#pedro pascal fanfiction
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Guilty as Sin? — Chapter Seven
pairing: professor!javier peña x f!reader
rating: series is 18+ only, minors DNI, professor/student dynamic, oral (m!rec}, alcohol consumption, essentially just porn with plot, these two are in LOVE babes
word count: 3.8k
series masterlist
The restaurant Javi had picked out was attached to the lake resort, a casual steakhouse with balcony seating that overlooked the water. You watched the yellow lights from the resort dance across the soft ripples on the lake a story below in between glances at Javier. He’d chosen a simple navy blue sweater and dark jeans for tonight, a casual and absolutely fucking delicious sight that had you reaching for your wine to quell your thirst. Javier scanned the menu that he held in one hand while intertwining his fingers with yours across the table, the gesture doing little to settle the rapid beat of your heart.
Beyond the sex—which was certainly the best you’d ever had in your life—there was so much to love about him. He was kind, generous, an active listener, intelligent, and funny when he wanted to be, all put together in a stunningly masculine package that had your thighs squeezing together every time his dark eyes found you staring.
“What?” he asked, one corner of his mouth tilting up slightly. He brought your joined hands over to his lips, placing a gentle kiss over your knuckles before bringing it back to the table.
“You’re just very nice to look at,” you said, biting your lip to try and contain your smile. Javier laid his menu down before moving chairs to come sit directly beside you. You leaned into him, resting your chin on his shoulder as you shared your menu with him. “What looks good?”
“You,” he murmured into your ear before giving your temple a sweet kiss. “I’ve been trying to read this damn menu for ten minutes now, but I keep getting distracted.”
“Wonder why.” You shrugged, lowering your hand to his thigh just to feel him tense.
Javier leaned into your ear again, whispering, “Are you trying to make me lose my mind? Because it’s working.”
You grinned, completely lost in this blissful bubble the two of you had managed to create against all odds. “You know, I’m fine with ordering room service instead.”
Javier leaned back, raising his brow at you. “I was supposed to be giving you your first good date. What happened to that, you seductress?”
“Guess you have a point,” you said, giving him a soft smile as you carded your fingers through his hair.
“I usually do,” he quipped.
“On the other hand…” You smirked, reaching for his hand as it rested on his knee. Sliding his warm palm up your jean clad thigh—you were forced to change after Javi destroyed your tights—you locked eyes with him as you guided his hand between your thighs. “You should know I’m not wearing any underwear.”
Javi let out a soft, lustful sigh at your warmth. He cursed as he leaned in, holding your face in his free hand. You hummed into the kiss, feeling grateful that no one else had chosen to sit out in the brisk early fall air tonight. No, it was just you and him, the stars on the water, and a whole mess of feelings.
“Fuck, as much as I want to bend you over this table right now, we should probably stop before the waiter catches us,” he mumbled against your lips, sliding his hand away from your center and letting it rest above your knee with a gentle squeeze. He sat back in his chair, lifting the menu back into view while you eyed him with lust drunk eyes. “I can feel you undressing me with your eyes, cariño.”
“I could be undressing you with my hands,” you replied, turning away from him with a smitten grin. “But fine. I guess I’ll just have to pester you with more questions to distract myself.”
“I guess you will,” he said, fighting back a smile.
“Alright,” you laughed, biting your lip as you watched him study the menu. “How many girlfriends have you had?”
Javier raised a brow at you. “Serious ones?”
“Sure,” you shrugged.
“One,” he replied. “Through high school until the end of my undergrad degree.”
“So you’ve been single all this time?” You eyed him suspiciously, giving him a playful side eye.
“There something wrong with that?” he asked, leaning forward into your space, his gaze locked on your lips. “If I wasn’t single all this time then I never would’ve gotten to meet you.”
“What a line,” you laughed, earning a dimpled smile from Javi. “What happened between you and your ex?”
“She wanted more than what I could give at the time,” he answered, shrugging his shoulders. “I was young and just getting started in the world. She wanted marriage and a family, which I did too, just…not at twenty-three. I tried to do it, though. Proposed and everything, but as the months ticked by, I just…couldn’t. So I called it off, left town, and started my career.”
“Do you ever regret it?” you asked, no judgment to be found in your tone, just genuine curiosity. Javier shook his head, giving your knee a squeeze.
“No,” he said. “I meant it when I said if my life hadn’t played out this way, I wouldn’t be here. And here is somewhere I really fucking love being.”
You lifted your hand to his chin, pulling him in for another kiss. It seemed like you’d never get tired of this wanting you felt every time you so much as looked at him, let alone when he goes and says shit like that.
“Alright, are we ready to order?” The waiter appeared out of nowhere, catching the two of you mid-makeout. You pulled away from Javi with a bashful smile, reaching for the menu and choosing the first entree that sounded good. Javier opted to have the same, only switching out your choice of mashed potatoes for a baked potato.
The waiter left, taking the useless menus with him. “Interesting choice with the baked potato.”
“What?” he chuckled. “They’re the best way to have a potato.”
“Strongly disagree,” you gasped, clutching your non-existent pearls. “Fries are the best, mashed potatoes are second, and a baked potato might come in at like number five.”
“So this is our first argument,” he laughed. “I’ll let you have this one.”
“And the next, and the one after that,” you added, leaning back into him like a moth drawn to a flame.
“You can have them all as long as you keep looking at me like that,” he murmured, ghosting his lips over yours. You laughed, pecking his lips while wearing a lovesick smile. “So now that you got to ask—“
“Oh no,” you chuckled, settling back into your seat and bringing your drink up for a sip.
“How many serious relationships have you had?”
“One, really,” you said, scrunching your nose at the thought of Micah. “Serial cheater, sometimes called me mommy in bed, all around horrible.”
“Mommy?” Javier snorted as he took a sip of his beer. “Jesus. I’m starting to wonder whether it’s just your generation of men that suck this bad or if you just have really shitty luck.”
“You’re one of one, Javier Peña,” you said. “That’s why I’m hoping to keep you around.”
Javier smiled, taking a long sip from his beer. “Well, I’m not going anywhere.”
“No?” you asked, grinning against the rim of your wine glass. “Not even if I told you I’ve been known to snore every now and again?”
“Now that changes things,” he said, eyeing you in mock consideration. “I think I’ll learn to live with it. Or I’ll just get some earplugs.”
“Anything I need to be warned about?”
“I smoke and I’m a terrible cook,” he replied. “Also a bit of an insomniac, but it’s not like I’ll be getting any sleep anyways with all your snoring.”
“A match made in heaven,” you mused. “Aside from the forced-to-keep-it-a-secret part.”
“Maybe not for much longer,” he said, nervously glancing at his lap.
“What do you mean?” you chuckled.
“I mean…I got a job offer from the DA’s office,” he replied, his eyes bouncing back and forth between yours as he watched you take in this incredibly exciting news. “And I know it’s early, and things aren’t, you know, official with us, but I was already considering quitting teaching before meeting you, and now…”
“And now?” you asked, your voice hardly louder than a whisper. Javier took in a deep, steadying breath and gave you a boyish smile that brought out a dimple.
“And now all I want to do is find a way for us to be together without all this sneaking around and shit,” he shrugged. “I didn’t want to tell you to put any pressure on you or anything, but regardless of where you and I stand, I think I’m gonna take the offer.”
“When would you start?” you asked, tracing your fingertip along the rim of the glass as you tried to comprehend the fact that this man was willing to switch careers in order to be with you.
It had only taken him two months of knowing you to decide that you were worth that much, even if he didn’t know where the two of you stood. The thought alone was enough to have you ready to hand your heart over.
“After the semester ends,” he replied, his knee bouncing under the table as he continued to study your reaction. “I can’t tell what you’re thinking, so could you put me out of my misery and—“
“Javi, I…” You laughed, shaking your head at the miracle that was Javier Peña. “I’d do this thing in secret for a lifetime as long as it meant I got to do it with you, but the idea of getting to kiss you in public or even just hold your hand…it feels like a dream. So that’s what I’m thinking, that you are a really fucking good dream I don’t want to wake up from.”
Javier leaned in, giving you a kiss. “So I’ll take that to mean you want to do this thing for real?”
You laughed, nodding as you gave his lips another soft peck.
“All of it. Snoring and burnt dinners, included.”
You clung to Javi’s arm as you made your way out of the restaurant after dinner, tipsy on wine and Javier’s smile. He’d been whispering nothing but filth into your ear since he asked for the check, his lips grazing against the shell of your ear as you walked down the hall to your suite.
“You’re talking a big game,” you teased, nudging his shoulder with your own. “Maybe I have some plans of my own.”
“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow as he slid the key card out of his pocket. “And what are these plans of yours?”
“Well, to start…I’d like to get you out of these clothes,” you said, biting your lip.
“That’s doable,” he smirked, turning the handle of the door and swinging it open while keeping his eyes on yours. “Then what, hermosa?”
“Well,” you started, leading him into the room just to turn around and back him against the door as he let it click shut behind him. You slid your hands down his stomach to palm him through his jeans. “You’ve gotten to taste me a few times now, but I still haven’t gotten to taste you.”
Javier groaned, settling his hands on either side of your face as he kissed you. You moaned into it, your hands steady as they undid his belt and unbuttoned his jeans. Javier hissed, breaking the kiss to look down as you took him in your hand and gave him a teasing stroke.
“Is that what you want, Javi?” you purred, using your free hand to guide his eyes back to yours. Javi looked at you like you held the world in your hands, his brows laced together and lips parted in reverence as you gave him another teasingly slow pump. “You want my lips around—“
Javier cut you off with a groan, settling his hands on your hips as he walked you backwards into the room with his lips devouring your own. You smiled into the kiss, fighting back a laugh as he tripped over your feet, almost sending the two of you onto the carpeted floor.
“You’re so fucking…” His words trailed off as he let his hands travel up your curves before cupping the weight of your breasts in each. Your laughter faded into a soft gasp as he slid his hands back town to give your ass a squeeze, seemingly unable to decide on what he wanted to worship more. “You’re going to ruin me for all women.”
“Only fair seeing as you’ve ruined me for all men and myself, remember?” Javier laughed, kissing you once before stepping back to shed his clothes. You sat down on the edge of the bed, leaning back on your elbows as you watched him undress. “You’re so nice to look at, Javi.”
He laughed, taking his length in hand and stroking it while you devoured the sight with lust-blown pupils. “You’re gonna make me blush.”
“Looks like you’re already blushing,” you quipped, leaning forward to take over for him, stroking your hand up and down his angry arousal. “Is this all for me, Javi?”
He nodded, licking his lips as he watched you lower yourself to your knees in front of him. He stroked his thumb over your cheek as you stared up at him with an innocent look in your eyes—or, as innocent as you could look while stroking his dick. “Fuck. You’re so beautiful, baby.”
“Yeah?” You keened at the compliment, a love-starved woman being fed for the first time in years. “Do you think I’ll look as beautiful with my lips wrapped around your cock?”
Javier groaned, his cock twitching at the question. “How about you show me?”
You smiled, pressing a kiss to his reddened tip, the barely there touch causing his stomach to clench. Dragging the tip of your flattened tongue from base to tip, you wrapped your lips around him just far enough to tease before releasing him with a pop. “On the bed.”
Javier raised an eyebrow at you but obeyed, positioning himself on his back in the middle of the giant mattress. “You like being the one in control, hermosa?”
You climbed onto the bed, sitting between his thighs and wrapping your fist around his base. “Sometimes.”
“Then go ahead,” he urged with a smile. “Take control, baby. It’s all yours.”
You smirked, shuffling down to lay on your stomach as you twisted your hand up and down his throbbing cock just to hear him let out a soft hiss. Bringing your lips to his balls, you gave them a suck, your thumb swiping over the precum that leaked from his tip.
“Fuck,” he moaned, letting his head fall back against the pillow.
You released his balls with a pop, dragging your tongue up his shaft before taking him in deep until you were kissing your closed fist. You worked in tandem with your strokes, flattening your tongue along the underside of his cock as you bobbed up your head and down. Your spit-slick hand followed your lips with a firm squeeze that had his thighs twitching every time you reached his sensitive head.
“Shit, cariño,” he hissed, one hand cupping your jaw as he sat up on one elbow to watch you. You stared into those brown eyes that reminded you of warm molasses, relishing in every grunt and groan you pulled from his perfectly bowed lips.
You could’ve been there for a minute or an hour, a moment or a lifetime, but this thing between the two of you seemed to defy the laws of space and time. You weren’t hiding out in a hotel room counting the minutes until you’d have to return to secrecy. No, you were simply a woman worshiping the man who’d revived your faith in goodness, in love.
“Baby,” he moaned, brows furrowed and eyes fluttering with every sinful gluck as you swallowed him down your throat. “Baby, shit. H-hold on. I’m gonna come if you don’t stop.“
“I want you to,” you said, your voice hoarse and desperate.
Javier shuddered, nodding his head as he watched you take him back into your mouth, his hands now gripping the sheets as you increased your efforts. “Fuck. Fuck, I’m…fuck.”
You hummed, running your free hand over the expanse of his stomach as you held him in deep, letting him come down your throat. He tasted slightly salty, slightly sweet, and surprisingly addictive. You’d never particularly enjoyed the taste of someone else, but be it love or lust or sheer infatuation, you really fucking enjoyed Javi’s.
“Baby, fuck,” he rasped, running his hand over your hair as you cleaned his sensitive cock with your tongue, making a show of it. “Come up here so I can kiss those fucking lips.”
“But…I just—“
“Do I look like I give a fuck about that?” he asked, a rhetorical question given the raise of his eyebrow as he stared you down. “Come here, hermosa.”
You crawled up his body, leaving kisses up his stomach, chest, and neck before hesitantly ghosting your lips over his. “You’re sure it’s not gross?”
“Do you think it’s gross to kiss me after I eat your pussy?” he asked, placing a feather light kiss against your lips.
“No, I think it’s hot,” you replied, your voice a husky whisper.
“Mmhm,” he hummed, lifting his hand to rest on the curve of your jaw. “Dame un beso.”
You smiled, letting out a soft laugh as you leaned in to kiss him exactly how he wanted it. Deep, slow, and so fucking sexy you couldn’t help but grind your panty-covered core against his softened length.
“You’re too clothed,” he murmured against your lips, his hands sliding down to your ass to palm you through your jeans.
“Mm,” you hummed, kissing your way down his neck. “I’m busy.”
“Doing what?” he asked, reaching between your thighs to put some pressure on your clit as you rocked against his hand.
“Leaving my mark,” you moaned, sucking on the soft skin where his shoulder met his neck. Low enough to hide beneath a collar during class, but high enough to give you glimpses of it when you got him alone.
Javier hissed, rolling you onto your back. You laughed, combing your fingers through his hair as he unbuttoned your jeans and peeled them off your legs. He stared at the wet spot on your panties, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip. “Now I get to leave a few marks.”
“But I need to shower,” you said, coaxing his eyes back to yours.
“Am I invited?” he asked, hiking up the hem of your sweater to place soft kisses across your stomach. Something about him worshiping the part that brought you the most insecurity was so healing, especially after a relationship full of cruel criticism of your body.
“You’re always invited,” you replied, trying to calm the pounding in your chest.
“Alright,” he said, sitting back onto his knees. “I can leave my mark in the shower and then come back and do it again in this bed. And then in my bed, in your bed, in any fucking room I can get you alone in.”
“I’ll be covered in hickeys, then,” you laughed.
“I’ll only leave them where you and I can see,” he promised. “And only when you want me to.”
“You’re a dream,” you mused, pulling him back down for another kiss that would haunt your memories long after you died.
“How are we gonna do this once we go back tomorrow?” you asked, tracing your initials across his bare chest as you laid in the darkness with him. He’s just devoted an hour to getting you to climax after climax, the shower you took earlier only acting as a prelude to what he had planned for the bed. “Once I’m back to being your student, I mean.”
“We’ll have to be discreet,” he said, shifting to lay on his side, his elbow propping up his head. “But besides that…it’s just a normal relationship.”
“Except people in normal relationships can go out and not worry about being seen together,” you countered with a half-smile.
It wasn’t that you cared about going out or anything like that, but there was a gnawing insecurity that perhaps over time Javi would grow tired of the sneaking around and look for someone who he could have a normal life with, one that didn’t involve this much careful planning.
“It’s only for a few more months,” he assured, stroking his hand up and down your side. “Until then, we’ll just have to find ways to entertain ourselves while we hole up together. I already have a few ideas.”
“I bet I can guess exactly what kind of ideas are floating around up there,” you said, lightly tapping your finger against his temple. Javier moved to nip at your finger, earning a laugh.
“I was actually talking about showing you my Lego collection,” he returned with a smirk. “I just got the Death Star. Kind of a big deal.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” You giggled as he nodded.
“Dead serious,” he replied with a laugh. “It’s a good way to busy the mind, or at least that’s what I’m telling myself.”
“Does your mind need busying?” His smile faded into something more somber.
“Sometimes,” he confessed. “I saw a lot of stuff with the DEA, and sometimes the memories come back with a vengeance. Instead of chainsmoking and whoring around like I used to do, I choose to block out those memories with building the fucking Death Star. Healthy, right?
You gave him an empathetic smile, relating to the sadness in his eyes that he tried to cover up with humor. You, too, had a lot of memories to avoid touching, although they likely didn’t hold a candle to the shit he must’ve dealt with. Nevertheless, like calls to like. “I think it’s very healthy, actually. So healthy, in fact, that you’ve convinced me to join you. So it’s too late to take back your invitation, basically.”
Javier laughed, a bit of light fighting back against the darkness in his eyes as he leaned in to give you a chaste kiss.
“I…” He stopped himself, shaking his head as he stared into your eyes. “Nevermind.”
“What?” you laughed.
“I just…I almost said something I have no business saying,” he shrugged. “The kind of thing that’s supposed to take longer than this to feel, so I’ll wait, but…I feel it.”
You knew the feeling well, the four letter word dancing on the tip of your tongue all night. But it was too soon for that, too soon for confessions as heavy as the one that weighed on your heart. You were falling in love with him, quickly and helplessly and without thinking of what it would feel like when you finally hit the ground.
“Me too,” you said instead.
For now, it would have to be enough.
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gone to the dogs {chapter one}
Pairing: Boston QZ! Joel Miller x F! Reader
Summary: Bared teeth and instincts are all you have to defend yourself while out beyond the walls of the zone. And sometimes, you have Joel Miller, though he's just as apt to turn on you as anyone else.
Word Count: 2.5k
Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, canon typical gore, outbreak fic, age gap (only by about ten years), dark fic, dark joel miller, mean joel miller, joel miller is uptight, degrading language, sexual language, sexual proposition, violence, heated interactions, adult language, fighting, references to injuries, blood, one (1) instance of joel miller bashing someone's head in, gun use, gun violence, reader chokes someone out, reader is snarky, reader meets joel toe-to-toe with insults and it's amazing both reader and joel pov, lemme know if there are any i missed!
A/N: this is different by far than anything else i've written and shared. dark joel miller content tends to be so controversial sometimes but i've been wanting to explore this part of his character for quite a while. the reader insert is also far more...robust than any i've written but it's all so exciting! please lemme know what y'all think?
ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi
The tracks are faint, you’re barely able to make them out yourself as you crouch low to the ground and move your hand in the direction they look like they’re headed in.
“Hey, you missed somethin’.”
“The hell you talking about, there ain’t nothin’ to miss.” He’s suddenly hovering over you, his own footfalls silent despite the pain you know he carries in his back and the swagger he has to adapt to not irritate it. He’s shining his flashlight on the imprint you had managed to find among all the dirt and rubble, a barely there scrape in the dirt that could be mistaken for anything. His voice is harsh, degrading in tone as he scoffs at your find. “You didn’t find shit, stop trying to make somethin’ outta nothin’.”
“Yeah and I suppose the marks that look about the same depth and span out in an even trail heading north ain’t shit either, huh?” You ignore the heat of his legs clad in faded and dirt smeared denim far too close for comfort. It would be easy to brush against them if you turned just slightly. Straitening back up to your full height, you don’t step back as you aim your own light over the similar marks that lead down a narrow path between the scattered and broken bricks. “It’s someone’s staggered gait, would bet they twisted their ankle or knee and it’s dragging enough to leave ‘em behind for us. Need to trust the younger pair of eyes we’ve got out here.”
“Don’t mean it’s our guy.” Joel doesn’t budge, ignoring the double whammy insult, head turning back at the hush of wind sweeping between the crumbling buildings. He turns his light off, securing it between his belt and waistband on the back of his hip. You know he knows there’s some truth to your words with how he ignores them. A habit of his you picked up, silence in the wake of begrudging agreement. Never voiced lest someone overhear that he had his moments of amenable tendencies, even if they were very rare and far between.
“Could be.” You insist, you knew what you were doing. You knew how to get the damn job done and if he heeded your words even once, he would realize it could make the situation go a whole lot smoother than it had been. But of course he doesn’t, he’s as stubborn as you are. Something you loathe about the man who had become one of your partners. It was hard to trust him when he didn’t trust you, constantly at odds with the gruff way he insisted he knew better. It was beginning to get on your nerves, the days harder when you had to interact with him in such close proximity.
“Could be isn’t good enough.”
“Do you need a blowjob or something?” You turn slightly to face him, his strong profile highlighted by the dark golden hues of the setting sun.
“Excuse me?" He pinned you with a dark glare, not taking kindly to your question. He’s chest to chest with you now, hard expression aimed down at you as you don’t move an inch. You wouldn’t back down, never had before and wouldn’t now. He may be intimidating, but you were too in your own ways. Hell, the first encounter you had with the man ended up with your knife at his throat and your knee over his crotch.
Him and Tess had been in your apartment, staking out the smuggling ‘competition’ once they had arrived in the Boston zone. Coming home from a rather painful migraine after shoveling ashes of deceased people had been one of the highlights of the day, if such a thing could even be considered that, only to find two strange people rummaging around through your things. Joel hadn’t been prepared for you to turn on him first, thinking he had hidden himself well in the shadow of your door and following it as you slowly closed it behind you.
A warning shot fired off at Tess had her scrambling behind the beat-up couch in the middle of the room while you turned on him. Only after demanding answers from them and getting them from the woman as she crouched behind the furniture, had you backed down from a stoic Joel.
“You heard me. You're pent up and snapping at everyone, need some relief?" Tilting your chin up, you meet his dark gaze head on, smirk pulling your lips up on one side. His eyes dilate just the slightest bit before narrowing, but you caught it and he knows you did. His voice is the deepest you’ve ever heard as he slowly responds with only one syllable.
“No."
"I think you do. Don't think I haven't seen the way your eyes drag down my body when you're walking behind me.” A bold statement, but a true one nonetheless. His eyes were a heavy and heady weight whenever they did exactly what you taunted. The thrill of the older man merely looking at you when he thought you wouldn’t see it perked up your self-esteem in a way you weren’t completely immune to, even in the shambles of what the world had turned into.
"Delusional. you're a delusional little-“
"I’m not a little girl, and you damn well know that." You punch the tip of your pointer finger into his chest, the dirty denim warm from his body heat. He’s a big man with a big reputation and it’s hard not to feel powerful as you obviously found one of the weak spots of his soft underbelly. An attack dog, a guard dog, a rabid dog, they all had one thing in common. They were only as strongest as their weakest point.
And you think you just found his.
The mischief of the unexpected discovery must glint in your eyes because his brows furrow impossibly deeper. The frown lines around his mouth pulling his thick mustache down, though it does nothing to shield the pale pink of his full lips.
He scoffs again, a harsh sound from the depths of his chest. Smacking your hand away from him, he takes off to follow the trail he can see a little better now that you’ve pointed it out.
“Coulda fooled me.”
“Act like you’re hot shit around the zone, only reason people don’t mess with you is cause of me.”
“I was doin’ just fine on my own. Remind me again, who staked out who to scope out the competition?”
“Wouldn't let you touch me if I was at the end of a barrel, and it was my saving grace."
“Fuck off, Miller.” You spit back, unable to rise to his taunt even as you fall in line beside him. That one stung, you had to admit. It was your own stupid fault, for finding him so attractive. From his dark hair threaded with silver to the way he carried a lifetime on his shoulders.
But his attitude muddied it, he was no better than a lot of the men you had run into before reuniting with your brother. The end of the world bringing out the worst in people, just like you had never one to sling insults so harshly or tease people easily a decade older than yourself who could snap your neck with a well-placed grip. Just like you assumed the man Joel had been before all this wouldn’t have even dared to think of talking to a woman with such spite and malice, if his faded accent told you more than he ever would.
The trail ends just at the shattered glass of what was once a revolving door entrance to a skyscraper looms ahead. There’s fresh blood splatter and the bag of supplies stolen from where they had been hidden for you and Joel to pick up. Two shells from a gun lay on the ground beside it, and you quickly grip your handgun to survey the area for the culprit who fired the shots.
Joel holds up two fingers, your attention going to him almost instinctively as he motions for you to crouch and round the left side of what remains of the door and into the building after the drops of blood. His eyes are focused, his full lips a hard line as he nods once to make sure you understand him.
Only looking away once you return the gesture. He turns so his back is to yours and makes sure there’s enough coverage for you both with his own gun at the ready. As quietly as you can manage with what’s still hopefully inside the pack, you pick it up with your free hand and avoid as much glass as possible.
No shots ring out, no bullets lodge themselves into your shoulder or Joel’s, everything is eerily still as you both move in tandem to seek the protection of the building. It seems to be blocked off inside, large pieces of plywood secured over the doors that had once been for elevators. The emergency exit off the right barricaded with all the furniture that once filled the ground floor waiting area.
“Fuckin’ told you it was a trail.” You mumble as the conflict seems to be over, the body of the man who had taken off with your hidden pack behind the front desk. Fresh blood seeping from a gunshot wound to his neck and the bandage wrapped thick around his ankle. You don’t flinch when Joel brushes past you harshly to stomp the bottom of his worn boots into the man’s head or the sick crunch that echoes slightly in the open space. Ensuring he doesn’t turn if he had been infected.
He rounds on you quickly enough to stir your instincts, the fleeting fear of him doing the same to you flaring up and making you take a half step back at the fierce look in his eye. The words he practically growls at you making your heart stutter painfully in your chest, suddenly breathless at the combination.
“Would you shut your fuckin’ mouth before I shut it for you? Tired of hearing that shrill voice all the god damn time.”
You huff, trying to play off the fear as indifference, shoving the bag of supplies at him. He doesn’t move to catch it, allowing it to hit him square in the chest, the pills and bullets contained inside rattling as the entire thing fell to the ground with a thunk.
Joel could only watch as you stalked off without another word, shoulders tense and hands shoved deep in the pockets of your jacket. He had seen the dilation of your eyes, the way your chest had risen with a quick inhale at his intensity. He had scared you.
That was new and he wasn’t sure if he liked it any better than you teasing him about being uptight and needing a little bit of pleasure in his life. An unpleasant lump rises in his throat and he tries to swallow it down.
Frowning, he bends to pick up the fallen pack, shoving it into his own nearly empty one before following after you. The silence that had fallen allows him to pick up the faint sound of labored breathing. But it isn’t coming from you up ahead.
It must’ve registered as a third person in the same instant for you because you’re turning to him with a finger pressed to your lips as you crouch behind a chunk of blasted concrete, gun already in hand. He mirrors you, reflections of each other as you each move around the barrier and take an assessing peak around respective corners.
Another man is laid out a few yards away, upper body slumped heavily on against the tire of a rusted car.
He’s barely alive, his breath rattling in his chest at a timbre that could only signal his impending death. A stark sound he recalls from a time long ago, both painfully fresh and numbed by years of oppression. He blinks the sound away, eyes closed for barely a second before you’re closing the distance with quick and quiet movements. A lunging dog at the sight of a threat. Constantly poised to take out anything that challenged the life you clung to.
It’s a reminder of why he willingly works with you, the way your smaller hands close around the man’s neck and clench. Shoulders displaying the strength you possess even with rationed food and improper amenities for life. If he wasn’t on your side, you would turn those same hands on him without a second thought. You had the first time you had met, when he had willingly gone into the den you had created for yourself in search of answers. In search of the name people gave when asked about who had the most knowledge on how to sneak out of the zone he now resides in.
He watches as you pick the man’s corpse clean, ration cards going in your pocket that he doesn’t think to demand a fair share of. Of the gun you hold out to him in silent offer.
No words are exchanged as you lead him back to the perimeter of the zone as the sun dips completely below the horizon. Moonlight illuminating your body effortlessly slinking and squeezing into places you had picked out that would allow for him to do the same with little trouble. You knew the operations of the zone, hell you probably were the reason some of them were orchestrated the way they were. The fear he had seen in you may have been fleeting, a response that allowed you to recognize the threat he could pose to you as well, but the way he admired your will to survive was not.
You only stay at his side long enough to relay the run to Tess, who had stayed behind and worked to ensure an alibi for you both. Signing your names and hers with one of the soldiers who traded with you on the roster in a perfect imitation of keeping up appearances for the demanded duties of all that reside in the zone. The ration cards slid into your back pocket are handed off to the older woman, no words or sounds coming from you before you slink out the door to their shared excuse of an apartment and down the hall to yours.
But he knew better than to think it was with wounded pride and your tail tucked between your legs, because he could hear the way you moved about your own space through the thin walls as if it had just been another day. Tess is watching him as his head tilts where he slumps on the couch, ears following the shuffle of your steps and the sound of clinking as you go about your own business. When he turns to meet her gaze, it’s unreadable but she doesn’t ask the reason for his short run down of what happened or the silence you had fallen into.
next chapter
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#dev writes#fic: gone to the dogs#tlou#tlou fanfiction#the last of us#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#dark joel miller#qz daddy#qz joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#mean joel miller#grumpy joel miller#joel miller fanfic#joel miller series#joel miller fic#boston qz#dark content#new series#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal fandom
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𝕿𝖜𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝕿𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘
screencaps and gifs: Pinterest
Pairing: dark!Joel Miller x Fem!reader
Warnings/tags: MDNI 18+, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, BLOOD, Auctioning people, talks of BDSM, talks of virginity, talks of STD and STI tests, Dom and Sub dynamics, underage drinking (20), THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION, YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME
Summary: 20,000 dollars in student debt can lead to irrational decisions, like engaging in a questionable discussion when a friend who is knowledgeable about BDSM mentions an auction she's attending.
WC: 3.6K
A/n: the first of the new and improved version of my mister miller fic🫶🏻
Cold and heartless, Dr. Richards, your financial aid advisor, was a stern woman. You had expected that, considering the difficulty of having to inform hundreds of students about whether they could afford to continue their college careers or not. Last week, you discovered an unpaid dues notice from the school when you were looking through your financial reports. You had thought that all your dues were covered by a creative writing scholarship and financial aid.
Dr. Richards set your papers down and sighed, taking off her glasses and looking at you with an unexpected hint of pity. "Would you like me to be kind or blunt?" she asked, her voice steady but softened by the weight of bad news.
Your hand slapped to your forehead instinctively as dread pooled in your stomach. "Blunt," you muttered, bracing yourself.
"You're $20,000 in debt," she continued without missing a beat. "The total cost of your first year was $40,000. $20,000 was covered through financial aid and the scholarship, but if you wish to continue, the remaining $20,000 has to be paid by the start of next semester."
Shock and anger twisted inside you, making your vision blur. "Three months?!" you exclaimed, your voice rising with panic. "How am I supposed to afford that? I can barely afford anything as it is."
Dr. Richards leaned back, her eyes holding a mixture of sympathy and resignation. "I understand this is difficult, but the reality is, you need to find a solution quickly. Perhaps a private loan, more scholarships, or even a part-time job."
The office walls seemed to close in around you, the air thick with the weight of impossible choices. You stood up, feeling the urgency of time slipping through your fingers. "I'll figure something out," you said, your voice a brittle whisper of determination.
As you stepped out into the corridor, the gravity of your situation bore down on you. The campus buzzed with the usual life of students, oblivious to your internal turmoil. Every step you took felt heavier, each echoes a reminder of the $20,000 chain now dragging you down.
Night fell as you wandered the campus, lost in thought. The familiar paths seemed alien, shadows stretching long and menacing under the flickering streetlights. Once you made it back to your cramped dorm room, you opened the door and flopped onto your bed without even glancing at your roommate, Faith.
"Whoa, are you okay?" Faith asked, concern lacing her voice.
You lifted your head from the bed just enough to reply. "Remember the financial notice I got last week? Turns out I'm $20,000 in debt, and I didn't even know. Ugh, I should have read the papers more thoroughly." You sunk your head back into the thin, scratchy comforter on your bed, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on you.
Faith sat down on the edge of her bed, her eyes wide with concern. "That's... a lot. What are you going to do?"
You sighed deeply, the sound muffled by the comforter. "I have no idea. Three months to come up with twenty grand? It feels impossible."
Faith was silent for a moment, the tension in the room thickening. Finally, she spoke, her voice a mix of determination and desperation. "We'll figure something out. There has to be a way."
You nodded weakly, and Faith gently moved your shoulders to get you to sit up. She sat next to you and nudged you playfully. "Maybe a sugar daddy? You're a hot 20-year-old with a banging body," Faith joked, her mischievous grin breaking through the tension.
You managed a small smile, though part of you wondered if she was actually being serious. Faith was always open about her sex life, unlike you. You were a virgin, but the thought of a sugar daddy did sound appealing in your desperate situation.
"Yeah, right," you replied with a chuckle, though the idea lingered in your mind longer than it should have. Faith's laughter filled the room, a momentary reprieve from the oppressive worry.
Faith stood up abruptly before walking to her laptop and bringing it over to you. "A Twilight marathon isn't going to fix this," she cut you off, her tone serious, as she settled beside you.
"I know, I know... but," she hesitated, her expression grave, "well, I might have a solution." With a look of persuasion, she showed you her laptop screen, displaying a website named 'Twisted Temptations.'
"Your BDSM club?" you blurted out, taken aback.
"Okay, okay, listen," Faith hurried to explain, sensing your shock and disapproval. "We're doing this auction... You get 10% of whatever they bid for you."
You stood there, frozen in disbelief, waiting for Faith to continue. "How do you think I paid for college and..." she paused, choosing her words carefully, "most don't even want sex. You should at least look at the application."
You shook your head, doubt clouding your thoughts. "I don't know, Faith. This is so out of my comfort zone."
Faith moved closer, her expression softening with concern and determination. "Listen, I wouldn't suggest this if I didn't think it was safe. The club is strict about boundaries. You set the limits, and they are respected. Plus, I'll be there to guide you through everything."
You glanced at the laptop screen, the application form open and waiting. The prospect seemed overwhelming, yet there was a glimmer of hope—an unconventional solution to your daunting financial problems.
Faith sensed your hesitation and continued, "I know it's a big step, but think about the benefits. You need the money, and this way, you control what happens. You set your limits and preferences, and everything is mutually agreed upon with your partner. Trust me, you'll be safe."
You took a deep breath, considering her words. "But what if something goes wrong?"
Faith smiled reassuringly. "It won't. The club has strict rules and procedures to protect everyone involved. I'll help you with everything—filling out the application, setting your boundaries, and making sure you're comfortable. You won't be alone in this."
The weight of your financial troubles pressed down on you, and Faith's unwavering support felt like a lifeline. You sighed and sank onto the bed next to her. "Alright, I'll do it, but you have to help me. I don't want something to go wrong."
Faith's eyes lit up with excitement. "It won't," she assured you confidently. "Let's get started." She quickly filled in your name, age, and other essential details, then looked at you with a reassuring smile. "Okay, now we need to talk about your preferences and limits. This is really important."
You nodded, feeling a mix of apprehension and curiosity. "What kind of preferences?"
Faith glanced at the screen, scrolling down to the next section. "Let's start with the basics. Are there any absolute no-go areas for you? Things you absolutely won't do?"
You bit your lip, feeling a flutter of nerves. "Well, I'm a virgin, but I'm ready to...you know, not be. I just don't want to do anything I'm not comfortable with."
Faith nodded, her expression serious but supportive. "That's totally okay. You can specify that you're new and what your limits are. Many people in the club respect that and will help you explore at your own pace."
She typed as she spoke, checking off boxes and filling in fields. "What about things like light bondage, sensory play, or role-playing? Have you ever thought about those?"
You blushed slightly, feeling a mix of excitement and fear. "I've never tried any of it, but I guess I could be open to light stuff. Nothing too intense to start."
Faith smiled encouragingly. "Perfect. We'll start with light bondage and sensory play. You can always update your preferences later as you get more comfortable."
She continued filling out the form, asking about your comfort levels with different activities, safe words, and any medical conditions or allergies. You answered as best as you could, relying on Faith's guidance and the snippets of information she'd shared with you over the years.
"Remember," Faith added, "most of what you like and don't like is decided mutually between the dom and sub. Communication is key. You'll discuss your limits and preferences with your partner beforehand, and you can always say no if something doesn't feel right."
Faith noted your availability and reviewed the application one last time. "Alright, I think we're all set. Ready to submit?"
You took a deep breath, nerves, and excitement swirling within you. "Ready."
Faith clicked the submit button, and the screen flashed a confirmation message. She turned to you with a grin. "Welcome to Twisted Temptations. You're going to be great."
As you sat there, a mix of relief and apprehension settling over you, Faith squeezed your hand. "Remember, you're in control. This is about exploring your boundaries and discovering what you're comfortable with. And I'll be here every step of the way."
You nodded, and Faith smiled. “The auction will be held next week. You’ll need to get an STD and STI test done, and you desperately need to get something sexy.”
You gasped at Faith. “I own sexy clothes?”
Faith giggled and walked over to the closet. "Well, maybe not yet, but that's what I'm here for."
She flung open the closet doors and began rifling through your clothes. After a moment, she pulled out a baggy hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, holding them up with a look of mock horror. “Unless you plan on seducing someone with the allure of ‘Netflix and no chill,’ we need to do some shopping.”
You couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, okay, point taken. But where am I supposed to find something sexy?”
Faith’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Leave that to me. We’ll hit up the mall tomorrow, and by the time we’re done, you’ll have an outfit that’ll make jaws drop.”
You felt a mixture of excitement and dread. “Fine, but no leather. And nothing with feathers. Or sequins. Or—”
“Relax,” Faith interrupted, still laughing. “I know just the thing. You’ll be sexy, not sparkly.”
As Faith closed the closet doors with a flourish, she turned back to you, her expression turning serious. “But seriously, the tests are important. We need to make sure you’re safe and everything is in order.”
You nodded, the gravity of the situation sinking in again. “I’ll make an appointment first thing tomorrow.”
Faith grinned and flopped down on the bed beside you. “Great. Now, let’s watch a terrible rom-com to celebrate your big decision. It’ll be our last bit of normalcy before you become a sex goddess.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but smile.
Faith and you decided to Uber to the auction. The city lights blurred past the window as you fidgeted with the hem of your newly purchased dress. Faith noticed your nerves and squeezed your hand reassuringly.
“Alright,” she said, her tone both calming and excited, “let me walk you through what’s going to happen tonight.”
You nodded, trying to focus on her words instead of the churning anxiety in your stomach.
“When we arrive at the venue, we'll check in at the front desk. They'll hand you your papers and auction number,” Faith explained. “Then, we can mingle and meet some of the other participants. It's like a real auction party, so don't be shy about striking up conversations.”
You took a deep breath, feeling slightly reassured. “And when does the bidding start?”
Faith grinned. “Bidding starts at 10 PM sharp. That's when the real excitement begins.
As the Uber came to a stop outside the venue, I looked out the window at the unremarkable building that awaited me. Faith led the way, exuding confidence as she stepped onto the sidewalk.
Stepping into the venue, anticipation swirled around me like a gentle breeze, mingling with the soft melodies of background music. The interior whispered of understated elegance, with dim lighting casting enchanting shadows across the polished floors and plush furnishings. Faith guided you towards the check-in desk, where attendants bustled about with papers and pins. You exchanged a nervous glance, excitement bubbling beneath the surface as you approached the desk.
“Welcome,” greeted the attendant with a warm smile, “may I have your names, please?”
You and Faith exchanged introductions before the attendant handed you each a set of papers and pins to attach to your dresses. With a playful grin, Faith nudged you and held up her pin, wiggling it teasingly.
“Alright, partner in crime,” she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief, “let’s get these on and make sure we’re looking sharp for the auction.”
You chuckled, feeling a surge of affection for your friend as you both leaned in to help each other attach the pins to your dresses.
With your pins securely fastened, you and Faith made your way toward the main ballroom. The air seemed to buzz with an undercurrent of excitement and anticipation. As you approached the entrance, the grandeur of the room came into view.
The ballroom was a striking blend of opulence and decadence. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm, golden glow over the space, illuminating velvet drapes in deep, sensual hues that lined the walls. The polished marble floors reflected the ambient light, creating an almost surreal atmosphere. Guests mingled in clusters, their laughter and hushed conversations weaving a tapestry of sound that filled the room.
At one end of the ballroom stood a grand stage, draped in rich, crimson fabric and adorned with luxurious golden trim. The stage was set for the auction, with a sleek podium at the center and rows of plush chairs arranged in front, ready for the evening’s main event.
As you stepped further inside, the scene grew more intense. The guests were an eclectic mix, their attire ranging from sophisticated evening wear to daring, barely-there outfits that left little to the imagination. Leather, lace, and latex dominated the fashion choices, with some attendees adorned in intricate harnesses and collars, their outfits hinting at the BDSM theme of the event.
Faith squeezed your hand one last time before she was swept away by a familiar face, her confident stride never faltering. You stood there for a moment, feeling a sudden pang of anxiety as the crowd seemed to close in around you. The noise, the lights, the sheer number of people—it was all too much at once.
Your heart raced as you tried to navigate through the sea of faces, each one strange and intimidating. The grandeur of the ballroom that had seemed so captivating just moments ago now felt overwhelming. You took a deep breath, attempting to steady yourself, but the sensation of being out of your depth only intensified.
The guests were like nothing you had ever seen before. A man in an immaculate tuxedo strolled by, a jeweled mask obscuring his eyes, while a woman in a full-body latex suit and stiletto heels sauntered past, her movements deliberate and commanding. A couple nearby caught your eye: the woman wore a sheer, flowing gown, her partner trailing behind her on a leash, wearing nothing but leather shorts and a collar.
In one corner, a group of people had gathered around a figure suspended in a rope harness, their intricate knots both artistic and functional. Soft moans and murmurs of appreciation floated through the air as the person twisted slowly, lost in the sensations the ropes provided. Another attendee, dressed in a sharp, tailored suit, held a riding crop, playfully tapping it against their thigh as they chatted with a scantily clad submissive whose eyes never left the ground.
Guests lounged on plush sofas, some openly engaging in power play dynamics. A woman in a sleek corset held a leash attached to a submissive kneeling beside her, while another couple whispered intimately, their hands exploring each other's bodies with practiced ease. The atmosphere was charged with an erotic energy, a palpable sense of anticipation for what the night would bring.
As you continued to weave through the crowd, searching for a familiar face or a quiet corner, the overwhelming nature of the evening began to settle heavily on your shoulders. The mix of luxury and raw sexuality, the boldness of the guests, and the anticipation of what was to come all blended into a dizzying mix that left you feeling adrift.
In that moment, you longed for Faith's reassuring presence, her confident guidance. But she was somewhere amidst the throng, leaving you to navigate this new and intimidating world on your own. You felt a prickling sense of vulnerability, the realization that you were truly stepping into uncharted territory sinking in as you tried to steady your breath and find your footing in the extravagant chaos surrounding you.
So, like every college student in a social bind, you made a beeline for the bar. "Shit," you muttered, realizing you had left both your fake and real ID back in the dorm. Trying to muster some confidence, you approached the bar, hoping your outfit might be convincing enough. You sidled up next to a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair, dressed impeccably in a well-tailored suit. You could catch the faint scent of pine and campfire from his cologne.
Putting on your best flirty face, you addressed the bartender. He was the complete opposite of the man beside you—average height, slightly taller than you, skinny, tattooed, and wearing an ill-fitting button-up uniform top. His head was shaved clean. "One shot of Tito's, please," you said, playing with your hair in an attempt to seem older and more sophisticated.
The bartender chuckled. "ID, please?"
You leaned forward, arms together to emphasize your cleavage. "ID, really?" you said, trying to be as seductive as possible.
The bartender looked tempted but quickly shook his head. "No ID, no alcohol," he said firmly, turning away.
You groaned in frustration, which caught the attention of the man next to you. He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He was older, that was clear, but he looked good. His stubble was neatly trimmed, his curly hair slicked back in a way that seemed both effortless and intentional, and his eyes were large and expressive.
"So, no ID?" he asked, his voice warm and slightly amused.
You smiled back. "No, but a girl can try."
He set down his glass of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the light. "Well, how old are you then?"
"Twenty," you admitted, locking eyes with him.
Before you could continue the conversation, Faith appeared, grabbing your arm and pulling you away from the bar. "What were you doing talking to Joel Miller?" she asked, her voice a mix of shock and concern.
You glanced back, watching Joel as he turned back to his drink. "Just chatting. Why?"
Faith handed you a pamphlet and opened it to a specific page. "Page four," she instructed.
As you skimmed the page, she continued, "Joel is... intense. He's someone to shy away from until you're more experienced. Trust me on this."
Your eyes widened as you read the details. "Intense" was an understatement. "So, who's the safe bet?" you asked, feeling a bit overwhelmed.
Faith's face softened. "His brother, Tommy. He's more laid-back and a better choice for someone starting. You'll find him much easier to talk to."
You sighed, glancing back toward the bar. "Guess I dodged a bullet, huh?"
Faith smiled. "Yeah, you did. Now, let's find Tommy and get you introduced. He's around here somewhere."
Joel suddenly appeared as you and Faith navigated through the crowd, stopping you both dead in your tracks. "Tito's," he said, handing you a glass with a wry smile. He glanced at the number pinned to your dress before walking away, leaving you stunned.
"What was that about?" Faith immediately questioned, her eyes wide with surprise.
Before you could respond, a voice boomed from the auction podium. "May all the products please make their way backstage."
Faith turned to you, her expression shifting from curiosity to urgency. "We'll talk about this later. Right now, we need to get backstage."
Your heart pounded as you nodded, clutching the glass of Tito's Joel had given you. You downed it in one gulp, hoping it would calm your nerves, then handed the empty glass back to Faith. She gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. "You'll be fine. Just remember what we talked about. You're in control."
With a deep breath, you joined the other "products" making their way to the designated area. The backstage was a flurry of activity, with organizers checking names and numbers, and participants adjusting their outfits one last time. The air was thick with anticipation and a hint of perfume mingled with the scent of leather.
An organizer approached you, checking your number against his list. "You're number 3, correct?" he asked.
"Yes," you replied, your voice barely audible over the din of conversation and last-minute preparations.
"Great. Just wait here until you're called," he instructed, pointing to a row of chairs along the wall.
You sat down, your mind racing. Faith's words echoed in your head: "You're in control. You decide your limits." The reality of what you were about to do began to sink in, but you steeled yourself, determined to see it through.
As you waited, you couldn't help but think about Joel. His unexpected gesture with the Tito's, the way he had looked at you—something about him intrigued and unnerved you. But Faith's warning was clear: he was intense, someone to be cautious around. Your thoughts were interrupted by a tap on your shoulder.
"Number 3, you're up next," the organizer said.
You stood up, smoothed out your dress, and took a deep breath. As you stepped towards the stage, the curtain drew back slightly, giving you a tantalizing glimpse of the auction room. The ambient lighting cast a soft glow, illuminating the expectant faces of the bidders, their anticipation palpable in the air.
Stepping into the spotlight, you felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins. The auctioneer's voice echoed in the room, commanding attention as he announced, "And now, presenting number 3, starting bid at $500."
#the last of us#fanfic#sinfulmindjoyfulthoughts#joel miller#pedro pascal#joel miller x reader#pedro pascal characters#joel miller x you#tlou#joel tlou#joel miller smut#joel miller tlou#joel x reader#joel the last of us#joel miller self insert#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fanfic#dark!joel x reader#dark joel miller#dark!joel miller#joel miller x female reader#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal fic#jose pedro balmaceda pascal
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MAKING OUT WITH THE BRIDE'S FATHER - JOEL MILLER HEADCANONS ✨
No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader
A/N: the reason why I love Pedro so much is that he always makes me feel alive no matter how bad the situation is 💟
A/N #2: besties I'm so sorry about this Headcanon, I know it's sooooo bad, but I had the idea several weeks ago I think I don't really remember and I've been writing a little bit every day since but I went through a lot in a short time and I lost inspiration but at the same time it was really bothering me to see it lying in my drafts unfinished, I'm sorry it sucks, but I love you all 💕
• you met Sarah Miller when she was only a freshman girl, completely lost in her first day of college after she was dropped off and looking like a scared little deer even if she tried assuring you she was alright
• you were a few years older than her and you'd been there, so you pretended to believe she was alright but still offered her some help to get her dorm organized and simply find herself around campus; she quickly accepted it and that was how your friendship had started
• during the semester, you became one of Sarah's best friends; as you were always there to help her out, advise her or simply offer her some company or comfort the days she felt lonely and missed her family too much - you knew she didn't know her mom and she was raised by her dad and her uncle which you thought it was pretty awesome of them, but other than that, you didn't actually hear much about them, as you both often talked about other stuff
• and so the years passed and soon enough Sarah was graduating and marrying her college sweetheart, Ben, who'd been introduced to her by you during a party, so it was more than exciting to be invited to that beautiful party
• so you packed your bags, got yourself a decent place on Airbnb and went to Austin, to celebrate the wedding of your beloved friend, due to conflicting schedules, you could only get there a few days before the wedding, which ruined your plans of meeting Sarah's family, having dinner together and getting to the city, since the most you were able to do was just handle the last adjustment and details for your dress, help Sarah with the arrangements for the party and of course, party hard in her bachelorette party
• the bachelorette party was partially organized by you, as you never really knew how those things were supposed to go, other than just the scenes you saw in several movies, should you go to a male strip club? Should there be men half naked rubbing themselves against you and your friends? You weren't so sure, so you talked to Sarah and you picked a nice nightclub to dance and drink
• so you and your group of friends hit the club, all in your best clothes, nice heels and Sarah wearing a cute little party veil so everyone would know she was the bride to be. The night was perfect and you danced and drank as much as you wanted, knowing you could just call yourself a Uber to go home
• you stayed until the end of the party, your group of friends had all left home in different Uber rides and Sarah was picked up by Ben just some moments ago, so you grabbed your purse, paid for your part of your check and went to the parking lot, since your uber wouldn't take much to get there
• and that was when you saw him: easily the most handsome man you'd ever seen, older than you of course, tall, broad, brown hair salt and peppered and leaning against his truck. He seemed to be waiting for someone, but his attention was immediately shifted towards you, and he couldn't pay attention to anything else
• you just caught Joel's attention as you walked out of that bar; you didn't seem drunk or wasted, but definitely a little tipsy and while he wasn't a creep - Sarah had accidentally called him and asked him to pick her up and there was no way in the world he wouldn't come for his little girl, even if she wasn't little anymore and was going to be a married girl in a couple of days
• and even when she explained to her dad that she didn't mean to call him and he didn't need to pick her up because she was already going home with Ben - clearly drunk, which bothered Joel but he couldn't actually do anything about it - he said he was just going back to sleep, omitting the fact he was already at the parking lot waiting for her. She wasn't a child anymore, but he really missed when she was one because then, she would still be his sweet little Sarah wearing her cute star PJs to bed, and not exiting the club completely drunk like she did a while ago
• but all that whining went away in the blink of an eye once Joel spotted you, because he couldn't recall seeing a better looking woman at a bar in so fucking long, that or it was because he hadn't gotten laid in so long, his balls might've been blue but he wasn't just gonna empty them on the first woman he saw, so he just kept using his hand for it
• but you... He swallowed hard and decided to take a few steps towards you, after all, it wouldn't hurt just to make sure you were doing okay and no creeps were bothering you, because he wasn't a creep, he just wanted to make sure you were alright
• and when you saw Joel walking towards you, you felt your breath caught in your chest. He was so freaking handsome, big and manly, the kind of man to put you on all fours and fuck you while he whispers into your ear what a good girl for him you really are
• and you didn't remember much of your interaction with him, when you realized what you were doing, you were pressed against the hood of his truck, kissing him hungrily while his strong hands squeezed your body and roamed all over you; your hands messing up with his curls, tugging at them slightly as you moaned into his mouth, against better judgement you could let yourself be fucked by him at that moment
• however, you didn't even know his name, it was a dangerous game your body begged you to play, but your rational side was still too alert for it, so when you managed to see your Uber had arrived, you found strength in yourself to get rid of his intoxicating touch in your body and simply run to the car, you should've asked his name, but you didn't
• and the following days after that night at the bar, as much as you tried thinking of something else, all you could focus on, was that handsome man and the way he held you, he gripped your body and kissed you; it was different from any kind of touch you'd experienced, that mysterious man seemed addictive to you
• but as the wedding approached, your lustful thoughts had to be placed aside so you could focus on all the tasks you had to do: help Sarah get ready, check the venue for her and so on, not to mention getting ready yourself for the event, being so busy you totally skipped the part where you'd meet her family
• as you waited in church for her with the rest of your friends, you couldn't help but being extremely shocked to see Sarah walking down the aisle by her father, whom you had never actually seen before that night at the bar, but he happened to be your mysterious fling from the parking lot
• Joel also couldn't believe the hot girl he'd made out with was his daughter's best friend, he knew he was older than you even if you both hadn't much time to talk, but he didn't expect that
• you two had to stop those feelings aside so you could focus on the ceremony, but the way Joel kept glancing at you, made it pretty obvious you'd have a very interesting wedding reception afterwards 😉
____
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x y/n#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal headcanon#pedro pascal headcanons#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fanfic#joel miller headcanon#joel miller headcanons
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Too Sweet (18+)
No outbreak!Joel x Fem!reader
A/N: This idea came to me while listening to Too Sweet by Hozier. It's my first time writing smut lol I hope it came out well.
Summary: You wake up at 5 am to get ready for your shift at the hospital and find Joel downstairs drinking coffee. You can't go back to sleep so he has a few ideas to make you tired.
18+ Warnings: unprotected p in v, oral fem receiving, oral male receiving, joel likes to be dominant, age gap (at least 10 years), reader is submissive, breast play, size kink. not a warning but there's aftercare, a sweet moment after the intense session they had.
Word count: 7k
Hope you like it! Enjoy <3
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You woke up at 5 am, to start prepping for your shift. As a nurse, this wasn't out of the ordinary for you. On the contrary, it was a good day; you had managed to sleep a good 6 hours after a week of endless shifts, lots and lots of people filling the ER that had you speeding from one unit to another. One bed to another. It was exhausting, but you couldn't deny that you loved your job.
Still, you missed your boyfriend. Joel Miller. When you opened your eyes and patted beside you, the other half of the bed was empty. Taken back, you wrapped yourself on a robe and went downstairs to find him drinking coffee while reading a book.
"Joel.. what– it's five am."
You mumbled, rubbing your eyes while a yawn came out of your mouth.
He chuckled at how adorable you looked, your hair all messy and your voice still raspy from sleeping.
"Jus' wasn't tired."
He responded, and pulled you into his lap.
"But it's.. you should sleep. I don't understand your habit of always going to sleep at sunrise."
You spoke and buried your face in his neck, taking a deep inhale of his scent that sent shivers down your spine.
He wrapped his arm around your waist and kisses your cheek.
"I should ask you the same question, what are ya doin' awake?"
You looked at him confused.
"I have my shift today."
You told him, thinking it was obvious as he already knew.
"Sweetheart.. your shift is tomorrow. Today's your day off."
He mumbled and placed a strand of your hair behind your ear.
"No.. wait, today is friday, isn't it?"
"Nope, it's thursday, dear."
His confirmation made you sigh frustrated, you had mixed the days. But you were already up, and tiredness didn't seem to be settling back into you.
"Fuck.."
You whispered.
"I'm so dumb."
He chuckled and rubbed your back.
"You're not. Accidents happen. Go back to bed, darlin'."
"I.. I can't. I'm awake already, I'll be tosing around bed for like an hour before I even begin to feel tired."
You spoke, a hint of weariness behind your eyes even though you knew falling asleep again wasn't that easy for you.
"What about.. I help you relax?"
He asked into your ear, his voice a low purr that made your stomach twist with pleasure.
"And how do you plan on doing that?"
You asked, a smirk now adorning your face.
He lifted you up and carried you to the bedroom upstairs, while you laughed.
"Okay, okay. I understand."
You spoke with a smile as he laid you down in bed.
He took off your robe and threw it away, leaving you only in your underwear.
He hovered over you, one knee spreading your legs.
"You'll be exhausted after this, hun."
He whispered and started to kiss on your neck, nibbling at some point. You couldn't help but squirm under him, he knew your sensitive spots by memory now.
Your hands went up to his head and played with the soft curls there, scratching his scalp softly.
Your underwear was drenched, having just woken up you were more sensitive than you could've been at any other time in the day.
And he knew it.
His kisses trailed down your chest and he pulled out one of your breasts from your bra, groaning before wrapping his mouth against your nipple and starting to suck on it. His tongue twirling around it, while his other hand played with your other breast. Pinching your nipple softly, just enough to make your breathing go faster.
You arched your back and let out a moan, your nails now digging onto his back.
"There's my girl.. I wanna hear you, don't hold back."
He spoke, massaging both of your breasts before going lower, his mouth pressing kisses below your stomach.
You cursed under your breath and pushed his head, at which he let out a low chuckle.
"Needy, ain't ya? So impatient.."
He spoke in a husky tone and pressed his face against your sticky underwear, that showed a big stain.
He groaned and let out a soft moan, pulling your underwear until it was off of you. He threw it across the room, his hot breath sending tingles to your core.
"Joel.. please, fuck."
You whined, spreading your legs wider now.
"Shh, easy now. Who's in charge here?"
He asked in a more serious tone, looking at you. His eyes were dark, desire being evident behind them.
"Y-You are.."
You spoke, submitting to him almost instantly.
"Glad to hear."
He said and the tip of his tongue slid through your folds. You couldn't help but mumble some nonsense, your patience was running low as he took his sweet time to make you feel good.
Just as you were going to beg him, he buried his face on your cunt. His mouth wrapped around your clit and started sucking on it, his tongue going around it and twisting like his only purpose in life was to drive you insane by giving you so much pleasure.
You moaned his name, loud, which seemed to only motivate him more as he slid two fingers inside of you. So easy, as you were already drenched.
"Hands off, sweetheart. You know the rules."
He said as you started tugging at his hair. With a wine you complied, and placed your hands by your sides.
"You're being so good to me today.."
He mumbled as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, stretching you for what was next.
"Joel.. I need it now. Please."
You spoke desperately while looking into his eyes, which only seemed to darken even more as you pladed.
Without saying a word, he stepped back from you and took off his boxers, revealing his hard, throbbing cock. He was already on edge just by hearing you moan for him, and take in the taste of your core.
Hovering over you again, he spread your legs more. He placed one on his shoulder and gave you a wink.
You jumped and whimpered when the tip of his length aligned in your entrance.
"It's okay. Ya know how to take me well.."
He whispered as he started inserting himself into you, slowly, spreading you open.
Your walls tightened against him, as his long dick made its way into you.
He stroked you thigh softly, squeezing it without too much force.
"So good for me. You're so good."
He whispered and began moving slowly in and out of you, making your breath get caught up on your throat.
He pinned your hands on top of your head with one hand, while the other gripped on your hip and started going faster, circling his hips to find that sweet spot of yours.
You gasped when he found it, and he grinned at your reaction, only to start pounding into it with more force than before.
"J-Joel I ca– I can't.."
You whined, your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you bit your lower lip to try not to scream.
"No, no. What have I told ya?"
He said as he freed your lower lip from your teeth.
"But I–"
"I don't care."
He said and moved faster into you.
"I wanna hear every little sound that comes out of your pretty mouth, understood?"
He said, his dominant tone and demeanor made you get closer to the imminent orgasm.
"Y-Yes.. Sorry."
You mumbled while you rocked your hips against his, your stomach tightening and growing warmer.
He noticed the change in your breathing, your moans; it all indicated that you were close.
"C'mon baby, give it to me. Come on."
He encouraged you and his thumb started to rub against your clip, just enough to send you over the edge so you could reach that sweet release.
Your hands wrapped around him as you reached the orgasm, feeling how your walls were tightening around him, something that drove him crazy every time.
When you came down from cloud nine, you looked over at him. A few drops of sweat had formed on his forehead, his chest had freckles all over it; he looked so good helping you ride out the last seconds of your release.
"Take it out."
You demanded after catching your breath.
"N-No, sweetheart, I'm almost there, I–"
"I want it in my mouth. Now."
You spoke and his pupils dilated, nodding as he did what you said for the first time that day.
He laid down on his stomach, his chest rising up and down rapidly, showing how aroused and excited he was.
You wrapped your lips around his length, and started pumping it with your hand. Your tongue moved around his throbbing head, sucking on it until it was completely wet.
"Oh, fuck, darlin'.."
He groaned, his hands clenching onto the sheets until his knuckles turned white.
You pushed it deeper into your mouth, your lips almost touching his testicles at this point, which made him jump and let out a loud gasp.
"Sweetheart, I'm gonna– Please.."
That was all the warning he gave you before coming inside of your mouth, painting your walls. You continued sucking until the last drop of his release was out, and inside of your mouth.
You looked into his eyes as you swallowed, the salty mixture dripping from your lips.
He laid in bed exhausted, but still managed to pull you by his side. He wiped your mouth with his thumb, and cuddled you against him.
"That was.. so, so good."
He whispered, pressing a kiss on your forehead.
"You were the one trying to make me exhausted. And let me tell ya, it worked."
You chuckled as you put the blanket and the cover on top of you and him, wrapping you both in a cocoon.
He let out a small laugh and pressed his face against your neck.
"I'm always willing to make my pretty girl feel good."
He mumbled, his voice becoming raspy again. You could tell he was tired too.
You traced imaginary shapes on his chest, and scratched his scalp softly which made him let out a soft hum.
"Let's sleep, honey."
You whispered and he nodded softly. You chuckled, finding it too amusing when he was in that state of pure softness, letting his guard down so you could take care of him.
"I love you."
He mumbled, you could tell he was drifting off to sleep but still wanted to let you know you were loved by him.
"I love you too, hun."
You whispered and shifted your body until you were comfortable, letting yourself fall into slumber with him wrapping your arms around you. At that moment nothing else mattered, just you two.
#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x reader#tlou joel#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#joel miller smut#18+ only#smut#pedro pascal smut#Spotify
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strawberry sugar
pairing: modern!Oberyn Martell x f!reader
word count: ~1.8k
summary: Your boyfriend spoils you on your birthday morning. In some... unexpected ways. :)
warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, food play, dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving), ridiculous amounts of fluff
meant as a follow-up to delicate, but can be read as a standalone!
a/n: written for @iamasaddie's kinky writing challenge with the prompt food play for oberyn martell. it's already june 1st where i live, so here we go!
thank you @northernbluess & @luxurychristmaspudding for screaming about this with me, i love you <3
dividers as always by @saradika-graphics <3
find my full masterlist here and follow @janaispunknotifs for fic updates!
“Good morning, princess.”
The touch of soft lips kisses your closed eyelids, your nose, your cheeks and finally your mouth, gently stirring you awake. You hum quietly, contentedly, snuggling closer into your boyfriend’s warm arms around you.
“Hi,” you smile, your breath ghosting against his lips, before you connect them with yours once more.
It’s almost as if you’re still dreaming, enveloped by soft sheets and Oberyn’s warm embrace, the golden morning light flooding the room when you finally open your eyes. He’s already looking at you, your favorite crooked grin playing around the corners of his mouth. The dimple on his cheek is especially pronounced like this, making your heart flutter even after waking up next to him on most mornings for months now.
“Happy birthday,” he purrs, one hand coming up to cup your face, his thumb gently caressing the soft apple of your cheek.
Your own grin widens and you lean into his touch. “Thank you,” you say breathily, like speaking too loud might shatter the quiet peacefulness of the moment.
He kisses you again, lips moving against yours, giving you one swipe of his tongue against your bottom one before he pulls back, chuckling at the way you’re following to chase his touch.
“You stay right here,” he orders you gently as he swings his feet down to the ground and stands up, carefully covering you with the duvet that got ruffled with his movements. “Make yourself comfortable and I will be right back, yeah?”
You nod silently, your smile beaming by now. You watch his retreating figure, only wearing his black boxers, leaving most of his body bare on display for you. Cords of muscle are moving under his golden skin, the sunbeams falling through your windows are catching in his dark hair, still ruffled from the night’s sleep, and you’re mesmerized. You always are when it comes to him.
You hear his movements in the kitchen, the fridge and cabinets opening and closing, the clatter of something, and smile to yourself. When he had asked what you wanted for your birthday weeks ago, breakfast in bed had been your first response.
Sinking deeper into the sheets again, you grab your phone, reading a couple of messages congratulating you, laughing at the photo of your childhood self that your mom had sent you. A sweet scent wafts from the kitchen into the bedroom and your mouth waters.
Oberyn returns with a bowl of strawberries, another bowl of whipped cream and a stack of waffles, with a single burning candle on top of it. You giggle at the sight, scooching into a sitting position and helping him place the food on top of the covers.
He lifts the plate with the waffles to your face and, winking at you, tells you to make a wish. You close your eyes, the image of his face still vivid behind your lids, and blow out the flame. As soon as he sets it back down, you pull him in for another kiss.
“This is perfect. Already the best birthday ever. Thank you, baby.”
“Anything for you, my sun.” The endearment falls so easily from his lips, like he has no idea that it sends your heart soaring every time he says it.
He holds a strawberry to your lips, his eyes glued to your face as you take a bite. When you playfully nip at his fingers, the deep rumble of his laugh makes a home straight in your chest, filling you with warmth.
You watch him eat, watch his plush lips close around the fruit, his teeth sinking into it. His appreciative low hum at the taste in combination with the sight in front of you has you pressing your thighs together, your need for him always simmering just below the surface.
This must be what perfection is like, you think, looking around the room, taking in all the peacefulness that’s surrounding you right now. It’s almost overflowing, this love that you have for the man in front of you. And somehow, inexplicably, he loves you just as much.
When Oberyn’s teeth dig into another strawberry, he catches your gaze, must see the heat behind your eyes. He winks at you, deliberately slowly biting into the fruity flesh, licking his lips afterwards without ever dropping the eye contact with you.
“Are you full already?” he asks, a cocky smile playing around his lips.
“Not quite,” you tell him, eyes innocently widened. “But I got really hungry for something else just now.”
“Yeah?” he chuckles, pushing the food further away and reaching for you instead.
You meet him eagerly, pressing your lips to his hungrily. His hands are everywhere, spanning wide over your body, leaving a burning trail over your skin and pressing into your flesh so deliciously that you’re already breathing soft moans into his mouth.
His fingers slide under the shirt of his that you’re sleeping in, trail over the lace of your underwear until he’s right between your thighs. The fabric is already drenched there, clinging to your heated skin. He growls at your obvious arousal, licks deeper into your mouth while his fingers trace the shape of you over your panties.
He sits back, watches you with dark eyes as you blink up at him, breathless and pleading. You pull the shirt off of your body, baring yourself for him, hungry for the expression that you see on his face every time he lays eyes on you like this.
“My pretty girl,” he muses, still lazily stroking his fingers over your underwear, not swayed by your desperate whine.
He picks up one of the strawberries, dips it into the bowl of whipped cream and brings it up to your lips, watches with rapt attention when your mouth obediently closes around the fruit. It leaves bits of cream behind, and he’s on you in a heartbeat, kisses the mess away and licks deep into your mouth. You love when he pounces on you like this, his movements all gracefulness and unrestrained strength.
“You taste so sweet,” he whispers into your neck, nipping at the skin there.
You wiggle underneath him, trying to reach for a berry yourself, wanting to kiss the taste off his mouth as well. He stops you before you can dip it into the cream, one hand wrapping around your wrist, easily dwarfing it.
“I have a better idea,” he grins, all teeth, and a feral glint in his eyes. “Going to taste even sweeter.”
You watch in stunned silence as he finally peels your panties off of you and down your legs, then swirls two fingers through your wetness and sucks them into his mouth.
“So much sweeter.”
He easily plucks the fruit from your hand and moves closer to you, your legs easily parting wider around his broad frame. You whine his name, the realization of what he’s about to do slowly dawning on you. Your pussy clenches around nothing at the mere thought.
Oberyn leans over you, drinking in your every reaction as he pinches the strawberry between two fingers and slowly trails it down your body. You shudder at the unfamiliar texture when he reaches your nipples, circling the hardened nubs and chuckling at your responding moan.
“Does it feel good?” he asks, wide smile on his face.
“So good,” you breathe, arching your back trying to get more friction, “please, Oberyn.”
With a hum, he stops playing with your breasts and continues moving downwards. When he finally reaches your cunt, you’re dripping for him, wetness spread over your skin. He moves the strawberry through your folds with ease, eyes glimmering and glued to what he’s doing. You could almost come from the sight of his ravenous expression alone.
He brings it up to your face again, showing you the red fruit coated in your slick. Holding your gaze, his teeth dig into it. You moan at the sight, one hand tangling in his hair to hold him close, pulling him into you once more.
“It is even sweeter than I thought, princess.”
You crash your lips against his, your tongue licking into his mouth with the need to share this with him, to taste what he tasted. It is sweet, mixed with the tangy hints of yourself. He pulls back much too soon, mischief dancing on his features.
“Let me get you your own one,” he purrs, already reaching for the bowl again. “As a present, hm?”
You watch with wide eyes as he goes straight for your pussy this time, dragging a second berry through your wetness, nudging at your entrance and bumping against your clit. A high pitched whine leaves you at that, and he arches an eyebrow at you, a smirk growing on his face.
“I wonder…” He trails off, swipes the strawberry over your clit again, more purposeful this time.
You're helplessly aroused, your hips twitching at his ministrations. He steals another kiss from your lips, before he sinks down between your legs, nipping at the soft skin of your upper thighs.
Another kiss straight to your clit, a swipe of his tongue, until it’s replaced by the foreign fruity texture again, rubbing against you with calculated movements now. His tongue laps at your entrance instead, drinking up your arousal, before he fucks it straight into you.
Your hips almost lift off of the mattress, a cry of pleasure falling from your lips, and you grab his head with both hands, fingers sinking into the dark strands of his hair.
“Fuck,” you whine, almost overwhelmed with the sensations and white hot pleasure coursing through your veins. “Right there, please Oberyn, I’m so close–”
His responding groan sends rippling vibrations through you, pushing you right to the edge within seconds. It swirls around you, the scratch of his beard against your skin, the wild glint in his eyes at your every moan, so obviously relishing in giving you pleasure, the movement against your clit, his tongue right where you need him – taking hold of you and sending you flying. You come with a shuddering cry, clenching around his tongue and flooding his mouth with your orgasm, as stars burst behind your eyelids and full bliss overtakes your body.
Oberyn works you through it, not letting up until you’re weakly trembling underneath him, tugging at his hair once more. His face swims into view in front of you, a brilliant smile grazing his features. It’s sinful, the way his pupils are blown so wide his eyes are almost black and your arousal is sticking to his beard. You want to kiss and lick it off of him.
Instead, the taste of fruit and yourself floods your mouth once more, as he brings the berry, covered in your orgasm, up to your lips. You share it with him, tongues and limbs tangled together.
“I love you,” you sigh happily, wrapping your arms and legs around him, ready to let him consume you entirely.
thank you for reading! as always, comments and reblogs are love and mean the world to me <3
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#oberyn martell#oberyn martell fanfiction#oberyn martell x reader#oberyn martell x you#oberyn martell x female reader#oberyn martell x f!reader#pedrostories#janas fics#little lady kinky may
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Weightless | On Call
summary: your curtains are closed, truck silent on the drive. today of all days, you shouldn't be alone.
pairing: neighbour!frankie morales x f!reader
ratings/warnings: 18+, MDNI. dual pov. loooots of angst. active grieving for a dead parent. a very soft frankie. vibes are better in the next chapter lmao.
wc: 2.1k
an: my grandad was a man who loved flowers. today marks seven years since we lost him. he was gentle and kind and so talented.
have some forget me nots, which are in my garden and now also in your hands. for @morallyinept's flora and fauna challenge. for anyone you may also miss <3
When the time came
Just like you are
He was weightless
In my arms
- weightless, elbow
series masterlist | main masterlist
Your house is quiet.
Quiet like Frankie has never heard.
There’s always some kind of noise. A record turning, the hum of your voice. The TV on, windows open to birdsong. But today, there is nothing.
His legs are heavy. Heart heavy, fingers shaking, wrapped around the bag of groceries he’s brought. He’s taken two steps in through your front door, and now he doesn’t know what to do.
He watches the dust motes swim in the sun of your hallway. Shifts on his feet to look through into the living room. You must be upstairs, but to call your name in the silence of the morning feels like too much. Invasive. Cruel.
Instead, he swallows and takes the remaining strides into your kitchen. Breathes in the fresh smell of your plants, the familiarity of your spice rack in the corner, the spread of miscellaneous stuff that he’s rarely seen tidied away. He gently places the bag of groceries on the counter before opening your cupboards for a vase.
Once he finds one, he fills it with water and trims the stems. Forget-me-nots and white carnations. Something simple. Remembrance and love. Bright and pretty. No lilies. They only remind you of the funeral.
He’s biding his time. Trying to tamp down the nerves swirling in his gut, the somersault of his heart in his chest. He knows from the gaps left in his own life that today will be hard. And he wants to make it easier for you. He just hasn't worked out how.
He knows what works for him. The long hikes, the pull of a bottle. In murkier times, many years ago now, the sharp taste of powdered gums. Knows what works for the boys. The days with drawn curtains, video games played in the gloom. Tequila and memories shared across barbeques. Even his parents - honorary pastel de choclo, flicking through photo albums. But for you, he’s not sure.
Once he’s happy with the way the flowers are arranged, he takes off his shoes. He leaves his cap on the counter, and pads up the stairs.
It’s still quiet. You’re not in the bathroom. No reason for you to be in any other of the rooms. He holds his breath and raises his knuckles against the wood of your bedroom door.
He knocks, softly - once. Waits for an answer that doesn’t come, but pushes it open anyway.
‘Bug?’ He says gently into the morning sunlight.
You’re swaddled in bed, still in your pyjamas, eyes red and swollen. You sit up slightly with a watery smile as he edges in, managing a crackled hey, Fish.
A sharp lump rises in Frankie’s throat. Something about seeing you upset has always hurt; the same kind of ache he gets in his chest when Lucia or his mum cries. His eyes flick from yours to your bedside table, to the picture of your father settled on top of it. Frozen in time, his smile is wide - just like yours. Greying hair, a little more chin fat than he would have had as a younger man. A younger you tucked into his side, his arm slung over your shoulders. Your arms around his middle, squeezing, laughing. Fuck.
Frankie’s heart shoots out the bottom of his legs and skids across the floor. He looks you over, and your chin wobbles. Too much. Too vulnerable. The smile drops, your face cracks. Your mouth clamps shut with a snap of teeth, and a fresh wave of tears begins to pour down your cheeks.
Frankie feels his own expression crumble, and he’s at your side before he can even think for his feet to take him there. Perched on your mattress, arms around your shoulders to pull you close. Shushing like the gentle in and out of waves, lips pressed to your hot forehead.
You’re tense, so tense. Breath coming in choked hiccups, shoulders up to your ears. Hands gripping the sheets. There’s another pull in Frankie’s chest.
‘Stop trying not to cry,’ he murmurs, ‘I can feel it.’
You release a ragged breath, a heartbroken cry as you cling to his sleeves. Like you're being ripped apart. Like you're being drowned.
‘I’m sorry,’ you gasp, ‘I’m sorry.’
Frankie shifts you further across the bed so he can fit next to you, shaking his head.
‘Don’t be sorry. Why should you be sorry?’
‘You don’t have to be here,’ you choke, ‘It’s okay. You don’t have to stay.’
Frankie closes his eyes. Leaving you here is the furthest thing from his mind, a notion that wouldn’t even cross it.
‘I want to.’ He says.
You nod, curled tight to him. He can feel dampness seeping through his hoodie, and he sits back against the headboard, cradling you to his chest. His heart is beating so fast. You can hear it, the conch of your ear pressed to the cage of his ribs. You try to focus on it, try to think of nothing else. Try not to think of this day four years ago. The weightless feel of your father in your arms in the last minutes of his life. How you held him when he could hold you no longer.
‘What do you need, baby?’ Frankie asks.
The streams of tears, the bow of your brow, serve to split his heart in two.
‘I don’t know.’ You whisper.
So Frankie holds you closer, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.
Unwittingly, he’s answered the question for you. For the last four years, you have needed to be held like this. Needed to be held together by someone who is not yourself, someone who can shoulder the weight of the grief you have carried alone for years, just for a moment.
You lose yourself to it. To the warmth, the smell, the comfort. You let the flood come, you let Frankie rock you. You ask him how Luc is, and he understands the need to hear about life outside this room. So he tells you about her arts and crafts, her newfound dislike of mac and cheese, what she wants for her birthday. The daisy chains she's been making, the sweetpeas they're growing in their garden. And it’s wonderful. It reminds you of the good of the world, that it keeps spinning, that there is love out there even when it feels lost to you.
If there is something out there other than life, you hope your dad is in it. On a deck chair with a beer on the beach, a little basket of fries delivered to him every so often. He’s smiling, laughing. You hope he’s still around, because the idea that he’s not is too big, too great to face. It’s too lonely. Too terrifying to be alone in this world, no anchor, no tether, a family with their backs to you after you’d told them who you loved, too far in the distance to turn back to you with outstretched palms. An ex-fiancee who simply didn’t love you enough.
But he’s here, you feel. Here in this moment, watching from somewhere above. Mixed with the fabric of now like clothes in a washing machine. A spiral of colour and feeling. Pink, purple, blue, green. Love, joy, heartbreak, loss.
Orange. Orange and white is what Frankie can see. The warmth of the sunlight, the pale of your sheets. You’re far away but safe in his arms. He wants you there always. Wants to be wherever you need him.
He thinks of this day in his own life, four years ago. The tiny, warm body of his baby in his arms. Weightless as you are now and yet so heavy, the two of them fighting sleep in a nursery elsewhere in Florida. He can still smell her hair, still hear the way she’d babble, the way she still fit tucked into one arm. He swallows, hard. Holds you tighter still, thumbs rubbing your shoulder, your side. There is so much of his daughter’s life to see. He can’t imagine having it cut short. Can’t imagine knowing it would end soon, counting down the days as his body wasted. The milestones he’d miss, the moments and memories. The stories and people she’d introduce him to. It doesn’t bear thinking about, her out in the wide world without him to guide or protect her. And he knows you’d hate it, but he’s sorry. So sorry that that’s the life you have, that you don’t have him to turn to anymore. And he’s sorry for your dad. For him to have missed who you are now, to miss who you will be.
He presses another kiss to your head, hoping to convey this. This nebulous thought, this strange feeling.
‘He wrote letters for me,’ you whisper into his neck. So quietly, voice strained to breaking as you force the words out. ‘For birthdays. For jobs. For my first home. For my wedding. For a first child.’ You try to smile, but it’s flattened with a broken breath. ‘He thought of everything. And I read them again today - the ones I’m up to - but it’s like - it’s like his voice -’ you cut yourself off, burying your face in your hands as you try to calm down. ‘Sometimes it’s like I can’t hear him properly anymore.’
Frankie strokes the back of your hand, and it drops easily. He holds it in clammy palms.
In the cold days after your dad passed, through numb dissonance you had googled everything to do with grief. The stages, the remedies, the processes. What you forget first.
Voice. There would be a day, before anything else, when you wouldn’t be able to remember how your name sounded spoken by his lips. When you couldn’t remember the texture of I love you spoken in his tongue.
Frankie knows this. He googled it after Colombia, when the weight of every body he’d seen or carried seemed to settle on him. It had comforted him. He didn’t want to remember shouts and screams, couldn’t stomach the memory of Tom’s orders rattling through his brain. But he feels so desperate to take this from you, to retract and hide what you know. So useless in the face of so much hurt, so much loss. Even when he knows the best he can do is sit here in it with you.
You press your free fingertips into your eyes.
‘I’m so scared, Frankie,’ you whisper from behind the dark in your head. ‘I’m so scared I might forget him.’
Frankie’s seen the simplicities of grief before. Knows them intimately. Knows the horror of these realisations, understands as he presses his lips to your hairline and you shake in his arms. He loves you too much to lie.
So instead, he tells you a truth.
‘I’ve got you. I’ve got you.’
When the light turns from golden to white, the sun a little higher in the sky, you disentangle yourself to blow your nose. You manage a laugh as you do it, muttering a bashful ew as Frankie watches you, still stretched out on your mattress. Any other time, and your heart would be hammering in your chest at the sight. But now, it’s all the comfort you need.
He stands, stiff, stretching his arms to the ceiling before gathering you briefly in his arms again.
‘You okay?’ He asks.
‘Better.’ You say, brushing a curl from his forehead.
His eyes are so warm, so gentle.
‘Breakfast?’
You hum, offer him the best smile you can. A sludge of guilt slops in your stomach, but you try to swallow it.
‘Thank you. I’ll be down in a bit.’
When he’s downstairs, listening to the sound of your shower, he unpacks his grocery bag and begins making a stack of pancakes. Blueberry, banana, strawberry, chocolate chip. Syrup enough for you to taste through the salt at the back of your throat. Methodical, mechanical, more focused on listening for your movements through the floors of your house. The shutting off of the water, the soft thunk of your drawers. Your footsteps heavy on the stairs, down the hall. You appear in the doorway, hair washed, eyes red, cosy in sweats and a t-shirt. He smiles at you, and you smile back. It’s small, but it’s a start.
You move closer, and he takes you under his arm as he turns the stove off. You wrap your arms around his middle.
‘Thank you for the flowers,’ you say, quietly. Frankie follows your eyes to the bouquet arranged in the vase. Forget-me-nots, white carnations. ‘Thank you for not getting lilies.’
He smiles, kisses your forehead. Wonders whether he could leave a mark simply from doing it so often, so you’d always feel safe.
‘No problem.’
He guides you towards the table, pulls out the chair and makes sure you’re settled. Makes sure you have your coffee, your pancakes. The smell of the flowers is sweet, something blooming in your stomach. you trace the outline of them before you, the simplicity, the thought. Frankie asks what you want to do for the rest of the day. You deflect the question back at him, and he smiles.
‘Anything.’
‘Anything?’
You raise an eyebrow at his mhm.
‘That’s dangerous.’ You say with a wry smile.
Something in Frankie’s chest lifts. There she is.
Later, when Luc is tucked into your side and you’re tucked into Frankie’s, you’ll wonder how you can ever repay him. The kindness he shows you, the patience.
You only hope that you will, someday. Promise it, head leant against his shoulder.
Even if it takes the rest of your life.
#frankie morales#francisco morales#frankie morales x reader#frankie morales x you#jettsflora&faunachallenge#pedro pascal fanfiction#fic: on call
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Joel Miller Headcanons
Joel's And Your First Time
18 + Minor's DNI 🚫
Joel can't remember the last time he felt a connection this strongly with a woman. He finds himself lost in your enigmatic pull, noticing every little thing about you, from the way your nose scrunches when you giggle, how you become so passionate when talking about a subject close to your heart, the way you hold yourself with grace, your playful and witty personality and how your natural beauty radiates without even having to try.
Sometimes he can't fathom how someone like you could want someone like him, yet here you both are, seven months into your relationship. That word still sound so strange to Joel. In a brutal world of cordyceps and lawlessness he'd never even wanted a romantic relationship. For the longest time he was fine with no strings attached hookups, never daring to invest any emotion in a woman who could be torn away in the blink of an eye. It was better that way.
But then you waltzed into his life and pulled the rug from under his feet, sending his walls crashing to the ground. A few months of flirting, subtle gestures and stolen glances was all it took before the two of you confessed your mutual love for one another and you've both been inseparable ever since, even gaining the nickname 'The Lovebirds' by some of Jackson's residents.
Sitting on the setee, watching your eyes sparkle in the light of the fireplace as you tell Joel yet another story of your life 'Before', he realises how much he hangs on your every word, the sweet lilt of your voice is something he'll never be able to get enough of. Setting his whisky glass on your table, Joel turns back to you observing how you suddenly seem nervous. "You okay?'" Joel asks, his voice soft with concern. "Yeah... um... I'm good," you answer sheepishly, then put your glass next to his.
Before Joel knows what's happening, you're straddling his lap, kissing him deeply and sensually, your hands delicately gripping his hair, while his own find their way to your waist, pulling you tight against his body. Your sudden moan into his mouth electrifies Joel's entire body, arousal coursing it's way south. "Joel?..." his name leaves your lips in a breathless whisper, as you pull away slightly, noses still touching. "Mmhmm," Joel hums, lost in the haze of you. "I want you to make love to me." Oh, that cleared his foggy mind!
He pulls his head back, quickly, assessing your expression to see if it's what you really want, if maybe you'd just let it slip out without thinking, but all he can see is love and want written all over your face. "Are you sure?" he asks, just to be thorough, "I told you I don't mind waiting." Hell, he'd wait until the end of time if that's what it took just to be with you. He knows that to you, sex is a very emotional and intimate act, never being one for hookups and he respects the hell out of that. After all, everyone is different.
He let's out a deep groan as you rub your core over his very obvious hard-on. "I want you, Joel. I want all of you," you purr seductively into his ear, "I'm ready, take me to bed, baby." Joel chuckles at the little yelp you give as he grips both of your arse cheeks and effortlessly stands up, carrying you up the stairs with ease. He gently sets you down on the bed, lifting your chin to look ardently in to your eyes. "You really want this?" "I do," you smile up at him with the biggest heart eyes, "I want to feel the man I love inside me."
Joel wastes no time in pulling your top off, followed by your bra, all of your clothes, until you are fully naked before him and what a fucking sight you are! "So beautiful," Joel gushes as he takes in the sight of utter perfection. Moments later, his own clothes are a discarded pile on the floor and he watches as your roving eyes greedily drink him in, staring at his hardened shaft, while biting your bottom lip. You eagerly pull Joel on top of you as you lay back on the bed. Hands wander, seeking out bare flesh as you both fully explore each other's bodies for the first time.
Joel trails wet, languid kisses down you neck, feeling your pulse quicken under his tounge, until he reaches your breasts. He gently latches his mouth to your breast, swirling his tounge around your pebbled nipple. A grin spreads over his face as you arch your chest upwards, seeking more of his mouth. Joel releases your nipple with a 'pop' and a devilish smirk. "I'm gonna take good care of you, sweetheart," he croons while slowly moving his fingers to your soft folds. "So wet already," he marvels, "All this for me, huh?"
His fingers then find your clit and he starts to rub in circles, gradually building speed, resulting in a spectacle he'll never forget; Your head tipped back, mouth in the shape of an 'o', your chest heaving and the melody of your euphoric cry as he draws the first orgasm from your trembling body. He allows you to catch your breath for a minute, enjoying your blissed out appearance. "Think you can give me another one, sweetheart?" he asks in a sultry tone. "Mmhmm...," you nod, deliriously.
Joel's thick fingers slide down to your entrance, carefully parting your lips. Slowly and delicately, he pushes one finger into the warmth of your tunnel, followed by another, stroking your spongy spot until he can tell you're close. He kisses down your belly as your moans grow louder, finally settling on your clit. Between pumping his fingers in and out and licking and sucking your sensitive bundle, he has turned you into a writhing mess beneath him, griping his hair and bucking up into his mouth.
Every obscene moan, pant and wail coming from you is music to Joel's ears, causing him to smile against your sex. He's the one making you feel this good. With a shudder of your thighs and a scream of his name, your second orgasm crashes over you, coating him in your juices. Joel laps at your release like a man parched, the sweetest nectar to ever grace his tastebuds. "You still with me, darling?" Joel teases as he moves up your body to kiss you, giving you a taste of your own release. "Yeah... Joel, that was.. wow!" you pant as you begin to come back down from your high.
Joel's painfully hard cock presses into your hip, a testament to just how much he wants you. "Your turn," you smirk as you reach down, wrapping your soft hand around his girth, slowly pumping, while spreading a bead of pre cum over his glistening head. Joel knows he won't last much longer if you keep this up. Reaching down to lightly grab your hand, he stops your ministrations. "Darling, I'm not gonna last much longer like this and I want to feel your pussy around my cock, now," he groans. " Then take it," you purr, nipping his neck, "It's all yours."
Good god! He feels ready to blow his load from your words alone. Lining himself up at your entrance, Joel gazes into your eyes as he slowly sinks into your heat, causing both of you to gasp as he bottoms out. Your arms and legs wrap around his body, holding him in place, both of you remaining still to relish in this new intimacy. After a few moments you whine, "Fuck me, Joel!", your hand grabbing his arse cheek. He dosen't need to be told twice! Pulling out to the tip, he pushes himself back in, with just the right amount of force to begin with, thrusting harder and faster as your moans become louder and your nails dig into his shoulders. "oh, Joel! Right there, baby!"
He knows there'll be little crescent shapes over his back for a few days. He'll wear them as a badge of honour! "Fuck, sweetheart! So...ugh... tight,... ugh... so perfect!" He's getting close now, wishing it would never end; The velvety soft warmth enveloping his dick, squeezing and pulsing with every thrust is intoxicating, heightening all of his senses. The downright sinful sounds of wet skin slapping against wet skin, accompanied with your cry of his name may just be Joel's new favourite sounds.
Joel reaches between your bodies to circle your clit once again, determined to draw one last orgasm from you before he reaches his own climax. It only takes several seconds before you are clamping down on his cock, thighs gripping him like a vice, voice shuddering as you gush all over his pubic area. Chasing his own release, Joel asks, "where do you want me?" "On my... tits," you reply breathlessly. Another few thrusts and Joel quickly pulls out, painting your heaving chest in thick ropes of hot cum.
He flops down beside you as you both catch your breath. Pressing his forehead to yours and gently stroking your arm, Joel whispers, "You okay, darling? Wasn't too rough?" The blissfully fucked out look on your face alone tells Joel you're okay. "I'm great, baby. More than great!" Joel gazes adoringly at you while you cup his cheek in one hand. "That was everything I hoped it would be. How was it for you?" Joel smiles broadly, "Fucking amazing, sweet girl!" He presses a kiss to your forehead, then to your nose, then to your lips.
"Be right back," he says as he heads to the bathroom. Moments later he returns with a warm, wet towel and tenderly cleans you up. Laying back down beside you, he takes you in his arms, bringing your head to rest on his chest as you both bask in the afterglow of your actions. Joel can tell by your slow, even breathes that you've fallen alseep. He takes this moment to appreciate everything about you, his heart aching with how much love he holds for you. You are IT for him, The One, and you were absolutely worth waiting for.
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal fandom#joel miller fic#joel miller x you#joel miller imagine#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader
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And Baby Catfish Makes Three
feat. Frankie Morales x Mouse (f!reader)
a HeftyThrowaway one shot drabble | Rated: PG-13 | word count: 855
warnings: Child birth, labor, pain, families - if you see that I missed anything, let me know!
A/N: finally! @xdaddysprincessxx put it, Mouse was beginning to pull a Bonnie from Family Guy with how long she was pregnant. Thank you to @thehalflifeofloveisforever for reviewing this ages ago, and for @strang3lov3 and @noxturnalpascal for reviewing it in the present day.
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The last centimeter was taking forever and was the most pain you’d ever experienced in your life. Frankie was now sitting in the bed with you leaned back between his legs, your back to his chest. You needed him like this, cocooning you with his large body, trying in the softest and sweetest ways to be your support. One hand was wiping your forehead and the other was being squeezed by the uncharacteristically strong grip of your own.
“Breathe, mama… you’re so close…”, he whispered encouragement while planting kisses on your sweaty hair.
You tried to breathe in the rhythm that you’d learned in lamaze, but it was near impossible with how much pressure and pain you felt.
“Doing so good, Mouse.”
*****
Hours went by and you felt like this would never end. Your mind was clouded and you had no idea how much time had gone by, you were now fully enveloped in your labor. The people in the hallway passing your room talking or machines making any noise around you were not even registering anymore.
You felt an immense pressure and all those books that said you would just know when to push were right.
“I feel like… I have to push… Frankie… please… I have to push….”, you mumbled, trying to sit up.
If you could have seen Frankie’s face when he heard you, you would have thought he’d won the lottery and watched a chicken get beheaded - both fear and excitement meshed and his heart just about leapt from his chest. He unwedged himself from behind you clumsily and pressed the call button. Almost instantly, a nurse with the name badge reading ‘Sherri’ came in hurriedly and smiled.
“I heard! It’s go time!”, she cheered far too enthusiastically for your liking at the moment. She checked you and hailed the doctor to come quickly.
Frankie moved to the side of the bed, as instructed by Sherri and stood by your side, holding one of your legs up, while Sherri held the other. The doctor arrived and got in place at the end of the bed.
*****
You’d been pushing for nearly an hour and you felt like you were going to pass out. “I… I can’t!”, you panted and wailed, looking up at Frankie, eyes pleading with him. “I can’t do this… I… please! Frankie… please let me stop!”
“Mama, you’re doing it right now. You gotta keep pushing.”, he murmured back, pressing a kiss to your sweaty hairline. He couldn’t bear to look you in the eye as you were giving birth to his baby. He felt like the world’s biggest asshole. “I know you can do it… come on, baby… keep pushing.”, he tried to keep his voice calm, but your pleading and cries for him were breaking his heart, causing a lump in his throat.
*****
Frankie counted to ten for every push and in between he pressed his mouth to your temple and whispered more words of encouragement while you panted and pleaded for this to be over. You turned to look him in the eyes and he smiled, leaned down and kissed you.
“Come on, mama.”, he whispered against your mouth.
“One more push… go!”, the doctor announced.
You gathered up all your strength and bore down as hard as you could, crying out as you did. Then you heard it. That perfect, beautiful, anguished noise.
You heard her.
Someone, you weren’t sure who, announced that it was a girl. Your girl. She was placed on your chest, and Frankie broke down, sobbing into your hair sweet thank you’s and I love you’s.
You couldn’t tear your eyes away from your little squalling, angry baby. The world stopped as you looked down at her and your heart broke and repaired itself a million times before you even could let the first tear drop fall. There she was. Every panic attack, every sleepless night, every pain, every sorrow, every moment of self-doubt was all worth it because she was here.
Through your tears, you managed to coo, “Hey Matilda… I’m your Mama.”
*****
Matilda Maria Ariidae Morales, also known as Taters, was everything and more that you and Frankie could hope for. It didn’t even register for you how much Frankie had missed out on bonding with Taters being that she was inside you for nine months, and now that Taters was out, he took every chance he could get to cuddle, snuggle, feed, change and bathe his sweet girl. Frankie truly took to being a dad like a fish to water, and you loved him all the more for it. Her first six weeks home were chaotic and calm, with little to no sleep juxtaposed to perfect moments. More often than not, her afternoon nap was on her daddy’s chest while he dozed on the recliner in the den, watching tv - just like you’d imagined and hoped.
Both of you had agreed that Will and Hannah were the perfect candidates to be Taters’ godparents, and while both of them cried when asked, agreeing to fulfill the honor, Will was utterly inconsolable as he held his god daughter for pictures.
--------<3---------
The Ariidae or ariid catfish are a family of catfish that mainly live in marine waters with many freshwater and brackish water species. They are found worldwide in tropical to warm temperate zones. The family includes about 143 species.
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#happy frankie friday#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal tummy#frankie morales#triple frontier#francisco catfish morales#frankie morales fanfiction#you ask beefro answers#chubby frankie rights !!!!!#you ask beefro answers#🥩#thot tank#hefty hefty hefty
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Conquer the Heart
Summary: Joel comes out - written for @romanarose Pride Event Week 1: Coming Out
Word Count: 3,981
Pairing: Joel Miller x M! Reader
Rating: Mature (but my blog is 18+ mdni)
Warnings: vague descriptions of sex, fluff, kissing, conversations about sexuality, really that's it this is pretty much just sweet and fluffy with a tiny hint of spice
Betas: @for-a-longlongtime and @perotovar who could have guessed? Love y'all <3
A/N: I just wanted to make Joel queer idk. Title from an Orville Peck song because of course
You don’t know what possessed you to pay the $5 cover to check that place out. The Round-Up Saloon, perched on a street corner in downtown Austin. The outside was unassuming enough, but the neon lights and mechanical bull and rotating dance floor inside made it look like something straight out of Urban Cowboy.
There were all kinds of crowds. College kids and business casuals and actual cowboys. And it’s Austin, so all the sexualities were represented in one way or another as you took note of the couples at tables and on the dance floor. You couldn’t really care about any of them, though, as soon as you laid eyes on him.
You were drawn to him and his broad shoulders and tight Wrangler blue jeans.
He was with a big group of women and men, all drinking and laughing and taking turns line-dancing with each other on the dance floor.
And to think you only stumbled into the honky tonk cowboy bar out of curiosity… It certainly wasn’t your scene.
But you’d watched Joel dance with a few women with respectful hand placement, and then he danced with a man, and hope had bubbled up inside of you to the sound of Alan Jackson.
He was a little sweaty when you worked up the courage to talk to him, and his cologne masked all the alcohol and cigarettes in the air.
You plastered on a flirty smile and asked him if he could teach you some of his moves. When he looked taken aback and flustered, you backtracked.
“I’m sorry, I saw you dancing with that guy— I didn’t mean to assume.”
“Tommy? That’s my brother,” he’d explained, a little flushed in the face.
“Oh! Shit, sorry, ignore me.”
But he’d caught your arm as you turned to hibernate for approximately 5-10 business days.
“I don’t see no harm in teachin’ you.”
And so he did. And it was fun, and his hands on you were so warm you swear they branded his mark all over your skin.
A few songs, all background noise to the ‘he’s just straight, don’t do this’ mantra in your head, and he was leading you off the dance floor for another beer.
A friendly beer. Surely that’s all it was.
But he was so friendly. He gave you pointers on how to dance, and then asked if you’re from around here, and then he was waving off his group of friends when they all announced their departure.
He asked you about your job, and you asked about his, and then the way his hands felt rough on the skin of your arm made more sense.
Maybe you were crazy, or the two beers you had were really getting to your head, but there was something so unspeakably electric between you. You felt it when he’d lean in closer to hear you, the way he touched your arm with the back of his bottle-filled fist, the way his hoppy breath ghosted across your cheek to reach your ear.
And then he said he should probably get home, and asked if he should walk you to your car, and maybe he wasn’t straight, you thought, as he briefly placed his hand on your back to guide you through the packed bar.
And you really, really shouldn’t have. But you asked for his number, and he put it in your shitty flip phone, and then you kissed him.
Right on the mouth. A quick peck that was so short you could’ve nearly pretended it was an accident.
He looked so stunned, and guilt boiled up in your stomach.
But he’d grabbed your wrist gently, and looked you in the eyes.
“I’m uh… I don’t… I haven’t ever done that.”
“That was your first kiss?”
It was a joke, and thank god he laughed. His smile looked so fucking good under the shitty, flickering street lamps.
“Call me, okay?”
And then he was gone. You thought about him the whole drive home, while you got undressed and ready for bed, as you fell asleep. You felt his touch in your dreams, and when you woke in the morning you could hardly believe he was real.
But his phone number was burning a hole in your cell phone. You stared at it on and off all Saturday long. What would you even say? Why did he even want you to call him, if he’d never even kissed a guy before? Did he just want a new drinking buddy?
The dread built up all day long, until it was late, and a sense of now or never goaded you into calling his number.
He answered, and you told him who you were, and he’d sounded so surprised to hear from you. He didn’t think you’d want to see him again, after he embarrassed himself, and his admission made you balk.
You told him you were the one who felt embarrassed. He laughed at that. Said he’s a lot smoother with ladies, but you made him feel nervous. He said he wanted to meet up again.
And so you did.
Just a shitty diner for an early dinner on Sunday, unassuming enough. The chemistry you felt at the bar hadn’t faded. If anything, it was so much more apparent now. The way he blushed when you flirted seemed less like the bad kind of gay panic. His foot kept nudging yours under the table.
He walked you to your car again, and then he kissed you, much less chaste than the night at the bar, with one big, rough hand on your neck and the other on your hip.
“That was pretty good for only your second kiss,” you’d said.
He shrugged, a sheepish smile gracing his heated face.
“Should stick around and find out about the third.”
And if you hadn’t already been wrapped around his finger, he certainly secured the spot for you then.
He wasn’t new to dating, but he was new to this, and it showed. He got pretty easily flustered around you. On your second date, he brought up his daughter for the first time like he’d forgotten he hadn’t mentioned her before. A casual thing, talking about her getting ready to graduate high school.
“Does Sarah know… who you’re on a date with?”
Joel shook his head.
“Not yet. No one does… Not even sure how to explain it to myself, if I’m honest.”
You were patient with him. It’s gotta be culture shock, living nearly 40 years of your life completely straight and having some random guy at a bar change that for you overnight.
You took things slow. You talked a lot over the phone, after Sarah went to sleep. He told you about his dating history, Sarah’s mom and only a few unserious flings after. You tried not to psychoanalyze him, but it makes a little bit of sense. Getting some girl pregnant at 19, marrying her, getting ditched with a toddler and a curt ‘good luck’ and then raising her on your own?
No wonder he never questioned his sexuality. There was genuinely no time to.
At first, you thought you may just be a stepping stone. A news flash for him, an experiment, something fun for a season. It didn’t bother you. It’s happened before. But as your nightly talks got longer, and as you took each other out more and more often, it became clear that it wasn’t like that.
You watched with fascination and adoration as Joel figured things out. It was so endearing when he asked if he should hold the door open for you, or if you should take turns. Likewise, when he held your hand in public for the first time, the way he asked your permission made your heart grow way too big for your rib cage.
Things weren’t perfect, of course, but nothing ever is. You didn’t get to see him as much as you ideally would. You were both busy during the work week, and he often had father duties on the weekends. Most of your dates were quick dinner bites when Sarah had a school thing, or an odd Saturday here or there when Sarah had a sleepover.
But that was quite enough for you. You weren’t even looking for something when you’d met him. You didn’t feel the need to move quickly when you hadn’t planned on going anywhere in the first place.
And he was sweet, and quite self-aware.
“Wish we could spend more time together,” he’d tell you over the phone, “I know this ain’t the way things normally go.”
But you liked him. So much. So it didn’t bother you.
And, as the weeks passed by, he opened up more. He started asking you more pointed questions, like how you came out to those closest to, and what it was like. He asked if you were seeing other people— it’s okay if you are, was just wonderin’— and then he asked you if you wanted to be together when you made it clear you weren’t.
“Like… as boyfriend and boyfriend?”
He chuckled, the deep gravel a familiar tone swimming through your landline with a nervous twinge to it.
“Yeah, as boyfriend and boyfriend.”
And he treated you right, and you got along with him so well, and he was so put together and responsible and respectful.
“I’d really like to be your boyfriend.”
And his breath had hitched so loud it was caught by the receiver, but you could hear the smile in his voice when he told you that he’d really like that, too.
A few days after that, he told you Sarah would be gone all weekend, on a team trip for some hiking and kayaking and bonding.
“Could I stay at yours? I hate to invite myself, it’s just— Tommy’s got no boundaries. Wouldn’t want him bargin’ in, y’know, before I get to tell him.”
You didn’t mind one bit, aside from the mountain of laundry you had to fold in preparation for his arrival.
It was the first time you’d been truly alone with him. Your dates were always public, at least somewhat. And he’d kissed you, a ton, but that’s as far as it had ever gone.
You definitely wanted him. You’d wanted him since the very second you laid eyes on him at that cheesy honky tonk bar. But it was funny how nervous you were, even though your experience with men put Joel’s to shame.
It was a lot like high school, in the way you danced around each other at first. A movie on your couch, with his arm draped along the back of it. Readjusting to ‘get comfy,’ inching, until the warmth of his body was pressed against yours and his arm dropped from the back of the couch to your shoulders.
His heartbeat was deafening, hard and fast, when you’d tucked your head against his chest. You moved your hand to his knee in the world’s most intense match of The Nervous Game and feared for his cardiovascular health.
He said your name, and like it was the magic word, every single facade crumbled around you in an instant.
His kisses made your head spin, and the way his thick thighs felt under your own was addictive, and it was over before either of you realized it had started. Two sets of soiled pants and underwear thrown into your washing machine, along with the last of the pretenses. And then you’d dragged him to your bed.
The sex wasn’t even your favorite part. The best was the morning after, and how you were plastered to his back as you woke up slow and easy. The way he held your arm to his stomach, even in his sleep. And the way you only got out of bed for food or bathroom breaks, a whole day with him, alone, uninterrupted.
Just as you started to worry that this was a one-time thing, at least for a while, Joel huffed beside you and nuzzled his head into your shoulder.
“I wanna come out. At least to Tommy ‘n Sarah. S’not right, keeping you a secret like this when you’ve been makin’ me so happy. I know you’d make them happy too.”
You stroked his hair, and asked if he was sure, and though his pretty brown eyes looked wide and scared, his jaw was set with a determined nod.
So you devised a plan. Or— Joel devised it, and asked for your input, and it all made you a bit giddy.
He had you over for dinner. Just as a friend, at first. He’d ordered pizza and stocked beer and told Tommy and Sarah he was having a friend over.
You wondered if Tommy would recognize you from the bar, but if he did, he didn’t show it. He just talked your ear off about Texas sports and old cars.
Sarah was… well, you understood why Joel could never seem to smile wide enough when he talked about her. She was so smart, and kind-hearted, and funny. You had a hard time keeping up, but the way Joel and Tommy were around her, you think she probably has that effect on most people.
It was a nice night, fun and easy conversation, good pizza, and a very competitive game of Boggle in which Sarah dominated.
And it was only a little bit difficult to spend the evening as just Joel’s friend, solely because of how easily you fit into his life. You wanted to scream it from the rooftops, that Joel wanted you to be a piece in his puzzle.
Sarah, so politely, excused herself to go to bed as it got later. The three of you left shuffled around, gathering game pieces and paper plates and empty cans, until you all eventually met back in the kitchen. Joel gave you a look, and you gave him a comforting smile right back, and it was like the room’s air was replaced with water as he spoke up.
“Tommy?”
“Mmhmm?”
The younger brother whipped around to face you both, sliding the leftovers into the fridge with a slice in his mouth.
“I uh… I wanted to let you know that I’m— that we’re, uh… Together?”
You watched as his dark eyes glazed over for a second, brow scrunched up in confusion. And then his gaze flickered from you to him, and back to you, and his eyes grew as big as saucers.
“No kiddin’?”
Joel laughed.
“Serious. He’s my… He’s my boyfriend.”
Tommy swallowed his mouthful of pizza, wiped his mustache, and smiled. A genuine smile, sweet and warm, reaching his eyes.
“Hermano, good for you. That’s— I’m happy for you.”
He opened his arms and tugged Joel into a hug, and Joel grumbled something about Tommy getting pizza grease on his clothes, but he was smiling wide and relieved over Tommy’s shoulder.
But then Joel’s face got serious again as Tommy pulled away with a manly slap to his shoulder.
“Sarah doesn’t know yet. I wanted to make sure everyone got along first, y’know?”
And then Tommy was looking at you and rolling his eyes and chuckling.
“Think we all get along just fine. You should tell her soon.”
And Joel knew Tommy was right, but it didn’t stop him from looking so anxious when Tommy left with another round of goodbye hugs.
“What are you most worried about?”
You asked him because you knew there were many things to fret over, in his situation.
“Just that… She’s had this idea of me this whole time, y’know? What if she sees me different, and then things change between us?”
And god, that made your throat feel thick, and Joel’s eyes got a little misty, so you pulled him tight against you and let him sag into your hold.
“I know the feeling,” you told him, “but I don’t think you have to worry about that.”
“No?”
You huffed a laugh and tangled your fingers in the curls at the back of his neck.
“You mean everything to her. I can tell just by how she looks at you. Never seen a teenager like their dad that much.”
And he laughed too, a little wet against your shoulder.
“Will you be there with me when I tell her? I don’t— I don’t think I can do it alone.”
Your lips found his bristly cheek and planted a kiss there, and you mumbled of course into the salty skin.
So you went home, with plans to come back the next day. This wasn’t easy for you, either, dating a guy with a kid for the first time. You knew she liked you, at least, but that was a face value assessment. Would she mind you taking up more of her dad’s time? Would she mind you in their space every so often? Would she mind if you came around to her soccer games or science fairs or graduation, as her dad’s boyfriend, in front of all the other kids with nuclear families? Would she resent you for shaking up what they had?
You didn’t get much sleep, thinking about it. You wondered if you should bring her some kind of gift, flowers or a trinket or something, but then you’d be trying too hard, right?
As you got ready the next morning, you thought about all the ways it could go wrong, but none of them really seemed realistic. Sarah was sweet, and intelligent, and surely if she did have reservations, they’d be able to talk them through civilly.
Right?
You couldn’t even listen to music on your way to their house. It was a silent fifteen minute drive with your nerves boiling over and spilling out, thinking of how awkward things could get.
But all of that kind of fell to the wayside when Sarah answered the door and said “I haven’t seen you in forever” with a cheeky grin and those bright eyes she definitely got from Joel.
It felt cozy when you sat down at their kitchen table while they sipped their coffee and orange juice and Sarah told you both all about the English project she was working on. It put you at ease to ask her questions about things you have in common, and for all of you to mesh so well into a normal conversation.
But as it lulled, you noticed Joel getting restless, and you noticed Sarah noticing his uneasiness.
“Dad, you’re acting weird in front of our company.”
And while she was alway kind and respectful, she was still a teenager with a dorky dad.
“Well… I wanted to talk to you about somethin’.”
She looked at him with her head tilted and her eyebrow raised.
“Now?”
She nodded her head toward you as she asked, and you couldn’t blame her for being confused as to why he had to have a heart-to-heart with his ‘friend’ visiting.
“Yeah um… You know how you’re always tellin’ me I should get a life and start datin’?”
Sarah laughed and looked at you.
“Yeah, could you be his wingman? It’s getting sad.”
And you laughed, and Joel laughed, but it was a little forced, and Sarah’s smart, so you could read the confusion on her face.
“What’s this about, dad?”
Joel took a big, deep breath and took Sarah’s hand on the table. You watched her squeeze his fingers as her face twisted up in worry.
“He’s my— we’re dating. He’s my… boyfriend.”
The worry dissipated, and her eyes got wide and her lips pursed before her jaw slowly dropped with surprise.
“You guys are together?”
She looked over to you, then, and all you could do was give her a soft smile and nod.
“I know you might have some questions—”
“How long? When did you guys meet?”
She looked back to Joel to answer, but you could see he was still reeling, with sweat saturating the curls at his temples.
“Just a couple months ago, he taught me how to dance to the Boot Scootin’ Boogie.”
She made a noise, like a scoff, and it made you wince.
“Months!? Dad, why didn’t you tell me?”
You watched Joel’s eyes cloud with— fear? You’d never seen him look so scared.
“I’m sorry, babygirl. I just— I guess I didn’t know how. At first.”
His voice trembled, and you watched Sarah’s lip quiver before she shot out of her chair and lunged toward her dad, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.
“I love you,” she’d mumbled, like she knew it was what he needed to hear, because his shoulders slumped and his arms wrapped around her back.
You thought maybe you should look away. It felt real personal. But Joel had asked you to be here, and it was about you, too, as much as that fact made you want to burrow underground.
“You could have told me sooner. I love boy talk.”
Her voice was muffled and heavy with tears, but Joel chuckled all the same through his own misty gaze.
“I didn’t know you liked boys.”
She pulled away but didn’t go far, letting her hands squeeze his biceps as she looked to him for an answer.
“Me neither,” he shrugged, “I like this boy, though. A lot.”
And he got this goofy smile on his face, even though it was a little wet, and he looked at you, and you felt so awkward but so head over heels.
“Okay, well, you still should have told me. I would’ve been on the porch cleaning Uncle Tommy’s shotgun when he pulled up.”
Joel groaned and covered his face but you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up out of you.
“What are your intentions with my father?”
And though her tone was joking, her eyes grew soft as she waited for an answer.
“I guess I just wanna make him happy. Because he makes me happy. If that’s alright with you?”
She sat back down and rested her chin in her hand, with her lips pursed again as she thought.
“Sarah, you can have time to think—”
“Deal.”
She extended her hand out to you from across the table, and you took it eagerly to shake on it. But after an appropriate amount of handshake time, she didn’t let your hand go.
“You have to come over for movie nights now.”
“I can do that.”
“And I have to make sure your taste in movies doesn’t suck before I let you pick one.”
“That’s fair.”
“ALSO—“
“Sarah,” Joel interrupted, “this isn’t how deals work. You can’t add stuff while he’s still shaking your hand.”
“As I was saying,” Sarah rolled her eyes, squeezing your hand tighter, “you have to treat him right. He acts all tough but he’s just a softy.”
“Oh Christ,” Joel huffed.
“No, she has a point,” you told him with a smirk, “I promise I will, Sarah.”
Her eyes narrowed at you, but then she grinned, and finally let go of your hand.
So yeah, you really really like Joel Miller. You’re never happier than you are when you spend the evening at his house, snuggled up on one side of him while Sarah’s snuggled up to the other, watching some movie Sarah’s usually the one to pick.
Or when you meet him and Tommy at Sarah’s soccer game, and he greets you with a smile and lifts the bill of your Miller Contracting hat you’ve stolen to peck your lips.
Or when you’re in your own kitchen, making his coffee, and you feel sleepy arms wrap around your waist and a sleep warm kiss at the nape of your neck.
Really, as long as you’re with Joel, you’re the happiest you’ve ever been. And if those three little words slip out one day soon, well, there isn’t a single thing that makes you think Joel would be surprised by them.
#joel miller x reader#joel miller#joel miller x you#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fluff#joel miller fanfic#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fanfiction#OscarPedroPrideEvent2024
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𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 | Lucien Flores x reader
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summary | this is for @iamasaddie's kinky may writing challenge, a mix of a kink i haven't tried writing before and character i adore dearly but know next to nothing about. this was really fun to try out and my first fic back in almost four months, cheers to finally being back ig? may we christen it with smut.
content warning | heavy smut, literally pwp (there's some backstory if you squint), sensory deprivation, safe words, some food consumption as foreplay, some bodily fluid exchange/consumption, gags/restraints/ect and all that good stuff, oral (m/f receiving), p in v unprotected sex, established relationship, lucien is still a relatively blank character so none of this is canon (just how my silly little brain likes to imagine him rn)
word count — 4.7k
The rain is quiet against the apartment window, a soft and slow pattering that matches the slow beat of your heart. You can’t see it, not in your current position as Lucien leans his knee into the mattress behind you and the bed dips, warm fingertips brushing over your cheeks and the shell of your ear as he carefully and methodically secures the blindfold in place with a knot that feels secure. He brushes his fingertip over your nose as he nitpicks and mumbles something under his breath, fixing the black material until your vision is completely hindered.
“Princesa,” His voice is a soft caress, “everything alright?”
Constant check-ins, reassurances, comfortability and security—it was all you felt with Lucien. Things had clicked with him so easily. It made your heart drop into your stomach with the first realization, unlucky with love to a fault that never let up. He had eyes on you from the moment you first met and they never drifted.
A mid-life crisis. You were younger, a subordinate under his wife, and unattainable by most standards and rules. Fetching coffees, keeping Rose on schedule and reminding her of all the never-ending events she kept yes-ing—Lucien and her had long been divorced but a chance encounter at an industry mixer had landed you here. A routine you’ve both upheld for the last six months and it felt real. You had solid ground to stand on with Lucien and he never diminished how you were feeling, even if you felt so embarrassingly naive about things.
And the sex had never steadily climbed and crescendoed—Lucien liked to ravish and devour in a way that had you holding your breath and helped him realize very quickly how overwhelmed you could get. It wasn’t necessarily bad, but there was too much outside distraction—him, the droning buzz of traffic outside of his apartment, the distant muffled television a room away that Lucien always forgot to turn off before settling down for the evening with you.
You needed focus, grounding—given Lucien’s illustrious history and Hollywood rumors and all the things you’ve heard from around town and within the social networks you shared, he seemed like the furthest thing from a good choice.
But, the care and attention he showed you drowned it out entirely.
Hell, he gave you a key to his apartment within a month and you’ve never seen anyone else visit him—he doesn’t host parties here, he doesn’t even let his ex-wife set foot past the threshold. It was your own little sanctuary.
You lift the blindfold slightly and ruin the work he’d done to get it just how he wanted, but he doesn’t seem to care.
“Hmm?” He’s got an eyebrow half-raise, features relaxed but masking an obvious worry that he didn’t want to harp about. “Yeah, yeah. I’m good.”
Lucien tilts his head, “How good?”
Just good. Kinda good. I’m only telling you I’m good so you don’t worry about me.
His thumb rubs at your chin and the thoughts float away and you allow yourself to live in the moment, reaping in the undivided attention this man showed you.
“Really good.” You reply salaciously, using the angle to your advantage as he towered over you on the bed, foot dragging along the inside of his thigh and pressing into the back of it until he lost his footing and slipped further into the deep pockets of the comforter. “Better if you start touching me like you kept promising over dinner.”
“Eager today?” Lucien teases as he crawls until he’s found his way between your legs, resting on his outstretched palm as he fixes your blindfold and darkness floods your senses again.
“Game recognizes game.” You retort, allow Lucien to use a guiding hand to settle you against the plush headboard, buttons pulling in on the fanned, velvet material. “I really need this today.”
There’s a soft shuffling and the familiar clink of expensive jewelry scattering against the bedside table—it was the forewarning that Lucien was prepared to make a mess of you, hammering that final nail in the coffin as he drags three fingers in a harmonious unison over your clothed pussy, the thin shirt you were wearing rubbing against the inside of his forearm as he applies just enough pressure to have you chasing after it when it fades away.
“I know, baby.” His voice drips like a warm honey, sticking to your skin and making you sweat. “Say your word.”
“Luce, we do this every time. I know it, we’re good.”
Silence lingered and you cleared your throat, the dip of pressure in the mattress between your legs from his hand, not allowing himself to touch you until you repeated it back to him.
You nod, “Peach.”
The small tick of a fond memory shows on his face, lips curling up at one side. It happens every time and Lucien knows it was meant as a playful jab in the beginning, but it quickly became something so sacred.
You've only used it once and never out of fear or miscommunication—Lucien understood your limits and liked to push when you agreed, but one too many orgasms by his tongue as he buried his head between your thighs had eventually became too much and it was said through a shaky laugh, yanking at his curls until he surfaced.
Lucien, almost instantly, is there—mouth pressed against the barrier of your underwear, fingers curling around your thighs and spreading you apart with ample pressure, exploring your skin like uncharted territory, a new exploration. Like he hadn’t been going down on you for the last several months and already mapped out every inch of your body, knew all the shortcuts and quick routes.
The wetness soaked your underwear, the fleshy fat of his tongue rubbing hot and lapping at the heady taste of your arousal with a sigh before his fingers curl around the edges of your underwear where they cling to your hips, moving them down your legs and suddenly, despite being surrounded by darkness, the feeling of exposure is still daunting. Every time.
“Tell me about your day.”
Then he’s licking a slow stripe down your center and you’re curling at the sudden touch, but quickly relaxing as he settles in, letting your fingers rest back in his soft curls, using your other senses while they are still available. Your mind wanders and wonders, thinking about the expertise and dexterity of his tongue. How if he really wanted you to come, he would have you there in less than a minute, but he was going easy.
“Boring,” Is all you have, “Most of the same.”
He’s just trying to fill the air, giving you a solid distraction outside of his filthy mouth. It’s not exactly his aim to bring up work during sex, especially when it’s in relation to his ex-wife.
“And dinner? How was it?”
Lucien purposefully flicks his tongue over your clit and you gasp softly, tugging at the strands of hair under your fingertips and you feel a hand rub at your lower back as it arches, a tender touch that you give into.
“Perfect,” It’s the truth, eternally grateful for his choice of personal chefs, because as much as you adored Lucien, he was not to be let into a kitchen, “delicious, as always.”
Lucien groans, deep and low against your pussy as his mouth sucks greedily at you, feeling his fingers inching closer and closer to your core, like he’s trying to take things slow for now, but the impatience is winning out. They’re tight at the apex of your thighs currently and just bordering on discomfort when he squeezes every time you moan or sigh or make even the smallest reaction to his mouth.
“R-right there,” You direct, canting your hips up despite his strong grip, “fuck, just—yeah, right there.” Lucien has always responded well, course-correction and sensing the way your body pulls him in, thighs squeezing around him as he dips a finger inside of you in time with his tongue, working you over mercilessly.
The lack of sight is making everything that more intense, searching for something to ground you, using your grip in Lucien’s hair, your other hand placed over his where it’s curled around your thigh as an anchor, feeling him speak against your cunt, filthy words you can’t quite catch but if you could see him, he would be sporting a shit-eating grin.
The heat in your stomach coils, feeling the sensation down your spine as you whimper, one final swipe of his tongue over your clit within the immense build up of tension has you brokenly moaning out, “Come—fuck, I’m c-coming, Luce.”
Lucien laps at your greedily, prying your thighs apart forcefully.
“Shit—” His voice encourages, “—such a sweet fuckin’ pussy. Makes me fuckin’ crazy. Need you to taste it, baby.”
He’s already moving up your body as your lips part, your tongue dipping blindly into his mouth and tasting the headiness of you on his tongue, a sweet tang that isn’t unwelcomed. You don’t often make it a habit to kiss him after he’s gone down on you—he’s often messy, face a mix of saliva and you, smeared all over his chin, but the frenzy in his voice is hard to deny, giggling softly into his mouth as your teeth graze his bottom lip.
You’re still effectively blind, rubbing your palm over the inseam of his silk lounge pants, pulling at the delicate string that was struggling, tight against the length of his cock. Lucien grunts into your neck at the touch and widens his knees against the mattress, biting playful at your skin to soothe it moments later. His hands rub at your weak thighs, still shaking post-orgasm and you can’t help but be eager despite how much energy Lucien had worked out of you.
“Sit up,” You pointedly squeeze at his shaft and lean up, feeling the movement of his body follow. “—my turn.”
Lucien huffs in amusement, shuffling back on his knees as you sit upright. You reach for your blindfold but his hand engulfs your own, “Not yet.” He orders calmly.
You relinquish control to his guidance and sit on your calves as he places your hands flat against his bare chest, just above the softness of his stomach, feeling his heartbeat under your palms. “Like this.”
“But, I want to see you for this.” It’s nearly a beg, more of a test to see how easy he gives into your wants, but he chuckles in response and taps at your chin once. So, that was a no.
Despite how quickly he got off from a single look, his cock stuffed into your mouth and his hand gripping hard at the root of your scalp—maybe he was actually doing himself a favor.
Your shoulders slump slightly, barely noticeable but you smile and trail your fingertips down his abdomen, featherlight as the muscle flexes underneath your touch and they hover around the hem of pants as you lean forward and aim to press a kiss to his sternum, his chest, down and down until you feel your lips brush against the waistband.
“Take it out,” He encourages, “wanna watch you.”
You pull at the waistband with your teeth playfully, curious of just how quickly you're driving Lucien up the wall with the way you're acting, the material catching over his stiff, hard cock and allowing your hands to help you get them the rest of the way down.
Lucien is kind enough to be a guiding hand, thumb pressed against the side of your jaw as he guides you forward, feeding the head of his cock past your lips, tongue dragging along the tip and under, the brush of foreskin like soft, warm velvet.
And you have him in the palm of your hand like this, despite how helpless you must look. It only takes a few minutes before Lucien is louder, mouthier with his words and harsh with his matching thrusts into your mouth.
Frustrated, Lucien pulls at the knot on your blindfold hastily, the soft grunts of his impending orgasm loud in your ears, feeling so starved of sight that when the blindfold falls away and your eyes open and you’re overwhelmed with light, ignoring the fact that Lucien’s cock was nearly pressing against the back of your throat.
But, it’s quickly nulled out by Lucien, towering over you and blocking most of the harsh fluorescence that drown out the room around you, eyes falling close again despite being free of the blindfold as you take him until your nose is pressing against his groin, the fingers resting at the back of your neck squeezing harshly.
Selfishly, he wants to keep you here for a while longer. A few minutes, a few hours.
“Relajate,” Lucien forces out, his mouth hanging open on the word as you pull away, now wide-eyed and wiping away the string of spit that connects you to him, “there’s no rush.”
You smirk at his words, grinning up at him before you lick at the head of his cock, wrapping your hand around his shaft as you respond, “For you, maybe. But, I want you to fuck me.”
Lucien’s fingers dance along the shell of your ear, drifting down the column of your neck until his palm covers the expanse of it before gripping firmly, a soft gasp ripping from your throat as he forces you to straighten, leaning down into your space.
“Slow, princesa,” Lucien demands, “Or you’ll regret it later.”
As if that didn’t already intrigue you enough, you nod subtly and return his mischievous grin.
Slow is what you give him, long strokes as you circle your tongue around the head of his cock, occasionally dipping your head down to lick the underside of his shaft, too dangerously close to his balls, taut from how obviously he was straining to hold off, his usually perfectly quaffed hair sticking to his forehead and every which way.
There is no wondering—you could do this all day if you wanted, bringing him right to the edge but never quite falling, like he enjoyed doing to you, a shared pastime you’ve explored a few times but clearly not enough—because eventually you just get impatient.
Thankfully he seems to understand, nodding as your lips hover near his cock, playful kisses pressed against his pubic bone and scattered around until you finally decide to swallow him down, a few minutes later and he’s coming down your throat, eyes watering at the force but his eyes are locked on your own and you swallow on instinct, taking a sharp breath when he finally pulls back, seemingly just as wrecked as you were a half hour ago as he slumps into the bed, landing on back beside you, his hand rubbing over your knee tenderly.
“Are you up for a snack?”
You look at him quizzically, bemused at his question.
“Is that code?” You tease, fingers scratching at his overgrown stubble beard, “Should I be worried?”
“No, I’m hungry,” Lucien laughs gruffly, groaning as he turns on his side and slips off the bed, walking naked to the door and out of the room casually, coming back into the room with a sizeable plate of cut fruit and you grin, his heel forcing the door closed behind him. “See?”
He offers the plate up as proof as he sets it at the bedside table, though his fingers linger near the closed drawer a few centimeters beneath it. And you know where things are heading, the routine isn’t always the same, but Lucien liked to cover most, if not all the bases on nights where he was really needing the distraction. It seemed to be one of those nights, watching as his fingers dipped inside the drawer to grab the wrist restraints that hooked to the center of his headboard, a soft material that helped with comfort but made it damn near impossible to slip out if you really wanted to while your hands were hooked up.
But, that’s what Lucien wanted. The ability to trust that he would know your limits or that you would trust him enough to react to the safe word if you ever, for any reason, needed to use it.
“Oh—” Your gaze lingers and Lucien rubs the material in his hands.
“This alright?” He wonders, though the glint in your eye is enough of an answer.
You laugh softly through your nose and take the binding in his hand, slipping your wrist through the loops, leisurely scooting back until you hit the headboard, raising your arms above your head, “You tell me?”
Lucien chews absently at his bottom lip as he takes a rogue bite out of one of the strawberries on the plate before leaning onto his knee against the mattress, securing the restraint into place. A small latch that was also accessible to you if needed. He leans down quickly and you’re unprepared for the suddenness of it but he presses against you in a slow, sloppy kiss that leaves you chasing after the sweet juice that lingered in his mouth, mixed with the glass of malt whiskey he’d had earlier.
“Blindfold too?” You ask curiously.
Lucien shakes his head distractedly and takes his seat beside you on the bed, facing in the opposite direction so you’re both facing each other. The lack of clothing should feel distracting, but you’re too focused on his face, watching as he carefully bunches up the leaves on a strawberry and presses it to your lips, tongue curling around it and biting into it with a soft crunch.
‘What’s with the food?” You ask with a slightly furrowed brow, food stuffed in your cheek as you chew, “Not that I’m complaining but…this is…”
“Baby, relax,” He notices the tensing of the muscles in your forearm, nodding in the general direction—you hadn’t realized how hard you were curling your hands into fists until he pointed it out, “—remember the new assistant I hired?”
Another bite and the strawberry is done for, Lucien’s finger following as he wipes away the mess of juice around your bottom lip, savoring it for himself as he presses his thumb against his thumb and sucks and if he sees the way your thighs inch together, he doesn’t say anything.
You hum in acknowledgment and chew at the fruit, remembering the fresh-faced and terrified young man who Lucien had given a shot to after firing his old assistant—the embezzling funds was a problem, but he also insisted that he needed a fresh start, but you didn’t think he meant that fresh.
“I was craving it,” Lucien shrugged, “He went and picked up a bunch of shit.”
“Craving it,” You mince the words and Lucien chuckles, noticing your pointed gaze, “—for a sex thing, clearly.”
Caught. Sort of.
Lucien was big on trying new things—it was harmless, but the way he had tore into a peach during the picnic luncheon at for the acting agency both he and Rose worked under, eyes locked on you as he split it in half and shared the other half with you, less than careful about the way he cleaned up the juices on himself and you, finding yourself unexpectedly drooling over him in one of your less than finest moments. It was either the delicious fruit or an oral fixation. Maybe both.
He shoved a slice of kiwi between his teeth and leaned forward, pressing the fruit into your mouth and following with his tongue, devouring you into a kiss that has you whining quietly into his mouth, pulling away as you leaned forward to chase after him, chewing at the fruit in annoyance as you slumped back.
“Play nice, princesa.” Lucien teases.
“I am,” You retort with a sharp bite in your town, “you are making me wait.”
Lucien takes the ringlet slice of pineapple and squeezes it over your bare chest, down the valley of your breasts and you gasp at the sudden change in temperature against your hot to the touch skin, eyes snapping to the liquid traveling to your belly button.
“Lucien!”
You shriek, watching as he tossed the mangled fruit aside and made his ascent, licking from your belly button to the junction of your neck in one go, hovering over you with a devilish smile.
“If you don’t fuck me right now—” You gritted through clenched teeth and he presses his forehead against your own, giving you nowhere to hide as he stares you down, “I swear to god, Luce—”
“You trust me, right?”
“Stupid question,” You retort, nudging him back with your nose, “of course.”
Lucien hides the bemused expression on his face as he looks away, leaning over the side of the bed for a couple items that are out of your line of sight but quickly come into view as he lays them against your stomach, his thighs slotted underneath your own, taut muscle rubbing against your skin.
“Thought we could,” He separates them out carefully along your abdomen, “try a few at once.”
A gag—familiar and frequently used, black leather around a silicone black ball. A different blindfold, more like a sleep mask—it looked like Lucien’s sleep mask, actually. He could use the traditional one he tends to stick with but it seems he’s aiming for comfort here, fingers tracing along the last item with a raised brow.
“Ear buds? Really, Lucien? Headphones?” You giggle softly, “You want me to listen to music while we—”
“No, no—” Your laughter is infectious and he chuckles too, “baby, they’re just noise canceling.”
“Oh?” Your wrist yanks in interest before you realize you’re still restrained.
“If it’s too much, we don’t have to.” Lucien is very clear about that, fingertips pressed into the sheets beside your hips.
“You really like when I give over control, don’t you?” You tease playfully.
“Como siempre.” He says softly before leaning down to nip at your breasts, eyes flicking up at you.
“Okay, yes. But—” You look up at your hands, bound but not uncomfortable, “maybe no blindfold. I’ll keep my eyes closed but I want to see you. I like being able to see you.”
Lucien nods in agreement, a slow and treatours pace he takes as he retreats, tongue dragging down the center of your body and still tasting slightly of citrus. He smirks at your obvious squirming before doing away with the blindfold and allowing himself to get everything else in order.
The gag comes first, a small muffled grunt as he tightens the strap around the back of your head, adjusting it until you give him a solid nod. It helped that despite your inability to communicate verbally that Lucien had created a way for you to rid yourself of your wrist restraints whenever everything felt a little too much but you weren’t worried about using your safe word, a small latch connected to the metal chain that linked you to the headboard, easily accessible. And then the headphones, an odd experience to say the least—you can’t imagine what kind of money Lucien wasted on these because they immediately drown out all noise, the small buds resting in your ears and relatively out of sight.
It feels ridiculous, but when Lucien speaks and you can’t hear, your heart races with an anticipation you’ve never felt before. Exhilaration, more like.
You have no other choice than to watch—watch as Lucien settles comfortably back, kneeling as he runs his fingers along the underside of his cock and down to his balls, cupping them and rolling them around leisurely, your eyes watching every single movement, teeth baring down gently around the ball as he fists him, fingers dragging over his shaft and working himself up quickly, his chest slightly flushed from a mix of your previous activities and now, his eyes never settling on one piece of your body for too long.
You communicate through nods and eye contact, feelings incredibly vulnerable in the moment, watching as Lucien pressed himself inside of you with slow intention and you swear you can hear the deep exhale he forces out through his nose as it flares before he settles and gives you no time at all to prepare, a small gasp escaping you as your finger tighten around the slack in the strap connection your wrist cuffs to the bed, a slow but deep snap of his hips that shatters your focus, back arching into his touch as his fingers run along your spine and dig in, gripping you tight, practically sitting in his lap with the angle he has you held at.
“Mi vida,” He sighs, knowing you can’t hear him, “mi vida, mi vida, mi vida,” growing quiet with every utterance of it, “too perfect for me, baby.”
The vibration of his voice is pressed against your collarbone, his nose dragging along the junction of your neck and you’re so curious of what he’s saying, but you try not to let your mind wander—not that he allows much of that, gradually switching the pace to something stronger.
You wished you were stronger than Lucien liked to give you credit for, but you do find that your impatience eats away at you, coming in short whines and pleading looks and Lucien catches your gaze, eyes soft and watery.
He’s breathing out in short grunts through his mouth and you can see his nose scrunch up as he groans, fingers digging into your skin, squeezing tight at your hips—you can’t do it anymore, reaching your fingers up to grasp at the latch keeping your arms hoisted up, falling back in a heap with Lucien pressed against your chest, hastily slipping your hands out of the binding.
Lucien catches on quickly, working the gag off and tossing it aside, hearing it clink heavily against a nearby object but neither of you bother looking and quickly discarding the headphones on the nightstand, his forearms coming around your head to barricade you in.
You’ve never felt more safe.
“Pobrecita, come on,” Lucien coos, “ask for it, yeah? You want me to touch you?” Lucien moans heavily against your skin, your own hands twisting it his hair, fingers curling gently around the back of his ears, “Want me to make you come with my cock inside you? Is that what you need?”
“Yes,” You whine softly, “touch me—please, just touch me.”
He doesn’t move quick enough, finding that your hand quickly searches for his own, pressing it between your bodies and his fingers know you, working like muscle memory as he circles your clit a combination of his middle and ring and it’s nearly instantaneous, a mix of built up tension and desperate need for release. Your fingers pinch at the skin of his neck as you come, pulling the hair at the nape of neck and breathing in a sharp gasp, mouth hung open in silence as your eyes squeeze shut.
“That’s it, baby.” Lucien breathes quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to your breast as you come, eventually finding your lips and kissing you thoroughly, silencing your weak moans, chest heaving deeply in the aftermath as he pulls back, nothing he’s on the edge himself.
“I want you in my mouth again,” You sound desperate, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze from where he towers over you, fists gripping the sheets, “wanna taste us together, baby.”
Lucien rises suddenly, one palm pressed against the headboard as he grips his cock with the other, quickly spilling over your stomach, a sigh punches from his chest as he comes down, flush with a slight embarrassment at how easily it was for you to work him up.
“Or not,” You say through a tired laugh, soft and airy, “too much?”
“Never.” Lucien assures, brow furrowing in amusement as he drags a finger through the mess he made, bringing it to your mouth and allowing you to suck, lick, and make an over the top and unnecessary show as you swallow his cum and Lucien feels his cock twitch between his legs, despite how tired his body felt.
“Jesus, princesa,” He laughs, “—greedy tonight?”
You mirror his actions, bringing your own finger into the mess before pressing it into his mouth—and Lucien opens with a lust-drunk grin, capturing your wrist in a tight grip and licking off his own spend from your finger.
“Absolutely.”
And thank god, because your night was far from over.
↝ beta: @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin
↝ divider credit: yours truly.
#lucien flores x reader#lucien flores x you#lucien flores x y/n#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal smut#my writing#little lady kinky may#lucien flores#pedro pascal
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I To Dig a Grave I Chapter 2 I
Summary: Twenty-one years after the outbreak, you come to Wyoming looking for something and end up in Jackson after a stranger saves your life.
But he doesn't stay a stranger.
Turns out Joel Miller is looking for something too. It feels like a fresh start. But when bad luck seems to follow you, Joel is the only one to turn to, forcing both of you to confront your feelings about your pasts- and each other.
Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader
Rating: Explicit / MDNI
Word count: 7k+
Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Age Difference, Smut, Explicit Content, Grief/Mourning, Mental Health Issues, Canon-Typical Violence, Chose not to use Archive Warnings, Tags to be added
AO3 LINK // Series Masterlist // Playlist
notes: i can't tell you all how i excited i am to get this fic going! thank you for the lovely comments on the first chapter, i promise there is a lot of cool stuff to come!
this fic will deal with heavy topics. please note that it doesn't use archive warnings and tags will be added as we go in order to avoid spoilers. each chapter will have detailed warnings in the end notes on ao3.
Chapter 2 - The Patrol
‘Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story.
There is no other version of this story.’
- Richard Silken, The Worm King’s Lullaby
There is a thin sheet of ice covering the streams that are heading downwards. It crunches under the hooves of their horses that dutifully carry them up the hill and past the gas station.
Joel is glad that it's Tommy next to him. He's more tense than he's felt in ages, a gnawing feeling in his stomach that has little to do with the skipped breakfast and a lot with the worry that is etched into the frown between his brows. He wouldn't want anyone to see him like this, much less try and calm him down, something he knows is a lost battle.
“They might be fine, Joel,” his younger brother says gently, just loud enough for him to hear. Tommy thinks there will be no response until one comes, a little too late for it to not be premeditated.
“She talked about leaving, sometimes. They would be stupid enough to run off-”
“And leave Jackson?” Tommy raises a brow. “Maria said their house looked normal, all their things still in place. They wouldn't be stupid enough to leave all that behind.”
Joel doesn't want to hear it. He knows, better than anyone. Knows that you wouldn't just leave, not without saying goodbye to the children you'd come to care about so much. Would you leave him without a goodbye?
He almost hopes you would. Because if you didn't leave willingly, what was the alternative? It would've been nearly impossible for someone to take you from inside Jackson with no one noticing. But he can't shake the feeling that something is off.
It’s Tommy who has to keep reminding him to ride slow, to keep an eye on the ground for possible tracks. Joel just wants to go, to spur Old Beardy on until they're galloping up the hill, despite not knowing where it is he needs to go. He just wants to find you. Preferably in one piece, happy and healthy.
He would’ve missed it.
The small footprints leading off the road and onto a smaller path, one that's twisting through pines and further into the woods.
Tommy nods. “Pretty sure ‘tis the one that leads to the hunting cabin.”
It only takes a few minutes for them to be sure. The wooden cabin is hidden away behind a few trees, difficult to spot if you don't know where to look. It doesn't really serve any purpose, at least not anymore. The roof at the back caved in years ago, allowing rain and plants alike to enter the dimly lit room. It’s less than five miles from the gate of Jackson, tucked away from the main road.
He can’t help but think that this would be the perfect place to run off to. Or to hide a body.
Joel is off his horse in a second, not even bothering to tie the stallion's halter to the wooden posts in front of the cabin. Without thinking, he tugs his revolver out of his waistband, using his foot to nudge the door open.
He smells it before his eyes even have a chance to adjust to the dim light. The unmistakable stench of blood. And mixed with it, creating an odor that immediately makes him sick to his stomach, the smell of gunpowder in the air.
***
The sun has been slowly rising while you’ve been flipping through the pages, trying to find the volumes you’re looking for. The library of Jackson, though rather small, has been frequented more and more, especially in the winter months when the weather doesn’t always allow activities outside and people resort to what they’ve always known: Books.
The entire place is supposed to be relocated soon, to a small store on main street. But compared to the greenhouses needing repairs and the stables being expanded, books don't seem to be a priority for most of the townsfolk.
“Books can’t feed us or keep us safe,” Maria pointed out when you brought the slow progress up to her. You politely disagree. You feel like you could live off books for the rest of your life.
Still, packing up everything means the old place, a shed tucked away behind the church, is currently a mess. Sagging bookshelves, a leaky roof and too many books for too little space means chaos. One that only few bother to navigate in its current state. You among them.
It was the crack of dawn when you slipped out of the house, deciding to let Lane sleep in while you walked through the still empty streets to the far end of the town, hoping to get the library work out of the way before the first lesson of the day.
Maria is the one that finds you, making your head peek up from between two shelves with a frown. “You changed your mind on those books?”
She gives a small laugh, one that sounds oddly like relief. Then her face becomes stern again, the look she carries much more often. “You two have some explaining to do, do you realize that?”
Now it's your turn to frown. “We two?” She pauses at that, looking around the small room. But there is no one here but you and her and the characters bleeding from the pages.
“Is Lane not with you?”
You shake your head, turning your attention back to the book in your hands. “She has the 8AM class today.”
“She's not there,” Maria curtly responds. You can tell she's trying to keep her voice steady but there is a hint of anxiety regardless.
“Then she overslept again,” you half guess-half ask, closing the book again.
“She's not at home either.”
An odd feeling crawls over your body. You can't remember what was in your hands a moment ago, but the question is forgotten in an instant. Maria carefully watches as you step out from between the shelves, her tone still gentle. “I've sent Tommy and Joel out to search. We thought you two snuck out.”
You feel numb as you shake your head. “No, I- I didn't see her this morning. I thought she was still asleep.” You rack your brain for the memories of this morning, of last night, of the last week even. But nothing comes to mind, nothing out of the ordinary.
“I was out late last night, finishing up some paperwork,” you mutter, more to yourself than the woman in front of you, retracing your steps in your mind. “Lane got home before me, I had dinner, we talked about blueberries-”
“Blueberries?” Maria asks, her hand already back on the doorknob. She seems restless and it's that fleeting detail that worries you more than anything. Maria stays in control. Always.
“Yeah, we- It doesn't matter. I don't know where she is,” you finish lamely, getting up and joining her at the door. But she hasn't moved yet.
“You should stay at home. I'm sure she'll show up again soon and if she comes back to your place, someone should be there.” You nod but your mind is already drifting again. Lane’s been doing fine, good. So have you, really. Maria gently reaches for your shoulder, steering you out of the shed and towards the church, down the street that leads to the center of Jackson.
You're passing the small graveyard that's protected by brick walls, the stones already withered, pale in contrast to the dark metal fence running along on top. The gate is ajar, but you barely pay it any attention as the information settles in your brain. It takes a few seconds for it to reach your mouth and leave your lips.
“She went out a few times.”
“Out?” Maria enquires, raising an eyebrow as her attention shifts back to you.
“I thought she'd met someone. Cat and her were pretty close and I figured-” You give a small shrug. It's more than uncomfortable, suddenly, and absurd, that you're discussing Lane's private life so openly, with Maria of all people.
“Don't tell her I said that,” you add quickly.
Maria nods as you reach the end of the brick wall. “I won't. I'll get back to the city hall and see if there’s any news yet. You go home.”
Your head nods as if on its own accord. Maria has already turned her back towards you when you pipe up. “Maria?”
She pauses, her back straightening a bit. “Yes?”
“You don't think anything happened to Lane, do you?”
The older woman shakes her head softly. “No. I'm sure she's fine. Now get home. Maybe she's already there.”
And she hurries off, leaving you at the corner of the street with a trembling body and a heavy feeling in your stomach. For a fleeting moment, you allow your thoughts to wander past the point you've been dreading to consider. What if something has happened? If Lane did sneak out, maybe with Cat, maybe alone, and got into some sort of situation? What if she's hurt?
The sky has turned from pink to a light blue, only a few clouds piling around the mountains on the horizon.
You glance down at your hands, shaking ever so slightly. You decide to blame it on the cold. The cold that may be getting to your head as well. Because after a few moments, you turn on your heels, heading for the stables. It's only a few rows of houses until the large wooden wall looms in front of you, blocking out the little sunlight you could get in the morning. The wall that protects you from what lies beyond. Infected and Raiders and maybe, you think, as you slip into the stables, maybe answers.
if you enjoyed the chapter, please consider reblogging/sharing and commenting, every single notif on this fic makes my heart swell with love <3
#to dig a grave#joel miller / reader#joel miller x reader#joel miller / you#joel miller x you#joel miller x female reader#joel miller / original female character#joel miller / oc#joel miller#fanfic#fanfiction#the last of us#the last of us part 2#tommy miller#ellie williams#softpascalito#tlou#hurt/comfort#angst#smut#grief/mourning#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal#joel miller fanfic#joel miller fanfiction#the last of us fanfiction#joel / reader#joel x reader#chapter 2
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Guilty as Sin? — Chapter Eight
pairing: professor!javier peña x f!reader
rating: series is 18+ only, minors DNI, professor/student dynamic, minor angst (javi is not the cause), unprotected piv, the professor kink gets a moment to shine, also maybe an anti-breeding kink?? vasectomy kink?? idk, these two are rudely interrupted by a special guest
word count: 5.2k
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“Professor.”
You greeted Javi with an air of indifference as you stopped at his desk on the way out of his Friday night lab, though your eyes told a completely different story when you caught a glimpse of the mark you’d left on him a few nights ago when he stayed over at your place.
Javi seemed to already know what you were thinking as he watched your eyes widen with a mixture of alarm and satisfaction, a smirk tugging at his lips.
“Yes?” he replied, forcing himself to sound as cold as he normally did when speaking to a student. “Can I help you with something?”
You shook your head, fighting back a smile. “Just saying goodnight.”
“Mm,” he hummed, ticking his jaw to the side as gave you a purposeful once over. You rolled your eyes in order to hide the fluster his gaze brought on before turning to leave the lecture hall. He called your last name, forcing you to freeze in place, watching as the last few undergrads filed out of the room. “Would you mind staying back to discuss today’s lab?”
You slowly spun towards him on your heel, your eyebrow raised in question. With the room now empty, you were free to speak normally with him. “Is this an actual meeting or your attempt at roleplay?”
“A little bit of both,” he replied, pushing off his desk to saunter across the room, his eyes never leaving yours once in the process. “Just wanted to thank you for helping out today.”
“Well, it is kind of my job to help,” you joked, stepping close enough to smell the cinnamon on his breath. “Is that all you wanted to say? Or is there something else you need from me?”
“There’s a world of things I need from you,” he husked, settling his hands on your hips before sliding them up to the small of your back. “A kiss will do for now, though.”
“Just one?”
Javier grinned, leaning down to brush his nose against yours. “For now.”
“I thought we said no fooling around on campus,” you breathed, the words a reminder not only to him but also to yourself.
“That was overly optimistic, I think,” he said, tipping your jaw up as he placed a soft, almost taunting kiss on your lips. “But maybe you’re right.”
“Uh-uh,” you replied, tugging him back into you as he playful tried to back away with his hands held up in surrender.
You kissed him, deeper this time. Javier groaned, walking you backwards until your thighs hit the edge of a desk. You gasped as he hoisted you onto the surface, your thighs bracketed around his waist.
“We really should stop,” he panted, kissing his way down your neck. “Anybody could walk in.”
“Then take me somewhere private,” you said, tossing your head back as he pressed his hips into yours.
“It’s late, aren’t you tired?” he asked, though his wandering hands did little to persuade you against letting him fuck you right here on this desk.
“Not when it comes to you,” you replied, popping one of the buttons of his shirt open to trace over the fresh hickey you’d given him last night when he showed up to your place unannounced but more than welcome.
“Fuck,” he squeezed your hips, dragging you closer. “Spend the weekend with me. We can hole up and eat like shit and fuck and build Legos.”
You smiled at the prospect, dragging your lips up to his jaw. “I’ll meet you in the parking garage.”
“Okay,” he nodded, giving you a lingering peck that turned into another one of his signature, mind melting, knock-you-on-your-ass kisses that had you panting when he finally pulled away. “I won’t be long, just have to pack my things up.”
“No rush,” you said, giving him a smitten look. Javier let out a soft groan, holding your face as he leaned in for one more.
Always just one more.
You had some time to kill as you waited for Javi to pack his things and shut everything down in the lecture hall, so you wandered into the campus cafe beside the parking structure reserved for faculty, desperate to get out of this mid-October chill.
The doorbell jingled as you stepped in, the scent of cinnamon and coffee grounds flooding your nostrils. Stepping into the small line leading up to the counter, you glanced around the room without purpose—a nervous tick you had. As your eyes locked onto a couple in a corner booth practically swallowing each other’s tongues, you quickly wished you hadn’t.
There, sitting on the same side of a booth, hands and lips all over each other, was none other than Nina and Derrick.
What the fuck?
You quickly averted your eyes, just in time to step up the the counter.
“Hi, can I get a hot chai latte and a drip coffee?” you asked, keeping your voice relatively hushed out of fear that Nina or Derrick would recognize it.
“How would you like the coffee?” the barista asked.
“Black, please,” you replied, recalling Javi��s signature order that still perplexed you even after a month of being together.
After giving her your name, you waited on the other side of the room by the shelves of tumblers and mugs, pretending to shop around while you hid out from your ex-roommates.
Unfortunately, all that hard work went down the drain the moment she called your name at the pick up counter—the one right next to their booth.
“Fuck me,” you muttered under your breath as you gathered the courage to go over and grab your drinks.
You tried not to look their way, but god, the sight of them together really got under your skin. You gave a careful glance in their direction, locking eyes with Derrick as he whispered something in Nina’s ear, causing her to turn towards you.
Taking a deep breath and plastering on a smile, you turned to them as they slid out of the booth.
“Hey,” you offered, mostly to Nina. Derrick let out a scoff and breezed past you to head outside while Nina grabbed her purse. She didn’t acknowledge you in the slightest, but too curious to back out now, you persisted. “Nina, it’s…me. You know…your friend for the last four years.”
“Oh,” she said, her tone bored as she gave you a forced smile. “Hey.”
You couldn’t help but chuckle at the two of them as an actual couple.
“So you guys are, like, together?” you asked, nudging your chin toward Derrick as he waited outside.
“Yeah,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “Is that a problem?”
“It’s just surprising, is all,” you said. “You know I didn’t lie about what happened, right? Like he really tried—“
“Well, he isn’t like that with me,” she snapped, raising a brow at you. “So maybe it was just you. Or maybe you created the whole thing in your head. Either way, it doesn’t affect me.”
You scoffed, a look of disbelief washing over your face. “We were friends before we ever met him. We went through everything together for four years, you and I, side by side. Doesn’t that affect you?”
“You made your choice, and honestly I’m glad,” she crossed her arms over her chest. “If you’d never abandoned us, D and I would’ve never connected that way. I had to pull him out of a very dark place after you left, and if you think I’m going to choose you—someone who’s always been half-out the door—over that good man? Well, I’m gonna have to disappoint you.”
“But he’s not a good man, Nina,” you argued, your disbelief turning into rage quicker than your face could keep up with. Tears still brimmed in your eyes, but that wardrum beat banging in your chest urged you to stand up for yourself. For what you knew was the truth. “He’s manipulative and narcissistic. He’ll probably marry you before the year ends, but once he puts that ring on your finger, you’ll be signing your freedom away. He doesn’t want a lawyer for a wife, he wants someone to have his kids and look after his pretty house and wear on his arm like a trophy. And you are the trophy, here, but not for the reasons he thinks.”
She let her face sour, but there was no mistaking the look of knowing in her eyes. She knew you were right, but unfortunately for her, it was easier just to ignore it.
“Have a nice night alone,” she said, looking you up and down before turning to leave the cafe.
You fought back tears, grabbing your drinks and heading out the door as soon as they left. Telling yourself it was the cold wind that forced a few tears to stream down your cheeks, you entered the parking garage and made it to Javier’s black BMW without running into anyone else. Javier was already seated in the driver’s seat, scrolling through his phone to find an album for the commute from campus to his apartment, when you opened the passenger door and climbed in.
“Thank you, baby,” he said, accepting the coffee you handed over without looking his way. “Ready to go?”
“Mmhm,” you said, turning to look out of the passenger window so that you could subtly wipe your tears away.
Javier pulled out the garage, his thumbs tapping on the steering wheel as you sat uncomfortably silent, causing him to glance over at you.
“You okay?” he asked. You turned to him, fresh tears streaming down your cheek. “Hey, what happened? What’s wrong?”
“It's stupid. I just...I ran into Nina and Derrick at the cafe,” you said, your voice throaty from your tears. “Guess they’re dating now. But that’s not…I’m not even upset about that. It’s just the way she treated me when I tried to say hello to her. She was so fucking cold and mean, like…just an entirely different person than the one I knew.”
He frowned, reaching one hand over to stroke his thumb over your cheek, catching a tear as it fell.
“Also, just…” You shook your head, unable to locate the proper words to describe the feeling of losing someone that had been your best friend for so much of your adult life. “It just sucks, you know? Knowing that she picked him over me. She said believes him and told me to fuck off, basically.”
Javier let his hand rest on your thigh, taking careful glances between you and the road. “One day she’ll realize the mistake she made, cariño. She’ll be an unhappy housewife trying to reach out to you to make amends, but you’re going to be too busy with your career and me to give a single shit about her. You’re the winner in this situation, and she’ll realize that eventually.”
You couldn’t help but smile at him as he included himself in your future. A subtle, easy to miss declaration of his intent for this relationship, but one that did its job, pulling you back into the light again. You laid your hand on top of his, lacing your fingers together. “You’re gonna stick around that long, huh?”
He smiled, giving your fingers a squeeze. “If you decide to keep me around.”
“Keep saying shit like that and I will,” you said, lifting his palm up to your lips. “Thank you for listening to my rant.”
“You never have to thank me for that,” he said. “That’s what I’m here for.”
“Oh, I thought it was just for the hot sex.” Javier let go of your hand to pinch your thigh.
“Smart ass.”
After a quickie that was followed by you and Javi splitting an entire pizza between yourselves, the two of you got to work building Javi’s Death Star. You remained interested for an hour or so, then chose to take a much needed shower while he kept on building. When you returned, he was still at it, tinkering away while you got to work on some assignments a few feet from him on the sofa.
But the hours kept passing, your eyes growing tired just from watching him work. When the clock neared three in the morning, you decided it was time to pull out the big guns. You excused yourself to the bathroom, stripping out of the clothes you’d been in all day, and gave yourself a once over in the mirror, pleased at what you saw.
You tiptoed out of his bedroom, coming to stand behind him as he sat on the sofa.
“You’ve been at it for a while,” you crooned, draping your arms over his shoulders and chest before settling your chin on his shoulder. Javi lifted a hand to your arm, giving it a gentle rub as he leaned back into the couch.
“Yeah,” he sighed, turning his head to kiss your cheek. “But I’m in a good groove.”
“You could be in something else,” you purred. “Close your eyes.”
“Why?”
“Because I asked you to,” you said, letting him go in favor of rounding the corner of the sofa. Javi obeyed your demand, keeping his eyes closed as you stepped over one of his knees to stand between his legs. “Okay, you can open.”
Javi slowly opened his eyes, finding you completely bare in front of him, offered up like a midnight snack.
“Fuck me,” he breathed, taking you in. “You’re right. I do need a break.”
You laughed, straddling his lap. “What you need is for me to fuck you good enough to put you to sleep. It’s three in the morning.”
“I know,” he sighed, running his hands up your thighs. “I can just go to bed, if that’s—“
“Uh-uh,” you tutted your tongue at him. “I told you what I wanted—to fuck you so good I put you to sleep.”
Javi let out a soft groan, gliding his hands up to cup your breasts. “What heaven did you sneak out of?”
“It was hell, actually.” Javi laughed, placing a kiss on your sternum.
“God, I love you,” he murmured against your skin, the confession slipping out before he could stop it. Your eyes went wide, not from fear but from amusement as Javi lifted his own pair of wide eyes to meet yours. “I didn’t…that wasn’t…I—“
“Javi,” you laughed, cupping his face in your hand. Your face softened as you took him in. “You love me?”
“Yeah,” he nodded, swallowing thickly. “I do.”
You grinned, kissing him through it. “That’s good because I’m pretty sure I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you.”
“Yeah?” he asked, a look of relief washing over his face. “It’s not too soon?”
“I’m surprised either of us waited this long,” you laughed. “We’ve known each other for three months. Just because we’ve only been together a month doesn’t mean anything. At least not to me.”
“Not to me, either,” he said, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you down with him as he shifted to lay on his back across the sofa. He slid his hand between your thighs, his jaw going slack as he smeared your arousal over your clit with a sinful groan. “All this for me, hermosa?”
You nodded, reaching to tug his flannel pajama bottoms down just enough to free his dick, laughing as it sprang free with a lewd slap against his stomach. You dragged a single finger down the underside of his cock, licking your lips as you watched it twitch with interest. “Such a pretty dick.”
“Only fitting for the prettiest fucking pussy I’ve ever seen,” he replied, bringing his soaked fingers up to his lips to suck them clean. “And so fucking sweet, too.”
“Fuck, you’re so hot,” you moaned, leaning down to kiss the taste of yourself off his lips. Javier groaned as you lined him up at your entrance.
“Fuck, wait,” he said. “Condom.”
“Or we could…not,” you suggested bashfully, biting your lip as you watched him react. “I just mean that I’m clean. I got tested the week before school started and I haven’t been with anyone but you since. And I’m on birth control, so no worries on that front either.”
Javi nodded. “I’m clean too, and I got a vasectomy a few years back, so we’re completely good on that front.”
You lifted your brows in delighted surprise, causing him to laugh. “What, bebita?”
“I just…I’m so glad I get to fuck you raw now and never have to worry about an accidental pregnancy,” you said, laughing at your own response. “It’s hot.”
“Then go on and show me how hot it is, baby,” he urged, trailing his fingertips down your spine. “Sit on my dick, hermosa.”
You let out a soft breath at his command, looking down between your bodies as you lined him up with your entrance and slowly took him in. Javi’s lips parted as he watched himself disappear into your wetness, his brows knitted together.
“Fuck, you feel so good like this,” he husked, bringing his thumb to swirl over your clit as you swallowed him down to his base. “So fucking wet.”
Your face scrunched a bit in pleasure as you lifted yourself up just to slide back down while Javi continued working your swollen bud with one hand, the other gripping your hip. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me come quick tonight, cariño.”
“Yeah?” you purred, rocking your hips a bit. Feeling extra bold tonight, you fought a smirk as you added, “Are you gonna come inside me, Professor?”
Javi’s jaw went slack again, a mixture of incredulity and arousal washing over his face. “Fuck, that shouldn’t turn me on as much as it does. Keep talking, cariño. I love the shit that comes out of your mouth when I’m fucking you.”
You moaned at his confession, speeding up your hips to bounce on him.
“Fuck, it feels so good. I can feel you in my stomach every time I take you in like this—” You sank down on him and swirled your hips in a circle to grind him in deep. Javier growled, holding your hips in place as he thrusted up into your cunt, filling the living room with the lewdest of sounds.
“Am I fucking you good, cariño?” he asked, a playful taunt. You cried out, one arm gripping the back of the couch while the other rested on his chest. “Is your professor fucking you how you want? Hm?”
“It’s so good, Javi,” you cried, your hips chasing his thrusts.
“Uh-uh. Not Javi,” he tutted. “Who am I, baby?”
You opened your eyes to meet his, the sight alone almost enough to bring you to the edge. “You’re my professor.”
“Mmhm,” he hummed, a smug smirk growing on his lips as he gave your ass a slap. “Good fucking girl.”
“Shit,” you whined, moving to rest your palms flat against his chest as you rolled your hips on top of him. His hands guided your hips, forcing you as close as possible. Your clit dragged deliciously against the coarse hair on his lower stomach, causing your thighs to shake with every rock forward. “Fuck, I’m close. I’m so fucking close.”
“That’s it,” he rasped, his voice warm with desire. “Good girl, baby. Ride your professor's dick just like that.”
“Oh, fuck,” you moaned, your head dropping between your shoulders as you inched closer to heaven with every grind against his cock. “Javi—“
The sound of a fist knocking on Javi’s door caused you to jolt, your eyes widening as you sat frozen in place on top of him.
“Who the fuck…” Javi groaned, a sound of pure frustration. “Whoever it is, fuck off!”
A muffled southern accent sounded in response. “It’s Steve, dumbass. Tell your guest I take precedence and let me in.”
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Javi’s eyes shut, a sigh slipping from his lips. “I have to let that fucking idiot in.”
“Why?” you asked, that tension in your belly still begging to be unraveled.
“He’s my best friend, unfortunately. An out-of-state best friend who I hoped I wouldn’t have to see a million times a year, an yet...here he is,” he sighed, sitting up to kiss you. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“I was so close,” you groaned, laying your head on his shoulder. “Now I have to finish myself off alone.”
Javier pulled back to give you a look of pure offense.
“Don’t give me that look,” you chuckled, smoothing the crease in his brow with your thumb. “It was your decision to let him come in.”
“Well, now I’m rethinking that stupid decision,” he said, but the moment had already passed—especially knowing that there was someone waiting on the other side of the front door for you to finish.
“No, go let him in, I’ll just be waiting for you in bed,” you said, climbing off of him with a soft hiss. “And tell your friend he owes me for this. A no-expenses-spared steak dinner or something.”
“Will do, baby,” he said, planting a soft kiss in your lips as he stood up to join you, tucking his half-hard dick away. “I’ll be in there soon, don’t get started without me.”
“I’ll think about it,” you snarked, earning a gentle pat to your ass.
As you let Javi’s bedroom door shut behind you, you grabbed Javi’s robe from his en-suite and tugged it on as you lingered by the door to eavesdrop on their conversation.
“You fucking dick,” Javi said, earning a hearty laugh from Steve. “You couldn’t have called to tell me you were coming to town?”
“You know I can’t stand all that calling and texting bullshit,” he drawled. “Jesus, Javi. On the couch? That’s where I’m supposed t’be sleepin’ this weekend, you fucker.”
“If I knew you were coming, fucker, I would’ve cleaned up, but—“
“Is that the fuckin’ Death Star?”
You let out a soft laugh at the sheer disbelief in Steve’s voice.
“Javi Peña buildin’ Legos,” he whistled. “What’s the world comin’ to?”
“Are you gonna tell me why you’re here?” Javi asked.
“Are you gonna introduce me to your friend?” Steve replied. Your eyes went wide as heavy footsteps on hardwood got closer and closer to the bedroom door. “Hello, Javi’s friend. I’m Javi’s other friend. Glad there’s finally two of us.”
You chuckled, hesitating for a moment before deciding to open the door up. Javi stood in the living room with his hand on one hip, unamused by Steve’s behavior. You turned your eyes to the man standing a few feet away from the door. He was blonde with blue eyes, and much like Javi, could somehow pull off the mustache look and make it look good.
“Hey,” you chuckled, giving him your name. “I gotta say, Steve, I haven’t heard much about you. Is Javi hiding you away?”
“He just likes to play hard to get, is all,” Steve smirked. “What about you? You Javi’s girlfriend, or is he hidin’ you away too?”
You turned to Javi with an expectant, but amused look. He’d never officially given you the title, nor you him, but it certainly felt like you were his girlfriend.
“Yes, she’s my girlfriend,” he sighed, not at you but at Steve. “Now can you stop bothering her and let her go to bed, dip shit?”
You laughed, turning back to Steve. “It was nice meeting you, Steve. Don’t keep him up long, he and I were in the middle of something.”
Steve laughed, looking towards his best friend.
“I like her.”
Twenty minutes went by before Javi slipped into the bedroom, carefully clicking the door shut as you laid with your back facing him, pretending to be asleep. There was a quiet rustling before you heard him tiptoeing across the room to crawl into bed behind you. He let out a soft, adoring sigh as his hand ghosted up your bare arm, his lips trailing across your shoulder to your neck.
“You asleep, hermosa?” he rasped, kissing the shell of your ear. You smirked, rolling over just enough to look at him.
“How am I supposed to sleep like this?” You lowered his hand across your stomach, down beneath the comforter to slip between your thighs. You guided his fingers to stroke up and down your soaked seam before sinking them inside.
“Fuck,” Javi’s lips parted, a strangled, quieted groan slipping free as he curled his fingers against that spot you loved so much, his palm grinding against your clit with every thrust. “You want me to make you come, baby?”
You bit your lip and nodded, reaching between your bodies to stroke him through his pajamas only to find he’d taken them off when he came into the room. You licked a broad stripe across your palm before taking him in your hand, stroking him while he pumped his fingers in and out of you with a lewd squelch.
“How do you want it, cariño?” he asked, bucking his hips into your fist to meet every stroke.
“From the back,” you said, letting him go in favor of rolling onto your stomach to arch your back for him. Javi growled, coming to sit on his knees behind you as you wiggled your hips at him.
“Fuck,” he whispered, his hands gripping the globes of your ass in each palm. “I’m not gonna last long, baby. You look too fucking good like this.”
You keened at his praise, pushing back towards him as he notched himself at your entrance. You both let out sighs of relief as he pressed inside, going slow as he let your greedy cunt suck him in deep. “Your pussy’s so fucking good, baby.”
You let out a soft whine, burying your face in the pillows to muffle your moans as he snapped his hips into you, steady building up to a brutal pace that had you gripping the sheets. You turned your head, looking over your shoulder as Javi fucked you, finding him with bared teeth, his hair messy across his forehead, his stomach flexing with each sharp thrust into your cunt.
“Fuck,” he hissed, tugging you back by your arms until your spine was bowed against his chest. He kept your arms pinned between your bodies with one hand, the other gently wrapping around your throat. “Fucking love this pussy…fucking love you.”
You whined, the sound loud enough to make Javi slide his hand up to cover your mouth. He brought his lips to your ear and whispered. “Those sounds are just for me, aren’t they, bebita?”
You nodded against him, reaching back to hold his head in place as he nipped at your jawline. Sliding a hand down your stomach, Javi rubbed perfect circles against your clit in time with each one of those ruinously deep thrusts against the velvet soft roof of your cunt.
“I’m gonna come, cariño,” he whined, his hips losing a bit of their rhythm. “Come for me. Come on my cock and I’ll fill you up, baby.”
You were thankful for his hand over your mouth as you cried out, a wave of pleasure washing over you, turning you into putty in his arms as he fucked you through it. “That’s it, baby. Fuck, you’re squeezing me so fucking tight. You’re gonna make me come.”
“Please,” you moaned as Javi dropped his hand from your mouth to hold both of your hips in place as he chased his release. “Come inside my pussy.”
He groaned as he pressed in as deep as he could go, the sound choked and strangled as he tried to keep quiet. You stroked your hand up and down the arm he’d moved to wrap around your middle as his cock throbbed inside of you.
“Fuck me,” he panted, slipping out of you with a hiss before guiding you back against the mattress. He climbed out of bed to retrieve a washcloth, returning with it perfectly warmed by the sink. You watched him clean you up with a smitten look, his dimple making an appearance.
“What’s got you so smiley?” you asked, rolling onto your side to watch as he cleaned himself off before tossing the cloth into the laundry bin.
“Besides the mind-blowing orgasm I just had?” he replied, shooting you a smile from over his shoulder as he opened his dresser drawer, pulling out a pair of briefs. “Just happy.”
“Yeah?” you asked, twisting your smile to keep it from growing into a cheesy grin as you admired the sight of him in his briefs as he walked over to climb into bed beside you.
“Yeah,” he affirmed, coaxing you to lay your head on his chest. “I haven’t been this happy in a long, long time, cariño.”
“Me too,” You placed a kiss over his racing heartbeat, smoothing your hand across his stomach. “It’s a little scary, no?”
“Very fucking scary,” he said, placing a kiss on your forehead. “But it’s not gonna stop me.”
You smiled to yourself, drawing hearts on his skin. “Is everything okay with Steve?”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “Him and Connie, his wife, got into it over him continuing his contract with the DEA, I guess. So he’s staying with me until things cool off, which will hopefully be by tomorrow morning because I can’t have him being our third wheel.”
“Why not?” you laughed, lifting your head to look at him.
“Because I want you all to myself like the selfish asshole I am,” Javi said, smiling. “Also Steve’s really amused by the fact that I have a girlfriend, which means he’s going to try and embarrass me as much as he can in front of you.”
“Well, he can certainly try but my mind is pretty made up,” you said, pinching his chin. “I love you, Javier, and no amount of embarrassing stories from Steve is going to change that.”
“He’s also a hillbilly, which comes with its own warnings,” he said, lifting your fingertips to his lips to place soft kisses on them one by one.
“How about we see how it goes in the morning, and if either one of us gets tired of the questions or whatever, I can just go home and give you some time alone together,” you suggested.
“Okay,” he murmured, his eyelids growing heavy with sleep. You leaned up, placing a soft kiss to his lips.
“Goodnight, Javi,” you said, turning to get comfortable on your side. Javi spooned you, draping his arm over your middle and pulling you close.
“Goodnight, cariño,” he murmured. “I love you.”
You smiled, hugging his arm tight to your chest. Those three words would never fail to make your heart clench.
“I love you too, Javi.”
#guilty as sin?#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal fanfiction#javier peña x reader#javier pena smut#javier pena fic#javier pena fanfiction#javier pena x you#javier pena narcos#javier pena x reader#javi peña#javier peña#javier pena fluff
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the melting point {chapter 20}
Pairing: Frankie Morales x Baker! Reader (ex EMT! Reader)
Summary: The anniversary of meeting one Fransisco Morales approaches and with it, your marriage to the man who had become such a large part of your life in all the best ways.
Word Count: 9.1k
Warnings: hurt and comfort, light angst, mild violence, one (1) instance of police abusing their power, talk of past gun violence, ptsd, reader has trauma similar to the triple frontier guys, reader is described as having tattoos for plot points, reader is handicapped, reader uses a cane and wheelchair, reader has mobility issues, adult content, smut, p in v smut, oral (m and f receiving), the whole gang is here, plus oc inserts, hints at a threesome perhaps (haha what?), sappy feelings, sexual feelings, joel and his part of the miller clan make an appearance, mentions of nausea, bodies are weird and so are emotions, (hopefully) good cliffhanger, lemme know if i missed anything else!
A/N: we made it, we did it. y'all this is the last chapter of this labor of love. i lost sight of it for a while there but i saw it through to the end and just a few days shy of the anniversary of the first chapter being posted!! thank y'all so much for being along for the ride ♡
ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi
“Frankie! Frankie put me down!” You shout, laughter stalled in your throat as the man holds you tight in his grip and starts to walk down the deck.
“Nu-uh, you were badmouthin’ me. Gonna teach you a lesson.” You can’t see the look on his face but you can see the other’s all trying to contain their laughter as your thrown over his shoulder and uselessly pound your fists on his broad back.
“Do not throw me in that water! They’re things in there!”
“It was just a lil snake, mante! He’s more scared of you than you are of him!”
Your next words transform into a scream as Frankie shifts you to cling to his front, arms making sure your secure before he steps right off the last plank of sun warm wood and plunges you both into the water.
“Fransisco!” You shout as you bob up to the surface, legs kicking and arms flailing to keep your head up above the surface. He’s nowhere to be seen and you panic for a moment that you might have kicked him too harshly and he can’t make his way up to the surface. But something grabs a hold of your leg and you’re being pulled down.
He’s right in front of you underneath the surface, bubbles sprouting from his nose as he tries not to laugh at the shocked expression on your face. To sooth you, he swoops in and kisses you deep, giving you the very air from his lungs.
As the sun dips below the horizon, a fire is started in the put right on the deck. The crackling of split wood, bright glowing embers, and raucous laughter float about the air. Someone had come up with the idea to turn a regular game of poker into one of strip. The guys may be good at keeping their cool in tense situations, their training allowing them to think they would have the upper hand. But between you, Morgan, and Isabella whispering conspiratorially amongst yourselves and draping bare arms and legs over each other across the outdoor furniture as you help each other with cards gripped in loose hands, the cast of firelight illuminating the scene for their eyes alone, they had never stood a chance.
They all end up as stark naked as the day they were born, while all three of you have only a few pieces of clothing now exposing bikinis and skin that glowed in the fading firelight. And when Benny makes a beeline for the water at the end of the deck, Santiago is hauling a shrieking Morgan into his shoulder to follow suit. She slaps at his backside and you feel your face heat up as you realize what his clothes hint at is very much not an exaggeration. Frankie catches you eye with a twist of his own lips, but no one sees the way he pulls you into his lap to swallow your weak argument.
It's far too late when everyone is trudging from the cool water, droplets catching moonlight and tired muscles protesting the fun filled day now that it’s come to an end. You fall asleep atop Frankie’s chest in a matter of minutes, his lips pressed to your hair and his voice whispering his love for you.
Florida was a beautiful place to live, the winters weren’t too bad but the storms were. It rained the entire drive back from the cabin, something you suspected Will and Santiago had planned, knowing everyone was going to need a few days to recuperate after the fun of the week. Frankie pulled into the school parking lot just in time to see the bus begin to unload. The children were ushered into a line and lead down the main outdoor hall towards the two buildings of classrooms. Lex looked just as tired as the others, her bright purple umbrella standing out as she held it over her and a classmate.
“We’re giving her two options,” Frankie turned to you as the truck engine idled, holding up two fingers in a peace sign. “Pizza or that Japanese place you both like so much.”
“But-“
“Two options, and those are it.”
“What if-“
“Querida,” He sighs, no match for your wide eyes and pursed lips.
“I’ll be such a good girl for you later, please Fransisco?” You look up at him through your lashes and lean over the empty space on the bench seat between you, letting the collar to your dress dip lower than was appropriate for a school parking lot. It was blaringly obvious you hadn’t put on a bra that morning when you were packing up the sleep clothes and Frankie was mesmerized by the generous view of your cleavage. His hand holding up the peace sign fell to his lap and he shifted to fix himself, beginning to swell at the combination of you begging and the skin on display.
“You want that Mexican place that has the birria ramen, don’t you?”
“Please, Fransisco, I’ve been craving it like mad.”
“You play dirty, sweet girl.” He huffs out as you reach out a hand to caress it down his right arm, following the line of his down to where his hand rested over his lap. Sneaking it under his own, you press your palm fleetingly to the front of his jeans where the shape of him is semi-hard. At his gasp you’re pulling away and back to your side of the bench seat, phone in hand to bring up their menu for Lex to choose from.
“Yeah, but you like it.” You tease with a peek of your tongue between your teeth. He just rolls his eyes before grabbing his wallet from where it was nestled in your bag in the footwell.
“Mhm, love it, love you. Be right back,” He shoots you conspiratorial smirk before he’s moving out of the truck and down the walkway toward the building. He’s left the truck on so the humidity doesn’t seep into the cab of the vehicle.
Later that night, after Lex is in bed after a bath, Frankie slips into the guest room he had moved most of yours and his stuff into until the renovation. You’re fast asleep in the bed, curled up on your side with your hands balled up in front of you. The lamp is still on and your phone is half underneath the pillow you’re resting on as if it fell out of your grip. Your hair is loose and damp from your own attempt to wash the hours on the road away. The oversized shirt you’re wearing it one of his and he can tell you had tried to pull the covers over you but they only got as far as your hips. The two cats are curled up in the crook of your knees and on your pillow beside your head.
Lex had been so overjoyed at the realization that they were coming along with you when Frankie had asked her how she felt about you moving in with them. He now finds her taking her duties to make sure they have water and kibble very seriously, letting you or him know when they’re due for another bag way before one is needed. She didn’t want them to get mad at her if they noticed how low their container is, but he assured her that they weren’t that observant with an amused chuckle.
Sighing your name, he smiles as he leans over to press a kiss to your forehead as he pulls the covers up all the way. He knew you were gonna pass out the second your head hit the pillow, with the way you had begun to doze off on the couch after dinner, some cartoon on the screen to mildly occupy everyone in their hazy and lethargic state. He doesn’t fault you, he knows the week was long for you even if you hadn’t said as much. The swimming in the lake was a relief on your joints as much as it was irritating but he was glad you enjoyed yourself. You deserved it.
Your phone gets plugged into a charger and he makes sure to turn the lamp off on his way back out the door. He tidies up the kitchen from the scattered havoc of take out containers, plastic utensils, and to go cups, making sure it all goes out into the trash right inside the garage. Mind running, he snatches his own phone from the front pocket of his jeans and sends a text off to Joel Miller, double checking that they’re all set for their flight in the morning. As he waits for a response, he sees your truck parked and sitting there, a spot of oil beneath it staining the concrete of the ground.
Frowning he pops the hood and checks it out, making sure everything is okay for you to drive around tomorrow, ensures that your handicap placard is securely in place over the rearview mirror. He spots the large manilla envelope with your handicap emblazoned license and makes sure to replace your old one before he wipes down the dash and cleans out the various left behind items. The cab smells of your perfume and he smiles to himself as he basks in it. Warm vanilla and jasmine, a hint of citrus. You, so unbelievably you that it makes his heartrate pick up.
Something brushes up against his pant leg as he’s leaning into the cap, trying to get something that had fallen under the seat and he startles, bashing his hand on the mechanics of it. Removing himself, he looks down to see the form of your large tabby.
“Hey, Rig, just making sure your mami’s truck is all set for tomorrow.” He bends to scratch between the big guys ears, earning a purr of contentment. “We gotta get her a different car, though, huh bud?”
A long drawn out meow is the cat’s answer.
“What do you think she’d want?” Frankie picks up his phone and hits the button for Benny. The man’s magnetic energy and charming smile his best aid in the endeavor he had been silently thinking on since your release from the hospital. Once you had been cleared to drive, it was a larger worry, you having to climb up into the truck. He was able to help you when you rode with him, but he worried for you when you were out and about on your own.
“Fish, I literally just spent the whole week with you. I love you too, man, but I just laid down for the night.”
“Hey, yeah, sorry. Mind’s just firin’ away.”
“Is everything okay?” Shuffling can be heard down the line, Benny’s tone shifting to one of mild concern.
“Yeah, everything’s fine. Lex and Mante are asleep, but I wanted to ask if you were able to go car shopping with me tomorrow.”
“For Manté?”
“Yeah, figured you could help charm the sales representatives and maybe co-sign if my standing isn’t good enough.”
“I’ll do you one better, I’ll sign it and gift it to you. Wedding gift.”
“I don’t-“
“I ain’t worried about it, I got a business to use as collateral. Get me a cheaper rate if they don’t let me just outright purchase something. I want to.”
“Ma’am, you can’t park there. That’s for handicapped civilians only.” A security guard approaches you, ticket book already flipped open. But you just reach for the cane secured in the passenger side and begin the process of getting down from the slightly heightened cab.
“I know.” Is all you say as you, reaching for your bag once your feet are on the ground. But as you turn your back, a shadow falls over you and a hand is wrapping around your upper arm.
“Ma’am, a cane you don’t need is not a good enough cover. Please get back in your vehicle and park somewhere else.”
“I will not be doing that and better get your hands off of me.” You try to be as gentle as you can with yanking your arm away, but you end up jostling not only yourself but he officer who hadn’t expected you to move in such a way. He’s frowning at you, one hand reaching for you again and the other behind his back for what you assume are his cuffs.
“Please don’t make write up a report for resisting arrest AND a ticket.”
“I’m not doing anything except trying to park to pick up my friends.” Bag on your shoulder, you grip the door to the truck and make to close it but the can in your right hand is suddenly gone, your balance along with it. Pain crawls sharp across your entire waist and down your right leg, it had been sore from the second you woke up. “Hey!”
“This,” The officer brandishes your cane now in his hand. Your eyes connect with a few curious passerby and you silently plead with someone, anyone to see that this is uncalled for. “Can be considered a weapon, I’m eradicating the threat and asking for your ID so I can run in through the system.”
“No, you won’t.” You lean heavily against the extended part of the cab, trying to get any weight off your lower half you can but the feeling is slowly waning from your legs. Reaching for your phone, you suddenly find yourself spun around and your front is pressed harshly into the vehicle. “Hey! I need my phone, I need you to get off of me before I fall!”
“There’s no need to shout.”
“Yes there is! You’re hurting me! You took my cane from me, and my hip is hurting!”
“Excuse me, I believe the lady told you to back off.” A deep southern drawl breaks the growing hysteria and frustration, a small crowd gathering around the designated handicap parking right outside the pick up area between the bus lanes and the actual lanes of traffic. You turn your head as best you can with your cheek flush against the silver of your truck to see a pair of tall men and two young girls by back of the parking spot you had chosen to pull into.
The two men who you were supposed to have met inside, Joel and Tommy Miller. And they were stunningly handsome, the girls absolutely gorgeous as they peeked out from behind them.
This was so not how you wanted the first interaction with the two men to go. You had wanted to walk into the baggage claim area and display a cute sign for them, greet them with a smile and drive them to the bakery to show them the apartment they would be living in for the duration of the renovation.
Definitely not this way, them curiously and maybe hesitantly leaving the cool, conditioned atmosphere of the airport in search of you only to find you about to get arrested. Even if they were an extension of your close knit friend group, it wasn’t a good impression.
“Sir, please, this has nothing to do with you.”
“I reckon it does, you got my client pinned up against her truck and her cane in your hand.” Joel stepped forward and your cane dropped from the officers hand to clatter on the ground as he reached for his holstered firearm. “Hey now, all I’m askin’ is that you let her go and we can calmly talk this over.”
“There’s no talking now, she’s illegally parking in a handicapped spot, ignored my questions, and started to resist physical restraint!”
“I’m not illegally parked! My placard is on the rearview mirror and I have it on my license plate!”
“Ma’am you need to calm-“
“Do not tell me to calm down!” You shout, officially at your capacity for the sheer stupidity of the entire situation. Another office is approaching, a woman with two small kids leading him. He calmly asks what the problem is from the other officer, who keeps insisting on what he thinks is happening, checks for the placard and the symbol on your license plate and then turns to you once he orders the man holding you to step back.
“Would you mind if I run your plates and ID?” He’s helping to support you as Joel reaches for your fallen cane. He wants to bring it to you but he’s hesitant at the arrival of the second officer, the crowd thickening around, and the way your breath is quickening as you reach into your bag. “Sir, you can step forward, it’s alright.”
He does so immediately, a calming hand wrapping around your waist to help steady you as he makes sure you have a good grip on the cane with a shaking hand. He helps you to slip the card for the officer from your wallet when he sees you can’t manage it with one hand. His fingers are warm against yours as he gently helps you, towering over you as much as Frankie does.
“Thank you, I’ll be right back with this. I apologize for the out of line conduct.”
“Out of line?!” The first officer sputters, looking very much like he’s about to step toward you but at a hard look from the second one he stills and quiets.
“Are you okay, darlin’?” Joel’s deep baritone is close, he’s leaning down a little to speak lowly to you, trying to calm you as best he could despite just meeting you for the first time.
“Yeah, yes. I just…I just need a minute to breathe.”
“Do you need to sit down?”
“I- yeah.” You nod, registering the sound of the truck gate being lowered and then being carefully set atop it to get the weight of your body off of your lower limbs. Tommy is perching beside you, introducing himself with a bashful smile and a compliment on your tattoos. Small talk and introductions are made while you’re waiting for the officers to return, all easy going even if your nerves feel shot and your body is aching.
The second officer returns with an apology and a reassurance that you were well within your rights to park in the spot you had. His words were repeated a few times, something striking you as him trying to avoid a lawsuit. But you weren’t interested in doing anything like that, you had just wanted to park and go about your task of picking up the Miller family. With a sigh you wish the man a good day and brace your hands beside you on the lowered gate.
But Tommy is shoving off of it and offering to help you get down.
You idly wonder what Frankie is up to as you drive across town, the airport on the outskirts. He had left you a note by the coffee maker saying he had some errands to run with Benny. Wedding stuff, he had written and you had felt so touched by the way he was willing to participate in the planning and decisions. Past relationships had split at the mere thought of marriage in your mind, as if they could sense the way it began to linger. But Frankie, for all the time and miscommunication it had taken to get here, was all in. You loved him, who he was, who he had been, all versions of who he had to be. Because it meant you got him as he was now, and he was perfect. Through all the heartbreak, he had been worht waiting for.
“This is the bakery! There’s parking along the front and a small lot to the left but,” You guide the truck down the alley between the right side and the next building over. “There’s a gated space behind it big enough for two cars and the delivery trucks when orders are dropped off. I hope they aren’t too loud in the mornin’ for you, but apologies if they are.”
“And you’re sure it’s okay if we stay here, Pastel?” Tommy asked from the back seat, somehow he had been convinced to sit in the middle of the bench, the girls on either side of him with a window. Even if his only wan argument had been that they had the window seats on the plane. But it was endearing the way he gave in, as if he would even think about denying the teenagers anything they asked for. Within reason, you figured as he winked at you through the rearview mirror as they loaded up.
“Of course, I don’t live here anymore since moving in with Frankie, even before the shooting.”
“What was it like, being shot? It was more than once, right?” Ellie turned from her window to look at you. Tommy is immediately elbowing her in disapproval as Joel tenses up in the passenger seat.
“Ellie, that is completely inappropriate. Darlin’, I am so sorry.” Joel shoots her a look as best he could, turning in his seat beside you. “She doesn’t need an answer to that, right?”
“No, I’m sorry.” She huffs out, crossing her arms and avoiding her father’s eyes.
Once parked, everyone piles out and you lead them through the backdoor. Motioning to the door leading to the apartment before walking them through the kitchen and to the café of the bakery. The girls fawn over the pink and pastel color palate of the place, the treats in the case, and the whole vibe of the shop. Joel and Tommy taking you up on the offer of coffee to refuel after the flight.
“There are two rooms, but the guest room has a queen and the main room has the same. The sofa turns into a bed as well, so whatever you’re all comfortable with and works best for you. There’s a laundry room but only one bathroom that’s connected to the main bedroom and the corner of the kitchen. It’s pretty decent, should accommodate all four of you.” A tour is moot, but you list off the accommodations as you pivot in the middle of the main room upstairs.
“Apologies again for the last minute change of plans, the girls are smart and I trust ‘em. But six weeks is a long time to be left to their own devices.”
“I don’t mind at all, really. Just want you to be comfortable, the pantry is stocked and I’ve left a credit card on the counter for takeout and other supplies you might need for your stay. I did have a cleaning crew come in because I wasn’t sure if any of you were allergic to cats, and I have two. They’re at Santi’s now, but the house was cleaned professionally too just in case.
“Really thoughtful of ya, sweetheart.” Tommy brushes a hand over your shoulder as he takes in the apartment. He had been right in front of you, Joel behind you to ensure you got up the stairs okay.
“The girls are more than welcome to work with me in the bakery if I’m on shift or even sit in the café with their schoolwork. And all of you are welcome to get coffee and pastries in the morning, though the cabinet is stocked with stuff too.”
“You’ve really taken everything into consideration, gotta say you’re turning out to be one of the best clients we’ve had hire us.” Joel turns from where he’s inspecting the street down below from the window above the kitchen sink.
“I wouldn’t say that quite yet, might turn out to be nitpicky about tile placement or somethin’.”
“That wouldn’t be anything we couldn’t accommodate.”
“Okay, well, cookout’s at five or six, just bring yourselves. Will and Benny are hosting, I’m sure they can’t wait to see you. I’ve got a doctor’s appointment I need to get to, please make yourselves at home.”
“I don’t want to overstep, but do you need any help, darlin’? I couldn’t help but notice there wasn’t a wheelchair in the truck.”
“I think I can manage okay but thank you. You’re very kind to offer.”
“That officer had no business doin’ what he did. Just wanna make sure you’re alright.” Tommy agrees, closing in for a departing hug that turns into him ushering you towards the stairs.
“I am, if I wasn’t it’d be a simple call, but uh…please don’t tell the guys.” You pitched your voice low as the girls disappeared into the master bedroom. “I don’t want them to worry, we’ve all just managed to get through everything.”
The brother’s nod their silent agreement.
The garage won’t open even when you press the clicker fastened to your visor. Once, twice, three times before you just pull up into the empty drive. Frankie’s truck is parking on the curb right outside the house and you grumble a little as you start to gather the few bags from your errands. You hadn’t anticipated Joel brining along his daughter with them. Something he had covered the cost for, claiming it was no big deal and that she was excited to go somewhere new. It was all organized with her school, for her to finish up the last month or so of the academic year online, Joel explained along with how he didn’t feel comfortable leaving her to the neighbors for that long. He had only given you a lopsided grin and a shake of his head when you asked after a girlfriend or anything of the sort out of curiosity.
But the whole ordeal over the parking spot, the bakery being a little hectic, and being blindsided by the lovely arrival of the entire Miller family, you were tired and sore. Ready for a nap before the dinner that Will and Benny were hosting at their home. You didn’t even register Frankie as you stepped out of your sandals and hung up your bag. Not even when you walked directly passed him laid out on the couch, half asleep.
Hours later, you’re venturing out into the living room to find the man fully awake and going over the vendors who had offered to cater or help with the wedding party. He’s got his phone open on the coffee table and a fresh mug that lets loose steam into the air. It prickles your senses in a bad way, temples throbbing at the scent.
“….Frankie? I want to be completely transparent with you, but I don’t want to…” Trailing off, you realize how ridiculous the situation is, but you don’t think you can handle the sight of the man strutting about your home as the repairs and renovations get completed without staring just a little. You plop down on the couch, legs sore from the long day. You should soak in a bath later, to help alleviate some of it but you had been using the cane all day. “I dunno, make you uncomfortable.”
“What is it, Mami Pastel?” He teases, trying to lighten the tension that was coming off of you in waves.
“Well, I think you’re one of the most handsome men I’ve ever met. I mean, I look at you even just for a second and melt because you have the warmest, most gooey brown eyes and you’re so competent it adds to your attractiveness. The way you walk is…hypnotizing and the way your butt looks in jeans is just…mhm. The patches in your scruff, now I know you don’t like that you can’t grow a beard like Santi, but they are so you. I love pressing kisses to them and hearing your breath huff. And your smile, Frankie, your smile is my favorite in the whole entire world.”
“Okay…?” The man in question looks confused by your rather passionate rambling until he recalls the way you had stuttered under your breath and practically bolted towards the room to lay down when you returned from dropping off the Miller family at the bakery to settle in after their flight. He had seen photos of both sets of Miller brothers from family events before and it clicks. “Querida…do you have the hots for Joel?”
“No! I barely know the man.” You defend far too quickly, and you know it’s giving you away just as much as your intention to come clean anyway. Frankie just quirks a brow up in a silent question, his full lips twitching as he tried not to laugh at how adorably flustered you’re getting. He can practically feel the heat of embarrassment coming from the other side of the couch. You aren’t able to meet his eyes, knowing it would just spark arousal paired with the image of both of them being such sturdy, broad men.
The thought of Frankie alone was enough to get you worked up, as had been the interactions with Joel.
The older man had been very attentive as you prattled on about the city as you drove them from the airport, about the bakery as you wound your way through the downtown area, and the apartment as you showed them where everything was and said you stocked it with essentials you thought they would need for the duration of their stay. But the two of them stood side by side, hands on hips and wrapped around blueprints for the house, the scent of them both mingling in your home? The sound of their voices blending in the perfect mix of deep southern twang and accented Spanish? Yeah, it was definitely doing something to you.
“Sweet girl, it’s okay if you think he’s attractive. He’s a handsome man.” Frankie shifts to pull you into his chest and you bury your face in his neck as he wraps his arms around your back. Embarrassed, you were so embarrassed that the thought of them together was getting you all worked up. The fabric of your dress far too loose to prove any relieve as you clenched your thighs together to ward it off. You pressed a kiss to the freckled skin of his neck at his comforting words, but it sent a spike of hot arousal through your middle as his scent enveloped you.
“Sweet girl, are you…?” Frankie reached a large hand down to sneak underneath the fabric, thick fingers brushing against the front of your underwear to feel the damp material. His voice had dipped to a lower octave, something heady in the words. “Oh, you really think he’s attractive, huh?”
“I think you’re attractive.” You argue weakly, though your words were completely true.
“I’m not upset with you, I promise.”
“It’s not fair to you.”
“You didn’t do anything, right?” As your meek nod, he cups your face in both his hands. “Then it’s okay, perfectly normal to be attracted to other people.”
“Frankie, I love you so much.”
“I love you too, sweet girl. More than words can express.” He presses his lips to you and you sigh against him. “Hey, I’ve got a surprise for you. Me ‘n Benny got you something.”
“What?”
“C’mon,” He kisses you again before helping you to stand, making sure the cane is secure in your hand before he gently guides you toward the garage entrance off the kitchen. When he opens the door, you gasp at the sight of the car you had spent countless hours researching even before your relocation to Florida.
“Frankie!”
“Benny said it’s our wedding gift.”
“Frankie!” He’s fully prepared when you turn and jump into his arms, excitement and giggles sounding into the air. “Is this what you were doing today?”
“Wanted to make sure it had all the modifications you talked about, it’s the outdoors edition and the stereo system has a satellite subscription set up for you to blast your music.”
“We’ve got to christen it.” You smirk as you lean back to look down at him, his hold tightens on you before he begins to step toward the hood.
“As you wish, mi amor.” His own cheeky grin and huff of laughter stirring heat in your body as your backside is set atop the cool metal.
Six weeks go by, the renovation something Joel and Tommy pour their entire selves into. The girls join you everyday you’re in the bakery, helping you and having fun with it, even if they weren’t the best as using the piping bags. In turn, you make sure to either cook or order lunch for them and sit down with them to knock out some of their schoolwork each day. It’s a good routine, returning to Santiago’s home in the early evenings after picking up Lex, having been added to the office’s records at her school as a guardian. The man hosting you typically has dinner made when you walk through the front door.
Frankie is normally the last one home, taking over the task of bathing Lex before bed each night. Often finding you and his best friend cuddled or sprawled out in the living room with something playing lowly on the television. The sight warms his heart. Even more so when he walks through the door to see Morgan or any other of your friend group sharing in jovial evenings that he knows you cherish just as much. Each week someone hosted a cookout, since there were so many of you now, to get everyone together and ensure everyone is okay, breaking up the monotony of adulthood.
On the anniversary of first meeting the one and only Fransisco Morales, you both make your way down to the city hall and file for a marriage certificate. Just the two of you, something personal and intimate even if it was such a simple way to go about it. You both smiled so brightly at each other, recognizing how far of a journey it had been to get there. But one you would both traverse again and again if it ended all the same. Once the house was complete, the official celebration would take place.
And today was that day.
Everything was perfect, everything was what you had wanted it to be and more. The work Will and Benny’s cousins wrapped up, and the house Frankie had bought all those years finally exhibiting the life he had aspired to create for him and his daughter. For you, now too. Santiago’s home had become the home base during the repairs, but today, right now Joel and Tommy Miller were walking you through the completed house.
They were both so handsome and you wondered idly how you ended up surrounded by such beautiful people, inside and out. You had been so nervous to meet with them in person when they arrived, but an easy going and friendly ‘Well, hey there darlin’. Nice to put a pretty name to that pretty voice.’ had eased your anxieties as well as a greeting embrace from Joel once the whole parking ordeal had been resolved.
Tommy had been a little flustered, being so far away from home and having been flying once again, the only time he had known to do so was for his tour abroad with the Army. Something Joel had admitted to you when you called the morning before their flight to confirm everything and make sure they had the tickets in their hands.
So real, so human. So good, everyone in your life, in the little bubble you created for yourself born of running away from your old city and the traumas that had occurred there. With nothing but a newly signed deed for a building you had only looked at online and a crate of two cats, you had built your life up to what it is now and you couldn’t be more grateful.
“We did a little more than you asked for, but we didn’t mind. Wanted to make sure you had everythin’ you needed for getting around easy.” Joel leads the way through the door, your copy of the keys in his hands. Tommy was bringing up the line you, Frankie, and Alexia made.
“Saw the opportunity to do some modifications in the kitchen while we were putting the laundry in there and with Frankie’s approval we went ahead. He asked that we keep it a secret, a wedding gift to you.”
“Frankie…” You turn to look at the man, seated in your wheelchair today, the custom one having come in just in time for you to have a particularly bad flare of immobility in your lower extremities. There was a ramp now, through the garage, you had insisted you preferred the porch to have the steps and not alter it. The couch out here replaced with a slightly larger one that was higher up from the ground so your hips didn’t hinge as much to get up and sit down in it.
“I know you said you like the kitchen as is, but I just asked them to install gliding racks for the lower cabinets and had them replace the island so one side is low enough for you to roll up to if you feel like baking and can’t get up on your legs that day. No big deal, sweet girl.”
“It was an easy thing, don’t worry, darlin’.” Joel holds out a hand for you to take, Frankie watching diligently in case you trembled or dipped underneath your own weight. Your cane trading from his hand to Joel’s other and the older man leads you into the kitchen, since nothing was altered in the living room.
All new tile had been put down in the kitchen, the black and white stella star tiles you had torn yourself away from during a trip to the hardware store with the brothers when they caught up with you. The jade green backsplash you had taken a sample of gleamed to compliment the natural wooden cabinets that replaced the white ones that had previously been there. The countertops were now a white granite, the island indeed having been altered on one side.
“This is a little more than the island…”
“Was nothin’.” Tommy smiled as he opened up a lower cabinet and showed you the easy glide of the shelving put in place. “A baker has to have a kitchen that suits her.”
You feel tears prick hot and sticky behind your eyes, prompting Joel to stand right in front of you and tilt his head down to capture them. His eyes are so brown set into his handsome face and you feel heat rise to your face at being so close to him, acutely aware of Frankie just inside the threshold to the room with Tommy.
“We wanted to, all of us, okay? You’ve been dealt a harsh hand, darlin’. Wanted to bring some good into your life and we were able to, yeah? Besides, we’re gonna use the hell outta the photos we took for the business back home.” He hoped to lighten the mood, everyone relaxing when a giggle sprung from your lips as you wiped underneath your eyes.
“Papa! The house is so pretty!” Lex jostles Frankie as she hugs him tight around his legs. “It’s perfect for Mama Pastel!”
The small party is still going well into the night, the lights strung up all around the patio illuminating the jovial serenity. You feel the prickle of someone watching you and you turn from where you’re sitting to chat with Morgan who is seated across Santiago’s lap. Discussing possible dates for an end of the year trip out the cabin. Frankie is stood by the now cool grill, a beer in one hand and the other supporting the weight of Lex as she slumps against his chest with her face tucked over his shoulder. She’s tall for her age but not too small to be held by her father in the growing hour.
She should’ve been asleep an hour or so ago, but she had begged and pleaded to stay up ‘with the grown ups’. Taking her duty of ring bearer way more seriously than any of you had anticipated. Beside the man who is now your husband, stand Joel and you feel your stomach swoop at the sight of them together. Joel reaching out a hand to rub between the sleepy girl’s shoulders, words too low for you to hear from you spot. Both men chuckle, their teeth glinting as they share the moment.
Taylor saunters up to them both and you feel heat envelope you. You knew how two of them moved, how they felt, how they sounded. And the need to find out how Joel did too was strong. Guilt flared up at the direction your thoughts had taken. You were married now to such a loving and understanding, amazing man. But your body seemed to be out of your control as you felt something thrum through you at the sight of them all together chatting idly.
The memory of Frankie taunting you as he pinned you to the counter in the kitchen all those months ago springs up to the front of your depraved mind.
“Would you have let me take you in that store? While all those silly, jealous women watched? All those watching, dirty men palming themselves to the sight of you taking my cock in the middle of that aisle, pressed up against the shelves?” The tip of him caught on your entrance, and he pushed in, shallowly thrusting. He wasn’t giving you all of him, just teasing you open a little, waiting on an answer.
“Fuck, Frankie, yes.”
Frankie takes the last swig out of his bottle, Joel taking the empty glass from him and they share one last word before parting ways. Frankie brushes a hand over your shoulder as he passes, murmuring he’s going to lay Lex down and then he’ll be back. The other two men remain where they are by the grill, no doubt talking about the lumber and construction businesses they both are skilled in.
Sighing, you excuse yourself with the imitation of taking a drag from a cigarette and carefully make your way down the few steps into the yard. The grass is soft as it hushes over your sandaled feet, until you’re partially hidden off to the side underneath a tree. With another sigh you place the single cigarette you grabbed between your teeth and flick the lighter on. A few puffs into it and you’re startled by the sudden shadow of someone moving toward you.
“Sorry, darlin’, didn’t mean to scare ya.” Joel’s deep timbre greet you as ducks underneath one of the lower hanging branches. Your body sings at his close proximity, fueled by the few drinks you had indulged in and the quick trigger of your arousal as of late. Heat spears through your middle and down to your core as he steps impossibly closer, hand reaching for the cigarette, his fingers nudging against your own as he takes it from you to take a drag for himself.
He smells like the grill, like the embers of charcoal and wood from the still burning fire in the pit on the deck, like the body wash he must’ve used earlier that day as he got ready for the celebration. He’s watching you like you’re watching him, eyes dragging over the displayed ink across your skin. The light color of your flowing dress highlighting the detailed blackwork set into your tanned skin. His eyes are impossibly brown even in the dim light, so much like Frankie’s. You feel connected to him in a way you can’t quite explain.
“Y’look real gorgeous, Pastel. Glad to play a part in today.” He’s of course referring to the arch he and Taylor had constructed for the small ceremony, both of them collaborating once your best friend had arrived in town a week ago with his own child. The niggling feeling of wanting to share in that part of their respective lives bubbled up and warmth bloomed in your chest, both of them and Frankie all such good fathers. You…wanted that. To be a mother. The thought always a far off one, but now…now it seemed all the more like a waiting game. Something only touched upon by both you and Frankie. You and Joel as he passed the time with you during the days you didn’t work and made sure the second set of Miller brother’s had lunch and cool drinks while they did.
Gratitude was barely a whisper as you watched him exhale another drag.
“Gonna miss seein’ ya when we go back home.”
“Maybe we can visit.” The words are out of your mouth before you realized they were something you wanted.
“I’d like that.” He murmured, mouth upturning on one end to reveal a dimple so much like Frankie’s. His fingers were gentle as he passed the cigarette back to you. Your breath hitched as he dipped his head low to press a kiss to your cheek. “Gonna shove off, the girls need to get to bed. We’re still on for the zoo tomorrow?”
“Y-yes, of course.”
“Goodnight, darlin’.” Another kiss and then he’s gone, leaving you to titter to yourself for a few moments until you’re sure his little group is gone. When you step back onto the deck, Will and Isabella are gone as well as Santiago and Morgan. Benny and Taylor remain and you settle between them in an open chair.
“Hey Benny?”
“Yeah, mantequilla?”
“Thank you.” You reach out a hand to him and he takes it without question, his wide palm warm as it slides against your own. Taylor watches on with a smile on his face, fondness for you and the man who had extended his friendship to you in the time you had needed it most.
“Told you that first day you singed up for the gym, anythin’ you need.”
It’s depraved the way you move against him, desperate for him to touch you. He’s laughing as you trail sucking kisses down his neck, standing on the tips of your toes to reach. Your hands are on his waist, messing with the belt and buttons of his trousers before he can even take a breath to catch up to the way you’re moving against him.
“Frankie, I need you.”
“Okay, but let’s slow it down a little, we have all the time in the world.” His eyes had tracked you throughout the day, well into the night. On how you had leaned heavily on your cane for support as you stood beside him and exchanged rings underneath a beautiful arch covered in florals of soft colors. Of how you had been sat in each seat for long periods of time, how everyone seemed to read the same thing he had, that your body was aching.
“Nu-uh, not too sore for this.” Gently pressing your hands to his chest, you lean into him and he falls to the bed with a loud gasp.
“I’m not complaining, sweet girl. But what has gotten into you lately, you’re so eager.”
“I love you.” Pausing, you feel another wave of guilt wash over you. And then trepidation seeps in, taints the arousal that had been thrumming through your veins. You lean up and back away, standing a few feet from the foot of the bed where his legs hang over the mattress. Emotions being to swarm you, conflicting in their vie to be felt. Suddenly, you’re hiccupping, hands coming up to wipe at the tears threatening to fall. “Do…you not want me?”
“What? No! I-I…I’m just a little confused.” Frankie is quick to dispel your worries, to give you an honest answer. He’s sitting up, reaching for you. But you back away a few more steps and he let his hands fall.
“I know I’ve been a lot lately, between the renovations and the whole thing at the city hall, and- and- and the whole Joel thing. I don’t…I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately!” The tears are flowing now, your hands covering your face from view. “I feel so selfish…”
Your name falling from his lips grounds you, his body wrapping around your own even more so.
“You are not selfish, you are merely overwhelmed. It’s…it’s been a lot since the shooting. For you, especially.”
“Frankie, I…I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Joel, he…he oy I feel so silly and…weird.”
“Nothing’s wrong with you, oh sweet girl. Here,” He holds out his hands for you and you willingly drift closer to stand between his legs. Expression open and accepting, you can feel him searching for something he must see because his eyes soften. He skims his hands up your sides, soothing the ache he knows is there in your hips and the sudden burst of emotions he was beginning to wonder what the cause of was.
It’s slow, it’s scorching, it’s perfect the way he worships you. Your husband. Your future. Your life.
It’s stifling, in the room. Sweat glistening across your entire body as you submitted to the roll of hips pressed against you, the hands that held tight to you, the sucking lips that latched onto whatever it could reach. Both pairs. One below and one behind. Scruff burns sweetly over your chest and the back of your neck, pulling mewling moans from you. The drag of hard, silken skin in and out of you has you panting for breath when you manage to pull in a lungful, only to be thrust from you as two bodies move in tandem with your own.
The feeling of course hairs against your clit have you arching, chest pressing to the man beneath you and back against the man behind you as he drapes over you. You try to warm them, the feeling of being completely full too much for you to handle, pleasure courses harshly through you, almost painful in its intensity but all you manage is a choked off sound before you’re tensing and falling over the edge of it.
Eyes catching brown eyes watching in wonder as you fall apart in a glimpse before black sparks over your vision.
Gasping, you bolt up from where you lay in bed. Chest heaving and eyes blurry you look around the room to find yourself alone beneath the covers. You’re as bare as you were when Frankie undressed you the night before, only now your skin is glistening with sweat from the overwhelming heat of your rather salacious dreamworld. Catching your breath after a moment, you feel embarrassment at what your mind concocted flare. You…you were never really one for that adventurous of a sex life. But your body was changing as you got older, your mind running away and the startling realization that you may be into something as risqué as that….kind of settles.
Nausea roils in your stomach, urging you to rush from the tangled covers that no doubt aided the feeling of being pressed between two bodies in your dream. You barely make it to the bathroom in time, hips twinging with the sudden movement and the way your knees knock into the patterned tile of the floor.
Groaning, you submit to the idea that maybe work would be too much on your body today.
The next step of your life, the one you had curated with Frankie makes itself known only a few hours later.
It all makes so much sense, literally everything. The week following the visit to city hall and the party, you’re hurling the two sips of coffee and granola bar you had for breakfast into the kitchen sink. It had prompted you to run to the store, the new car so smooth and easier to manage than the truck with how sore your legs had been. Frankie was gone to work early, a sunrise flight tour scheduled and he had been the only one willing to take it. But maybe that was for the best because you felt like it would all be too much for him so witness the way you almost dazedly went about the errand and returned home.
Conversations had been surface level, more of a curious ‘what if’ than an actual conversation. A more in depth one with the doctors and the concerns they had should you end up in the situation you were in, if the piece of plastic on the vanity counter could be trusted. It had been advised that you really weight the pros and cons of wanting it, of how much you were willing to alter in order to make it a reality. There were no concerns for your health aside from the way it would affect your hips, the extra weight that would rise as it went on, the claim that the only way for a safe delivery would be to schedule a procedure.
From the cravings to the increased libido, to the nausea and the zipping emotions.
The way you had been easily riled up at the simplest things, the way everyone around you seemed to exude brimming sexual energy, the way your body had responded to not only Frankie, but Taylor and Joel. The bursts of energy combating the spells of next to no energy. The way you had been seeking out specific foods and feeling intense dislike for others. The annoyance that had flared up far too quick along with hurt and sadness at the most mundane instances. The tears you had shed while bidding both Taylor and his son goodbye after the celebration a few weeks ago and the Miller family before that.
Ears pricking at the sound of steps, you look up and see Frankie reflected in the mirror. He’s stood in the doorway with his brows furrowed in concern. You were supposed to have gone to the bakery today, but your rather hectic start had dissolved the idea completely.
Turning from the vanity, you pick up the thing that had been holding your attention. You brandish the small screen so he can see it from his spot, hand unconsciously going to your middle. He’s watching you closely, concerned as he looks over your face that breaks out into a watery smile. To the item in your grip. Frankie’s breath gasps as he reads what the screen has displayed and his own lips stretch out into a wide grin, adorable dimple on display.
“Frankie, I’m pregnant.”
previous chapter || end
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Summertime Sadness
Pairing: Mr. Ben X fem!Reader | W/C: ~4.3K | Rating: 18+ Minors DNI
Summary: With your Senior year coming to a close, Mr. Ben tells you how he feels about your class behavior. Some lessons are hard to learn.
Warnings: Dub-con (could even say non-con) dark themes. This fic absolutely contains an exploitation of authority. You alone are responsible for what you consume on this platform; just keep scrolling if that’s not your cup of tea. Student/teacher relationship. Dom/Sub undertones. Age gap. Reader just turned 18. Sexual tension. Blatant flirting. Teasing. Bratty behavior. Use of sir. Use of daddy. Semi-public sex. Desk sex. Loss of virginity. Orgasm denial (!! the fic theme per the challenge). Light spanking. Crying. Some Spanish. Unprotected rough P in V. Oral (both). Creampie. Dirty talk. A smidge of degradation. Twisted morals. No aftercare.
A/N: I have to say, writing orgasm denial for Mr. Ben was definitely not something I saw on being on my 2024 dance card, but I’m here for it. This fic was written as part of @iamasaddie Kinky May follower celebration. Aly, congrats babe. Thanks for the fun prompt.
Fic title and final line inspired that song. You know the one. Minimally edited.
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Fresh off the heels of your 18th birthday, you stride into the final day of your senior year.
Only two classes left. It feels strange, a bittersweet blend of nostalgia and excitement. In some ways, you've acknowledged your growth, recognizing the woman you’re becoming. In others, many things have remained the same—the bright pink on your bedroom walls, the frill of your bedspread, the chipped glitter on your nails. But in many ways, everything has changed.
You certainly no longer look like a young girl; boys are suddenly turning heads left and right. Your shirts fill out more, and your jeans are tighter. You stand taller now, and your reflection in the mirror reveals confidence you didn’t have a year ago.
Your dad now gets very nervous when the weekend arrives and you tell him you have movie plans. He hides his worry behind a weak smile and a stern warning. You roll your eyes but appreciate his concern. You wonder how he might react if you told him it’s not the boys he has to worry about in the first place.
You have fun with them, of course. It doesn’t take much—a flick of a pen, a pop of gum, and a good push-up bra—but none of them have ever really captured your attention. No, after the lights go out, with your hand between your thighs, you let yourself dream of rough hands, the tickle of a beard on your soft skin, and a much firmer, much older presence.
So what if he’s your teacher?
Cyndi Lauper said it best, girls just want to have fun.
++++
“Excelente, Matt. Muy bien hecho (excellent, Matt. Very well done),” you hear Mrs. Martinez say shortly before she turns to you, red lipstick smudged on her teeth.
¿Puedes decir, "Next month, I intend to participate in a cultural exchange program with students from Spain."
Despite having spent the past year in this class, you haven’t really gotten much better. You might be if Spanish just didn’t happen to fall right before English, before his class.
You pause, wide-eyed and suddenly very nervous.
“Uhh –,” you clear your throat. “El próximo mes, tengo la intención de participar en un programa…” you pause again, looking at her for any sign of reassurance that you’re not totally messing the sentence up, “de intercambio cultural con estudiantes de España…” you elongate the a in España, almost a question to it.
“Perfecto,” she praises “Excelente pronunciación y uso del subjuntivo (excellent pronunciation and use of the subjunctive).”
You sink back into your seat, satisfied and self-assured. The clock on the wall suddenly commands your attention, each tick a tiny torment, counting down the minutes until the next period. Your last class. Not just the end of the day this time, but what feels like the end of an era.
Your stomach feels like it’s in knots, your palms suddenly a little clammy. You're unsure if it’s the lingering anxiety from the pop quiz or the bittersweet realization that you won’t see Mr. Ben after this.
You knew this moment would come; you had prepared for it. If this was the last time you’d see him, you figured, why not put on a little show? That’s why you slipped into a short skirt and a dainty little tank top this morning. You swear you saw your mother clutch her pearls when you walked out the door, but she didn’t bother to say anything, and you knew she wouldn’t, not since your last argument. “Mom, I’m 18 now, I can dress however I want,” you had said.
This wasn’t entirely new. You’ve slowly gotten more and more suggestive in your outfits over the progression of the year, particularly in Mr. Ben’s class. You didn’t mind hiding behind a hoodie or a sweater in your other periods, but you always made sure to tuck that into your backpack before English.
It hadn’t been your plan at first, but when you showed up in his class earlier this year, your white tank top soaked from the rain, you noticed how he couldn’t take his eyes off you, the way his eyes fluttered down to your hard nipples hidden behind the transparent fabric.
But there was something different about the way he looked at you, unlike how the boys in your grade did. His gaze held something deeper, something darker, perhaps. He looked at you as if you were the devil sent to destroy him and an angel destined to save him all at once.
And you love it.
Week by week, you began dressing a little more suggestively. You couldn't help but smile when you approached him after class one day, wearing a pretty sundress that hinted at the creases between your thighs and ass if you bent over just right, and he went beet red.
You had spent the entire year chipping away at the exterior he had built to maintain any sense of professionalism.
And today was the day you were going to watch it all crumble.
++++
To your dismay, Mr. Ben hardly spends any time looking at you during class. In fact, he seems to be trying to look anywhere but. You do your best to catch his attention. You even go as far as to pull a lollipop out of your bag, provocatively sucking on it in the hopes of catching his eye.
Despite your best efforts, he pays you no mind.
Your heart sinks when the final bell rings, and Mr. Ben wishes the rest of the class a good summer and says he'll see everyone at graduation.
You can't hide the disappointment on your face as you start to pack up your bag, the sweetness of the lollipop on your tongue a stark contrast to your now gray mood. Just as the rest of the students shuffle out of the room, you hear him call your name, asking you to stay behind. You pause, curiosity piqued despite your lingering disappointment, and turn to face him, wondering what he could possibly want you to stay behind for.
The classroom empties, and he closes the door, leaving an electric silence hanging in the air at the sound of the lock. You turn to face him, heart pounding in your chest. His eyes finally meet yours, and you see a flicker of the same tension that has been simmering all year.
"You wanted me to stay?" you ask, the lollipop pinched between your fingers, still toying with it on your lips.
"Yes, I did," he says, rounding the desk and coming to sit on the front of it, arms crossed over his chest. His broad frame fills your vision, the dress shirt clinging to his skin just right, his salt-and-pepper curls framing the crease between his brows.
You drop your bag on a nearby desk and take a step closer to him.
"I've been really disappointed with your behavior this past year," he rasps, his voice firm.
And oh. It catches you off guard.
"And why is that, Mr. Ben?" you ask, playing the innocent card, deciding to go along with whatever this is, your attention mostly on the sweet stickiness of the lollipop on your tongue.
He scoffs, but his eyes are glued to your mouth. “Please, sweetheart. Don't think I haven't noticed the way you've been looking at me, dressing like a little slut just to catch my eye."
“Oh, so you did notice then…” you say, your voice teasing as you swirl the lollipop in your mouth.
"You like tarting yourself out for a grown man, sweetheart? Someone old enough to be your daddy?" He rises to stand and towers over you. His eyes glaze over your face, that same darkness even stronger now. His pupils are dark enough to edge out the brown, while your eyes are bright enough to cut glass as you look up at him.
"And what if I say yes?" you ask, removing the lollipop and holding it between your bodies. Your eyes drop to his lips, watching as his jaw tenses and the vein in his forehead becomes more pronounced. He seems to wrestle with his thoughts for a moment before his gaze locks onto yours, intense and scrutinizing.
"Come on, Mr. Ben, don't you want a taste?" you say suggestively, your voice dripping with playful teasing. Slowly, you rub the glassy texture of the candy over his lips. His eyes widen slightly, and his lips instinctively part. With a hint of a smile, he accepts the candy on his tongue, savoring the sweet flavor as it dissolves.
"Yeah, sweetheart, I do," he groans, his voice rough with desire. He breaks the lollipop with his teeth, the hardness crunching audibly. The sweet shards scatter across his tongue, and he grins at you like he wants to do the same to you.
His hands find your hips, and he pulls you into him, his cheek grazing the soft skin of your jaw as he dips to your neck. His lips latch onto your skin, sucking gently, leaving a mark, eliciting a soft moan from you.
He pulls back, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, “Naughty fuckin’ girl, I oughta teach you a different kind of lesson, one you might actually listen to. Poor little baby’s been too cock drunk in my class, probably didn’t learn a damn thing in this class all year, did you?”
"No, sir," you giggle, your laughter light and playful. He responds with a low groan, the sound filled with a mix of frustration and arousal.
“Guess we’re gonna have to do something about that,” his hands drop to your ass, and he plants a firm smack on your backside with his right hand.
“I’m gonna tell you what to do, but I’m not gonna tell you twice,” he says as his large palm comes up to hold the column of your throat, his thumb just under your jaw, tilting you up to face him.
“When I tell you to get on your knees, you’re gonna do it,” he says, voice low. “If I tell you to look at me, you’re gonna do it,” he continues, “And if I tell you not to touch yourself, you’re not going to,” he says, dipping his face lower to you. You wonder if he can feel your pulse quickening under his hand, caught in a lusty daze fueled by hot breath and the sight of his blown pupils.
“Tell me you understand,” he commands, not really questioning.
“Yes,” you rasp.
“Yes, what?”
You look up at him, confusion painted on your face, but then you realize what he’s asking for, what he’s giving you. What he wants you to call him.
“Yes, daddy. I understand,” you say, tightening your grip on his forearm, feeling his muscles' strength still grasp you, pulling you closer to him.
He looks down at you, apparently satisfied.
You think for a moment he might kiss you, his lips barely an inch from yours, but he doesn’t.
“Oh so you are capable of listening,” he praises, releasing his grip on you.
“Get on your fucking knees, baby. You wanna dress like a whore, I’ll treat you like one.”
His words wrack through you, the filth and the promise behind them sending shivers down your spine. You fall to your knees, feeling the hard, scuffed-up linoleum beneath you. Positioning yourself beneath him, you fold your hands in your lap, waiting for his next command. He reaches down, his pointer finger lifting your chin to face him. He runs his thumb slowly over your lips, even his touch is demanding.
“Been thinkin’ about what this pretty little mouth could do all year long.”
As he releases you, you take that as permission and reach out to undo the buckle of his belt. You momentarily fumble with the cool metal until it’s completely unbuckled before you begin working with the zipper on his slacks. You tug both his pants and his underwear down just below his hips, and his thick length springs to attention.
Your breath hitches in your throat at the size of him. He’s big. His cock is already at full attention, red and weeping. Your mouth waters at the sight of it. You look up at him, silently asking for permission to touch him, and he nods.
“Go on,” he says, and your hand comes to wrap around the base of him. The thought of all of him being yours stirs something low in your belly. If something is so wrong, why does it feel so right?
You stroke along his length, feeling the silky warmth of his skin, the heat, and the thick veins that add texture to each pass of your palm. You pause at the top of him and let out a little squeeze until a small bead of precum forms at the tip. You lap it up, and he lets out a groan, and his hands fall to grab the back of your neck.
“Keep that mouth wide open for me,” he orders.
You part your lips and tease your tongue around and then start sucking on the tip, slowly taking more in until you’re sucking on the full head of his cock, and your tongue is whirling around it. His grip on the back of your neck tightens, and he gently cants his hips forward, urging you to take more of him.
You’re barely halfway down, and the back of his cock is already on your throat. You start bobbing your head up and down, and he mutters a little curse under his breath and bites down on his lip.
“Look so pretty with your teacher’s cock down your sweet little throat,” you moan around him, the sound reverberating against him, “This what you wanted, hmm? Needed your throat fucked like a slut?”
Your thighs clench together, a syrupy mess of your own slick smears on your skin beneath your skirt, barely contained in the thin strip of your thong, his filthy words adding to the roaring ache in your cunt. This doesn’t go unnoticed by him as you notice him stiffen just a little more.
He holds your head and forces you to pick up the pace, pushing yourself to take more of him. He thrusts firmly, meeting your movements along his shaft.
“Tha’s it, just like that…” his groans are lecherous, coupled with the profane sounds of you gagging on his cock. It’s rough. He’s bigger, thicker than any high school boy you’ve ever had in your mouth. You can hardly breathe, but he doesn’t seem to care.
He tightens his grip on your hair and fucks your mouth the way he wants to, the way you always hoped he would. When you try to pull off of him to catch your breath, he tsks at you, and holds you on his cock for a second longer before letting go and letting you off him to catch your breath.
You cough and try to fill your lungs with fresh air. He takes a moment to watch you wipe the saliva and precum from your mouth with the back of your hand. It’s a vulgar sight, his freshly legal student on her knees in his classroom, mascara smudged from the tears you’ve begun to cry from his cock. He commits it to memory.
“That was your first lesson,” he rasps, “Now it’s time for your second.”
You rise, your knees burning from the harshness of the floor. He takes a step forward, guiding you back until your backside presses against the front of the desk. His knuckles trail over the front of your body, pausing on the swell of your breasts before dipping lower to the edge of your skirt. With a deft flick of his wrist, the pads of his fingers graze over the front of your sex, feeling the wetness that has soaked through the fabric.
“I’d ask if this is all for me, but I already know it is. Sloppy little cunt has been dripping for me all year, hasn’t it?” he coos, slipping his fingers beneath the fabric, grazing against your clit. You gasp in response. He uses his fingers to draw a few tight circles on your clit, eliciting a moan from you as he does.
“Please, daddy. Need it so bad.”
“Misbehavin all year, and you really think you deserve to come?”
He uses his middle finger and prods at the entrance of your wet hole. You pout.
“Daddy, please, I’ll be a good girl from now on, I promise.”
“I don’t think you will, sweetheart. Can’t be giving ya whatever you want. Everything comes with a set of consequences,” he kisses your neck and continues to tease your clit.
“Including fucking your teacher,” he rasps in your ear, punctuating it with a bite on the flesh there. He shoves his middle finger up into your cunt. You yelp, it’s so much, almost too much.
He moans in response.
“Oh, and you’re tight, too. Thought you might be. You ever been fucked here?”
“No…” you sound shy saying it.
“Never?” he asks, eyebrows raised.
“No, only ever fingers,” you whine as he slips another finger in. There’s a stretch and a burn from the intrusion.
“Fuck,” he groans as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you. You’re so wet that the burn is beginning to lessen as he gently moves his fingers inside of you.
“Gonna be a teacher’s pet, and let me help you out with that? Gotta earn it to get back on my good side, and you can start by givin’ up that sweet little v-card of yours to me.”
You look up at him, a little unsure, a little nervous. You glance down at his cock, he’s so big, you’re not sure you can take all of him, but you know you want to try.
“Yes – yes, daddy.”
“Lay down on the desk,” he commands, and you listen.
Your upper back rests on the oak desk, draped over the final grades for the year. There's just enough room for your hips to slightly dangle off the edge, with his hips positioned between your legs.
He pauses to admire the way you look up at him, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your perky tits still in your bra, a little sheen of sweat on your chest. He notes the way you still look flustered from taking him in his mouth, still a little nervous. He smiles, knowing he’s going to fuck every ounce of that right out of you.
He wants to claim ownership of every inch of your body, and he doesn’t want to wait any longer.
He drops to his own knees this time, hooking his thumbs into your underwear to pull them down with him. His face immediately finds your cunt, and he wastes no time before he lays a trail of soft kisses over your wet and waiting folds. He starts slow, a kiss here, a lap there, and eventually begins to pick up his pace.
He sinks a thick middle finger into you again, and this time you're ready for it. Your hips cant up at the welcomed intrusion, and your back arches, unable to stay on the desk. You feel his hot breath on your pussy and let out a small mmm at the way he presses his forearm across your lower half to lower you back down to the desk, to keep you still.
His mouth returns to your clit to work you, and he adds another finger, twisting and working them both into you with precision. You’re so fucking close – your slow crawl to the cliff of your orgasm turns into a full-on sprint. As if he couldn’t already tell from the way you’re moving, you verbally confirm your closeness for him.
“Please,” you moan. “Please – ugh, need to come, please let me come,” you beg.
“You come when I say you can,” he says, voice slightly muffed against your wet skin.
He presses his lips against your clit, but doesn’t give you enough tongue to get you where you need to go. You’re already so swollen, sensitive – you know all you’ll need is a little suck, and you’ll be gone.
You don’t know how much longer you can stave off your pleasure, but you want to be good for him, to listen, to obey.
He knows you want to come, that’s obvious, and god does he want to know what you look like when you do, to feel it, to be the reason; but still, he continues to tease and let it build. Your face twists, your jaw goes slack, and your eyes close and it all but screams I’m close, make me come, make me come.
It’s all too much, way too much. Tears begin to fall from your eyes.
“Consequences, sweetheart,” he rasps, “you gotta learn.”
He sucks your clit into his mouth and he grazes it with the top of his tongue and closes around you. You flutter your eyes closed. You warn him that you’re close, “Daddy, fuck, please let me come. I’ve learned my lesson, I swear,” you rasp out your pleas with a symphony of moans.
Satisfied with your pleading, he decides to take mercy on you. He looks up at you through his thick lashes, drinking in the way he has you melting, the way he has you crying, begging for him.
“Alright, sweetheart. I believe you. Go ahead and come, want you to soak my face,” he says, voice hoarse but still smooth like velvet.
You obey and feel the taste of your sweet release rush through you like a warm summer breeze on a hot day. Your vision goes white, and your whole body tenses with pleasure as he works you through it.
“You gonna tell your daddy thank you for letting you come?” His dilated pupils tell you he’s high on it; on you. His beard shines with your slick under the harsh fluorescents.
And shit, it’s filthy. He looks indecent in the most delectable of ways.
“Go on, wanna hear you say it,” he says, grabbing his thick cock in hand and lining the head of it up against your wet and waiting hole, pausing there before pressing in, waiting to hear your gratitude for what he gave to you. You let out a little whine.
“Thank you, daddy,” you tell him, and he nods, once more satisfied. Both of his hands come to your hips, surely leaving little bruises under his strong grip. Your slick makes it easy for him to bury himself in you to the hilt, even with the size of him.
“You sure you’re a virgin? Sure are taking this cock like it’s your fucking job, like it was made for me, aren’t you?”
He pauses for a moment to give you a second to adjust; you feel so full, you swear you feel him in your lungs. He begins a relentless pace, thrusting his cock deep inside of you, the obscene sounds of the clapping noises fill the classroom.
“Daddy, daddy, daddy, thank you, oh fuck,” you cry.
“That’s right. Say thank you for giving you this cock, for fucking you smart,” he commands.
Thank you – thrust – tha - thrust – thank you, fuck, thrust.
“Please tell me you’re on the pill or somethin’, wanna fill up this tight cunt, give her a taste of what she’s been asking for all year,” he groans as he continues thrusting into you.
“I am, I’m on the pill, please, daddy, give it to me.”
“Fuck, shit. Gonna fill this tight pussy up.” He fills you deeply, pausing buried deep inside of you, and you feel him explode inside of you. Your breath comes in stilted as the world begins to fade back in.
When he takes a step back, his tip smears against your inner thigh, leaving a trail of precum on your flesh. You bring your hand to cup your pussy, collecting the cum in your palm. You catch most of it, but some of it smears and pools onto the papers below.
He pulls up his pants and walks across the classroom to a box of tissues on the back wall. He hands them to you, and you use them to clean yourself up. You both adjust your clothing in silence. Once you're both fully dressed, you stand there quietly, the weight of the moment settling heavily between you.
"You did good. I'll make sure you get an A for your final grade," he says, his voice hollow and detached. He avoids your gaze, the weight of his actions now sinking in, the line he's crossed glaringly obvious. You open your mouth to say something, but he's already turned away, striding towards the door. Without a word, he opens it and holds it for you, the silence between you deafening.
"Have a good summer," he tells you, his tone almost too casual. "I'll see you at graduation."
You try not to read into what he might mean by that.
You walk away from him, feeling a little used, confused, changed.
Somehow, everything and nothing has changed at the same time. As you walk away, a whirlwind of emotions churns inside you.
What's summertime without a little sadness?
END
Tagging some moots who might enjoy: @toxicanonymity @syd-djarin @endlessthxxghts @auteurdelabre @yxtkiwiyxt @joelmillerisapunk @xdaddysprincessxx @javipispunk @survivingandenduring
#mr ben snl#pedro pascal fanfiction#mr ben smut#teacher student#little lady kinky may#teacher k!nk#teacher x student#daddy k!nk
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Might do these silly wallpapers for funsies
#pedro pascal lockscreen#pedro pascal wallpaper#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal fanfiction
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