#chubby pedro rights !!!

[beefrobeefcal]

the BEEF | #1: Joel Miller

Summary: no-outbreak AU, Joel has a headache and that headache wants his attention. [based on a prompt THOT up in collaboration with @strang3lov3]

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader | Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) | Word Count: 3,833

Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, angry fools who want to play hide the sausage, angry joel, shovel violence against a truck, monster cock, age gap (joel is in his 50's, reader is younger), p in the v (unwrapped), rough dresser sex,

Author's Notes: welcome to the BEEF. Each P-boy has a thorn in their side that has to be dealt with. Thank you to @covetyou for inspiring the idea, and thank you @neverwheremoonchild, @strang3lov3, @rebel-held & @bitchesuntitled for their brains and eyes.

and thank you to every friendo in the Bistro - it's all for you, babies.

Joel Miller was your street’s cranky asshole. No one dared throw a party or hold a garage sale without letting him know first. No one dared let their grass get over a certain length and the whole neighbourhood breathed a sigh of relief when he would go out of a town and not see the kids scribble with chalk on the sidewalks in the summer. He never called the cops; no, instead he showed up and berated whoever was hosting an event or engaging in an activity he found offensive. And he was intimidating. He wasn’t the tallest, but he was built like a brick shithouse. You’d lived on the block for almost nine years, and in that time, Joel had gone from being a broad, sturdy single father to a single, empty nester who lived off HungryMan frozen meals. He was a big man with linebacker shoulders and a meaty chest stacked on top of a boulderous belly. His plaid button up shirts always looked like they were holding on for dear life to avoid his temper.

And you were utterly in love with him.

Before the most recent snowfall, you’d been in your room on your bed with the window open a crack to let in some fresh air. Right below your window was Joel’s front porch, and as soon as you heard his door fly open, you grabbed your vibrator and listened.

“Get off my lawn!”, you heard him bellow at who ever had dared to approach his house.

You smiled to yourself and turned on your purple silicon friend and shoved it in your underwear.

As Joel berated the hapless victim of his temper, you nudged yourself closer to the edge. As you did, you cared less about the volume of your cries and let your noises out at top volume. By the time you came, Joel was standing on his porch with his mouth agape, staring at your bedroom window and the offending party walked away with a look of disgust.

*****

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

You watched as your snow shovel slipped out of your hands and hit your Joel’s truck. The one with the vanity plate ‘SM 9000’ that you had no clue what it meant. You could only sit back and watch as it fell and gouged in the paint job on Joel’s 1989 Dodge Ram pickup, your panties grew damp as you heard his front door open and slam against his house.

You turned around, raising your hands, trying to look like you were de-escalating the situation. “Joel, I-“

“The fuck’re you think you’re doin’?!”, he bellowed, stomping towards you.

As he yelled and flew into a tantrum over your shovel’s sins, you couldn’t help the stupid, lovesick half grin blooming on your face.

“… and you ain’t got no respect for no one’s property and…”, he stopped, took a breath, and looked you over, face twisting in a confused rage as he tried to figure out why you were looking at him as if he were a can of tuna and you were a cat watching him being pulled open ever so gently.

“The fuck is wrong with you?!”, he yelled, stepping forward, trying to scare you to no avail. He huffed and stomped his foot, trying to snap you out of whatever trance you were in.

You sighed and tilted your head, loving the attention he was finally bestowing on you, not caring that your reaction was essentially dumping gasoline on a house fire.

“Fuckin’ disrespectful shit…”, he snarled as he grabbed your arm and dragged you towards his house.

“Joel? What’re you doing? Where we going?”, you asked with a big dumb grin on your face then wincing at the harsh grip he had on your elbow. Your boots slipped and skidded on the icy walkway and you tripped heading up the stairs.

“Fuckin’ clumsy dumbass…”, he grumbled, shoving you through his front door and slamming it behind you both.

You looked around his entry way, noting the ugly wallpaper and the stale cigarette smell lingering. You crinkled your nose, and he turned around, his frown deepening into a scowl.

“Boots off!”, he barked, harshly motioning to your feet.

You didn’t miss a beat and toed them off quickly, kicking them into the wall. His jaw clenched as he watched the dirty snow clumps slide slowly down, leaving wet patches on his yellow-turned-brown floral wallpaper.

His eyes snapped up to yours, expecting an apologetic look. Instead, he was met with…

“Why the fuck you lookin’ at me like a love sick puppy?”

Joel was enraged. You didn’t run away or beg for forgiveness. No. You stood in his entry way, kicking your boots and making a mess, looking like he was David Cassidy or Patrick Swayze. You smiled back softly and that was the last straw for him.

“WHAT IN THE FRESH HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

You could have cum right there. Joel Miller was yelling right in your face. You’d gotten off by listening to him lose his shit at anyone trying to fundraiser or collect donations who had dared knock on his door but having a front row seat to a live performance was better than you could have ever imagined.

Joel watched your lips part and your brows twitch as they furrowed and your head tilt back slightly. He heard your breath hitch between his furious growling breaths, and his eyes slid down your parka-clad frame and he swore he saw your thighs clench.

His eyes went wide as he realized the effect he was having on you.

“You fuckin’ dirty little shit…”

The whimper he received in response made his cock twitch in his WalMart Levi’s. He sucked in a harsh breath and swallowed hard. He hadn’t had a woman look at him like that since he went to the strip club with his brother for his bachelor party, and he knew she was looking for a hefty tip. But you – the only thing he could think of is that you were trying to find a way to get out of paying for the damage your shovel caused. There was no waythat you were actually interested in him in that way. No. No woman had wanted to fuck him since before his daughter, Sarah, had been in junior high. He was a fat old asshole and you… you weren’t.

“Joel…”

Your soft voice pulled him back and the frown he carried all but left his face, being replaced with eyebrows to his hairline and his mouth open in confusion and shock.

“Joel, I… I’m sorry about your truck.”

You grabbed the zipper to your parka and pulled down, opening it to reveal your great aunt’s knitted sweater with a loon on it. Joel’s widened eyes swept over you and his brows furrowed.

“The hell you up to?”, he croaked, trying to sound intimidating.

“It’s warm in here”, you respond, tossing your parka on to, but missing completely, the stair banister.

His mind was racing. You actually seemed to be coming on to him as you stepped closer in your mismatched socks. You looked up at him through your lashes while your hands slowly slid up your legging-clad thighs and up to the hem of your sweater. He watched as you pulled it over your head slowly, getting it stuck for a moment, revealing a worn out white t-shirt with a faded image of a marshmallow peep and the slogan ‘Holla At My Peeps!’. He took another step back and you tossed your sweater at him, and he stumbled back, falling onto his recliner.

“Jesus, woman!”, he hollered, ripping your sweater off his head just in time to see you standing above him.

“You know how hot you are?”, you asked, leaning forward over him.

He froze. He must be dead. Or asleep. Or maybe he slipped when he stormed out the door to yell at you and hit his head. Or maybe he was drunk. Maybe he took a NyQuil tablet instead of the Omega 3-6-9 fish oil pills.

“The hell is wrong with you?”, he sputtered out, looking at you wide-eyed.

You didn’t answer. You only leaned forward, nudging your nose against his and letting out a breathy giggle. He tried to speak again, but his words got lost in the high pitch grunt he let out when your knee came up and nestled in between his thighs, pushing against the considerable bulge that had developed.

His hand involuntarily gripped your wrist that was supported on his arm rest, and he sucked in a deep breath.

“I know exactly what you need, Joel Miller.”, you cooed, tongue jutting out and licking your teeth, trying to sound seductive. “You need a good fuck.”

His mouth hung open in shock. You grinned wildly and kissed the tip of his nose before nipping at his bottom lip and tugging it between your teeth.

Joel let out a groan and closed his eyes, the hand on your wrist moving to your t-shirt’s hem and slipped underneath it. You nudged your knee against his crotch again and kissed him, tasting no-name waffles and burnt coffee.

The kiss seemed to break something in Joel. This wasn’t a dream, or an antihistamine induced hallucination or a concussion - this was real. You, his hot, young, stupid neighbour was crawling onto his lap and shoving your tongue down his throat.

He grunted lowly and pushed you back, looking up at you with dark eyes. You tried moving forward again, but his hand held you back.

A whine emanated from your throat, and he shook his head. “I’m not fucking you-“

You scoffed and he shushed you.

“Oh, hush and lemme finish, you loony shit!”, he huffed. “I was sayin’ that I'm not gonna fuck you in this chair; it barely holds my weight and if you’re gonna be bouncin’ on me, this fuckin’ thing’ll screw the pooch.”

You shrugged your shoulders, irritated. “Okay, fine. Then where?”

“My bed, you nimrod!”, he snapped with a scowl, then grinned. “Got a nice mattress with good lumbar support.”

*****

You had followed Joel to his room and were pleasantly… let down. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but the beige walls and the picture of a horse above his non-exciting bed were not what you had thought he would have. What surprised you was the essential oil diffuser plugged in on his bedside table, giving the air a fresh lavender smell.

The fact that the rest of his house looked like a rejected concept for an early nineties sitcom and his bedroom looked like a bed and breakfast that had no theme, for some reason, made you want him more. This man and his lack of consistency. You needed him in you now.

Grabbing his arm and turning him around, you pulled him into a desperate kiss; teeth and tongues, fighting for real estate in each other’s mouths.

“Get naked, sugar.”, he grunted as he broke the kiss with a lopsided grin. He unsnapped his shirt, revealing a grey, stained undershirt, its ribbing pulled tight and stretched over his belly while his mouth and surrounding patchy facial hair glistened with your saliva.

While he wasn’t being that polite, he wasn’t being mean. That was a problem. Even with how mundane he’d revealed himself to be, it wasn’t enough. The residual dampness that made your panties stick to your core was a result of him yelling at you out front, and that goodwill your pussy had shown was slowly drying up.

Joel’s hands began to make quick work of his belt and stretch denim jeans, but he noticed you not moving to do the same.

His hand flapped at you in an urging motion, “Make with the no clothes. Can’t fuck you with them on.”

His eyes narrowed as he noted your lack of movement, and he paused. You began to see signs that Joel was getting mad, and your mind flipped through every situation you’d witnessed him lose his shit in.  What was it that would set him off quick? You weren’t about to throw a block party in his room, nor were you a religious group knocking at his door early on a Saturday. Then it clicked.

A devious grin broke out slowly on your face as you sat on his Temperpedic mattress and crossed your arms.

“Make me.”

“You indignant little shit…”, he growled, clenching his fist.

A flutter in your lower belly. More.

“Come on. Make me.”

“You fuckin’ tease… Fuck you!” His eyes were filling with fire.

An almost painful need bloomed in your core. More!

“Fuck me yourself, coward.”

He sputtered and guffawed, eyes wide in rage.

“You fuckin’ shit! Bangin’ up my truck and actin’ like a needy Jezabel just to fuckin’ tease me like this!”

You could have cum right there, between the iron grip on your wrist and his loud belittling.

You couldn’t stop the giggle that erupted, and he snarled. He grabbed your hand and yanked you up off the bed. You truly thought his back was bad enough that the effort of getting you up alone would be too much, but he shoved you against his dresser, then slamming his weight into your back. You whined, feeling your pussy clenching on nothing.

“You’re such a shit!”, he grunted, grabbing your elasticized waistband, and yanking your leggings and panties down on one side while your hand went to the other; the two of you awkwardly working towards removing your barrier.

When they were low enough on your legs to step out of, you clumsily did so, then tried to turn around to help Joel. He wasn’t fast enough, swearing under his breath as your hands lifted his belly to access his strained button fly. His mouth was on your neck, sucking and biting like a dog on a window while a steak was being grilled just on the other side.

You pushed his jeans down around his hips and they pooled around his ankles. He kicked them off and bit down on the crux of your neck and shoulder as your hand cupped and felt up his hard cock.

Jesus. Oh fuck.

Joel was hung. Like unreasonably so. You’d had your fair share of men slamming their pork steeples into your wet cunt, but none of them could even hold a candle to the monstrosity that sat heavy and covered in satin in your hand. You planted your hand on his chest and pushed him back, needing to get a peek at what Joel was packing. You immediately looked down, seeing the Wile E. Coyote faux-satin boxers protruding out in an impressive, and frankly intimidating, bulge.

“Oh shit...”, you breathed out, contemplating on whether you truly needed to do any serious sitting for the next week, or if you could maybe just get away with laying down at work.

His hand snapped to your jaw, forcing you to look him in the eye, and he gave you a dark smile, “Showed up to a gun fight with a knife, sugar?”

You didn’t have time to respond because Joel shoved his hand between your legs and harshly began rubbing your clit.

Your eyes fluttered and rolled back. Joel watched, an approving sneer on his face.

“’S fucked up … you like this?”

“uh…. Uh-huh…”

“You’re a lunatic…”

You smiled lazily. “You’re fingering a lunatic… w-what’s that say about you?”

He paused then huffed out, “That I’m fingering a lunatic, you moron.”

You let out a throaty laugh that bleeds into a moan as Joel shoves two thick fingers into your hole, slowly dragging them out before plunging them back in.

“You’re a sick little shit… you seducin’ and teasin’ an old man, an’gettin’ me all wound up… Neighbourhood headache… that’s you. Fuckin’ shit up and walkin’ away with a smile on her dumb face.”

“’M close… don’t…. don’t stop…”

His fingers kept the slow languid pace going as he leaned in and harshly whispered, “Unlike you, sugar, I don’t like to leave people disappointed.”

His eyes never left you, watching your every move. Every involuntary twitch and shudder, every flutter of your eyelids and breath leave your parted lips. He could feel it around his fingers and see it on your face that you were feeling everything intensely and now that he had you like this, he wasn’t going to let you go without making sure you weren’t going to pull this shit again.

Joel was many things, but a man who could let things go was not one of them. He was tired of hearing you cream and cry on whatever silicon thing you were shoving into yourself through your bedroom window as he lost his shit on someone; tired of seeing you make eyes at him while you sat in your front yard as he grumbled at a neighbour for the state of their lawn. He was still furious at you for once letting your hand - your soft, sweet, tender hand - linger on his when handing him his mail that was accidentally delivered to your home, forcing him to sit in his shitty recliner and try to finish with his calloused, rough, and hard hand. He never came.

You were going to pay for that. He’d promised himself that for almost five years and now here you were, on your way to being a muppet with how his hand played in your pussy. Joel’s time had come.

You came, moaning, on his hand as he watched, his fingers still moving in and out of you, and his thumb took up the task of tending to your twitching clit. Your face twisted and you cried out, trying to push his hand away.

Your tongue felt thick in your mouth and a moan seeped out. As you rode the wave, he yanked his hand out and grabbed your arm, throwing you onto the bed.

“Goddammit, you’re such a pretty shit.”, he grumbled, reaching for your ankle, and tugging your ass to the edge of the bed. You tried sitting up on your elbows, but he shoved you back down with his body weight.

His weight. Good god, he felt heavier and better than you ever thought he could as he pressed you down into the mattress.

But he got up off you, trying to wrangle your ankles and pull your exposed pussy to just the right spot to save his back from being strained. You tried sitting up again, wanting to have some sort of control over the situation, but Joel growled and grabbed your hips, and, in an impressive feat, flipped you onto your front all while grumbling about what a pain in the ass you were.

“Can’t even fuckin’ be considerate enough to stay put…”

You heard him spit then grunt, figuring he was priming that fucking meat wagon between his legs, and you let out an impatient huff.

“Knock that shit off!”, he snapped, flicking you on your ass cheek. “You just came, nimrod. You can fuckin’ wait!”

“Yeah… but I wanna cum again!”, you whined out with a smile, trying to not laugh at how irritated he was with you.

“I bet you do… but you’re on my time, and I am a patient man, sugar.”, he crooned lowly, snaking his hand up your back and to your hip. You squirmed a bit, but his hold kept you planted in place, and his other hand held his cock as he nudged it against your opening.

The smile on your face dropped as his huge member pushed in; your mouth opened, and out came a gasp followed by a choked moan.

“That’s it… Jesus Murphy…  not even fuckin’ your throat and I got you to shut your mouth…”

Yes, you knew Joel was huge. But it was just an abstract concept up until that moment. Now that he was shoving his massive dick into you, you felt like the universe’s mysteries were now clearly laid out. You knew what religion was right, who shot JFK, how they made the moon landing look real…

Nothing in life would ever surprise you again because you were being split open by this grumpy, fat man. You were being ruined by Joel Miller.

He grunted as he pulled back and then slammed into you.

“Tight little snatch, sugar… takin’ me like a champ.”

You couldn’t respond. Your brain had melted and left your skull empty, and you were unable to do anything but breathe loudly and moan, “S’too big… too big…”

Joel snickered and grunted, snapping his hips and shoving himself deep. You wriggled and squirmed, simultaneously needing him stop and to fuck you harder. Your head began to feel faint, and your core squeezed him, forcing a groan out of him.

He began to snap his hips faster, panting and grunting like the fat kid in gym class being forced to run a mile. You whined and squirmed, trying to get your knees under your body to be able to push back against him, to get him deeper, but he grabbed your calf and bit your leg right above your sock with a growl then groaned, “Stay… stay put… don’t move… jus’lemme… lemme finish…”

You let out a yelp than melted into a moan, throwing yourself into another orgasm. Joel’s thrusts became hurried and more erratic. The high-pitched whine that ripped out of Joel sounded like a dog begging for table scraps as he shot his load into you.

He collapsed onto your back, both of you panting. After what felt like hours but in reality, was only about 30 seconds, Joel had gone quiet. You nudged him, hoping to god he didn’t die from a pussy-induced heart attack. He grunted and struggled to push himself up off you, then flopped on the bed next to you. You rolled over onto your back and looked at him. His cheeks were flushed, and his brows furrowed; his wispy salt and pepper hair stuck to his forehead and his eyes were closed. He was still breathing heavily through his mouth. You smiled, feeling a fulfillment you hadn’t since you’d convinced your parents that it was your sister who broke the CD-ROM drive in the family computer even though it was really you. Cuddling into his, your fingers drew heart shapes in his sweat coated chest hair.

Now that he’d fucked you, you wanted to clear the air as it were, and make sure he wasn’t going to make you pay for any damage to his truck. “So…”

Joel grunted in response, one eye opening and looking at you.

“I was just wondering… what’s your licence plate mean?”

He sighed and closed his eye again. He said the meaning quietly and at first you weren’t sure you heard him right.

“What?”

His cheeks flushed a little harder and he rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a huff.

“ShagMaster 9000.”

TAGLIST: @theywhowriteandknowthings @toxicanonymity @harriedandharassed @neverwheremoonchild @rebel-held @beee-haw @nevergoingbacknowshine @idolatrybarbie @v4vayha @lalocitos @xdaddysprincessxx @deathsholywaterr @heareball @lyssramscal @wintrwinchestr @nerdieforpedro  @southernbe @starkeydaviss @noxturnalpascal @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog@vabeachazn @clawdee @iamasaddie @jennaispunk @tightjeansjavi @rubyfruitjungle @lilmizmoz @strang3lov3 @pedroshotwifey @harryleatherfit @bitchesuntitled

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #chubby!joel miller #chubby!joel #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #chubby joe #chubby pedro rights !!! #chubby pedro pascal #fat belly #pedro pascal tummy nation #beefro's bistro #beefro is sweating #you asked beefro answered #🥩 #the BEEF

[noxturnalpascal]

My 2023 Fanfic-Wrapped

I only really started reading Pedro fanfic in April or May, I got started on some of the well-known fics on AO3 that were recommended on tiktok. However, one of them brought me to tumblr (because I wanted to see more from this author, I wanted to see their moodboards and their sneak peeks). And I haven’t left since.

I even decided to try my hand at writing as well. It’s been a LOT of fun. (My masterlist is here if you want to see all the weird shit I wrote so far). Thank you to everyone who has supported me in all my efforts and to all the friends I've made.

I wanted to create this list to highlight some of my faves this year. If you haven’t read these, they all come highly recommended by me.

I'll be reblogging everything on this list throughout the day. If you’d like to reblog this post and add some of your own favorites from this year - PLEASE DO!!!  I would absolutely love to get new recs!! Let’s share the love!!

In no particular Order - Here are some of my favorites from the year!

Fave Writers (I’ll read anything they write)

@toxicanonymity (joel miller masterlist) Personal Faves: NightWalks!Joel, Vamp!Joel (both Ongoing)

@theywhowriteandknowthings (masterlist) Personal Faves: Creep - Joel, Princess and the Duke - Dave York (Ongoing)

@chloeangelic (masterlist) Personal Faves: Love Me Back - Joel, Seeking What is Desirable - Joel (Ongoing)

@goodwithcheese (masterlist) Personal Faves: The Layover - Frankie, Paranoid Heart - Javi P (Ongoing)

@beskarandblasters (masterlist) Personal Faves: Me and My Husband - Din Djarin, New York or Nowhere - Bodega!Joel (Ongoing)

@absurdthirst (masterlist) Personal Faves: Kinktober 2023 Oct 15th - LactationKink!Dieter, A Marriage of Convenience - Regency!PeroTovar, (they have SO many good ones)

Fave Ongoing Series

Mall Rats (Jackson-era!Joel) by @strang3lov3

Oh! Honey (Monster!Joel x Mortician!Reader) by @lincolndjarin

Hard to be Soft, Tough to be Tender (Pimp!Joel) by @iamasaddie

On the Waterfront (Chubby!Mafia!Frankie) by @beefrobeefcal

The King’s Queen (Royalty/ArrangedMarriageAU!Javi G) by @wardenparker

From Eden (PlantShopOwner!Joel x Married!F!Reader) by @5oh5

A Lover’s Pinch (Professor!Joel x Student!Reader) by @hier--soir

Into the Beat of the Night (Bi!Frankie x afab!gn!OC) by @perotovar

Fave Finished Series

A Stranger’s Heart Without a Home (Jackson-era Joel) by @morning-star-joy (This is the one that brought me to tumblr. Doni created this beautiful story and it has a very special place in my heart.)

Late Night Texts (Post-Colombia Javier Peña) by @undercoverpena

Someone’s Wife in the Boat of Someone’s Husband (Married!No-Outbreak!Joel) by @netherfeildren

Something New (SexWorker!Frankie) by @prolix-yuy

Something Wretched About This (DrugDealer!Joel) by @covetyou

Pioneer Frankie (A series of stories about Pioneer!AU!Frankie) by @frannyzooey

Trial & Error (No-Outbreak!Joel helps Tommy & reader get pregnant) by @thetriumphantpanda

Pleased to Meet You (Meeting Francisco Morales - twice) by @intheorangebedroom

Fave Characters

Husband's Best Friend Joel Miller (with Married! Reader) (HBF!Joel) by @gracieispunk

Jackson-Era Vampire! Joel Miller (A Secret Worth Keeping) by @multiversed-daydreamer

Soccer-dad No-Outbreak Joel Miller gets a racy text from an unknown number (The Right Wrong Number) by @proxima-writes

Demon! Ezra (with Witch! Reader) (In Every Lifetime) by @xdaddysprincessxx

Protective Jackson-Era Joel Miller (A Safe Haven) by @joelsgreys

THROUPLE Frankie x Joel x F!Reader (Catalyst Masterlist) by @ezrasbirdie

Sleezy Gas Station Joel *MC* Miller (Meet Me in the Back) by @atticrissfinch

Porn Star Joel Miller (with Porn Star Reader) (I Know it When I See it) by @bageldaddy

Fave Dark/DDDNE Fics (These fics aren’t being put in the corner but they do come with some very special warnings so I wanted to separate them)

Trick or Treat? (DDDNE Dark!Frankie Morales x Dark!Joel Miller x Dark!Dave York x F!Reader) by @morallyinept

Bullet For You, Darlin’ (DDDNE Dark!Raider!Joel Miller) by @kewwrites

Online Friends (Cherry Bomb) (Dom!Joel, online/phone sex) by @walkintotheriveranddisappear

Blessed Be the Fruit (Dark!DubCon! Joel Miller - Handmaid’s Tale AU) by @romana-after-dark

Red Light (Dark!Obsessive!DubCon! Landlord Joel Miller) by @kiwisbell

The Burglary (DDDNE burglar!Joel Miller x f!reader x burglar!Tommy Miller) by @milla-frenchy and @aurorawritestoescape

I don't know man.... I just know I like it

Menuet (It’s an animal/shapeshifter/monster fucking thing (Pero Tovar) that fundamentally changed who I am as a person) by @psychedelic-ink

Liquid Gold (Joel - and Tommy? - help Pregnant!Reader out when an issue arises) by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Get a Grip (Watch Model!Joel Miller x Manicurist!Reader Hand/GloveKink!) by @bonezone44

Mother Who Provides (Mommy!Kink Joel gets breastfed) by @pedge-page

Goodbye 2023, See you all next year!!!!

#fanfic wrapped #noxturnalpascal #pedro pascal characters #joel miller fanfiction #frankie morales fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction

[willowsages-blog]

Pumpkin: Pedro Pascal x female reader

You and Pedro try to help your daughter find a Halloween costume.

WARNINGS: none just plain fluff and trying to help your daughter find a Halloween costume.

"Okay. 1, 2, 3, … come show daddy!"

Your 3-year-old, Lyla, comes barreling from around the corner, in her miniature pumpkin costume. She stops in front of where Pedro is seated on the couch, twirling around to hear his approval.

It was only October 3rd, but Halloween has always been a massive deal in the household, even more so with the arrival of your eldest daughter.

What once consisted of cheesy couple costumes and going out with friends has turned into cheesy family costumes and trick-or-treating.

You personally were beyond excited for this year, seeing how Lyla was finally old enough to understand how Halloween works.

Your husband finally uncovers his eyes and coos at the sight of his daughter.

He leans down to pick her up, both laughing from the happiness of being in each other's presence. It was no secret to anyone that Lyla was a huge Daddy's girl,

only wanting to be around her father from the minute she was born. It was no different on Pedro's side, having wrapped him around her chubby, miniature finger the moment he looked into her wide, hazel eyes.

The two are inseparable, and while jealousy might creep in from time to time, you're still undeniably grateful that Pedro is as overwhelmingly devoted to Lyla as he is.

“You two are so cute!" You melt, watching the two mess around.

"So cute, Mommy!" Lyla confirms, giggling at the raspberries Pedro is blowing onto her cheeks. Pedro reaches out for your waist, pulling you to join them on the couch.

"What do you think, Lyla? Do you like this one?" You ask, watching as she tilts her head in thought. She's always been annoyingly independent for her age, so this year,

you allowed her full control of picking her costume. You bought a ton and figured you could always just return the rejects. So far, she's on costume 6 out of 10, and you're just praying she makes a decision soon, so you don't have to make another trip to the Halloween store. Unfortunately, she shakes her head no and hops out of both your laps.

"Why not, bug? I thought you wanted to be a pumpkin like Charlie Brown." Pedro asks gently, hoping to sway his daughter into making a decision. He had given up his Saturday to watch his daughter play dress up, and while there wasn't much that he wouldn't do for Lyla, he was more than ready to move on with the day.

"No, Daddy. I want to be a ghost-like Charlie Brown." Lyla corrects, rolling her eyes like she couldn't believe her father's mistake. Pedro swears she picked up that habit from you.

"But you didn't like the ghost costume either," Pedro whines, growing frustrated with the toddler's indecisiveness. He loves his daughter endlessly, but three hours of costume-picking is enough to irritate anyone.

"Okay, Lyla. Why don't you go to your room and put on the next costume? It's the Tiana one, remember!" You suggest softly. Lyla perks up at the mention of her favorite princess and runs back into her room, leaving you and Pedro alone. You settle into his side, twisting his wedding band out of habit.

"You know she gets that from you, right?" He says. You snort, turning to look at him.

"That's funny because she's your shadow. If anything, she's all you." He laughs at your response, pulling you so you're even closer to him. You both look at each other for a moment, before he lets out a breath of air.

"Is it crazy that I want another one?" He asks softly. You pause, not saying anything to interrupt wherever your husband's mind is headed. "Like, I love the three of us, but what if we could do it again? You know the diapers, the first words, first steps, arguing with them over their own Halloween costume?" He gestures around him at that.

Your heart swells. Admittedly, you had been thinking about having another baby now that Lyla is starting to get older. You've started missing having a newborn in the house but were unsure how to bring it up to your husband, worried that he might reject you. However, you should've suspected that Pedro "I want a football team of children" would be itching to have another kid soon.

"Do you really want this?" You ask, making sure this isn't a whim before you tell him what you think.

"Well, I mean, really, it's up to you. But yeah, it would be nice to have another mini-running around here. Plus, Lyla would love to have a friend." He offers, already placing his hand over your stomach.

"I have always wanted a boy." You must, already picture future siblings and matching Halloween costumes. Pedro brightens at this, pulling you into a hug with small tears forming in his eyes. He pulls away to slightly wipe his eyes before he hears the tiny pitter-patter of feet coming down the hallway.

"What's wrong, daddy?" Lyla questions, concern written all over her tiny face from seeing her father's tears. She walks towards Pedro in a green, sparkly dress with a plush frog under her arms, reaching up for him to pull her into his lap.

"Nothing bug, just happy I have everything I've ever wanted." He admits, pulling Lyla up to join your two's huddle. And with the two loves of your life in your arms, you agree.

#fanfic #character x reader #oneshot #multi fandom blog #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal fic

[egcdeath]

okay but imagine frankie stressing out about taking his little girl to the father daughter dance and the reader has to calm him down and assure him he’s gonna do great.

pairing: frankie morales x reader

summary: frankie has some concerns before his first father-daughter dance.

word count: 1.2k

warnings: insecurities about parenting, very light angst, mostly fluff, hurt/comfort, lightly edited

author's note: frankie my beloved!!! i can't believe i didn’t write for him sooner. i'm also taking drabble requests for all pedro characters right now! just drop it in my inbox and i'll try to crank something out :-)

“Say cheese!” you directed, grinning as your daughter flashed her newly grown-in teeth and clung onto her father’s black dress slacks. Frankie looked just as pleased as he squatted down next to your ecstatic daughter, her excited energy clearly infectiously spreading to her parents. 

“You guys are just precious,” you gushed before lowering your camera, pleased with the boatload of pictures you’d taken of your two favorite people in the world. “You ready to go, conejita?” you asked, approaching your daughter and lowering yourself to her level.

“Yes!” she squealed, her little chubby cheeks rising as she beamed once more. “We’re gonna have so much fun, right, daddy?”

“Of course we are,” he agreed, his soft voice fully equipped as he seemed to fall under the spell of his adorable daughter.

“I’ll race you to the car?” she asked, although she was already taking off out the door with zero regard for her dress, or anything for that matter. 

Frankie looked at you and raised his brows as if to ask if he should’ve been chasing her, and you gave him a noncommittal shrug. “It’s her new thing,” you explained, walking at a far more casual pace as the two of you headed outside. “And she prefers to win.”

“Good to know,” he chuckled softly. “You know, I do want to be home more often to do this kind of thing. I want to know what her new interests and little quirks are,” Frankie’s face seemed to fall the slightest bit as you turned to look at him, a small frown now on his face.

“I know you do,” you said understandingly, despite the fact that more often than not, you didn’t understand. His missions were often very hush-hush–even for you–but what you did know was that there was often a lot of money involved. Enough money to allow your husband to become a stay-at-home father, and to send your daughter to college several times over. Yet, despite his growing joint pain and his desire to be with his family, he was often sent on many months-long excursions that ended with him being mentally absent for days, and waking you up in the middle of the night from squeezing you so hard that you thought you might burst. “But this mission is your last one, right?”

“It should be,” he shrugged, stepping out into the garage with you. While you tried to have hope, you could think of multiple occasions where Frankie was told that a mission would be his last, but that ended up not being the case.

“Then you’ll be back with us soon permanently,” you assured him, “More father-daughter dances, more playdates at the park, hugs and kisses from us whenever you need them… Just try to look forward to that. I know I am.” 

You were doing your best to reassure him, but in the process you were also attempting to reassure yourself. It obviously was not your preference to have your partner and the father of your child gone so frequently, but it also wasn’t up to you. That much was clear. 

“I will,” he said, his frown dissipating once he laid eyes on his daughter once more, who was standing outside of the car door with a very self-satisfied grin on her face. 

“I won!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms up in the air in celebration. “You’re too slow, daddy,” she giggled.

Frankie wasted no time walking over to her and scooping her into his arms, pressing a big kiss onto her cheek with all the love in the world. As you watched, your heart melted, particularly as your daughter happily scrunched her face up at the affection. You yearned for more of this, to be able to wake up every day and be able to bask in the love that came from the two people across from you. 

“I’m too old now. I’m such a slowpoke,” he said dramatically, making your daughter laugh as he moved to get her settled in the back seat of the car. “We’ll have to do a do-over race at some point.”

“I’ll still win,” she said confidently, causing you to laugh where you were standing by the door. After strapping in your daughter and closing the back door, you were sure that the conversation between you and Frankie was over. He was off to have a fun, well deserved night with your kid, and you had a bottle of pinot noir and a trashy romcom calling your name. 

Yet, before you turned to go back inside, Frankie reached out and grabbed your arm. 

“Everything okay?” you asked, concern written all over you. His previous behavior around his daughter compared to the look he was giving you right then were night and day–his shoulders tense and his worry lines making an appearance as he gulped.

“Yeah, I’m just… I want to make sure that she has the best night possible. We just see each other so little now that I want to be sure that the memories she does have of me are good ones,” he confessed.

“It will be a good one,” you assured him. 

“I-” he seemed to stop himself before he said something else. “I’m a terrible dancer.”

For some reason, you were getting the feeling that his worries weren’t just related to his dancing skills. Frankie had shared his insecurities with you over his parenting a number of times before–his concerns that he was going to end up not knowing anything at all about his own child, his fears that she would grow up resenting him for his absence, and his biggest fear that she one day might even forget that he was her father in the first place. It made sense that something like a father-daughter dance would bring out some of that insecurity in him. 

You pulled Frankie into a hug, knowing that he was never all that great with sharing his feelings, but a bit of physical contact always seemed to help him a bit. You swore you could feel his shoulders relax as you embraced him, swaying him ever so slightly. 

“Baby, you are not a bad dancer. And even if you were the most awful, terrible dancer in this world, all she’s gonna remember is how fun of a night she had with her daddy,” you attempted to comfort Frankie with your sincerity. “You should hear how she talks about you when you’re gone. The amount of times she’s retold me the story of your trip to the conservatory, or about the time you two went to the aquarium together? I promise, all the little details don’t matter. What matters is that she loves you, and she loves getting to spend any time with you.”

The assurance from you that your daughter didn’t think of him in the same way that he seemed to think about himself seemingly did the trick, giving Frankie all that he needed to gently pull away from you. 

“Thank you,” he said earnestly, pecking your lips before looking at you with an almost watery expression. 

“Of course. I’ll always be here for you,” you replied with just as much sincerity. “Now, you should probably get going before she starts complaining about you being a slug and taking so long.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” Frankie agreed, fully pulling himself away from you and turning himself towards the door once more. 

“Love you guys,” you called as you began to walk towards the house door. “Make some fun memories tonight, okay?”

The grins and waves you received as the two began to back out of the garage told you more than any verbal answer ever could’ve.

They absolutely would.

#frankie morales x reader #frankie 'catfish' morales x reader #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x f!reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

[beefros-sin-bin]

Welcome to •my fic recs• blog! Got a fic to rec? Send it to me!

Currently only Pedro Pascal Character fics.

[In order of their initial recommendation]

The Fox and The Viper by @theywhowriteandknowthings Oberyn Martell x OFC

Hazy Days by @theywhowriteandknowthings Din Djarin x F!Reader

Douchbag!Frankie by @gracieispunk Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

The Run by @magpiepills Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x Santiago 'Pope' Garcia x F!Reader

SNAFU by @theywhowriteandknowthings Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

sing fever to the form by @thelightsandtheroses Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

Breaking the Rules by @theywhowriteandknowthings DBF!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Entergalactic by @harryleatherfit Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

Cookout by @harryleatherfit Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

Upper East Side by @harryleatherfit Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

I’ll Know It When I See It by @bageldaddy Pornstar!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Desperation by @theywhowriteandknowthings Dave York x F!Reader

Whole by @theywhowriteandknowthings Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x Santiago 'Pope' Garcia x F!Reader

Popular by @harryleatherfit Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x Santiago 'Pope' Garcia x F!Reader

Where Were You on Outbreak Day? by @theywhowriteandknowthings Joel Miller x F!Reader

The Pilot & His Girl by @avastrasposts Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

Seven Minutes in Heaven by @tieronecrush Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

relief by @pedropascalsx Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

Precious Possessions by @exquisiteserotonin Dave York x F!Reader

Creep by @theywhowriteandknowthings Joel Miller x F!Reader

Pause by @talaok Javier Pena x F!Reader

Night Walks Series by @toxicanonymity Joel Miller x F!Reader

Haunted by @theywhowriteandknowthings Joel Miller x F!Reader x Tommy Miller

Shore Leave by @theywhowriteandknowthings Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x Santiago 'Pope' Garcia x F!Reader

Another Chubby Subby Joel Imagine by @neverwheremoonchild Joel Miller x F!Reader

Rendezvous in Reno by @theywhowriteandknowthings Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

But Baby It's Art by @magpiepills Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Your Summer Dream by @swiftispunk Joel Miller x F!Reader

All Over You by @theywhowriteandknowthings Javier Pena x F!Reader

Blood Money by @theywhowriteandknowthings Dave York x Max Phillips x F!Reader

Odd Couple by @idolatrybarbie Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

Hurts So Good by @theywhowriteandknowthings Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

Taungsdays, Am I Right? by @theywhowriteandknowthings Din Djarin x F!Reader

It's Too Early For This... by @trulybetty Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

Pleasure Principle by @nerdieforpedro Dave York x F!Reader

VS by @strang3lov3 Joel Miller x F!Reader

Mystery Strain by @rebel-held Dieter Bravo & GN!Reader

One Day at a Time by @rebel-held Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

The Princess & the Duke by @theywhowriteandknowthings Dave York x F!Reader

Worth the Weight by @gwendibleywrites Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Slasher Joel by @toxicanonymity Joel Miller x F!Reader

Send in the Clown by @covetyou Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Catch Me If You Can by @theywhowriteandknowthings Din Djarin x F!Reader

Table for Two by @hellishjoel Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x reader #beefro recommended #join me in sin

[heretohelptheidiots]

Hi! I love all of your Encanto work! Could I please request Luisa x fem Reader as moms to an adopted baby that is theirs and how the family/ town interact with the kid? If you answer this thank you so much!!! <3

I love it!

You had wandered to the spot where Luisa’s grandfather had been killed, no real intent in mind. You were married, things were going well. You both had, in your own way, expressed some longing for children of your own. Dolores’s second child had added fuel to that particular fire. You sighed, adoption was the only way that was going to happen, but no tragedy taking parents from a child had occurred. You felt a little sick that you were lamenting that, but the desire for a little one to love and raise was strong. You came to the edge of tree line, blinking as you looked at the water.

“A basket?” You asked the surrounding foliage, you walked closer. “One of Pepa’s storms must have blown it out here.” You murmured. “It’s only right to collect it and try to find the owner. Oddly large basket too.” A single golden butterfly rested on its handle before alighting inside. You froze as a giggle came from the basket. “Pedro?” You inquired to the air before walking to where the basket floated. Inside was an infant, the butterfly resting on its nose. You stood in shock for a moment, before scooping the basket from the water.

You put the basket on the ground and gently lifted the baby out. It grabbed at your nose with a chubby hand. You brought it close, looking around for any indication of other people. You couldn’t see any foot prints or sign that anyone had been there. The butterfly rested on top of the child’s head as you hooked the basket over one elbow and cradled the baby to your chest, you could look for it’s parents later, now you needed to get it somewhere safe. You rushed back to Casita, breathing hard as you came to the doors.

“Julieta! Luisa! Abuela!” You panted, entering the court yard in a rush. Julieta was the first to arrive from the kitchen, Luisa entered from the other side, and Abuela appeared on the balcony.

“What in heaven’s name! A baby?” Julieta asked rushing forward.

“The basket. In the. River. Like Moses.” You managed to get out as you were pulled into the kitchen. Julieta took the baby and began to check it over. Luisa pulled a chair out and set it behind your knees. You sat down with a sigh, glad to have a moment to catch your breath. Abuela walked into the kitchen, and the butterfly flew to her shoulder.

“Oh Pedro.” She whispered.

“That’s. What I. Said.” You struggled to get your breathing under control.

“What river? What happened to its family?” Luisa asked, dropping to her knees beside you.

“The one just outside the valley. Where your grandfather died. I don’t know why I was there, I just feel like I needed to. And then I saw the basket. I didn’t see any body around. I figured we could look once the baby was safe.” You said, she took your hand, the flickering of a hope against all hope in her eyes.

“He’s in excellent health for a child who apparently was at very least left, and at worst took a ride down the river.” Julieta said, bouncing the infant slightly. He reached for you, rather vehemently, and you jumped up to catch him. Luisa brushed a single finger along his head as the butterfly landed on her hand.

“We should take care of him. At least until we can find his family.” She murmured, absolutely entranced.

“Absolutely. I will have a search party arranged. In the meantime, we have to have an old cradle to put in your room.” Abuela said decisively, she left calling for Felix, Mariano, Isabela, and Pepa. Mirabel found and painted an old crib, working fast so it would be dry by the time night came.

“What are you going to name him?” She asked, letting him hold her fingers.

“It’s a bit soon, Mira. We might find his parents.” Luisa said, holding him against her chest.

“Luisa’s right, he might not be here long.” You agreed. Days turned to weeks. And no sign of where he had come from could be found. Julieta had taken to preparing formula for the baby. You had both been hesitant to give him the name you wanted, but finally you asked Abuela’s permission to name him Pedro.

“Yes. With all my heart, yes.” She whispered, tears in her eyes, as she held him.

“Here we go!” Bruno said, holding out the tablet to you. You sat with Luisa and Pedro in the sand circle, and you gently took the tablet.

“No sign of his family?” Bruno raised an eyebrow at you.

“That’s what I asked, you are his family kid. You and Luisa, and well, the rest of us of course.” The tablet showed you and Luisa holding a little boy between you, all three of you smiling.

Camilo and Antonio were glad to have another boy in the house, even if he wasn’t big enough to play with them yet. Antonio introduced little Pedro to all of his animal friends, and Camilo spent hours doing impressions and earning happy little giggles. Dolores’s children were a bit too young to see the draw in another itty tiny in the house, but they would occasionally ask to hold him. Her youngest being about three. Isa adored being an aunt, and would steal him every chance she got, and was in almost constant competition with Mirabel for time with him.

The town’s folk were a bit unsure at first. They got over it pretty quickly thought. What’s one more miracle in a valley bursting with them. And frankly, Luisa was the cutest mom ever. If her doting didn’t win hearts and change minds, nothing would. She walked through her chores, baby strapped to her chest or back, unless it was something too dangerous for him to be on her person. She talked to him constantly.

“You keep that up, his first word is going to be donkey.” You commented, hip checking her lightly as you took the baby.

“I’m more worried about it being ‘Luisa’. I hear it often enough.” She complained. You laughed a little, kissing his chubby little face. You noticed Agustin approaching and waved as Luisa headed the opposite direction with the donkeys.

“Y/n, hi! I was hoping to steal a little time with my grandson.” He said, perching on a rock. You smiled and set him gently in Agustin’s arms.

“It seems like a fight to get any time with him when Isa or Mira are around.” You joked sitting next to him. You stayed there even after Luisa came back, just letting have some time to be the doting grandfather. He carried Pedro as you walked back to the central square, where Julieta stole him as she tended to her patients.

“Some says I wonder if he’s going to know his parents from the rest of the family.” You said, only 10% serious, as Luisa wrapped an arm around you.

“Maybe, but I can’t imagine a better family for him to have come to.” She countered kissing the top of your head.

#encanto fluff #encanto #disney encanto #luisa/reader #luisaxreader #luisa madrigal #fanfic #reader insert

[iwishtobeastorm]

Hi there! Welcome to my masterlist 🤍

Okay, so I kind of felt like my old masterlist was getting a bit messy, so I made a new one, that might help you find what you’re looking for much easier! Go ahead!

Warnings - my fics will eventually turn 18+, so please respect that - minors don’t interact! Come back when you’re 18, this work will still be here, I promise.

✦ Tag list 

✦  AO3

* = includes explicit content

                                            Adam Driver CU fics

Kylo Ren

Au clair de lune* (Canon divergent AU - Kylo Ren/Innocent!F!Reader)

You’re a stormtrooper, serving as a guard of Supreme Leader’s quarters. You cherish the man ever since you’ve met him for the first time and your admiration soon grows into more. Then an opportunity of your lifetime rises in front of you and you decide to take it, but only Gods know if you have a chance to succeed and secure brighter future for yourself.

Oneshots

Now or never

Flip Zimmerman

No escape* (Canon divergent AU - Dark!Flip Zimmerman/Chubby!F!Reader)

You find yourself lost in the middle of a snow storm. You stumble upon a cabin in the middle of the woods and it’s owner offers you help. Little do you know that your savior might be more dangerous than the cruel weather of the mountains.

Oneshots

Crossing the line*

Adam Sackler

Just my type* (Roommates AU - Adam Sackler/Virgin!Chubby!F!Reader)

You’re a college student and you find yourself sharing an apartment with no one else than our favorite boy, Adam Sackler. He’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of and more, but is there any chance he could feel the same?

Oneshots

Dance-off

I do adore you

Clyde Logan

Eau froide (AU - Clyde Logan/Mermaid!F!Reader)

Clyde found his favorite place in the world a long time ago. What he didn’t know is, that the lake hides something he wouldn’t even dream of. And that little something is you.

Oneshots

Late nights*   

Paterson

Oneshots:

Home*

Charlie Barber

Oneshots:

Priority

Underneath the mistletoe

Only you

                                           Pedro Pascal CU fics 

Din Djarin

Cyar’ika* (Gladiator!Din Djarin/Female!Reader)

What happens when you, a slave, fall in love with Corusant’s favorite gladiator?

Cabur* (Alpha!Din Djarin/F!Omega!Reader)

Short series about how you find out your true mate is a quiet Mandalorian bounty hunter with the cutest green child.

Oneshots

Feathers

Forever

The relief

Cor unum

Frankie Morales

Oneshots

The most dangerous thing

The real beauty*

Study in red

Javier Peña

Oneshots

Hearts on fire

                                                    MCU fics

Natasha Romanova

Oneshots

Mommy’s dearest* (Mommy!Natasha/Chubby!F!Reader) Mommy comes home to you, her little, and rewards you for being a good girl.

Kate Bishop

Oneshots

In your arms  |  Your vigilante (kind of a next chapter)

Other characters fics

Will Miller

Body and soul* (Alpha!Will Miller/Plus-size!Omega!Reader) You and Will are together for a while, when something unplanned comes your way. Aka 3 chapters long series about how the two of you become parents. Warnings? Cuteness overload!

Oneshots

The big problem

Strawberry ice cream

Benny Miller

You were the right one (Alpha!Benny Miller/Omega!F!Reader) Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 Short series about how you find out that the friend of a friend is your true mate in the most inappropriate moment. Things might get spicy later *winks* 

Oneshots

The happy ending

#adam driver #adam sackler #adam sackler x reader #adam sackler x you #Female reader #chubby reader #virgin reader #plus size reader #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren #clyde logan #clyde logan x reader #clyde logan x you #flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x reader series #din djarin #javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier peña x you #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha romanov x you #Natasha Romanov x reader #will miller x reader #will miller x you #will miller

[oldguardhc]

Old Guard hc #194

Note: I’m a huge sucker for @ournextdoorneighbor’s baby Joe and I’ve been meaning to write more Pedro for @flamingbluepanda so tada!!

Nicky can’t help but coo at the adorable sight that greets him when he enters his bedroom. Joe is sound asleep in the middle of the large bed. He’s wearing the yellow onesie with the carrot and the hood, the one that makes accomplishing any tasks impossible because how is anyone supposed to do anything when the most adorable thing is sitting a few feet away? Nicky honestly loves and hates that onesie. Joe’s curled up on his side, sucking away on the pacifier that all the parenting books say he’s too old to keep on using, and hugging Pedro to his chest just like adult Joe does. It’s freaking adorable.

Don’t get Nicky wrong. Adult Joe was-is (they’re going to fix this; they have to) cute in his own way. Whenever he takes a nap, he curls up on his side and hugs Pedro so that Pedro’s face is tucked right under Joe’s chin. It’s always at the perfect height so that if Joe is having an unpleasant dream, he can lower his face and draw comfort from the soft fur. Nicky can’t count how many times his heart has melted as he watched his sweetheart rest.

But baby Joe is something else and it has everything to do with how tiny he is. Where Adult Joe can easily wrap his arms around Pedro and then some, baby Joe struggles to reach both ends, leaving him to clutch the sides with tight chubby fists that Nicky wants to smother with kisses. That’s not the only thing that’s cute though. With Adult Joe, Pedro could only cover his chest. With baby Joe? If Nicky were to spread Pedro out and lay it on top of Joe the way he is right now, they’d be the same size.

Joe let’s out a tiny sigh that’s barely audible with the pacifier in his mouth. Nicky swears he dies a little from the cuteness. He can’t even remember why he came into the room to begin with. It doesn’t matter, Nicky decides as he crawls onto the bed. He pulls the cover and folds it over Joe, careful not to disturb him. When Joe continues to suck on the pacifier, unaware of anything and everything, Nicky brushes a few curls away from Joe’s eyes and places a soft kiss on that chubby cheek.

He loves baby Joe, would kill everyone and then himself if it came down to it. He just misses Adult Joe more and with every passing second, the sting of that ache feels sharper than the last. They’re going to fix this, Nicky silently vows as he curls around Joe. Until then, he’s just going to have to keep this Joe safe.

#the old guard #joe x nicky #nicolo di genova #yusuf al kaysani #tog #hc #where did these words come from?? #sorry for spamming the tags today

[seasonschange-butpeopledont]

Carnival Games

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Warnings: Fluff. Competitiveness. Frankie being a cute dad. 

Word Count: 1,131

Author’s Note: This is inspired by this week’s Writer Wednesday challenge from @autumnleaves1991-blog​

Summary: You and Frankie are determined to win a prize for your daughter at the carnival. 

Taglist Form - Masterlist

Frankie watches in amusement as you draw your eyebrows together in concentration, handing over another ticket to the carnival worker behind the booth. Within a minute you have promptly failed, once again, to hit anywhere near the target when it pops up. It’s cute, really, the way you jump in surprise every time it appears, Frankie decides. The second-long delay before you move to aim at the target throws your timing off, and when the bells ring out, signaling that your turn has ended, you let out a dramatic sigh. The dejected pout on your face perfectly mirrors Isabella’s as she squirms in her stroller. It’s been a long day for her, the hours since the three of you had arrived at the carnival filled with more excitement than she’s used to. The sticky remnants of the chocolate ice cream cone she had earlier are still smeared on her chubby little hands and face no matter how many wet wipes you’ve gone through trying to clean her up. It’s past her bedtime, the sights and sounds of the carnival tiring her out more than usual, and she’s growing crankier by the second. 

The little amusement park had been crowded this afternoon, the squeals of delight and roar of roller coaster cars racing past on the wooden tracks filling your ears, your other senses consumed by the sickly sweet scent of cotton candy and Coppertone and the flashing lights of the carnival games. You and Frankie had both been excited to bring Isabella here now that she’s old enough to enjoy some of the smaller attractions. The highlight of your afternoon had been sight of Frankie cramming his long legs into the little train ride with Isabella in his lap. It was nothing short of adorable, and you made sure to document every second of it on camera for the group chat you and Frankie have with the other boys, which is almost solely dedicated to photos of Isabella. 

“If you’re done putting the fear of god into those pop-up targets, I think the princesa demands we take her home,” Frankie announces. “We can always just buy her something from one of those booths on the way out.” 

“Those are for quitters, Francisco,” You shake your head. “I’ll just try one more time-”

“Babe, you said that twenty minutes ago,” he points out. He’s right, but the thrill of the carnival has you hooked, and all hope of rational thought has gone out the window while you sit in front of the game.

“It’s rigged!” you declare in your defense, looking over your shoulder to him. You’ve spent the better part of a half-hour at this same booth, shooting at little pop up targets with a laser gun, all the while insisting that you would win Isabella a stuffed animal to take home as a memento. Twice you’ve ordered Frankie back to the ticket booth, determined to win something no matter what the cost- which, at the moment, is looking like roughly thirty bucks, and counting. At this point, both you and Frankie realize that you could just buy her whatever stuffed animal she wanted and pretend that you’d won it for her, but you’re stubborn. You refuse to be one of those lame parents who buys their kid the consolation stuffed animals by the front gates because they can’t win them anything. 

“It’s not rigged.” Frankie shakes his head. “Your aim sucks. So does your technique.” 

You scoff, attempting to make yourself sound and appear scandalized even though you know it's the truth. 

“Well, alright then, Mr. Military Man. If you think you can do so much better, why don’t you give it a shot?” You’re taunting him, but he takes the bait just like you knew he would, your competitive natures not allowing either of you to let the challenge slide. 

Frankie chuckles, gesturing to the wall of stuffed animals. “Which one do you want, Isa?” he asks with a smirk. The toddler stares up at the prizes dangling above her head, her gaze landing on the giant bears on the top row. She raises her arm to point at them, Frankie trailing her line of sight. He hears you giggling beside him when you realize what she’s pointing to. He would need a perfect score to win one of those. 

“That’s my girl,” you coo appreciatively, crouching down next to Isabella’s stroller to bump her tiny fist against yours. “We’re gonna make your dad eat his words, aren’t we?” 

“Seriously? Honey, I’m a professional,” Frankie reminds you. “I can do this in my sleep.”

“That doesn’t matter. As I said, the game is rigged.” 

Rolling his eyes, he hands a ticket to the teenager manning the booth, taking a seat on the stool you’d previously occupied. 

From the look on his face, you knew that no part of Frankie had expected himself to fail. It was a carnival game, and he’s a former special ops soldier. By all accounts, Frankie is a force to be reckoned with, with deadly accurate aim. If he can’t hit those targets, then you assume that your assessment had been correct; it really was rigged. 

But there Frankie sits, stunned into silence as the carnival worker hands him a small, pink frog. A pathetic little prize compared to the bear he’d set out to win for his little girl. He just stared at it for a moment, the button eyes seeming to mock him. You place a hand on his shoulder. “Good job, baby,” you cheered, taking the frog from him and handing it over to the toddler. “Isa, look what daddy won for you!” You watch Frankie’s eyes dart from Isabella to the giant bear on the wall. She was already gnawing on one of the frog’s stuffed toes, cuddling into it happily. 

“I’m going again,” he decides, already digging out another ticket from his pocket. 

“Frankie, it doesn’t matter,” you remind him, the clarity of logical, adult thinking settling in now that you’re no longer being lured in by the carnival game’s illusion of simplicity. “You won her an adorable little frog, and now we can go home-”

“We aren’t leaving here until I win that big ass teddy bear,” he declared, cutting you off. He says it with all of the determination and resolve of those little old ladies you’d seen camped in front of the slot machines at the casino you’d visited on your honeymoon, and you realize that the carnival has claimed the impulse-control of yet another seemingly sane adult, all in the name of your toddler and a giant purple bear. With a wild look in his eyes, Frankie nods for them to start the game again. You have a feeling you’re going to be here for a while. 

General Taglist: @theravenreads @marshmallowtraver @computeringturtle @adikaofmandalore @pascalisthepunkest @supernaturalcat7 @maythxthirstbxwithyou

Pedro Character Taglist: @coldlilheart

#Writer Wednesday #Frankie Morales #Triple Frontier #frankie morales x reader

[knivesareout]

like it or not

Pairing: Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: FLUFF, seriously so much fluff it’s disgusting. Food mention. Possible typos?

Summary: Kids aren’t afraid to speak their mind and your daughter is no exception. 

A/N: Based off this TikTok. The fic wrote itself, basically. Was gonna write it for a Pedro character but someone (@michaelperry​ @marvelousmermaid​) mentioned Santi so here we are. AO3 link here. Enjoy!

---

It was a quiet Sunday morning and you were basking in the silence.

You’d left bed only a few minutes ago with a sleeping Santi and your daughter curled up soundly against his side, snoring softly. It was rare that the two of them slept later than you did on any given day and you planned to take advantage for as long as you could manage.

It started out with a quick shower in the guest bathroom. Less chances of them waking up, you figured, not willing to chance it. After that it was a face mask that you’d managed to grab from your own bathroom while you fully moisturized your body with the lotion tucked under the cabinet.

As much as you loved your little family, and you did, it was nice to have time to yourself. Things were almost always chaos around your house; with Lucy running and getting into everything her hands could reach and Santi working later hours, you were feeling run down and it seemed like someone was smiling down on you this morning to allow you the peace and quiet you’d desperately needed. 

You figure it was probably best to start on breakfast now before Lucy woke up and decided she wanted to help. Usually you didn’t mind her asking to help but it almost always ended up in a mess and this morning it wasn’t something you really wanted to deal with if you could avoid it. 

Music plays quietly in the background of the kitchen. It was a soft rock playlist Santi had made for you when you first started dating. It reminds you of stolen kisses and long distance phone calls in the middle of the night when he was stationed in another country-  harder but simpler times. A time before mortgages, shared finances, and your daughter.

By the time the pancakes are done and you start working on the eggs, you hear heavy footsteps climbing down the stairs and smile. As sad as you were to have your quiet morning coming to an end, you knew the smell of breakfast was bound to wake them up sooner rather than later. 

“Good morning mi reina,” Santi greets you, walking into the kitchen with Lucy hiked up high on his hip, still dressed in his boxers and a black shirt. Her head was buried sleepily in his neck, her pj’s askew from a heavy night’s sleep, curls wild, and the image has your heart squeezing. 

“Morning handsome,” you call back, pushing the eggs around in the pan.

Santi sidles up to you to press a kiss to your cheek and you lean over, pressing one to Lucy’s forehead. “Morning baby, did you sleep okay?”

She nods tiredly, looking around. “Pancakes for breakfast?”

Of course she skips right over the eggs you were clearly cooking and you roll your eyes, reaching over to tickle her tummy. “Yes and eggs too,” you told her and she giggles, shying away from your hands. 

You start to plate everything up once the eggs are done, bringing them over to the table while Santi buckles Lucy up in her booster seat. 

“How long have you been up babe?” 

“A couple hours, maybe?” You tell him, cutting up Lucy’s pancakes and drizzling them lightly with syrup before sliding it closer to her. “You two were passed out and I couldn’t sleep anymore so I figured I’d get a head start on everything.”

You all dig in, hands moving faster than your mouths can chew. 

Lucy’s covered in syrup by the time you’re all done with breakfast, face and hands sticky and you’re just thankful she didn’t get any in her hair. 

“I’ll take care of the dishes if you wanna go clean her up?”

You take your boyfriend up on the offer quickly. He knows doing dishes is your least favorite chore and you pull your sticky handed daughter out of her booster seat, careful to avoid her grip. “How do you always get so sticky, my little gremlin?”

“No mommy,” she tells you, going to grab for your face but you dodge her hands, laughing on your way to the bathroom. 

She doesn’t fight you as you wipe carefully at her chubby cheeks, lips blowing raspberries while you clean her up. “You’re so silly, my little monkey. Come on, let’s see if daddy’s finished the dishes.”

Once she’s on her own two feet, she takes off towards the kitchen and you’re slow to follow her. It seemed like only yesterday she was barely learning how to walk and now she’s running through the house at full speed, letting nothing get in her way. 

“So, what’s the plan for today? Or is there no plan and we’re just winging it?”

Santi’s finished loading the dishwasher when you find him, Lucy messing with the magnets towards the bottom of the refrigerator and trying to see how high she can get them as she jumps. 

There’s so much that needs to be done. Laundry was piling up in the mud room, the front and backyard both needed to be mowed, and the house was in desperate need of a full sweep and yet, there was no desire to do any of it. 

“Can we just sit on the couch and watch movies all day?” 

Lucy squeals below you, clapping. “Nemo!” She starts chanting, abandoning the magnets to hop into the living room, curls bouncing, and you sigh. It wasn’t exactly what you had in mind but you don’t have the heart to tell her no. 

Santi just shoots you an apologetic smile, pulling you into his chest and kissing the top of your forehead. “Maybe she’ll nap soon?”

“You two just woke up,” you remind him, poking him gently in the stomach. 

He just laughs, guiding you two into the living room where Lucy’s waiting patiently on the couch. 

“Come here munchkin,” Santi dives for her, easily picking her up and settling her in his lap once he’s comfortable on the couch. 

You settle on the loveseat by yourself, spreading yourself out on the cushions and pull up Finding Nemo on Disney+. 

It was the 3rd time in the last week you all had watched this particular movie. Lucy was going through a “fish phase” as Santi liked to call it, and it was easy for you to drift off, the noise familiar. 

An hour later, loud giggles fill your ears and you turn on the loveseat to see Lucy crawling over her father like a jungle gym, using his arms as a monkey bar and it puts a sleepy smile on your face as you watch the two of them. 

“Mommy’s awake,” Santi whispers loudly to Lucy once he spots your eyes cracking open and she squeals when she sees you.

“Hi baby. Sorry I fell asleep,” you tell her, turning around to sit up, rubbing at your tired eyes with a yawn.

“It’s okay mommy. Daddy says you woke up early and was tired,” she explains, sitting half on Santi’s shoulder and half on his back as he lays down across the couch. 

You hum quietly as the movie continues to play, checking the time to see it was only half past 12. Your eyes drift back towards your daughter and boyfriend, watching as Lucy starts to stroke the side of Santi’s head and looks at him curiously. 

“Daddy, you have paint on your hair,” she tells him, pointing at a thicker patch of gray that had become more prominent in the last couple of months.

Santi looks at you for help, clearly confused as to what she was talking about but you shrug, trying to hold back your grin.

“Paint on my hair?” He asks her. 

“Yeah, right there,” she points to the grays and a quiet giggle escapes your lips. Santi seems to understand then and huffs.

“No princesa, that’s gray hair.” 

“Gray hair?” She strokes the patch, tugging on it a little and Santi winces.

“Yeah, cause your daddy’s old.” 

Santi shoots you a death glare and Lucy just giggles above him, moving herself off his back and jumping on the empty cushion at the end of the couch by Santi’s feet.

“Daddy’s old, daddy’s old!”

“Luciana Rose Garcia, don’t be mean to your father,” you try to scold her but your tone is light and honestly the whole thing is just hilarious. Santi’s pouting as he watches his daughter chant about how old he is and you sit up, moving to place yourself in his lap and pull him into your chest.

“I think the gray is sexy,” you tell him quietly in his ear, tugging the hair at the back of his head.

“Mommy!” Lucy jumps towards you and places herself in your lap and it’s one big pile of limbs now on top of Santi once she’s settled in.

The movie’s over 20 minutes later and you’re thankful. Lucy’s eyes have started to droop as the movie ends and you heave a sigh of relief. 

“I’m gonna put her to bed but I’ll see you in the bedroom in 10?”

You slide off Santi’s lap, careful not to jostle your 4 year old too much until she’s situated against your chest and snoring softly against your shoulder.

He nods, looking up at you with clear admiration written across his face and you nudge his foot with yours. “See you in a sec, old man.”

#santiago garcia #santiago 'pope' garcia #santiago x reader #triple frontier #oscar isaac #my writing #idk how else to tag this ??????

[beefrobeefcal]

Beefro Proudly Presents:

a Joel Miller & his Darlin' One Shot: A Trouble Shared is a Trouble Halved Summary: You and Joel navigate settling down in Jackson as a couple with its ups and downs. (Post Outbreak)

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader | Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) | Word Count: 3,900

Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, fingering (f receiving), talk of eating, weight gain, oral (f receiving), angst, established relationship growing pains, argument

Author's Notes: Am I back? Maybe baby! I'm delighted to finally do what was asked of me in a poll and I thank you all for your love and patience.

Thanks be to @neverwheremoonchild, @strang3lov3, and @notjustjavierpena for their eyes, thots, and brains. And thank you to @noxturnalpascal for the THOT that gave life to this fic so very long ago.

“Eatin’ like it's your last day on earth, Miller...”, you teased with a wry smile as you walked past him in the dining hall.

“Shut it...”, he grumbled, a bit of pink flushing his cheeks. He took another bite of gravy-flooded mashed potatoes.

“What helping’s this? Third? Fourth?”

Joel looked at you, exasperated. “The fuck? Can't a man enjoy his girl’s cookin’ without the third degree?”

You smiled at him, loving how much of a rise you were getting. It had been a few months since you and Joel had your first encounter, and while nothing was made official, more often than not, you’d find yourself entwined with Joel in your bed at night. His heavy, full stomach pressed against your back as you both slept peacefully. While you enjoyed your time together, you were beginning to feel something was lacking, hence your teasing.

The cold glare he gave immediately dampened the playful banter between you. You felt a twist in your mood and sour heat in your stomach.

He shook his turkey leg at you, giving you a scolding look, and warned, “You better knock that shit off, Darlin’... or so help me, I’m not gonna - .”

“Not gonna what?”, you asked, getting closer, and you voice dropped down to a cool whisper only he could hear. “Not gonna fuck me? Pretty sure haven’t been doing that lately anyway, so what’d be the difference, huh?”

He sat back with wide eyes and his mouth open in shock, and his full belly sat rounded out on his lap. You stood up, brow raised, and arms crossed.

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?!”

Joel was affectionate, but usually too tired, full or both to do anything but let you ride him. And not to say you didn't enjoy it, but it was starting to feel a bit one sided. He hadn’t done anything beyond finger you a bit to get you ready and then sweet talk you into being on top again. He’d apologize and praise you, but you wanted more. Especially now that there was more to him.

His eating habits had really started to impact his physique; his jawline was softer, his arms and thighs were thicker, but his stomach was truly the star of the show. He’d made do with the clothes he had for as long as he could, but at the rate he was eating and the limited physical activity he’d been doing, he had to trade labor and time for new shirts and pants that would fit him. And on nights when he ate like this, you swore you could hear the seams praying to their polyester gods for mercy.

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“Coulda fooled me!”, he snapped, louder than he meant. “Seems to do the trick and make you whine and mewl like a beaten dog almost every night!”

You felt your face get hot as a few heads in the dining hall turned towards you. He sighed and his eyes softened as he saw your face fall a bit. But you held firm, pulling your mouth into a scowl.

“Not every night, nowhere near it. And I’m the one doing the work. I’m the one fuckin’ you!”, you hissed.

Before giving him a chance to say anything else, you quickly turned and went back into the kitchen.

*****

After storming out of the dining hall, you’d spent the rest of your shift cleaning the entire kitchen, probably to a degree it hadn’t been since its installation. You’d scrubbed and polished every surface with enough fury in your eyes that no one dared step in. It wasn’t until you heard the jukebox turn off and see the lights in the dining hall dim that you realized you’d been at this for a few hours.

As you leaned back against the counter, head down and thinking over how your and Joel’s interaction had escalated like that, you heard a small voice say your name. You looked up and saw Sally, one of the other kitchen attendants.

“Sorry - don’t mean to interrupt, but I’m tryin’ to close up and Joel won’t leave. Says he’s not leavin’ without’cha.”

You scoffed out a ‘for fuck’s sake’ then walked to the swinging doors, only to see Joel, still seated where he was before, leaning back in his chair and picking his teeth with a toothpick. His eyes met yours, and you knew just from the look he was giving, he had a lot more to say.

“Joel, go home. Need to close up and can’t if you’re here.”

He looked behind you at Sally and gave her a small wave. “I’ll help her close up, Sally. You run on home. We got this.”

“Joel!”, you hissed.

“Go on now, Sally.”

His tone left little room for Sally to argue, and she muttered a ‘good night’ as she passed by you then Joel as head made her way out the door.  You sighed, clenching your jaw, feeling the frustration and anger that you’d just weeded down in your cleaning frenzy begin to rise again. Joel watched Sally leave, then turned back to you, smug look on his face, made all the smugger as he noted your irritation.

“Darlin’, cut that shit out and come’ere.”, he crooned with a small grin, hilding his hand out to you.

You glared at him, not moving from your position.

He kept his hand out and raised his eyebrows and let out a huff. “Don’t make this old man beg, baby…”

“I think this old man has a lot more ground to cover than just beggin’.”, you responded cooly, crossing your arms across your chest. Before Joel could answer, you turned and went back to the kitchen to finish your duties.

You figured there was a 50 / 50 chance of Joel following you in, so as the door swung open and his heavy footsteps lumbered towards you, you knew he was at least picking up slightly on the passive aggressive breadcrumbs you’d dropped. You kept your back to him, drying cutlery and putting them into their respective bins.

“Darlin’…”

Joel’s voice was set low in a growl, leaving you unable to tell whether he was angry or aroused. You jumped as his hand grazed your lower back and settled on your waist, giving you a small squeeze.

“You wan’me to beg?”, he huskily growled into the back of your neck as he pressed a kiss to your skin.

“I gotta finish closin’ up, Joel.”, you stated, keeping your voice as even and unaffected as you could muster.

Joel let out a frustrated sigh-turned-grunt and let you go, stepping back. He leaned back against the wooden shelf behind him, the wood creaking in objection to his weight.

“Fuck, you’re being-“, he started, before letting out a huff. “What has gotten into you?”

Turning around, you were met with something you didn’t anticipate – a dark, sullen, glaring Joel, eyes burning into you.

“Joel-“, you groaned, before he cut you off.

“Don’t fuckin’ Joel me.”, he snapped. “You got a lot of fuckin’ nerve. You know what you said in front of the people eatin’ their food out there? You said I wasn’t fuckin’ you right. And then, I sit here like a goddamned fool, waitin’ for you to finish so we can talk, and you turn your back on me.”

“Joel, I need t-“

“Shut up! I ain’t done talkin’!”

You close your mouth and swallow hard. While you’d seen him get mad before, Joel had never directed it towards you before, and lord almighty, it sucked.

“You think I’m a fuckin’ mind reader? Think I’m gonna know you’re not happy?”, he asked, sounding loud and desperate, as he stood up and stalked towards you.

As he looked down at you, realization of how much bigger he was, in height and weight, came over you.

“I have said someth-“, you tried to argue, but his large hand grabbing yours and tugging you against him stopped you.

“Don’t interrupt me!”, he barked. “You aint said shit! And now you – fuck! No. You know what? Ain’t worth it!”

His eyes glowered down into yours and you in turn felt your eyes begin to sting with tears at the loss of contact. This was the most emotionally charged you’d seen Joel, and you wanted that same energy and passion when he fucked you, not use it to berate you for needing him to give you the same time and attention he showered on the food you cooked for the whole community. You could feel your face getting hot from the anger that was boiling in you over how overlooked you felt, even if it wasn’t entirely true. You were in a heated, frenzied spiral and reason and rationale had abandoned you.

Before you could snap back and tell him how worth it you actually were, Joel’s eyes softened; he let out a deep breath and let go of your arm and stepped back.

“I’ll… I’ll see you at home.”, Joel muttered before he turned and walked out of the kitchen.

You stood silently and watched him leave, feeling your heart break and immolate in your rib cage and hot tears fall down your face. It hit you hard just how hurt you both were.

*****

The house was dark when you walked in the front door. Joel had left no lights on, and you knew Ellie would be at Dina’s house for the night. The only hint you had to deduce that Joel was in fact home was the dim light you saw through his bedroom window as you approached the house. You hung your coat and tucked your boots on the shelf before quietly ascending the stairs to go to your room.

As you tiptoed in the hallways, you passed Joel’s bedroom door and heard him moving around his room. You could see his shadow from the light slipping under his doorway and felt your stomach curdle and sour, your mind jumping to rash conclusions about what he could be doing in there.

Was he packing to move out and get away from you?

Was he trying to clean up to remove your smell?

Was he collecting your things that you’d left in his room so he could hand them to you and tell you to get out?

As the thoughts rippled through your brain, you knew Joel was more methodical than that. He wouldn’t just leave or make you leave like that… would he?

You stepped forward, forgetting about that floorboard. The creak that sang out made both you and Joel’s shadow stop. You kept still for a moment, but the shadow didn’t move either. You were suddenly thrust back into your childhood; the times you were trying to sneak down into the kitchen to grab a snack or watch a blue movie on cable television without your parents catching you.

That fucking floorboard.

The shadow moved slightly, signaling Joel was getting closer to the door, and you moved quickly to your room, no longer caring how much noise you made. As you reached to grab your door handle, you heard Joel’s door pull open.

“Darlin’?”

Your hand clasped the knob, and you closed your eyes, hearing his voice.

“Yeah, Joel?”

You were surprised how soft and calm your voice sounded; it was a stark contrast to the overwhelming, post-anger, anxiety-ridden mess that was your mind.

“Turn around and look at me, Baby.”

“M’tired, Joel… Just gonna go to bed and – “

“I said turn around.”

It wasn’t a request. His tone was gentle, but you could feel it in your bones that this was a command - a soft one, but a command none the less. Your skin prickled in a wave of goosebumps, up your body, culminating at the base of your neck.

Joel must have been able to see the effect he had on you, because the voice he used to speak almost melted the flesh from your bones.

“Darlin’, you’re gonna turn around and look at me. Now.”

You turned around and looked at him. His broad and hefty silhouette stood ominously in his doorway, backlit by the soft glow from his bedroom.

“You comin’ to bed?”, Joel said quietly, but there was an edge to his tone that made your skin once again pebble.

You narrowed your eyes and tilted your head at his question, then shook your head subtly.

“No, Joel. I figured we’d take the night an-“

“And what?”, he snapped, stepping out into the hallway and towards you.

When you didn’t answer, he took another few steps and growled in a lower tone, “And what?!”

Your eyes went wide as he got closer, and your fight or flight kicked in. Taking a step back, you hit your bedroom door, and stumbled through your words. “I… I-I thought… I figured that you’d wanna-“

“That I’d wanna what?”, he snarled, stepping close and his full belly pressed you further into your door.

“Th-that you’d… you’d wanna be… alone to-tonight…”

Joel’s hand came up and he grabbed your chin, forcing your face square to his. “And why d’you think that?”

“Because… because we fought-“

“And you think that gives you the right to not sleep in my bed?”

You were stunned; you had no answer for him, and you also hadn’t ever been this turned on by him with out him already being knuckle deep in your pussy. You swallowed hard and stared back at him. This was a feeling you couldn’t place; it felt like you were slipping under a spell that Joel was casting.

The only response you could finally give was a headshake, and Joel returned it with a curt nod and slight grin.

“Good girl.”, he purred and released your chin.

You followed Joel back into his room, and stood awkwardly as he closed the door. You’d been in his room countless times, and you’d never felt this out of place. You jumped when he put his hands on your hips from behind and pulled you back, the curve of your spine being the perfect angle for his heavy belly to fit against.

“You feel like I’m not takin’ care of you, Darlin’?”, he huskily mewled into your ear before nipping it.

“Joel, I’m sor-“

“Stop.”, he said, abruptly stopping you from finishing your apology.

“We’re past that, Darlin’. Both said things we needed to say, even if we said’em not so nicely.”

You could hear the small smile in his voice and couldn’t help the one that tugged at your mouth slightly. A whisper soft sound came out of you with a sigh. 

But then his tone dipped down, and as he rasped into your ear; one of his hands on your hip slipped to your front as he cupped your denim clad mound.

“You got my attention, baby. You feelin’ needy?”

Your mouth opened, and our flew a feather-light choked whimper. He gripped you roughly and pulled you snug against him, enough so that you could feel his thick and hard cock press against your ass.

“That why you had an attitude with me today? Needed me to fuck you? Fix that ache in your needy pussy?”

You breathed his name out as your brows furrowed and your eyes clenches closed. “Joel…” Your hand snapped on top of his over your crotch, forcing him to apply more pressure and squeeze.

“Need me to remind you that you’re mine?”, he growled before biting the crux of your neck and shoulder.

You nodded, breathing rapidly, then you let out a squeal as he shook your hand off his, then turned and shoved you against the wall. He got close and his hands made quick work in opening and shoving down your jeans. His eyes snapped up to yours and his hand dove between your legs.

“Fuck, baby…”, he sighed, eyes rolling back as he felt how wet you were. “My poor girl’s floodin’ the basement and it’s’all my fault.”

You grabbed his wrist, stabilizing yourself, and let whining pants out with each breath as his middle finger began to dip in an out of your hole. The tip of his thumb gently circled you’re aching clit.

“Yeah… I know I been neglectin’ you, baby girl… but not ‘cause of nothin’ you did… no, baby… you’re just keepin’ me too well fed and I’m fit to be tied by the time we get home… if I could fuck you the way you deserve every night…”

“Oh fuck… Joel, I need y –“

“But you always lettin’ me get away with being lazy an’watchin’ your perfect tits bounce while you fuck this fat old man…”, he rasped, his lids heavy as he watched your face contort in need. “Jesus, Darlin’, you got e’ry right to be cross with me…”

As much as you loved his voice, you needed more. Fisting his shirt, you pulled his face to yours and sucked him into a desperate and messy kiss, teeth and tongues colliding, and it was sharp and splitting. You didn’t need gentle – you needed him.

He finally pulled back, breathing heavily, same as you, and a grin tugged at his parted lips.

“Oh, Darlin’…”, he cooed, finger and thumb still working your cunt in tandem. He leaned in, ghosting his mouth over yours and asked in a voice so soft, you could have cried. “I need you to know how bad you got me, baby… tell me what I can do to prove it.”

Emboldened by his lust-blown eyes with heavy lids looking at you desperately, you put your hand on his shoulder and gave him a gentle push down. A smile pulled at one side of his mouth, instantly understanding your silent request. He stepped back and groaned as he lowered himself down, joints cracking as he got on one knee, and he looked up as he pulled your jeans down further then helped you step out, one leg at a time. As he de-robed your second leg, he lifted it over his shoulder, and he scooted forward, and your eyes stayed trained on him, catching every detail, every twitch of his face as he breathed huskily and inhaled your scent. You watched his eyes flutter and roll back, like you were a buffet of fine cuisine, and he was a starved man. He pressed his nose in your crux and nudged in further, panting and swearing under his breath as he let your aroma and essence envelope him.

He took his time, as if he was making sure to catch every flavour, every note of your taste and smell, almost punishing himself for allowing you to feel unappreciated. His hands reached behind and pulled your hips forward into his face and you whimpered out a gasp as your shoulders planted against the wall behind you being the only thing keeping you upright.

“Joel…”, you breathed out, swallowing, trying to alleviate the dry mouth your open mouth breathing had caused. “Joel, please…”

He groaned into your warmth and opened his mouth, finally letting himself have a taste. His tongue licked out between your folds, starting slowly, but began to increase in intensity as he realized this was his favourite thing to savour. He grunted and panted as he lapped at you, his grip that held you so firmly to his face hurting you in the absolute best way possible.

Your fingers pulled his hair, aiding in keeping your core tightly affixed to his gaping maw, and you rocked your hip, mewling and crying out, begging him for more. Joel was in no position to deny you want you needed, not only because of the iron-clad connection currently created by both of your individual efforts, but he was eating his favourite thing. He’d denied you both for so long, he would happily suffocate between your thighs before ever taking a proper breath again if it paid the price of his sin. The noises he made as he ate and licked and devoured you sounded obscene - he sounded like a starved and feral dog, gnawing at a cut of meat tossed to him out of pity. You’re sure that if you saw his eyes, they’d be a black abyss like a shark’s as it bit down on its next meal.

The sounds he was ripping and peeling out of you were music to his ears, championing him further, pushing him harder to make you give him more of those delicious noises. He was rocking his hips in time with his mouth and tongue, letting his throbbing cock rut against the inside of his jean’s rough zipper. Between that, your taste and your fingers pulling his scalp taught with hair, he was in pure ecstasy.

He brought his hand attached to the shoulder your leg was propped up on and pushed two thick fingers into your core and began to pump them in and out - again, in time with his own hips’ rhythm. The white-hot burning coil that Joel had been slowly winding with his mouth finally sprung loose and snapped. You arched your back, silently screaming out as your body went rigid, and vaguely heard Joel growl. He continued to suck hard on your twitching and swollen clit and punched his fingers up into you as your rode out your orgasm. You heard liquid hitting the wood floor before you heard Joel let out a series of high-pitched groans.

His fingers slowed and his mouth was panting hot, quick breaths on your aching core. You looked down at him, chest heaving, to see him shakily pull his fingers from you and shove them in his mouth. Joel was a beautiful and carnal sight: breathing hard in grunts as he sucked his fingers clean. The act looked primitive, like he’d accessed his baser instincts, and he was satisfying a basic human need, a millennia in the making.

“Joel.”, you croaked, and he looked up at you with blurred eyes that slowly began to focus. He slowly pulled himself up, heaving his heavy belly. You helped him come back to his fully height and he leaned into you, pressing his forehead to yours. You could smell yourself on him as he kissed you softly before resuming your connection through foreheads.

“That was…”

“Yeah… fuck yeah… taste so good.”

“I wanna return the fav-“

Your hand cupped what you thought would be his hard cock, but stopped when you felt him softening and his jeans were warm and damp. You pulled your head back and looked at him, prompting a huffed laugh from Joel, pink flushing up his neck to his cheeks.

“You’re my favourite meal, Darlin’. You got me hooked.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby.”

He pulled you away from the wall and onto the bed. He laid back and groaned as his spine relaxed. His full belly domed above him, moving gently up and down with each breath and you sat up, giving it a rub.

“You ate well tonight…”, you cooed, unbuckling his belt and opening his jean to access the mess he made.

He chuckled, supporting his head on an arm as he watched you with a grin. “Couldn’t help it… you serve food too good to not destroy myself on it, Darlin’.”

You shot him a look as you peeled back his damp and sticky underwear.

“Like I said, Darlin’…  you serve up a good meal.”

beef's glossary: The term "blue movie" is an old-fashioned slang term used to describe pornographic films, usually of the low budget variety.

TAGLIST: @theywhowriteandknowthings @harryleatherfit @toxicanonymity @harriedandharassed @neverwheremoonchild @rebel-held @beee-haw @nevergoingbacknowshine @idolatrybarbie @v4vayha @lalocitos @xdaddysprincessxx @deathsholywaterr @heareball @lyssramscal @wintrwinchestr @nerdieforpedro  @southernbe @starkeydaviss @noxturnalpascal @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog@vabeachazn @clawdee @iamasaddie @tightjeansjavi@rubyfruitjungle@lilmizmoz @strang3lov3

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #chubby!joel miller #chubby!joel #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #chubby joe #chubby pedro rights !!! #chubby pedro pascal #fat belly #pedro pascal tummy nation #beefro's bistro #beefro is sweating #you asked beefro answered #🥩

[lunasblipsandblurbs]

i’m really insecure about my face having chubby cheeks, if you’re free can i request for any of the boys with an s/o who has chubby cheeks? anything that can make me feel a bit better about it :( thank you!

Bby I bet you are the most beautiful person! Having chubby cheeks just means less wrinkles. You will be looking youthful forever hun! Also insecurities BE GONE THOT we have all the Pedro boys I could somewhat accurately write!

*Gender Neutral 

*ALSO A FEW ARE 18+ SO ONLY FOR MY GIRLS, GAY, THEYS, AND THOTS. NO MINORS. 

*ALSO NON OF THESE GIFS ARE MINE, CREDIT GOES TO ARTISTS WHO TOOK THE TIME TO CREATE IT (if you are an artist of these and wish for me to take it down shoot me a message and I will do so ASAP <3)

Din Djarin

When you bring up to Din your insecurity about your cheeks Din is seriously not going to understand it. He loves your face it’s a big part as to why he pursued you in the first place, he thought you were pretty and that’s HUGE for a guy who was raised to not give a fuck about appearances. He’s going to gently caress your cheeks as he brings your foreheads together to press together into a kelble kiss. He doesn’t really know what to say but he does know what to do to bring some ease to you.

Javier Pena

‘Honey, what?” your gonna get that exasperated look, y’know the one he threw at Connie when her husband went fucking missing? But unfortunately that was the wrong reaction and thus you burst into tears. Javi scrambles up to reach out to you as he cradles your face in between his neck and shoulders. He’s gonna be able to get you calm pretty damn fast as he comforts you and shows you truly how much he loves your face, especially how it looks when you find your bliss.

Frankie Morales

He’s going to empathies with you for sure. He gets insecure about his own cheeks thinking they’ve grown more puffy due to age and his habit of having a beer or two. He’s gonna sit down and ask you if you would ever think less of him because of his own puffy cheeks. When you gasp and scold him of how you could and would never. He just gives you a warm smile as you reach up to press a kiss to your temple, whispering “then stop being so mean to yourself.” 

Ezra

He is instantly going to baby you once you bring up your insecurity. Provider and protector mode activated for Ez. He is going to coddle you and bring you into his personal bubble asap, waxing poetry on the spot about your face and your chubby cheeks. He thinks they are down right beautiful and brings you such a lovely quality. 

Max Philips 

Max is literally going to hypnotize you. It will be consensual for sure, do not worry but god he just cannot keep hearing you speak so lowly on your face. He honestly gets a little pissy about how down you are about your cheeks. “I LITERALLY call you Dollface! You can’t get anymore perfect than a goddamn doll, Sweetheart!” he does not say that with any malice it’s just that he really does not know what else to do or say to get it through your head that you are FUCKING GORGEOUS DAMMIT.

Pero Tovar

Excuse me? I’m gonna have to ask you to not speak so poorly of yourself or your husband is literally going to pop a fucking blood vessel. He just does. not. get. it. In his eyes you are perfect, unable to do wrong in any sense of the word and he WILL NOT accept you thinking so lowly of your angelic face. He’s going to seduce you into bed and get you so built up and frustrated that he will not show you mercy with release until you are repeating like a mantra “I’m perfect, I’m perfect, I’m perfect!” with every thrust. 

Marcus Pike

Now why did you have to go and break this man's heart? He is so confused, how could you not see how perfect you are. He was drawn to you in the first place because of your face and that fact that you don’t like a part of it that he kisses ALL THE TIME. He just….bitch(lovingly) what?! He is gonna get you in tears though, this man is an artist not just busting art crime. You are gonna come home one day to Marcus showing you his sketchbook. It’s something he holds really close to himself, always a tad insecure with his own work. And every couple pages there is a portrait study of you and that’s the first time you are able to see how truly beautiful Marcus sees you. 

Jack Daniels (Whiskey)

“Now darlin’ why would you go on ahead and rip out this old cowboy's heart?” Yes your dramatic yeehaw hunnie does not see any humor in the self deprecating joke you just cracked about your cheeks. He is gonna instantly tug you into his space, you resting on his lap as he instantly starts rubbing up and down your thigh as his other hand starts brushing his fingers delicately against your cheeks. He can never keep his hands off you already and the fact you are feeling insecure? Well Jackie-boy here is going to fix that faster than (insert yeehaw metaphor here). He’s gonna get you worked up by whispering dirty things to you going on and on how he loves to finish on your pretty face for a reason, sugar. 

Dave York

He’s literally going to stop and just give you the meanest glare. So much so that you end up bursting into tears because WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK DAVID!? He tends to do that sometimes, puts on a meaner face than intended due to his line of work making him a tad bit more...scary? Eh we always love a bad boy? Bad...suburban dad?? He’s going to usher you to sit down on the couch as he kneels in front of you to match your eye level. His gaze is intense, it always is. “I need you to listen because I really only want this to be a one time conversation. I don’t see what you see because all I see is the person I love, okay? Good.” He’s going to give your ass a squeeze when you both stand up and you give him a hug. He’s not the best with emotions but for you, he tries.

#the mandolorian x reader #din djarin x reader #javier pena x reader #frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #ezra (prospect) x reader #ezra prospect x reader #max phillips x reader #pero tovar x reader #marcus pike x reader #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x reader

[radiowallet]

I posted 5,248 times in 2021

926 posts created (18%)

4322 posts reblogged (82%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 4.7 posts.

I added 3,618 tags in 2021

#cat replies - 767 posts

#cat reads - 461 posts

#marcus moreno - 455 posts

#fic rec - 401 posts

#marcus moreno fic - 366 posts

#pedro pascal - 283 posts

#fic recs - 249 posts

#cat answers - 248 posts

#pwc inspo - 205 posts

#din djarin - 183 posts

Longest Tag: 128 characters

#and i spent a lot of my childhood (and adulthood) feeling like my words didn't matter to the people who were supposed to love me

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Hello All! Welcome to my masterlist! My name is Cat. I am but a humble little nerd just pushing my silly stories out into the world. Please come in, have a look around, and leave a reblog or a comment if you find something you like. This is an 18+ blog, so please minors, turn around and I’ll see you on the flip side. All smut will be denoted with the typical ** at the end!

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203 notes • Posted 2021-05-21 13:55:38 GMT

#4

Grocery Run

For @autumnleaves1991-blog Writer Wednesday! Thank you so much for putting this together!

Summary: Din and Grogu go grocery shopping for the first time as a team of two. 

Pairing: Dr. Din Djarin and Grogu, Dr. Din Djarin x F!Reader (First Assist)

WC: 1k

Warnings: Fluff, fluff, and more fluff

Notes: Takes place well after the Grogu arc. Just something light and fluffy because, well, it’s just what I needed. And I would be remiss to not once again praise @disgruntledspacedad for being a constant muse for this AU! Thank you, Cool Ranch!

“Got the list, buddy?” Din asks the chubby cheeked baby as he sets the car seat in the front of the grocery cart. He stares at the placement a moment longer, wondering if this is the safest way to do this. He had seen moms doing the same thing as he sat in his truck, giving himself a pre-shopping pep talk, placing the plastic car seats on top of the carts like that was the exact intended purpose of the manufacturers.  He locks eyes with Grogu and the baby waves one fat fist, a piece of paper trapped in his fingers.

“Yeah, this won’t work,” he agrees, moving the car seat to the main basket.  “We’ll just pile the groceries around you. We don’t need much right?”

He sneaks the list away, trading it for the plush frog you had brought over one night, the first toy Grogu had reached for all on his own. The plan had been to do this together, the three of you. Your first trip out with the newest addition to your team. You had even helped with the list, the items written out in your neat handwriting, just as clear as when you write out his surgical schedule for him. God, you were good to him. So when he came out of the bedroom after getting the baby dressed to find you asleep on the couch, he couldn’t bear to wake you. You had both been burning the midnight oil, you especially, picking up shifts with other surgeons while Din used up the countless hours of PTO he had accrued over the years. He scrawled a quick note to you and covered you with a blanket before heading out.

“A team of two, we can do this,” he says to the baby as he pushes the cart towards the first aisle.

Din approaches grocery shopping the same way he does every other task: get in, get what you need, get out. No fussing about the aisles, no checking prices and coupons, no looking for anything new to try. It turns out shopping with a baby is a little different. He keeps stopping to check in on his small shopping partner, wiping at his cheek with the hem of his shirt when he spits up, checking his diaper, making a silly face at him just because it feels good. Things get a little hairy when Grogu begins crying, his constant need to be held finally kicking in. Din stands helpless, blocking the entire dairy section as he holds the baby tight to his chest, rocking him back and forth, just the way he likes. Once he settles, head tucked against Din’s neck, eyes closed, sucking on the frog’s foot, he continues on, shopping one-handed.

He needs to see about ordering one of those chest carriers First had mentioned last night.

The first half of the list takes almost an hour, and he doesn’t even realize it until his phone dings with a text message.

First: You went without me?

Din: You needed the sleep.

First: Whatever, Doc. Just hurry home.

His heartbeat picks up at the sight of that one simple word. Home. When was the last time he thought of that tiny apartment as home? He had been living there since he started his residency; picking the building because it was five minutes from the hospital, giving him the edge of snapping up case after case, a huge advantage in a competitive field. It was one bedroom, too small for even one person, let alone two adults and a baby. You had offered to go back to your place a few times, but he simply ignored the suggestion each time you brought it up, and it wasn’t long before you dropped the idea all together. The three of you had been making it work for the time being, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt to think about something bigger. Grogu would need his own room eventually.  

The last few items were down an aisle he had never needed, and Din suddenly remembered why he had asked you to come. Diapers, wipes, formula, something called A&D; all the things you had brought over the night he brought Grogu home, mostly pilfered from the pediatrics floor when no one was looking. That supply had run out this morning.

“We’re lucky First assumed I’m an idiot, huh Grogu?” He teases as he looks back at the list, everything listed very clearly.

- Diapers size 0 (Get a box). - Baby wipes, Sensitive skin (Same as above). - A&D diaper rash cream - Enfamil NeuroPro Gentlease formula (The biggest can they have).

Once he had everything on the list, plus a pack of brightly colored pacifiers and a bottle of wine that didn’t look terrible, he headed to the check out.  Somehow he managed to get Grogu back into the car seat, the very act like defusing an adorable little bomb, and it was hard not to laugh at the site of the baby practically covered up by groceries, only his green knit hat and big brown eyes visible. He snapped a picture and shot it off in a text message, and your response was instant.

First: Din! Can he breathe under there?

“You’re fine, right buddy?” he teases, as he piles the groceries on to the conveyor belt.

“Bah!” was the baby’s response, and Din chooses to take it as a good sign.

When he pulls up to the apartment complex, you are out on the balcony watching for him. At the sight of his grey truck, you grin, running back into the apartment and out the front door to help. Once the bags are piled on the kitchen table, you quickly pull the baby out of his car seat and give him a quick kiss on his nose before leaning over and giving Din the same treatment. He grabs your wrist, keeping you close, letting your lips press together lightly. Grogu makes a noise, demanding the attention of both you be placed back on him. You smile down at him and when you speak, your words push Din’s heartbeat just a little faster one more time.

“I’m so glad my boys are home.”

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207 notes • Posted 2021-07-07 01:49:20 GMT

#3

count again.

@disgruntledspacedad @the-ginger-hedge-witch @dihra-vesa @djarinsbeskar @asta-lily got me out here committing crimes and giving me the dangerous confidence to share my dirty little Dr. Din Djarin thoughts with the world.

Warnings: M, sexy smuttish thoughts, cursing, surgical blood talk

“Dr. Djarin, we’re missing a sponge.”

He levels you with a stare, eyes dark, the rest of his reaction lost behind his mask.

“Count again.”

“We’ve counted twice. We’re missing one sponge.”

Din didn’t leave sponges in his patients. He didn’t make mistakes. He was the surgeon they called to fix mistakes. Frantic phone calls in the middle of the night to split a chest cavity open and piece back together a literal mess were his fucking bread and butter. His work was meticulous, his hands steady. He didn’t make mistakes.

“Did I black out or did I not ask you to count again? Out loud. Now.”  

He doesn’t shout. He doesn’t need to. He usually doesn’t have to ask for things more than once. You’re new to his OR, though not to this job. New grad nurses can barely look him in the eye, voices quivering with fear as they count, hands shaking as they try to remember the proper way to hand him a scalpel. Not you. You-oh-you may be his match.

Eyes locked on his, you reach again for the bucket full of blood soaked sponges. Voice steady, clear and calm, you count aloud to the silent operating room, beeping machines keeping cadence with your words. You end with a smug “49.”

“We opened five packages of sponges, each containing ten sponges a piece. Basic multiplication skills put the total number at 50. Dr. Djarin, would you like to check your patient before you close up or should I count again?”

Your eyes are blazing, accentuated by the fact that he cannot see any of your other features. Din didn’t need to. He’s seen enough. Enough to know he wanted to break you. Hold you down on an empty stretcher by the nape of your pretty little neck, pull down your scrubs pants, and fuck you into submission. He wants to split you open on his cock, carving out your insides until you’re begging him for release. To feel your venom tongue put to better use as he slams into the back of your throat. Could you match his intensity outside of this OR? He needs to know.

He looks down to his patient, eyes sweeping the area framed with blue draping. There it is. Trapped beneath the left lung, saturated dark red, almost invisible. He grabs a clean pair of forceps (like hell he’ll ask you to hand them to him) and carefully pulls out the sponge, dropping it in your offered basin. You look up at him, something glinting in the corner of your eye.

“50.”

216 notes • Posted 2021-06-08 19:02:32 GMT

#2

get out.

Summary: A new intern is starting and Din makes a point.  

WC: 2.3k

Paring: Dr. Din Djarin x Reader (First Assist)

Warnings: 18+, Heavy Smut, Unprotected sex (Please wrap it up before doing the deed!) Thoughts of cumplay, cursing. Be gentle friends. I never write the smut but I so badly want to be better at it.

Interns and residents honestly weren’t the worst thing in the world to happen to a hospital. The extra hands were always welcome and the chance to educate the next generation of surgeons was rewarding in its own way. But there were some drawbacks.

Baby doctors. Four years of undergrad, 4 years of medical school, two additional years if they go for a post-doctorate. That amount of education tends to encourage a cocky attitude. Coupled with zero experience tends to result in a few headaches from time to time: wrong doses ordered, poorly written notes, vent settings changed just for the hell of it, and a haughty attitude that immediately ruffled feathers.

It always ended the same way; crabby respiratory therapists refusing to leave the SICU for even a second, angry nurses torturing new doctors with millions of phone calls to check on things like if a patient should be wearing socks or if the blinds should be open in their room, and strange, sometimes dangerous medications being ordered.  

The intern on today, Toro Calican, Dr. Calican he had corrected you at the welcome mixer a few weeks ago, was all of the things that made doctors fresh out of school truly terrible. He was cocky, rude, assumed he had all the answers, refused to admit to making a mistake, and he would not shut up. About anything. Today it was his father.  

“Best ortho surgeon in the city. You want a new hip or knee, you go to my Dad. The revenue he brings in keeps this hospital standing, make no mistake.”

You were double-checking the surgical schedule against Dr. Djrain’s rounding list at one of the PACU computers, trying your best to ignore the seemingly endless amount of words spilling from Calican’s mouth. The charge nurse did not have your patience, turning to him and telling him none too politely to shut up, his patient’s were literally just coming out surgery. You couldn’t help but laugh. God you loved him.

“Did you say something, sweetheart?” You glance up at the source of everyone’s headache but did not make a comment in reply. You could only remind someone so many times that your name did not include any variation of sweetheart, babe, or baby. It was honestly easier to ignore him until actual medicine needed to be talked about. Calican, unfortunately, took this as invitation to keep talking.

“Hey sweet cheeks, while you’re in the system can you go ahead and write down all my room times for me?”

Every single pair of nursing eyes were now on the stupidest man alive. You do not look up as you hit save on your work, and begin gathering your things.

He rounds on you, blocking you from making your exit.

“We have surgery in 20 minutes, Calican. Dr. Djarin does not tolerate tardiness.”

“It’s Dr. Calican, and you’ll do to learn your place, first assist.”

You square your shoulders, and stare him straight in his beady eyes.

“Dr. Calican, men of much higher caliber have tried this act on me before. Why don’t you ask them how it went?” You push past him, heading straight for the scrub room of OR 5. Fuck it. You’ll scrub in without Din. You just needed 7 minutes of quiet and you needed it now.

Din didn’t have any feelings towards interns, bad or good. They came, they went. He didn’t take on students until surgeons finished their residency and applied for a fellowship, so as far he’s concerned interns are simply window dressing. An extra pair of arms in his OR that can hold a clamp if everyone else’s arms got tired. This one that was here today was clearly everyone’s least favorite. Calican was his name, like the ortho guy, Din thinks. The scrub nurses rolled their eyes every time he opened his mouth, and Fett had already told him to shut up once, and him saying anything unprompted was a strange occurrence in and of itself. Din wasn’t too worried about him though. What really caught him off guard was you. You had scrubbed in without him, already in the OR waiting for him, gloved hands clenching in front of your chest. He scrubs in alone, missing the sound of the second sink immediately, and it sets his teeth in a clench behind his mask.

“You okay today, First?” he asks as he takes his place next to you. You nod, but you keep your eyes on the patient, that familiar fire burning behind your gaze, as you call the room to a time out.  Time to get to work. It takes 15 minutes and 23 seconds for Din to realize what has your spine twisted and your attitude distorted.

“Your pretty good at this sweetheart. How many years of night school did you attend for this job?”

To your credit, you don’t respond. Din ignores him too, asking instead for you to get him a pair of forceps.

“How tight is the space, Doctor? I have the ophthalmic ones ready.”

“Perfect.” The work he’s doing is delicate, and he’s focused, so he doesn’t notice the bodies shifting slightly in the room until Calican is right next to you.

“Hey, sorry about the night school shot. You really do know your stuff.” You remain quiet, eyes fixed on Din’s hands.  Good girl.

“You’re a deadly combination. Smart and beautiful,” he keeps going. Fuck, Din wants to punch him in the face. The whole OR can feel it. The entire room is collectively holding its breath while an intern (who probably wouldn’t live to see his 30th birthday) hits on Dr. Din Djarin’s first assistant. It went unspoken, the claim he had on you, but every nurse, tech, and doctor could see it as clear as if the words were written across his skin.

“Come have dinner with me tonight?”

Din’s hands stop moving, his vision bright white as he waits to hear your reply.

“No, thank you, Dr. Calican.”

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268 notes • Posted 2021-06-13 23:11:27 GMT

#1

A Dr. Din Djarin AU

Summary: Dr. Din Djarin is the top cardiothoracic surgeon in his field. His work is meticulous, his judgment unquestionable. And then he get’s a new first assist, who couldn’t give two shits about anyone’s reputation. 

Notes: These pieces literally would not exist without the support of @disgruntledspacedad Jay helps come up with ideas, helps me brainstorm scenarios, and is all around the biggest support of this AU! This is 50% her baby and we are just two chaotic parents trying to raise it right. And if you aren’t on her blog checking her out, then I suggest you skip on over there now. 

Pairing: Din Djarin x female First Assist

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Cursing, Graphic violence. See individual pieces for more specific warnings. 

count again.

scrubbing in.

fix it.

get out.**

The Bar**

The Office**

Closing Time

A Day Off**

22 days

The Date**

Neck to Knee

Hey Kid

The Lights

The Offer

The Blanket

The Sweatshirt

Grocery Run

Halloween Candy

Thanksgiving

The Fight

glitter in the air**

Dr. Din Djarin Fanart

408 notes • Posted 2021-06-21 18:27:37 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #Long post #of course it’s all Doctor!Din #I know what the people love

[jimmythegirl]

Pedro’s Characters with Chubby Girls

For the sweet princess @sunshinepascal

Author note: I just wanna say I think every type of body is beautiful. Big, small, we are all worthy of love. It makes me really sad that as women we still receive so much judgment, mostly from other women about our bodies. You are all so beautiful and worthy of love. I love y’all. 

Max: Maxwell would think of your body like fine art, something that is delicate and beautiful. If he could put you up on a pedestal in his living room he would. He would worship your body, spending thousands of dollars on clothes that showed off the bumps and curves that you hated but he loved. His desk has photos of you in tight dresses and bikinis so that he can always be thinking about your amazing figure. The man who was so cold and stern somehow became so warm when he was appreciating your body. When you would get upset about wearing a dress before a gala or party he would wipe away your mascara tears, reminding you that you were better than anyone there, prettier than any of the bottle girls, outshining all the lights, he couldn’t wait to show you off in that dress and then rip it off when you got home.

Whiskey: Jack loves your curves. The way you squeeze into your favorite pair of jeans, or how you leave little to the imagination when your wear you booty shorts to bed. If he sees you in them they usually only stay on for 10 minutes. Same goes for just about anything that shows your thighs actually, oh lordy that man can’t resist your thighs. He just wants to spend hours kissing them, rubbing them, being between them. He loves having his hands on you. On your hips, or around your waist.  At first you hated it, feeling self-conscious. You’d constantly swat his hands away, “Sugar, there’s no need to be shy, you know I love you a bushel and a peck, every inch.” On days when your insecurities really got to you, he would lay in bed with you, gently stroking your hair, “You’re so beautiful, every inch of you, angel.” He’d whisper, “I know you can’t see what I see but you are the most beautiful woman on the earth. One day you’ll see it too, just not right now.” 

 Javi: When Javi first met you your body was the first thing he noticed. God, you were perfect. The things he wanted to do to that body. When you two would go out dancing, the way your body moved drove him mad. As you two got to know each other he realized your body wasn’t the only thing he loved. But when you wanted to have sex with the lights off is when he knew something was off. You tried to explain how you were self-conscious and how you didn’t like your body. But Javi didn’t understand, you were perfect, “mi amor.” He said softly, grabbing your face, “I want to see your beautiful body, okay? You have nothing to hide, you are so beautiful to me” 

Oberyn: Standing beside the other girls with slims waist, round hips, and perfect breast, you couldn’t help but feel self-conscious. You tried your best to cover your body as prince Oberyn and Ellaria looked over you. Once Oberyn noticed your discomfort he ordered everyone including his wife out of the room, “Come here sweet one.” He called, patting the empty bed space beside him, “What’s wrong little mouse?” He asked, stroking your cheek with the backside of his hand. When you confess your insecurities Oberyn assures you that you are by far one of the most beautiful women in all of Doran. He and Ellaria both treat your body with admiration as if you were sent by the gods. Oberyn always gives you baths full of flowers and oils, slowly pouring water over your skin as he tells you just how magnificent your body is.

Din: Din loves your body obviously, I mean I really doubt body shame exists in star wars and Din would love to be able to get some cushion for the pushin when he needs to take his frustration out. He always tells you you’re beautiful if you show signs of doubt, although I don’t think he’s as good with his word as Whiskey or Oberyn. He makes sure you know you are beautiful and loved and worthy because you are.

#javier peña #agent whiskey #agent whisky x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djaren x reader #oberyn martell #oberyn x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #maxwell lord #maxwell lord x reader

[miranhas-art]

Do you have plans to draw more Alligator Pedro? He’s so cute! 🐊

hello! Alligator Pedro comes and goes, I need to be in the right mood to draw his perfect chubbiness

Jokes aside, I didn’t know anyone liked him at all, but I can try draw him more it that’s so :D

#mari talks

[pascalpanic]

Ooh I would love to know who you ship me with. I’m in my late 20s, recovered emo who still rocks the goth chick aesthetic, dark hair, dark makeup, dark clothes. Fair skin and blue eyes. Pretty chubby, but I’m a well proportioned hourglass so I have curves in the right places.

I’m a Gemini, so I have my outgoing “life of the party gets along with everyone” personality, and my very quiet, reserved, “can sit at home and watch tv and not utter a word for a week if you let me” personality. I like to smoke weed to help manage my mental health. I practice some witchcraft, mostly just read tarot and have a modest little altar with crystals and candles and such. I love to play video games (my favorite is Diablo III), cook, sing, read, play and listen to music. My favorite bands are Nine Inch Nails and The White Stripes, but I have a very eclectic taste and a wide array of music i love to listen to.

I’m a mental health social worker by trade but I’ve done every job imaginable at least once. I’m a very “Jack of all trades” type, I can become proficient at pretty much anything.

One final fun fact about me is that I’m a classically trained musician and I sang for the Pope at the Vatican when I was 19!

first of all, you’re so fucking cool I must say...

I would ship you with Din Djarin!

Din is not very outgoing- he’s very much embodying the strong and silent vibe. He loves the fact that you can be the one to talk and be the go-getter, but he also admires that you can shut up; he doesn’t enjoy ramblers much. Din isn’t a very spiritual man, other than his belief in the Creed, so he’d think your tarot cards and spirituality is absolutely amazing and he’d love to get into it.

The darker aesthetic is totally kickass to Din- if he wasn’t wearing beskar, he’d probably dress pretty similar to you! It seems that you’d fit right in in the bounty hunter trade by appearances, but Din can’t help but laugh at how warm and kind you are behind the aesthetic. He loves when you wear clothes that hug your body, as he thinks you’re the sexiest thing he’s ever seen.

Please for the love of God let Din relax and smoke a little weed with you. It would take him some time to be fully relaxed around you to do it, but he just needs to relax as deeply as he can and that would do just the trick! He loves your music- loves the deep bass and the energy it conveys- but his favorite sound is your singing. It’s ethereal and beautiful and Din cannot get enough of it. Hearing it around the Crest is his favorite little surprise.

it’s a party! come submit a request UNTIL MIDNIGHT TONIGHT, CST, and I’ll ship you with a Pedro character!

#pascalpanicparty #din djarin