tommy Miller x AFAB!F!Reader

Summary: Your herbal anxiety remedy gives you an unexpected side effect. Luckily, your lover doesn't mind.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: lactation / unprotected p in v / breeding / infidelity - Tommy is cheating on Maria with Reader / Reader is AFAB & capable of lactating / Reader can be read as any race or body type / smut / dirty talk / big girthy unspecified age gap / self indulgent taboo AF

Your tits ache under your lover’s warm touch. Hot and heavy, a side effect of the herbal tisane you brew to keep your anxiety at bay. Sure, you aren’t anxious anymore, but your tits hurt, and you’re so fucking horny that you think you might actually die if you don’t get what you need.

You’re straddling Tommy’s lap, feel the hot, heavy weight of his cock pressed between you as you run your fingers through ink black curls, let him kiss down your throat, to the soft curve of one breast as two of his thick, callused fingers explore your drenched cunt.

You’re soaking his fingers, his lap, his cock when he drags you along it. Your tits ache again, and you whimper.

“Tommy…” you whine, “hurts…”

“Where does it hurt, honey?” He mumbles into your skin, nuzzles into the soft skin of your tits; he can’t help himself; your nipples are so hard, begging for his mouth. He doesn’t wait for an answer before he sucks a pebbled nipple into his mouth, biting down gently.

You moan as his skilled tongue circles the bud, as one big hand moves to massage the sensitive skin as he sucks.

A sudden burst of sweetness hits his tongue, and he moans, low and deep against your tit as he sucks harder.

“Oh my god…” you feel your cheeks burning as you realise what’s happening; then you feel his cock throbbing between you and you realise. He isn’t remotely turned off by this. Not remotely. No. He’s into it. Badly.

Without removing his mouth from your nipple, he slides his fingers out of you, presses them wordlessly to your mouth. Obediently, you suck them clean, moaning at the taste of yourself.

“Fuck,” he groans against your tit, releasing your nipple with a lewd pop, “honey, if you don’t come sit on my cock right fuckin’ now…”

He shifts you, both hands on your hips to lift you up, notch the thick, blunt, dripping head of his cock at your cunt before he pulls you down, head tilted back, eyes half closed as he feels your velvet soft walls envelope him.

“Thaaaat’s it, honey, you take my cock like a good girl…” he groans, eyes still half closed as he leans down, scooping the warm flesh of your breast into his big hand to drag back to his hot, greedy mouth.

You cry out for him as he sucks insistently at your tits, alternating every now and then, massaging the soft globes as you bounce on his cock.

It’s lewd and filthy; you’re entirely naked in his lap, while the only thing out of place on him is his hair, which you’d pulled out of its messy bun at first opportunity, wanting nothing more than to run your fingers through it.

It’s the only mark you can give him. You hope that when he’s at home with his bitch of a wife later tonight and brushing out those curls, he remembers you dragging your fingers through them. Hope he remembers how tight your pussy is around his cock. How blissed out and pussy drunk he looks right now, massaging your tits while he drinks you down like a fine wine.

“Tommy Tommy Tommy -“ you chant his name like a filthy prayer as he ruts up into you, the thick curve of his cock kissing your cervix with each thrust.

“You’re gonna make me cum, honey. That what y’want? Want me t’ suck these sweet tits until the ache goes away? Want me to fill up this pretty pussy?”

“Fuck, yes!” You cry out, so loud he has to clamp a hand over your mouth.

“Dirty girl, ain’tcha honey? You wanna get caught, don’cha? Wanna be caught stuffed full of me…”

He’s mostly rambling to himself now, reaches down between you to rub at your swollen clit with an expert thumb; playing you as well as he plays that guitar of his.

You whimper, because he knows you too well, but your response is cut off by following his gaze to your now neglected tits, to the beads of pearlescent liquid that are gathered and slowly dripping down the curve of your breast.

He groans again; it’s more like a sigh as he leans down, the tip of his tongue catching the droplets as he chases the stream, little kitten licks to your over sensitive nipples that make your cunt clench around his cock as he ruts into you.

“Tommy; I’m gonna -“ you whimper, fingers balling into the fabric of his shirt; you wish you could drag your nails up the solid muscle of his back, but that would raise far too many questions, so you hold back.

“Yeah, honey? Makin’ you feel good? Go on, darlin’, go on and cum all over my cock.” His low voice and the feeling of his cock filling you, kissing your womb, the fresh memory of his greedy mouth on your tits, is enough. More than enough.

Your pussy clamps down on his cock as you cling to him, shaking and whimpering as you ride out your release.

“Ohhh, fuck, Tommy, please-?”

He knows what you want before you even vocalise it; his hot, sweet mouth is back on your tit before you can ask, suckling greedily, relieving that strange, hot ache as he starts to chase his own release now.

The room is silent; only your breathy, mewling pants as you come down from your climax and swiftly reach a second, writhing in his arms as you do. The sounds mingle with his hips smacking firmly into yours, his muffled groans of pleasure, and the lewd suckling sounds of him drinking down the sweet nectar that spills from your tits onto his waiting tongue.

“Fuck, honey,” he groans as he pulls away, leans up to kiss you hard. You can taste the sweetness on his tongue and you whimper again, let him hold you tight against his chest as he thrusts deep, grinds his hips against yours as he spills his spend, hot and thick, into your waiting womb.

“Tommy -!” You gasp, because he’s normally so fucking careful, even if he doesn’t much care anymore.

He looks up at you with an almost devious glint in his doe brown eyes.

“I don’t mind sharing if it means I get to keep tastin’ you.”

You shiver again, but it has nothing to do with the cold. Somehow, you get the feeling he’ll get his wish.

#tommy miller #ficrec

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ariundercovers · 19 days

Text

Aaaaaa thank you so much for the reblog! I love the dynamic between the two of them so much, I hope I can find more ways to write it. I have a few ideas for future chapters that will include chucho interludes like this one - both with reader and with Javi. I can’t wait to explore his character a little more!

Thank you as always for reading and following along 💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

Standstill (Chucho's Version) Pt. X

Pairing: Series - Javier Peña x Afab!Reader (No use of y/n!) This chapter is JUST Javi / Chucho father & son realness.

Length: ~1k words

Series Summary: Chucho's been like a father figure to you since he helped you out of a sticky situation on your second day in Laredo. What happens when you finally meet his son, the former-DEA agent, who just happens to ignite you in a way that you haven't felt before?

Chapter Summary: After Chucho drops you off at home, his conversation with Javi.

Chapter Warnings: only plot, angsty fluff, use of spanglish (I provide translations!), javi being a moron

A/N: This is my first time trying out writing in Spanglish for my readers. I have translations written into the text, but I'd LOVE to know how you feel about it - does it work for you? Did it take you out of the story? And, if you're so inclined, please drop a like and a reply/reblog! I live for your feedback, and it keeps me going and keeps me writing. Did you like it? love it? hate it? I want to hear all of your thoughts! And of course, just lmk if you'd like to be added to the taglist, too!

PREVIOUS PART (VIX) HERE

When Chucho gets home, he opens the door carefully, looking around for Javi who is, of course, nowhere to be seen. He hobbles down the hallway, stopping in front of his son’s door, and sighs heavily, shaking his head as he takes a deep breath and raises his fist to rap on the heavy wood.

Javi responds to the knock quickly, opening the door up enough to fully face Chucho with a miserable look plastered across his face.

“Mijo,” Chucho drawls, head cocking to the side. “Qué hiciste?” (what did you do?) Javi just shakes his head, shoulders falling in a somber release of whatever bravado he had been holding onto desperately. He drops his line of sight to the floor and opens up the door a little wider before he flops onto the end of his bed, holding his head in his hands.

“No sé. I don’t know what I did… I don’t know how to fix it. It all happened so fast. I messed up, Pops.” Chucho takes a seat at the small writing desk next to the door and reaches out to clap a hand on Javi’s shoulder, giving it a heavy squeeze.

“I gathered that much, Javier. What did you do?” Javi looks up at him blearily, back hunched uncomfortably, and takes a slow, deep breath.

“She asked me about marriage, and kids, and houses, and I just… I fucking panicked.” Chucho raises a brow at him and chastises him lightly, simultaneously trying to lighten the mood and give Javi something else to focus on.

“Language, Javier.”

“Sorry, Pops. I just panicked. I lost it. I didn’t know how to… Coño. Soy un pendejo, Papi.” (fuck. I’m a moron, dad.)

“Sí, tú eres.” (yes, you are.) Chucho chuckles lightly at Javi’s admission, but pushes it down. He doesn’t need to add insult to injury. “No lo quieres? No la quieres?” (do you not want it? Do you not want her?)

“No, no, no, Pops, I… La deseo. La deseo mucho. Pero me dije a mi mismo… after Mami, you know… I told myself I wouldn’t let myself get to a place where I could feel that pain again. I promised myself I wouldn’t.” (I want her. I want her so much. But I told myself…)

Chucho nods in understanding and lets his hand drop from Javi’s shoulder.

“So you’re pushing her away out of miedo, mijo. El miedo no es forma de vivir.” (fear, son. Fear is no way to live.)

“Qué más puedo hacer?” (what else can I do?)

“El amor verdadero vale la pena. Cada vez. No importa lo doloroso que sea.” (true love is worth the pain. every time. It doesn’t matter how painful it is.)

“Y con Mami? That was worth it?” (and with Mami?)

“I would go through it all over again, for even un segundo más con tú Mami. Por supuesto, it was worth it.” (a second more with your mother. Of course,)

Javi sighs and looks up at Chucho, eyes pleading. “Then how do I fix it? I messed up, Pops. Yo no sé how to fix it.” (I don’t know)

Chucho nods again, reaching out to squeeze a knee, this time. “You’ll figure it out. You love her. I can see that clearly. And she loves you. That’s even more clear to me. If this is meant to be between you two, pa’lante. Pero necesitas hablar con ella. No funcionará si guardas todo dentro, if you hide things from her. That’s how… well, that’s how things ended up the way they did.” (keep going. But you need to speak with her. It won’t work if you keep everything inside.)

Javi’s eyes snap up to his fathers, and Chucho can only hope that he understands what he really means. He doesn’t think he has it in him to say it aloud, not right now.

“You had no idea, did you, Pops?” He shakes his head side to side, somberly and sighs.

“I didn’t. Maybe if she had talked to me, if she had let me in, I could’ve gotten her help, or something. Tal vez si prestara más atención...” (maybe if I paid more attention…)

“No, Pops. You were always the most attentive husband. Anybody could see that. I could see that. It's part of why I'm so afraid of all this… I don't think I can live up to the standard you set for me. I don't know if I have it in me.”

“You do, Javier. I’ve seen how you are with her. You just have to hold onto it when things get tough, just keep a tight grip and don’t let go. Sé que lo que ustedes dos tienen es real. No dejes que eso pase por nada. Hablar con ella.” (I know what the two of you have is the real thing. Don’t let that go for anything. Talk to her.) Javi heaves out a heavy sigh, shoulders relaxing as he forces himself to sit up a bit straighter, the position starting to pinch something in his back.

“Okay. Sí, Papi. Lo haré. (Yes, dad. I will.) I’ll figure this out.”

“Give her some time, but then you have to step up and own up to it, yeah? Don’t let this one fall through your fingertips. Nunca te perdonarás a ti mismo..” (you’ll never forgive yourself if you do)

“Yeah. I get it. Gracias, Pops.”

“Any time, mijo. I like it when you talk to me. You know you can, whenever you need to, right?” Chucho is trying his best to tread carefully, to not overstep into the love life of his very-much-an-adult son, but he can’t help it when it’s so clear to him what’s going wrong, what potential he might be wasting if he doesn’t get his act together, at least in some capacity.

The truth of the matter is that he’s never seen Javier so happy, so at peace, as he is when you’re around. That means something - it means a lot, really. He just hopes Javi has it in him to fix this.

A/N: I know this is short - but I really wanted to explore this idea and this relationship a little bit more, and it felt right to keep it on the shorter side. I hope you still enjoyed! Next full chapter will be out soon. <3

xoxoxo

Taglist: @amyispxnk @picketniffler @kirsteng42 @vee-bees-blog @samiamproductions @grippysockedtoebeans

(lmk if you'd like to be added!)

#comment reblog

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ariundercovers · 19 days

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This was simultaneously hysterical and hot all at once and I’m so very very glad you wrote this 😂😂😂

The perfect fic to wake up to!!!!

Red Bred Redemption

Joel Miller x AFAB!Fem!Reader

Masterlist

I'm phasing out my taglist

Summary: You don't want kids, but every time you ovulate you beg him to breed you... Joel can't stay strong forever.

Warnings: DUB CON but like. This is mostly a goofy thing, I'm not trying to be poetic. Reader cries when Joel wont fill her up and claims he doesn't love her when he won't fuck her, which is manipulation. Joel knows reader doesn't want kinds most 29 days out of the year, but cums inside anyway. Neither of this is healthy in a proper relationship but this is fanfiction. They love each other and are happy. Rough sex, mild choking, dirty fucking talk, creampie, BREEDING KINK, PIV sex. Brief mention of religion and prayer, but it's Joel, a canon baptist if I'm correct

Immersivity: Reader is fem, afab, and can theoretically have children. Reader is able bodied. I think that's it?

***************

Joel sat in his driveway in his truck, staring at his house. He looked down at hi dick in his pants. “My guy, we’re in for it now”

He’d avoided coming home all day. He sent Tommy home early to go fuck some chick he met at a rodeo just so he had an excuse to stay longer. He ran errands. He called Sarah. He did everything he could to avoid the sexts you were sending him.

Joelie Polie Olie: Hey baby, how’s your day going?

Baby: Let’s both take the day off so you can put a baby in me.

Joel had sighed, seeing that text and knowing what it meant. You were ovulating. Once a month, on the peak of your ovulation, you are, if he’s being real, insufferable. Like, completely unbearable. It wouldn’t be a problem, honestly, if he could fuck you silly and stuff your sweet little hole full of jizz, but he couldn’t. You and him had said no kids, even if he secretly wanted another. Sarah and Ellie were his life, how could he not? He tried to bypass the comment.

Joelie Polie Olie: Are you having a hard day at work?

Baby: *Image*

God fucking dammit why are your panties drenched at work.

Joelie Polie Olie: I like that color. You eat lunch yet?

Baby: I’ll eat your dick.

Joelie Polie Olie: Well I hope you packed something a little more nutritious

Baby: A little more nut-ritious!

It was like this all day. Joel know as soon as you knew he was home, you’d be climbing him like a tree, begging him for dick when you knew damn well you and him were strictly tracking and pull out, Joel would try to negotiate a condom, you’d insist you wanted to get bred. How was Joel supposed to resist that? He’s only human!

“Baby?” Joel called, entering the mudroom. “”M home!”

There was silence. Then a thud, squeal, running. He could track the sounds of your feet and crashing into things until you reached the stairway. It was not surprising for you to run to him when he came home. What was surprising was that you appeared at the top of the stairs Winnie the Pooh style; T-shirt, no pants.

"JOEL!" You run down the stairs and into his arms. Immideitly, you begin kissing him with tongue. You grab is hand, putting it between your legs- fuck, you were drenched. Been waiting for you all day!"

"Jesus darl'n," Joel scoffs, unable to help the bulge growing between his legs. "Were you touch'n yourself?"

"Oh my god, only for the last fucking hour. I read so much Moon Knight fanfiction, you have no idea!"

He did have some idea, because you liked to tell him about whatever series you were reading at any given time. It was honestly one of his favorite breakfast conversations. Didn't require him talking outside of an occasional "oh?" and a question to prove he was listening. He felt like he was getting to speed read stories he didn't have time for otherwise, like Ellie using sparknotes to cheat, or um... to assist her in writing a better essay.

“Fuck me” You mutter against his lips, even as he tried to keep you at distance. “Fuck me again and again and again until I’m pregnant with triplets”

“Baby, we’ve been through this, you don’t want kids-”

“JOOOEEEEELLLL” You go for his belt buckle, but Joel knows your weaknesses, taking you by the throat. He didn’t squeeze or choke, just holding you far out against the length of his long arms, preventing you from reaching him.

He spoke sternly. “No.”

You break down sobbing. “Y-ou d-d-d-don’t l-uh-uh-ve meeeeeeee!!!!!” You cry. The Adlers could probably hear you at this point with your loud heaves and sobs and sniffles. God dammit.

“God dammit darl’n, you know that ain’t true- baby please stop- c’mon now- Oh for fucks, c’mere.” Joel let go of your throat, opening his arms for a hug. Instead, you ran to him, dropped down on your knees giggling and undoing his belt.

Joel sighed, letting it happen. How was he supposed to resist when his beautiful woman wanted to fuck him?

He’d just make sure to pull out.

An hour later you were crying again, on his dick this time, begging him to cum inside.

“For fuck’s sake” He grumbles, watching your tits bounce as he slapped onto your wet little cunt. “No, I ain’t-”

You choke a sob, rubbing your eyes with the heel of your hands. “Pleasepleaseplease!!” You kick your legs in frustration. “I want a baby!!”

“No, yuh don’t” Joel thrusts into you extra hard, causing you to cry out in pleasure and your stomach clench. Joel tried not to think what you’d look like pregnant, your stomach swelling with his baby, tits filling with milk, that pregancy glow- oh fuck fuck fuck don’t come yet, gotta pull out, gotta remember to pull out.

“Joel please! I’d make such a good mom, wouldn’t I? Don’t you think I’d be a good mom?”

You would, you were great with kids, loved them. Why didn’t you want your own again? Shit, stay focused brothers, we must! Remain! Focused!

Joel looked down, watching your cunt swallow his cock, so wet and needy and just fucking sucking him in. So pretty, all of you from head to toe he just wanted to mark your body up for himself, he wanted to relish in your stretch marks, the way your body moves to make room for him like you are right now, making room for his cock to rearrange your insides. The tip of cock is so close to kissing your womb, he knows if he just bent your legs…

“Joel I want a baby! Our baby! You’re such a good dad, don’t you want a baby? Don’t you wanna knock me up? Don’t you wanna cum inside me like the little cumslut?”

“Darl’n,” Joel growls, knelt before you and gripping your thigh for stability. He’s holding on with everything he’s god, but how is he supposed to say no when his girl is literally crying to get pregnant? “Can’t be fuck’n talk’n to me like that…”

Your eyes flash open, realizing your opening. He was in trouble.

“I’d your cumslut Joel, just a dumb girl who needs to get bred, just wanna be your pretty little wifey in pretty dresses pumping out babies for you! Wanna be filled constantly, filled my your cum, your seed, your child-”

“GOD DAMMIT!” He roared, grabbing your legs and folding you like a lawn chair. Your knee’s tucked to your chest, Joel was kissing your womb, his cock ready to fill you up, shoot you full of himself straight inside. “You want this?!” He yells in your ear, fucking you faster and harder until you were seeing stars, lines of vision blurring. You knew you got him. “You want me to fuck you full of my cum, flood your pussy until your fuck’n drowning in it?”

“Yes yes yes yes!!!!”

Joel leaned over your bent and prone body, vulnerable and submissive to his use. His body, despite his growing age and softening features, was still brawny and powerful above you and you bathe in his glorious strength. You were being taken. You were being bred.

His face was close to yours, right arm braced above the headboard and his left pinning you down; he snarls in front of you. “I’m gonna breed you until it takes, until you’re all swollen with my baby, milk leaking from your tits. I’m gonna make sure everyone knows you’re mine, that I own you, your body belongs to me!”

You cunt pulsed around him, sucking him in. You were close, teetering on that edge in pure delirium. He doubted you even knew what you were saying, rambling about wanting to be filled, begging for his cum.

Joel nipped at the delicate skin of your neck. “You’re mine now, hear me?” The curve of his nose nuzzled against your face, a soft gesture in contrast to the way he was ripping you open. “Gonna fill this sweet little pussy and I want you to scream my name.”

Still weeping, you feel him lick the wet salt from your face. You whisper, choking on tears. “Make me a mommy”

Shifting, Joel pulled you into a mating press and ravished you. You were split open, screaming, screaming, screaming as the tip of his dick hit your cervix expertly and skilled until you came on him, hard and pulsing and floating.

Joel growled loudly, shouting as he came inside you. Rope after rope of hot, sticky cum coated your insides; he was claiming you, owning you, making you his. You wanted this, you want him to breed you, to fuck you full. Joel could feel his balls drawing up, he could feel every sensation in IMAX as your greedy little cunt sucked up every drop. No one way you were walking out of this not pregnant. Your legs shook as he laid you down, resting them on the soft bed once more. He kissed your cute little dazed face.

“Hey, wake up sleepy pie.”

Your eyes flash open, then you glare. Oh no.

“What did you do!!”

Joel rolled his eyes, his cock still keeping you plugged up. “You were begg’n me for it, constantly.”

“You were supposed to be stronger than me when I’m ovulating! I’m just a girl!!!”

“AND I’M JUST A GUY!”

“GET YOUR DIRTY DICK OUT OF ME!”

Joel chuckled, pulling out of you and watching his cum leak out of you. Beautiful. “Shouldn’t tempt fate, sweetheart.”

He kissed his way down your chest, stopping at your stomach. Hands over your womb, he kissed the fat, then whispered something against the skin.

You pause at a few key words. “Joel, are you-?” You prop yourself up on your elbows “ARE YOU PRAYING OVER MY STOMACH!?!?!?!?!?!?”

***********************

this one goes out specifically to @ariundercovers and @lumoverheaven thank you for your encouragement and work shopping. I wanted to write a breeding with Joel, but the idea of the "your insuferable when you ovulate" and "i dont want a baby but I want joel to breed me" came from both of them together <3

I love you all!!! This is for all of us who want Joel to give us a baby but not really but kinda but breed me but no baby but-

If you watched the Mindy Project and that last bit of my thick sounded familiar that’s because I definitely made a reference to it lol in the Mindy project Mindy doesn’t want a second child. The guy she seen does so he comes inside and then praise over her belly because he’s Catholic lol, I thought that was an insane thing to put in a series but it’s Mindy Kaling

I hope you all enjoyed it!

If you like breeding, check out

Room's on Fire: Triple Frontier boys run a cult and need a virgin to bare them a child. You get fucked by all 4. Creepy cult vibes

Blessed be the Fruit: Handmaid's Tale AU. You're Joel's handmaid. Oh, you fuck Tommy and Tommy's handmaid too.

Don't You Worry Your Pretty Little Mind: One shot, Joel slowly breaks you down into his pretty little housewife. You are a good girl, after all.

@fandxmslxt69 @moriartyyouwhore @charethcutestory02 @hellfire-state-of-mind @hereforthepedrofanfic @alwaysmicado @noisynightmarepoetry @morallyinept @kyloispunk @dins-riduur-anthe @princesslunarebloger @survivingandenduring @uncassettodiricordi

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ariundercovers · 21 days

Text

🫠🫠🫠

This was so hot omfg

Don't You Worry Your Pretty Little Mind

DBF!Joel Miller x Fem!reader

Sugar Daddy Joel, No outbreak

Masterlist : Taglist

Summary: You need money for next semester. Luckily, your dad's rich friend's eyes follow you were ever you go, and he thinks you're such a good girl.

Warning: DUB CON VIA BRAINWASHING AND MANIPULATION: The sex is v consentual, the breeding is worn down. Breeding kink, age gap (30 ish years), Joel's obsession with gender rolls. The gender rolls and sentiments expressed by Joel and eventually reader are not mine. You do not need to be a mother or wife or care for children to be a good girl. Joel is controlling and manipulates reader away from friends and keeps her financially in the blind but he does not hurt her. If you like this and are okay with DARK DARK DARK you might like The Wrong Way on my masterlist bc Joel housewifes little one up. Cream pie, fingering, oral, but its not super smutty. Most is implied.

Immersability: Joel can pick up reader, reader can have kids theoretically.

This born of me being under extream stress rn and wanting all my thoughts out of my head.

*******************************

Joel was broad, sweaty, and all consuming over you.

His thrusts were growing erratic, sloppy, but that was okay; he’d made you cum 4 times already, so it was his turn. You had no idea how someone his age had so much stamina while you got winded walking up a flight of stairs, but were too tired to think much further on it. As it was, you were falling asleep as his rhythmic thrust rocked you. It wasn’t that you were bored, it was that you were completely and totally wrecked. Spent. Fucked to sleep.

“Please baby, please? I need to cum inside you, need to make you mine.”

“I am yours.” You insisted quietly, fucked out head unable to stay up and nodding to the side. You needed sleep.

Joel continues to grunt, to plead with you. “Not yet, not until you’re stuffed full of my cum, not until your belly swells with my baby…”

It was supposed to be one time. You were so, so close to having enough money for another semester of college… but not enough. You’d been late on payments so often your school required it upfront for you now, and you were just short.

“Hey hun, you alright?” Joel let himself into your family’s home. He had a key right now, with your parents vacationing in Europe the last couple months and gave Joel a key to watch over things. To watch over you.

You check yourself in the mirror once again, everything needed to be perfect, so you shout down the hall. “One moment, sorry!”

“Take your time, darl’n.”

Re-apply lipstick. Wait, no, too much lipstick. It’s too try hard, take some off. Fuck you smugged it! Touch out your cover up, then the lipstick again. FUCK ITS TOO MUCH! Oh fucking well, your were whoring yourself out, might as well look like one. Straighten your dress. Tits out.

You tried to act casual. It wasn’t unusual to see you dressed up for dinner, your parents were big on dressing for dinner especially when guests were over, and Joel had been a friend guest. Him and your dad were close friends ever since your dad represented Joel in his divorce, getting him full custody of Sarah. It ended up being pointless anyway, as his ex-wife stopped taking Sarah for her weekends a year into the divorce. Sarah had been just a pawn for her, but Joel loved her, taking care of everything she needed for college. His business had taken off, moving from not only construction to full on housing and property developments, so he had paid for her college and was paying for her dream wedding as well. You were invited, although you’d only met her a few times. Your parents, despite their success, had no interest in helping you with college when you rejected pre-law in favor of early childhood development, so you’d been paying your own way.

Joel had defended your life choices when your dad attempted to publicly embarrass you, your dad stating that you ‘don’t fucking listen’ and were an ungratful, disobidiant brat at a dinner party, but Joel wouldn’t hear it. He said you were ‘a good girl’, and that it was a beautiful thing to see a woman who cares about children, still in this world. He praised your efforts and your determination.

“Thank you for coming, Joel.”

Joel stands as you enter the room. “Of course, a pretty girl invites me to dinner, how could I say no? Everything's alright here, no one’s giving you any trouble are they?”

“Yes, everything is good, thank you.”

“Anything need fixing while I’m here?”

“No, thank you. Come on, diners ready.”

You lead him to the kitchen, and you don’t miss the way his eyes trail down as you pass. This is what you were counting on.

Joel was quick to praise your food, not holding back on compliments. “This is delicious, sweetheart, you really got a skill here.” and “You’ll make some man very happy one day.”

That last one made you swell with pride. You were happy he thought of you as wife material. What you were about to do wasn’t very “good girl” of you, however. Joel always called you a good girl, while your dad thought for sure you were taking an ‘easier’ major to allow more time for partying. You wanted Joel to think you were good.

After dinner, you and Joel sat down with coffee and a cherry crumble, smoothing your dress over the couch. Conversation was light, easy. It was always easy with Joel, despite him making you nervous. He was just so fucking handsome, so fucking strong, and the way he talked about sarah with a twinkle in his eye… you know he was a good dad, a loving dad. The few times you met Sarah, Joel always took care of her even in adulthood. He gave her gas money she never asked for, told her she looked beautiful, and his face always beamed with pride when he looked at his daughter. He always hugged her goodbye, even if he’d see her tomorrow. Your father hadn’t hugged you in years.

“Is there a reason you brought me here tonight?” Joel asked, sipping his black coffee with a bit of splenda in it, a splash of the dark liquid remaining on his mustache until he dabbed it away.

You squirm a bit in your seat. “Well, yes, actually. Not that I don’t enjoy your company!” Was your fast addendum.

Joel chuckled, smiling into his mug. “Don’t worry sweetheart, I ain’t one of those old men that have delusions of pretty young girls wanting to spend time with them.”

“That’s not it!” You stand quickly, fluttering over to where he sat on the couch and plopping down. “I swear, Mr. Miller, if you say no, I’d want you to stay and finish dessert, I enjoy spending time with you, just as we are.”

Joel was struggling more and more to stave off his orgasm, but he needed this. He couldn’t just cum in you, although you wouldn’t resist and he doubted you’d throw a fit. He had you too wrapped around his finger by now. Young, sweet, naive thing that you were… but Joel needed you to want this too, Joel needed a life with you at his side, his pretty wife, mother of his children… starting tonight.

“Joel, nooooo…” You mutter, tired and worn out. He made sure to get you like this; compliant. “I have to finish school, Joel…”

“Sweetheart, it’s okay. Just tell me what you need, I’m sure we can work something out.”

You wring your hands in your lap, suddenly aware of your proximity to him. He smelled like leather and sandalwood.

“Well, as you know I’m in school…”

He nodded, setting down his drink. “That’s right, Early Childhood isn’t it?”

That made you light up, turning to actually look at him and finding his kind eyes on you. “Yes! I can’t believe you remembered!”

“I remember your dad ranting about it. I told him he shouldn’t have been surprised, good girl like you, wanting to take care of children.”

You nod quickly. “Yes exactly! My school offers a minor in special needs which I added too.” You were happy with his approval of your choice and added that fact on to make you seem more noble. This was a good cause he was investing in. You were a good girl who wanted to help children.

“My oh my, darl’n…” Joel mused. “You really are a sweetheart, aren’t you? Now, what can I do to aid such a valiant effort.”

“Well, school starts this month and I’m close, I’m so, so close to having enough but even with the overtime, it’d looking like I’ll be short about $500 for tuition, and then there’s books and supplies and-”

“Now wait a minute, little lady.” Joel held up a hand, and for a moment you’re disheartened and think he’s about to reject your ask before it’s even out, but his furrowed brow is for another reason. “Your daddy ain’t help’n you pay for school?”

“No sir… not since I refused to go to pre-law.”

“Well that ain’t right… I know how much he makes, he can pay for a few months in Europe but not your school? Fathers are supposed to take care of their daughters.” He looked genuinely disappointed.

Shrugging, you chuckle nervously. “Well, I suppose he doesn’t think it’s very useful, so he doesn’t want to pay for it.”

“You graduate before the second semester.”

“But my dad”

“I’ll handle your dad”

“What about Sarah?”

“I’ll handle Sarah.”

“But the money-”

Joel stopped, mid trust, his cock buried inside you and trying his best to stave off his orgasm.

“Sweetheart… Don’t you know I want to marry you?”

Joel had known Mike wasn’t the most attentive father, but he never thought it was this bad. He always thought you were a good girl, kind hearted and calm, empathetic and caring. It had only been this last year that he’d begun to see you as something more, something seductive, yes, someone who he thought about fisting his cock at those lonely nights, but, that wasn’t the full picture either. You were a caretaker… Maternal.

“That’s fuck’n stupid.” Joel countered, bluntly. “Take’n care of children, that’s the most important job on earth, why, your daddy should but thrilled to have such a nurturing daughter!” His voice was raised just a bit, but not at you. Didn’t your dad see what a prize he had? A woman like that, well, you were of high value. You were a treasure. His bitch of an ex wife never really wanted to be a mother, he knew that now, just like his mother. They had Sarah because that’s what you did when you were married in the 90’s. Joel fell in love immediately… she never really attached, and much like his mother wasn’t mentally present on the rare occasion she was physically… Well, his ex-wife lasted longer than his mother did, anyway. You would never leave your child like that. You would never leave him like that. “Whadya need, sweetheart.”

Your fidgeting continues. “Well… $1000… but… It’s not a loan, I was hoping to… to sell you something.”

Interesting… you had his complete attention, whatever you needed, it was yours. $1000 was nothing, and he’d much sure such a good girl had everything she needed… you deserved it.

“Whatever it it, darling girl, I’ll buy.”

He saw you taking a deep breath, hesitating at first before standing up and walking in front of him. You looked stunning in your red dress, an absolute marvel.

With a deep breath and hands folded in front of you., you answered what you were selling.

“Me.”

“W-what?” You were suddenly awake again, snapping back to reality at his words. “No, no Joel you’re just saying that…”

Joel shook his head. “I wouldn’t like about that, baby. C’mon, you gotta know how badly I want to marry you. You're my good girl. We’d be so happy together, just you and me…” A large, splaying hand on your bare belly. “And our baby…”

Joel stands up, walking over to you and towering his body over yours. “Sweetheart, do you know what you're asking?”

You look up at him and nod. “I do, Joel. Please know I understand what I’m doing.”

He shakes his head. “No, darling girl I’ll just give you the $1000, you don’t have to-”

“I want to.” You eyes shined at him, timid but attempting to look sure. “I can’t just take a hand out.”

“You can-” He reached for his wallet, but you grab his hands.

“I can’t. Joel…” You slide up to him, pressing your body too his. “I’ve seen the way you look at me… I look at you like that too.”

Reaching a hand up, Joel cups your face. “Baby…” He groans, erection growing in his pants already at the thought. “I don’t think I can do this just once… you gotta know that, don’t you? Special girl like yourself…” His eyes darted to your lips, cherry red and beautiful and oh-so inviting.

You look down at his shirt as you behind to feel up his chest. Firm muscles of hard work under the softness of age. “Well, maybe… since my dad won’t help me…” You wriggle your pelvis against his, taunting him before looking up at his brown eyes again. “We can come up with an arrangement?”

Joel was holding on by a thread. “Yeah? You gonna let me take care of you?” His thumb on your face spreads to your mouth, and when it prods are your lips, you open eagerly. Keeping eye contact with his brown orbs gone black, your nod and suck, the message clear. Yes sir.

“Fuck…” Joel mumbles his mouth encasing yours in a harsh, hard kiss and scooping you up with ease, only to lay you down on the couch. Your red dress splays and russles as he does, bending your knees so it slides down to your hips. When you make an attempt to remove the dress, rough hands stop you. “Keep the dress on.”

Your black tights, however, were ripped open to reveal white lacy underwear. “Uh fuuuuck..;. So beautiful…” He marvels at your pussy, so perfectly groomed for him. Falling to his knees on the floor, Joel mouths over the clothed core, his breath adding to the heat as he explored you.

“You don’t have to-”

“I know damn well I don’t.” Joel snaps. “I don’t want to, sweetheart, I need to.”

With that, Joel ripped off your underwear with two hands and dived into you. He couldn’t help but palm himself over his pants as he did. You just tasted too good, and he was a starved man.

His thrusts continued, but with a different rhythm this time. Eyes sharply on yours, he drew back slowly but thrusting in hard. Slowly, hard. Less slow, more harder. Less slow… you were going to come again, eyes never leaving his for a moment.

“Everything you ever need, everything you ever want, I’ll take care of. I’ll provide for you, I’ll love you, protect you, I’ll care for you… only thing you ever need to do is take care of me and this baby, okay? That’s it.”

You were dizzy, you were worn, you were on the precipice of climax and you were in love.

“Okay.”

His eyes light up, a smile spreading on his face. “Yeah, baby? You lett’n me fill you up?”

Joel knew you were ovulating. Of course he did. Joel tracked your periods to make sure he always knew what you needed. Heating pads, tea for bloating, pads and tampons and cups. He said he wanted to know so that he could take care of you emotionally.

Of course he knew when you were ovulating.

The next two hours were a blur of bliss, Joel taking care of all your needs, physical, sexual, even emotional.

At the end, a $2000 check was written in your name and a tender kiss on the head as he parted as well as plans between you to for next time.

For the next several months, ‘next time’ became more and more frequent, more and more demanding but a higher and higher price. Joel began to take care of it all. Your apartment, your food, every single need or want was handled by Joel, and in return every free moment was spent with him. You didn’t desire to see your friends. They just wanted to party. But you, you were serious about your passions. You were serious about helping people. Joel may have mentioned it once or twice when your grades were getting worse, suggesting instead of studying with them, you study at his place. He’d keep you on track. Quickly, your grades improved, and you began studying with Joel more and more. You eventually just stayed with him.

It was like a dream, you had everything you needed, including Joel who whispered his love to you every chance he had. Joel took care of you in the way your father never did, Joel filled those gaps he left.

Joel took away every in convenience. He told you when your friends weren’t good for you, he cooked for you on late nights, he even began making appointments and getting your car fixed. Your parents were none the wiser, but you began to care less what they thought. Only Joel mattered, and the children. Joel took away every worry for you, and all you had to think about was making him happy, and what to do with your upcoming degree.

“Yes Joel.” You whine, desperate to please him, desperate to remain his everything as he is yours. “Wanna be your wife, wanna have your babies, please?”

“Oh fuck,” He panted, holding on by a thread as his brows pursed together. “Gonna fuck you full, little mama.”

Your orgasm hits you, crashing waves causing you to cry out in a rigid scream. “Joel!!!” Your fingers claw bloody on his back. “Make me a mommy, please?”

“Ohhhhh, fuck yeah baby, good fucking girl, gonna put my baby in you, yes, yes yes, FUCK YES!” Joel growled and unloaded into you, painting your inside in his cum and filling you to the brim before collapsing onto you. Heavy and overbearing, Joel consumed your body and every thought in your head and soon, your body and entire life will make room for him.

Your mind reeled, the reality of what just happened setting in. At 22, you were at peak fertility… were you pregnant?

“Joel?” You ask, still clinging to him desperately.

“I know exactly what you’re worried about, and what do I always tell you?”

You smell his neck, reassuring yourself with his mantra. “Don’t you worry your pretty little mind…” Joel always told you not to worry about a thing. He’d take care of it all, he’d take care of you…

“That’s right, sweetheart. I know you’re worried about what I said…” Joel’s body pulls away just a bit, tucking his forehead to yours. “I’m gonna marry you, baby girl. I’m gonna take care of you and this baby. If you’re pregnant, if you really are my good girl, I’ll marry you.” Sitting back, Joel watches his cock slide out of you with a ‘pop’ and laments the cum seeping out of you. As he pushes it back in, Joel brings you to orgasm yet again.

You were, in fact, pregnant. As your belly swelled, Joel became more and more obsessed with you, constantly caressing your belly. You graduated college of course, as you dreamed, but finding a job… it wasn’t really on your raidar There wasn’t really a need. Joel handled it all, and he said he didn’t want you dealing with that stress right now. And who would hire a heavily pregnant woman?

Joel and you married in an intimate ceremony at the 4th month mark in a small baptist church. It was your parents, a few family members of yours and a friend who two who Joel thought were good influences and Sarah and Tommy were there of course. Joel promised you a big, fancy vowel renewal whenever you wanted, but a wedding like that takes time to plan, and you both wanted to me married when you had your baby.

Joel made you happier than you ever thought possible, he took care of everything. Of course, he controlled everything too, but that was okay. You didn’t need a bank app on your phone, all you needed to know was that your debit card would go through, and you knew it would. You didn’t need the routing and account number, you didn’t need to see finances, look at insurance plans, stocks, bills, anything like that. All you needed to do was take care of your body, and soon, this baby.

“I gotta admit Joel, I wasn’t really a fan of this at the start.” Your dad announces one Sunday dinner. He had invited Tommy and Sarah over as well. Extended family. Both had been hesitant at first, especially Sarah, who was a few years older than you… but they saw how you made her dad smile, and how Joel took care of you… how could they not be happy?

“I remember” Joel jokes back.

Your dad continued. “But I gotta say, this has been good for her.”

They tended to talk about you like you weren’t in the room, sometimes, but that was okay. You were Joel’s pretty, obedient wife, and you spoke when spoken too. You were there to support Joel, not meddle in his conversations.

Joel turned to you and smiled, kissing you on the cheek and feeling your 9 month swollen belly. “She’s come a long way, but she’s a good girl, obedient. Best wife I could ask for.”

Joel spoke for you, proudly telling them how after the baby was born and you’d recovered, you had plans to put your degree to use. Not work, oh gosh no! You don't need to worry about something like that. No, you’d be volunteering at a nonprofit. And isn’t that so much better!

You wouldn’t have to have another worry in your head again, outside of being a good mother. Your could give a few hours a week to children in need and then come home to a living family without being exhausted from long days on your feet.

Everything would be taken care of.

Everything would be handled.

All you had to do was be a good girl.

************

AHHHHHHHHHHHH

I hope you guys enjoyed!!!

I am so stressed rn ive been crying for days about work stuff. I dont want to work I want to volunteer and take care of children in need and have a hot husband fuck me and and and and ANYWAY

PLease consider reblogging, it's the only way to spread fics!

I love you all, thank you to everyone whose been raching out to me

@fandxmslxt69 @moriartyyouwhore @hereforthepedrofanfic @alwaysmicado @noisynightmarepoetry @morallyinept @kyloispunk @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @princesslunablogger

#ficrec #joel miller #breeding #dub con

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ariundercovers · 23 days

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Standstill (Chucho's Version) Pt. X

Pairing: Series - Javier Peña x Afab!Reader (No use of y/n!) This chapter is JUST Javi / Chucho father & son realness.

Length: ~1k words

Chapter Summary: After Chucho drops you off at home, his conversation with Javi.

Chapter Warnings: only plot, angsty fluff, use of spanglish (I provide translations!), javi being a moron

PREVIOUS PART (VIX) HERE

Javi responds to the knock quickly, opening the door up enough to fully face Chucho with a miserable look plastered across his face.

“I gathered that much, Javier. What did you do?” Javi looks up at him blearily, back hunched uncomfortably, and takes a slow, deep breath.

“Language, Javier.”

“Sorry, Pops. I just panicked. I lost it. I didn’t know how to… Coño. Soy un pendejo, Papi.” (fuck. I’m a moron, dad.)

Chucho nods in understanding and lets his hand drop from Javi’s shoulder.

“So you’re pushing her away out of miedo, mijo. El miedo no es forma de vivir.” (fear, son. Fear is no way to live.)

“Qué más puedo hacer?” (what else can I do?)

“El amor verdadero vale la pena. Cada vez. No importa lo doloroso que sea.” (true love is worth the pain. every time. It doesn’t matter how painful it is.)

“Y con Mami? That was worth it?” (and with Mami?)

“I would go through it all over again, for even un segundo más con tú Mami. Por supuesto, it was worth it.” (a second more with your mother. Of course,)

Javi sighs and looks up at Chucho, eyes pleading. “Then how do I fix it? I messed up, Pops. Yo no sé how to fix it.” (I don’t know)

Javi’s eyes snap up to his fathers, and Chucho can only hope that he understands what he really means. He doesn’t think he has it in him to say it aloud, not right now.

“You had no idea, did you, Pops?” He shakes his head side to side, somberly and sighs.

“I didn’t. Maybe if she had talked to me, if she had let me in, I could’ve gotten her help, or something. Tal vez si prestara más atención...” (maybe if I paid more attention…)

“Okay. Sí, Papi. Lo haré. (Yes, dad. I will.) I’ll figure this out.”

“Yeah. I get it. Gracias, Pops.”

xoxoxo

Taglist: @amyispxnk @picketniffler @kirsteng42 @vee-bees-blog @samiamproductions @grippysockedtoebeans

(lmk if you'd like to be added!)

#javi peña fanfiction #javier peña x reader #javi peña x reader #javier peña #pedro pascal #fanfic #javier peña smut #narcos fanfiction #javier peña fanfiction #javier pena fanfiction #no beta we die like men #writing #pedro pascal fanfiction #chucho #chucho peña

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ariundercovers · 25 days

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My baby, my love, my boy, Francisco "Catfish" Morales.

Of course, drawn by yours truly.

Isn't he so pretty?!?!

#frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #francisco moralex x reader #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal

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ariundercovers · 1 month

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It is!!!! Truly!!! I cried SO MUCH writing this part, it took a lot out of me to get into the headspace for it. But I think it was worth it in the end. (I hope at least!)

Gosh I love how they communicated too. Why can’t all relationships communicate like that?!?!

The Bridge (When Paths Cross Pt. IX, Javier Peña x Reader)

Pairing: Javier Peña x Afab!Reader (No use of y/n!)

Length: ~3.6k words

Chapter Summary: The next morning. A surprise meeting and a long-anticipated conversation.

Chapter Warnings: no porn only plot, angsty fluff, spanish nicknames, idiots in love, references to suicide, death/references to death (external character).

A/N: If you're so inclined, please drop a like and a reply/reblog! I live for your feedback, and it keeps me going and keeps me writing. Did you like it? love it? hate it? I want to hear all of your thoughts! And of course, just lmk if you'd like to be added to the taglist, too!

PREVIOUS PART (VIII) HERE

It’s a very sleepy, stress free morning that starts perfectly - with you waking up in Javi’s arms. You don’t think either of you moved, hardly an inch, over the course of the evening. Chucho is up early to take care of the cattle, which leaves you two with an empty house and… well, virtually nothing to do to fill the time. You can only hope that he’ll be willing to talk to you, to have a real conversation about all of this mess you’ve been stewing in over the course of the week.

You’re in the kitchen with Javier, moving around him as you set out to make a pot of coffee. It’s a well-rehearsed dance at this point - you make the coffee, Javi makes the pancakes, one of few actual meals he knows how to put together. You move wordlessly around one another for a long while, and its Javi is the one who breaks the silence partway through the morning meal you’ve been preparing together.

“Care to go for a ride with me?”

“A ride?” You question.

“Yeah. Take the horses, go for the day. There’s somewhere I want to take you.”

You look over at him eagerly and you agree, of course. How could you ever say no? You’re still not sure where the two of you stand in all of this, and a conversation still hasn’t happened yet, but you figure this might be the best opportunity you have available to get him talking.

After you have your pancakes and coffee, you set out to gather up what supplies you’ll need for the day. You haven’t been on a ride this long before, so you pester Javi about what it is exactly that you need to bring. You pack yourselves a couple of sandwiches and a few drinks, stash them in a bag on Javi’s horse’s saddle, and head out to your destination which is… you’re not even sure where it is. The ranch is too big to be able to easily navigate on your own, so you just trust Javi and trot along behind him.

It’s peaceful, silent even, as you ride along one of the cow paths that laces through the massive property. When you come to a large clearing, one you’re not quite sure you’ve seen before, he slows, coming up next to you as your horses continue along.

He turns to you with an easy smile and announces, “I wanna take you to visit my mama.”

You’re shocked, to say the least. Shocked, confused, surprised, and, admittedly, a little bit concerned. Javi has never once spoken about his mother. You never asked, never pushed, because you figured it would’ve come up by now if he wanted to talk about it. You also figured he’d tell you the story of why she wasn’t around eventually, so you didn’t want to push or overstep. There were plenty of other things to talk about in the meantime.

But now, staring back at his timid but eager expression, you’re lost thinking about it. Who is she? What is she like? Will she even like you? You can feel a pit of nervousness boiling in your stomach, starting to worry already about how this might go.

But more importantly, you’re stuck on the why. Why now, of all moments, would he introduce you to his mother? After the biggest fight you’ve ever had, after literally walking out on him the other night, after Javi virtually admitted to you that you didn’t have a future together.

”Your mother?”

It’s all you can manage to say in response, taken aback so sharply by the suggestion. He nods back at you and his smile turns somber as he looks back into the seemingly empty distance in front of you.

“Not too much longer, cariño. We’ll be there soon.” He takes off on a trot again, back into the lead between the two of you. Following diligently, you watch as different gated pastures and trees and orchards pass by - some in better repair than others. You’ve only been out this far once, when Chucho gave you the official tour so long ago, now. You realize it must be a lot for Chucho to have been managing all of this on his own for so long, impossible to keep up with even the daily maintenance it would’ve required. You’re glad Javi is home to help. Chucho needs it.

You continue for some time, past the boundaries of what felt to have at least a modicum of familiarity to you. You didn’t realize how far the property went, sprawling in either direction along the river’s edge. Eventually, Javi slows once again, and you pull up next to him, watching as he dismounts with a graceful ease that you know you can’t replicate. You jump off as well, and he leads the horses over to a tree where they can graze freely while you’re here.

Looking around, you’re confused. There’s no house, or building anywhere around you. You can’t imagine where someone would live all the way out here, so you wonder if perhaps you’re making a pitstop somewhere else first. Javi breaks you out of your reverie when he reaches over, hesitantly, and laces his fingers between yours, ending with a heavy squeeze of your palm. Javi’s fingers tap lightly against the back of your hand as he leads you into the field just up ahead, and that’s when you finally see it. A few hundred yards in front of you, a large billowing tree filled with beautiful full green leaves overshadows a few small stones - they’re headstones, you realize.

Suddenly everything clicks into place. Why you’ve never been out here before, why there was no building around, why this seemed like such an odd place to meet Javi’s mother.

Javi’s brought you to his family cemetery.

Your chest tightens immediately and a lump gets stuck in your throat as you piece it all together. The only thing you can think to do is squeeze his hand with your own, pulling it into your chest so that you can hold it with both of yours for a moment. He turns, glancing over at you with a look of gentle concern, and he can see the tears welling in your eyes that threaten to spill over.

“I’m sorry if I’ve never talked about her before. It’s… hard to talk about.” You nod back at him and offer him another light squeeze before releasing his hand back into the grasp of only one of yours.

“Don’t apologize for that. You don’t need to.” He nods back at you and you fall into an easy silence as you walk the remaining distance to the headstones, just three of them placed around the tree. Two, toward the back, look older - you figure they must be a set of grandparents or similar - and another one, newer, but still well worn, sits in front. He leads you to it and stares down at the stone. You read it once, then twice, and another five or six times until it finally sinks in. She was 43, and Javi was only 19 when he lost her. You can’t begin to imagine how traumatic that must have been.

He releases your hand, then, and takes a moment to smooth out his pants first, then his shirt, pushing his hands into the pockets, like he’s trying to make sure he looks presentable enough. The tears that were brimming at your water lines slip past the barrier and roll down your cheeks when he finally speaks up.

“Hey, mami. I know it’s been a while.” Your gaze flicks from the headstone to the side of Javi’s face, another few stray tears falling from your lashes. “Just wanted you to meet this one over here.” He reaches for your hand again, clasping it tightly with his own, bringing it up to his lips to kiss for a moment before he tells her your name, and introduces you as ‘his girl.’

You smile at that. There wasn’t another word for it that worked better. Girlfriend didn’t feel right. Too juvenile, not serious enough. But you weren’t anything more than that either, not yet. It warms your heart to know that he still thinks of you that way, even after everything. Especially after the way that you walked out on him the last time you were here.

Javi starts to speak, then, like he’s talking to someone right in front of him. “I miss you. Bad. All the time. I’m sorry I don’t visit like I used to. It’s been too painful. Easier to just run away, I think. But I wanted you to meet her. Needed you to, I think.” You blink back some more tears and just let him speak, watching as he gets down onto his knees and sits back on his heels. “I hope you’re proud of me. I know I’m not so proud of me most days anymore, but I hope you are. I only ever wanted to make you happy. I miss you.”

Raising his fingers to his mouth, Javi presses a kiss to them before placing his hand gently on the earth in front of him. “I love you, mami,” he adds before standing. He pulls you in front of him, then, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind as he buries his face into the side of your neck. You can feel his heavy breathing and the way his breath breaks, like he’s holding back his own tears. There’s nothing you can do but hold tightly to him and let him ride it out however he needs to, so you do exactly that.

You don’t know how long you’ve been standing there, staring, with Javi’s strong arms wrapped tightly around you, when he finally releases his crushing grip and stands at your side once more. Reaching for your hand again, he turns and leads you back toward the horses in silence before you take a seat together beneath the tree he had them lashed to. It’s a long ways away now, but your eyes keep darting to the headstones at the base of that tree as you sit in silence. You can’t help but wonder so many things about it, how it happened, why, why here, why now.

Javi scoots in close to you and leans his head against yours, turning to press a kiss to your forehead briefly before he finally speaks up.

“I’m sorry to surprise you with this.” You sigh softly and turn so that you can look him properly in the eyes.

“No, Javi… don’t. Don’t apologize. Not for this.” He nods back at you and closes his eyes, pinching at the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb for a moment.

“I just… this is really hard for me. Trying to force myself to open up about it. But I want you to know. I need you to, I think.” You try to offer him the easiest smile you can manage, eyes softening as you reach out to place a palm gently on the side of his cheek. You can't help it but to use your thumb to smooth out a few stray mustache hairs, while you’re at it.

“Okay. Then I’m listening,” you finally respond. Javi takes a long, slow breath, looking up at the sky as he exhales before looking back down to you. He starts, slowly, like he’s thinking about each and every word as he speaks.

“My mom was the love of my life. She was… everything. My whole world. But she, um…” He clears his throat, shaking his head as he looks over toward you. “Sorry. Didn’t think this would be as hard to talk about after all these years.” He pauses for a moment longer as he blinks a few times, shaking his head softly. “My parents loved each other more than I’ve ever seen anyone love another person. Ever. It was so clear to everyone who came around them. And when she…”

His eyes flutter closed and he drops his head, taking another deep breath, almost like it pains him to do so. You can see the agony on his face, in his body posture. It’s everywhere. “When she left us, everything shattered. And I… well, I promised myself I’d do anything in my power not to feel that kind of pain again. Even if it meant pushing people away, running away. All of these things you’ve seen me do now… that Pops has had to watch me do time and time again. Everything that happened in Colombia. I thought it would be easier.”

Inching closer to him, you reach out timidly for his hand, lacing your fingers together as you offer him whatever gentle affections you can without breaking his train of thought.

“But then you showed up, and you rocked my entire world. Everything I had demanded, decided for myself, suddenly felt wrong, and I was afraid. I was afraid and so I pushed you away, trying not to let myself fall into it. But I did, anyway. You made it impossible not to.” You just smile back at him, thumb rubbing along the back of his palm.

“I’m scared, muñeca. Absolutely fucking terrified of feeling all of this all over again. Whether it's now, or ten years from now, I know it’s coming. And I don’t know if I can take it.” He shakes his head more viscerally this time, looking at you then, pleading silently. “No. I know I can’t.

“Baby…” You can’t help but answer him, try to offer him some amount of reassurance. “You’re putting on the brakes for something that you can’t even see. Something that might not even happen.” His eyes close again and he drops his head, squeezing your hand softly once.

“I know. Logically, I know that. But I can’t make that fear go away. It’s just always… there.” You sigh and cock your head to the side, hoping to get a look at his face, but you can’t manage it.

“Can you look at me, Javi?” His head lifts, eyes watery as he looks at you with the softest, most somber expression you’ve ever seen on this so often so cocky and sure of himself kind of man. You have a million things to say, but you want him to have the chance to talk through things first, before you start. So you try to open with an easy question, or so you think. “Can I… Can I ask what happened to her?”

He stares at you for a long moment before he lets out a deep breath and his lips part like he’s going to speak. There’s a tense silence between you before he begins. “She… took her own life. She never left a note, or anything. Just… did it. Left me and Pops alone to fend for ourselves.” Your eyes widen and your heart absolutely shatters for him, reaching for his other hand so you have both in your own, now.

“Javi… oh God, I’m so sorry. I can’t… I can’t even imagine.” He nods and offers you an uneasy smile as a tear slips down his cheek.

“I know. It's okay.” He reaches out with a gentle hand to wipe away the tears from your face, and you do the same for him, both of you smiling sadly at each other for the moment. “I don’t mean to be such a sap,” he adds.

“That kind of hurt doesn’t just go away, Javi. It’s okay to be a sap about it, to still feel it so viscerally.” He takes a second to think about it before he answers.

“I know. That’s kind of my point. I feel it every single day. Every time I think about her, I feel it over and over again. It’s less than it used to be, that pain has faded a little bit, but it's still there. And I can’t… I just can’t imagine going through it again. So I thought if I made these rules for myself, if I didn’t let myself get into the kind of situation where I’d have to feel that kind of pain again, that things would be easier. No strings, no attachments, just me and my own sanity, you know?” You nod, starting to understand why he’s built these walls around himself so thickly, with such tough and seemingly unbreakable materials. It’s all starting to finally make sense to you.

“Yeah, I get it. It’s a coping mechanism. Just… a really long-term one, right?” He nods affirmatively and gives your hands a little squeeze.

“Yeah. Exactly that.”

“And you’re telling me this to… explain why you won’t think about the things I asked you? Or- are you…” You can’t manage to get yourself to speak the words. Luckily, Javi swoops in and speaks them for you.

“Yes and no. Yes, because that’s why I said the things that I did. That’s the reason. No, because I… well… fuck. You, uh… you managed to burrow yourself in there pretty deep already. And the thought of losing you right now is killing me. It’s killing me. It feels almost as bad as when I lost my mom, it’s just different. And I can’t do it. I can’t lose you, not now.” His eyes are still watery as he speaks, and all you want to do is lean in and kiss the tears away, but you know better than to do that. You have to have this conversation, first.

“I understand. At least I think I do. And I’m sorry, Javi, for storming out like I did. That wasn’t right of me.” You know he’s not the only one at fault here, your reaction not being the best, either, however warranted it may have felt at the time.

“No, no… I wasn’t treating you right. You had every right to walk out on me, cariño. I shouldn’t have been acting like that.” You nod and sigh, one hand reaching out to card softly through his hair, behind his ear, before it comes to rest in your lap once again.

“You can’t just dictate things at me like that again, though. It’s not okay. This is a partnership, right? Between the two of us? We need to talk about things, talk about our wants and desires and make choices that let us both compromise a little. Make each other happy, you know?” He nods, face falling slightly.

“I know, I know. I do. I didn’t do a good job of that. I shouldn’t have ever just blurted that all out at you and then not been willing to talk about it. That was fucked up.” You smile, sitting up a little taller before you continue.

“I was wrong, too, though. Storming out when things get tough doesn’t work, either. We’ll never get anywhere if that’s my response. It was a bad reaction on my part.” He chuckles lightly and offers you a half-smile.

“Kind of warranted though, wasn’t it?” You laugh nervously for a moment and then shake your head vigorously.

“No, not to that degree. I totally lost it.” He nods, understanding what you mean, luckily.

“Alright. How about we start this over? Can I ask that of you?”

“Of course, you can. We can do this - we can figure this out. I know it.” Your face is hopeful as you look at him, wishing for him to be willing to level with you, for you both to be able to move on and keep growing from this.

“Yeah. I like that plan.” A heavy breath releases that you weren’t aware you were holding back, and it feels like the world has left your shoulders. You’re not sure how you expected this conversation to go. Likely, badly, if you’re just being honest with yourself. And the truth of the matter is that it’s gone a lot better than you expected it to. You feel lucky. Not everyone would be willing to open up to you in the way Javi just has. And you feel honored - honored to know, honored to be a part of his and of Chucho’s lives. You didn’t realize before just how much you want that.

“I’m sorry, cariño. I’m so sorry,” Javi adds.

“I’m sorry, too,” you counter.

There’s an easy silence between the two of you as you sit and just look at each other for a long while. His fingertips roam the backs of your palms and your thumbs brush softly across the backs of his. You let yourselves just bather in the long moment of silence before you continue. There’s one more hint on your mind that you have to know, have to get off of your chest.

“So can we… can we talk about that stuff? It doesn’t need to be now. Just… sometime.” He nods, reaching for the sides of your face to pull you in for a kiss. It’s the lightest, most gentle kiss you think you’ve ever had - lips barely grazing over one another’s, just enough to know that you’re both there, together.

“Yes. Te prometo, muñeca. Juntos. We’ll make those decisions as a couple, I swear it.” You smile back at him and sit up slightly, your hands overlapping his on your face. “Together, this time. No unilateral decisions from either of us, okay? I promise.”

“Okay, Javi. I promise, too. Together.”

~~~

A/N: So I know this was an intense one. I took a LOT of inspiration from some of the things Pedro has talked about regarding his own mother in this, so I'm curious if anyone picked up on that. This is the last fluff/angst chapter for now - back to our regularly scheduled smutting and fluffing soon, I promise!

xoxoxo

Taglist: @amyispxnk @picketniffler @kirsteng42 @vee-bees-blog @samiamproductions @grippysockedtoebeans

(lmk if you'd like to be added!)

#comment reblog #thank you for always reading and sending love 🥹🥹🥹#xoxo

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ariundercovers · 1 month

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Ahhhh thank you so much for such a lovely and thoughtful response 🥹🥹

It just felt right for them - she’s such a strong person and she knows what she needs, and I think they could both just TELL that the separation has been hell and they needed to be there for each other for a while.

Thank you so much, always, for reading 💚💚💚 I hope you enjoy the next chapter just as much!!!

Standstill (When Paths Cross Pt. VIII, Javier Peña x Reader)

Pairing: Javier Peña x Afab!Reader (No use of y/n!)

Length: ~3.2k words

Chapter Summary: The next week. Some shared flan, and an unexpected question.

Chapter Warnings: no porn only plot, angst, (i promise this is the last plotty angst chapter!) spanish nicknames, idiots in love, Chucho being a Dad to two idiots in love (the poor man omg).

A/N: I made a moodboard for this series! I hope it doesn't suck. I've never been great at making them. But do let me know what you think, and if you can pick up on each image! ALSO - If you're so inclined, please drop a like and a reply/reblog! I live for your feedback, and it keeps me going and keeps me writing. Did you like it? love it? hate it? I want to hear all of your thoughts! And of course, just lmk if you'd like to be added to the taglist, too!

PREVIOUS PART (VII) HERE

It takes everything in you not to start calling Javi first thing in the morning, begging him to talk to you, to have a conversation, to hear you, or something. You’re regretting the way you lost it and stormed out, too. You let your emotions cloud your judgment, acted too reactionary, in the interest of yourself and not in the interest of your relationship.

But isn’t that what Javi was doing to you, too?

You heave out a frustrated sigh, staring into the abyss of your ceiling. At least you had work today to keep your mind busy and off of this mess of a situation. Belabored, you start to sit yourself up and dress yourself for the day. It feels mindless, going about your morning tasks like this, but you think some semblance of normalcy will actually help you get through these next ten hours. You can wait until then - reach out after you’ve let yourself fully cooled down, maybe.

If he’ll even answer you, that is.

You sigh, exasperated, and quicken your pace, trying to get through every step of your morning routine as fast as possible, figuring that if you keep yourself busy with moving quickly, your mind won't have time to whirr to a stop in the case of Javier Peña.

It doesn’t work.

You bemoan every action and step you took to get here, endlessly infuriated by your own inability to test out the waters before charging full steam ahead. You realize, reluctantly, that you probably should’ve eased into that conversation rather than blurt it out in the middle of the mall food court. You should’ve pressed him for more explanation, but gently, without engaging self-defense mode right away. There are a thousand things you wish you had done differently in hindsight. You can’t do anything about it now, though, so you pick yourself up, finish making coffee, and head out the door to catch the bus to the museum.

When you arrive, your co-worker, Anne, can tell right away that something’s wrong.

“Uh-oh. Trouble in paradise?” She asks you.

“Yeah. Something like that.” You sulk your way back to your office and unload your bag and the lunch you packed for yourself, tucking it away in the mini fridge on the other side of the room. Anne slides into the office, too, and takes a seat at the chair across from your desk, looking at you with expectant eyes.

“Are you going to tell me what happened or are you going to leave me hanging? Spill.” You sigh and look at your watch - you have a few minutes before the work day actually starts, and you figure you could use some additional perspective from someone besides Chucho. So, you go ahead and rehash the situation.

By the end of it, her eyebrows are about as high as the ceiling, and her head is propped on her hand, leaning forward on the desk as if to ask for more.

“His dad drove you home? Seriously?”

“Is that really what you latched onto after all of that, Anne?” She laughs at you and sits back in her chair, arms crossing gently over her chest.

“You know you went about that all wrong, right? Even the best-seeming guy gets spooked when you start talking about marriage and kids and stuff, you know?” You sigh in agreement, shrugging slightly.

“Yeah, I know. I know now. Things have just been going so well and I think about it all the time, I thought I could just ask, you know? We’re not kids, I figured it’d be at least something he’s thought about, even not in the context of the two of us.” You sigh, melting further into the chair as you shake your head in frustration. “What do I do?”

“I don’t know. It sounds like he made his position pretty clear.” The deep, heaving breath that follows from your chest is as dramatic as it is comforting.

“I know,” you finally respond. Anne sits up and looks at you with a forceful glare.

“So you have to decide, then. Is he worth losing those possibilities for the future? Or not?”

~~~

You take the week to regulate yourself back into your regular, daily life. You go to work, focus as hard as you can for as long as possible, then you stop at the store on your way home, cook yourself a real meal, and eat on the couch, alone, in front of whatever shitty movie you’ve picked out for yourself today. You’re bored. And lonely. And still unbearably and unbelievably heartbroken.

On Friday, you’re partway through the shittiest of movies that you’ve managed to pick out so far this week when your phone rings. Picking it up quickly, you hear a familiar gravelly voice on the other side.

“Mija.”

It brings a smile to your face immediately. “Hey, Chucho. What’s up?”

“I made flan. Care to stop by for some?” You chuckle lightly at his suggestion.

“Now?” You ask.

“Only if you want to,” he responds.

“Is Javi home?” He pauses, but answers nonetheless.

“He is, but he’s moping elsewhere, as is the usual these days.” Something tugs at your heartstrings when he mentions Javi’s mood, unsure whether it’s because you feel eased that Javi’s grieving the same as you, or if it’s because it confirms that Javi does, in fact, feel something for you.

“Who would I be to say no to flan?” You can practically hear his smile through the receiver.

“Come on, then. I’ll save you some.”

You hang up the phone with a quick sign-off and get yourself dressed - at least, a little more dressed than you are now. You throw on a sweater and some jeans, a pair of shoes, and grab your keys, bounding out of the door and down the steps, toward your car parked on the street.

The busy city streets quickly shift to the winding roads you know and love so much, leading you all the way back to the Peña ranch. As you pull into the familiar property, you park in front of the house and turn off your lights before sitting back in your seat for a moment. You take a deep breath and work yourself up to getting out of the car and going inside. This was Javi’s house, afterall… you might see him. But you’re also not sure what you’ll do if he does show up.

Finally deciding that you’re prepped well enough, you open the car door and stand, stretching your arms and back for a moment before walking up to the front door of the house that still felt so much like home to you.

The door opens before you can even reach the handle, Chucho looking down at you for the briefest of moments before he’s crushing you tightly to his chest.

“Mija. I missed you.” You laugh and wrap your arms around him - he always gave the best hugs - and sigh into the embrace. It’s much appreciated, on your part. It turns out you’ve been craving human contact.

“It’s only been a few days, Chucho.” He finally releases you and holds you at an arm's distance away, brows scrunches behind thick glasses as he looks you up and down.

“A few days where I thought you might not ever come back. They felt like forever.”

“I told you, Chucho. Nothing’s gonna keep me away, I mean that.” You offer him the most genuine smile you can muster and he finally releases you as you walk into the house. Javi is, as you figured he would be, nowhere to be seen. There’s a flan sitting in the middle of the dining table and you eagerly take a few steps in as Chucho closes the door behind you.

“Come on. Let’s get you some flan.” Laughing lightly, you follow him into the kitchen, reaching for forks as he reaches for the plates. You meet each other at the table and he serves up two too-large slices of flan, one to each of you, before you take a seat, Chucho at the head of the table and you just next to him. “So I take it you haven’t talked to him?” he prods.

You sigh and shrug, unsure how to answer. “I’m not sure what I’d say. I know I should try, but I can’t shake the feeling that he just doesn’t want me.” The incredulous look he gives you makes you snort slightly.

“Oh, mija, you have never been so wrong. He wants you desperately. He’s like an abandoned, grumpy puppy dog right now. He wants you, very much. Anyone can tell.” You smile nervously at him, unsure how much he knows, and how much you really want to divulge.

“Okay. Maybe that’s true. But he doesn’t want a future with me. And, to me? They might as well be the same thing.” He sighs and sets down his fork, propping his chin on his fist for a moment.

“You need to talk to him about it. I don’t think that’s true, either. I really don’t.”

“But he told me that. Not in so many words, but he said he doesn’t want a future with me. Not with me, not with anyone, Chucho. I can’t convince him of something he doesn’t even want in the first place.” He sighs and reaches across the table to take your hand, softly.

“If that’s what he said to you, know that it was a terrified little boy speaking, not Javi.” You tilt your head, brows scrunching as you try to piece together what he means. Chucho continues. “I know he probably said something horrible. Probably out of fear. You don’t have to tell me what, because it’s between the two of you, not me. But I know him. And I know how he is. He’s my son.”

There’s that word again.

Fear.

If he’s not afraid of you, then what is it? The future? Commitment? Kids?

You look down at the already nearly-empty plate in front of you and swallow thickly.

“Okay, Chucho. I get it.” You sigh, feeling like you’re at a stalemate. “I just don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I’m supposed to reach out to him or if I’m supposed to wait for him to come to me or something in between? I just don’t know.” You rest your head against the back of the chair for a moment until you hear the sound of Chucho’s heaving sigh.

“You’ll figure it out, mija. I know you will.” You look up at him with a smile and force yourself back to vertical, reaching for your fork once again.

“You have too much faith in me.”

“No. I have just enough.”

~ ~ ~

You sit with Chucho for a long while, talking back and forth about nothing and everything like you always used to, in the days before Javi came home. It’s easy, simple, and you appreciate the companionship greatly. He lets out a yawn, eventually, and stands up to excuse himself back to his room.

“Thank you, mija, for coming over. It was getting lonely without you around.” You stand as well and walk over to him as he wraps you up in a big hug.

“Thank you for having me, Chucho. You head off to bed - I’ll clean up. I can let myself out.” He nods back at you in response with a tip of the brim of his hat and turns, hobbling off to his room. He knows better by now than to argue with you about these kinds of things.

So, you set off to start cleaning up. You wrap the flan up in some cling wrap, and set it in the fridge before you grab your plates and move to the sink, washing each of them in turn. You dry them each on the dish towel that hangs from the handle of the oven, before you decide to go ahead and just wash the rest of the dishes in the sink, while you’re at it. Less for Chucho to deal with in the morning. When you’re done, you make sure everything out on the countertop is set back in its rightful place and you straighten out the chairs at the table.

You’re sliding on your shoes and reaching for your keys on the hook near the door when you hear the telltale sound of a doorknob and then a familiar set of footsteps moving down the hallway. You stop in your tracks, unsure how to proceed, until you hear the footsteps track closer to you, eventually stopping. Turning over your left shoulder, you look in the direction of the hallway, only to be confronted with the same one you had spent the entire week pining after.

“Javi,” you huff out with a breathy sigh. His lips turn up in their tell-tale smirk, a distinct 5-o’clock shadow graced across his jawline. His hair is tousled, more unkempt than he usually lets it get. And then he opens his mouth and speaks - the sound sending a shiver straight down your spine.

“Muñeca.”

You can see something brimming in his eyes as he steps further toward you, closing the distance between you two quickly. His hands stay firmly rooted in his pockets, but he’s now in breathing distance, right in front of you. You set your keys back down and turn fully toward him, looking at him from where you stand.

“I was just, uh… getting ready to head out.” You stumble, unsure of how best to approach this conversation. Fiddling your hands together, you look away, down at your feet, as the intensity of his gaze is too much for you to bear.

“What if you stayed?” He asks. Your eyes snap back up to his, taken aback by his suggestion.

“Stayed?” You couldn’t have heard him right, right? He nods.

“Yeah. Here. With me. I know… I know we need to talk about things. I know. But… We’ll talk in the morning. I promise. I just…” One of his hands leaves his pocket and swipes across his lip, in the way it always used to - albeit much more cockily before. Hesitantly, he reaches for you, his hand cupping the side of your face. His thumb brushes across your cheekbone and you lean into the touch, closing your eyes as you take a deep breath, the contact soothing you.

You blink your eyes open at him and nod once. He waits just long enough to see that you’ve truly said ‘yes’ before he’s wrapping you up into his arms, inhaling the scent of your hair like it’s a salve. Your arms circle tightly around his torso, grappling tight to his body like if you lose your grip for even a moment you might fall away from him entirely. You can feel tears brimming at your eyelids, but you don’t let them fall. Not now. Not yet.

You can hear Javi take a few deep breaths, arms squeezing you a little more tightly with each one, until he’s reluctantly pulling away from you, hands on each of your shoulders as he looks deeply into your eyes.

“Come to bed with me?” He asks you.

You hesitate - you’re not sure what to do, exactly. Do you want to stay? More than anything, really. But should you?

You blink back at him for a while, trying to figure out how you should respond. His face looks like its just as close to breaking as yours is, though, just as close to falling apart, and that realization is enough to solidify your answer.

“Okay, Javi. I’ll stay.” You nod in agreement with your words, a small smile up-ticking on his face, and he takes your hand, leading you down the hallway. When you make it to his room, he closes the door behind you and pauses, just long enough to pull you into him again so that he can press a gentle, tender kiss to your forehead. “Here, I’ll grab you a shirt-”

You watch as he fishes an old t-shirt out of his dresser for you, handing it to you before he turns back to you, seriously. “Do you want me to…” He nods toward the door, gesturing toward it with his chin. You scoff slightly and let out a small laugh, shaking your head.

“No. You’ve seen me naked plenty, Javi. I’m not shy.” He responds with a serious look and turns away from you, tugging off his own button up as he swaps it for a plain t-shirt, instead. You realize, suddenly, that he’s trying to give you some sense of privacy - a moment to change, alone, with a sense that he’s not entitled to look right now. Not just yet.

You get to it as quickly as you can, tugging off your jeans and sweater and folding them, setting them on one side of Javi’s dresser, before tugging on his t-shirt and climbing into bed. You look up at him from your seated position, eager to get your hands on him again. You know there’s a lot the two of you need to work through here. You know there are tough conversations ahead. But you’re also damn sure that you’ll crumble if you can’t have his arms around you as quickly as possible.

Eventually, he turns around, smiling at the sight of you in his bed. “Cariño-“ he starts, “my bed has never looked more comfortable.” You offer him a sleepy smile, reaching one hand out for him as he climbs in. He obliges, even though it makes crawling the rest of the way over to you more difficult, holding your hand in his and pressing his lips to it gently. When he makes it over to you, he lays down, pulling you into his side and against his chest. He inhales deeply, much like he did when he first wrapped you up in his arms earlier, and you ratchet yourself to his side, throwing one thigh over his hips and digging your fingertips tightly into his ribcage. There’s a possibility that this might actually be uncomfortable for him, you think, but it’s too worth it to bother adjusting. You need this right now.

He reaches down to gather up the sheets and quilt from where they’re bunched on the side of the bed and throws them over you both, tucking you in gently as he makes sure you’re properly wrapped up.

“This okay, mi amor?” You nod affirmatively into his chest and hum, happily, feeling an ease that had been missing over the course of the week.

“More than okay, Javi. Thank you.”

“No. Thank you. I know we need to… talk. But this is- this is good. Just like this.” Nodding again, this time, as you settle back against him, you let the persistent beating of his heart soothe you. You have lots to think about and talk through together tomorrow - or at least you hope you do - but he’s right. This is good. Just like this. You’ll figure it out in the morning.

~ ~ ~

A/N: I guess it's more feels than angst. But still. One of the big moments I've been working up to in this series is coming next - I can't wait to get it out for all of you tio read!

Let me know what you think! Your interactions and comments and criticisms and all of it are so so so very appreciated!

xoxoxo

Taglist: @amyispxnk @picketniffler @kirsteng42 @vee-bees-blog @samiamproductions grippysockedtoebeans

(lmk if you'd like to be added!)

Next part HERE (IX)

#comment reblog

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ariundercovers · 1 month

Text

The Bridge (When Paths Cross Pt. IX, Javier Peña x Reader)

Pairing: Javier Peña x Afab!Reader (No use of y/n!)

Length: ~3.6k words

Chapter Summary: The next morning. A surprise meeting and a long-anticipated conversation.

Chapter Warnings: no porn only plot, angsty fluff, spanish nicknames, idiots in love, references to suicide, death/references to death (external character).

PREVIOUS PART (VIII) HERE

“Care to go for a ride with me?”

“A ride?” You question.

“Yeah. Take the horses, go for the day. There’s somewhere I want to take you.”

He turns to you with an easy smile and announces, “I wanna take you to visit my mama.”

”Your mother?”

Suddenly everything clicks into place. Why you’ve never been out here before, why there was no building around, why this seemed like such an odd place to meet Javi’s mother.

Javi’s brought you to his family cemetery.

Javi scoots in close to you and leans his head against yours, turning to press a kiss to your forehead briefly before he finally speaks up.

“I’m sorry to surprise you with this.” You sigh softly and turn so that you can look him properly in the eyes.

“No, Javi… don’t. Don’t apologize. Not for this.” He nods back at you and closes his eyes, pinching at the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb for a moment.

Inching closer to him, you reach out timidly for his hand, lacing your fingers together as you offer him whatever gentle affections you can without breaking his train of thought.

“Javi… oh God, I’m so sorry. I can’t… I can’t even imagine.” He nods and offers you an uneasy smile as a tear slips down his cheek.

“That kind of hurt doesn’t just go away, Javi. It’s okay to be a sap about it, to still feel it so viscerally.” He takes a second to think about it before he answers.

“Yeah, I get it. It’s a coping mechanism. Just… a really long-term one, right?” He nods affirmatively and gives your hands a little squeeze.

“Yeah. Exactly that.”

“Kind of warranted though, wasn’t it?” You laugh nervously for a moment and then shake your head vigorously.

“No, not to that degree. I totally lost it.” He nods, understanding what you mean, luckily.

“Alright. How about we start this over? Can I ask that of you?”

“I’m sorry, cariño. I’m so sorry,” Javi adds.

“I’m sorry, too,” you counter.

“Okay, Javi. I promise, too. Together.”

~~~

xoxoxo

Taglist: @amyispxnk @picketniffler @kirsteng42 @vee-bees-blog @samiamproductions @grippysockedtoebeans

(lmk if you'd like to be added!)

NEXT PART HERE

#javi peña smut #javi peña fanfiction #javier peña x reader #javi peña x reader #javier peña #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal #fanfic #javier peña smut #narcos fanfiction #narcos smut #javier peña fanfiction #javier pena fanfiction #no beta we die like men #writing #pedro pascal fanfiction

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