Did Not Know I Needed Mean!Joel Today!

Did not know I needed mean!Joel today! 😍🥵🫠

i'd rather die than give you control

boston era!joel x fem!reader

summary: you fuck up on a supply run, joel decides to teach you a lesson.

word count: 5.2k

warnings: E (18+ mdni!!!) porn w/o plot, joel is MEAN, light angst, dom/sub dynamics, little bit of brat tamer!joel, established “relationship”, oral (f & m receiving), face fucking, unsafe p in v, creampie, slight dacryphilia, light spanking, this has some dark themes so if that’s not your thing pls don’t read & let’s pretend that fucking on an abandoned couch on top of an old sleeping bag isn’t unsanitary okay???

notes: this idea came to me while listening to the song head like a hole by nine inch nails so it’s veryyyyyy slightly inspired by that, i’m honestly very nervous to post this but!!! here we go. thank you so much @javiscigarette for encouraging me to keep going with this and also beta reading for me i literally love you to pieces, and also a huge thank you to @ilovepedro for beta reading pieces of this for me as well MWAH <333

Joel hasn’t spoken to you since you got to the safe house hours ago. He’s not usually one to talk about how he’s feeling when he’s angry or upset, but lately you’ve been wishing he would. Wishing he would say more, do more after all the time you’ve known each other. But you know the moments you have together are nothing more to him than the need for both of you to take out your frustrations. You can’t help but still crave those intimate moments though. If you can even call them that. 

You’re in your sleeping bag on the couch and Joel is on the floor. Most times you two will sleep next to eachother while on a supply run, especially if there’s a bed, and always after he fucks you. When back in the qz, it's a little more complicated.

You roll over onto your side to face him, the moonlight casting just enough light into the room to see that he’s laying on top of his sleeping bag with his back to you. A quiet sigh leaves your lips as you watch his body move with each inhale and exhale. You won’t be able to sleep unless you talk to him. 

You sit up, contemplating for a second if this is a good idea before unzipping your bag and standing up from the couch. It feels like your heart is about to beat out of your chest as you slowly walk towards him, a knot forming in your stomach as you get closer. He hasn’t moved so you’re assuming you haven’t woken him up as you kneel beside him on the floor. You stare at him for a moment before speaking, eyes trailing over where his flannel is stretched over his broad shoulders. 

“Joel.” you whisper. He doesn’t even flinch. “Are you awake?” Your voice is still hushed. 

You reach your hand out to touch his bicep but freeze before making contact, afraid of what his reaction may be. Your hand finally rests on his arm, shaking him lightly. Now you can see that his eyes are open, but he still hasn’t turned to look at you. 

“Please talk to me…” you bite at your lower lip waiting for a response. 

A lump starts to grow in your throat as your mind replays the events of earlier that day. He was angry at you for not listening, there was no doubt about it, but you want nothing more than for him to talk to you now. 

“I’m sorry, what do I have to do for you to forgive me?” Your voice cracks slightly, trying to hold back your emotions as you speak.

Your chest starts to feel tight, the pain of him not saying a word is too much. You can handle him being angry with you, he sure as hell has been before, but if that means not talking to you at all you’re not sure how much you can take.

You take a deep breath and remove your hand from his arm before moving to lay down behind him. His body is radiating warmth as you lay only a few inches from him. Slowly you start to snake your arm around his torso, chest flush against his warm back. He still doesn’t say a word as you lay your cheek against him and start to rub your thumb back and forth over his soft, flannel covered stomach. 

“Joel.” You feel like tears could spill from your eyes any second now, hoping he’ll say something. Anything. 

You slowly move your hand lower, not worrying about what the consequences might be. All you want now is some sort of reaction from him, anything to show that he’s listening. Anything to get him to look at you. Your hand continues to move lower down to the waist of his jeans, just wanting to feel him. 

Suddenly, before you can even process, you feel his large calloused hand quickly wrap around your wrist. His head snaps towards you as he props himself up on his elbow, glaring down at where you lay. 

“What the hell are you doing?” He sounds pissed, maybe even more than earlier. He just stares back at you, your eyes wide in surprise. 

“I- I just-” you stutter, struggling to find words. 

“This isn’t how it works. Did you forget?” His jaw ticks as he lets go of your wrist, shoving it back towards you. 

He fully sits up now looking straight ahead and you shrink back into yourself, tears welling in your eyes, afraid of what he might say next. 

“I decide when and if this happens.” He’s breathing heavily. “You should know that by now.” 

“I know I-“ he cuts you off before you can finish your thought. 

“You obviously don’t.”

You swallow back the sob threatening to leave your throat. 

“Go sit on the couch.” his head falls to look at his lap as you scramble to stand up.

You don't dare to look back at him as you quietly walk back over to the couch. You take a seat in the middle with your hands on your lap as you wait for his next move. This is how the game usually goes. 

He shakes his head slightly before looking towards you, a darkness behind his eyes. “So now you want to listen?” 

He slowly gets up from his spot on the ground and turns towards you, standing there for a moment with his hands on his hips. His eyes are glued to the floor as he stands there for a moment thinking, but you can sense the anger behind them. As he looks up, walking towards you and stopping right in front of where you're sitting, you feel your chest start to tighten even more. You just stare down at your hands in your lap waiting for him to speak.

“Look at me.” His voice is low. 

Your head snaps up without hesitation to look into his eyes.

“Lay back, keep your hands above your head.” His accent sounds thicker than usual, voice gravely as he speaks. 

You do as he says, leaning back into the couch and raising your hands to grab the back of the couch. As you do so, Joel kneels down in front of you on the floor causing your legs to naturally part for him. He takes a deep breath before wrapping his arms under your knees, hands gripping your jean clad thighs before pulling you forward so your ass is at the edge of the couch causing you to let out a small yelp.

He keeps one of his hands on your thigh, the other moving to hover over your covered core. As he rests his large hand over your covered sex, warmth spreads through your lower stomach from the contact. He looks up at you through his lashes, dark eyes burning into yours. You feel a jolt of arousal through your core. 

His thumb grazes over the seam of your jeans, immediately finding your already sensitive clit. He knows you, knows your body even fully clothed, and that fact turns you on more. He lightly applies pressure with his thumb, rubbing in circles over your jeans. The sensation of the seam rubbing against you and the pressure of his thumb causes a moan to slip from your lips. 

“Joel…” he removes his hand from your clothed core, moving up towards the waist of your jeans. 

His rough calloused hand moves under the hem of your shirt, brushing lightly against the soft skin of your stomach. You shudder at the feeling, goosebumps covering your skin as you buck your hips up towards him. 

“Stay still for me.” He glances up at you again, it’s a warning, and your chest flutters. 

The anticipation is killing you. He moves both hands to unbutton your jeans, slowly sliding them down and off of you, leaving them in a pile at your feet. His eyes immediately lock onto the wet spot growing on your panties and a smug smile forms on his face.

“Already so fuckin’ wet, haven't even touched ya yet.” he hums, leaning in closer to your core.

He wraps one arm under your leg again, the other grabbing your waist to keep you from squirming. His nose rubs against the wet spot on your cotton panties and you bite the inside of your cheek, holding back a moan as you lightly clench your thighs around his head. Joel looks up at you again, the sight of him between your thighs so heavenly. You want nothing more than to reach out and bury your hands into his graying curls.

“Gonna listen and stay still for me baby?” His voice sends a vibration through your core as he tightens his grip on you. You struggle to keep still, nodding your head in response.

“Good, wouldn't wanna have to stop.” He's teasing you. 

He slides his hand from your hip down to hook a finger onto your underwear, tugging them down as he lifts your waist off the cushion. You suck in a breath as the cool air hits your soaked core. Joel doesn't waste any time, his hands are immediately back on you, fingers slotting through your glistening folds. He watches intently as his fingers easily slide up and down, covered in your slick. His face moves closer to you, warm breath fanning over your sensitive skin before replacing his fingers with his tongue. 

The feeling of his warm tongue darting out over your clit causes you to let out a moan. His tongue runs small circles around your nub, teasing you slowly before he licks through your folds. As he removes his mouth from you, you let out a gasp at the loss, but he quickly makes up for it by inserting two fingers into your cunt. 

“Oh god.” your head falls back on to the cushion, eyes squeezed shut and fingers gripping the edge of the couch harder.  

His pace starts to quicken, fingers curling to hit that spongy spot inside of you just right. He’s focused on his motions, mesmerized by the way his fingers disappear into your tight hole. His thumb starts to swirl in circles against your swollen clit and a soft whine escapes your mouth. 

“That feel good?” You don’t have the strength to answer. 

His free hand finds its way under your shirt to meet with your breast, fingers tweaking with your hardened nipple. Your eyes shoot back open, looking down at where he’s between your legs. His mouth is slightly parted as he watches you, watches your reaction to his movements and the way he’s touching you. You clench around his fingers, trying to hold back the urge to reach out and touch him. Trying to keep yourself still. The coil in your stomach is going to snap any second and he knows it. 

“Wanna come, baby?” He asks sweetly, so soft. 

“Please Joel, please.” You’re practically begging. 

He removes his hand from your breast and swings your leg over his shoulder, quickening his pace. His hand rests on your thigh lightly squeezing as he urges you on. He applies pressure with his 

“Close.” It’s all you can get out. 

The coil in your stomach is about to snap, Joel still isn’t slowing his pace, fingers hitting all the right places. He feels you clench around him one last time, and then suddenly you feel him pull away, the loss of his fingers causing your hips to buck forward. You let out a gasp as he abruptly drops your leg from his shoulder and stands up. 

Your eyes shoot open. “What the fuck?” You’re trying to catch your breath. 

“Did you really think I was going to let you come? After the stunt you pulled earlier?” He shakes his head, a sly look on his face as he watches you. 

Your mind flashes back to the supply run earlier that day as you clench your thighs together, hands dropping to your sides grasping at the couch cushions. A tingling sensation travels through your body, mind hazy from overstimulation. You stare up at him trying to process what’s just happened, jaw slack as your eyes start to well with tears. Joel’s hand lifts to your cheek, gently brushing his thumb against your soft skin. He drops his hand and adjusts himself, turning away from you and walking back towards his spot on the floor. 

He’s never been this mean before. Never denied you an orgasm, and the feeling is overwhelming. You knew he was mad about earlier, but you didn’t anticipate him being this mad.

Earlier on the supply run you just kept fucking up. Being too loud, careless, forgetful, you name it. The two of you were sent to check out an old strip mall that had surely been raided at some point before, but not by the two of you. He had warned you that this could be an area with raiders or infected lurking nearby and that you needed to be extra cautious, but you took it lightly, after all this wasn’t your first supply run. You had ran into trouble with clickers before and handled it well, but never raiders. 

Of course when the two of you got there, you realized you forgot your gun. It was only you and Joel this time around, no Tess, so the fact that you forgot your gun of all things wasn’t great. That was the first thing to set him off.  

“Really? How the hell do you forget your gun?” 

“I don’t know, must’ve left it on the table.” You shrug. 

He sighs. “Hope your knife skills have gotten better.” 

“Sorry…” You mumble. 

He turns away and you follow him to find a way inside. 

Once the two of you started looking around the place, you found yourself tripping and bumping into things more than usual. Bumping into a shelf, knocking an old jar over while weaving in and out of isles. Joel would shoot you an annoyed look every time which only made you more on edge. 

When you got to what must’ve been an old hardware store, Joel had found a few salvageable things and the two of you started to dig around to fill your packs.  

“Alright let’s get out of here.”  He let out a low grunt as he stood up, lifting his pack over his shoulder. 

You glanced up at him before standing up, as you stood straight up slinging your pack over your shoulder your bag hit a metal rack behind you causing it to nearly fall over. Joel reached his hand out quickly, stopping it from falling. 

“Damnit.” He said between gritted teeth. “You need to be quieter I’m not fuckin’ around.” He gave you a stern look. 

“Quieter?” You gave him a playful look. “What, LIKE THIS?” You yelled out, giggling afterwards.

Normally he loved when you were like this, a little disobedient so he could put you back in your place later that night. Show you how to behave. But right now he wasn’t having it. 

There was the sound of branches snapping outside and Joel immediately looked up, wide eyes locking on the nearest entrance. In an instant he was grabbing you, spinning you so your back was against his chest and covering your mouth with his large hand. His other arm was snaked around the front of you, holding you close. 

“Fuck.” He whispered into your ear as he pulled the both of you into another room to hide. “You really had to do this right now?” 

The coil in your stomach is still tightly wound, and now you’re pissed. You’ll just do it yourself then. 

Your hand finds its way to your puffy tender clit, running your fingers over it as you slowly start to move through your slick folds. Joel still has his back to you as he stands over where his sleeping bag lays on the floor, hands on his waist. Your fingers find their way back to your swollen clit, lightly rubbing circles. Your eyes rake over his form, his broad shoulders and the way his flannel is rolled up exposing his forearms. You bite your cheek, trying to stay as quiet as possible. As you apply more pressure, a soft moan escapes your mouth causing Joel to turn back around. 

His eyes immediately fall to where your fingers are picking up speed between your legs and his eyes grow dark, hand flexing by his side as he watches you. You don’t stop. His eyes meet with yours and your mouth falls open, pace never faltering. 

“Did I say you could touch yourself?” His brows pinch together forming a crease as he waits for a response. 

You can see his chest starting to heave as you look at him through heavy lidded eyes. Now you’ve done it, you think to yourself. 

He slowly walks back over to you, stopping in front of you, staring down at the way your fingers move so smoothly over your soaked core. He reaches his hand out to lightly grab your jaw, tilting your head up towards him. You let out a yelp as your eyes meet his, growing darker by the second. 

“Hm?” His jaw is clenched as he squeezes yours lightly before he speaks through gritted teeth. “Answer me.”

“No.” You croak out, stopping your motions and reaching to pull your underwear back up. 

“Well, don't stop now.” Your brows knit together in confusion. “Since you want to come so badly around nothing instead of my cock, keep going.” you let out a small gasp. 

“Rather have you.” You say breathlessly.

A smug smile forms on his face as he removes his hand from your jaw and crosses his arms over his chest. 

“Hm, not what it looks like.” He’s teasing you now, wanting you to beg. And you will. He knows you will.

“Joel…” You whisper, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “It’s been too long.” 

“Should’ve thought about that earlier,” He huffs. “when you were touchin’ yourself, when you were acting up on the supply run.” 

“I know, I wasn’t thinking.” You start to sit up straight, scrambling for the right words. “I said I was sorry, just need you.” It comes out just above a whisper. 

Your eyes dart to the growing bulge in his pants then back to his eyes. He’s standing right at the edge of the couch between your parted legs and you can feel heat radiating off him, drawing you in closer. He shifts his weight and his hands fall back to his sides as he contemplates what to do next. 

“Prove it.” 

You stare up at him with wide eyes, dumbstruck. “Wha-“

“If you need my cock so badly, prove it.” His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he subtly juts his hips forward. 

Your bottom lip disappears between your teeth as you soak up his last words. Without your eyes leaving his, you reach up slowly to rest your hand over where his cock is straining against his dark jeans. He takes a deep breath through his nose as you start to gently apply pressure. You inch your hands up to the hem of his jeans and swiftly undo his belt, unbutton them and pulling the zipper down in one motion before tugging them off his waist so they’re resting around his thighs. The sight of his thick cock only restrained by his cotton underwear causes you to let out a small gasp. 

You look back up at Joel for reassurance and he nods, expression never faltering. Your hands rest on his lower abdomen right above the hem of his boxers, running over the sparse hairs leading down past his boxers. As you hook his fingers into the fabric, pulling them down, his fully hardened cock springs out causing your mouth to salivate at the sight. 

Without thought, your hand immediately wraps around the thick base of his cock causing him to let out a low groan. You lightly squeeze, teasing him as you lean in closer. Your tongue darts out from between your lips to lick at the precum leaking from his silky smooth tip and he sucks in a breath. 

“Jesus.” his hand moves to rest on the back of your neck, the other caressing your cheek.

You look up at him through your lashes, tongue still on his tip as you flash him a daunting smile. You release his cock from your grip and run your tongue from the base of his tip, along the bottom of his length back to his tip before sucking him back into your mouth. The salty taste of his precum still on your taste buds as you swirl your tongue in circles and take the rest of him into your mouth in one go. Tears start to rim your eyes as the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat. 

“Good girl.” Joel praises you as he wipes away the tears starting to form at the edge of your eyes. 

Your head moves back releasing his cock from your lips with a popping sound before bringing your lips back to rest on his tip. His grip on the back of your neck starts to tighten as he begins to lightly thrust his hips forward. You slowly open your mouth, giving him access and wrapping your lips around his warm cock again. Both your hands grip onto his thighs, holding yourself still as he slowly thrusts forward again. He lets out a low groan as your mouth encloses around his thick member and your motions stop, allowing him to take control. 

“God damn baby.” Joel huffs as he begins to pull back. 

His hand caresses the back of your head guiding you as you open up wider and your nose buries into the sparse curls at the base of his cock. The tip of his cock prods at the back of your throat and you swallow trying to get some sort of relief. He holds your head there for a moment, relishing in the warm, wet feeling of your mouth wrapped around him before pulling back. Your cheeks hollow, sucking harder and he stops before the tip of his cock leaves your mouth.

As he pulls out, you watch the string of saliva connecting to the tip of his flushed cock break before he pulls you back in, swollen lips immediately parting for him once more. 

“Look at me while I fuck your throat.” His hands move to your jaw, tilting your head as far as it can go until your eyes land on his.  

You can feel tears rimming your eyes again as you dig your nails into the warm flesh of his thighs, the back of your throat is already raw. His thumbs caress your cheeks before he roughly fucks into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat once again and your eyes squeeze shut allowing the tears brewing in your eyes to finally spill over. 

“You can take it.” He continues the thrust into your mouth as he speaks. 

You open your eyes and look back at him, he tilts his head to the side as he looks down at you, and mocking pout on his face. His pace doesn’t falter, the only sound in the room is his deep voice and the filthy wet sound of his thick cock relentlessly fucking your throat. 

“This the only way I can get you to be quiet, huh? Gotta have my cock stuffed down your throat for you to shut the fuck up?” The last word comes out just as he thrusts his hips, large calloused hands nearly digging into your cheek as he lets out a low grunt.

His words cause you to let out a low moan around his cock as he hits the back of your throat one last time, and you feel him tense. His head falls back, a deep growl leaving his throat before his eyes snap back to you.

He pulls his cock out of your mouth, and before you can even focus he’s pulling you up from the couch and spinning you to lay on your stomach. You flop down, holding yourself up on your forearms as he pulls your underwear the rest of the way down, and you swear you can hear the fabric lightly tearing before he discards them somewhere on the floor. Next he grabs the hem of your long sleeve, pulling it up over your bare tits. You frantically pull it over your head and off before throwing it somewhere. He quickly pulls you up so that you’re on your knees and grabs your wrists, pinning your arms behind your back as your cheek buries into the couch cushion. 

“This what you were hoping for?” he nearly grunts as he holds your wrists in place with one hand, positioning himself over you. “Hm?” you can hear his breathing as he leans down closer to your face. 

You can’t speak, a low moan leaves your lips, but that's not enough of an answer for him. He lands a small smack on your ass and your body jolts from the contact.

“Answer me.” he says through gritted teeth. You feel him lay some of his weight against your back now and his still fully hard cock presses into you. He leans down close to your face and you feel his lips touch your ear as he speaks. 

“This what you were hoping for when you were acting up earlier?” His deep voice sends a shiver through your body, igniting the heat blooming in your core. 

You feel his weight shift as he pulls away from your face. “Hoping I would teach you a lesson?” His hand wraps around his cock, guiding it towards your tight hole, already soaked in anticipation. 

Your hips push back into him and you attempt to open your legs wider, making room for him to guide himself to your entrance, and without a second thought he thrusts into you. He places one hand on your hip holding you up, as the other keeps your arms pinned behind you. It’s fast and rough, and you can hear the sound of skin on skin as his hips snap forward, thrusting into you with all his force, taking out his anger from earlier on your cunt. This is how it always goes. You piss him off to get what you want, then he fucks you senseless until all his anger and frustration is gone, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

A small moan escapes your lips as he grips you tighter, pumping his large cock in and out of you hard enough to jolt your body forward with each thrust. You can hear him grunting above you, pace never faltering. 

“Take me so well,” he huffs. “this tight little cunt is all mine. Made for me.” His voice is deep with lust as he speaks, and it sends a burning heat through your core as a moan escapes you. 

He moves his hand from your hip, snaking his arm around your torso and grabbing onto your left tit as he pulls you back against him. He has your arms still pinned behind you as you arch your back and your upper body meets his chest. Your head falls back over his shoulder, eyes falling shut. 

“Say it.” He speaks against your cheek, lips ever so lightly grazing your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Yours.” You choke out. 

He releases your wrists and wraps his arm around your waist, your arms rest over his, gripping his forearms where his flannel is rolled up as he continues to fuck into you. You turn your face to look up at him, and you find him looking down, his eyes fixated on the way he’s pumping in and out of you. Mesmerized by the sound, the way you take him so well and the way his hips snap against your ass with every thrust. Your chest flutters and the coil in your stomach that’s been building is ready to snap any minute. 

“‘M close.” It’s barely audible, his eyes snap away from where your body’s meet to look into yours.

“Think you deserve to come this time?” His mouth is slightly parted, eyes flickering to your lips and back as you nod your head. 

“Yes, please Joel.” You breathlessly beg. 

“Did you learn your lesson?” One of his hands creeps towards your sensitive clit, your hand still gripping his forearm. “You be quiet when I tell you to, and you don’t touch yourself unless I,” he grunts as he thrusts into you. “say so.” The last part is said through gritted teeth, punctuated with a hard thrust and the sound of his hips snapping against you. 

His fingers meet your clit and he applies pressure, rubbing in tight fast circles. Your head falls back and he nips at your neck, teeth just barely brushing your skin as his tongue sets your skin. 

“Say it.” His warm breath fans against your skin. 

“I’m quiet when you tell me,” his lips latch on to your skin, lightly sucking as you gasp and your hips jut forward. He uses the hand on your mound to pull you back into him. “and I don’t touch myself. Unless you say.” 

“Good girl.” His fingers pick up speed, you nearly let out a scream as a white hot pleasure pulses through your body. 

Joel keeps moving his fingers over your clit and one of your hands flies up to bury in his hair. You lightly tug, causing him to grunt, as your body starts to feel limp. His hand wraps back around your torso, holding you up against him as he continues to fuck you, panting into your neck. He thrusts into you two, three more times and you feel his pace falter then still as he releases his load with a low moan. 

He gently falls forward onto the couch, still holding onto you as he gently lays atop of you. You can feel his warm body pressed against your back, chest rapidly rising and falling as he catches his breath. You catch a quick glimpse of him, eyes closed, lips parted and damp curls lightly sticking to his forehead. His cheeks are slightly flushed and he looks divine. 

He stays inside you for another moment before lifting off of you. You hear the couch creek as he gets up, then you hear his zipper and belt as he adjusts his pants before walking back over to his spot on the floor. You don’t move, laying there with your eyes closed as you catch your breath. After a minute or two you start to sit up, looking over at where he’s laying with his back to you again. You grab your discarded shift from the floor and slip it back on before searching for your underwear, picking up your jeans along the way.

 After a few minutes you give up and slip your jeans back on, whatever. You look down at your sleeping bag spread open on the couch, then back at Joel. It might be a bad idea, but you walk over to where he’s laying and lay behind him again, wrapping your arm around his torso and pressing yourself against his warm, broad back. You let out a sigh and he doesn’t move, and as you start to drift asleep, you feel his arm rest on top of yours. 

thanks for reading, any feedback is appreciated & my asks are open to chat <3

tagging some moots: @northernbluess @gracieheartsspedro @joelsversion @isitmeulookin4 @tieronecrush @daydreamingmiller @hearteyesforjoel @demonjoel @merz-8 🤍

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Friday Night

Summary: First time Frankie tells you he loves you and finally meeting the boys.

Part of the Parents to Lovers series, set between Paint with Me and Between Us

Warnings/Tags: MDNI, GO ON GET! Cuteness, little splash of smut, oral M!receiving, anxious reader, cussing, I think that's it but if anyone sees something I should add that I forgot let me know!

A/N: Happy Frankie Friday!!! Thank you so very much @beefrobeefcal, my fellow Frankie obsessed friend for taking a look at this and continuously helping me with my writing. @endlessthxxghts for also taking a look at this and offering your expertise much appreciated bb! Last but not least, @jay-zzle GUURRRLLLLL!!! Moodboards(like this one), story ideas, screaming with me about Pedro, thank you for meeting my delulu at the same level. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Masterlist||AO3 Link||Parents to Lovers

dividers provided by @saradika-graphics

“I’m so close,” Frankie hisses, gripping the couch cushion, knuckles turning white with the force. His cock twitches in your mouth, your hands feeling the tension in his thighs as you bob along his length, eyes looking up to watch him. His eyebrows scrunch together, chest heaving, his neck and face flushed with a crimson color.

He groans, watching your swollen lips wrapped around him as he comes into your mouth. 

“I love you.”

Your eyes widen at his words as you swallow every drop with a hum. Releasing his length with a soft pop, you crawl into his lap. You couldn't help but let your smile spread across your face. Leave it to you and your luck to have the man you are smitten with admit he loves you as you make him come with your mouth. 

Frankie's eyes remain heavy lidded as he watches you with a half-smile tugging at his lips.

"So," you giggle, walking your fingers up his chest with a cocked eyebrow. "You love me, huh?”

He grabs the back of your neck, smashing his mouth against yours in a desperate kiss.

“That’s not exactly how I wanted to tell you, but yeah,” Frankie says, neck and cheeks flushing with warmth even more.

“Hmm,” you laugh, “What a way to let a girl know.”

“It’s true though, ya know? I do love you. Definitely didn’t want it to come out that way, had thought of a better way to tell you but shit happens,” Frankie says with a shrug.

“I love you too.”

“Yeah?” he asks with a grin, “So, does that mean you’d want to meet the guys finally?”

The men are more so brothers to him than friends. He’s brought up introducing you to them before, but it just seemed too soon. It’s been five months, and things seem to be going in a more serious direction. You’ve tried to put it off, though now it seems like it might be the right time.

—

Frankie: Sitter just got here. Headed your way 😘

It’s Friday night, you’re finally going to meet Frankie’s friends, the men who mean just as much to him as Missy. Dressed in your favorite jeans, your lucky AC/DC shirt, and your sneakers, you’re pacing outside on the sidewalk waiting for Frankie to arrive.

“You’ve got this,” you mutter to yourself. If anyone were to see you they’d probably think you were nuts but you didn’t care; your nerves were getting the better of you, the voice inside your head making all sorts of suggestions like, why you picked that outfit or that you’re underdressed. “Stop that, you’re meeting them at a bar for fuck sakes,” you hiss at yourself.

You hear Frankie’s truck approaching and stop your pacing. It’s darker out but you can still see him through the windshield, that standard oil ball cap on, and the wide grin on his face when he sees you. He stops beside the sidewalk, leaning over the center console to push the passenger side door open for you.

“Didn’t think you’d be waiting outside for me,” he laughs, as you get in the cab of his truck.

“Nervous,” you shrug, giving him a quick kiss before buckling in.

“Nervous?” Frankie asks, perplexed, “About what?”

“Just nervous they aren’t going to like me,” you say quietly, picking at the skin around your thumbnail.

“Baby,” Frankie says, grabbing your hand, “You make me happy and they know that. That’s all they care about. No need to worry about anything.”

You let out a breath, squeezing his hand. You’re already feeling more calm now that you’re with Frankie. 

—

It was a short drive to the bar they frequent the most. Frankie’s told you many stories about this bar and their shenanigans there. As you enter the bar you can feel some of the tension leaving your body. It’s a nice little place, not very well-lit but it gives off a comforting vibe. There’s a jukebox in the corner, a rough-looking gentleman behind the bar, and a table where you see three men beginning to stand, waving at you and Frankie.

“Fish!” A tall blonde shouts, “You finally brought your girl!”

“I did!” Frankie says, his hand at your lower back guiding you over to his friends, “Finally talked her into meeting you assholes.”

Frankie began laughing and giving hugs to his friends before you all sat at the table.

“Alright babe, this is Will, Santi, and Benny,” Frankie says pointing to each man, who in turn raises their hand.

“So he had to convince you to meet us?” Will asked, raising his eyebrow.

“It wasn’t really like that,” you laugh, “I was just nervous is all.”

“We don’t bite,” Santi said with a smile, “Well not all of us,” he added, glancing at Benny.

“It was one fucking time. Will you let it go?” Benny grumbled, crossing his arms, “I told you if you didn’t let me go I was going to do it.”

“I’m gonna get a beer,” Frankie said, nudging your arm, “Want anything?”

“Margarita, please.”

“Sure thing,” he said, kissing your temple before leaving the table.

“So,” Will started, leaning closer to the table, “You get along with Missy?”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Santi murmured, “Ironhead, leave her alone. Remember meeting Nora at Missy’s birthday party last month?”

“Nora?” Benny asked, whipping his head towards Santi, “The one that hit me in the nuts with the water balloon?”

“She did what?!” You asked, “I’m so sorry!”

“Guys, this is Nora’s mom,” Santi explained, gesturing towards you.

“Oh fuck! I forgot you’re a MILF!” Benny exclaimed, earning him a smack from Will to the back of the head.

“Here you go, babe,” Frankie said, setting your margarita down in front of you. Immediately grabbing it to take a drink, hoping it soothes your nerves after that small interrogation from Will.

—

The conversation and drinks flow as you hear more stories about Frankie, Santi, Benny, and Will. From their time in the army and their many adventures in life after. You learn that the men have been there a lot for Frankie, his journey as a single dad, and the struggles he’s dealt with. It’s apparent that Missy is a big part of their lives just as she is in Frankie’s. They each spoke fondly of her and how much they adore her.

“I’ll be back,” Frankie grunts, standing up with a stretch, “Bout to piss myself.”

“Please don’t,” Santi laughs, “I don’t have a spare pair of pants this time.”

You give Santi a curious look as Frankie glares at him shaking his head, making his way to the bathroom.

“Story for another time, hermosa,” Santi says with a wicked grin. 

“What’s the deal with you and Frankie?” Will blurts out, once Frankie is out of earshot.

“Yeah,” Benny agrees, “What’s the deal?”

“Not quite sure what you mean,” you start, “But if you’re asking what we are, he’s my boyfriend and I’m his girlfriend?”

“No, we get that,” Will replies with a sigh, “What I mean is what are your intentions with him? Where do you see this going?”

“Jesus christ, Will,” Santi scolds, “You need to leave her alone with the intense questions!”

“I’m just a concerned friend,” Will snaps, then turns towards you, “Do you see this lasting long term or is this just a fling?”

“Well,” you start, “It’s not just a fling by any means. I love Frankie. I know you are looking out for him and are protective, I can respect that. No need to worry though, the last thing I would want is Frankie’s heart to be broken or mine.”

“Do you get along with Missy?” Benny pipes in, “You never really answered that question earlier.”

“Missy is such a sweetheart. I have her over at my house all the time to play with Nora and she loves it when she gets to stay the night,” you smile thinking about the last slumber party the girls had, baking cookies together making a mess of your kitchen, “She’s a cool kid but we haven’t told the girls yet. We want to wait until we’re more sure of where things are going if you’re concerned about that.”

Will and Benny nod, listening to what you have to say. Santi gives you a warm smile.

“Told you guys,” Santi hums, taking a swig from his beer, “Why would you question anything when Frankie’s been so positive when he talks about her?”

“Rose-tinted glasses my friend, rose-tinted glasses,” Will replies, “We’ve all been there.”

“Hey guys, I’m back,” Frankie says, taking his place beside you, “Sorry, sitter called.”

“Missy okay?” you ask, concern etching your face.

“Yeah, yeah,” Frankie smiles, brushing his hand along your shoulder, “Just wanted to tell me good night.”

“She’s so sweet,” Will smiles fondly.

“She can be,” Frankie laughs, “So did I miss anything while I was gone?”

“Not much,” Will replies, nodding his head towards you with a smile, “Finally got yourself a good one Fish.”

Frankie smiles at you, tips of his ears going a slight pink, and he nods, “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!!!!!

daddy's home [catalyst 'verse, joel miller x f!reader x frankie morales]

summary: Joel finds out about an inside joke between you and Frankie right before he goes out of town. He plans to use it to his advantage when he gets back.  ratings/warnings: E [fluff, coming out, a little character development, Tommy Miller is the most supportive brother, mental health talk, daddy kink, oral sex, spit, some ball worship, lots of fluids, squirting, dom Joel, subby girlie, subby Frankie,  unprotected PIV sex, nicknames used include girlie, baby, baby girl, sweetheart, sweet girl, baby boy, pretty girl, slut (a singular use, affectionate, you’re into it), a little mocking condescension, come eating, some neck squeezing] wc: ~4k a/n: please go to @ezrasbirdie-updates to be notified of updates! Happy one year anniversary to the Catalyst ‘verse! I don’t usually pay too much attention to this kind of thing, but they’re queer and it’s Pride Month and also, I love them very, very much. Also @swiftispunk showed me an inspo picture and I got brainworms about it, so this Han’s fault. Special thanks to @mothandpidgeon for betaing! She’s amazing and I don’t deserve her. This probably won’t become a regular part of their dynamic, but I have a soft spot for daddy Joel always. Thank y’all for being so supportive of them, it means the world to me<3

masterlist | series masterlist | joel masterlist | frankie masterlist

You started it. 

It's a joke between you and Frankie; a little bit of lightheartedness for when Joel gets in one of those moods, ordering you both around even outside of the bedroom. It’s easier just to smirk at each other and obey, letting him work out on the two of you whatever’s made him so grumpy. He’s never mean, never cruel, just firm, and it always ends with him expressing his gratitude one way or another. 

Usually with his tongue.

A bad brain day had turned into a bad brain week. Work had overwhelmed you, and by the time you got home in the evenings all you wanted to do was crawl under the covers and sleep. Dishes went unwashed, laundry unfolded, texts unanswered.

Joel dashed your vain hope that your absence this week went unnoticed when he called you that Thursday, separate from the normal group chat you kept with him and Frankie. You’d stayed active there, despite that little voice in your head telling you they wouldn’t miss you. 

“What’s goin’ on?” Joel had asked, hardly letting you say hello. “It’s been three days and we ain’t seen you at all.” You could almost hear him pacing back and forth in his upstairs hallway. 

“Nothing,” you said, then bit your tongue at the lie. “It’s just been a weird week.”

He sighed. “Figured,” he said. “Frankie’s on his way over.”

“Joel—”

“No use in protestin’, darlin’, I’d be over there myself if it weren’t for this dinner,” Joel said. Your heart dropped—you’d completely forgotten. He was meeting Sarah’s girlfriend tonight. 

“Oh, shit, Joel, I totally forgot—I should’ve—”

“Should’ve what?” he chuckled. “Nothin’ for you to do.”

“What if you needed to talk?”

“Stop makin’ this about me. You ain’t takin’ care of yourself, are you?”

“I’m fine,” you argued. 

“Uh huh. And if I ask Frankie he’s gonna tell me the sink wasn’t full of three day old dishes?”

You huffed and puffed, but had nothing to say. He was right—you’d gotten behind on things, too proud and skittish to ask for help. Too afraid they wouldn’t want to. 

You really should know better by now.

“Frankie wanted to see you anyway,” Joel said just as you heard the familiar slam of Frankie’s creaky old truck door. Like this was all out of his control and he had nothing to do with this little plan.

“Speak of the devil,” you said.

Frankie hadn’t bothered with knocking, either, just came right in with the key you’d given him ages ago to water your plants when you’d gone out of town. After a kiss on the cheek, he’d headed straight to the kitchen and started on the dirty dishes that had started an ominous spread out to the counter.

Maybe Joel was right.

“Fine. Y’all win,” you conceded to Joel, who had yet to hang up.

“Good. Now go take yourself a bath or somethin’, and I’ll see you both later. I mean it,” he grunted. He hung up before you can argue, a truly infuriating tactic he employs when he’s done with a conversation and doesn’t want to hear anything else about it. 

You tossed the phone on the couch with an irritated sigh. “Hi,” Frankie said over his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Daddy said it’s bathtime,” you’d snarked, and Frankie laughed so hard he had to put down the bowl he’d been attacking with a scrub brush.

“Daddy?” he’d questioned with tears in his eyes.

“He’s so fucking bossy.”

“You’re listening to him,” Frankie pointed out, up to his elbows in bubbles. 

“Oh, like you don’t? You came over here just because he told you to.”

“I was gonna come over anyway, baby. And I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” Frankie said. 

“Ohhh,” you giggled, hopping on the counter next to him just to watch him work. There was just something about watching him work with his hands doing even the most mundane tasks. “I get it, soldier boy.”

Frankie shrugged and kissed you. “Go take a bath,” he said against your lips.

“What’s with you two and the bath?”

“You always feel better after one. I’ll make dinner.”

“Frankie—”

“Go. Daddy said so, remember?”

“Shut the fuck—”

“I’ll tell Daddy if you finish that sentence,” Frankie laughed, flicking soap bubbles at you. 

So you did. 

Later that night Joel came to your place, excited about Sarah’s new girlfriend and determined to make you feel better. 

“Who makes you feel good, baby?” Joel had asked, his head buried between your legs while Frankie cradled you from behind.

“You,” you’d whimpered. “You, Joel.”

And then you’d looked back at Frankie, biting your lip till it bled to keep another word from spilling out. 

It’s fun, having this little inside joke with Frankie. It loosens him up—he’s always so amenable to Joel, and you think he could stand to be more mischievous every now and then. 

“Did Daddy tell you what he’s making for dinner yet?” Frankie asks. 

“Daddy is not having a good day,” you mouth as Joel fusses over the phone. 

“Daddy said it’s your turn to mow my lawn,” Frankie teases one viciously hot day. That one gets him tackled, but he pins you—he always does—and tickles your sides until you can’t breathe. 

“I’m—telling—Daddy—” you wheeze.

Of course, that can only last so long. After a few weeks of this, you slip up in front of him and not even Joel’s poor hearing can save you. 

Tommy, Joel’s brother you have yet to meet—you’re not even sure he knows you exist—just had a baby, and Joel’s flying out to meet his nephew. Joel’s also never actually met Maria, the woman his brother eloped with a few years ago, and although he won’t admit it directly, he’s nervous about meeting this new side of the family. 

He’d also refused to let either of you drive him to the airport, arguing about toll roads and his late flight back home, as if it mattered all that much. 

“Where’re my glasses?” Joel demands, as though you’ve taken them. You look behind you—surely he’s not talking to you that way.

“Why on Earth would I know where your glasses are, Joel?” 

He frowns, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Sorry. I need them,” he grumbles. “You sure you ain’t seen ‘em?”

“No, baby, I haven’t seen them. You want me to help you look for them?”

“No,” he grunts and stalks off. 

Grumpy. 

“What’s going on?” Frankie asks as he rolls Joel’s suitcase in from the bedroom. 

“Did you re-pack that?”

“If you’d seen it you would understand,” Frankie says. You don’t think you would, but Frankie is particular, and if Joel hadn’t fussed about it, you won’t either.

“What’s going on with Joel?” Frankie asks again. 

“Daddy’s mad ‘cause he can’t find his glasses,” you tell him, intending to lighten the tension in the house. Frankie’s eyebrows shoot up the moment you realize what you’ve said, whirling around to make sure Joel is nowhere around. 

You’re not that lucky. To your horror, he’s leaning against the doorway with his glasses on and a smirk on his face.

Oh, shit. 

He’s suddenly in much less of a rush. He saunters across the room with that smirk still on his face as blood rushes to your cheeks. 

“What was that, sweetheart?” Joel asks. Frankie says nothing, but you feel him shift behind you. “What’d you call me?”

“Nothing—I just said you were upset because you couldn’t find your glasses.”

“Mmhmm,” he says, running his thumb over your cheek. “Thought I heard somethin’ else.” 

He’s just fucking with you now.

You cross your arms. “I didn’t say anything. You’re gonna miss your flight,” you tell him because you can play that coy little game, too.

“All right, princess. We’re gonna talk about this when I get back.”

You’re looking forward to it, actually.

It’s an exhausting trip, and Joel misses you and Frankie the whole time, especially when Tommy asks him over whiskey about his love life. Sarah, apparently, let something slip. 

“How much she say?” Joel asks, feeling him out. 

Tommy shrugs, smirking as he takes another sip. “Just that you’d been seein’ someone for a while. Shoulda brought her!”

Joel clears his throat, trying to work up the courage, but it fails him. “Yeah,” he says, but Tommy clocks his avoidance. 

“What is it?” Tommy asks. Sometimes Joel wishes his brother didn’t know him so well.  

Tommy isn’t the judgmental type, but Joel’s been a certain type of man to his little brother their whole lives. What if it changes? What if he sees him differently?

What if Tommy doesn’t love him anymore?

But it seems like he’ll find out soon enough, if Sarah keeps running her mouth. Joel shakes his head. 

“Ain’t someone,” he says. Tommy’s mouth drops open. 

“You dog,” Tommy laughs. “More than one woman?”

Joel throws back the rest of his whiskey, wincing as it burns on the way down. “No,” he says. “There’s just one woman.”

Joel watches the cogs in Tommy’s head whir, slow with whiskey and the lack of sleep a newborn costs him. He wants his brother to understand because words are difficult, and he wants to move past this. 

But maybe he owes more than that to Frankie. 

“There’s a man, too,” Joel says, throat drying. He tells his brother your names, and he waits. 

Tommy shakes his head, a big grin spreading across his face.

“All this time, you spend all this time bein’ a crotchety, lonely fucker and the minute I move away, you start pullin’ ‘em all? When the fuck did that happen?”

Joel breathes in, chest rising as relief floods his body. “Just them. Just the two of ‘em.”

“Tell me all about it, brother. How’d you meet?” Tommy asks, pouring another glass. 

Joel smiles into his whiskey. He thinks he’ll skip that part.

When Joel comes home he finds you both asleep in his bed, curled up on your sides with Frankie spooning you. Judging by his bare chest and a peek of your breasts spilling from the blanket, you’d been busy earlier in the evening. 

He never minds that, the two of you fucking in his bed when he’s gone. If he had his way you’d both be in his bed every night. You’d complain about the commute to work, but he’d drive you every day if you let him. He thinks you will one day, and that’s fine. He’s a patient man.

Joel showers in the guest bathroom, eager to wash the airplane smell off of himself but not willing to wake you up just yet. 

Still a little damp, he slides into bed facing you both, propping himself up with his elbow to the mattress. Frankie’s eyes flutter open. “Hey,” Frankie murmurs, delight wrapped up in his sleepy voice. 

“Hi, baby,” Joel whispers, pulling Frankie’s fingers across you to meet his lips. “Missed you.” Heat swirls in his belly, his cock already twitching with need. Joel might be patient, but his dick certainly isn’t. 

Frankie’s messy curls fall in his face, eyes heavy with sleep. “Missed you,” he whispers. 

“You two been busy?” Joel asks. 

“Thought you might like it,” Frankie breathes. “Is that okay?”

It makes him so hard when Frankie asks.

“Of course, baby,” Joel murmurs, watching your eyelids move as they talk about you. “You fuck our girl? You come in her? Get that pussy all stretched and messy for me?”

“Yeah,” he gasps. “Yeah, got her all ready, but didn’t let her come.”

“Poor thing,” Joel says.

“She asked.” 

“S’all right,” Joel coos. You shift between them, eyes still closed as you let out a soft whine. “I’m gonna make her squirt all over my cock.” You wiggle, thighs squeezing together. “But first, she’s gonna suck on it. Think she’ll like that?”

Frankie’s hands have moved to your tits, panting as he pinches your erect nipples. You’re still pretending to be asleep. 

“Good girls don’t pretend to be asleep, though.” Joel smiles to himself, eager for our reaction. “Or else they don’t get to suck on daddy’s cock.” 

The room goes quiet save for unsteady breaths as your eyes fly open, mouth parted in a circle. 

Frankie holds back a laugh behind you. 

“C’mon now, pretty girl,” Joel chuckles. “You’re gonna have to open wider than that.”

You look genuinely flustered, mouth dropping like you can’t quite find the words. “That’s right,” he says. “Just like that.”

Frankie grinds himself against your ass, waiting for instructions as Joel moves up the bed, nodding to Frankie to shuffle down. He pulls you with him until your face is in line with Joel’s cock. 

You lunge at it, but he catches you by the neck, his hand gentle around your throat. 

“Not yet,” he says, squeezing softly. “Be patient.”

You’d fallen asleep after Frankie teased you all night, keeping you on the edge of bliss until he finally came inside of you. And then he’d pulled out, stroking your face as you’d sobbed in frustration.

“You still wanna wait for Daddy, yeah?” he’d asked, reminding you of what had been your idea in the first place. “It’ll be so much better. You know that.” 

And he was right, damn him.

But now you’re shaking with desperation, still leaking Frankie’s come. Your mouth waters—he’s right there, right in front of you, and you missed him so much and you need him so much and he’s being so mean and so unfair and if he would just let you taste him—

“Please, Daddy,” you whine, and Joel groans. 

“Say that again for me, baby,” he commands. “Ask real nice for me. What do you want?”

“Can I please, please suck your cock, Daddy? Please?”

“She’s been good,” Frankie rasps from behind you, squeezing your hips. “Let me fuck her and didn’t even ask to come. She wanted to wait for you.”

“Cockhungry little thing, ain’t she?” Joel growls, wrapping his free hand around Frankie’s head and tugging on his messy curls. “Already had that pretty cock of yours and she still wants more?”

“Mm,” Frankie whimpers, fingers digging into your hips. 

“She just wants to come, doesn’t she?” Joel whispers. “Wanted Daddy for that, huh? And what about you, baby boy?”

Frankie whimpers again, rolling his cock between your cheeks. He’s trembling, too.

“I-yeah-” he murmurs, trailing off.

“Asked you a question,” Joel says sternly. He reaches across the bed and gives Frankie’s face a light tap. “Did you miss me, too?” 

“Yeah,” Frankie whines. 

Joel chuckles softly. “What’d I do to deserve this?” he murmurs, more to himself than anyone. 

Which is a good thing because you’re having trouble forming words. All you can do is stare at Joel’s cock, just a few inches in front of you. 

“All right, sweet girl,” he says. “Been so good all night. Go on ahead.”

Joel releases your neck and you lunge again, taking his cock into your mouth and moaning. He tastes like soap and skin, but you almost wish he hadn’t washed all that familiar musk away. His hands cup the back of your head, guiding your head back and forth. He doesn’t bother keeping it down, grunting loudly when you tongue his slit. Joel can never keep his hips still no matter how hard he tries, but you swallow his thrusts easily, your throat opening up to accept him like it was molded for his cock.

“Fuck, Joel,” Frankie sighs behind you. “She’s leaking all over the place again.”

“Need to fill that pussy up again,” Joel grunts. You feel one hand let go of the back of your head, sheets rustling as he reaches for Frankie. “What do you think, Frankie baby? Think she needs Daddy to fuck her full?”

He’s loving this Daddy thing. You’re torn between rolling your eyes and coming, your pussy throbbing every time he says it. 

“Yeah, Daddy,” Frankie moans. Jesus Christ, that’s one of the most beautiful noises you’ve ever heard, garbled like he’s talking around something, and all you see in your mind is Joel’s thick fingers shoved in his mouth.

You pull off Joel's cock, replacing your mouth with your hand and licking down, down, down, already gleeful at Joel’s inevitable reaction.

Joel, as you’ve learned these last few months, likes it messy. He likes spit and come and slick; he likes it so wet you have to change the bedsheets after. He likes it when you drool for him; when you let him smear pre-come on your face and spit on your pussy and spread Frankie’s saliva over your asshole. He wants to hear it, too, the squelch of your cunt, the smack of your lips as you slurp your way up his cock.

And he really fucking loves when you drool around his balls. 

“Oh, fuck,” he growls as you suck one into your mouth. You nuzzle his soft curls, humming at his cock resting against your cheek. Frankie’s notched himself at your entrance, thrusting lazily in his own spend as he watches you take Joel apart. “That’s my good fucking girl, sucking Daddy’s balls. Fuck, baby, fuck—”

He grabs his thick, weighty cock and taps your face with it, fucking against your hollowed-out cheeks.

“The other one,” he growls. “Put ‘em both in. Fill that greedy little slut mouth up.”

Frankie picks up his pace at Joel’s words. 

Joel talks to you in ways Frankie wouldn’t, could never, but you think, deep down, he likes it when Joel puts you in your place. Someone has to, you think, and you’re glad it’s Joel.

Frankie’s fingers find your clit—they always do, eventually; he just can’t help himself—and he rubs light circles, careful not to make you come. 

“Frankie,” you groan, Joel’s balls still resting in your mouth, his heavy cock jumping against your face at the sound of the other man’s name on your tongue. 

That’s when he’s had enough.

“My turn,” Joel snarls. You whine loudly, suddenly empty, nothing in your mouth or pussy as he manhandles you off of Frankie, turning your whole body over to pull your ass against him, your eyes now level with Frankie’s slick, shiny cock. “Put your mouth on Frankie’s messy dick, yeah? Make him feel good, too. Daddy’s gonna fuck you hard now, baby girl. You remember your word?”

“Wednesday,” you breathe before swallowing Frankie whole. 

“That’s my girl,” Joel grunts, pressing himself into you. 

It’s like an invasion, your body taken over as a vessel for their pleasure as they jackhammer into you; so rough and bruising you’ll feel it tomorrow. In the morning Joel will watch you wince as you sit gingerly at the breakfast table; he will spoil you rotten no matter how many times you tell him you like being reminded of the way he uses you.

You close your eyes, take in their grunts and pants, filth falling from Joel’s lips as he pounds into you, both hands anchored to your hips and fingers digging bruises into your flesh. Frankie’s softer, always, his hand gentle on your cheek despite his assault to the back of your throat. You wrap your arms around Frankie’s thighs and hold on.

“That’s it,” Joel grits out. He lifts your leg and pulls it back around his hip, making more room for himself. You don’t know how long you’ve been like this now; tears dripping down your cheeks, jaw aching with effort. “You wanna come, sweetheart?”

You wrench yourself off Frankie’s cock. “Please,” you gasp as he finds your clit with his fingers and rubs. “Please, please, please, I need it so bad, please Daddy—”

You can feel yourself tensing up as Frankie pumps himself in front of you, waiting. He won’t come until Joel says.  

“I want Frankie to come, too, Daddy,” you beg. And Frankie’s dark eyes go soft, sliding up to Joel’s face for permission. Joel gives some silent indication, and seconds later Frankie’s balls draw up, cock throbbing as he spurts hot come against your chest. 

“Fuck,” he whines. “Baby, so pretty.”

“Now, sweet girl, come for Daddy, come on,” Joel commands. “Now.”

Your vision goes white, pussy spasming around Joel’s cock, as you gush down your own thighs, dripping onto the bed. Joel holds you gently around your neck, murmuring softly as you ride it out. Frankie’s hands are on your breasts, and massaging and whispering just as sweetly as Joel. 

“So patient for Daddy.”

“Look so pretty like that.”

Joel is last—he almost always is, preferring to watch you both fall apart, either because of him or because of one another. He’s not picky. He just wants to see. 

Joel barely lets you come back to Earth before he’s fucking you again, though, and the three of you are the only people in the world. Frankie kisses you, tongue sliding into your mouth as his hands cup your face, and Joel sucks on your bare shoulder, sure to leave a mark in the morning. You don’t care. You moan into Frankie’s mouth, and Joel’s hips stutter against your ass as he comes and comes and comes inside of you, his teeth digging into your neck as he adds himself into the mixture of you and Frankie. 

He lingers, laving his tongue over the indents in your flesh, only pulling out when the stimulation proves too much for him. He drags his fingers through your folds and groans at the taste of it, sucking his fingers clean. Frankie rolls you to your back and maneuvers himself between your legs.

Eyes closed, you’re sinking into the twilight of sleep even as you feel Frankie’s thick tongue slide gently over your leaking core. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he moans, lapping softly at you. You’re too tired to push him away, content to let him keep going even as it starts to overwhelm you, and he only stops when Joel’s fingers slide through his hair and pull him off. 

“Enough,” he says sternly.

“Sorry, Daddy,” Frankie whispers, kissing your thigh. 

The last thing you can remember is Joel’s chuckle.

Frankie is always the first to rise, one of many habits that never left him years after he’d gotten out of the military. The added benefit here is the ability to watch you sling your body over Joel’s, curled up over him like a little jetpack.

He spends a couple hours tidying up, unpacking Joel’s suitcase and starting laundry, and just as he’s deciding between waffles and French toast, Joel lumbers into the kitchen in a pair of boxers.

“Mornin’,” Joel says, rubbing sleep from his eyes and looking around. “Y’all stay here the whole time?”

Frankie blushes—it was his idea. You’d both missed him so much. 

“Uh, yeah. Just…felt easier,” he mumbles. 

“You both missed Daddy, huh?” Joel’s grinning ear to ear when Frankie spins around. 

“Wha-”

“It’s okay if you did,” Joel purrs. He’s teasing, of course he is, but there’s a hint of sincerity in those dark eyes, too. “I missed y’all, too.”

Joel wraps his long arms around Frankie’s neck and kisses him, and Frankie melts. “She started it, you know,” Frankie murmurs against Joel’s lips. 

“Oh, I have no doubt.”

“I started what?” you ask, hands on your hips in a little silk robe. “I want kisses, too.”

“C’mon then, girlie,” Joel says. “Think Frankie’s just about to make breakfast.”

Frankie watches you sit gingerly on a chair, watches Joel wince as he sees you, watches him pull you into his lap and kiss you all over your face in apology. 

“What?” Joel asks, catching Frankie’s gaze. Frankie shrugs, smiling, heart full.

“Just happy you’re home.”

Joel sighs, content. 

“Me too.”

support banner and dividers by @saradika-graphics

This is fucking ADORABLE! I love Dad!Dieter 😍😍😍

fade into you

rating: Explicit (18+)

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

word count: 4K

summary: counting down the days until the new baby arrives, you’re already wound to a breaking point. Fortunately, Dieter is as good a husband as he is a father. 

warnings: pregnancy, hormonal behavior due to pregnancy, fluffy cute behavior with kids, oral (m!receiving), Dieter is a sensitive king and loves your tummy, brief body insecurity, pregnancy sex, smut, thigh fucking, daddy/mommy dynamic – mostly tongue in cheek, and finally the return of the greatest tag gone far too long from our lives - daddy!dieter

a/n: congrats @burntheedges you are the first prompt for my 1k follower celebration! This was your prompt for Dieter: "Your shirt is inside out." "Can you help me fix that?" This takes place in the same universe as Little Monsters, but you don’t have to have read that one to understand this one. Thank you SO much for sending this in!

🤍Dieter Bravo Masterlist 🤍Masterlist

I wanna melt in I wanna soak through I only wanna move when you move I wanna breathe out when you breathe in then I wanna fade into you

“C’mon – c’mon, just –,” your outstretched toe barely scrapes the end of the pen. You’re sweating – of course, you’re sweating, you’re always sweating these days. You try inching further down on the bed, as far as your aching back will allow, your leg fully extended, stretched so long you know you’re just flirting with a massive cramp – 

You manage to snag the pen between your toes but as you bring it forward, the weight of the top slips back – “fuck, no!” and with a clatter, the pen tips backwards out of your grasp and onto the floor. After spending ten minutes trying to a fucking pen that you accidentally put there only after you managed to roll your way off the bed to go to the bathroom for the third time in forty-five minutes, the weight of it all hits you. The massive weight of you sinks back against the pillows, eyes scrunched shut, begging yourself not to cry.

You had all but demanded some time alone to work on the bills the producer wanted you to sort through. It was the last thing on your to-do list before you mentally allowed yourself to start your maternity leave and at this rate, it would be done by the time the nearly-grown baby in your stomach was a walking, talking ten year old. In that weird sixth sense mothers and their unborn children share, you feel your son turn and gently one foot presses against your forearm draped over your massive belly. In any other context, your heart would have been made ten times stronger, fortified by the love of your son.

Right now, it just makes you burst into tears. 

You’re crying so hard you don’t hear the back door open, or the rousing chorus of Baby Shark that echoes through the house. If you were listening, you’d hear the squelch of wet flip flops traipsing through the kitchen floor, the song only occasionally broken by giggles and jokes about towel monsters coming to get little girls who drip water all over the living room, and a loud raspberry on soft skin. 

He opens the door before you even have time to try to pull in the loud, wailing sob. 

“Baby, look at –,” 

“Dieter, don’t –,” you snatch up a pillow and shove your face into it, ashamed, embarrassed, and angry all at once. “Don’t look at me like this.” 

When he had left you an hour ago, you had your hot tea by the side of the bed and your game face on – one of your sexier faces, if anyone asked him. You swore up and down this was the last thing and then it was smooth-sailing. You loved overworking yourself even while eight months pregnant, so Dieter and your doctor managed to make an agreement with you: all work must be done in bed. 

You had your tea, a snack, even a towel wrapped around the headboard so you could pull yourself upright out of the bed to go to the bathroom unassisted while Dieter and Zelle went down to the pool . You, like you so often do, had a fool-proof plan. And to be quite honest, those were Dieter’s favorite kind of plans. 

Listening to his ‘you think I can’t do it? watch me, fuck you’ wife and mother of his child (soon to be another) wail like the house was on fire made something inside of him break on a microscopic level. Like his organs were suddenly perforated with a million tiny cuts. 

His bottoms still wet from the pool and Zelle’s wet suit quickly soaking the front of his t-shirt, Dieter approaches, his hand squeezing the arch of your foot to let him know he’s there. That did nothing to deter the anguish sobbing or inch the pillow away from your face. 

With Zelle on his hip, he slides closer, touching you the whole time until he’s seated right beside you, his hand on your thigh. Your sobbing might only be second to Zelle’s own yelling cry in successfully destroying him from the inside out.

“Baby . . .”

You don’t flinch but he sees your knuckles go white – you’re nearly at the end, but you can’t seem to stop. As Dieter waffles between drawing you into his chest with his free arm or just being there for you while you let it all out, the weight on his hip shifts and a little pudgy hand brushes the back of your knuckles.

“Mama?” 

Your sobbing stutters to a halt with a deep hiccup and all at once you go still. Very slowly, the pillow is lowered and your pink, snotty, dribbly face peers up at him. It’s not funny for you, and he knows this and he knows he won’t laugh but he wants nothing more than to pull you in close and kiss off those tears that have been nearly a constant presence in the last two weeks. Instead, his little girl beats him to it.

Zelle wiggles off his hip towards you and you take her in your arms, letting out one more whine as she wraps her tiny arms around your neck. She rubs her little face in your neck and you huff.

“Now, I feel silly,” you blubber. With a small chuckle, Dieter reaches over and gets a few tissues from the bedside table. He hands them over and you try to juggle Zelle and reaching over your swollen tummy to take them.

“C’mere, baby, let Mama have a second.” Zelle folds into his shoulder, her bright, inquisitive eyes never leaving your face as you wipe yourself dry and blow your nose. He rubs your thigh in circles. “You’re not silly. Whatever ever made you break out into deep sobs on a Thursday afternoon in our secluded bedroom is totally normal.” 

You give a watery laugh, sniffing as you try to adjust your pillows, Baby Brave Number Two rolling back into your kidneys. He doesn’t kick, he's as unassuming as possible, but he can’t help how he floats. 

“I dropped a pen,” you murmur with a sigh. “I just got comfortable after waddling back in from the bathroom and I dropped my pen.” 

“Mama mad?” Zelle hides her little face beneath a curtain of hair. Dieter Bravo’s offspring in every conceivable way, Zelle is rarely this timid – only when there’s even but a hint of an implication that she’s in trouble. You’d see those same puppy dog eyes come out of the man with his hand up against her small back more than a dozen times. 

“No, baby, I’m not mad.” You shake your head and those wide eyes get even bigger. “I’m just having a lot of feelings and I’m not doing a good job at managing them.”

“Yeah, like remember how you felt on your first day of preschool?” Dieter slides Zelle across his waist so she sits between you two. She glances back between your faces, anxiety and confusion twisting up her little features. “You were mad and sad and scared all at once so you started crying when we dropped you off?” She nods and he tucks a strand of delicate hair over her ear. “But then we had that talk in the car and you felt better. Mama just needs to do that.”

“Talk? Mama talk?” 

He smiles at her and pulls her into his chest, smelling her strawberry L’Oreal shampoo, and a peace he’d never known before sinks into his bones. He feels whole with his little girl in his arms.

“Yes, she just needs to talk. Right, Mama?”

He pulls back and watches you visibly swallow. Not a knot of sadness but something else. It’s gone from your eyes by the time Zelle turns back around. 

“I’m just really excited for your little brother to get here,” you say with a soft smile, your hand absentmindedly stroking the swell of your stomach where a little foot had been pressed just a few minutes ago. “Aren’t you?”

Zelle nods, smiling, and puts her ear to your stomach. A minute later, Dieter’s wide palm covers yours. He interlaces his fingers with yours and he smiles. The smile that’s been cultivated and cured over half a dozen years together, and recent late nights as new parents. A smile that has never graced a single magazine cover or Instagram reel. A smile that is forever and always will be yours. 

“Come on, love bug, it’s bath time.” Dieter swings Zelle up into his arms and nibbles on her neck making her giggle. 

“Then dinner time,” you grunt as you inch towards the edge of the bed. You try and swing your legs off the edge but end up nearly toppling over your lowered center of gravity.

“Baby –,” his firm grip steadies you, stops you from rolling into the bedside table. Those lines at the corners of his eyes sharpen for a second as he looks you over, worry all at once endearing and annoying. You hated being coddled but Dieter loved to coddle. 

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” you can hear how out of breath you sound and you grimace. Dieter doesn’t let go of your arm until you’re firmly planted on the ground next to him and you squeeze his bicep as reassuringly as you possibly can. He loosens his grip, concern wrinkling his forehead, his hand sliding from your arm, to your elbow then over your belly once again. Baby Bravo jostles you where his father’s hand sits.

“See, we’re all okay.” 

Your gazes meet at the same time and something softens in his eyes, soothes him and you down to the very beat of your heart. As if in a daze, Dieter’s eyelids flutter half-shut and his eyes slip to your mouth, he puts his hand on your swollen waist as he kisses you – deeply, with an intensity that makes your knees quiver. 

“Ew.”

A puff of breath fans your cheeks as Dieter breaks the kiss with a laugh. On his hip, Zelle chews on her little fist, an all-too-familiar glint in her eye. 

“You can’t say ‘ew’. You only exist because of kisses like that –,”

“Dieter!” 

He shakes his head before kissing Zelle on her little nose. “Tough crowd tonight. But even little sharks need to get a bath before dinner.”

Zelle scrunches up her nose, baring her crooked little teeth, and raises her fingers like claws. “Rawr.”

You hear Dieter chuckle as he walks her down to the bathroom. “Yes, baby, that’s definitely the sound sharks make.”

The bills aggressively shoved to the floor, you are folding the last bit of laundry over the bed after dinner when Dieter saunters in. Still in his trunks and shirt from earlier in the day, a faint pink blush warms his nose and cheeks – which would be gone in a few days, only to be replaced by a gorgeous dark almond color. Dieter Bravo could naturally tan so perfectly it was honestly heart-breaking. 

“She’s out?” 

“She’s out.” He nods with a sigh. He scratches the back of his head and snags his phone off the bedside table. When he sits down on the edge of the bed, you see the tag of his shirt over the lip of his collar. You muffle your grin and quietly finish with the towels. “The guy who came up with the lyrics ‘Baby Shark, doo-doo, doo-doo, doo-doo’ is either a genius or a madman. Two rounds of that and she’s basically comatose.”

“How do you know it was a man?” You arch your eyebrow at him. 

Dieter lifts his head from his phone and smirks at you. He reaches for you and you let him tug you between his legs. He kisses your wrist, your hands curled around his broad shoulders. “That was incredibly sexist of me, darling, can you ever forgive me?”

Dropping his head, he presses a soft kiss to the swell of your stomach, his eyes flicking up to you at the last second, the bottom half of his face hidden. The sight, one you haven’t seen in recent months but one you craved like a drizzle of honey over a bowl of fruit, loosens the tension in your back and liquifies your underwear. 

“Dieter?”

“Yes, O Love of My Life?”

“Your shirt is inside out.”

The sultry look in his eyes immediately flickers out and he huffs a laugh, shaking his head and pressing his face into your neck.

“What would I do without you? Can you help me fix that?” 

“Mhm hm.”

His back arched, you roll the faintly damp shirt up his spine, careful to take in the notches visible through his skin. You watch in delight as more of that broad back is revealed, more golden skin and freckles. The rim of the collar catches the back of his head so when you finally tug it off him, his hair is scattered in a dozen different directions. It takes nearly all of your willpower not to moan at the site. 

“Or . . .” you make a deliberate show of dropping the shirt and Dieter goes honey-eyed again. 

“Yeah?” He tilts his head up, wraps his massive hands around the back of your thighs, squeezing you above the backs of your knees, then higher up, his fingers pressing into your inner thigh muscles, and finally resting on your ass. 

You nod and gently push him back. He goes without being told twice. “I want to thank you for taking Zelle to let me work today.”

His eyes go wide, his elbows locked with his arms set apart behind him, when you go onto your knees in front of him.

“B-baby, your back –,”

“Then give me a pillow, Dieter.” 

He nearly launches himself back to snag a pillow by the headboard. 

“My back is one thing, but I’m more worried about the knot of your trunks.”

Dieter busies himself with the drawstring of his shorts, his movements frantic, giving you a chance to muffle a grunt as you ease the pillow underneath your knees. He’s right, of course, but fuck if you couldn’t get those goddamn bills done, the least you could blow your husband until he popped off in your mouth. 

“Love, you really don’t have to do this.” You glance up at him and despite the evident tent in his swim trunks, his wide eager eyes, he will do everything in his power to make these last few weeks even somewhat bearable. 

With a smile, you lean forward and squeeze his knees. “I know. And honestly, I don’t know how long I’ll last, but I wanna try. Is that okay?”

An awe-struck grin splits his lips apart and he laughs, a high-pitched sound and breathless. “How long you’re gonna last? Been half-hard all day since you put on those leggings this morning.”

“Well, you were so good with Zelle today, talking to her about feelings, it made me kinda hot and bothered so I feel especially grateful.”

You lean forward, fingers plucking at the damp strings and out of the corner of your eye you see his knuckles go white against the sheets. You tug and he helps you by lifting his hips.

“S-so that’s what that look w-was.” He swallows roughly as you take him in your hand, stroking him gently at first. He squeezes his eyes shut – god, could you really make him come with just a few touches? “I’m j-just – fuck – doing my part.” 

You kiss along his length and his shoulders lock up as his breathing quickens. You suck the spit in your mouth before dropping a string of drool right on the head and Dieter’s groan elongates, the muscles of his neck tense. 

“Well, Mommy likes it when Daddy does a good job.”

Tongue out and jaw loose, you swallow him down nearly to the base. Maybe you’re biased because you married the himbo attached to it, but Dieter’s cock is one of the – if not the – very best cocks you’ve ever seen in your life. Thick without being overwhelmingly long and always oozing precum the instant you breathe on it. A slick vein that has him whimpering with a single lick. 

“Fuck, Mama, you’re so fucking good at this.” Dieter’s hand floats to the crown of your head, his nails scratching your scalp, the weight of his palm soothing as it follows the motions of your head. With every little sigh he makes, your pussy squeezes with every bob of your head. Dieter’s sensitivity has always been a near drug for you, a chemical reaction that floods your brain, branding those noises on the lining of your skull as he drips down the back of your throat. You meet his hot gaze just as you drag your mouth up and nearly off him, only to kitten-lick the lip of his head and he clamps his eyes shut, shuddering.

When you hear his heel kick the ground beside you, his chest heaving and chin tilted up, you drop your mouth down to his base – years of taking him training you to smother your gag-reflex – and with hollowed cheeks, suck him all the way up to the tip. His wiry curls smell like chlorine and musk. 

Dieter jerks, his hand flying to your shoulder as if to pry you off him. 

“Mhmm – baby, p-please – shit,” he swallows and you pop off him, his cock red and shiny from your spit. Dieter is panting, soft center fluttering, flush high in his throat. Your underwear sticks to you as you realize he very nearly came in your mouth without warning. Call it being a masochist but you loved making him come before either of you realized what was happening. 

“Get off your fucking knees and come here –,” he yanks you into his naked lap and you go, giggling as he palms your ass and kissing you so hard you tilt back. He bites your bottom lip and you keen. “Can’t believe I let my pregnant wife fucking suck me off like that when she knows I worship that little pussy.” 

He cups you through your leggings and the dampness soaking through the fabric sends a moan through both of you. Dieter’s jaw goes lax as he rubs his thick fingers across your folds, the material catching and dragging, and you whimper – and not in a way he knows means a good thing. His gaze floods with worry and you shake your head – the instant the doctor gives the go-ahead you’re gonna have him rail you through a bedpost – “It’s okay. I’m just sore, baby. Last night –,”

He tsks, frowning. “I told you I was being too rough.”

“I asked for it. Also, so not the time for an ‘I told you so’. Help me stand up.” 

With his hands on your hips, he eases you off of his lap and onto your feet. You lift up your exasperatedly large shirt, the hemline of which has been steadily shrinking as you grow, and clip off your bra. Dieter stares, mouth open, as you slip your leggings and your sticky underwear off your round hips and to the floor. With your second baby, you’d managed to quell the looming anxiety about your body changing but with a boy, you just feel ten times your normal size, bigger than you did with Zelle. Your heart hitches in your chest as Dieter’s eyes roam from your shoulders to your swollen tits, your belly, your thighs, and you’d be happy if he just thought you were – 

“Gorgeous, baby, just fucking gorgeous.” He stands and kisses you without another word, his thumbs on your jaw tilting your mouth into his. He palms your breast, hard and weighed with milk. He approaches you with a level of sensuality that makes your eyes roll back in your head and your knees shake. How can he touch you like that when you’re already filled to the brim?

“How do you need it, baby?”

The tension that had been locking down the muscles in your back, your hips, since you woke up this morning, only heightened over those stupid fucking bills and feeling incredibly sorry for yourself, cracks at his words. Without your hands on his chest and his big hands cradling your jaw, you’re sure you would have melted to the floor. You lick your bottom lip, eyes scrunched tightly to clear the sudden tightness behind them. 

“On my side, but between my thighs?” 

His eyes are all heat, all dark wanting, but he hits you in the knees with one of his crooked grins. “Yeah, you’re gonna let Daddy fuck your thighs?” Total reverence, filth that has your toes curling coming as easy to him as it is to breathe. 

“Please.” 

He stands back at a distance, watching with half-set eyes as you climb into bed and peel back the covers. As you settle, Dieter flicks off the overhead light, and then the lamp by your bedside. His body lined in dark shadows and the cool touch of the moonlight, you track him as he rounds the bed, sliding in behind you in bed, the covers up to his shoulders. There’s a breath of silence, of anticipation, of a yearning so deep your skin flushes with goosebumps at his proximity. You know he’s there, you watched him dip on the other side of the bed, but a spark of panic tightens your lungs, you want to reach back for him, your baby unmoored as you are, trembling and desperate for the calming touch of the father –

He kisses you over your shoulder, broad, warm hand starting at your hip, then scooping down around your naked bottom to settle on your belly and from where his hand sits, you radiate with heat. Melting and growing sticky like tree sap, you drip for him, slick smearing across your thighs with no material to soak you up. His mouth is warm, the short hairs of his mustache numbing your upper lip, the taste of the red wine from dinner light against the back of his tongue. 

When he cups you again, finds the sticky sap gathered in your curls and leaking onto your thighs, he breaks the kiss with a grunt and presses his teeth into your shoulder, his cock fully present against your back. You nip his bottom lip with your thumbnail, pleased beyond words at his reaction.

“I love you.” 

That’s not what you thought he was going to say. He lifts his furrowed brow, eyes dark but struck with such earnestness, you feel your heartbeat in your ears. He sucks the mark his teeth made on your shoulder, his hips hitching closer, turning his weight over you, before dropping closer to kiss you again.

“How did I get so fucking lucky with you, hm?” He asks of no one. Delicately, he guides your knee back over his hip, his breath warm across the curve of your shoulder, his other hand pressing gently on the back of your neck. He would never, ever choke you in this state, but fuck you missed it. You missed it when Dieter loses himself entirely in you. 

The head of his cock taps the wet triangle of your thighs and you fist the pillow beneath your head. He shuffles closer and you can feel his chest trembling with restraint. 

“Tell me if it hurts,” he says in one breath. You know if you look over your shoulder, he’s fixated on watching you take his cock. Oddly enough, his ADHD always seemed to clear out during sex. “Do– do you need my fingers – a-a toy to prep you, ‘cause I can–,”

“Dieter, please.”

He exhales and, with a slow thrust that smears your arousal all over his spit-licked cock, you finally feel relief. The noise that leaves your throat is unrecognizable. That ruddy tip kisses your clit and the moan that tears out of you is nearly a scream. 

A wide palm claps over your mouth, a breathy giggle falling down your back. 

“Baby,” low, strained, barely audible over the sounds of your slickness sucking your thighs together around Dieter’s cock. “If you wake up that child before I’m balls deep in you, I will never forgive you.”

Using his hand as leverage, he pulls you back against him, pressing himself even further between your soaked lips, prodding your clit so gently it sends sparks up your spine and you come, a small wave, that somehow has you leaking more onto his cock. 

“Ah – oh my god – did you just –?” 

You whine and wrap your hand up into his hair, and finally he’s skin to skin up your back. His hips jolt you forward, the hard smack loud and sloppy in the mess between your thighs. Dieter leans over you and nips at your earlobe, his thrusts faster now, each one catching your clit with just enough time apart to send you ratcheting higher. 

“That’s so good, Dieter, you’re doing so good –,”

A sharp intake of breath, high through a vocal shudder, and he drops down onto his shoulder against the pillow, looping his arm around your chest, a wide palm cupping your sensitive breast. Skin to skin, he is a wall of heat behind you, his hands both steadying you and begging you for more against your hip. It’s moments like these, when he’s swallowing up every sense you’re still in control of, that you really believe your soul lives in two bodies. 

He tucks his lips near your ear and your skin tingles. “Can I touch your clit, or does that hurt?”

“Just put your hand –,”

You take him by the wrist from the curve of your waist, where he grips you tight, fingers pocketing your flesh, and slide him down between your legs. 

“That’s it, baby, take what you need.” 

Between the consistent bouncing of his cock between your pussy lips and the heat of his four fingers, stocky and thick, you have nowhere to go but up, your own hips thrust back aimlessly, bliss hurling towards you, until it breaks – and you whine, squeeze Dieter’s hand so hard, you think you hear a bone pop.

Wetness floods your thighs and, half a dozen strokes later, Dieter spills with a groan, white cream splattering against the low curve of your belly and onto the sheets. Covered in literal spend, exhaustion soaks your bones, gasping for air and never finding enough. You lie together, your bodies buzzing, blood roaring loud beneath your skin, until Dieter tilts his weight off you – you didn’t even realize he had nearly smothered you – and his cock slides out from between your numb legs, his grip loosening from your breast and his hand flopping down into the sheets. His skin is pink from exertion.

You grin and roll over as gracefully as you can, out of breath and the size of a house. 

“An unexpected bonus,” you sigh, ringing your belly button with your finger, “I think we rocked him to sleep.” 

Dieter huffs a laugh as he pushes a handful of damp curls off his sweaty forehead and his other arm curls around your shoulders. He rests his other palm over your fingers on your belly.

“Glad I could tire all three of us out.” You giggle into his shoulder. Both of you are sticky hot, sweltering in a fog of your own mess, and you can feel sleep tugging at the corners of your eyes. Humming, you curl up closer to him, your knee over his hip, tucking your nose into his neck as his fingers absently play with strands of your hair. 

“I meant what I said, you know that right?”

Your body as supple as warm wax, eyes melting shut, you nod vaguely. “Mhmm hmm.” 

“I love you, baby. Thank you, for everything.”

You return the sentiment, the words dribbling out of your mouth as sleep overwhelms you.

Later, when you wake up in the early blue hours of the morning, rain pattering against the glass, and you feel something cool and soft against your belly, you stir, reaching for him.

“Hush, baby, stay still for me.” He hums somewhere above you. You nod, on the precipice of sleep again. “You gave me the world, I’m just returning the favor.”

Later still, when you awake to a soggy light, Dieter and Zelle down the hall excitedly picking out which movies to watch on this designated Stay on the Couch day, you roll onto your back and realize he’s painted a globe onto your stomach. 

A foot inside you presses up against Chile and you grin into space, content beyond your wildest dreams. 

+

I need the practice with angst so count me in!

Tight Jeans Javi June Writing Challenge!

When? - June 1st -June 30th

The Prompt - Lovers to Enemies 💔🥀

Who Can Participate? - anyone 💗

Characters? - Any Pedro boy of your choosing! (Can be multiple Pedro boys but needs at least one reader insert/oc)

How to submit? - submit your fics by tagging @tightjeansjavi & #tightjeansjavijunewritingchallenge

At the end of the month, I will create a masterlist of all the submitted fics and will also reblog them as well! 💗

Remember to tag your fics appropriately and to have fun! Bring on the angst, I need a good cry 😮‍💨

SERIOUSLY!!!!