#Pedro pascal character x reader

[beardedjoel]

pretty little wife | better now

joel miller x f!reader one shot collection

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 summary: 3.9k words, a snippet of a day in the life of husband! joel and his lovely housewife | no apocalypse au, no use of y/n warnings: 18+ MDNI! pre-established relationship/dynamic, unprotected piv, rough sex, free use kink, sub/dom relationship, cum play, spit kink, exhibition kink, dirty talk, pet names for reader, brief mention of alcohol, generally extremely submissive reader so if you're into that this is for you! a/n: not pretending this is anything other than some little fantasy i had that i needed to write out. i'm really excited about this one shot series for husband!joel though, i have some really fun (and depraved) ideas planned for these two for future blurbs so stayed tuned if you like this one! reblogs + comments are always loved and appreciated! ♡

i've decided to start a kofi in case anyone wants to consider a small donation to support my work! ♡

How’s my pretty little wife today?

The words you look forward to each day, falling from your husbands lips in some form or another, whether it’s rasped tenderly in your ear, from between your legs as he smirks up at you, or from over your shoulder as he slams his cock into you, sending you to heaven and back down as soon as he can after walking in the door after work.  

Joel asks the question today after walking up behind you in the backyard, his mouth already next to your ear, warm breath tickling along your skin there as he brushes your hair over your shoulder. The wiry texture of his beard nuzzles right into your neck, sending a thrill down your spine as his arms slide around your waist and hold you tightly to him, swaying you back and forth. The motion is soothing, reminding you that you’re right where you’re meant to be.  

You can smell the workday on him - sweat and dirt and the outdoors, and the lingering scent of the cologne you’d given him this past Christmas. He’d sprayed it on this morning, as he does every morning since you bought it for him. Makes me think of you all day, he’d remind you while you’d watched from your bed with a teasing smile, sheet disheveled and draped over your naked body.

You breathe all of it in, savoring this scent unique to your husband, before touching your hand to where his rests around your belly and stroking it gently.

“Better now,” you answer. More times than not, that’s your response to his routine question, knowing it drives him wild, makes a long day of work ache a little less when he hears you say it.

“S’what I like to hear,” he says, a kiss on your neck leading up to your lips - a long, deep, ravenous kiss that already leaves you breathless. He pulls away so suddenly you nearly have whiplash, your head falling slightly into nothing, missing his lips.

“Smells good out here,” Joel comments, turning his nose up in the air slightly. “Usin’ the new pizza oven already?” 

When you’d made a passing comment about wishing you could make wood fired pizzas at home, just like the ones a restaurant in town serves, Joel seemed to take it seriously, as he did with most things involving your wishes and desires. The next weekend, he’d hauled in bricks and began his work. You’d stepped out into the yard when you heard all the commotion, giving him a quizzical stare, and he’d simply grinned and shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world that he should be building his wife a pizza oven. You’d nearly teared up, feeling grateful and giddy with excitement at your new toy to experiment with. 

Within a few weekends, Joel had finished his new project, always seeming to need one to have around the house, wiping the sweat off his forehead and gleaming with pride at it as he showed you the final product. You’d practically jumped for joy but settled on flinging yourself into his arms to show your appreciation. When that had turned into him fucking you on top of the kitchen counter moments later after he went inside to fetch a cold drink, you hadn’t minded one bit.

“I couldn’t wait,” you say with a grin. When Joel nuzzles your neck again you start to lose your train of thought. His lips press a gentle kiss right on your pulse point, and you sigh into it. “T-trying out margherita today,” you manage to squeak out.

“Hmm,” Joel says, seemingly contemplating the flavor choice in between latching his lips on your neck and sucking, marking you over and over. You’re sure the ones from mere days ago haven’t faded all the way, a smattering of them going right down to your tits, but Joel always needs a fresh mark on you as soon as they start to fade, a way for you to always remember you’re his. He grinds his hard length into your back on the next touch of his lips, and you arch into it a little, your cunt starting to ache more needily for him. 

“F-fresh basil… from the… gar-” you gasp as he pulls you completely flush against his cock, letting out a little, devious laugh.

“Sounds fuckin’ delicious, baby,” he replies. His fingers reach down and toy with the front hem of your dress, delicately sliding his calloused fingers up your thighs, bunching the fabric as he goes. The warmth of his hands on your bare skin blazes a trail up to the apex of your thighs, finally cupping a hand around your warm heat. You instinctively grind into the heel of his hand, and can practically feel Joel smirking behind you. His fingers brush the outside of your panties, starting to rub circles on the wet fabric. He lets out a low growl, deep and needy in the back of his throat feeling the evidence of how much you’d anticipated him coming home. 

“So wet for me already, huh, doll? Couldn’t wait f’me to get home ‘n take care of ya, I bet,” Joel taunts in your ear before sucking on the lobe, and you’ve gone breathless now, nodding your head. His fingers tease the edge of your panties again, finally slipping one underneath the fabric, feeling the obscenity of your wetness directly, and he lets out an impressed tut, sucking in air between his teeth. You nearly moan out at the smallest touch he’s giving you, the way his rough, worn fingers gently brush over your clit for just a split second. 

“She’s so needy, ain’t she?” Joel coos in your ear, swiping a finger to your entrance and back to your clit. You can feel how slickness quickly gathers on Joel’s digits as he teases you. You squeeze your eyes shut and lean back into him, letting your head drop to his shoulder as pleasure wracks your body already.

“Mhm… needs you,” you murmur, turning your head towards his where he meets your lips, continuing steady strokes on your aching bundle of nerves. His lips are softer than you’d think, looking at the hardened grump behind them, but like so many parts of Joel, they are only soft for you.

“Needy, needy girl… good thing I’ve been thinkin’ about gettin’ my cock in that little cunt of yours all day.”

“A-all day?” you say with a little smirk, rutting your ass back into his throbbing length, and Joel groans with the friction.

“Second I pulled out of it this mornin’,” he replies, low voice drumming against your skin, and you shudder, desperate for what you know he’s about to do.

Another routine of yours - Joel comes home from work, and more days than not, he fucks you. And you enjoy every second of it, basking in the attention and his cock filling you up in the way nobody and nothing else can. You crave him night and day, never having gotten your fill, wondering if you ever could. His hunger for you in return only fuels the fire, a vicious circle the two of you seem to have no intention of breaking.

Your weakness lies completely in the man standing behind you, burying his fingers in between your legs and making you moan out wildly before he’s even had his way with you.

“Fuck, gotta get this cock in you, baby, split you open f’me so good, fuck you stupid,” Joel grunts suddenly, interrupting your swirling thoughts, withdrawing his fingers in a flash and leaving you whimpering. It’s not fair, the way he affects you. 

Nobody should have this power over you, but the minute you’d met Joel, you couldn’t deny the way he’d made you feel. Masculine and warm, rough hands and broad shoulders that you’d clung to that same night you’d met him in a bar, fucking mere hours later in the bathroom. Even in your drunken haze you’d submitted to him fully, Joel having no problem ordering and throwing you around the bathroom like you were just a toy to play with, his little doll. You’d found that you could never look back after that night, the safety he represented to you, the adoration he showered you with, the way he fucked you like it was his last time every time. When Joel saw how willing you were to be his in the way he craved from a woman, there was no stopping the insatiable beast he became, hellbent on never letting another man feel your touch again. Joel promised you a good life, an amazing life, even, and in the last few years, he had more than delivered for you. 

“Hush now, you’ll have what you want in a second,” he says, running a quick stroke of his fingers through your hair, giving it a tug. On principle, you let out a little mewl at the sensation, too many instances of your hair being tugged and pulled with Joel involved to not recall those memories with the pain of it. You hear the jangle of his belt as he frees himself from his jeans, the familiar sound of Joel’s thick, heavy cock slapping against his hand as he fists it. You’re already cock drunk without having seen the damn thing yet, and it’s nearly laughable how pliable you are when Joel’s involved. It’s always been that way - you’ve been happy to oblige his every desire, no matter when, where, how he wanted it, or the frequency. You were his to use, to pleasure, to fuck senseless, and you got off on the way all of it steadily built his need for you just as much as it did with your need for him.

“Please…” you whine, trying to slip out of his grasp and start for the sliding glass door to the house, making the assumption that he’d be taking you inside at any moment to take what he needed from you. 

Joel immediately tightens his hold on you, a dark tut in your ear that goes straight to your clit.

“Not so fast, little doll,” he croons, hand grabbing your cunt through your dress again to hold you to him. “Right here,” he adds on, turning your body towards the outdoor dining table in the backyard. 

“J-Joel… right here?” you question, knowing you shouldn’t. It won’t matter anyways. “The… t-the neighbors…” you whimper quietly as Joel crowds you against the table, tearing your dress up over your ass, revealing your lacy little thong to him. He groans at the sight of your bare ass ready for him to claim before roughly shimmying your underwear halfway down your thighs. He places a rough hand on your back, pressing you down into the table so that you’re completely bent over, your hands splaying out into the wood to support yourself. 

“Let them see…” Joel says quietly, a heady murmur as he slips his cock between your thighs and notches himself at your weeping entrance. “Let them see how much I love fuckin’ my wife.” He pushes in on the last sentence, and you gasp at the stretch and burn of his girth. Your vision goes white for a moment with the mix of pure pain and pleasure, and your mouth hangs open, panting in delight as he fills you inch by inch. 

“Mmm… such a sweet little pussy, honey…” Joel says quietly once he’s seated fully inside of you. He’s just as lost in the bliss of it as you are. “Know I’d fuckin’ live right here if I could.”

You give him a little moan of satisfaction, wiggling your hips to give yourself any sensation of movement from his cock. He places his hands on either side of your hips, squeezing his grip tightly enough to bruise before starting to thrust himself into you. You cry out in a yelp, the noise passing though your lips before you can even control it. 

“Yeah…” you whimper, face pressed against the table, trying to peek up as Joel looms above you, like some higher being that has the power to decide your fate, to decide the pleasure or pain you’ll have to endure in this moment. And truthfully, you do worship him. The way he moves inside of you, makes you crumble underneath even the lightest of his touches. The way he spoils you in every regard - you’ve never wanted for a single thing for as long as you’ve been Joel’s, him vowing to take care of everything you ever need, and in return, you take care of everything he needs. 

To some, it might seem like there’s a lack of balance in the way you do things, but fuck do you love it, you think as you desperately cling onto the table, manicured nails digging into the wood as Joel’s cock rams back into you, pressing so deep inside of you that you see stars.

You let out a low, strangled sound, whining as Joel begins to press against your cervix, the front of your thighs bumping into the table with every new thrust from him. He grunts with the exertion, fucking into you hard, taking what he wants, leaving you both breathless with the need for more of each other. You let Joel take and take and take because of how much he gives in return - while he loves to use you, he always makes sure you get every bit of pleasure you deserve for being so good to him.

When you continuously moan louder as Joel fucks you towards your high, you glance around, the small sliver of your brain that’s still rational worried about you two getting caught by your neighbors. The thought is equally mortifying as it is thrilling, but you decide you’d rather not deal with the embarrassment today if you can help it.

“Still worried about the neighbors, hm, pretty girl? I’ve got an idea,” Joel says, responding to your sudden nervousness. Before you can even answer, his hands are wrapping around your shoulders, urging you up from the table. You follow along, breathless and dazed, letting him move you as he wishes, too deliriously starry eyed for him to care about anything else other than what Joel is gearing up to do to you next.

He accidentally slides out with the movement of your body, and immediately he’s grasping at your hips, practically clawing his way back to you as he pulls you tight to his body again. His throbbing, dripping cock slaps periodically against your ass as he shoves you forward, pushing your body towards the house. 

“Here,” he grits out, suddenly crowding your body from behind to press you against the sliding glass door. “That better?”

“I- yes,” you say, eyes wide from the way you’d been roughly handled by him the last few moments. Your cunt aches almost painfully, having been getting so close to your climax only to have it ripped away suddenly when Joel decided to move you.

“Good,” he snips quietly. “Couldn’t stand to keep this cock out of you much longer’n this.”

With his words he brings his lips to the back of your neck again, just his heavy breathing fanning across the skin there, making you wild as he repositions himself and nudges your legs apart with his knee. You feel the length of him tease between your legs, sliding up to your entrance again. He groans loudly, letting you know how badly he wants you, so you try to pop your hips up at just the right angle you know he’s looking for. 

He slides in effortlessly and with a renewed vigor, hips snapping into you, pressing you further into the sliding glass door with neither of you seeming to be worried about the way it’s suddenly shaking on the frame. It’s completely lewd, the way you imagine the two of you - your entire body against glass, tits being pressed out the top of your dress and bouncing, palms spread against the smooth surface, nails clawing and unable to grasp at anything.

Your body is shaking in his hold now, Joel’s cock hitting inside of you in all the right places. You can feel yourself tensing, almost like every cell is going taut, your core pooling heat deep inside of you with molten pleasure from Joel hitting the spongy bit inside of you. 

“Fuck, love it when you sound like that f’me, doll,” Joel punches out as he hears your moans becoming louder and more desperate the longer he continues to thrust against your g-spot. You can’t respond, only continue your lustful noises with a renewed vigor as you try to bounce your hips back into his thrusts, getting him deeper than what’s even possible, the length of him already burying up to the hilt each time he drives himself into you.

“Know you wanna come for me, baby,” he says right in your ear, voice hoarse with need, and you whimper in response as his hand snakes around your hips and in between your legs, circling a gentle pressure on your clit. 

You feel your hold on reality completely break, your eyes squeezing shut as you melt into the way your entire body is tingling with pleasure now, waves of it turning into spasms as you go practically limp with shaky knees. Joel’s hands hold you in place, his warm strength keeping you upright as you push down onto his cock, riding out your climax and screaming for him. 

When your movements start to slow and your body relaxes, Joel thrusts into you even harder, loving the way you’re so compliant and soft after climaxing, letting him move in you however he needs as you ride out the sensitive aftershocks with a few quiet yelps.

“This little pussy is all mine, y’know that, right?” Joel reminds you through clenched teeth, giving your ass a firm slap. You nod vigorously, eyes still half lidded and mind scrambled from the way he’d shattered you mere moments ago.

“Y-yes, Joel,” you say when he slaps your ass again, demanding an answer. Your breathy answer is enough to get him to his own climax, and he surprises you by pulling out suddenly, leaving your body lurching back into nothing, missing the fullness of him already. Before you can protest, say anything, Joel’s hands grip your shoulders and spin you around and push down, forcing you onto your knees in one fluid, swift motion. You watch, wide eyed, as he fists his throbbing cock, shiny and coated in your own slick arousal as he spreads it along his shaft in jerking motions.

“Be a good girl and open up,” he commands, and you submit to the words immediately, mouth hanging open, even sticking your tongue out for good measure. Joel smirks at that before giving himself another swift tug, and you watch in renewed wonder as he begins to spill himself all over your face, ropes of cum hitting your skin. You taste him on your tongue immediately, savoring it. Your eyes are glued up on Joel’s face, watching his glazed gaze taking in the scene below him as he groans in pleasure, trying not to tilt his head back and get lost in the moment so he doesn’t miss a beat of your beautiful surrender to him.

“Fuck,” he mutters as he watches the last bits of his release hit your tongue. “Don’t you dare swallow that, yet, doll,” he adds on quickly, eyes fluttering for a moment before he tucks himself back into his slacks. He continues to tower over you for a prolonged few seconds, looking down in satisfaction at the image of your glowing, angelic face coated in something so sinful, the milky substance starting to drip down your face, your tongue trembling slightly with the need to swallow.

“Hold still,” he says needlessly since as the words come out of his mouth he grabs your chin, tilting your head upwards and gathering spit, letting a long, tortuously slow drip of it fall into your open mouth. It lands on your tongue, combining with his cum and Joel smirks again, releasing your chin.

“Swallow, my little doll,” he says, voice starting to go soft, an indication that he’s feeling satisfied and finished with his enjoyment of you. You close your mouth, smile, and swallow obviously for him, licking your lips for good measure. 

Joel holds out a hand, helping you stand, your legs buckling slightly as you try to get your bearings. He carefully smooths your disheveled dress, flattening the bottom half and tugging the neckline back into place before fixing the straps to sit perfectly square on your shoulders, eyes roaming over quickly to examine his work with pride. His hands then move to your hair, brushing his fingers gently to put it back in its place, leaving every part of you like none of this had just happened besides your face, still dripping with his spill. Your smile widens, seeing him watch a particularly large spot of it sliding down your cheek. You see his composure fail for a moment before he strokes your cheek gently, avoiding any of the mess there, giving you soft, affectionate eyes.

“Good girl,” he says quietly, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “Pizza’s probably ready,” he adds on, the casual tone taking you aback for only a moment before you blink yourself back to reality and nod dutifully.

“Of course,” you say, a genuine smile plastered on your face as you look at your handsome husband, admiring the way he’s looking at you with stars dancing across his eyes, the deepest love for you tucked away in his deep brown irises.

“After you get that, go clean yourself up, doll,” he says, and you nod again, the smile not leaving your face. You see out of the corner of your eye Joel settle onto one of the chairs at your outdoor table, leaning back casually as if he hadn’t just had you bent over that exact table, fucking you for the entire neighborhood to possibly see and hear.

You gather everything you need, serving utensils, plates, and two cold beers before bringing it to the table along with the pizza and a freshly tossed salad you’d made to accompany it. Each time you drop something off, the smirk on Joel’s face grows, watching the way you work with the evidence of his obsession with you still lingering on your flushed cheeks.

Once the table is set and your face cleaned off, you join Joel outside to enjoy the beautiful spring evening, and see he’s already served you two generous slices of the margherita pizza. 

He reaches a hand onto the table, taking yours delicately into his palm, dwarfing it with the size of his thick fingers as he absentmindedly runs his thumb along your knuckles, stopping to play with the large, gorgeous diamond on your ring finger. Another reminder to him that he has you all to himself, his pretty little wife.

“Thanks for dinner, baby” he says, eyes locked on yours as he uses a free hand to pick up the pizza and take a large bite, letting out a little noise in satisfaction at the flavor.

“Anytime.” You smile, genuine and tranquil, a fresh appreciation and love for the life you’ve found yourself so grateful to be living.

tysm to @jupiter-soups @huffle-punk @rensraptor for so much help with ideas and writing this fic! love u guys x

#PLS DON'T LET THIS FLOP i'm very proud of it #fic: pretty little wife #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #x reader #pedro pascal character x reader

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ID also in alt txt.

[ID: The banner for our blog! On top of a peach pink cloud background with sparkling stars are two rows of six circles, filled with characters played by actor Pedro Pascal. In the top row from left-to-right, are characters: Din Djarin/The Mandalorian, Javier Peña, Javier Gutierrez, Oberyn Martell. In the fifth circle there is cursive text reading: “The Inclusive Pedro Library.” In the sixth and last circle of the row there is a photo of Joel Miller. In the bottom row from left-to-right, are characters: Jack Daniels/Agent Whiskey, Dieter Bravo, Marcus Moreno, Marcus Pike, Pero Tovar, and Frankie Morales. In the bottom right corner there is text reading: “Tumblr: @inclusivepedrolibrary​.” End ID]

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Celebrity Crush, Part 1

Author’s note: I know I should be writing chapter 9 of Out of this World, but I finally watched The Bubble over the weekend and Dieter Bravo temporarily took over my brain. I promise that Din’s still in there and he’ll be back soon. This is just a cute little one off ficlet that will likely consist of a series of one-shots. If you like my writing, please feel free to check out my Din series Out of This World.

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Summary: Dieter Bravo makes a new friend and tries desperately not to fuck things up for once.

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, drug use (weed), light sexual tension, if you are under the age of 18 you are prohibited from this work of fiction. Minors DNI.

AO3

*****

Charming.

That’s the best word he can think of to describe the energetic, voluptuous woman before him. Sure, she’s fucking gorgeous and he’s already daydreaming about bending her over and fucking her right there in the secluded little corner of the coffee shop, but Jesus fucking Christ is she fucking charming. 

The ease with which she cracks silly jokes, laughing brightly at her own sense of humor. The genuine excitement she displays as she talks about things for which she feels passionately. The little smile she sends his way from across the table every now and again. He can tell she’s nervous, who wouldn’t be, but she’s handling herself so beautifully in spite of it. 

Dieter Bravo, currently living in New York for a lengthy stint in the theater, finds himself in the midst of the most cliché fucking meet cute of all time. She’d been rushing around the corner with an iced coffee in one hand and a phone in the other, and he’d been rushing around the same corner struggling to get a freshly rolled joint lit in the cool autumn breeze. Neither of them had been paying attention to their surroundings, and so the two had collided right into one another. His joint, broken in half and rendered useless, laid soaking in the creamy tan puddle from her fallen cup.

She’d apologized profusely, going so far as to offer him one of the THC gummies from her purse to make up for the destroyed joint. He tells her that he’ll only take a gummy if she’ll let him replace her coffee, to which she agrees. It’s the least he can do when it was equally his fault. His favorite spot for coffee is only a few blocks away, so he leads her there and they get to chatting along the way. He’s surprised by how easy she is to talk to while they are standing in line to order, and soon enough he’s seated across from her in a secluded booth on the second floor even though he’d intended to just replace the coffee and fuck off. Now she’s seated across from him at his usual table, the staff knows him well enough to make sure no one else sits near him while he’s there. The second floor of Hellfire Roasters, a satanic themed coffee shop, is all theirs until they choose to leave. 

Which turns out to not be for a long while. He wasn’t expecting to stay for very long. He figured that he’d get her the coffee, take the gummy, and move on with his day. But then he really gets to talking with her, and he can’t seem to physically pull himself out of this social interaction. He’s glued to his seat, even after the awkwardness of his identity is brought up and subsequently glossed over. She’d known who he was from the second they’d bumped into each other, but it doesn’t seem to effect how genuine she is. 

Apparently she just turned thirty, deciding to uproot her entire life to move to New York on a whim. She tells him that she woke up one day and realized that she couldn’t let her life pass her by anymore. So she threw away half of her belongings and emptied out her savings account to get a tiny little apartment with a friend of hers who also wanted to try out life in the big city. The gorgeous creature seated across from him wants to get into the film industry, horror specifically. She’d actually just been leaving a successful job interview to work on a very small indie film when he’d accidentally knocked her victory coffee from her hand. It’s endearing to hear her speak so bright eyed and bushy tailed about the industry which has been slowly sucking the life from him for the last couple of years. It reminds him of himself when he’d first started out, before he won the Oscar and everything slowly went to shit.

“So yeah, Fright Night from 1985 is the reason I decided I wanted to make monster movies.” She says, eyes sparkling.

He can’t help but grin over his cup, “I mean that’s a great reason, it’s such a great fucking movie that not enough people talk about. Classic 80s schlocky bullshit with John Hughes-ish teen high school kids thrown in? The Peter Vincent shit is also such a fun homage to Hammer Horror.”

“So you weren’t posturing, you do know your horror shit after all.” She sends a cheekily little grin his way, and he knows he’s fucking done for right then and there. 

“You’re pretty when you’re being a smart ass,” he flirts, hoping that it gets the point across without coming on too strong. He’s gotten a lot better when it comes to begging people he just met to fuck him.

“So I’ve been told.” Another cheeky grin finds her lips, this time with the straw of her pumpkin iced coffee nestled between her teeth before she takes a sip. He might start begging soon if she keeps that up.

“M’sure you have, muñequita,” he replies back. “So what specifically about Fright Night does it for you? Like, if this is your favorite movie of all time then there’s got to be multiple reasons.” 

She shrugs, “I dunno, I just love everything about it. The performances, the effects and make up, the humor, the unresolved vampire romance. It’s got everything.” 

“Unresolved vampire romance?”

Her eyes widen as she gawks at him. “Oh my god, do you not remember? When Jerry has that old painting in his house that looks like Amy, Amanda Bearse’s character, in the past. The one dude even says something like ‘she looks just like her’, and later in the movie Jerry just tells Amy something vague like ‘she’s someone I knew a long time ago.’ But that’s all they ever do with it. It used to piss me off that they didn’t go further into that backstory. Charley and Amy defeat Jerry and get to have a happy ending. What about Jerry’s happy ending? I’ve always wanted someone to make a monster movie where the monster actually succeeds in getting the girl, and when no movies like that ever came out I figured I just have to make it myself then.” 

He’s in awe of her, adoring every second of her passionate rantings. She even does little voices when saying the quotes from the film, and Dieter is practically in shambles because of this adorable movie nerd. “You might be the most interesting person I’ve met this year,” he says honestly when she’s finished.

She scoffs, waving him off. “It’s only October, you’ve still got a few months left.” 

He shakes his head, “I highly doubt I’m going to meet anyone better than you between now and January. Or ever, really.”

*****

You’re blushing, trying to hide how much what he just said affects you. This can’t be fucking real. This sort of thing happens in cringey fanfiction, not in real life. Play it cool, dickweed, you have to talk yourself off the ledge before addressing the Academy Award Winner before you. You have no idea how you’re still keeping yourself composed at this point, but he’s easy to talk to so that helps. It’s frankly shocking that he’s being so chill, given that his reputation as a wild man used to proceed him.

“Oh stop,” you gush, “I’m sure you’re going to meet someone way cooler than me later today. You’re Dieter fucking Bravo.”

Dieter shakes his head of messy brown hair, and watching it move about is mesmerizing. “Not a fucking chance! You take the cake, muñequita. I never meet people like you. You have good taste in horror, you’re charming.”

You shake your head, feeling the calming effects of the gummy as little waves of pleasure circulate through your nervous system. Hearing this man of all people say things like that to you might very well break you if you let it. So you change the subject, “I don’t know about you but I’m definitely high. I feel like my edible hit harder than I expected it to and all of this is in my head. Or when we bumped into each other, I actually fell and hit my head so now I’m in a coma. There’s no way I’m sitting across from you of all people, having a cup of coffee and a great conversation. I’ve lived in New York for a week and I’ve already had the best celebrity encounter of all time.”

“Who’s your favorite?” He asks suddenly, leaning forward a little as his brow swoops down to a more serious face. It’s nearly too much for you, how handsome he truly is suddenly taking hold.

“F-favorite what?”

“Celebrity,” he draws out the word, his voice driving you wild internally. Watching his hand gestures as he talks isn’t helping much either.

You choke on the pumpkin latte a little, your own brow shooting up towards your hairline. “I don’t know how to answer that,” you say earnestly. 

“Oh come on. We’re already here, you might as well just be honest.” Dieter pushes, practically poking at you with a stick. 

“You promise not to think I’m a lunatic stalker who ran into you on purpose?” 

“Promise.”

“Honestly? It’s you.” 

He scoffs, “You’re just saying that.” 

You chuckle, knowing you must look as awkward as you feel. “I’m pretty sure the original painting of yours that I have hanging in my living room would beg to differ. My mom special ordered it as a birthday slash housewarming gift because she knew I’ve always wanted one. Your style is so dark and raw. I love it.” 

*****  

Dieter can’t help it. The self centered part of him, the reason he enjoys being a celebrity despite the isolation, is so thrilled to hear this revelation from you. “So… why me? I’m curious.”

You mull this over for a long while, sipping from your iced coffee as you look at his face. It’s insane how calm you are right now. “There was that one horror movie you did early on in your career,” you start, being cut off for a moment when Dieter interrupts you.

“Oh fuck,” he says knowingly, “no one ever talks about that.” 

“I mean, it’s a little outdated at this point but you were so good in it. The fact that no one talks about it is such a crime. First you think its a ghost movie, then it turns out to be a slasher movie, and then you turn out to be the killer? What a fucking ride that was the first time I saw it. I had such a crush on you after that even though you were way older than me. Nearly wore out the VHS tape because I would watch your scenes over and over.” Then your hand flies to your mouth, unable to stop that last sentence before it already left your lips. “Oh Jesus, that is so embarrassing.”

Dieter chuckles, shaking his head as he grins at you. His earring is distracting. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Most people have a celebrity crush.” 

Your face is on fire. “Yeah but most people don’t get to have a cup of coffee and split an edible with their celebrity crush.” 

He leans back in his chair, taking a sip from his London fog. “I guess you should thank your lucky stars, then. And I should thank mine that you’re not a total fucking weirdo.” 

“Oh, I’m definitely a weirdo. Just not a stalker,” you chuckle, feeling at ease once again.

The two of you sit there for another two and a half hours, chatting about movies and music and drugs and everything else under the sun that you’re both interested in. He ends up ordering the both of you food when he realizes that he’s completely missed the lunch meeting he was supposed to have. Fuck ‘em. You are way more interesting than whoever he was supposed to meet. It wasn’t a meeting about a job, so fuck it. 

Dieter knows he could sit there and talk to you all night, but curtains go up in three hours and if he doesn’t get to the theater soon the director and his agent are going to actually kill him. He knows that one of the missed calls that just vibrated in his pocket has to have been one of them. You’re mid sentence about your favorite food, and he has to interrupt you even though it pains him to do so. 

Dieter looks you over after the interruption, and you can’t help but think that he looks almost nervous. “Sorry to cut you off, but I really have to get going. I’d say that I hate to be forward, but that would be a lie. Can I give you my number? It was really nice to meet you and get to know you a little. I wouldn’t mind seeing you again.” 

You’re so floored by this that your mouth hangs open and you nod dumbly. He holds his hand out expectantly and you just stare at it for a moment before realizing that he wants your phone. Plucking the thing out from your purse, you pull up the contact book and hand it over. Dieter smiles across the table at you, the tip of his tongue poking out from the left side of his mouth as he types. Then he takes a silly selfie. On your phone. Dieter Bravo just took a selfie on your phone. 

He hands your personal device back over, and you look down a the newly added contact.  It says “Celebrity Crush” instead of his name and the accompanying picture is the selfie he just bestowed upon you. Its the cutest picture of him you’ve ever seen, and you get to keep the only copy of it all to yourself. 

“Well if you get to do that then give me your phone,” you say, holding your hand out in the same way he had to you. He gives you a similar but newer model of the phone you’ve had for several years, so you make quick work of adding your contact information. After taking a similarly silly selfie and handing it back over, you chuckle as Dieter reads what you input into his contacts. 

“Coffee Shop Weirdo,” he reads out loud, “that’s perfect. And this picture is fucking cute.” 

“Thanks,” you blush, cheeks heating up. “You better get going, Bravo. Maybe I’ll come see your show next week.” 

Dieter’s face lights up, becoming that of a wound up puppy before a bowl of fresh kibble. “If you want to come tonight I’ll have them save you a ticket at the box office. Doesn’t have to be tonight if you’re busy, but if you’re not and you want to.”

“Are you sure it’s not too late notice? I heard it was sold out for opening week.” 

Dieter shoots you an incredulous look, “I’m the star. I can get you a fucking ticket.” 

After a millisecond of hesitation you agree, knowing that this entire day has been a once in a lifetime kind of day. From getting the job, to meeting Dieter, to this invitation. This is the kind of life changing shit you’ve been aching for. “Okay, sure. I’d love to see your acting chops live. I’ll just run home and change into something nice and head over to the theater.” 

“Perfect,” he breathes, grinning ear to ear. “I’ll be on the lookout for you after the show.” 

“Great, thank you. And thank you again for lunch. This was nice.” 

“Yeah it was, wasn’t it?” Then his phone starts vibrating with the fifth call in a row and he groans, tapping the green answer button with his ringed thumb and placing the thin device to his ear. He immediately pulls it back out a few inches with a grimace when the voice on the other end starts screaming at him. “Fuck, Barbra. You don’t have to fucking scream at me. I’ll be there soon, I’m only ten blocks from the theater.” 

You can hear the shrill female voice clearly ask, “What in the name of fuck was so important that you didn't come back from your lunch break for three fucking hours?”

Dieter looks directly to you and grins, “I was making a new friend.” 

“I swear to fucking god, Bravo. You better not be back to your old habits. You fucking promised me that shit was done. If you weren’t making me so much money right now I’d fucking kill you myself.” 

“Love you too, Babs. See you soon,” Dieter says cheerfully as he hangs up. 

“Sorry I got you into trouble,” you offer awkwardly, feeling a little bad that he’s late because of you even though you’re well aware that he could have left at any time. 

He stands, gesturing for you to join him as he laughs a little. “I can assure you that I’m the only one who ever gets myself into trouble, muñequita. Don’t worry about my agent, I can handle her. She’s a bitch and a half but they all are and she gets me good gigs like this Shakespeare show.” 

Dieter leads you to the exit of the coffee shop, leaving a generous tip with the barista on the way out. Once outside he dons his shades and pulls the collar of his black pea coat up in an attempt to not be noticed by anyone. He’s late enough as it is, he doesn’t need to stop for selfies fifty times on his way to work. 

“I really do hope you come to the show tonight,” he says, looking down at you as he scratches the back of his head. What you wouldn’t give to run your fingers through that fluffy hair of his.

You grin up at him, “It’ll be a close call with the train but if I’m quick about changing my clothes, I should make it back to this end of town just in time. I’ll be there, Dieter.” 

His very genuine smile melts your heart right then and there. Fuck, this is about to get complicated.  

“Great!” Your celebrity crush says, “See you tonight!” 

And then he’s gone as quickly as he had appeared, around a corner and out of sight in all but a moment. You head for the nearest train station, having to use your gps since you’re nowhere near accustomed to life in New York just yet. The city is so huge that it’s overwhelming when you’re tying to go somewhere quickly. 

After sending a text to your roommate that you’ll be home soon and that you have something fucking insane to tell him, you get ready to board the train heading towards your little apartment in Queens with a podcast playing in your ear buds. Soon enough, as in like an hour later, you’re back home and frantically looking for a nice dress to wear to Dieter’s play. It’s bad enough that fancy clothes aren’t really something you ever bothered to have on hand before moving to the city, but the fact that you’re not done unpacking doesn’t help your case either. 

“So you mean to tell me,” Henry, your best friend of over a decade and the only person crazy enough to move to New York with you, is standing in your doorway with a cup of instant noodles in his hands. He’s speaking between slurps of broth, “that the dude who I have to look at a hideous Funko Pop of whenever I go into the kitchen met you on the street, bought you lunch, gave you his number, and invited you to see his play for free? How much of those edibles did you take today?” 

“I’m not high, you fucking asshole.” Gritting your teeth, you glare at Henry before upending a box of clothes right on top of your bed. 

“Yes you are,” Henry grins, laughing as he dodges the small black throw pillow you throw his way.

You roll your eyes, digging around the pile of clothing, “Okay, yeah, I’m high. But I’m always a little high and everything I just told you really fucking happened. I showed you the picture he left in my camera roll, I can’t make this shit up!”  

Henry taps a finger to his chin, feigning deep thought. “How do I know that wasn’t from instagram and this isn’t some sort of break in your psyche because you read too much fanfiction about that space character he plays. You know, the funko pop in the kitchen?” 

“Oh god, I should delete my tumblr.” 

Just as you say that, your phone goes off with a little ding. A feeling you haven’t felt in a long time, titillating anticipation at a text from someone of the opposite sex, arises within you when you glance over and see the name of the contact.

“Oh my god. He fucking texted me,” you start to bounce around the room, “I can’t open it. What if he’s like ‘never mind don’t come and delete my number’?”

“You’re a crazy bitch, but I love you dearly,” Henry says, moving to grab your phone. You try to snatch it from him but he’s a good bit taller than you and holds it up so that you cannot reach. He unlocks the phone with ease, having known your password for years. “Two texts from ‘Celebrity Crush.’ Ugh, really? That’s so corny, but for some reason I don’t hate it.” 

“Oh my god you fucking dick, what did he say?!” You’re practically jumping up and down grabbing for your phone. 

“Text one: Your ticket is at the box office. I left them your name so just make sure you have your ID.” Henry reads the message, pretending to fan himself. “Oh my this is hot stuff. Text two… Oh… well this is quite a development.”

The way he says that makes you feel horrified, lunging for the phone once more. “What?! Is it a dick pic or something?!”

“Pfft, I wish. No, text two says: I can’t stop thinking about how good Fright Night is thanks to you. I haven’t seen it in years. If you’re not busy after the show, would you want to come back to my place and watch it?” Henry gapes at you, finally relinquishing the phone. 

“Holy shit. Holy shit! What do I say?” You look down at the two messages and then back up to your best friend with pleading eyes.

Henry looks you up and down, putting a hand on your shoulder.  “If this really isn’t you fucking with me, then for the love of Christ say yes!” 

You take a few deep breaths, “Okay, okay. I can do this. Go make me something to eat please so I can get dressed and get the fuck out of here.” 

Henry starts to leave your room but turns in the doorway to look back at you. “Wear the black dress from New Years 2018. Don’t pack anything, that way you have to wear his clothes if you spend the night. Speaking from personal experience, when your booty call wears your clothes its a huge turn on. And make sure your location is on so I can come rescue you if he’s a secret serial killer. I know you love him because he played one once, hopefully that was just a role.” 

“Noted. Go make me food before I throw something at you, please.” You send a joker-like grin his way and watch as your best friend walks off with a laugh. Then you glance back down to your messages with Dieter, seeing that he’s typing again. 

Celebrity Crush: Hey sorry to bother you again, just wanted to say no pressure about coming over. I know we just met. 😅

Feeling badly about leaving him hanging long enough to make him doubt himself, you quickly tap out a response. 

Coffee Shop Weirdo: Hey Dieter, thanks again for scoring me a ticket. If you think you’ll really feel up to it after preforming, I’d love to come over and watch Fright Night with you. 😊

The typing bubble pops up immediately after your text shows as read, causing a little smile to tug at your lips and a flutter in your belly. 

Celebrity Crush: Great! I’m looking forward to seeing you again. Stay put after the show and I’ll come find you. 

Coffee Shop Weirdo: I’m looking forward to seeing you again too. So glad you knocked my coffee out of my hands today. 

Celebrity Crush: Oh so it was all me now, huh? I see how it is, muñequita. 🤨

You highlight the word muñequita, clicking the translate button to confirm that it’s Spanish for little doll, and your grin widens even more.

Coffee Shop Weirdo: You flirting with me, Bravo?

A moment goes by with the message having been read, then the typing bubble pops up again. 

Celebrity Crush:  Yeah, if you’re okay with that.

Coffee Shop Weirdo: I’m definitely okay with that.

Celebrity Crush: I’m getting called away. Wont be able to message you again until the show’s over. Be safe getting to the theater, see you soon. 

Coffee Shop Weirdo:  See you soon. Break a leg 🦴 

After sending the last text, you manage to find the black dress from 2018 that Henry suggested. He’s right, its perfect. Floor length with a slit up the right thigh, the sparkly long sleeved gown is perfect for the occasion you so desperately need it for. True to your own sense of style, you pair it with ankle length black combat boot platforms and black accessories. 

Henry brings you a cup of noodles which you practically inhale before getting dressed and quickly attending to your hair and makeup. 

Soon enough you’re back on the train, heading for the theater district feeling as if you’re living someone else’s life because this can’t possibly be yours. 

*****

@missbabyjay you’re welcome 😉

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #dieter x reader #pedro pascal characters #the bubble #reader insert #x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x female reader #pedro pascal x reader #Pedro pascal character x reader

[nsuiswitch]

Sleepless Nights

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Pairing: Joel Miller x Gender Neutral Reader, platonic relationship with Ellie Williams

Word Count: 3.0k

Summary: During their short rest in Wyoming, reader begins to panic about their future life (and love), Joel unknowingly stirs the pot.

Warnings: some angst, self-doubt and panic from reader and some eventual fluff, forehead smooches, age gap (reader is mentioned to be in their early to mid-twenties post college, Joel’s age remains the same) requited/unrequited love, not sticking to plot timeline (I just love stretching out their time in Jackson because the possibilities are endless!) no use of Y/N. GENDER NEUTRAL, NO IMPLIED OC

A/N: This is quite literally the first real thing I’ve ever written in my life, so please, for the love of god, go easy on me!!!!! I wrote this late one night when I was sad and couldn’t get any sleep, this just word vomited out of me. I love the TLOU so damn much, and my brain has never recovered from this obsession since I discovered it. I’m never gonna get over Joel, I would sell my soul to speak to that man for two seconds. I’m such a whore for him. I hope you enjoy this ^^

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Somehow, two days in Jackson, Wyoming felt longer than all the time it took to get here. The gated town left you with much to adjust to. Your long months on the road had you, Joel and Ellie very accustomed to survival mode, spending most days on high alert, with miles to go and often on an empty stomach. Sometimes, the only thing that kept you moving was the fear of staying in the same place for too long.

And now, it was as though none of that ever happened. Like somehow, all the atrocities that occurred, all the little pieces of yourself you’d left behind, had disappeared beyond the town’s gates. How strange it was, after months of trekking through deep wood and the dilapidated remains of cities, to stumble upon a place so normal and human.

Even as the day faded, and evening darkened the skies, just outside the window of your room, you could hear laughing, kids whining, and the rustling of people going about their lives. Sounds of life outside your own, that weren’t a cause for concern, kept your heart full through the winter nights.

But, this didn't alleviate all your worries. After all, you knew your time here would eventually be cut short.

"We'll stay, just for a little while, maybe a week or so. It’ll give us a chance to rest, get back on our feet.”

Seven days seemed longer then, when Joel had first mentioned it. Now, you couldn't help but feel like things were a bit more complicated.

Over the last few months, Joel had warmed up to both you and Ellie. Somehow, you’d managed to break through some of his rough exterior. Now you’d found a different side of Joel accompanying you on your trip. He didn't respond curtly anymore, he managed to string together a sentence or two, even if you’d asked him something stupid. Whenever you and Ellie would go back and forth, arguing over something trivial or when she'd pull out yet another genius pun from her favorite book, you'd see the ghost of a smile briefly flash over his face.

If that wasn't enough, you couldn't help but feel like the air between you two had changed significantly. It didn’t feel friendly, it felt like something more. It was delicate, and had you not been paying any mind to it, maybe you wouldn’t have noticed.

How gentle he was with you, the way his gaze or his hands would linger a moment longer than necessary.

Sometimes, on sleepless nights, when Ellie was fast asleep, you two would talk, and he'd open up far more than you'd ever expected. Even if he backpedaled and closed himself off shortly after, it still mattered to you that he tried. That he cared enough to even bother.

And you couldn't deny that you'd felt something, too. From the very beginning, it was always more than just close quarters or loneliness, you took to Joel. You honestly didn't know why, God knows you didn't have much in common. When the pandemic hit, you were in your last year of university. By then, Joel had likely lived through far more than you possibly imagine at that time, all bright-eyed and overly optimistic despite your academic stresses.

It didn’t make sense, but there were these moments, ones on the road (for the few days you had Bill’s truck), quiet conversations during your long hikes and in cramped up corners that you feel safe. He made you feel so warm and loved, despite his coldness. You wanted nothing more than to reach in and drag out the person he was before all this, before he lost his daughter, and before the world broke.

Now that he’d found Tommy safe and sound, you couldn't help but think about the end of your journey. Hell, everything about being here made you think about the future. About the family you never thought you would have.

Before Cordyceps, your ties to blood family were loose and your friendships even looser. You never had much to cling to. During your college years, while you were still figuring yourself out, you never managed to find any company along the way. You only existed in brief, awkward interactions that never stained anyone’s minds long term. You felt insignificant and while you valued your freedom, the thought of dying alone kept you up many nights.

Now, you felt like you were losing something near and dear to you. It felt like only days ago that Joel was pointing a gun to your face and now, you couldn’t live without him. Deep down, every part of your being wanted to keep living this way, pandemic or otherwise, with Ellie and Joel. It didn't matter, whether you stayed in Wyoming or not. You knew there were no other people in the world you could’ve taken this trip with.

You just wished this whole “love” thing was a bit easier. It made you envy the shows you’d watched as a kid, where the main characters would quickly admit their love for one another (romantic or otherwise) and then they’d happily march into the sunset, hand in hand, to continue on their goofy and heartfelt adventures.

There were no words to describe how badly you wanted that. A fade to black, a happy ending wrapped in a bow that didn't require any hard conversations. One where you didn't have to look Joel in the eyes and bare your soul out to him, knowing full well he might reject you just to save himself (and you) any further pain. In the rare moments that he would hold your gaze, all your confidence left you. You were far from a wayward teen or a child, but for those quick seconds you felt like you’d been hiding a rose behind your back, like your eagerness to love him was written all over your face.

Even after casting all your feelings for Joel aside, what would come of Ellie? What about the cure?

It wasn't something you three had spoken much about. After all, she was just a kid, who didn't deserve any more stress or worry. You only towed the topic gently when she’d brought it up, but, even after all this time, you were still unsure.

What would happen if it worked?

It was hard to imagine the world regaining any form of structure, even with a cure. The brutality, and the bloodshed you’d all seen, was caused by humans just as much as it was from infected.

Humanity was broken on a different level, one Ellie’s blood could not reach.

And what about afterward?

Ellie would still need someone to look after her. And you knew damn well you weren’t going to leave her at the mercy of strangers. Fireflies or not. It didn’t matter, not after everything you’d been through.

You felt like a sibling to her, but also like a parent. She looked to both you and Joel for direction. If you’d asked something of her, she’d do it, even if it was in between her usual teenage sass. On the other hand, the age gap between the two of you wasn’t as large as you and Joel’s. It was all too easy to fall into chaotic banter and get on each other’s nerves. You’d spent plenty of travel time pestering each other to keep the days short.

More than anything, you felt a responsibility for her that you hadn’t felt for anyone else.

Now, you'd take a bullet for her, without hesitation, and those feelings don't just die in a week. Cure or no cure.

So, maybe that was your happy ending. You’d get to be the parent-sibling, and you'd stay with her. Asking Ellie to be your travel buddy seemed a hell of a lot easier than admitting your feelings to Joel. Just the idea of it made you sick.

Asking him to stay with you. Begging him not to leave.

You could feel the rejection now, even though the words had never been said. The image of you, outside, your face hot, tears threatening to spill, as you watched Joel's figure blur and disappear into the distance was too much to bear.

You knew your confession would kill you. After that, you would never be whole again. But you couldn't not know. You needed to be absolutely certain of Joel’s feelings. If you never asked him, you'd regret for the rest of your life.

It was this stream of thoughts, circling through your head in a never ending chaos, that kept you from sleep's embrace.

You tossed, turned and cursed at yourself. Since yesterday, you planned to be up as early as possible as not to waste the little time you had in Jackson, and your internal dialogue was getting you nowhere. Staring at the ceiling was not helping to make these life-altering decisions any easier. Still, You couldn't let this rest. You needed to know what would happen next for you. Who would decide your fate. And until you did, you wouldn't rest, either.

The sound of the front door creaking open and shuffling took you away from your spiraling mind. You jumped a bit, more than you'd care to admit but, you were miles away and weren't expecting anyone at the house.

Joel had spent all day with his brother, catching up on lost time, so you and Ellie had been left to fend for yourselves.

Maria's tour of the commune had left you with a vague memory of where to go, but since you'd managed to navigate miles and miles of forest (mainly by following Joel's command) you figured your determination and Ellie's snark would get you through.

And it did. You found more than enough to occupy yourselves. After a shower and a hot meal, you scoured every inch of the commune (or one long street at least). You’d passed by some shops, the movie theater once more, and settled by the horse stables to cool off.

Once the sun started to set, and since you hadn't run into Joel at any point throughout the day (though you secretly hoped you would) you decided it’d be best to walk back to your rooms before it got too dark. You’d likely touch base with Joel in the morning, though the thought did nothing to ease your nerves.

Right now, you felt like you couldn't even look at him, not with all of this running through your head. If you didn’t get a chance to bury all of this deep down, you’d melt in the morning sun. All you wanted was some time, and a good night’s sleep would do the trick.

As the footsteps grew louder, you rolled over and tried your best to look asleep. You felt like a little kid now, trying to hide that you’d stayed up past your bedtime. You had felt like this more often than you wanted to with Joel. Not because of his doing, but, what could possibly make you think that someone like him would want to pursue you? You were barely into your 20s, and never had a chance to experience the world before it all feel apart. You were so inexperienced, immature, and there was no way he didn’t see some of that in you. In his mind, you were just like Ellie. A kid to look after, nothing more. And while you’d had some pleasant times together, there was no way in hell that would stir up romantic feelings in him.

You shut your eyes, hoping to hide from yourself and him, should he decide to visit.

Joel’s room was on the floor below yours, so the moment you heard shuffling up the staircase, your heart skipped.

You figured, in Joel fashion, he had probably come upstairs to check on both of you, especially considering he hadn’t seen you the whole day, but you could not, for the life of you, calm down. How dumb it would have looked to find you, all scrunched up uncomfortably in bed, under the dim light. To save yourself the embarrassment, you did your best to loosen up and sink into the mattress.

Ellie's room was a door from yours, and closest to the stairs. It creaked open softly, and the footsteps disappeared inside for just a moment, merging with the silence. Then after a time, out they came, and the door creaked again ever so slightly as it met the hinges.

You’re next.

You felt like you were in a horror movie with extremely trivial consequences.

Laying there all stiffened up, trying to look as peacefully asleep as you possibly could, you waited for your door to inevitably open. After a moment it did, and even with your eyes closed, you knew it was Joel.

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Joel was anxious to get back to the house as soon as possible. This had been the longest time in the last few months that he’d been apart from both you, and Ellie.

He knew, in the back of his mind, that there wasn’t any real danger. He also knew that you were a grown ass adult, fully capable of handling themselves, teenage company included, and had proven so time and time again, but against all logic, he just couldn't scratch the itch. It bothered him all damn day; he needed to see for himself that his newest passengers were still safe and sound.

Joel had settled things with Tommy, and, was happy to catch up and see the life his younger brother had created for himself. Even with all the feelings Tommy’s pregnancy announcement had stirred up within him.

Still, in between their conversations, Joel’s mind kept crawling back to the same people. The cargo he’d at one point, been praying to get rid of. Now, he missed the two of them, plain and simple.

He wanted to hear their little quips and snide remarks, along with the warm laughs both you and Ellie drew out of each other with the dumbest jokes. The combination of cautious optimism during the travels, hearing your footsteps as a whisper behind him during silent days, brought him a comfort he hadn't known for years. Both your presence and Ellie’s soothed him, in a way he hadn't felt since Sarah’s passing.

You drew him back, against his better judgement, to feelings and a past that he'd tried so desperately tried to bury. And now, no matter how hard he tried to keep it at bay, everything kept crawling back to the surface.

But Joel didn't want to think about all that now. There was no easy solution. He just wanted to see the both of you safe and fast asleep. Then he could get a much-needed night's rest and figure out the rest later.

Too much of the town domesticity had made him soft. A little part of him, one that he dare not acknowledge, started to ache for this little family of sorts. Ellie, witty as ever, and you by his side. As much as it killed him to admit, it didn’t sound so bad.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

You laid there, stiff as a board, as you felt Joel move around the bed frame, coasting the edge until he stood right beside your head.

You felt his warmth all over you. He smelled like the outside but not in a bad way, it was his usual earthy musk and, as he leaned closer, the lingering scent of whiskey. He'd no doubt shared a few drinks with Tommy, and now you’d wished he'd stayed longer instead of torturing you with this sudden proximity.

You felt his hand slide over your forehead, gently, as to not “wake” you and then, of all the things he could've done, he leaned over you and gently pressed his lips to your temple.

And god, you hated him for it.

For all the feelings he stirred up in you.

It was as though, he'd felt your yearning, that big ugly mess of feelings you couldn't deal with, and decided to add fuel to the fire.

Damn it Joel.

You wanted to shove him away. Better that than you getting bold enough to pull him closer and beg him to stay the night. You’d never wanted anyone else the way you wanted Joel. It felt like only days ago that you’d thought he was a complete asshole, that you’d be celebrating being back in the QZ. What happened?

"G'night darling" Joel whispered over the soft sounds from outside.

God, the things he could to do to you with just two fucking words.

There were so many times you thought could move past your feelings and focus on the long journey ahead, for both your sake and Ellie's.

But everything he did stirred something in you. Every moment of tenderness he'd shown both you and Ellie when you skipped a step or fell behind for a second too long.

It was his fucking smile. The little suggestion of it that peered through when Ellie managed to get a rise out of him, despite the grumpy old man that he was.

You hated it, how he was always so close to you and yet a million miles away. Maybe, if you had met him in a different world or another universe, you wouldn't of thought twice about him, but right now it mattered so damn much, This is all you ever wanted and needed in this cruel life. Every day and night, you ached for him.

And now it was his presence, all encompassing and unwavering, shrouding you from the moonlight, protecting you from any danger that'd ever dare to close your path. It was his honeyed voice and southern drawl, silently promising to wrap you up in a warm coat for the rest of your days.

But, as quickly as it happened, it was over, and once again he was tip-toeing over the hardwood floors and closing your door. He left, and you knew after that, there wouldn't be a moment of sleep.

Long after his steps grew distant, and the building went still once again, you couldn't move. You laid still, just as you'd been before, searching the pale walls for answers, for anything to quell the fire building up in you.

Gif Credits to: @ // trashcora

Despite all of your doubts, uncertainty and the possibility of future pain, your mind and body were burning for him.

#joel miller #tlou #tlou fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x gn reader #the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel the last of us #joel x reader #joel tlou #joel miller tlou #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #joel millee x gn! reader #x reader #pedro pascal character x reader #pedro pascal the last of us #pedeo pascal joel miller #joel miller oneshot #hbo the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us hbo #joel miller imagine #tlou imagine #Tumblr #fanfiction

[littleferal]

Consider: Frankie saying something that makes you laugh in surprise while you two are in the middle of it and he gasps, stilling in his movements before looking up at you in something akin to awe for a moment. He continues lazily running his hand over your side and he says in the most earnest and reverent tone, “I felt that. Inside you.” (Bc numero 1: HOT and numero 2: Laughing during sex is the best feeling, I feel like he’d be the easiest one to find that with)

i am considering...and i like it >:)

-- -- -- -- --

The laugh breaks from you at the same time as Frankie slides home. It shifts rapidly to a gasp that takes you breath. You arch into his contact, reaching for him, desperate for more - fuller, deeper, again - as his forehead drops between your breasts.

“Fuck baby,” he gasps out, hot and damp against your skin. “Fuck.”

“I blame you,” you murmur. There’s no bite in your words, just heady pleasure swimming through your system. Your head rolls to the side, your hips up into full contact with Frankie’s as you chase the feeling again with lazy rolls. His palms are fast to find them, one gripping firm, the other sliding a familiar path up along your side and anchoring behind your shoulder.

“Fuck,” he mutters again. “I felt that baby.”

“Felt what?”

“That,” he breathes, punctuated with a deep grind inside you that causes you to gasp and tighten around him again. Your nails dig into the round of his shoulders, legs hooking around his waist as you pull yourself into him. When he looks up, he sees the lazy grin on your face. “You know.”

This time you do it intentionally, just to watch his face slacken with pleasure. You pay attention to his mouth falling open, his eyes closing, mentally tracing his features. When it’s passed Frankie shuffles up on his elbows with a soft laugh of his own.

“Trouble.” It’s said affectionately as he nudges your nose with his own. The look that follows is soft, bearing something akin to awe, inhaled into him as you tighten around him once more.

“Do it again.”

“Make me laugh then Frankie.”

With a kiss pressed to your lips he whispers, “ok.”

talk to me 🌙 + thirsty thursday

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal character x reader #anon asks #asks #i feel like this was you dia #from a loooooooong time ago :")

[dino-fart]

Heartbreak and Headaches

Pairing: No Outbreak!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Genre: Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Summary: You have had the week of your life and finally have come downtime. Too bad life had other plans and your fence breaks. You hire a contractor to fix it and it seems like he can fix more than the fence.

Summary | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Tagging: @deepbatched, @vikingqueen28, @leonkennedyslefthand, @stewardofningishzida, @icytrickster17, @onlinecemetery, @marki-moo0, @absolute-not-original, @creamecafe, @scrubb, @nightingal3-tales, @alliethedaydreamer, @strangesthirdeye, @alexa-33, @zombiedixon89, @sunnsettee, @deliciousfestsalad, @kiaradaniell, @freyafriggafrey, @criticalroleobssedperson, @avengersfan25, @lunamoonbby, @androgynouspersonapricotfan, @foxcantswim, @namorkawaiiwife, @starkiller-queen, @kyuupidwrites, @luciamajer, @renatas10, @ayamenimthiriel, @gaiagurl05, @dipsylou, @pinkthick, @hansai, @andywinter16, @iambored24601, @3-cheese-tortellini, @cumbrbatchbenedict, @ironstrange1991, @aribas-stuff, @rianumochi, @vibaracal, @lostpirateinwonderland​    

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal character x reader

[blushingsnail64]

Soft

Joel x Reader drabble(?)

Last of us (2023)

[FLUFF] [SFW] [SHORT AND SWEET]

[DURING OUTBREAK]

[PRE-ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP]

Sorry for so many words

----

Most of the time you had no reason to touch him, you just wanted to. You reached over at one point while in the passenger seat of the truck and gently brushed through part of his hair. Ellie was asleep in the back of the truck so this was the perfect time. There was no real response from him as he's used to it since this your usual behavior, but that doesn't mean he doesn't like it.

After a few minutes, you yet again reached over and brushed his hair, now with your full hand. Combing entirely through while avoiding moving his head or impairing his focus on the road, which made your touch incredibly tender which he noticed. You let your hand rest on the back of his neck now, gently brushing your thumb back and forth, tucking your pinky and ring finger under his collar.

"Hm?" He expressed, with a warm softness to it. You took a drawn out inhale before responding "..Nothin'...... don't mind me..." you said softly, not wanting to wake Ellie. You could see his cheeks flush slightly. For such a tough man, you could undo him so easily. He took a deep breath and you continued your minor affectionate display before sliding your hand down his arm, pushing his hand open and running your fingers up his palm and up his fingers as you matched your hand to his. You rotated your wrist and interlocked your fingers. Again you gently rubbed your thumb across his knuckle. He raises your hand to his mouth and planted a kiss in the center, and another one closer to your wrist. You relaxed in your seat and your joined hands rested easy on his lap. Maybe, despite everything that has happened, theres a bright side afterall

#last of us 2023 #last of us #last of us joel x reader #joel x reader sfw #last of us sfw #sfw last of us x reader #sfw joel x reader #sfw joel last of us x reader #lous #lous 2023 #pedro pascal character x reader #last of us fluff #joel miller

[free-for-all-fics]

I’m such a nerd for Greek Mythology and the tale of Eros and Psyche is one of my favorites so this prompt happened. This got long but I regret nothing. That’s how much I love this myth lol. Pls tag me if you’re inspired by any of the ideas presented here and I’d love to read it! 💜

Eros and Psyche AU: Mandalorians are gods, the last vestiges of an Ancient Way long past. They are so few and sightings of them are incredibly rare. Their temples lay empty and abandoned, devoid of followers and worship offerings. Din is one of these great and lonely gods, and spends his immortal life keeping to himself - until he’s called upon for a favor. He’s very selective about who he appears to. Most entreaties go unanswered since he finds them to be frivolous, petty, or otherwise a waste of his time and energy. Someone enters his temple and asks him to track you down and bring you in, warm or cold. He was going to ignore it, but then he saw your beauty through a holopuck and became entranced.

Despite what he’s offered as reward, he doesn’t agree to anything. When he finally finds you, Din sees that you have a small green creature that looks like a child attached at your hip. You have Grogu and he’s your adoptive son (like the fill-in for Hedone). You enter a temple and humbly pray to him for love and protection. If not for you, then for Grogu. Seeing how earnest you are, Din reveals himself to you. He knew that, based on how you reacted, you were different from other targets. He can tell when someone is lying to get out of facing punishment when they’re guilty, so seeing you with a child and how scared you are that something might happen to Grogu makes Din realize that you’re innocent. He asks what you have to offer him in return for granting your boon. When you sheepishly admit you have nothing but yourself, he accepts your offering.

Instead of capturing or killing you, he fakes your death/disappearance and whisks you away to a faraway planet that’s not on any map, where it’s safe for you to live together. Over time, you fall in love. You’ve never seen his face, not even a glimpse of his mouth since you’d always eat separately. When you’ve made love, it’s always been under the cover of pitch blackness, too dark to see your own hands in front of you - or you’re blindfolded so you can’t see a thing. He doesn’t let you travel the galaxy with him and makes you stay home, forbidding you from leaving the planet or having guests while he’s gone.

He deems it too dangerous or risky to take you with him on adventures after all he did to fake your death/disappearance and bring you to this secret place. Anyone could recognize you then report your location back to the person who wanted you in the first place. Or worse: the other mandalorians could discover your existence and that he’s smuggled a mortal into a realm of the gods. You’re not too happy with this argument, since he himself has spent a considerable amount of time teaching you how to fight so you wouldn’t be left defenseless whenever he was called away. He made sure not to go easy on you during your training. You think he’s just trying to scare you to get you to stay in isolation.

You’ve been living in peace and safety, but unbeknownst to Din, you’re periodically visited by Luke Skywalker whenever he’s away. The Jedi sensed Grogu through the Force long before you even met Din. He has been training the little one to master his abilities ever since. He’s a dear and trusted friend of yours who keeps you company in Din’s absence so the loneliness doesn’t consume you. He’s always gone before Din returns home. You’re friends and nothing more. You’d never betray Din like that, you just find it unfair he forbids you from having even one guest.

One day, you and Din find yourselves in a dire life or death situation. Din gets wounded in the head by a weapon of legend that has the power to weaken or kill gods. After he takes the killing blow meant for you, you’re uncertain if he’s alive. So you have to take his helmet off to make sure he’s still breathing. It doesn’t matter how quickly he reacts by putting his helmet back on or how urgently he tries to rush you through exchanging Mando’a wedding vows so he can save you from the wrath of the other gods. They already know. The damage has been done. You’ve seen his face. He’s broken his creed and your “marriage” is annulled by the mandalorians. Neither you nor Grogu are under their protection. You’re both banished from the planet at once, while Din is kept locked away under house arrest and incapacitated due to his wounds.

You’re told that your only hope of earning redemption for both you and Din is to travel to the depths of Mandalore, the first ever dwelling of the gods, and bathe in the Living Waters. You must bring back a vial of the waters as proof. Only the Living Waters can heal Din’s wounds. You’re warned that no living creature has ever survived the harrowing journey to the mines down below. It’s said the atmosphere is poisonous and only the gods may enter. But still you press on.

You’re left to fend for yourself and your son, but you’re tired of running and hiding. Time to fight for your love. It takes many days and nights, but you finally make it to Mandalore. Even though Din is extremely weak and can barely control his powers in his current state, he uses what little energy he has to astral project himself. He appears to you briefly so he can guide you through the mines. He knows this quest would be impossible to complete on your own and he loves you too much to watch you die. With or without Grogu’s help, you use what Din taught you in order to survive. You come out victorious, but not unscathed, after such a grueling series of trials.

As you submerge yourself in the Living Waters, you’re taken aback when all of your wounds are healed. You feel rejuvenated. You retrieve a vial of the waters and journey back, only thinking of Din. Meanwhile, Din has drained all his energy and can no longer see you. He doesn’t know if you’ll make it back or not, but he hopes you will. He wants to marry you properly. He wants to make you his riduur and adopt Grogu as his son. As he convalesces, he can only think of you and how there’s one thing about the water you still don’t know. Something he so desperately wanted to tell you but never got the chance to.

Upon your long awaited return, the waters are used to heal Din’s wounds. The success of your quest has been proven. Thus, you’re both redeemed and the banishment is lifted. Din takes the vial from you and slices his finger open, letting drops of his blood mix with the remaining water before the wound instantly closes as if it was never there. Countless living creatures have died, killed, or been killed in the vain pursuit of this - The secret to immortality. And now Din wants to share it with you. Just one drink of the Living Waters infused with mandalorian blood and you’ll be like him. You’ll never age, never get sick, never die. You’ll be beautiful forever. He won’t have to lose you to the shadow of death. He implores you to drink and join him in eternity as his riduur. What do you choose?

#din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin au #pedro pascal character x reader #random idea #random prompt #Eros and psyche AU #eros and psyche #Greek mythology AU #pls tag me if you write this #i’d love to read it #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fic

[hardlyinteresting]

No Rest For the Weary

(GIF from @pedrohub )

Frankie Morales x Female!reader (no Y/N)

And then the baby cries. He can't help the way his body nearly jumps at the sudden burst of noise through the baby monitor. But in a way, it soothes him, a final reminder of where he is, who he is. A reminder that there is life beyond the chaos and bloodshed played on repeat in his head. Warnings: nightmares, mentions/description of blood/violence, Tom, the reader is Frankie's wife and mother of his child (implied afab reader), implications of past drug use, mention of religion (Christianity) I think that's everything. If you want me to add anything just let me know!

“Frankie, Frankie!” his name is being called from somewhere in the distance, somewhere beyond the howling wind. It’s cold. So cold. “Frankie!” the voice calls again. His eyes snap open. Tom? The man shakes him by his shoulders. “What’s happening?” Frankie begs for an update, “Tom?” He gets no response, just Tom shaking, shaking, shaking him. Staring blankly down at him, blood dripping from his face. “Tom? Talk to me! What’s going on?” His heart pounds as he tries desperately to sit up and look around, but Tom holds him down, not moving. Not speaking. The wind howls. “Frankie!” The voice from before calls again. “Pope?” Frankie tries, “Will? Benny?” Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Just Tom. Bleeding. God, he’s bleeding so much. “Frankie!”

His eyes open again, only this time it’s for real. He hopes it’s real. The familiar cream-coloured walls, a soft pillow beneath his head. His skin is sticky with sweat, his heart racing, breaths coming in huffs and puffs. “Frankie?” the voice is closer now. Softer, gentler, but more in focus, more tangible than his dream. “Precosia?” “Yeah, I’m right here,” she whispers. It takes him a second, but then he’s taking her hand. Holding tightly, grounding himself to the feeling of her thumb rubbing gentle circles on the back of his hand, the other hand combing through his curls, as they have many times before. He missed this when he was gone. 

They lay like that, only silence between them. The speed of his breathing slowly returns to normal, and he’s reminded of all the times they’ve laid like this before. An uncountable number of nights long before this last mission, long before the baby was born, before they got married. Just being, trying to reconnect with real life in the aftermath of their traumas. Nightmares and flashbacks, both of their minds so vicious in the limbo of sleep. They hold each other, real-life seeping back in. 

And then the baby cries. He can't help the way his body nearly jumps at the sudden burst of noise through the baby monitor. But in a way, it soothes him, a final reminder of where he is, who he is. A reminder that there is life beyond the chaos and bloodshed played on repeat in his head.

“I'll get her,” she speaks softly, giving his hand a good squeeze before pulling away. Rolling out of bed, leaving the left side of his body cold. 

“Can you bring her in here?” He hesitates to ask.

But she smiles softly, nodding, “she probably just needs fed. I'll be back in a second”. 

He watches in awe as his wife feeds and burps, and changes the baby. Her smile is infectious as she helps him settle the baby against his chest, before snuggling back down into the duvet, tucking herself against his side. She does her best to stay awake, but he can see the way her eyes start to betray her, fluttering shut. “Sleep,” he whispers. “You okay?” She asks, eyes still shut. “I’m okay. Sleep. I love you”. “Love you, Frankie”. 

He doesn’t dare to fall asleep again. Instead, he occupies his mind thinking of things that need to be done around the house; he makes a mental inventory of errands to run, lightbulbs to change, and dripping taps to fix. The baby stirs, wiggling into a slightly different position, her big brown eyes peering up at him. “It’s too early to be awake, sweetheart,” he mumbles as she nuzzles against him. He pays more attention to her breathing, waiting until she’s fallen asleep again before bringing his hand up to rest on her back. She’s grown so much since he last saw her, but she’s still so tiny, so fragile. He thinks about how his hand covers most of her little body. He thinks about how he wishes that he could hold his wife impossibly closer than she is already. His whole world is laying in his arms right now. This is what he lives for. 

It had been easy enough for him to convince himself that the nightmares would pass. That these flashbacks were going to fade. He'd worked so hard to “get better” before, he could do it again. Right? But they don't pass. They get worse; more vivid, more violent. It's been two weeks now and he tries not to sleep. He holds his wife, and stares at the ceiling. Insisting that he'll get up and look after the baby when she cries, or starts to stir. And then he sits in the rocking chair in the corner of the room, the tiny baby curled against his chest, tucked beneath his chin. He relaxes his shoulders inhaling the soft scent of baby powder. Placing gentle kisses to the top of her head, holding back his breathy laughs when the soft tufts of her hair tickle his nose. But calm as he is, he doesn't sleep. He holds himself to wakefulness. Keeping watch.

His lack of sleep doesn't go unnoticed. The dark circles under his eyes seem to get darker every day. Each morning she wakes to find his side of the bed vacant, and the nursery empty. Frankie greets her in the kitchen with their daughter. Pouring coffees and making breakfast. He's shaky and high-strung. An anxious energy follows him like a low-pitched ‘buzz’. She does her best to ignore it. To let him work it out on his own. If he wants her help, he'll ask for it. Right? But her own anxiety builds as weeks become months. She tries to remind herself that they've been here before, that this too shall pass. But still, she worries. And him too taking phone calls and leaving the room, and his new habit of late-night drives set off the alarm bells in her head. They've been here before, and her heartaches at the thought. She tries to shake it, push it to the back of her mind, and push the nausea back down. 

It's not that she's ashamed of him, or cross with him. Never. Not Frankie. But the idea of him being in that much pain again; the idea of him using again to escape that pain is what makes her angry. Furious. 

She listens as the front door opens and closes downstairs. The sound of Frankie checking the lock before he pads as quietly as possible up the old farmhouse steps to the second floor. So quiet, so precise, so careful with every step. There's no question that he was a soldier, passing silently through the house for anyone with an untrained ear. But she hears him. He passes their bedroom and continues down the hall to the nursery. 

And that's where she finds him, leaning over the crib. 

“Frankie?” She whispers as she enters the room not wanting to startle him. 

“What are you doing up, baby?” He asks turning to look at her, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. Sweet, sweet, soft she thinks, a gentle smile gracing her lips as she nears him, wrapping her arms around his middle, her face squished against his back. 

“She's so peaceful,” he says, one strong hand resting so gently on the sleeping baby's belly, rising and falling with her little breaths. 

“I love you,” he says after a moment, “both of you. So much”.

“I love you too Frankie. And the baby does too,” she assures him, giving him a squeeze, “I was thinking about her name. Her birth certificate has to be sent in by the end of next week”.

“I can't believe it's been three months already,” Frankie sighs. 

“I was thinking we should name her after your mother, Frankie”.

He stills, thinking for a moment, “you would do that for me?”

“Your mother was a wonderful woman, and Isabella is a beautiful name. Our daughter deserves a beautiful name”.

“Isabella,” he mumbles, looking down at his daughter, trying out the name. It's perfect. 

It's the first time since he's been home that he looks truly relaxed even if it's just for a moment. 

“Come to bed,” she says. 

“I will in a minute,” he promises. 

It's almost an hour later before he crawls into bed with her. He knows she's still awake so he just holds his arm open knowing she'll tuck herself against his side. She does.

“Frankie?”

“Mm?” 

“You know you can talk to me about it, right? You know that?”

His breath hitches, “yeah, I know Cariño”.

His promise calms her enough for her to submit to sleep. He lays awake. 

He's been meeting his sponsor every night for weeks now. The nightmares got worse, and his sobriety token started to weigh heavy in his pocket. He knows she worries. He should tell her. But, he can't bring himself to. A deep and sinking part of him feels more ashamed now than he ever has for needing help. In the past he had opened himself up, let her in, let her help shoulder the load. But it doesn't feel so simple anymore. This wasn't a mission he went into with the flag on his shoulder, it was about greed and self-profit. The choices he made weren't orders from his superiors; or his government. And there's a guilt that lingers every time he looks at Isabella. How many weeks had his wife looked after her all alone, without rest? She asked him not to go and he should've listened. He can't ask for her help now. What good has he done? What has he done to deserve her help? He’d only agreed to go because they needed the money because he fucked up badly enough that his license was in jeopardy. And what good did that do? He came home with no money, a license still under review, and nightmares that he knows he's letting dig a trench between him and her. He doesn't deserve her.  How could he? Right? 

His mind wanders from one self-deprecating thought to the other until the sun starts to rise and his eyes finally flutter shut. 

He's pressed against a rock wall, the path only barely a foot wide. The wind hisses, and the cold mountain air burns his cheeks. 

“Keep moving!” Tom yells nudging him forward.

“I can't! There's nowhere left to go!” He yells back his heart racing as he looks down at the valley in front of him, and the rocky drop beside him. 

“We need to keep going!” Tom says. 

“Keep going!” Tom insists. 

“I can't!” Frankie pleads.

Tom nudges him again, the mountain shelf crumbling beneath him. 

Pop! 

Blood rushes down Tom's face and he stumbles forward, blank-faced, falling against Frankie. And then they're both falling. Falling. Falling. Falling. It doesn't stop. Just falling into pitch blackness. 

When Frankie's eyes open, his heart is pounding, and he can hear his own breathing. It's light outside now, and he can hear his wife in the kitchen downstairs. This is the third nightmare in the last couple of days. Weeks since he's returned home, and still, nothing is normal. His breathing slows as he lays on his back staring at the ceiling fan, but the shaky feeling lingers in all of his limbs. His fingertips feel like tv static and he can't make it stop. 

Dressed in his usual jeans and t-shirt he's quick to head downstairs throwing on his baseball cap, his truck keys in hand. He does his best to ignore his wife's concerned gaze when he kisses her, 

“Gotta run some errands. Home soon,” is all he says before he's out the door.

Talk to me! She wishes. Don’t lay awake. Don’t walk away. Tell me where you’ve been going. Anything more than one-word answers would be enough. But, the silence is suffocating.

There was a rocky period just before the baby was born when he relapsed. It probably didn't even count as a relapse because he never even ended up using what he had bought before he got caught. But, it's been years since she's seen him this bad. So nervous, so shaky, and uncertain with every move. So afraid to sleep, to share what's been haunting him. She realizes that he hasn't told her everything about what happened on the mission, but she knows it wasn't good. Tom came home in a body bag, and Santiago ended up in Australia. She hadn't seen the Miller brothers since they came home, but she imagines they aren't feeling great either. 

The idea of Frankie using again haunts her. It gnaws away at the back of her mind, and she can feel tears gathering at just the thought of him being in that much pain again. Frankie deserves better. 

The worry, while it feels selfish, lingers too. A worry that she isn’t enough for him. That her support and her love might not be enough to save him this time. She tries to stop it with all of her might, but the fear also creeps in. A fear that one day, one night, he might not come home. She had been half-frozen by that prospect every time he’d been deployed, that one day it would be a folded flag returning home instead of him. But now, her unease manifests in visions of a police officer knocking on her door late at night, the chance of her having to raise their daughter alone. It’s been more than a month since he returned home, and now she begins to wonder how long this can go on before one of them breaks. 

Tears spring to her eyes regularly over the course of the day, and she finds herself sniffling while she makes dinner, rocking the baby in one arm, stirring the pot of pasta sauce with the other. And when Frankie shuffles in, shoulders more relaxed than they had been when he left, dinner has been ready for more than an hour. Isabella bathed and laid down for the night. They eat in silence and go to bed, tracing the crown moulding with their eyes, unable to fall asleep. His hand envelopes hers. They stay silent.

Six months. He’s still unable to believe that Isabella has been in the world for half a year. She’s grown so much right in front of his very eyes, without him noticing. He’s never felt love like he does when he holds her. Being a father isn't something he ever expected for himself. In his younger years, he'd never considered a future. He lived one day to the next. And every day after his first deployment was uncertain. His only goal had been to get the job done and stay alive. His wife had stumbled into his life and had changed things; it put the longevity of life into perspective, tomorrow was suddenly something to look forward to, something to plan for. And the baby. Looking down at his daughter cooing and wiggling in his arms, he knows that he needs to be around. To see her continue to grow. In the five weeks, he'd been on the mission he'd missed so much. He won't let that happen again. 

“I think it's time for bed,” his wife smiles in the doorway to the nursery, loving the happy noises the baby is making at the silly faces Frankie pulls. 

“It's a big day tomorrow,” she continues, crossing the room to stand next to Frankie. Her hand rested on his back, mindlessly rubbing soothing circles. 

“Your Mama wants to ruin our fun,” he whispers to Isabella. As he settles her down. Despite her clapping and giggles moments earlier she's clearly tired, her eyes falling shut almost as soon as he puts her down in the crib. 

“You're a good dad, Frankie”.

“I hope so”.

“You are,” she promises. 

He watches as she moves silently around the room collecting what she’ll need for tomorrow, laying the Christening gown out flat across the top of the dresser. It won’t be a big affair, it’s more of a technicality anyway; for his mom and dad. Devote until their last breaths, Frankie knows it would’ve been important to them. And luckily, his wife agreed, more than happy to sift through boxes of stuff in the attic to find the same Christening gown that Frankie had worn as a baby. He doesn’t know what he believes in anymore. Bits and pieces of a lot of things. He has faith, but it’s been hard not to let it shake. He just hopes and prays he can be half the husband, and father he wants to be. 

“Frankie,” a voice calls in a near whisper, somewhere in front of him. It’s hard to see, a thick layer of fog settling into the valley where he walks forward blindly. He walks towards the voice. “Tom?” Frankie calls spotting him about ten feet away. The man doesn’t answer, his back turned to Frankie. “Frankie,” the voice breathes again. He looks to his left and right, Pope, and the Millers stand next to him, all three entirely silent. He addresses them, but no response, their eyes fixed on where Tom stands. Waiting. Waiting for what? Tom’s hands wave animatedly, he’s speaking to someone. Who? Frankie tries to move forward but he can’t it’s like his legs are frozen, completely unwilling to move from where they’ve stopped. “Tom?” he tries again, his voice straining this time. Pop. Pop. 

Two shots. Tom falls. And there she is. No. No. She can’t be here. His darling wife. Why is she here? “Frankie!” she screams, the cry echoing through the hills, reverberating in his chest. She clutches her chest, blood seeping out from between her fingers. No. No. No. She can’t be. She shouldn’t be here. “Frankie!” she sobs. He wills his legs to move, but they don’t. He tries to yell but no sound comes out. Reaching out with both hands in a desperate attempt to touch her, his own hands suddenly covered in blood, dripping down his forearms. All he can do is watch as she collapses. 

He bolts upright in bed, immediately staring at his hands. It was a nightmare. Thank God it was a nightmare, He thinks. “Nightmare?” her voice startles him. He swallows hard willing the tears to leave his eyes. He nods. In an instant she’s scooting closer to him, leaning over him to turn on the bedside lamp. “What do you need?” she asks genuinely. Eyes wide with worry, he knows there isn’t a single thing she wouldn’t do for him. “I just want to hold you Precosia. Is that okay?” “Yeah baby, that’s okay,” she smiles, burrowing down into her favourite spot against his side. “I love you so much,” he says suddenly. “I love you too, Frankie. So much”. 

As planned, and predicted the Christening service is short and sweet. No big fuss, no big crowd. Santiago flew in from Australia, more than happy to be Isabella’s Godfather. The Millers are there too. A couple other friends and family members lined the first row of the church. They gather in the Morales family backyard for a BBQ. Will fires up the grill and Frankie busies himself with making sure the cooler is full of cold beers for everyone. Isabella enjoys all of the attention she’s getting, passed around from one person’s arms to the next. Giggling when she’s set down on the large picnic blanket for tummy time. Life is good. Frankie thinks. This is everything he’s ever needed, and never knew he’d get. But the gnawing reminder of last night’s nightmare eats at him. The thought of how quickly it could all be taken away. A deep, dark, twisty fear. It has the hair on the back of his neck standing on end, a ringing in his ears; the sound of his own blood pumping. Heart pounding. He crouches next to the blanket, pressing a kiss to his wife’s cheek. “I’m going to go and get more ice,” he says. “I think we have enough,” she laughs pointing at the overflowing cooler and metal bucket he’d filled earlier. He doesn’t respond. He freezes. His out is gone. Her brows furrow, and she takes his hand in hers. Santi seems to notice Frankie’s startled look because without missing a beat he’s plopping down in the grass. “There’s my goddaughter!” he grins, laughing as she attempts to crawl towards him. He nods. A silent agreement to watch the baby.

Frankie follows without thought, as he’s guided through the back door into the kitchen by his hand. “Frankie?” She asks cupping his cheeks in both of her hands, “Talk to me”. “I--I’m afraid,” he chokes out, bowing his head, “there’s so much you don’t know”. She nods, not wanting to press him for more than he’s willing to give. “It was so bad down there-- nothing went to plan. And I keep seeing Tom in my nightmares. He holds me down or he pushes me, he’s always blee--” his words are caught by a sob, “I haven’t used. But I’ve wanted to. I don’t want to fail you”. “You could never fail me,” she assures him, tilting her head so she’s in his line of vision.

“You asked me not to go. I shouldn’t have gone. I left you alone with the baby”.

 “I know you, Frankie. I know that whatever you did needed to be done. And I’m proud of you for getting help instead of using. But, please, don’t hold all of this alone. Let me in,” she pleads. He doesn’t speak, he just cries, gathering her into his arms. She grounds him, and tethers him to reality. “One day at a time,” she whispers, “We’ll take this one day at a time”. “One day at a time,” he confirms. 

#frankie morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal character x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #triple frontier

[inclusivepedrolibrary]

Long time no see!

Sorry for the silence on this blog the last few months! The mods all got busy with life and stuff and this blog kinda fell to the side for a while but we want to get this blog active again!

We will start adding things to the queue soon and also post some inclusive resources and stuff for reference. There's also going to be a slight change to the blog so keep an eye out for that very soon!

Recs are now open as well, just please follow the submission guidelines for sending in any recs! Just to note though, while this blog will reblog and rec any authors/artists, we strive to focus on poc and queer writers/artists since they are more overlooked in the fandom.

Find a fic is also an option here too if there's a fic you lost or anything and want any help finding it!

#poc friendly fanfic #the inclusive pedro library #poc friendly fanfiction #poc friendly fic #race neutral reader insert #pedro pascal character fic #pedro pascal character x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom

[metalboiimunson]

Bittersweet Homecoming

Ghostly Kisses and Love Declarations

#pedro pascal character x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #javier peña x reader #javier peña #x reader fics #my writing: sunny

[javiscigarette]

Teacher's Pet

Joel Miller x virgin f!reader

Summary: 25 years old, anxiety-ridden, and still a virgin, you ask your friend Joel for advice on your upcoming date. But you're more of a...hands-on learner. And he's more than happy to help. 

Warnings: PWP, unbalanced power dynamics, virgin!reader, neighbor/bff/more experienced! Joel, age gap, first kiss, virginity loss, fingering, oral (f receiving), frequent check-ins, soo much banter and Joel is a menace also so soft and sweet :')....(ends on a cliffhanger but there will be a part two I swear).

w/c: 7.7k idk what happened

a/n: I am resurfacing for your monthly reminder that I do in fact still write!! Inspiration for this came out of literally nowhere but I took it and RAN with it and I think I like it?? As always, thank you to my baby love @undrthelights for helping me with this and always listening to my rambling and for being my biggest enabler Ilysm

Part Two

my masterlist

"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever." Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck pound in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed. "A what?" "Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head.  "No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?” 

"Seriously, Joel. Fuck off" you snap but with no bite or heat behind it. You bring the sweating bottle of beer to your lips and finish the rest of the now lukewarm liquid off in one gulp. 

"What? I just find it hard to believe that you've never even had a kiss. Didn't you go to high school? Didn't you ever get invited to a party? Didn't you go to college? College kids do the do like all the time” 

"Clearly not all the time" you mutter, a tad bitterly.

Joel raises his hands defensively and takes a sip of his own beer. "Just seems crazy is all. There's gotta be some chick or dude out there willing to take pity on you and pop your cherry."

You audibly gag at his choice of words. "I don't need a pity fuck, thanks." You stand from the couch and head over to the fridge. The bottles of cold alcohol inside are calling your name and you want something that will help soothe your nerves. You're not a big drinker, but when Joel is prying into your love life like he is now, you wish you were.

"Okay,” he starts from the living room. “Maybe I worded that wrong. What I meant to say was, there's gotta be someone out there who would be more than willing to show you a good time."

You groan and let your forehead fall against the fridge door. "That's the whole point! I came here to get advice for my date, someone who might actually be interested in me, and all you've done is make fun of me for not having fucked anyone yet. So thanks, Joel. You're a real pal."

You push away from the fridge and slam the door shut, a second beer in hand.

"Alright, alright, calm down." He says, hands in the air as if you were holding him at gunpoint as you head back to the couch. "Look, if this guy really likes you then he's not gonna care. Probably won't even be able to tell if you are or aren't."

"You think so?" You ask hopefully.

"Well, I mean, unless you're like... super bad."

Your heart drops into your stomach and you glare at him, "Joel."

"Oh come on, I'm kidding. You're not gonna be bad, okay? Just, go into it with an open mind and just relax. If he tries something you're not comfortable with or makes you feel weird, tell him. And if he gets pussy, dump his ass."

"That simple, huh?" You scoff.

"Well, yeah. You're the one who made it complicated by thinking it was a big deal."

"It is a big deal, Joel! I know nothing!

"Nothing? You ain’t ever watched porn? Jesus, I had no idea you were such a prude."

You can't stop yourself from rolling your eyes and slapping the back of your hand against his arm. He yelps and laughs, rubbing his arm.

"I've watched porn before" you retort. 

"What kind?" he asks with a wiggle of his brows.

"None of your fucking business" you respond, feeling your face heat up.

Joel's lips quirk into a shit-eating grin and you're quick to smack him again.

"Okay okay, sorry!" he says through his laughter. "So what exactly are you afraid of?"

You're not really sure how to answer. It's a combination of so many things, most of which are irrational fears and insecurities. Sure you've seen it all done before, but you're well aware that none of it is realistic. At least, not completely. And just the fact that you're freshly 25 years old without a single notch in your bedpost makes you dizzy with anxiety. It's not like you're saving yourself or anything, it's just that hook up culture has never agreed with you and there's never been an opportunity that made you feel like it was the right one. That is until now, with your cute coworker who you thought was miles out of your league asking you out on a third date. And now, the prospect of being in bed with him is looming over you like a dark cloud and the last thing you want to do is mess it up.

"I guess, I'm just afraid that he's gonna be disappointed, or I'm gonna weird him out, or I'm gonna do something wrong and embarrass myself.” Joel nods along and listens. "And if it is bad then we still have to work with each other and then what if it's awkward and everyone knows about it and then he hates me and--"

"Okay, whoa slow down there, buddy" Joel says, putting a hand on your shoulder. "One, you're overthinking this. You're literally thinking like, five steps ahead of what's actually going on. It's a date. And even if it does end up in the bedroom, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. No one's forcing you, okay? He can't. No one can."

"I know, but I want to," you reply quietly.

"Alright. Then do."

"I don't know howwww!! " you whine, flopping backwards into the couch.

Joel groans and sits up a little straighter, scrubbing a hand down his face. 

"Well, there's no magic trick, I don't have a secret sex manual I'm holding out on ya."

You sigh, shoulders sagging as you look over at him. The idea comes out of nowhere, well, not exactly from nowhere, but it pops in your head so fast that you then have to bite your tongue before the words bubbling up from your throat come tumbling out. 

It's not a bad idea, not necessarily. 

You've been good friends with Joel ever since you moved in next door last year. An unlikely pairing, a 40 year old contractor and an almost 25 year old office worker. But after offering him a six pack as part of introducing yourself to the neighbors, you'd gotten along famously. He fixes things around your house and you send him home with hot dinners and warm, gooey cookies.

 It's an easy friendship, open and honest and supportive, and Joel has never given you reason not to trust him. He's a good guy, if not a little brash, but you know deep down he means well. And it doesn't hurt that he's objectively attractive, with his tall and sturdy frame, strong, calloused hands, dark messy curls....It's not a bad idea.

It's an absolutely insane idea. 

You continue to stare at him, clenching your teeth together to hold back the question sitting on the tip of your tongue.

"What?" he says, looking back at you.

"Nothing" you mutter, eyes flicking away.

"You've got that face you make when you're about to say something really stupid, so just get it out."

You glare at him again, not enjoying the way he can read you so well.

"I wasn't gonna say anything."

"Well now you're lying."

"I'm not."

"You're doing it again!"

"Doing what?!"

"That face!"

"I'm not making a face!"

"Yes you are! Just spit it out!"

You groan and hide your face in your hands. You blame it on the one beer even though you know you’re not anywhere close to being drunk because how else would you justify what you’re about to say? You wait a moment, thinking about the weight of it but your mouth opens before you can stop yourself. 

"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever."

Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck and hear it in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed.

"A what?"

"Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head. 

"No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?” 

His eyes are wide, and he looks incredulous. You can't blame him, because the more time that passes between your suggestion and now, the more ridiculous the idea seems.

"I’m sorry, that was…It was stupid. Pretend I didn't say anything. Let's just watch a movie." You move to grab the remote, but Joel's hand covers yours, stopping you.

"Is that what you want?"

You look at him, searching his expression for any sign of disgust or apprehension. But all you can see is the same Joel you've known for months, patient, warm, and understanding.

"I know. I know it's stupid. But I can't get this date out of my head, Joel. It's all I can think about and the more I do, the more worried I get and I just don't want to fuck it up. And I know we're friends and this is weird and gross, but I just thought that... maybe, I could have some practice, so to speak."

He doesn't say anything. Just keeps looking at you, the panic rising in your chest the longer the silence stretches. You start to fidget, wringing your hands together in your lap.

"I'm sorry, that was way out of line" you say, moving to stand up, your skin sweaty and hot with embarrassment and your feet ready to run out the door and never come back. 

But Joel catches your wrist, gently pulling you back down to sit next to him.

"Joel" you whine, not wanting him to humiliate you any further.

"It's okay, come here."

His voice is softer than before, and his eyes are kind. You let him pull you closer, the two of you sitting knee to knee. You can't bring yourself to look him in the eyes, not with your cheeks and the tips of your ears burning like they are, but Joel doesn't push. He simply moves his hand from your wrist, sliding it into yours. His palms are rough and warm, and the simple touch alone is comforting.

"You really wanna do this?” he asks softly. You can feel his eyes boring into you. “I mean, I'm not exactly a prize winning catch. And it's not like there's a shortage of willing men out there."

You shrug and chew the inside of your lip.

"Yeah, but you're my friend and I...I trust you."

There's another pause, and you wish that you could just disappear into the couch and erase this moment from your memory.

"How drunk are you?" he asks, glancing at the beer bottle on the coffee table.

"You saw me finish one bottle. And half of another. I’m barely tipsy."

"Not drunk?”

"Nope."

"You're gonna remember this tomorrow."

"Uh huh."

"And you still want to?"

You groan for the millionth time and squeeze his hand.

"Yes I want to! Look, if you don't want to then that's fine. It was just a dumb suggestion and we can just forget this ever happened."

He hums, considering your words. His hand slips out of yours, and you think that's it, you've scared him off and washed the friendship down the drain. That you'll have to hide from him from now on, that you'll have to pack your things up and move because the mortification would be too much, and that he'll hate you, and—

His two fingers sliding under chin surprise you, and he tilts your head up. He's looking down at you with that same even expression, eyes big, soft, and warm as he slides his hand over to cup your jaw in his palm. 

"If you want to stop at any point, just say so, okay? I won't be upset and we can go back to the way things were before. Got it?"

You nod, your throat suddenly too tight to speak. His thumb sweeps over your cheekbone, the tender touch is enough to make your heart skip a beat. There’s no way this is actually happening. That your first kiss is going to be with your 40 year old menace of a neighbor. That you’re going to, how did you put it, get a sex lesson from him. His gaze flicks down to your lips and back up to your eyes and you’re positive you’re no longer able to breathe. 

"Can I kiss you?" he asks softly. You nod. 

You're sure he can hear the thumping of your heart in his own ears as he leans down. His other hand comes to rest on your hip and when his lips touch yours, a soft, tentative pressure, you're not prepared for the electricity that shoots through you.

He's barely done anything and already you feel like you're floating. Your own hands reach out to clutch his shirt, keeping him close, afraid he'll pull away and leave you cold and wanting if you don't. But he stays put, pressing himself against you, his lips working gently against yours. You follow his lead, kissing him back while trying not to overthink it.

It's nothing like the kisses in the movies or the books, where fireworks explode behind your eyelids or where your foot pops up in the air. It's far more subdued, more quiet and subtle. But the warmth that pools low in your belly and the goosebumps that erupt on your skin when his tongue slides against the seam of your lips, light and quick, makes you absolutely melt. 

He pulls back before you can really react, and you're left with a dizzying rush of both blistering desire and excruciating anxiety. You want to pull him back in and never let him go. But your heart is beating so fast you can hardly breathe, your nerves are buzzing, and the urge to run and hide is nearly paralyzing. 

"Was it bad?" you ask tentatively, cheeks heated.

"No" he replies, giving your hip a squeeze as a smirk plays on his lips. "It was fucking awful. Worst kiss of my life"

"Shut up!" you hiss, pushing him away with a hand on his chest. He laughs, the sound easing some of the tension in your body. 

"I'm just teasing" he says, voice dropping lower. "C'mere, we can work on it."

His lips find yours again, and you try not to smile into the kiss but it's hard when you can feel the way his lips are quirked up as well. It doesn’t take much else to get you to relax and let yourself fall into the moment, into the gentle press of his mouth and the warm hands on your hip and your cheek. He swipes his tongue against your lips again, his fingers pressing lightly into the hinge of your jaw to tilt your head back and coax your lips apart.

You let him, sighing as his tongue glides across yours, hot and smooth and sweet. Your hands slide up his chest, finding purchase around his shoulders, and when you move forward, pushing yourself against him, he grunts softly but lets you. He kisses you until the both of you are gasping for air, and when he pulls back, his lips are wet and red and you're certain yours must be as well.

"Better?" you ask, a bit breathless.

"Getting there" he answers with, his breath warm where it fans across your cheek. 

"You're such a liar" you say with a goofy smile.

"Yeah, I know. Now try again, practice makes perfect.” 

You roll your eyes but lean back in nonetheless. It's a bit more heated this time, the feeling of his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip making you squirm. His hand rounds over your hip, palm smoothing to the small of your back to pull you closer, the heat of his body radiating through your clothes and warming your skin. Your hands move on their own accord, no thought behind the action as they slide up to his shoulders and then his neck, your fingers finding home in the curls at the base of his skull. When you give them a slight tug, you're rewarded with a muffled grunt from Joel. Emboldened, you pull back, lips swollen and tingling.

"You’re a good kisser,” you pant. "Is that something people usually say?"

"When it’s true" he says, grinning at you. "And since I know you're gonna ask, I'd say that was a C+, maybe a B-."

You scoff but blush furiously at the smile he flashes, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

"Well then, tell me what to do next. What do I need to know?"

Joel hums as he thinks for a moment. 

"What do you want to do?"

You stare at him for a second, blinking.

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you" you say, shaking your head a bit.

"Well, how far do you want to take this?"

You swallow hard, suddenly feeling very shy. You can’t deny that when the idea popped in your head it was accompanied by the mental image of you naked, spread out on his bed, but the actual act of asking him, or better yet, actually doing it is... intimidating to say the least. Are you really about to let him go all the way, to see you bare and vulnerable, let him pop your cherry as he would disgustingly put it? All just to “prepare” for a date with a guy who might not even like you that way?

Yeah, probably.

"All the way" you answer. “I want to go all the way” 

He doesn’t pounce on you like you expected, doesn’t press his lips against yours in a frenzied kiss that you had half hoped for. Instead, he simply looks at you, his brown eyes boring into yours, searching.

"Are you sure? You can always say no and you're not gonna lose me as a friend if this isn’t what you actually want. I don’t want you thinking that."

You can't help the laugh that bubbles up and slips out, because of course Joel, your kind, thoughtful Joel, would say that. He's a good man. A great one, even.

"Yes, I'm sure. But if you don't, I get it, I can just leave and-"

Joel laughs, the sound traveling up from deep in his chest, the rumble vibrating against you.

"Sweetheart, I wouldn't be doin’ this if I didn't want to. Just makin’ sure this is what you really want."

"I want it.” 

He squeezes your hip and swipes a thumb over your cheekbone once again. 

“Alright then.” He nods, firm and resolute, and then looks around the room. “ We’re not doing it here, though. If you're getting the full Joel Miller experience, we're gonna do it right.” 

Your eyes roll reflexively, but your heart picks up its pace regardless.

"I’m not gonna do anything if you call it that ever again."

"Fine, fine,” he relents. “Let me show you what a good, thorough fucking feels like. Better?"

Your jaw drops, and he's laughing at you, his body shaking with amusement.

"Fuck you" you grumble, shoving him away while trying to hide your coy smile. 

"Yeah, that's what I'm hoping for," he says with a wide, self-assured grin.

"I'm leaving" you declare with a false sense of offense as you rise to your feet. Joel is quick to do the same and before you can take a single step away, he slips a finger through the belt loop of your jeans and tugs you back into him, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"I’ll stop, I’ll stop. I'm sorry" he says, not sounding it one bit.

You huff, but let him pull you closer until you’re pressed against his chest and you have to tilt your head back to look at him.

"I’ll be good. I promise."

"Liar"

"Well, yeah. But I can promise that I'll make you feel good."

You can't help the giggle that spills out and he kisses it away, his lips warm and plush and sweet against yours. The hand not resting on your lower back comes up, curling around the nape of your neck and keeping you close. You sink into him, and the fog creeps in again, dulling the rest of the world, making it seem fuzzy and distant, like the memory of a dream. All you can focus on is him, the warm solid weight of him against you, the strong arms holding you, the way his mouth moves against yours. And then he’s pulling back all too soon and you have to stifle a whine.

"Come on" he says, tugging at your hand.

His bedroom is dim, the little lamp on his nightstand and the faint glow of the moon through the curtains providing the only light. You swallow and take a deep breath as you step inside, your bare toes digging into the plush carpet, his hand warm and large where it grips yours.

He holds onto you as he sits on the edge of the bed. You step forward, letting him pull you between his knees. His hands settle on your hips, and you can feel their heat through the fabric of your shirt.

He doesn’t ask if you're sure again and you’re grateful because you’re not sure if you could form any kind of response right now. Instead, he slides his hands up and under your shirt, fingers dancing across your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps. Your breath hitches as his hands smooth over your ribs and around to your back, the tips of his fingers mapping out the curve of your spine, skimming over each notch and bump. They climb higher, the fabric of your shirt bunching around his wrists. 

“Can I take this off, baby?”

Your heart jumps to your throat but you nod anyway. He grabs the hem and tugs your shirt up and and you lift your arms so he can slip it off over your head. He tosses it aside, the fabric falling to the floor beside the bed. You’re left exposed, vulnerable and bare, save for the worn out bra you wear, a few too many washes and a few years past its prime.

Your hands itch where they hang by your side with the instinct to cover yourself, hide the imperfections that you know so well, the stretch marks, the softness of your stomach, the way the cups of your bra are just a bit too small and spill over the tops.

But then he’s pressing his lips to the space just above your navel, his scruff tickling your skin and making the muscles in your abdomen jump and twitch. His hands find your waist again, and when his lips continue their path upwards, his palms follow, skimming up your sides, thumbs tracing the outline of your ribs before stopping at the band of your bra.

"This too?" he asks, voice quiet and husky.

"Yeah" you answer with a squeak, and he grins like a kid in a candy store.

His fingers undo the clasp deftness that makes your knees go weak, the straps slipping from your shoulders and the whole thing sliding down your arms, landing somewhere near your shirt. 

"God, baby, look at you" he murmurs, his hands cupping the underside of your breasts, his thumbs sweeping over the tops and then down the slope and around your nipple. Your breath hitches, the gentle touch sending a shiver up your spine. "You're fucking perfect."

The praise is unexpected and it sends a jolt of heat through your core. You whimper quietly and his hands are on you again, the calloused palms rough on the soft skin of your breasts. He kneads the flesh, squeezing gently before rolling your nipples between his fingers, pulling and pinching and teasing. 

He pulls you closer and ducks his head, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He looks up at you through his lashes, eyes dark and hooded, and his pupils blown wide with desire.

"Can I?" he asks.

"Please."

He leans in and wraps his lips around a peaked nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, the gentle heat of his mouth on your skin making your knees weak.

His mouth works on one breast, tongue flicking and teasing while his free hand continues its work on the other. Pleasure builds and coils deep inside, the sensation unfamiliar but certainly not unwelcome. You whimper and he pulls away, releasing your nipple with a wet pop before giving it a sweet parting kiss.

He turns his attention to the other, his teeth grazing over the stiff peak and drawing a whine from your lips. He sighs when your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling at the strands until he groans softly against you. He sucks your other nipple into his mouth, the flat of his tongue pressing against it and dragging up and around, swirling and flicking. You’re already breathless, panting, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on your forehead.

"Feels good, Joel," you whisper shyly. 

"I know, honey" he says, a soft smile pulling at his lips when he pulls away. "Feel good anywhere else?"

He doesn't wait for a response, simply slips a hand between your thighs, cupping you through the denim, the simple action making you squeak.

"Here, huh?" he says, the heel of his palm pressing against you.

You gasp softly and nod, biting your lip, too shy to say anything.

"Get on the bed, baby."

You comply, crawling onto the mattress and scooting backwards towards the pillows, sitting at the head of the bed as you watch him. His eyes never leave you as he pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor. Your heart thumps as you stare at his bare chest, his tanned skin dotted with a light dusting of salt and pepper hair. He's broad, his shoulders thick and chest solid. Your fingers burn with the urge to reach out and touch him, so you do, extending a tentative, slightly shaky hand.

He watches you closely, eyes flitting down to the palm pressed against his chest before meeting yours again, his mouth curling into a smile.

"You can touch" he says, reaching down to curl a hand around your wrist and bringing it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the center of your palm before guiding your hand back down to his chest. "I think most people would enjoy that."

"You're having entirely too much fun with this,” you mumble while your fingers spread out across his pec.  

"It is fun" he counters, his own hand sliding up the inside of your thigh, thumb pressing against the seam of your jeans and rubbing up and down. "But it'll be more fun once these come off"

Your lips part, a puff of air rushing out.

"You gonna take them off?" you ask, the words slipping out, bold and unbidden.

He grins, his brow quirking up.

"Look at you, being all bossy"

"You like it" you say, finally feeling some of the anxiety slipping away, the familiar and comfortable banter between the two of you slipping into place in a new, unfamiliar situation.

His smile takes up nearly his whole face as moves closer. 

“I sure do.” 

He looms over you, bracing himself on an elbow next to your head before ducking down to kiss you, his tongue easily slipping into your mouth, warm and insistent. You sigh into it, your hands finding the warm, bare skin of his back, muscles gliding beneath your palms as you slide them up and around, fingertips digging into his shoulders. He's so warm and solid and you can't help the little noise that slips out, a soft, needy moan. You're about to break the kiss and beg him to touch you, give you something, anything, but he pulls back before you can. 

"Impatient. I like that too" he says, voice barely above a whisper.

He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then down your neck, his beard scraping against your skin. He continues his path, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses across your collarbones and down the valley between your breasts, his beard tickling your sternum.

His palm presses into the top of your thigh, and you instinctively open your legs for him, his hand immediately moving to cup you through the denim, thick fingers pressing against the seam and the bundle of nerves just below. Your hips rock up, seeking more pressure and he grins, entirely too pleased with himself right now.

You huff, and he laughs, the sound rumbling in his chest, but he relents, undoing the button and zipper of your jeans and tugging the fabric down, revealing the pair of pink panties underneath. 

Joel sits up, pulling your jeans down your legs and letting them drop off the side of the bed, the sound of the denim hitting the floor indicating that you've officially crossed a line that neither of you can come back from. But if the hungry, desperate look on his face and the way you're practically vibrating underneath him are any indication, neither of you want to.

"I'll start with just my fingers, yeah?" he says, his hands running up the insides of your thighs, touch light and teasing, the tips of his fingers brushing the edge of your panties. You nod dumbly, at a complete loss for words right now.

He ducks his head, his lips landing on the smooth skin stretched over your hip bone. You squirm, ticklish, and he grins. His mouth is a great distraction from his hand, which has found its way back in between your legs, his fingers now pressing against damp fabric.

"Shit" he curses, his touch firm. "Fuckin' soaked already. Am I just that good?" he quips with a smirk.

"Jesus do you ever shut up" you gripe, but the effect is ruined by the whimper that escapes you when his thumb sweeps up, pressing hard against your clit. 

"Oh, that's a pretty sound" he murmurs, repeating the motion to pull out another one, your hips bucking against his hand.

"Now," he starts, his tone shifting to the same one he uses when he's about to impart some life lesson. "This guy you're gonna see, or any man for that matter, should always take care of you before himself. That's just common fuckin' sense. And if he doesn't, you send him on his way" he continues. "Because a man that don't wanna see a woman get off is no fuckin' man at all"

You're about to interrupt, tell him he's an idiot and ask him to please, please, get on with it, but his fingers sliding under the elastic of your panties, swiftly pulling them down your legs steals the breath from your lungs. Your pulse sky rockets and you shift underneath him, crossing your thighs in instinctual effort to hide yourself from him. 

"M'sorry I didn't shave or anything" you blurt out, your throat tight with anxiety and embarrassment once again 

Joel just shakes his head as he pries your legs apart.

"Baby, I could not give less of a shit about that."

"But-"

"No" he says, the word firm, an edge of command to his tone. "You’re not apologizin’ for that. And if a man gives a shit, he's a fuckin' child who doesn't deserve the honor of bein' between these thighs" he says, pushing your knees further apart.

You nod and bite your lip, the words that are just so very Joel, settling in your chest and easing the tension in your body. You let out a long, slow breath and relax, trying to ease the nervousness.

"There ya go" he says, his fingers dancing along your slit, gathering the slick pooling there. You shudder at the gentle touch, your hips rolling up just a bit before you force them back down into the mattress, trying to keep yourself still.

"Nuh-uh. None of that" he says, immediately noticing the movement. He slides his free hand under you, his palm pushing into the small of your back and encouraging you to move again, to lean into your pleasure. "You take what you want, baby. Show me how good it feels. That's all I wanna see."

You squirm and whimper, the simple, almost lazy touch driving you insane. You've touched yourself before, brought yourself over the edge while imagining what it would be like to have the things you read about and watch in videos happen to you. But you've never managed to make yourself feel this good, never felt pleasure so intense, never felt a burning pressure in your abdomen so demanding that it radiates all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes.

And he's barely touched you.

"How's that feel?"

You can't even form the words, so you just nod and hum, the sound a mix of a whimper and a moan, your hips rolling up against his palm. He chuckles, and then the pressure increases, the friction building, his fingers slipping down, collecting more of your wetness to ease the drag against your skin.

He moves his fingers down, down, down, the tip of one circling your entrance, gathering the wetness pooling there. You whine loudly, any shame and modesty you once had replaced entirely with desperate need and pure desire.

"Please, Joel" you whisper, voice shaky.

"I gotcha" he says, dipping his fingertip in, just barely, and pulling a moan from deep in your chest. "Gonna give you what you need"

You groan, a long, low sound as he slowly sinks his finger into you. It's nothing like your own, so perfectly thick and long/ And you found the spot before, the spot that he curls his finger up into, but never at this angle, never with the perfect amount of pressure that he's applying right now. 

"Mmm, look at that" he coos as you clench tightly around his finger.

"Joel, god, feels so good" you whimper pathetically. 

"I know, honey, I know."

You clench again, the cockiness and self-assured attitude that usually gets under your skin now ignites your whole body in an entirely different way. He keeps his eyes on your face, watching as your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth drops open, your head tipping back as the pleasure builds.

"Another" you beg, the fullness not nearly enough.

"Greedy girl" he chides, but he pulls his finger out, and slides two back in. You swear that you could come from this alone, but he doesn't let you, the hand that was supporting your lower back disappearing, only to reappear between your thighs, his thumb circling your clit with firm, steady strokes.

White hot pleasure wraps around the base of your spine, the dual sensations of his fingers and his thumb sending you spiraling. The sounds falling from your lips are unrecognizable, high and desperate as your mind goes blissfully blank, your entire focus on the heat coiling in your abdomen. Your eyebrows pinch together and you bury your face in the pillow next to your head, trying to hide the ridiculous expression you're surely making, but you inhale the traces of his shampoo and cologne that cling to the fabric, the scent pushing you even closer to the edge. 

You try to hold back. Surely you're not supposed to come this quickly, not just from two fingers and a thumb. Surely that's a sign that you're an easy lay, or too inexperienced, or-

"Just let it happen, baby. I can feel it, Just let go" Joel says, his voice cutting through the thoughts racing through your mind, his fingers crooking inside you and dragging across the spot that makes your hips stutter and a cry fall from your lips.

You can't hold back any longer, the pleasure cresting and crashing down around you. You squeeze his fingers, your back arching, the heels of your feet digging into the mattress as you roll your hips up into his touch, seeking more and more and more. And he gives and gives and gives, working you through it and drawing it out for as long as he can before you melt into the mattress, bones and muscles liquid and warm and satisfied.

He pulls his fingers out, and the sudden emptiness draws a disappointed whine from you, his answering chuckle making you smile.

"That was- fuck" you sigh, not quite capable of coherent thought.

"Absolutely mind-blowing? Yeah I know" he teases. You roll your eyes but don't say anything because it's true, and his cocky grin fades into a soft smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches you return to Earth. 

"Can I- can I return the favor?" you ask, your gaze flicking down to the noticeable bulge in his jeans.

He grunts and shakes his head.

"Not yet. Got somethin' else in mind."

You frown and push yourself up onto your elbows, watching as he shifts from his position. You're about to ask what he's going to do until he's settling himself on his stomach between your thighs. You suck in a sharp breath as you realize exactly what he's got planned and your heart jumps, anxiety clouding your mind once again. 

He rests his cheek on your thigh, his eyes meeting yours.

"Alright?"

You swallow and nod, licking your lips.

"Yeah. Just... no one's ever-"

"Yeah, I got that much, that's why we're here" he says, smiling smugly when you glare at him. 

"But what if it's not good? Or I don't taste good? Or-"

"Stop" he says, the single word halting your runaway train of thought. "You need lessons in relaxing, not sex. You're so fucking tense all the time"

"Sorry" you say, immediately cringing.

He sighs, his breath ghosting over the skin of your inner thigh, making you shiver. "What did I say about apologizin'?" he says, his tone slightly sharp.

"I know. Sorry- shit, sorry! Fuck!"

He barks out a laugh and you huff, bringing up both hands to scrub over your face.

"See what I mean?"

"Yes, yes, you're very smart and know everything"

He hums and nips at your thigh.

"Damn right I do."

You want to snark back, but his mouth is moving, his lips trailing down the inside of your thigh and towards where you're aching for him, slick and wet and throbbing. He takes his time, laying kisses on your thighs, hips, and stomach, his scruff scraping the sensitive skin, huffing out a laugh when you start to squirm, your patience wearing thin.

His hands smooth over the soft flesh of your inner thighs, urging you to spread them wider before spreading you open with his thumbs, exposing you completely. You feel exposed, vulnerable, and the urge to close your legs and hide yourself from his gaze is overwhelming, the embarrassment making your skin burn. But before you can even think about closing them, his tongue is on you, sliding up the length of you and circling your clit. The moan that escapes you is embarrassingly loud and high pitched, but the mortification is easily swallowed up by the pleasure.

He hums against you, the sound and the feeling sending a shudder through your body. Your hands grip the pillow behind your head and you try not to buck up into his mouth, but your attempts are futile. He doesn't seem to mind though, in fact you think it spurs him on, his tongue flattening against you and lapping at you messily, the wetness he's coaxed from you smearing across his mouth and chin.

The sound is lewd and obscene, the sloppy, slick noises and the soft grunts and groans that rumble in his chest as he works you up. He pulls back, his breath coming out in pants, his chest heaving as he looks up at you, his eyes dark and hooded.

"Don't know what you were worried about" he says, his voice low and raspy. "You taste fuckin' divine"

His beard is shiny and damp, his lips glistening, hair messy from where your fingers were tangled in it. The sight of him looking so completely disheveled and filthy has you clenching around nothing, the ache almost too much to bear.

He doesn't say anything else, just ducks his head and gets back to work, his mouth moving with a renewed urgency, his hands gripping your thighs and pushing them further apart, allowing him better access.

Your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open, a constant stream of moans and whines and babbling pleas and praises falling from your lips, but you're not really sure what you're saying, not really sure of anything except the intoxicating pleasure coursing through your veins.

You hear him moan, can feel the vibration against your skin, and you glance down at him, and that's a mistake. The sight of him, his eyes closed and brows drawn together in concentration, his cheeks hollowed out as he sucks and nips and laps at you and– is he fucking grinding his hips into the mattress?

You're fucked.

A throaty moan tumbles past your lips as your hips start to rock, a rhythm forming as you chase your orgasm. His hands leave your thighs and he slides one arm up, the weight of it resting against your abdomen to keep you still while his other hand snakes down, fingers dipping inside again, finding the spot that makes you see stars.

"Fuck, Joel, please, oh my god, I'm so- please"

He groans in response, the hand on your stomach pressing down harder to meet the two fingers curling and stroking inside of you. You cry out at the increased pressure right as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around the bud, his fingers moving faster and faster. Flames lick up your spine and spread throughout your body, threatening to burn you alive. 

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, knocking the wind out of you and turning your limbs to jello. Wave after wave of blinding euphoria crashes over you and all you can do is cling to the pillow and arch your back, your toes curling as he continues to work his fingers and tongue, happily letting you ride his face and grind into his mouth.

He doesn't let up, not until you're a whimpering, trembling mess, physically pushing his head away when it becomes too much. He pulls back reluctantly, a wicked grin plastered to his face, his chin and mouth absolutely soaked. You're panting, struggling to catch your breath as the aftershocks make you shiver despite the content warmth spreading throughout your entire body.You feel sated and sleepy, a bone deep satisfaction making you feel boneless. 

But as you come down from your high, rational thoughts start to filter in and you suddenly remember the reason this all started in the first place.

You're here to learn, he should be teaching you how to please a man.

How to please him. 

You watch as he gets off the bed and wipes his chin with the back of his hand. Your eyes shamelessly rake over him, the dusty pink flush that decorates his neck and chest, the curve of his belly down to the impressive bulge in his jeans. 

You push yourself up, ignoring the way your arms tremble with the effort. He looks at you, his eyes scanning your face no doubt looking for signs of distress.

"You ok?" he asks, eyebrows pinched together in his typical concerned Joel fashion.

"Yeah" you say, a little breathlessly. "But I still want to..."

Your voice trails off and you glance down at his crotch, hoping he gets the message.

"That's alright, baby. It's a lot, we don't-"

"No" you interrupt, a hint of desperation in your voice. "You said you would teach me. Please, Joel. I-I wanna learn" You hope it's a good enough cover to the fact that you really just want him, your original goal forgotten. "I just don't want to embarrass myself" you add, pouting slightly for good measure, praying to god that he can’t detect the underlying want for him and him only.

He watches you for a moment, seemingly contemplating his decision. And then his eyes narrow, because of course he knows. There's never been an instance where you succeeded in lying to this man. He always, always knows when something is off.

"Alright" he says, a slow smile spreading across his face, something mischievous sparkling in his eyes. "Dick sucking class is now in session"

You groan, your face twisting with visible disgust.

"Oh my god, that was terrible."

"What? It's true" he says with a shrug.

"That is- no, no way. Never say those words ever again. Ever." you say, pointing a finger at him accusingly.

"Or what?" he challenges, taking a step towards the bed.

You gulp and lick your lips.

"Or..."

He waits expectantly for a response. You have none, so you just shake your head and look away.

"Yeah, that's what I thought"

You glare at him and then sigh.

"You're a bully"

"Am I?” He asks, taking a step back to give you more room. “ 'Cause you're the one that asked me to teach ya. On your knees, kid. Let's see whatcha got."

You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress a grin. You don't know how he does it, but his ability to make a joke or a quip out of anything always has a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, even when the jokes are awful and the puns are terrible. Even when the joke is about you getting ready to suck his dick. 

"You're a bully and a pervert" you say, sliding off the bed and sliding to your knees, the plush carpet doing a decent job at protecting your joints.

"And proud of it.”

"Pride is a sin."

"So is premarital sex, so I'll see you in hell, honey"

You snort and look up at him from your place on the floor, grinning widely.

"You're ridiculous"

"You love it"

And that's the thing, isn't it?

Because you do. You love his innate ability to make you laugh, to make you smile even when he's about to take your fucking virginity. He knows how to comfort you, how to put you at ease, when to push you with his teasing and when to pull back and let you take control. You've never met a person who has so effortlessly made their way into your heart.

And here you are, on your knees for him under the false pretense of practicing for a man who's name you can't even remember right now.

You shake your head, the motion clearing the thoughts and the emotions that were swirling in your head, the ones that make you want to stand up and kiss him, kiss him until your lips are numb and you're left gasping for air.

"Joel?" you say his name softly.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Teach me."

Part 2 is already in the works I promise hehehe thank you for reading I hope u all enjoy!!

#joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou fic #joel miller #pedro pascal characters

[notjustjavierpena]

Swelter

A/N: This happened because the SAG Awards made me horny. I have no other explanation for my behavior, no other defence. Maybe that I was listening to ur dad by VIAL. Obviously also a huge thanks to @strang3lov3 for being the cutest love bug I know, and for putting up with my brainstorming sessions.

Summary: You have a crush on Sarah’s father. It is summer, it is hot, and you just want a cold drink.

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, best friend’s dad, significant age gap (reader is 19-22, Joel is in his mid-40s), SEXUAL TENSION, bee stings, groping, voyeur to some degree, f masturbation, dirty talk, an endless amount of pet names, sexy play with a soda can, praise kink, car sex, daddy kink, fingering, unprotected piv sex, joel’s cock is huge in this, creampie, premature ejaculation, pussy eating, come eating, squirting

Word count: 6.8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54233479

Swelter

A warm Texas breeze blows through the open window of Sarah’s childhood room, making the see-through pink curtains move elegantly from side to side. It hits your back right underneath your halter neck as you lay on Sarah’s bed, caressing your bare skin and making you think of him. You wonder if his hands would have the same effect on you because you find yourself shivering but not from feeling cold. He is somewhere here, and his daughter doesn’t even know that her best friend obsesses about that fact.

Sarah hasn’t changed her room since she was a teenager. She told you this the first time she brought you here, which is almost a year ago today. You were here last summer too, thrilled to be invited to spend a few weeks of your summer with a friend from college and you and her have been inseparable ever since, even if you are so different from each other.

You have your face in a woman’s magazine, propped up on your elbows so you can suck on a popsicle stick whilst turning the pages. There’s a page with the recipe for ‘The Best Fudgy Chocolate Cake Ever!’ next to a page on how to lose weight, and it makes you snort.

“What?” Sarah turns on her chair, pausing the video on her computer.

“What kinda woman are you? You can choose one, but only one. Don’t get greedy now!” You make a scratchy voice but then pop your ice pop in your mouth to hold up the magazine for her to see.

“Seriously? We can’t win,” she groans dramatically, “Chocolate cake always. I just want to be happy, and that looks like a serotonin boost.”

Suddenly, the door opens without any warning. It’s him. Mr. Miller. You quickly remove the popsicle from your mouth, not about to show him how your lips are stretched around the sugary snack. The open door causes a draft to blow the smell of his cologne your way, and it is intoxicating beyond your imagination because you relish in it in secret.

“Dad,” Sarah says with exasperation, “I thought being an adult earned you the privilege of more privacy.”

“It’s gettin’ colder outside now,” he states and ignores her comment, hand resting on the doorknob, “The Adlers need Mercy to be walked, and the pavement’s coolin’ down.”

“I walked him when I was fourteen,” she furrows her brow and you suppress a snicker, “I’m twenty.”

“Just ‘cause you’re grown, don’t mean you can’t do right by ‘em,” he states matter-of-factly.

“Hi, Mr. Miller,” you say from your spot on the bed as Sarah fumes quietly, absentmindedly reaching to pull the short skirt of your dress down. He can probably see the start of your ass from how it has been riding up as you lay down on the sheets.

“Hiya darlin’,” he replies and you swear you can hear a restrained sound in his voice. He turns to Sarah again, “Get your butt off that chair.”

“Fine,” she follows through on her orders but still wants to argue, probably embarrassed at being ordered around by her father in front of her friend. She gestures to you, “And what about my guest?”

“She’s grown too, which means she can probably entertain herself the half hour you’ll be gone,” he dares wink at you, and blood courses through your veins.

“I’ll just get that assignment done while you’re out,” you reassure and try not to seem like your core is shaking.

“See?” Joel looks triumphant.

“You’d make a hell of a lawyer,” she deadpans at her father and walks past him.

When he closes the door and leaves you alone in the bedroom, you can feel your popsicle having melted, its syrupy water running down your fingers. You switch hands and suck the sticky fingers into your mouth. The action makes Mr. Miller’s image flash in your mind and you press your thighs together before getting up and finding your laptop.

You find that it’s near impossible to concentrate on proofreading your assignment in the tiny bedroom after just five minutes of being alone. It’s not that you can’t concentrate in the Summer heat but no matter what you do, your mind keeps circling back to Joel’s voice as he called you darling. It heats you more than the sun ever could, and with every tap on your keyboard, your mouth gets more and more dry.

Eventually, you push yourself to stand from your seat at the desk and make a decision to go fetch something to drink, and it is definitely not with the intention of accidentally bumping into Sarah’s father. Not even when you do not find Joel in the kitchen and decide to bypass it altogether to continue into the garage in hopes of being successful in your search for a drink (obviously).

This infatuation started last year. It took you about ten seconds - from walking into the kitchen and shaking Joel’s hand - to realize that Sarah was cursed with having him as a father. Firstly, he was outrageously handsome; always wearing washed-out t-shirts that clung to his shoulders, always smiling with teeth, sporting salt-and-pepper curls, and sometimes even shocking you by entering the kitchen with working gloves on. However, when he opened his mouth and spoke, a southern drawl dripped from his lips and made your whole body tense up. He was charming, respectful, and laughed at the right moments. Most importantly, he laughed at every damn attempt that you made at being funny, and while it was probably an attempt to be nice and make you feel at home, it spurred you on terribly to win him over at every opportunity.

Despite all that, those opportunities weren’t many. He was also cool enough to know that his daughter didn’t want him hanging around all the time, and so he spent many days either in the garden to mow the lawn in competition with the rest of the fathers down the street, in the garage to fix up some old truck, or with his brother, Tommy, and Tommy’s wife who always had some DIY-project going on.

Thus, the summer became one of tanning sessions in the garden, movies in Sarah’s room, stolen glances at Joel Miller whenever he came inside to quench his thirst after hard labor, and secret longing whenever he had kept away for too long.

One particular day last year, Sarah had failed to mention that her father would be home most of the last days you were in their house, and because he was always out, you were getting more and more comfortable with walking around in your towels post-showers or leaving the door unlocked when changing.

The particular event had happened in the morning when the house had been silent except for the kitchen where Sarah was preparing breakfast, using a large box of pancake mix and the whole fruit section of the local grocery store for topping. You had just showered, standing with your head in your suitcase to search for the last few pieces of clothing you had that were clean when there was a rap on the door and a pull of the handle not even a second later.

“Sarah, I need—“

You whipped around at the sound of a new voice entering the room. Your heart nearly burst out of your chest, feeling as though it was fighting its way out between your ribs as embarrassment began to flood your system. Even so, you stood too frozen to reach for something to cover yourself up.

Joel was in the doorway and dead silent, looking as if struck by lightning. Like earlier today, his hand had been resting on the doorknob and in the painfully short moment that the both of you were processing the situation, you saw that his grip tightened enough to whiten his knuckles.

And then it happened, the thing that had soaked you in forbidden desire and delicious excitement; his gaze had flickered down your body and taken you in for the briefest of seconds. His gaze had traveled from the hard peaks of your nipples to the shape of your hips and the softness of your young cunt.

“Fuck,” you heard him utter as he remembered himself and his self-awareness made you finally grab the top you were going to be wearing that day to cover up your quivering body. He slammed the door shut and spoke through it, “Christ, ’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay, Mr. Miller,” you promised but he was already gone. You immediately locked the door afterward to come so hard with two fingers on your clit that you had to hold onto the chair by the desk.

God, you want him to look at you like that again, want to tell him it is all for him. Now, as wrong as you know it is, you find yourself searching for an excuse to get him to ogle you and the chances are higher if he actually spends time with you.

“Hi, Mr. Miller,” you announce yourself as you enter the garage through the door in the kitchen. Joel has his head inside the hood of his truck, leaning over to inspect something that you wouldn’t understand anything about anyway. He grips the front side of the engine room to push himself to stand, closes the top of the hood of his truck, and turns around to face you.

“Hey kiddo,” he returns with a smile, “How many times do I gotta say to ya that it’s just Joel?”

“Alright, Mr. Miller,” you tease, “—I mean, Just Joel.”

You hear him laugh softly but you don’t dare look at him, afraid that you’ll spontaneously combust. He goes to the utility sink to wash his hands, saying nothing more and making you feel insane for coming apart in the silence.

“I’m just getting something to drink,” you explain when it becomes too much, “Sarah’s room is boiling hot.”

“That’s fine, take what you’d like,” he replies, and there’s a kind teasing in his voice. “But don’t touch the orange sodas. Those are mine.”

The concrete floor of the garage is cold on your bare feet as you pad across the floor where an old bottom-freezer refrigerator stands in the corner, humming in the otherwise quiet room. It has seen better days, and it seems like Sarah has tried to cheer up its weathered appearance by covering it in stickers and ugly magnets.

“Now I have to get one of those,” you giggle and pull the door open, scanning the contents and noticing that the sodas are on the bottom shelf. You hesitate for just a second, and then you choose to bend over instead of crouching down. Behind you, Joel Miller is completely silent.

In the beginning, it hadn’t been your intention to let the crush fester in your brain and turn it into something more but last week, during dinner out on the terrace, you had accidentally sat down on a bee and gotten stung on the back of your thigh. The cry you had let out had nearly made Joel tip over the table to get to you, his chair falling backward as he got up from his seat.

“Fuck! Ow ow ow!” You cried and hobbled around on the grass. The pain was unbearable but the shock only seemed to make it worse.

“Sarah, please get some ice and some antihistamines. There should be a bottle on my nightstand,” Joel ordered quickly and she rushed inside. He walked toward you, grabbing at your shoulders to ground you but his touch only heightened all other sensations. He dug his thumbs into you and your head swam, “Sweetheart, ‘tis just a bee, shh, calm down. I need to remove the stinger. Lemme see ya.”

“It really fucking hurts, Mr. Miller,” you said with a whine as he guided you to one of the loungers that Sarah and you had dragged out from the shed earlier that week.

“I know,” he finally let go of you so you could think just a bit more clearly, “Lemme take a look. Lie down on your front.”

You followed orders with the realization of how much you trusted his judgment, that he would treat you right, moving carefully because the flex of your thigh muscle was making the pain worse. The wooden lounger burned slightly against the front of your thighs, and you pressed your cheek into its slats while screwing your eyes shut.

The wood creaked behind you as he knelt on it with one knee and suddenly, his broad hand was perched on the top of your thigh in an attempt to keep your skin taut. You sucked in a breath but he only mistook it for more pain.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I can see it,” his breath was slightly quicker but you didn’t want to jump to conclusions, “He really got ya right on your inner thigh. Hold on.”

Your eyes shot open when his thumb ran towards the innermost part of the back of your thigh, a sort of panicked arousal spiking from your chest and thighs. He paused for a second then murmured something, a swear word that you tried to take as frustration. There was a beat but then he cleared his throat, “Can you bend your leg a little? I wanna make sure that I get it on the first try.”

“How?” You asked stupidly. The image of how he would be looming over your backside made your heartbeat go down between your legs, “My dress’ll ride up.”

“Just bend the knee a little, pull it towards your chest,” he explained and cleared his throat once more, “On my life, I won’t look.”

So you did as he told you, and sure enough, your dress betrayed you by crawling slowly up to sit around your hip instead of the middle part of your thigh. You looked back at him when he started picking at the stinger with his nails, and you hoped that he would not notice your gawking at his concentrated expression.

A flash of the day he had barged in on you naked flashed in your mind because his eyes were so focused on not staring at you that you nearly whimpered when you saw his eyes flicker to the spot of dampness between your legs for no more than a second.

You had worn white cotton panties that day so they would not be seen through your dress. They were straining against your pussy in this position and all he had to do was reach out, and he’d find your clit poking against the fabric from how excited you were feeling.

He had had the perfect outline of your cunt, and it’s the same now as you bend over to get to the very bottom of the fridge, reaching for a cold drink that just happens to be his favorite. You know that he can see everything, and the worst is that you know he already has. Twice. The mere thought is so dirty that your heart starts pounding in your chest and sends heat through your already hot body, so you hurry to stretch to your full height again.

With a cocky grin that is mostly put on to hide your anxious excitement about what you have just done, you turn to face Joel and walk to stand in front of him and his car. His cologne fills your nostrils again, and the scent seems once again to have a direct line to your cunt because you have never felt more empty. In front of you, Joel’s jaw is clenched but other than that, he seems a lot more calm and composed than you.

That is until you jump onto the hood of the car and scoot back, letting your bare feet dangle out over the edge. You crack open the soda in your hand and take a sip that is a little longer than intended. The satisfying burn of the fizz grounds you in the warm climate, but it is even more heavenly as you tuck the skirt of your dress between your thighs so you can place the cold can there.

Joel shakes his head with a sigh but you know he is playing a game as much as you because he cannot help but crack a smile back at you, “You’re trouble, I knew it the second Sarah brought ya into my house.”

“Oh, whatever will I do?” You ask dramatically and lean back against the windshield.

“Go morally bankrupt?” He raises a brow. If only he knew what is going through your mind. You catch him looking at you in the fashion that you have craved when you sigh deeply and cause your chest to push out.

“Only that?” You take another sip and some of the contents spill down your chin in a thick, sticky trail due to the angle you’re sitting in. You reach up to wipe it away with your index finger and then dare to suck your finger clean with the intention of mimicking the way that you had licked it clean earlier when it had been coated in melted popsicle.

“Give it here,” he says. You lock eyes with him. However, your eyes widen slightly when he nods at the can and takes it from between your thighs. There’s electricity shooting through your nerves the second his fingers touch the fabric of your dress but they intensify to a dizzying degree when he takes a sip of the soda too.

Like a reflex, the sight of him drinking from the can that’s been nestled between your thighs makes your legs fall out to the sides. You’re worse than an obedient dog in your horniness, reacting the same way to the way he moves as it would to the sound of a bell ringing.

Your dress rides up slowly along your thighs, revealing your sweaty skin that feels sticky by now and Joel clears his throat after briefly looking down. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and when you realize the effect it has on the poor man, you grab the hem and pull upwards, “It’s so hot outside today. Don’t think I’ll ever get used to the heat here in Texas.”

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he says and his face has got a pinker tint, pulse visible on the side of his neck. With his free hand, he grabs one of your knees and starts nudging your legs together again. He yanks your skirt down, “I know I’m always teasin’ ya but you can’t be doing this.”

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” you say with exasperation and move your legs out again, “It’s just very hot… and it’s not like you haven’t had a peek.”

“Hey now,” he leans forward to place the can of soda on the roof of the truck, “That ain’t a fair accusation.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” you reply, chewing on your bottom lip, “But you’re not denying it.”

“Don’t tryna make me look like the pervert here,” he scolds, taking a step towards you and causing your stomach to do somersaults, “I noticed the way you went real quiet when my hands were on you.”

“What do you mean?” You furrow your brows in confusion, “Your hands were never on m–”

“Did that bee sting really hurt that much?” He clarifies. Oh, you think whilst he smirks with triumph. Something has switched in the air surrounding you, the atmosphere has become more daring, “Yeah, I saw her; your pussy wet f’me.”

It’s true. If you think about it too much, you can still feel your heartbeat in the places where he touched you, and the pulse is rapid and overwhelming. You can’t imagine what it'll be like if he touches you underneath your dress, even if it’s simply on the outside of your panties. The thought has your underwear starting to dampen, the fabric starting to stick to you, and make you painfully aware of the wetness between your legs.

“Did ya touch yourself after?” His eyes have darkened slightly. His pupils are dilating with desire for your answer, and you nod hesitantly, overwhelmed by the need to tell him everything.

“During my shower that you told me to take,” you confess and hear him make a sound low in his throat at the mental image, “I couldn’t stop myself— I wanted you so badly. The thought of you inside me...”

This is a crossroad, you realize, you’ve said your deepest secret of depravity. On one hand, you can bolt out the door or you can make a move to show him what you really came down here for. The latter is risky but Joel is so goddamn decent that you know that if he doesn’t want this - which you doubt is the case at this point - he’ll gently reject you and never mention it again if it means that his daughter will continue having a best friend.

However, as your mind races with scenarios of what could or could not happen in this moment, Joel pulls you back into reality as his hand, cold from gripping the can, rests on your knee again but this time, it doesn’t try to make you decent like before. Instead, it slides up under your skirt in such a slow motion that you find yourself holding your breath.

“Is this what’ll quiet down that mind of yours?” He asks in a low voice, eyes flickering from your face to down between your legs and back again, “If I take a peek more to get it outta our system?”

“What are you doing?” You ask as if you do not know. It’s your turn to be scandalized by bluntness, and you find yourself gripping his arm but not hard enough to signal that you do not want him to continue. You hope that he realizes that this is not you rejecting his advances.

“I ain’t doing nothin’ that you haven’t already silently begged me to do. Perhaps sometimes - and God help me, I will probably regret it - you just needa follow your instincts when a pretty girl like you has been sendin’ me heart eyes all week,” he almost sounds annoyed with you, and to stop yourself from being scolded, your hand loosens its grip on him until you remove it altogether. He smiles, “Good girl.”

“You shouldn’t—“ you feel a rush of blood to your head, adrenaline kicking in as your thoughts circle around the repercussions that this can bring. In all honesty, you had only walked in here to have Joel’s eyes on you but now, you are getting more than you bargained for and it is making you so turned on that your mind is clear and foggy at the same time. Boldly, you sit up on the car’s hood so you can reach for the buckle of Joel’s belt, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“You’re damn right we shouldn’t be doin’ this,” he agrees immediately but doesn’t stop. His warm and rough palms skim further up your thighs until they settle by your hips, his thumbs teasing the elastic band of your panties. He starts to drag them down, the fabric nearly snapping in two when you barely register that you have to lift your ass to help him.

His fingers unintentionally caress your calves as he slides the underwear down to eventually pull them off your ankles and feet. The sensation makes your body wake up even more, a gush of wetness smearing your inner thighs and you know that you have to pull your dress up soon if you don’t want it stained.

In front of you, Joel reads your mind. He shoves the hem of your dress up as far as he can without a word with desperation in his trembling hands, and you move to let him bunch it up around your waist so he has a full view of what waits - and for long has waited - for him.

When your cunt is revealed to him, he groans like he is in pain at the sight of the slick shining on your soft youthful skin. You can see how hard he is in his jeans, cock straining against the zipper at the front of them.

He looks like he wants to touch but hesitates. The first sign of his inner conflict. You remember that he did say just a peek as if there’s an unspoken agreement that he is not to cross the line of touching what he shouldn’t want to have. It would definitely be a nuclear decision if he chooses to do it anyway. It makes you want it even more, and another gush spills from your glistening slit when you clench from excitement.

Joel swears under his breath, something that sounds like fuck it and it sets it in stone; he is going to ruin you for eternity right here on his car. He steps closer until your spread knees bump into his sides, and without saying anything you move to yank his jeans and briefs down, settling them around his hips with a soft gasp as you take in the sight of his fully hard cock. He is huge. So huge that your mouth starts salivating like you’ve already been fucked stupid and your walls try to clamp down on nothing. It’ll hurt. You want it to if it means that you won’t doubt if it ever happened tomorrow.

“Tell me you want this too,” he seeks your reassurance.

“So fucking badly, Mr. Miller— Joel,” you say without any hint of second-guessing in your voice. You scoot further forward on the car and lean back so he has better access, trying your best to be elegant in your messy state, “Please, want you in me.”

“Jeez, honey,” his breath shakes, “Already so eager. I haven’t even felt if she’s ready f’me.”

With one hand gripping your left thigh, he uses two fingers on his right hand to slide through your wet folds and you don’t think you have ever been this turned on for anyone; when he flips his palm upwards and shoves two fingers inside of you, you feel more arousal drip from your cunt and pool in his hand. The longing you have felt since you saw him for the first time finds somewhere to empty all its desire and desperation into, and you whine like you’re in a state of agony.

“Shhh…” he soothes and curls his digits inside of you until you think you might start crying, squelching cunt trying to pull him further into you as he fingers you lazily. Your gaze drops to how his cock twitches whilst standing in the air, “You’re grippin’ me so good, doll, can’t wait to fuck this pussy. Don’t cry like that. Be patient.”

“Please, I’m so—“ your palms are flat on the hood of the car, your mouth hangs open in ecstasy and you stare down at where his ring- and middle finger disappears repeatedly into you, “It’s yours, please.”

“I know it’s mine, don’t gotta say it, I know,” he coos at each of your whimpers, gets you worked up until you are just on the brink of coming, and then he moves quickly. He pulls his fingers out of you, smears his cock with what you’ve soaked his whole palm with, and leans over your gasping frame to nudge at your quivering hole.

When he finally enters you, the both of you gasp in unison. He struggles with it for a moment, rubbing the skin just below your belly button to make you relax because he is so much bigger than you had first anticipated, and such a tight fit that you think he might split you in two.

“Goddamn, you are tight,” he says through gritted teeth, “Feels fuckin’ amazin’.”

“Ah,” you feel like letting yourself turn into a drooling mess already, pulsating around him from the way your body struggles to take him, “Joel, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, honey,” he encourages, showing no signs of pulling out of you to free you from the burn of his girth. He growls low in his throat as you struggle with it, and you know it’s because your walls are clenching around him as you involuntarily move, “Stay still, let her get used to it.”

“It hurts,” you whine, sliding slightly on the metal underneath your ass. He presses his hips forward even further and causes you to whimper but in doing so, he holds you firmly in place by using his strong frame.

“I know but ya just gotta relax,” he goes on. He places one hand flat on the hood of the car and then places the other right on your hip, thumb going inwards to find your clit. It pulses under his finger, trying to find out whether to find the pain delicious or not.

When his thumb starts going in circles on you, your thigh muscles start to twitch and flex from burning desire instead of uncomfortable pain. He presses down a little to stroke your sensitive nub with even more determination and smiles at his success when a moan slips from your mouth, “That’s it, honey. Just enjoy this until you’re creamin’ on me, and then I can fuck her real good.”

Your walls start to flutter a few seconds after the first new round of pleasurable sounds leave you, and the more his finger moves on you, the easier it gets to take him because the pain turns into nothing more than a dull ache in the background of ecstasy. He has you breathing faster and faster, and in return, he starts moving his thumb up and down to make his touches more direct.

God, your clit is hardening underneath his torment. He stares at what he is doing, an occasional grunt leaving him from how you involuntarily squeeze his length, and you know that he can sense it, suddenly smirking to himself as you near your climax. He admires the sight of you, eyes glued to the way the hood of your clit has drawn back, “Babydoll, look at that. Such a pretty pussy, clit peekin’ out and all. Does she wanna come on my cock?”

“Please, yes, oh please,” you nod repeatedly, mouth hanging open in an o-shape and breaths coming out in small puffs. Your climax is within reach, and Joel looks concentrated as he more than willingly hands it over to you whilst buried deep inside of you. The concentration on his face is probably from keeping himself from spilling inside of you too soon, but God, he looks gorgeous as he determinedly strokes your cunt.

“Yes, yes, yesyesyes— oh God, I’m… fuck, I’m coming!” You shake with pleasure as he causes your pussy to spasm, your hands barely able to find out what to do and making you grab at both the metal underneath you with one hand and his wrist with the other. Your eyes are squeezed shut but you do not doubt that he is staring at you in awe as you come so hard that reality fades.

“Good girl,” he rasps, voice unsteady and hand hitting the hood of the car as the feeling becomes overwhelming, “Oh sweetheart, you’re choking my dick so g—“

He swears quietly and then loudly, and suddenly, his cool demeanor crumbles because he is spilling his load inside of you with a pathetic and strained grunt. His hips stutter slightly and warmth spreads slowly inside of you, mixing with your own arousal.

You look down to where the two of you are connected, feeling fucked out despite not even having had the chance to feel him move inside of you. His come has started to spill from you already, dripping obscenely from your cunt.

“Fuck,” you hear Joel say above you. He slips out of you and leaves you gaping and mewling for a second, starting to take a step back. You catch him with your legs before he is too far away, and he reluctantly steps close to you again. He looks embarrassed but gives you a smile to hide it, “Felt too good, honey. This pussy’s makin’ me all sweet on you.”

“I’m that irresistible?” You grin in your post-orgasmic haze, not really giving a crap about the lack of a proper fuck from how much dopamine is coursing through your veins.

Joel takes hold of your thighs as they are wrapped around your body and lifts them off of himself, “You’re makin’ an old bastard like me weak in the knees, so maybe. Hah! Comin’ too soon like a goddamn teenager.”

“I liked it,” you admit without hesitation, still basking in the sweet afterglow, “Made me feel sexy and powerful.”

He scoffs but can’t fight the smile on his face, “Now now, don’t get cocky on me. Crawl back a little, spread ya legs f’me.”

You giggle and do as you are told, presenting yourself to him on the hood of his car. You plant your bare feet on the metal, lay back against the windshield, and smile.

“Now look at that,” he tuts as he admires his work; white ropes of come dripping down from your slit and onto the surface beneath you. He lays both hands flat on the car and leans forward, and before you know it, his mouth is covering your whole cunt and he eats from you like he’s paid to do it.

“Jesus,” you groan, throwing your head back and grabbing onto the roof of the car with one hand whilst the other finds Joel’s hair. You tug and he moans against you, sending vibrations through your whole lower body and beginning the first stirrings of another high. You don’t think that you can take it, squirming just like you had done moments earlier.

Joel makes a sound of disapproval. He scoops his arms under your thighs until he can lay his hands on top of them, holding you tightly against his mouth and causing you to cry towards the ceiling when he makes your second orgasm approach so quickly that nothing in your brain makes sense except what he is doing between your legs.

The hand on the roof of his car goes to his head too. You slide your fingers on both hands through his hair until they lay at the back of his neck, and then you yank once more at the curls there. His tongue works at your clit, swiping back and forth over it until you think that you might see God.

However, it doesn’t stay there. Instead, it is replaced by his nose so that he can eat his own spill straight from you by dipping his tongue hungrily inside of you.

“Joel— holy fuck, you’re incredible,” you close your eyes to concentrate on your pleasure. Who knew that the man could fuck with his tongue? He is warm and wet inside of you, slurping pornographically until you are clean of any remains of his come.

You are just about to finish a second time when he halts whatever he is doing. He pulls back only a few inches so you can still feel his uneven breaths against your cunt.

“No! Please,” your eyes fly open, you cry desperately, and throw your head forward dramatically. You want to thrash but he still has your legs locked in his arms, so you decide to pull out the big guns and hope for the best, “Please, Daddy! Pleasepleaseplea—“

“What the fuck did you just say t’me?” He looks up at you but you are too busy screwing your eyes shut in agony whilst whining for more. He growls and releases one of your legs, “I was already gonna make you a happy young lady but now, I’m gonna make you come so hard your little brain goes dumb. See how it feels. Impatient girl.”

His hand goes between your legs. He turns his palm upwards and then shoves two thick fingers inside of your pussy like earlier, curling them slightly and then pumping them so quickly that blood starts speeding through your system a second after and your heart rate goes so fast that you know that you are just about to come.

“Joel, oh my— fuck!” You whimper.

“Wrong word,” he replies.

You correct yourself immediately because there’s no way he is stopping again to chastise you once more, “Daddy, oh I— mhmm, I’m gonna come for you. Don’t stop, please, please Daddy, pleasepleaseplea—!”

He responds just how you had liked: He closes his mouth around your swollen clit and sucks hard, finally severing all connection to your brain and you come so hard that you actually squeal. Joel groans against you, feeling you squeeze the digits he has buried deep inside you. He draws back his fingers, pressing upwards the whole way.

Clear liquid squirts from you the second he pulls them out. The gushes that follow are so intense that the leg he isn’t holding anymore shakes so violently that the metal rattles under you, the car staining with your come. He repeats the move again and again, over and over, and watches the steady trickle down the hood and onto the concrete floor that turns a dark gray.

Euphoria courses through your being as you come in a way that you have never felt before. Your limbs tingle as warmth spreads out from beneath your belly button, your cunt pulses with eager pleasure, and you sob through the waves that crash over you without giving you time to recover from the last. The whole room feels brighter and its colors more vibrant.

“Shh, baby, let it happen, feels so good, don’t it? That’s it,” Joel coos at you the whole way through, guides you through it when you barely know how to use your words. He has straightened to his full height again but you don’t know when, and he has slowed his fingers down to tease out a few aftershocks. You whimper feebly at each one, and when Joel seems satisfied with what he has drawn out of you, he covers your whole mound with his palm to soothe the feeling of overstimulation that settles.

“Soundproof,” he mutters, once again reading your mind when you come to your senses again and start thinking about your noise levels with furrowed brows and eyes flitting from him to the garage door. Your heartbeat has started to slow again, and the relief of knowing no one has been able to hear you makes you slump against the windshield and breathe deeply.

The remnants of your orgasm have made you smile, your body slipping into a deep state of satisfaction when the anxieties have been dispelled. Joel moves his hand up your lower body until it settles between your breasts, still covered by your dress. He caresses your heaving chest, looking at you boyishly for the first time, “You good? Didn’t cause any brain damage, did I?”

“You think this truck has ever seen action like that before?” You joke breathlessly.

“Probably ain’t the first time I disappointed a gorgeous lady in its presence,” he says with an apologetic smile, “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Disappointed? You’re insane,” you stretch your arms above your head to get some of the last bits of euphoria out of your body, trying to ignore the way he has just called you a gorgeous lady. He probably means nothing by it. As your stretch peaks, you moan gently, “I came two times. Hard. I’m not complaining.”

“Just saying that I woulda liked to do it… properly, I guess,” he talks as he stuffs himself back into his underwear and pants, most likely trying to feel the least uncomfortable about mentioning his overexcitement. Automatically, he steps back when you jump off the car to adjust your dress.

“This doesn’t have to be a one-time thing,” you try to act casual as you say it but there’s no way you are accepting the best sex of your life to be a thing you will never have again, reducing it to a movie merely playing behind your eyelids as a cruel reminder of what is unattainable.

“And when would we have time for that?” He asks, zipping up his jeans. He wipes his hands on them, “We can’t, honey.”

“We just did,” you mumble, picking up your underwear from the floor. You turn the panties in your hands, just about to bend down to put them on before deciding against it. Boldly, you stand in front of him and stuff your sticky underwear into his front pocket; closest to his crotch. There are extra pairs in your bag in Sarah’s room. He can have these.

He looks down briefly and then finds your eyes. His jaw clenches as he weighs his words, “When?”

“Aren’t you driving me to the airport on Sunday?�� You smile and kiss his cheek, and then you leave him, your soda in hand and a mess on the floor.

.

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[dino-fart]

Heartbreak and Headaches | Chapter 1: The Proposal

Pairing: No Outbreak!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Genre: Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Summary: You have had the week of your life and finally have come downtime. Too bad life had other plans and your neighbor’s fence breaks. You hire a contractor to fix it and it seems like he can fix more than the fence.

Summary | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Like everyone in this world, you had made mistakes in your life and fixed them. Now you finally felt at peace, you’ve climbed up the corporate ladder to where you are now the COO. Your job was to make sure the company and its branches were running smoothly. It was a stressful job but seeing the results made it worth your while. And the salary that came with it helped relieve your financial worries. 

During your journey, you had focused on your career and you barely opened yourself up for relationships. You had one years ago that lasted only a month, you were the one that broke it off after realizing how busy you were becoming. After that, you took on some lovers for your physical needs and for some time you were content with just that. Until you met Jacob...He owned a coffee shop by your work and you had met him when he memorized your order. 

He was charming, goofy, and fun. You found him amusing and he always did his best to make your morning before you walked into work and you appreciated how hard he tried. Finally, one day he asked you out and you took a while to get back to him. He was the exact opposite of you and frankly, you were nervous. You said yes, giving him a chance, he was cute after all. 

On the first date, he shared that he had been in a six-year relationship with his ex and planned to marry her until he found out she was cheating on him with his best friend. You felt bad for him and you became nervous by this, worrying he was going to compare you to his ex. Eventually, you forgot about it as he proved you wrong. He was faithful and encouraging, a perfect boyfriend...So you continued to tell yourself. 

It’d been two years and your relationship was still strong. But you could feel the cracks getting bigger. You were able to distract yourself from thinking about it as you moved from your apartment to your first house in a nice neighborhood. Your home was beautiful, it was what you had wanted this whole time. Sure it had a few renovations but it wasn’t anything major. 

Your neighbor gave you a number to a contractor she uses. Joel Miller. She wouldn’t stop talking about how great of a job he did and how nice his ass was. You humored her and decided to call this Joel to help with your porch. The first thing you noticed was how strong of a Texas accent he had then you noticed just how polite he was. He told you he could come by in the evening to check it out. 

The evening came and you had just got home. You were dressed in your work clothes which were a long-sleeved blue satin blouse, a black pencil skirt, and black heels, and your hair was in a braided bun. You set your purse down when you heard the doorbell ring and your dog, Piper, barking. “Piper, shush!” You hushed your dog as you went to the door. You opened it and there stood a man with short dark hair and a beard wearing a navy blue shirt, and denim jeans.

 His eyes met yours and he gave you a small smile. “Evenin’ ma’am, I hope now is still okay for me to check out the porch?” He said. Ah, this was the infamous Joel Miller. You should’ve guessed when you noticed your neighbor sitting on her porch watching. 

“Evening Joel!” She shouted. 

Joel turned to see her and waved, “Evenin’ Mrs. Hudson.” 

You chuckled slightly at your neighbor and turned to Joel, “Yes, now is still fine, um, would you like some water?” 

“No thank you, ma’am. I’ll just take a look and be out of your hair soon.” He gave you a nod. You nodded back and stepped inside, leaving the door open. Piper sat at the entrance of the house and watched the man begin to examine the boards. Some time went by and you heard Piper begin to whine and bark. You got up from the couch and walked to the door, you saw Joel in his truck, taking out some tools. 

“Be nice, Piper.” You said but the dog began to bark louder and its tail and ears were on alert. You furrowed your brows and carefully stepped around the broken boards of the porch to step into the front yard. You looked around trying to figure out who was there. You weren’t scared though, your neighbors were out and Piper was on alert. Suddenly you heard boards breaking and turned around to see Jacob tripping over your neighbor’s fence. 

He fell on the other side and down came the panel of the nicely painted fence. “Oh jesus!” You shouted. 

“What in the world?!” Mrs. Hudson yelled and ran toward Jacob. 

Jacob grumbled and got up with a bag in his hand and a six-pack of beer in the other. Right behind him, another man walked over with a pack of beer. Jacob finally turned to you and smiled widely, “Babe!” 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You shouted. 

“Oh shit, sorry babe! Mike and I were trying to watch the game at my apartment and the TV went out. So I thought about my super sexy, super smart, and super-rich girlfriend and realized we could watch the game at her place!” 

“While breaking the fence of my neighbors and causing disruption everywhere? A neighborhood which I just moved to Jacob.” 

“Oh...I’m so sorry, ma’am, I’ll pay for the damages.” Jacob said to Mrs. Hudson. Mrs. Hudson did not believe him and stared at you. 

You were embarrassed and sighed in anger, ‘Why didn’t you just drive here, why did you come from the backyard?” 

“My car is having issues and I texted you to come to get us but I know you’re busy. So we took an Uber as far as we could and then snuck in the back.” Jacob said and felt Mrs. Hudson’s eyes bore into him. 

“It’s because it’s a gated community...You know what. Go inside.” You scolded. Jacob and Mike and Mike weren’t paying attention and stomped on the porch and broke more boards. 

“Oh shit, stupid porch!” Mike hissed in pain and made it inside. Piper wouldn’t stop growling at the two of them. You pinched the bridge of your nose and let out an angry sigh. 

“I hope that’s not going to be a pattern.” Mrs. Hudson said. 

“It won’t I promise. I will pay for the damages.” You reassured softly. 

Mrs. Hudson relaxed and shook her head, “I wouldn’t put up with that.” 

You just nodded, your cheeks red with anger and embarrassment. You headed back to the house and bumped into Joel accidentally. “Oh shit, sorry...I wasn’t paying attention.” You apologized quickly. 

Joel shook his head, “It’s alright, seems like you got...Company.” 

“A nuisance more like it.” You whispered. 

You carefully went back inside and shut the door. “Babe, do you have chips and dip?” Jacob asked while looking in your pantry. 

“I’m on a diet, remember?” You said trying to be calm. 

“Oh, you look fine.” 

“It’s to stabilize my weight for my condition, it’s got nothing to do with my looks.” 

“Oh okay.” 

You didn’t respond. 

“I got chips and dip!” Mike shouted while pulling it out of his shopping bag. 

“Sweet! Babe, come join us!” Jacob walked over to you. 

You glared at him, “I don’t like sports.” 

“I know but come sit next to me, I love your shoulder massages~” 

You rolled your eyes and walked over to the fridge to get out your wine bottle. 

“Damn, the whole bottle?” Jacob laughed. He walked over to the couch and patted the cushion to invite you. You walked right outside with Piper. 

“Dude, I thought you said, she’d be cool with it?” Mike asked. 

“She is, she’s probably had a rough day.” Jacob shrugged. 

“You should check on her.” 

“She likes to have alone time.” Jacob opened the White Claw and began to drink it. Mike scratched his head but then watched the game, he wasn’t going to get involved. 

A few hours later it was 10 pm and your eyes were getting heavy. You were waiting for the game to be over and once it was you would kick Mike out and have a few words with Jacob. Joel had left a few hours ago, telling you he’d text you the quote for the porch and for your neighbor’s fence. You got up from the chair and walked inside. 

The TV was finally off and Mike walked out of the house, waving goodbye to the both of you. “Hey babe, you look like you need rest.” Jacob smiled at you. He was sweeping the floor and putting the dishes away. You raised a brow at this, you let it go, you were too tired to argue. You just nodded and made your way to your room. 

“Hey babe...Thanks, it won’t happen again...Also, I have a surprise for you tomorrow, come by the shop.” Jacob smiled at you. You yawned and just nodded. You walked up the stairs and got into bed. Piper joined you and curled by your feet. You fell fast asleep and part of you was disappointed that Jacob didn’t come to check in on you. You decided to indulge in his request. You would definitely have to think about your future with him. 

The next morning, you had a horrible headache from the wine and you were exhausted. You made sure you looked professional but the dark circles under your eyes were obvious. You texted Jacob that you’d be by the shop after work, you didn’t want to see him first thing in the morning. You made it to work and your assistant tried to use her undereye brightener to hide your dark circles. You appreciated her help as it did make somewhat of a difference. 

You attended your first meeting and your headache was killing you. You had to excuse yourself and your boss waited for you outside of the bathroom. You were surprised by this and expected a scolding. Instead, he held out two small pills. “I hate hangovers.” He simply said. He gave you a gentle smile and you took the pills. “Black coffee helps.” He said and walked away from you. 

You thanked him and felt blessed to have a boss that was understanding. He had become your mentor and always had your back. You took the pills and drank some coffee and you were good to go after an hour. The rest of the day you were determined to stay productive. So much so that you worked late and forgot about Jacob. 

You made it home and saw Jacob standing in the front yard. “Is your TV out again?” You simply said. 

“No, I’m here to meet my beautiful girlfriend and give her a surprise!” He said enthusiastically. 

“Oh?” You smiled a little. 

“I got tickets to the game tomorrow!! And they’re front row!” Jacob ran over to embrace you. You frowned and patted his back. “Aaaannnddd you and my family are joining me!” Jacob finally said and pulled back to show you five tickets. 

Your brows were raised at this, “What’s the occasion?” 

“I’m opening another store!” He smiled. You forced a smile and nodded. When you had been promoted and got a new house, you celebrated alone. “Tomorrow at 3 pm!” Jacob said snapping you out of your thoughts. 

“Tomorrow at 3 pm.” You just said, figuring maybe it would be a good time. You liked his family, you bonded with his little sister. 

“Okay, I gotta go, babe, see you tomorrow!” Jacob said and rushed over to his car. You watched him leave and sighed sadly. This weekend you would end things. You had to. 

The next day, you left early for the game and you were surprised to see your boss leaving for the game as well. The two of you rode separately and met up after check-in. The two of you searched for your seats and your boss invited you to dinner with his family after the game. You agreed, enjoying his company more than your boyfriend’s. Speaking of your boyfriend, you found your way to the seats and Jacob greeted you by putting on a sports jersey over your head. 

“Put it on! You can’t wear your work clothes at a sports game!” He smiled and then turned to his dad. You slipped the shirt on over your blouse and sat down next to him. What surprised you both was seeing Jacob’s ex sitting in the seats in front of them. You said nothing, focusing on the game but Jacob was focused on the beautiful ring on his ex’s finger. Half time came and the announcers began to move the cameras to the audience for the ‘Kiss Cam’. 

Lots of couples were smiling and kissing each other. You sighed sadly seeing it and missed the days when you and Jacob were intimate, it had been months... As if on queue, the camera was on you and Jacob. Everyone around you was shouting and cheering. You noticed Jacob’s ex on the camera was simply staring. 

You turned to Jacob, waiting to see what he’d do and you honestly wished he didn’t do anything...Because what he did was so much worse...Jacob stood up and waved to the camera, he walked over to the end of the aisle of seats and gestured for you to follow him. You were confused but did so. Jacob took your hand in his and you braced for the kiss, only he didn’t lean in. 

He held your hand and went down on one knee. Your eyes grew wide in horror at his actions. “Babe, we’ve been together for two years and it’s been the best two years of my life...I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You’re way better than my ex, like twenty times better. Also, I don’t have a ring right now but I’ll get one. I know I’ve made mistakes but I’m going to fix them...Like the broken fence of your neighbor’s. So would you give this fence breaker the honor of being your husband?” Jacob smiled and people around him laughed at his joke. You didn’t know what came over you, the headache was coming back and all you could hear was ringing. You felt your heartbeat faster and your palms were getting sweaty. 

You shook your head, you were not about to have a panic attack in front of everyone. You yanked your hand back aggressively and glared at him. “No.” Was all you struggled to say, you were not about to lay into him, not here. You felt tears form in your eyes and ran up the bleachers and into the passageway of the stadium to leave. Jacob was left there on his knees, in complete shock. 

The announcers sympathized with him and the mascot came over to comfort him. His ex shook her head and paid attention to the game again. 

You didn’t answer your phone all day, you couldn’t speak properly, and you were too busy trying to stop crying. You lay there on your bed, the sports jersey was in the living room trash can, wincing in pain from the headache and the heartache. It was late when you woke up and you sat up on the bed. You answered your text messages from your boss who was worried about you. You then answered the texts from Jacob’s sister and his mother. 

You appreciated their kindness. You set your phone down and went down to the kitchen to grab snacks. You sat back on the couch and turned on the news. You sighed in relief that no one was talking about the game...Well you spoke too soon. 

The sports segment came on and at the forefront was what happened. You turned the TV off immediately and heard your phone buzzing. You grabbed it to see a text from Jacob’s mother. A text you wish she didn’t send but appreciated it nonetheless. She told you that Jacob had been talking about his ex for the past week after he bumped into her at the store. 

He then found out she was married and had been obsessed with the idea. Which explains his impromptu proposal. You weren’t an idiot, you had put two and two together when you noticed how intensely he was staring at his ex’s ring. You shut off your phone and went to bed, thankful that it was going to be the weekend...

Tagging: @deepbatched, @vikingqueen28, @leonkennedyslefthand, @stewardofningishzida, @icytrickster17, @onlinecemetery, @marki-moo0, @absolute-not-original, @creamecafe, @scrubb, @nightingal3-tales, @alliethedaydreamer, @strangesthirdeye, @alexa-33, @zombiedixon89, @sunnsettee, @deliciousfestsalad, @kiaradaniell, @freyafriggafrey, @criticalroleobssedperson, @avengersfan25, @lunamoonbby, @androgynouspersonapricotfan, @foxcantswim, @namorkawaiiwife, @starkiller-queen, @kyuupidwrites, @luciamajer, @renatas10, @ayamenimthiriel, @gaiagurl05, @dipsylou, @pinkthick, @hansai, @andywinter16, @iambored24601, @3-cheese-tortellini, @cumbrbatchbenedict, @ironstrange1991, @aribas-stuff, @rianumochi, @vibaracal, @lostpirateinwonderland, @ninebluehearts, @moonlightdivine, @kittenlittle24, @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite, @tuquoquebrute, @grunge-pun-kat, @stl4315, @sadimusprimee, @mrknightt, @the-jackals, @demimaree, @still-wanna-be-corrupted, @memester-png, @keep-beating-my-dear-heart, @ellenmunn, @dreamingoffall, @thepizessamcedian, @blueturd16, @owod3, @giraffefej, @xuniverseofbeachesx, @aleatoria2000, @lordofthundersstuff, @fanfictionaddiction99, @wildwollff, @blue-430, @shmaptainshmerica07, @chershirecat000, @aestheticangel612, @narlinj, @marantha, @xattislc, @jenna-m, @rock-candysweet, @eh-nothanks, @benigndoll, @batgurl42, @sketcherperson, @bowie-frommars, @notarealscorpio​, @middwestkidd​

#joel x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal character x reader

[radiowallet]

Gorgeous

Summary: You help Javi relax in the pool one evening. WC: 2.4K Pairing: Javi G. x Female!Reader (established relationship) Warnings: 18+ Minors be gone! Handjob, cumplay, praise kink, body worship.

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This bright yellow pool lounge is almost definitely not made for two fully grown adults. Javi’s frame already overwhelms it, wide shoulders and soft belly spread out in the most delicious way as he floats through the water, wide eyes beckoning you to him without saying a single word.

Both of you nearly topple overboard as he reaches for you, meaty arms wrapping around you and pulling you into the float, half of your frame draped across him, your legs tangling together where they dangle in the water. Javi isn’t complaining, only wrapping his arm tighter around your waist and pressing a chlorine scented kiss to the crown of your head. 

“Perfecto,” he murmurs quietly, before reaching for the glass of whiskey he filled before you came out for the evening, offering you a sip before taking his own. 

The air is warm despite the night sky drifting listlessly above you, the stars lighting the world from up above, the soft glow of the pool lights from below. The two of you don’t speak, content to let time pass slowly, the crashing waves of the salty sea mixing with the sound of Javi’s breath in your ear. 

The cool water sends goosebumps across your arm, but Javi’s strong hand chases them away, lulling you down from the heights of a hectic day. You’re practically limp against him, head resting over the steady beat of his heart, fingers making senseless patterns across his bare chest, and it’s only when you press your lips to the curve of his neck that you realize that Javi has yet to join you in the loose waves of relaxation, his shoulders still tight beneath your kiss.

So like your Javi, coaxing you into the pool with the singular goal of erasing your worries, only to let his own cling to his weary bones. He’s content to carry his stress quietly, while every other action of his is done with vibrant joy. He doesn’t know any other way to live, his kindness radiating brighter than the sun. Day after day you have been blessed to live in his warm summer shine, letting him care for you in every way he knows how. If only you could give as much as he shares in return, and melt away the stress that makes a home inside his heart. 

You consider briefly pulling him into the water and letting him work his woes away between your legs, but you know how that story ends– pleasure pulled from you again and again– this beautiful man only happy to take his fill after he greedily gives as much to you as he can. He truly is infuriating in the best ways possible, grinning wider with each wave of pleasure he ripples down your spine, refusing to slide into you until you’re soaked and quivering beneath his touch. 

You press one more kiss to his shoulders, lips matching to a constellation of freckles and listen to him hum in appreciation, his busy fingers already drawing their own tiny patterns along your hip. Small tremors shadow his touch, and you let out a sigh of appreciation, letting it mingle with the distant sound of sea water. Another idea comes to you, almost by accident, your fingertips drifting just a little lower, catching at the coarse hair starting just below his belly button, a sigh slipping from between his lips when you do. 

You start slowly, hand moving gently over the swell of his belly, the patch of hair leading down past the waist band teasing your appetite. He sighs again, the noise choking off as it bleeds into your name, soft brown eyes peeking down at you, a smile teasing at the corners of his lips. Your lips find his neck again, kissing gently, a scratch of your teeth following. The smile flips up higher, his whole face lighting up brighter than the stars in the sky and you fall a little bit more in love with him, unable to look away as he leans down to capture your lips in a kiss. The float tilts dangerously left then right, peals of laughter breaking your mouths apart.

“Should we retire for the night?”

You don’t answer right away, instead letting your hand continue to make soothing patterns along his tummy, lower and lower with each pass, watching as the golden skin shivers and swells with each haggard breath that catches in his throat. Finally– finally– your finger catches at the waistband of his bathing suit, and you don’t hesitate in slipping the tip of one finger between the heavy fabric and Javi’s smooth skin. 

“M-mi…mi amor ...let me…”

You cut his words off with a soft shush, lips pressing gently to the sharp cut of his jaw, a second finger sneaking down to join the other where it’s brushing up against the coarse hair at the base of his cock. He’s already half-hard, the outline of him growing with each small movement of your fingers. You’re in no rush, content to watch his cock lengthen slowly, his breath coming in short spurts as you continue to stroke softly at the heat of his skin, your fingers trapped beneath the slick fabric of his bathing suit. 

The hand wrapped around your waist, moves in time with your strokes, his own finger slipping between the thin string holding your bikini bottom in place. He tries once, twice, three times to touch you, the hand not pulling gently at your bathing suit attempting to sneak between your legs, but you stop him at every attempt. Halting your ministrations to swat his hand away, always pressing a kiss just below his ear in apology every time that you do.

“Let me take care of you.” Your voice barely breaks a whisper as you coax his waistband lower, just enough for the weight of his cock to bob free, drops of water splashing up as it smacks down on the swell of stomach. You lick your lips, wishing for the first time you were in a bed, if only so you could settle your body between the thick expanse of his thighs and let the tip of your tongue trace the veins along the underside of him before swallowing him down to the back of your throat. You settle for the tip of one one finger, letting your own moan of pleasure drip out of you at the sight of his cock quivering beneath your light touch. 

You glance up quickly, catching sight of Javi’s twisted features, his brows bunched in and eyes squeezing shut in concentration, plump bottom lip worried between his teeth. Drops of water cling to him, his curls, his temple, the hook of his nose. You watch as one follows the cut of his chin and down his throat to bead at the base of his neck. You long to dip your tongue out and catch at it, curious to know if it’s pool water or sweat clinging to his skin as he struggles against his shuddering breath. 

You call his name, a playful nudge of your nose into his jaw followed by your lips until honey brown eyes are blinking open in wonder as he looks back at you. You take your time, reaching up and running your fingers softly through his curls, tucking them gently behind his ear. 

“Relax, my love. Just breathe.”

You make a show of breathing in slowly, keeping your eyes locked on his, counting the seconds inside your head.

In, two, three, four. 

Out, two, three, four.

He breathes with you, shoulders loosening with each pull of air in and out of his lungs. You reward his efforts, wrapping your fingers loosely around the base of his cock. He startles, enough to rock the float side to side, and another wave of giggles filter through both of you as fresh pool water splashes up into your laps, breaking the last of the tension free. It’s enough to relax him completely, his body melting back as you slowly stroke upwards. He whines, high and sweet, and you wish you could bottle the sound and carry it around with you, something to remind you how much this man means to you. 

You keep close to the base at first, fingers curled loosely around him, marveling at the way your gentle touch has him growing thicker, harder, until finally you stroke all the way up, pulling his foreskin back to reveal the head of his cock, a bead of precum waiting for you. In that one moment you can’t help yourself, swiping at the liquid with your thumb and bringing it to Javi’s lips. He opens obediently, sucking the digit into the hot cavern of his mouth, letting the taste of himself sit heavy on his tongue. 

You moan in tandem, a familiar heat pooling in your core as Javi swirls his tongue around the tip of your thumb. Something hot and wet joins the cool water between your legs and you can’t help the shiver that pushes you closer to Javi’s warmth. He grins as you slide your thumb from his mouth, satisfied with the effect he’s starting to have on you, but you’re determined at this point, your hand returning to the base of his cock, stroking with a set pace that has him crying out your name. 

“Shhh, sweet boy. I’ve got you.” You chase your words with a soft press of your lips, letting them linger at each drop of water that clings to his chest. You can feel the thump of his heartbeat as you kiss along his bare skin again and again, keeping your strokes steady along the length of his cock. The water chafes at your grip, but Javi only seems to moan louder when you hand catches at his foreskin, thumb swirling around the head before you stroke back down to the base. All the while you never stop talking, whispering filthy praise into the golden hues of his skin. 

“So good for me. Such a good boy. Love those little noises you’re making for me. You can be louder, baby. Just us out here. Can you be louder for me?”

He whimpers at your words, the praise sending him into a spiral, and you can’t help but reward him, increasing your pace, squeezing harder at the base, knowing that’s what starts to tip him over the edge. He tries to thrust up to meet your grip, but you squeeze your legs where they’re tangled with his own, stilling his movements as you press the heat of your core to the meat of his thigh. The pressure is intoxicating, and you’re just as desperate suddenly, fighting the urge to thrust your own hips down. You settle for wrapping your legs just a little tighter before focusing again on the weight of Javi’s cock between your fingers. 

“I have you, Javi,” you promise, making sure to twist your wrist just enough to pull another drop of precum from the tip of his cock, little mewls spilling out of him as you do. “I promise I have you.”

He nods, eyes slipping shut, brows curling in and down as his body goes taut from the pressure of your touch. You’re having trouble deciding where to look, eyes drifting from where his toes are curling in, up the tight draw of his legs and the clench of his thighs. The length of him is flushed red from tip to base pulses in your hand as you work him closer and closer to the edge, his chest rising and falling with the pace of your touch. 

You follow the path up his neck, veins popping perfectly from the strain of it all, up to the clench of his jaw and the tick of his cheek. His eyes are still closed, but you’re feeling greedy for the first time tonight and so you let go of his cock, letting it smack back down to the water pooling in your laps, a pathetic cry breaking past Javi’s lips. 

“N-no…please, please don’t…”

You lean up the best you can and kiss him soundly, praying the lounger doesn’t flip over in the process. You slip your tongue between his lips, searching for the hint of his own taste you had left behind earlier before finally pulling away. 

“Open your eyes, Javi. Let me see you.”

He takes one slow breath in before opening his eyes, brown practically gone, the black of his pupils blown wide with arousal. You kiss him again, quick and sweet, before once again wrapping your hand around his cock, stroking him with intent. You don’t look away from his face as you move your hand faster, watching with rapt attention as he slowly starts to fall apart in front of your very eyes. 

“So pretty, my love. You’re so pretty when you come.”

A breathy whine ratchets from his throat, his eyes wide and eyebrows pinched, and you can see the very moment before it all comes crumbling down. Everything quiets, his lips part around a silent quiver, moonlight catching in the white of his eyes and then he’s falling, his gorgeous features stretched and curved beneath the dark night sky. Your name is cried out and his fist splashes in the water, as warm wet heaven pours out of him, coating the swell of his belly and dripping between your fingers. You refuse to stop, stroking him through wave after wave of his release. It seems to go on forever, his hips bucking slightly, his control faltering as the aftershocks rocket through his system. 

Finally, blissfully, his body slumps into the float, every bone in his body turned to loose string, a gentle smile that tells you how at peace he truly is. You indulge yourself one final time, dragging your sticky fingers through the mess on his stomach, watching as drops of his come pearl up and float along the water. You bring your fingers to your lips, allowing yourself a small taste, savoring the salty brine as it settles on your tastebuds, before sharing the rest with Javi. He’s dazed, happily parting his lips for you, cleaning your fingers off one by one, a lazy pace to the stroke of his tongue. 

Once he’s had his fill, a soft hum drifting out of him as his eyes drift shut yet again, you settle back into this side, one more kiss pressed to the beat of his heart. You know it’s only a matter of time before he finds his second wind, Javi’s own restless hands desperate to repay your actions in kind, his own praise waiting in the wings. You won’t be able to stop him, you don’t want to, your own needs still simmering in the background, but for now you’re content to watch him beneath the starlight, sated and relaxed. 

Gorgeous. 

Dedications-

To my dearest @astroboots who is so supportive of all my hoe ways and is off on a new adventure! I am so happy for you and I expect many many food porn spam pictures from here on out.

To my lovely @jazzelsaur for beta reading and once again assuring me that this is hot. And also agreeing with me that Javi G. deserves nothing more than to be told what a good boy he is.

And to @write-and-buried who has listened to my unhinged ramblings regarding all of my writing and hasn't stopped encouraging me since the moment she came shrieking into my DM's.

#Javi G fic #Javi G fanfic #Javi G. x f!Reader #javi g x f!reader #javi g fic #javi gutierrez fic #javi gutierrez x female!reader #javi gutierrez #the unbearable weight of massive talent #the unbearable weight of massive talent fic #tuwomt fic #tuwomt fanfic #pedro pascal character x reader

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Whatever My Wife Wants

Summary: On your honeymoon, Javi decides to break out a new accessory you've never seen him wear before. Little does he know, that seeing him wear a chain for the first time is about to drive you wild.

Word Count: 4.5K

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (do better, but also its your honeymoon so who am I to say), oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, paise kink, literally the biggest, fattest, ugliest breeding kink (I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not), marriage kink (?) creampie, cum play, kind of exhibitionism (like if you SQUINT), talks of starting a family, Javi LOVES his wife, Javi in a CHAIN, Javi on his honeymoon deserves its own warning, did I mention that Javi LOVES his wife?!

A/N: shoutout to my sweet @honeyedmiller for this request after reblogging this MASTERPIECE from @enstatia. It's supposed to be a painting of Din, but it gave me such big Javi vibes, and I really haven't been the same since picturing the one and only Javier Peña in a chain (bc If i can't unsee it, you shouldn't be allowed to either) 😵‍💫 Also shoutout to Lucien Flores for singlehandedly ruining my life today with that new clip from the Uninvited (but also you can't tell me that this outfit is so Javi on the beach coded PHEW)

Can be read as a standalone or as a part of the Never Too Late Series!

Javi had never been one for jewelry- well, that was until a few days ago when a new golden wedding band had made a home on his hand. Since you had slipped it on his finger, Javi couldn’t get enough of watching it glisten in the warm, tropical sunlight on your honeymoon, a reminder that filled his heart to the brim to know that he was yours forever. 

Javi’s new wedding ring was the only jewelry that he had ever pictured himself wearing, until you had mentioned to him in passing while shopping for new clothes for your honeymoon how good he’d look with a chain to go with any of his outfits he had planned for the trip- considering there was no way Javi was going to have no less than 4 buttons undone on his shirt at any given time while basking in the tropical warmth of your honeymoon paradise. 

Later on that week, he had dug around in his dresser to find a thin, golden chain necklace he had back from his time in college, that hadn’t seen the light of day in too many years to count. But, given your enthusiasm for the idea of him wearing something like it, Javi had decided to pack it with him in his suitcase to surprise when the time felt right. 

Well, after being a few drinks deep at the pool bar from earlier, Javi’s slightly tipsy confidence had him feeling like now was the perfect time to try out his new accessory to see what you thought. Digging through his suitcase, he pulled out out the chain to go with the rest of his outfit for your dinner on the beach, clipping the necklace around his neck as he looked himself over in the mirror, quickly fixing his hair and adjusting his shirt, undoing one more button than probably necessary to show off his new look. 

And while he could admit that he didn’t look half bad with it on, and figured you’d like the new surprise addition to his wardrobe, there’d be no way in hell he could have ever prepared himself for the viscerally awestruck reaction you’d have to the thin, gold chain dangling around his neck.  

“I can practically feel you burning a hole through my chest, Hermosa.” Javi chuckled, raising an eyebrow at you as he took another bite of his food, giving you a playful smirk at the way you had been ogling at him ever since you had noticed the thin gold chain resting across his tanned skin as you began your walk through the hotel to head to dinner. 

“Oh shut up, it’s not my fault you’re so hot. You’re making it very hard not to look, in my defense.” You sighed, trying to get yourself to focus on your food instead of staring at Javi for the rest of dinner, despite the fact that the only meal you had your eyes on was sitting across the table from you. “There’s already something about you being my husband that makes you somehow even hotter than you already were, and now with this?” You picked up your fork, gesturing to the chain dangling between the parted fabric of Javi’s shirt, “I think you may be trying to legitimately kill me.” 

“Figured you’d like it. Didn’t think you’d like it this much.” Javi smirked, biting down on his lip before taking another bite of food, his cheeks growing flushed and warm as he looked at you admiring him, wondering how in the hell he had gotten so goddamn lucky. “Thanks, Mrs. Peña.” He laughed, taking another bite of his food, shooting you a quick wink. 

Mrs. Peña. 

God, if that alone wasn’t enough to send you over the edge already, your new last name, combined with the incredibly attractive man you had gotten it from that you now got to call your husband? On top of that stupidly hot chain he had decided to throw on with his outfit? There was definitely something else you were hungry for other than the half cleared plate below you. 

It was then that you couldn’t have been happier you had been seated at a table on the edge of the beachside boardwalk, tucked behind a few stray palm trees, secluded enough out of view that you had no problem reaching under the table to rest your hand on Javi’s knee, toying with the hem of his shorts before letting your fingers creep further and further up his thigh. 

“Are you almost done with your food?” You asked, your voice sweet and sultry as your hand brushing against Javi’s crotch immediately caught his attention, making his eyes go wide as he sat up straight, setting down his knife and fork to look down in his lap. “Because if you are, I can think of something else I want for dessert when we go back to our room. Something I want really bad. You wanna feel how badly I want it?” 

Javi swallowed hard as your fingers wrapped more firmly around his bulge, gently massaging his dick in your grasp, before grabbing his hand and guiding it to brush along the slit of your sundress and closer to your core, aching and dripping with arousal. Letting his fingers creep up the inside of your thighs and ghost over your folds, his eyes went even wider, jaw practically dropping open to feel that you were not only absolutely soaked, but also not wearing any underwear at all. Using every ounce of composure he had to keep from falling apart right then and there at the dinner table, letting out a deep sigh as he cursed under his breath. 

“Jesus fucking Christ. Fuck, baby… Yeah, I can be done right now.” He groaned, nodding at your proposition before wrapping his hand around the meat of your thigh as he took a long inhale, staring you down with darkening eyes and a devilish grin across the table. 

Never had you been more thankful that the resort you had picked to stay at was all inclusive, because if either of you had to wait a minute longer for a server to get your bill so you could get back up to your room, the probability of impending implosion would have been practically inevitable. 

Firmly intertwining your fingers with his as  you grabbed his hand, you were nearly dragging Javi through the hotel to the nearest bay of elevators, pleasantly shocked to find no one else waiting with you to travel up to their room, leaving the two of you alone to catch the next elevator back up to your floor. 

Without a word, the second the elevator doors had closed, the two of you were on top of each other, a messy dance of tongue and teeth crashing together, Javi’s hands palming the meat of your ass over your dress while yours roamed over his chest, tracing the freckles of his tanned skin up to the golden chain dangling in the open buttons of his shirt, stopping to wrap the necklace around your finger, tugging Javi closer to you. 

“Fuck, you look so good with this on, baby.” You moaned, your words hot against Javi’s skin as you nipped at his neck, chain still tangled in your grasp. “I can’t wait to fu-”

Barely aware of the fact that you had reached your floor, the ding of the elevator was enough to catch your attention and cut you off from completing the rest of your thought before the doors slid open, revealing a group of couples waiting for their ride down to the lobby. Frantically trying to play off the fact that if the elevator ride had gone any longer, you two definitely would have been seconds away from fucking in it, you gulped, giving Javi a nudge to his ribs to bring him back to reality, the two of you quickly trying to slide past the other guests without making a scene. 

As the door closed behind you, you and Javi couldn’t help but giggle at the fact that you couldn’t seem to take an elevator trip alone without almost being caught making out like a pair of horny teenagers (which, to be fair, a pair of horny teenagers probably would have had more self control than the two of you being newlyweds on your honeymoon). 

With your room only being a few doors down from the elevator, Javi began fumbling in the pocket of his shorts for his room key, working around the full hard on he already had under the fabric from how pent up he was. Quietly cursing under his breath until he found it, as soon as the card was swiping over the lock of the door, Javi was yanking you through into your room, instantly beginning to pull down the zipper to the back of your dress as you fumbled your way back to the bed. 

Your dress fell to the floor in a crumpled pile before Javi was tossing you onto the mattress, shocked to see that you also hadn’t even bothered to put on a bra, revealing your glowing skin and obnoxious tanlines from your time spent out in the sun. 

“Dirty fucking girl, not wearing anything underneath that dress for me. Fuck me, Hermosa. God, you’re so beautiful. So fucking perfect. My perfect wife.” Javi growled, dropping to his knees at the edge of the bed to part your legs, draping them over his shoulders as he admired the wet mess between your thighs, your slick already coating your folds, glistening in the dim light of your hotel room. “My perfect wife and her perfect fucking pussy already so wet for me. 

Dragging his fingers through your folds, collecting your arousal as he ghosted over your throbbing clit, you let out a soft whimper in protest, sitting up on your elbows to look down at Javi, peppering kisses along the soft skin of your thighs. 

“Javi, fuck- Baby, I wanted to go down on you. You look so good, I-I wanna taste you, Jav, p-please.” You moaned, your argument becoming less and less convincing as his kisses traveled to your center, nose brushing against your aching bundle of nerves before looking up at you with a lustful smirk, tightening his grip around your hips to hold you in place. 

Javi shook his head as he laughed quietly to himself, watching you squirm and buck your hips towards his face, so desperately worked up and aching that the mess between your legs was really beginning to contradict your need to get Javi off before yourself. 

“Cariño…” Javi tutted, almost mockingly, digging his fingertips deeper into the meat of your flesh, “You’re not going anywhere ‘till I get a taste. I can’t leave my poor wife all worked up like this, can I?” 

Before you had a chance to respond, the flat of Javi’s tongue was dragging through your heat in a long, broad stroke, firmly pressing against your clit, looking up at you with a satisfied grin as you threw your head back in pleasure, a soft whimper escaping from your parted lips. As the last of his lick slid through your folds, you shuttered at the feeling of the metal of his chain ghosting over your cunt as it dangled from his neck, only to cry out as you could feel the other piece of jewelry he was wearing on his left ring finger sink deep into your entrance. 

“Oh f-fuck-” You whimpered as another finger breached your tight hole, already sucking him in with your warm, wet walls while his digits curled, bumping against the sweet spot inside you that he knew made you crumble. 

“That’s it, baby girl.” He cooed, thrusting his fingers in and out of your cunt before diving back between your legs like a man starved, his tongue dancing in a swirling pattern of flicks and strokes between your folds as he lapped you up. You could feel yourself rolling your hips against his hand, whining at how thick and full he felt inside you, even more so now with the wedding band that had made its permanent home on his finger, taking every chance he could get to watch you cover the glistening gold ring in your arousal as yet another way to prove that you were his. 

Javi could feel your pussy beginning to flutter around his fingers as your bottom half squirmed against the sheets of the bed, the knot in your stomach beginning to tighten, tingling building at the base of your spine. Latching his lips around your clit, he began to suck at your sensitive nub, his hand thrusting faster and deeper into your cunt, feeling you slowly coming undone under his touch. 

“Oh shit- fuck, fuck, Javi, I’m so close baby, oh fuck, fuck, I’m gonnaaahhhhhh-” Just like that, you were falling over the brink of collapse, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave, pleasure flowing through every inch of your veins as you met your high, feeling the smirk of Javi’s smile pressed against your cunt as you soaked his face, his free hand wrapped around your hip, holding you in place for him. 

“Fuck, I swear, I’ll never fucking get over that.” Javi mewled, pulling back enough to sit on his heels, admiring the wet and puffy mess your pussy had become, gently pulling his fingers out of your heat, looking down at the way your arousal coated his fingers, covering his wedding band. “Fucking soaked me, Hermosa. You like feeling my ring when I touch you like that, baby? Knowing I’m all yours forever?” 

With your chest heaving in heavy breaths, you nodded frantically, blissed out look plastered across your face as you stared up at Javi, lust pooling in the dark brown of his eyes as he brought his soaked fingers to your mouth, tugging at your bottom lip as, opening your mouth for you to suck him clean, the warm and tangy taste of you still fresh on his skin. 

“You taste so fucking sweet, baby. Mi esposa sabes muy dulce.” (My wife tastes so sweet) Javi cooed, gently tugging his fingers out of your mouth, standing up to lean over the bed, caging your body under his as his lips crashed against yours in a needy mess of longing and desperation. 

You could feel how painfully hard he was through the fabric of his shorts, his bulge straining against the seams of his zipper as he rubbed against your thigh, laying on top of you with one arm propped up beside your head, the other gently cupping your face, thumb rubbing back and forth along your cheek as he kissed you with the tender intensity that set your insides ablaze with desire, longing, no, needing to feel him buried deep inside you as you screamed his name. 

It really had been your intention to suck Javi off the moment you had gotten back to your room, to drop to your knees and worship the beautifully handsome man you now got to call your husband and turn him into the same type of moaning, whimpering mess that he had just made you, but with the ferocity of each kiss and the instinctual jerk of Javi’s hips, there was nothing you wanted more than to be filled by the sweet sting of his cock pounding into you, over and over.  

“J-Javi, fuck- I need to feel you baby, please. Fuck, I wanna feel you so deep inside me.” You whispered, your teeth tugging at Javi’s earlobe as he peppered your jaw and neck with kisses, feeling the audible groan in his chest at your request, followed by a deep sigh as he tried to compose himself from the mess he was already becoming. 

“Yeah? That’s what you want, sweet girl? Whatever my wife wants, my wife gets.” He rasped, a devilish grin spread between his cheeks as he sat back to pull his shirt over his head, followed by his shorts and boxers, leaving him in nothing but the gold chain still dangling around his neck as he reached down to stroke his cock, red and dripping with precum before leaning back down to line up with your entrance. 

You could feel your breath hitch as his tip brushed through your folds, rubbing gently against your clit as he collected your arousal to coat his length, looking down to watch as his length sunk deep into your cunt, the both of you letting out ragged moans at the sensation. 

Javi paused for a moment, letting you adjust to the sweet sting of his stretch as he filled you, his tip kissing your cervix while his hips met yours. The fullness made your brain go blank, completely at a loss for words as he began to slowly thrust in and out of you, pulling himself out enough to sink his whole length back into your cunt, each thrust making you whimper and moan, desperate for more. 

“F-fuck, give me more, baby, you feel so good.” You whined, your hand wrapping around his bicep, fingertips digging into his flexing muscles. 

“Yeah? You want more, Hermosa?” Javi mewled, smirking to himself at the blissed out mess you were already becoming as the pace of his hips rutting into you began to quicken. 

As each thrust became faster, the gold chain draped around his neck began to bounce against his chest, his body close enough to yours to feel the cool metal brush against your face with each snap of his hips into yours, the sight of his necklace dangling over you as you stared up at the furrowed and focused look painting his face. The image alone of him wearing that chain was enough to make you feel like you were going to cum on the spot, but as you lay caged beneath the weight of his broad body, feeling nothing but his warm skin and chain rub against you, you were nearly convinced it was going to be over for you right then and there. 

Without even thinking, you lifted your head up off the bed just enough to grab the chain between your teeth, tugging him closer to you, the sudden yank making his eyes go wide in surprise as the two of you came nose to nose, foreheads brushing against each other before his lips were on yours again, entangling you in an all consuming kiss without faltering in his pace. 

“Fuck, you look so good.” You moaned, your lips parting just enough from his to whisper your praises into his ear. “You look so hot with this fucking chain, Jesus Christ.” 

Your comment had a low, breathy laugh escaping from his chest, shaking his head to himself almost in disbelief at how enthralled you were with him. 

“Me? Baby girl, you have no idea.” He cooed, slowing his thrusts to sit back on his haunches, readjusting you to bring your knees pressed to your chest, leaning back down, running his hands along your body, up your arms until he had them above your head, pinned down to the bed in his grasp. “You know how many guys I’ve seen staring at you since we’ve been here? How many dirty fucking looks I’ve had to give them? Maybe this ring on your finger isn’t enough, mi amor.” 

“W-what do you, fuck- what do mean?” You whimpered, the new position opening you up in a way that had you feeling every inch of Javi as he sank his cock even deeper into your cunt, splitting you open in the most delicious way possible, your brain barely working enough to let your words escape from your mouth. 

“I mean,” Javi groaned, tightening his grip to hold you in place, his eyes growing darker with desire with another deep, long thrust into your heat, “That maybe, I need to fuck a baby into, Osita. Fuck a baby into my beautiful fucking wife, and let everyone see that you’re mine with our kid growing inside you.” 

Javi’s words sent a shiver down your spine, the thought alone making you whimper- You and Javi both had undeniable cases of baby fever, and now that you were finally married and had agreed that your birth control wasn’t going to be a part of your packing list, the prospect that in 9 months from now, you could have a third member to your family? That was enough to have you close to finishing right then and there. 

 A gulp traveling down your throat before a long exhale, trying to find the words to respond to his proposition, your voice trembling in an anxious excitement. 

“F-fuck- Oh my god, yes. Fuck a baby into me, Javi. Let me, oh shit- let me make you a daddy.” 

“Jesus Fucking Christ…” Javi groaned, gritting his teeth, trying his best to maintain his own composure, taking a long exhale before his gaze met yours again, a fierce kind of determination and promise pooling in the deep chocolate brown of his eyes, leaning his body on top of yours, pushing your knees closer to your chest, opening you up to an even deeper angle as his mouth crashed into yours, beginning to pick up his pace once again as his hips snapped into yours. “That’s what  you want, Hermosa? Fuck, I’ll give it to you, baby. Oh shit- Whatever my wife wants, my wife gets, remember? You want a baby? Fuck- I’ll fuck myself so deep inside you I’ll fuck a baby into you right now.” 

You could feel the all too familiar tingle beginning to build at the base of your spine once again, Javi’s cock pounding perfectly into your g-spot over and over again, the hairs at the base of his length grinding against your throbbing clit, sending you to the brink of collapse with each thrust in and out of your cunt. 

“Yes, oh my god- yes, I w-want it so bad. P-please, baby, fuck.” You whined, starting to stumble over your words as you could feel your pussy beginning to flutter around his cock, the coil in your core tightening to the point of nearly snapping. 

“Fuck- say it again. Tell me- mierda- tell me how badly you want it.” Javi moaned, his thrusts becoming slopier and more desperate as he could feel himself on the verge of chasing his own high, knowing all too well you were almost hitting yours.  

“I want you to fill me up, Javi. Fuck, fuck, fuck- I want it so bad. I want you to knock me up and give me a baby, please, baby, oh my god- please.” You were all but panting at this point, your legs starting to tremble as your cunt clenched tighter and tighter around Javi’s cock, the overwhelming sensation of his fullness, promise of pregnancy, and that damn chain dangling in your face was enough to finally send you over the edge. “Fuck, Javi, fuck, fuckfuckfuck, I’m so close baby, I’m gonna, oh shit- I’m gonna cu-ahhhhhhh.” 

Those were the last words you were able to muster before you were screaming out Javi’s name as you came, euphoria and ecstasy radiating through every inch of your body, your orgasm crashing through you with so much intensity you could have sworn you were seeing stars. 

Watching you fall apart beneath him, soaking his cock in your arousal as you came had Javi only moments behind you, the rhythm of his hips beginning to stutter, the lewd sounds of your skin slapping against each others combined with your wanton moans and whimpers and curses under your breath making him begin to babble incoherently. 

“That’s it, Osita. That’s my good girl. Fucking soak my cock, baby. Cum all over me before I, fuck me- fuck myself so deep in you it’ll fucking take. Holy fuck- Fuck, I’m gonna cum too. Gonna fucking fill you up. Give you all of me. Fuck, I’ll give you everyting, baby, mierda- everything you’ll ever wa-ahhhhhh” 

With one last final thrust, Javi was spilling deep inside you, warm ropes of his spend coating your walls, milking himself of every single last drop before collapsing on top of you, the warmth and weight and of his body sinking on top of your chest as the two you sighed in sync, trying to catch your breath with long, labored huffs. 

As Javi felt himself begin to soften, a groan rumbled low in his chest while he pulled out, feeling the mix of your spend dripping out your hole, coating the inside of your thighs in glistening juices. You let out an involuntary whimper at the loss of fullness inside you, your head falling back on the mattress in blissed out satisfaction, squeezing your eyes shut, trying to bring yourself back to reality after floating away in post-colotial bliss. 

“Holy fuck…” You whispered to yourself, lifting your head back up to see Javi sitting back on his heels, admiring the mess of the two of you pooling between your legs. 

“So fucking pretty, Hermosa.” He mewled, peppering kisses down the soft skin of your thighs, making his way back towards your core. Before you could even realize what was happening, Javi’s head was back between your legs, one broad stroke of his tongue collecting the tangy, salty mixture leaking out of your cunt and lapping it back into your entrance quickly replacing his mouth with his fingers to push the mixture of your spend even further into you. 

Looking up at you, slick covering his mustache and smug grin spread between his cheeks, Javi curled his fingers just enough to make you yelp as he pressed against your g-spot, considering how worked up and overstimulated you already were. 

“Gotta make sure I keep you full of me, baby. Can’t let anything go to waste.” Javi smirked, gently pulling out his fingers, resting his hands on your thighs, drawing soft circles on your skin with his thumbs. 

You tried to sit back up, propping yourself on your elbows before Javi’s body was caging over you once again, slowly lowering himself down until your back was flat against the bed, cradling your jaw as guided you down with soft, slow kisses, feeling his chain brush against your chin he pulled away from your lips. 

“You’re not going anywhere, Momma. My wife wants a baby? Then I’m doing everything I can to give her one. Whatever she wants.” Javi smirked, pressing a tender kiss onto your forehead as his hand caressed your face, brushing your skin just gently enough to tickle you, a little giggle escaping from your lips as your eyes met his sweet puppy dog ones. 

“You’re ridiculous, you menace.” You laughed, playfully nudging Javi as he rolled over next to you on the side of the bed, wrapping his arm around you, tugging you to lay against his bare chest, your hand draping over his stomach before crawling up his chest, wrapping his gold chain around your fingers. “Hmmmm whatever your wife wants, huh?” You smirked, looking up at him with a mischievous grin. 

“Whatever she wants, Hermosa.”

“Your wife wants you to never take this damn thing off again.” 

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