#chubby pedro pascal
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the BEEF | #1: Joel Miller
Summary: no-outbreak AU, Joel has a headache and that headache wants his attention. [based on a prompt THOT up in collaboration with @strang3lov3]
Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader | Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) | Word Count: 3,833
Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, angry fools who want to play hide the sausage, angry joel, shovel violence against a truck, monster cock, age gap (joel is in his 50's, reader is younger), p in the v (unwrapped), rough dresser sex,
Author's Notes: welcome to the BEEF. Each P-boy has a thorn in their side that has to be dealt with. Thank you to @covetyou for inspiring the idea, and thank you @neverwheremoonchild, @strang3lov3, @rebel-held & @bitchesuntitled for their brains and eyes.
and thank you to every friendo in the Bistro - it's all for you, babies.
Joel Miller was your street’s cranky asshole. No one dared throw a party or hold a garage sale without letting him know first. No one dared let their grass get over a certain length and the whole neighbourhood breathed a sigh of relief when he would go out of a town and not see the kids scribble with chalk on the sidewalks in the summer. He never called the cops; no, instead he showed up and berated whoever was hosting an event or engaging in an activity he found offensive. And he was intimidating. He wasn’t the tallest, but he was built like a brick shithouse. You’d lived on the block for almost nine years, and in that time, Joel had gone from being a broad, sturdy single father to a single, empty nester who lived off HungryMan frozen meals. He was a big man with linebacker shoulders and a meaty chest stacked on top of a boulderous belly. His plaid button up shirts always looked like they were holding on for dear life to avoid his temper.
And you were utterly in love with him.
Before the most recent snowfall, you’d been in your room on your bed with the window open a crack to let in some fresh air. Right below your window was Joel’s front porch, and as soon as you heard his door fly open, you grabbed your vibrator and listened.
“Get off my lawn!”, you heard him bellow at who ever had dared to approach his house.
You smiled to yourself and turned on your purple silicon friend and shoved it in your underwear.
As Joel berated the hapless victim of his temper, you nudged yourself closer to the edge. As you did, you cared less about the volume of your cries and let your noises out at top volume. By the time you came, Joel was standing on his porch with his mouth agape, staring at your bedroom window and the offending party walked away with a look of disgust.
*****
Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.
You watched as your snow shovel slipped out of your hands and hit your Joel’s truck. The one with the vanity plate ‘SM 9000’ that you had no clue what it meant. You could only sit back and watch as it fell and gouged in the paint job on Joel’s 1989 Dodge Ram pickup, your panties grew damp as you heard his front door open and slam against his house.
You turned around, raising your hands, trying to look like you were de-escalating the situation. “Joel, I-“
“The fuck’re you think you’re doin’?!”, he bellowed, stomping towards you.
As he yelled and flew into a tantrum over your shovel’s sins, you couldn’t help the stupid, lovesick half grin blooming on your face.
“… and you ain’t got no respect for no one’s property and…”, he stopped, took a breath, and looked you over, face twisting in a confused rage as he tried to figure out why you were looking at him as if he were a can of tuna and you were a cat watching him being pulled open ever so gently.
“The fuck is wrong with you?!”, he yelled, stepping forward, trying to scare you to no avail. He huffed and stomped his foot, trying to snap you out of whatever trance you were in.
You sighed and tilted your head, loving the attention he was finally bestowing on you, not caring that your reaction was essentially dumping gasoline on a house fire.
“Fuckin’ disrespectful shit…”, he snarled as he grabbed your arm and dragged you towards his house.
“Joel? What’re you doing? Where we going?”, you asked with a big dumb grin on your face then wincing at the harsh grip he had on your elbow. Your boots slipped and skidded on the icy walkway and you tripped heading up the stairs.
“Fuckin’ clumsy dumbass…”, he grumbled, shoving you through his front door and slamming it behind you both.
You looked around his entry way, noting the ugly wallpaper and the stale cigarette smell lingering. You crinkled your nose, and he turned around, his frown deepening into a scowl.
“Boots off!”, he barked, harshly motioning to your feet.
You didn’t miss a beat and toed them off quickly, kicking them into the wall. His jaw clenched as he watched the dirty snow clumps slide slowly down, leaving wet patches on his yellow-turned-brown floral wallpaper.
His eyes snapped up to yours, expecting an apologetic look. Instead, he was met with…
“Why the fuck you lookin’ at me like a love sick puppy?”
Joel was enraged. You didn’t run away or beg for forgiveness. No. You stood in his entry way, kicking your boots and making a mess, looking like he was David Cassidy or Patrick Swayze. You smiled back softly and that was the last straw for him.
“WHAT IN THE FRESH HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”
You could have cum right there. Joel Miller was yelling right in your face. You’d gotten off by listening to him lose his shit at anyone trying to fundraiser or collect donations who had dared knock on his door but having a front row seat to a live performance was better than you could have ever imagined.
Joel watched your lips part and your brows twitch as they furrowed and your head tilt back slightly. He heard your breath hitch between his furious growling breaths, and his eyes slid down your parka-clad frame and he swore he saw your thighs clench.
His eyes went wide as he realized the effect he was having on you.
“You fuckin’ dirty little shit…”
The whimper he received in response made his cock twitch in his WalMart Levi’s. He sucked in a harsh breath and swallowed hard. He hadn’t had a woman look at him like that since he went to the strip club with his brother for his bachelor party, and he knew she was looking for a hefty tip. But you – the only thing he could think of is that you were trying to find a way to get out of paying for the damage your shovel caused. There was no waythat you were actually interested in him in that way. No. No woman had wanted to fuck him since before his daughter, Sarah, had been in junior high. He was a fat old asshole and you… you weren’t.
“Joel…”
Your soft voice pulled him back and the frown he carried all but left his face, being replaced with eyebrows to his hairline and his mouth open in confusion and shock.
“Joel, I… I’m sorry about your truck.”
You grabbed the zipper to your parka and pulled down, opening it to reveal your great aunt’s knitted sweater with a loon on it. Joel’s widened eyes swept over you and his brows furrowed.
“The hell you up to?”, he croaked, trying to sound intimidating.
“It’s warm in here”, you respond, tossing your parka on to, but missing completely, the stair banister.
His mind was racing. You actually seemed to be coming on to him as you stepped closer in your mismatched socks. You looked up at him through your lashes while your hands slowly slid up your legging-clad thighs and up to the hem of your sweater. He watched as you pulled it over your head slowly, getting it stuck for a moment, revealing a worn out white t-shirt with a faded image of a marshmallow peep and the slogan ‘Holla At My Peeps!’. He took another step back and you tossed your sweater at him, and he stumbled back, falling onto his recliner.
“Jesus, woman!”, he hollered, ripping your sweater off his head just in time to see you standing above him.
“You know how hot you are?”, you asked, leaning forward over him.
He froze. He must be dead. Or asleep. Or maybe he slipped when he stormed out the door to yell at you and hit his head. Or maybe he was drunk. Maybe he took a NyQuil tablet instead of the Omega 3-6-9 fish oil pills.
“The hell is wrong with you?”, he sputtered out, looking at you wide-eyed.
You didn’t answer. You only leaned forward, nudging your nose against his and letting out a breathy giggle. He tried to speak again, but his words got lost in the high pitch grunt he let out when your knee came up and nestled in between his thighs, pushing against the considerable bulge that had developed.
His hand involuntarily gripped your wrist that was supported on his arm rest, and he sucked in a deep breath.
“I know exactly what you need, Joel Miller.”, you cooed, tongue jutting out and licking your teeth, trying to sound seductive. “You need a good fuck.”
His mouth hung open in shock. You grinned wildly and kissed the tip of his nose before nipping at his bottom lip and tugging it between your teeth.
Joel let out a groan and closed his eyes, the hand on your wrist moving to your t-shirt’s hem and slipped underneath it. You nudged your knee against his crotch again and kissed him, tasting no-name waffles and burnt coffee.
The kiss seemed to break something in Joel. This wasn’t a dream, or an antihistamine induced hallucination or a concussion - this was real. You, his hot, young, stupid neighbour was crawling onto his lap and shoving your tongue down his throat.
He grunted lowly and pushed you back, looking up at you with dark eyes. You tried moving forward again, but his hand held you back.
A whine emanated from your throat, and he shook his head. “I’m not fucking you-“
You scoffed and he shushed you.
“Oh, hush and lemme finish, you loony shit!”, he huffed. “I was sayin’ that I'm not gonna fuck you in this chair; it barely holds my weight and if you’re gonna be bouncin’ on me, this fuckin’ thing’ll screw the pooch.”
You shrugged your shoulders, irritated. “Okay, fine. Then where?”
“My bed, you nimrod!”, he snapped with a scowl, then grinned. “Got a nice mattress with good lumbar support.”
*****
You had followed Joel to his room and were pleasantly… let down. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but the beige walls and the picture of a horse above his non-exciting bed were not what you had thought he would have. What surprised you was the essential oil diffuser plugged in on his bedside table, giving the air a fresh lavender smell.
The fact that the rest of his house looked like a rejected concept for an early nineties sitcom and his bedroom looked like a bed and breakfast that had no theme, for some reason, made you want him more. This man and his lack of consistency. You needed him in you now.
Grabbing his arm and turning him around, you pulled him into a desperate kiss; teeth and tongues, fighting for real estate in each other’s mouths.
“Get naked, sugar.”, he grunted as he broke the kiss with a lopsided grin. He unsnapped his shirt, revealing a grey, stained undershirt, its ribbing pulled tight and stretched over his belly while his mouth and surrounding patchy facial hair glistened with your saliva.
While he wasn’t being that polite, he wasn’t being mean. That was a problem. Even with how mundane he’d revealed himself to be, it wasn’t enough. The residual dampness that made your panties stick to your core was a result of him yelling at you out front, and that goodwill your pussy had shown was slowly drying up.
Joel’s hands began to make quick work of his belt and stretch denim jeans, but he noticed you not moving to do the same.
His hand flapped at you in an urging motion, “Make with the no clothes. Can’t fuck you with them on.”
His eyes narrowed as he noted your lack of movement, and he paused. You began to see signs that Joel was getting mad, and your mind flipped through every situation you’d witnessed him lose his shit in. What was it that would set him off quick? You weren’t about to throw a block party in his room, nor were you a religious group knocking at his door early on a Saturday. Then it clicked.
A devious grin broke out slowly on your face as you sat on his Temperpedic mattress and crossed your arms.
“Make me.”
“You indignant little shit…”, he growled, clenching his fist.
A flutter in your lower belly. More.
“Come on. Make me.”
“You fuckin’ tease… Fuck you!” His eyes were filling with fire.
An almost painful need bloomed in your core. More!
“Fuck me yourself, coward.”
He sputtered and guffawed, eyes wide in rage.
“You fuckin’ shit! Bangin’ up my truck and actin’ like a needy Jezabel just to fuckin’ tease me like this!”
You could have cum right there, between the iron grip on your wrist and his loud belittling.
You couldn’t stop the giggle that erupted, and he snarled. He grabbed your hand and yanked you up off the bed. You truly thought his back was bad enough that the effort of getting you up alone would be too much, but he shoved you against his dresser, then slamming his weight into your back. You whined, feeling your pussy clenching on nothing.
“You’re such a shit!”, he grunted, grabbing your elasticized waistband, and yanking your leggings and panties down on one side while your hand went to the other; the two of you awkwardly working towards removing your barrier.
When they were low enough on your legs to step out of, you clumsily did so, then tried to turn around to help Joel. He wasn’t fast enough, swearing under his breath as your hands lifted his belly to access his strained button fly. His mouth was on your neck, sucking and biting like a dog on a window while a steak was being grilled just on the other side.
You pushed his jeans down around his hips and they pooled around his ankles. He kicked them off and bit down on the crux of your neck and shoulder as your hand cupped and felt up his hard cock.
Jesus. Oh fuck.
Joel was hung. Like unreasonably so. You’d had your fair share of men slamming their pork steeples into your wet cunt, but none of them could even hold a candle to the monstrosity that sat heavy and covered in satin in your hand. You planted your hand on his chest and pushed him back, needing to get a peek at what Joel was packing. You immediately looked down, seeing the Wile E. Coyote faux-satin boxers protruding out in an impressive, and frankly intimidating, bulge.
“Oh shit...”, you breathed out, contemplating on whether you truly needed to do any serious sitting for the next week, or if you could maybe just get away with laying down at work.
His hand snapped to your jaw, forcing you to look him in the eye, and he gave you a dark smile, “Showed up to a gun fight with a knife, sugar?”
You didn’t have time to respond because Joel shoved his hand between your legs and harshly began rubbing your clit.
Your eyes fluttered and rolled back. Joel watched, an approving sneer on his face.
“’S fucked up … you like this?”
“uh…. Uh-huh…”
“You’re a lunatic…”
You smiled lazily. “You’re fingering a lunatic… w-what’s that say about you?”
He paused then huffed out, “That I’m fingering a lunatic, you moron.”
You let out a throaty laugh that bleeds into a moan as Joel shoves two thick fingers into your hole, slowly dragging them out before plunging them back in.
“You’re a sick little shit… you seducin’ and teasin’ an old man, an’gettin’ me all wound up… Neighbourhood headache… that’s you. Fuckin’ shit up and walkin’ away with a smile on her dumb face.”
“’M close… don’t…. don’t stop…”
His fingers kept the slow languid pace going as he leaned in and harshly whispered, “Unlike you, sugar, I don’t like to leave people disappointed.”
His eyes never left you, watching your every move. Every involuntary twitch and shudder, every flutter of your eyelids and breath leave your parted lips. He could feel it around his fingers and see it on your face that you were feeling everything intensely and now that he had you like this, he wasn’t going to let you go without making sure you weren’t going to pull this shit again.
Joel was many things, but a man who could let things go was not one of them. He was tired of hearing you cream and cry on whatever silicon thing you were shoving into yourself through your bedroom window as he lost his shit on someone; tired of seeing you make eyes at him while you sat in your front yard as he grumbled at a neighbour for the state of their lawn. He was still furious at you for once letting your hand - your soft, sweet, tender hand - linger on his when handing him his mail that was accidentally delivered to your home, forcing him to sit in his shitty recliner and try to finish with his calloused, rough, and hard hand. He never came.
You were going to pay for that. He’d promised himself that for almost five years and now here you were, on your way to being a muppet with how his hand played in your pussy. Joel’s time had come.
You came, moaning, on his hand as he watched, his fingers still moving in and out of you, and his thumb took up the task of tending to your twitching clit. Your face twisted and you cried out, trying to push his hand away.
Your tongue felt thick in your mouth and a moan seeped out. As you rode the wave, he yanked his hand out and grabbed your arm, throwing you onto the bed.
“Goddammit, you’re such a pretty shit.”, he grumbled, reaching for your ankle, and tugging your ass to the edge of the bed. You tried sitting up on your elbows, but he shoved you back down with his body weight.
His weight. Good god, he felt heavier and better than you ever thought he could as he pressed you down into the mattress.
But he got up off you, trying to wrangle your ankles and pull your exposed pussy to just the right spot to save his back from being strained. You tried sitting up again, wanting to have some sort of control over the situation, but Joel growled and grabbed your hips, and, in an impressive feat, flipped you onto your front all while grumbling about what a pain in the ass you were.
“Can’t even fuckin’ be considerate enough to stay put…”
You heard him spit then grunt, figuring he was priming that fucking meat wagon between his legs, and you let out an impatient huff.
“Knock that shit off!”, he snapped, flicking you on your ass cheek. “You just came, nimrod. You can fuckin’ wait!”
“Yeah… but I wanna cum again!”, you whined out with a smile, trying to not laugh at how irritated he was with you.
“I bet you do… but you’re on my time, and I am a patient man, sugar.”, he crooned lowly, snaking his hand up your back and to your hip. You squirmed a bit, but his hold kept you planted in place, and his other hand held his cock as he nudged it against your opening.
The smile on your face dropped as his huge member pushed in; your mouth opened, and out came a gasp followed by a choked moan.
“That’s it… Jesus Murphy… not even fuckin’ your throat and I got you to shut your mouth…”
Yes, you knew Joel was huge. But it was just an abstract concept up until that moment. Now that he was shoving his massive dick into you, you felt like the universe’s mysteries were now clearly laid out. You knew what religion was right, who shot JFK, how they made the moon landing look real…
Nothing in life would ever surprise you again because you were being split open by this grumpy, fat man. You were being ruined by Joel Miller.
He grunted as he pulled back and then slammed into you.
“Tight little snatch, sugar… takin’ me like a champ.”
You couldn’t respond. Your brain had melted and left your skull empty, and you were unable to do anything but breathe loudly and moan, “S’too big… too big…”
Joel snickered and grunted, snapping his hips and shoving himself deep. You wriggled and squirmed, simultaneously needing him stop and to fuck you harder. Your head began to feel faint, and your core squeezed him, forcing a groan out of him.
He began to snap his hips faster, panting and grunting like the fat kid in gym class being forced to run a mile. You whined and squirmed, trying to get your knees under your body to be able to push back against him, to get him deeper, but he grabbed your calf and bit your leg right above your sock with a growl then groaned, “Stay… stay put… don’t move… jus’lemme… lemme finish…”
You let out a yelp than melted into a moan, throwing yourself into another orgasm. Joel’s thrusts became hurried and more erratic. The high-pitched whine that ripped out of Joel sounded like a dog begging for table scraps as he shot his load into you.
He collapsed onto your back, both of you panting. After what felt like hours but in reality, was only about 30 seconds, Joel had gone quiet. You nudged him, hoping to god he didn’t die from a pussy-induced heart attack. He grunted and struggled to push himself up off you, then flopped on the bed next to you. You rolled over onto your back and looked at him. His cheeks were flushed, and his brows furrowed; his wispy salt and pepper hair stuck to his forehead and his eyes were closed. He was still breathing heavily through his mouth. You smiled, feeling a fulfillment you hadn’t since you’d convinced your parents that it was your sister who broke the CD-ROM drive in the family computer even though it was really you. Cuddling into his, your fingers drew heart shapes in his sweat coated chest hair.
Now that he’d fucked you, you wanted to clear the air as it were, and make sure he wasn’t going to make you pay for any damage to his truck. “So…”
Joel grunted in response, one eye opening and looking at you.
“I was just wondering… what’s your licence plate mean?”
He sighed and closed his eye again. He said the meaning quietly and at first you weren’t sure you heard him right.
“What?”
His cheeks flushed a little harder and he rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a huff.
“ShagMaster 9000.”
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sweet plum | chapter five
series masterlist | pinterest board | spotify playlist
pairing: pedro pascal x fem!reader (plus size)
rating: mature (will become explicit in the future)
warnings: n/a in this chapter
summary: pedro needs your help in a pinch
a/n: thank u all again for the support on this story <3 AND ONCE AGAIN FUCK STARBUCKS i wrote this last year and it's ended up being a thread throughout the story but i'm planning on keeping it out of future chapters. i also made a cutie little pinterest board that follows the plot of the story and shows outfit visuals and stuff and a spotify playlist for vibes!!! they are linked if you wanna check them out. xoxoxo<3
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It’s been almost two months since you’ve seen Pedro.
Not without phone calls, of course. You talk, probably once a week minimum, ever since you met up for burgers that one time. He calls you for advice a lot, and it’s often for things that he probably doesn’t really need advice for. One time he called you to ask if he should get chicken or steak tacos. It was three in the morning.
You started working on a new show that films in town. Your clients are nice, friendly enough, but too self-centered and addicted to social media to pay you any mind. So you just work, chat with the crew, read, and try to fill the time. Most days you’re home by 6pm. Some days your roommate convinces you to go out dancing with her, some days you meet up with friends for dinner or drinks, but most nights you spend at home alone.
Pedro always seems to call at the most inopportune times. Half the time you’re sleeping, which has allowed you to perfect the skill of sounding very alert on the phone, even through your drowsiness. Work has you up at seven, so you aren’t exactly the night owl that you used to be, but Pedro sure as shit still is. And though you’ve shown up to work mid-yawn after many interrupted nights of sleep, you don’t mind. You’re just glad he thinks of you.
Because you think of him. A lot.
You’re curled up now, in the corner of your bed, a white fluffy robe draping across your curves. A mound of pillows and stuffed animals cradles you as you lazily scroll through an endless feed of Instagram stories. You eventually encounter Pedro's story, a repost of an old picture from his Javier Peña days.
Once you start thinking about Pedro it’s hard to stop. Your mind will wander and wind until you've fully immersed yourself in a daydream, completely out of touch with the reality attempting to claw its way back into your conscience.
Your eyelids flutter shut as you let a fantasy drown you. Pedro, in your chair, reaching his hand up to cradle your waist as you work to perfect the few strands of hair that are disobeying you. You gasp at his touch, your body erupting with chills as he snakes his strong, thick hands underneath your shirt and up your back. Your knees begin to buckle as you lean into him, a soft and needy whimper escaping your lips. He guides you with his palms to sit on his lap, facing away from him and towards the mirror showcasing your illuminated figure.
Neither of you speak as Pedro caresses you beneath your shirt, his callused hands setting fire to the soft skin there. He runs a thumb over your nipple, sending a searing sensation through you, and you bite down hard on your lower lip, your legs instinctively spreading to welcome his touch there. Your heavy breaths gain pitch as he gently twists and pinches at your nipples, your head falling back and your chest hitching with shallow, needy moans. He raises your shirt and removes it with ease, tossing it to the floor and returning his touch to your desperate skin. You feel him slowly start to unbutton your jeans as his other hand gathers your hair and drapes it over one shoulder, exposing the right side of your neck. He tips your head to the side and lowers his mouth to the spot beneath your ear, as his fingers slip past the hem of your panties and works their way toward your—
bzzz bzzz…. bzzz bzzz…..
You yank your hand out of your pants as your eyes shoot open.
Incoming call: P
“Shit,” you mutter, trying to regain some composure before you answer the phone. Of course he calls you right fucking now. A dry lump of shame forms in your throat as you slide the little green icon to the right.
“H-Hey P,” you manage, still halfway out of breath from how startled you were.
“Plum! Hey! I’m so glad you picked up!” He exclaims, slightly winded on his delivery. “How are you?”
“I'm, uh, good! Yeah, good. How are you?” you say hesitantly, your mind reeling with nonstop guilt.
“Well, I need your help.”
He goes on to explain the situation. A photoshoot and interview, in Anaheim, tomorrow. His regular groomer, stuck at home with a sick kid. He’d pay double, he’d drive you to and from, etcetera.
"Hey, of course, I'd be happy to. I don’t have to be back to work ‘til Monday anyways. Don’t even worry about paying double,” you insist.
Aside from the obvious benefit of seeing him again, you could use the extra cash. Plus, you know his hair like the back of your hand. It’s easy money.
“Are you sure? I know it’s the weekend and all, I don’t want to steal you away from the LA nightlife,” he chuckles.
“P, my plans this weekend involved a bottle of red and a chick flick binge. I promise LA won’t even notice I’m gone,” you giggle.
“You. Are. A. Lifesaver. Seriously, I thought I was going to have to do my own hair,” he jokes, the phone line crackling as his laughter booms through the tiny speaker.
“Oh, we absolutely can’t have that now, can we?” you tease.
“Fuck offfff,” he jests. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 8.”
. . . . .
Criss-cross on the stoop outside your apartment building, you wait sleepily for Pedro to arrive, two sweet plums in hand. You have your kit, stocked up with Pedro’s favorite scented hair products, and a few different pairs of shears. You’re giving the man a haircut if it’s the last thing you do today. You're absolutely certain he needs it.
Various items rustle about in your tote as you dig to find your book. You've decided to reread Pride and Prejudice, one of your favorites. You can’t even count how many times you’ve read it now, let alone watched the various movie renditions.
The 2005 version with Kiera Knightley reigns supreme as your favorite. It’s the definition of a comfort story for you, getting you through many a sleepless night and emotional breakdown. Your only qualm with the book is that it does not include your favorite moment from the movie, a fact you know is utterly ridiculous since the book is quite literally the source material.
The scene where Mr. Darcy appears, his flowing linen shirt halfway unbuttoned as he strides towards a pensive Elizabeth, who has finally realized that her feelings for Darcy have turned to those of love. Darcy speaks, overcome with adoration as he says: “You have bewitched me, body and soul and I love, I love, I love you.”
Just replaying the scene in your mind makes your toes curl.
Your train of thought is abruptly interrupted as a black sedan pulls in front of you. You lift your gaze to find a beaming Pedro, his head halfway out of the window, shaking and taunting you with a venti Starbucks cup.
“Look what I haaave,” he sings, his eyebrows wiggling up and down.
“Ah, the perfect bait,” you joke as you gather your things and load them into the back of his car. You skip around to the passenger’s side of the car and open the door to find a chocolate muffin and a bouquet of flowers placed on the seat.
You shoot him a puzzled expression.
“A thank you. The least that I can do on such short notice,” he flashes his smile as you pick up the flowers to examine them. The bouquet consisted primarily of daisies, your favorite flower.
“How... how did you know I like daisies?” you question.
“I saw you one day, out by the lot, picking some daisies that were growing along the road. You had tied them into a little bouquet and brought them back into the trailer,” he chuckled softly. “Anyways, I bought a vase too so we can put them in water later.”
You remember. Honestly, you didn’t think he noticed them, which didn’t bother you by any means. You'd put them in there for your own benefit, a little splash of something in his agonizingly plain trailer. You’d put the flowers in a mug, the only thing you could find in the little kitchenette he had. They sat on the counter where you’d place your things every morning, and, in a way, sort of “claimed” your territory in the space. Pedro never said anything about them, which you just chalked up to him and his limited attention span.
“That’s… so sweet,” you smile, a pink heat creeping across your cheeks as you take a seat beside him. His thoughtfulness never fails to surprise you. “Thank you, gosh, you really didn’t have to do all this.”
“I really did,” he leans over and gives you a cramped hug from the side, squeezing your shoulder and leaning his head of unkempt curls into your cheek. “Now, can you pick the music? You have better playlists than I do.”
“Oh ho ho, so you finally admit it!” you shout, snatching the aux cord from his hands with a devilish grin.
“You just need to put more Prince on them. They’re seriously lacking in the Prince department,” he rebuts as he takes a massive gulp of his iced espresso.
“Listen, I love Prince as much as the next guy, but not every playlist has Prince energy. I gotta keep the vibes consistent,” you explain as you take a bite of muffin, your hands cupped awkwardly to catch any crumbs that fall from the wrapper.
Pedro quickly reaches into the compartment between you and pulls out a napkin, holding it right underneath your chin as you chew on your first bite.
“You have a little…” his eyes dip to the left corner of your lips. “May I?”
You nod slightly as you watch his gaze, sparkling with a chestnut hue in the glow of the daylight. He gently uses his thumb to brush your lip with the napkin, catching whatever missed your mouth. He proceeds slowly, his stare focused and his touch intentional. You feel that familiar flush prickle your face as your eyes meet and he softly bites down on his lower lip.
“I got it,” he hands you the napkin as he starts on the road. “Don’t worry if you get crumbs on the floor. I snack in here all the time.”
You settle back into the chair, hopeful that your makeup is doing some heavy lifting to hide the heat you're certain is speckling your cheeks. In your haze you choose a playlist, one you made specifically for road trips, and scatter some Prince songs amongst the queue. You relax your shoulders and gaze beyond the dashboard as Pedro hums and drives you out of the city.
. . . . .
Pedro supplied you with a solid earful of his subpar vocals on the drive over. You sang along too, not really with your real voice, but more of a comical, singing at the top of your lungs with your friends kind of voice. The traffic wasn’t nearly as bad as you thought it would be, but it still took about an hour and a half to get to the location of the shoot.
Pedro walked with you to the sign-in desk and waited for you to get your badge, even with the dozens of employees trying to show him the way to his dressing room. He smiled as you draped the lanyard with your name around your neck and linked your arm with his as he led the way.
Your hands are raking through his hair, covered in a light pomade to bring out his natural wavy-curl texture. He always hums a bit when you work products in, so you take a little extra time to give his scalp a massage. His shoulders relax at the sudden pressure and his head falls back into you, resting gently on your stomach.
“You know that’s my favorite... mmmh,” he closes his eyes as your hands travel down to the base of his skull and you start kneading with your thumbs. “I've missed that.”
“I could so easily… just…” you snake your hands down and gently wrap them around his throat.
“Hey!” his spine shoots up straight as he yanks your hands from his neck. “Taking advantage of me at my most vulnerable… not very nice.”
“You've gotta to be more alert!” you joke as you go back to finger-curling his more defined ringlets. “Some crazed fan could seduce you with scalp massages and then try to crush your skull.
“Well I don’t let anyone else give me scalp massages, you know,” he looks up at you, tilting his head back, his gentle curls falling from his forehead.
“Oh, so you’ve been deprived these past few months, huh?” you tease, returning your hands to his scalp and deepening your pressure.
“Mmmmmhmmmmmm…” he hums.
“Well, just so you know, I don’t give scalp massages to any of my other clients,” you speak, slightly under your breath. “So, whenever you want one, all you have to do is ask.”
His eyes soften slightly at the statement and a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. You can’t help but let a stifled grin spread across your face as well.
An easy and comfortable silence falls over you as you finish up styling his hair. The brief asked for bouncy, voluminous curls with a windswept look, and you’re curious to see what the wardrobe looks like to match. You cross your fingers, hopeful they'll let you go back with him.
Much of the time you've spent with Pedro has caused you to often completely forget that he’s famous. You’ve never really been out with him during the day, nor have you gone to any super crowded places together. The only time you've been reminded of his fame was when you went to that little diner on the outskirts of LA. But even then, it didn’t feel like he was famous exactly. It felt more like he was a regular, a familiar face, a friend.
Now this is the first time you’ve been in an environment like this with him. There’s a swarming hoard of interns popping in and out of the already cramped room every few minutes, offering various snacks and drinks and bringing handfuls of clothing to drape over the empty hangers. One of them even showed Pedro his Mandalorian tattoo.
Of course, Pedro is a fucking sweetheart to anyone who crosses his path. Flurries of his “yes please!” and “thank you so much!” flood the room as more and more people bob in and out, ready to wait on him hand and foot. You feel a bit goofy, standing awkwardly off to the side as people dart around, like you should be helping. It’s what you’re used to, after all.
After a few minutes, Pedro walks toward the door as he's called out of the room. You start to make yourself cozy on the loveseat until you hear the low bark of a clearing throat.
“Are you not coming?” Pedro turns to you with a quizzical brow.
“I… I can?” you stumble on your words as you shove your book back into your bag and get back on your feet.
“Come. What if my curls drop?”
“Not on my watch," you wink, gathering your things and following close behind him.
. . . . .
You manage to locate a fold out chair —wide enough to accommodate your hips and ass— and find a spot, somewhat tucked away but still in Pedro’s sightline. You pull your phone out and immediately send a picture of him to Bella, catching him just as he makes eye contact with your camera. You burst out laughing, garnering a few head turns and a middle finger from Pedro.
Bella’s name pops up on your screen. Incoming FaceTime. You answer.
“Hi! Hold on, lemme sneak out of here,” you whisper as you speed-walk out of the room, ducking your head slightly so as not to garner any attention.
Once you escape into a hallway, you exchange equally joyous greetings, gushing with excitement to see each other.
“I miss you!” Bella exclaims. “You're with P today?”
You find a corner to sit, tucked away from the hustling bodies in the hallways surrounding the studio.
“He needed a last minute hairdresser for a shoot and I just happened to be around,” you explain, your voice slightly above a hush. “I miss you sooo much! How are things?”
Bella updates you on the important bits. Work, family, dramas, a new possible romantic prospect, they wiz through it all. You listen intently, wildly entertained and extraordinarily grateful to get to witness the musings of a British teenager.
“Anyways, I don’t know what’s gonna happen with her. I don’t think I can be with a girl who isn’t out to her own mum,” they conclude after an animated recounting. “Too… messy.”
“Agreed,” you nod. “You’ve got too much goin’ on for messy.”
“Sooo… what about you?” they question in that sing-songy, teasing tone that they frequent in your presence.
“What about me?”
“Any… romantic developments?”
Your eyes do near 360 into the back of your skull.
“Bellie, you know I don’t really date.”
“When was the last time you saw Pedro? Other than today.”
“Uh… maybe two months ago? Why?”
You hear them mumble something unintelligible under their breath, only catching the last word, “Idiot.”
You crank the volume on your phone, trying to make out what they’re saying.
“What? Who’s an idiot?”
“He doesn’t... listen… nevermind,” they cut themself off.
“Who? Pedro?” you blurt, somewhat fervently.
“You’ve really perked up,” they tease.
“Can we use more words, instead of being purposefully elusive and mumbling?” you quip, half-teasing but with an air of genuine frustration.
Bella starts giggling as they attempt to get their words out.
“I… I know. I. know you like him."
Your jaw goes slack, your mouth falling open in surprise.
"Your face!" they cackled.
You don’t have to see yourself to know that you’re certainly a sight to behold. Your cheeks are burning up. The air is grazing past your widened eyeballs, drying them out as your lips curl inwards. Bella’s laugh is bellowing and crackling through your headphones.
“Bella! Does he know?” you whisper, the fire in your cheeks beginning to become unbearable.
“I… I don’t know! I think so? Man, I wanted to just let this run its course, but I’ve known that you guys have feelings for each other for sooo long now. It’s been seriously painful to watch.”
Your stomach somersaults as the heat spreads to your ears.
“Did… did he tell you that?”
“I can’t believe you guys are the adults in this situation,” they mutter through their stifled chuckles. “I mean, he didn’t outright tell me, but he didn’t have to.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Listen, no grown man asks for advice on how to ask his hairdresser to hang out.” they say quite matter-of-factly. "Even my gay ass knows that."
You chuckle briefly in response, until a moment of understanding silence hangs between you. You realize you have no rebuttal to the statement. They really aren't wrong.
“Well I can’t… do anything about this, right? He’s… Bella, he’s Pedro fucking Pascal for christ’s sake.”
“And? He’s still just P. And you’re still you. Fame might make things complicated, but then again, romance is always complicated. Life is complicated. But the journey is where you find the joy.”
Wise ass kid.
You go silent for a moment, the belligerent swarm of contradictory thoughts and feelings buzzing around in your head getting louder and stronger by the second.
You almost don’t want to believe it. Once you allow yourself to step into that territory, you know you won't be able to reel it back. It would change things, permanently, whether you want it to or not.
“You’re right,” you admit, your expression softening into something more akin to defeat. “I just... I need to think about it for a little longer."
You say your goodbyes and end the call, feeling slightly breathless and a tiny bit dizzy from the gravity of it all. It’s stupid, yes, because no matter what lies you've told yourself, you know there is something more between you and Pedro. There’s been far too many moments, too many palpable signs to ignore. Actually admitting that to yourself and allowing your brain process it as a fact is something else entirely; something that simultaneously thrills and terrifies you.
It takes you a few minutes to settle yourself and muster the strength to stand up and walk back to the studio. Nothing has to change, you tell yourself.
Nothing has to change.
You re-enter and spot Pedro, mid-smoulder, working the hell out of the color block sweater they chose for him. It’s enough to garner a small chuckle from you as you make your way back to your seat.
You make yourself cozy in your folding chair and pull out your book, attempting to lose yourself in the pages to distract from the butterflies ravaging your stomach. It doesn't take long for the power of Jane Austen to transfix your attention once again.
“Is there something over there? You keep looking to your right,” you overhear the photographer saying to Pedro. You look up and immediately lock eyes with Pedro. He lets a gentle smile paint his face as he turns his attention back to the camera.
This is going to be harder than you thought.
The group breaks for lunch about 30 minutes later, but you’re too immersed in your book to actually notice. You only snap fully back into reality when you feel a wide hand gently graze your shoulder.
“Pride and Prejudice, eh?” Pedro peers over your head. “Is this your first time reading it?”
“Oh god no. I’ve lost count at this point,” you admit. "It's probably my favorite book."
“Good girl,” he gives you a gentle pat. “I knew you had good taste.”
… Much harder than you thought.
. . . . .
The remainder of the day flew by. You ended up taking a little snooze on the loveseat in the dressing room while Pedro went to interview (not entirely on purpose, but it did help the time pass nonetheless). You and Pedro said your goodbyes to the team, and the creative director liked you so much that he even asked for your card for future projects. Score.
The traffic you’re currently sitting in is horrendous. You’ve been in stop and go for nearly 30 minutes now and the GPS estimates another 30 until you make it out of the majority of the congested zone. Fleetwood Mac lilts from the speakers on the dash as you and Pedro jabber on about whatever comes to your minds. You just pray he isn’t picking up on the incessant nervousness you’re swallowing between each sentence.
“So what’s your favorite flower then?” you blurt, changing the subject almost entirely. “You know mine, only fair I know yours.”
“I don’t know if I have a favorite, per se, but I like purple flowers,”
“Oh, come on, that’s cheating,” you nudge his forearm that rests on the console between you. “There’s gotta be one you really like. This is, like, vital information. How else am I gonna know what to get you when you win your first Emmy?”
“Ha!" he bellows. "Well, in that case, I’d love a bouquet of daisies. They’ll remind me of you.”
He places his hand softly over yours, his fingers falling effortlessly into the gaps between your knuckles. You inhale with surprise, your chest noticeably hitching as you draw the breath in. A tightness surges in your chest, hot and asphyxiating as his thumb traces a little circle on the back of your hand.
You can’t bring yourself to remove your gaze from your lap, but you return his touch with a gentle squeeze, a reciprocation to the best of your ability. You wait anxiously, fully expecting him to unweave his fingers from yours, but he doesn’t. The muscles in his sturdy, flexing hands soften into a state of rest and settle atop yours.
This is the kind of thing Bella was talking about.
You’ve worked so hard to convince yourself that the little moments like this mean nothing, that Pedro is just a highly affectionate person or that he speaks to his other friends this very same way. Of course you’ve held hands with friends, but never with such tenderness and intention as the way he’s touching you. Your skin never felt like it had been lit ablaze, not in the way that it does at this very moment, with any friend you’ve ever known. With anyone you’ve ever known, if you're being honest with yourself.
Curiosity and apprehension rage like a wildfire in your mind, though ultimately your desire to know what he’s thinking breaks through the clouds of smoke. You turn your head to face him and are met with his profile, the sunset kissing the outline of his skin and illuminating him divinely. Your most favorite parts of his visage are displayed like a wonder of the universe, as his dimple slowly appears and his eyes wander to meet yours.
And then he smiles, teeth and all, and you want nothing more than to lunge out of your seat and kiss him.
But you don't.
You sit there, lips parted and breaths heavy as you turn your gaze back to the road. Frozen, as he unwraps his fingers from yours. Silent, as he turns up the volume of the music. You curl your hand into a fist at the loss of his touch.
Unable to withstand another moment of tension, you offer to show Pedro a podcast you think he'll enjoy. He obliges, and you listen the rest of the way home. You laugh, add little comments here and there, argue for a brief moment about the pronunciation of an artist’s name, amiably of course. You inch your way back to normal once again.
Once you finally arrive at your apartment complex, it’s almost 7 o’clock. The sun has long since vanished, your street only lit by two warm-yellow street lamps on either side of the main doors to your building.
“Well, this is me,” you turn to him and say, your voice mimicking that of a cringey romance film.
He laughs, the sound certainly escaping the confines of his car and down the street, as a couple jerk their heads in surprise towards your direction.
“I’ll walk you to the door,” he offers, unbuckling his seatbelt as you do the same.
“Oh, you really don’t have to do that,” you mutter as you gather your bag and water bottle from the floor.
“I waaant to do that,” he quips, his tone jovial and his head bobbing slightly as he teasingly mocks you.
You roll your eyes with a grin and exit the car as he meets you on the other side. You point to your entrance and start towards it, and suddenly feel his hand softly rest on the small of your back as he follows by your side.
His touch ignites something inside you, awakening a train of thought that you're incapable of slowing down. You can’t deny it anymore, he is everything you could ever ask for, everything you've ever wanted. And here he is, walking you to your door, making sure you get home safe.
You arrive at the doorstep and Pedro swiftly pulls you into a tight hug, his hands softly squeezing at your hips as he gently presses his face into your hair. You wrap your arms clumsily around his shoulders and embrace him on your tiptoes, your chin resting perfectly in the crook of his neck as you drown in his intoxicating scent. He presses his body into you and breathes deeply, letting out a little hum with the exhale.
His hands snake across your back and land uncrossed, resting softly on each side of your waist. He pulls away to look at you, and a tender smile crinkles his eyes and tinges his words as he speaks.
“Thank you so much fo—”
His sentence stops short as your hands grasp his face, your body possessed by something buried within you.
And you kiss him.
Hard. With desperation, like you're moments from death and his lips are your saving grace. He lets out a little grunt of confusion as your mouths collide and he grasps at your skin, bunching up the fabric of your skirt with his grip. And right as you feel him start to soften into your touch, his hands pulling you in, his lips melting into yours, you pull away.
“I... I...” you stutter, your eyes blown wide and mouth agape as you scour your brain for a string of coherent words amongst the rubble inside your head. “‘I’m so sorry.”
He inhales, and before he can respond, you interject.
“I-I’m so, so s-sorry,” you fumble as you yank your keys from your purse, frantically trying to scan your key FOB to unlock the door. “God I- I’m so sorry.”
The light on the detector turns green and you scramble to get your hand on the door handle.
“Shit... cmon...”
“Wait, I—” Pedro grabs your free hand.
You swing the door open as you slip through his grip, lunging yourself into the opening and slamming it behind you. You bolt to the elevator, jamming your finger on the button repeatedly until the doors part. You can hear Pedro’s voice, calling your name from down the hallway behind the glass keeping him away from you. You turn as you enter the elevator and see him, his hand flat on the window, a desperate expression as he shouts to you. The doors close and he disappears from your sightline.
Your knees fail you as your back slides down the wall, until you thump gracelessly onto the floor.
“Shit.”
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chapter six
#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal#plus size reader#jose pedro balmaceda pascal#the last of us#pedro pascal x reader#chubby reader#fem reader#slow burn
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Nepty, im humbly asking…
… for more out-of-shape, sympathy-weight-packin, thicc daddy Fish.
So be for you ask, I know… why is this request coming from me? Well… yeah, I got two chubby Frankies percolating constantly in my noggin cottage, but your Frankie… the cannon accurate Frankie with more meat on his bones… I NEED HIM. I YEARN FOR HIM.
please, Nepty - help a thirsty thot out!
I’m-looking-for-the-sky-to-save-me regards,
Beefro👌🥩💜
Come Back To Me - A Frankie Morales One Shot
Hey Beefro! 🖤
Look, I humbly worship at your pot-bellied Pedro Boy altar! I am so not worthy, my friend! And the fact YOU love my canon-realistic thicc Frankie-boy makes this gal blush and squeal like a Red Wattle Hog being spit roasted on Labour Day, seriously... I am in awe of you. 🥹 So, can I do this justice for you, my mighty meat queen? 🤔😬 I mean, I'll give it a (one) shot. 🫣
Summary: Frankie makes you a promise and seals it with more than a kiss.
Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub.)
Word Count: 2.8k-ish
Scoville Smut Rating: 🌶️🌶️ "It's the emergence, of."
Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here
Explicit: Established relationship/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)
NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned. I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.
Author's Note: This is part of the Frankie's Way universe. Frankie Spanish translated at the bottom.
Enjoy! 🖤
You can hear the tinkering. It's what wakes you to find his side of the bed empty. Nothing but a heavy indent in the bare sheets.
That tinny sound of metal upon metal clanking as you pad your way through to the kitchen, after checking on Gigi who's still sound asleep in her crib.
You can already hear the expletive slurs in Spanish, and grunts of frustration ebbing in from outside.
You enter the side door leading into the garage, to see Frankie going at the garage door that's rolled halfway up - or down, depending on your outlook - with a handful of tools that aren't doing a thing to appease it loose where it's gotten caught on it's damn rusted hinges again.
You sigh and you hear him growl out in a deep frustration at it.
Sweat shimmers at you from the back of his neck under the nape of unruly curls squashed to his head by his cap, and you wonder how long he's been at it.
Leaning up, his grey t-shirt rises up his back at he stretches, revealing tanned divots in the golden flesh, and a waist that's fuller and dumpy and makes your mouth salivate.
He's packed on a few pounds since settling into fatherhood, and you don't mind at all, enjoying that he might have a third helping of the meals you cook, or indulging his sweet tooth in a rogue dessert or two.
You rouse his attention when he glances at you over his broad shoulder chucking the tools down on the work bench with gritted teeth.
"Hey, did I wake you?" He says concerned, and his expression softening immediately. He traipses over to you and lets his eyes drop over the crumpled silk camisole and shorts you've slept in.
You shake your head as he presses a kiss to the side of your jaw; the soft scruff tickling gently, and his big hands settle on your hips.
"The door's gone again?" You query bleakly, and he nods looking at you with deep chocolate eyes that seem tired.
"Yeah, piece of shit. I don't know if I can fix it this time." He murmurs with a helpless shrug.
You sigh again, knowing it's forcing you to confront the obvious. It's all stacking up in odds against your resolve.
You need a new garage door. You need money to buy a new garage door that you both don't have. You need money for more diapers and groceries that seem never-ending in their need; for new clothes as you've noticed Frankie's wearing the same t-shirts with holes in them that seem to be getting bigger and wider as he stretches them out now with his chunkier build.
You need money for the mortgage payment that's already late this month.
Frankie's putting in the overtime at the workshop, but it just isn't enough. You'd contemplated picking up some hours at a coffee shop or something to help, but he insisted you be with Gigi when he saw how upset being parted from her, whilst she's still so young, made you.
But you both can't keep struggling like this. It's unfair almost. It makes you resent that the guys don't seem to be struggling as much as you and Frankie are.
Will proudly showed off his new TV at the barbecue he threw last week as Frankie scratched the back of his neck awkwardly as he flicked through the HD channel offerings, and you were certain Benny wore new sneakers.
You need the money that's buried at the bottom of that chasm in the Andes mountains to buy a new fucking garage door.
Frankie growls into your shoulder with a defeated sigh, seemingly able to read your thoughts.
You've both spoken about Pope's unexpected visit and proposal at length ever since he left the offer hanging over your heads like a precarious weight ready to crush you at any second. Discussed through all the pros and cons.
The biggest con being Frankie returning on a slab of ice like Tom did. You shudder and Frankie's arms are felt caressing at your back.
"You cold, hermosa?" He asks.
You shake your head in defeat. "We need that money, Frankie." You whisper gravely as it cuts slinters in your stomach lining to say it out loud.
It can do so much more than replace the garage door. It can give you a comfortable life, a stress-free life. One where you're not losing your hair in the shower thinking about how you're going to be able to afford to pay the bills this month.
It'll give Gigi a good start, a nest egg. Enable Frankie to get good support with his ongoing sobriety and cut back on the hours you know are killing him. But he never complains despite it all.
It's a beguiling thought that's been haunting you ever since Pope shoved it so easily under your nose, making your fingers twitch with all the possibilities. All the tempting could-be's and what-ifs.
And you want to hate him for it, for passing you a much needed life line. You want to resent the very fabric of the idea of Frankie returning with him and the boys to go and retrieve it because you know what it could cost.
You know what you could lose for the sake of some printed paper. But it's printed paper that you need to live this life with Frankie. A life that you almost lost the first time. You wonder how it would be, if it would be worth it. How he'll be when he returns this time...
You think about the box sitting on the dining table full of his Delta Force gear that he'd packed away and shoved into the attic after last time, vowing it would never come out again as you both realised that stupid expedition almost cost you everything.
You were infuriated to learn it had all been for nothing. He came back with nothing, and more of a loss than when he left.
And now, it's all there. His tac vest, his desert boots embedded with sand, his guns... all ready for him to put back on when you to say the word. Because he wouldn't commit fully to Pope, not without your say so this time. It wasn't about Pope and the others.
It was about you and Gigi. It was about his world.
Frankie nods, pressing his forehead to yours. "I know, baby." He squeezes at your hips gently.
His body is warm from the exertion of trying to fix the garage door. His t-shirt is damp around the neck and under the arms and he smells musky. You run your nose along his shoulder inhaling the salt of him in.
Things had gotten back on track with you both, despite it taking time and effort to repair the holes. He's stayed sober despite this being a trying time. You'd been proud of him for stepping up, for coming back to himself. For realising that he could put Gigi down and she'd be fine, even though most of the time she was sat on his hip as he moved about the house when he was home.
You'd both finally been able to be intimate again after so much trepidation and angst, and it was amazing. Having Frankie back between your legs on an almost nightly basis, even after Pope's damning offer.
And to lose all it all now? The thought bites horribly at your ankles and makes you feel sick.
"Promise me." You look up at him. "Promise me you'll come back."
"You know I will." He says seriously.
"Promise me, Francisco." You repeat. You only use his full name with heavy gravitas and he knows how heavy this is for you. For you both.
Your hands run over the thickness of his own hips, fingers shucking into his belt loops and pulling him towards you. "If I let you go get it, you have to promise me you'll come back. That's the deal."
"I promise. I promise I will come back to you both, te lo juro." Frankie nods.
You nod back as he presses another kiss to your jaw. He trails more up the side of your face into your hairline. Your hands squeeze at his ass, meatier and fuller after months of packing on the pounds, his jeans being tighter against it.
You wonder if this shape and weight of him now could manage such a treacherous expedition. Whether it would be a hindrance or to his ultimate detriment.
You squeeze your eyes shut willing your mind not to go there. It can't. He can't-
"Hey," you feel his fingers tilt your chin up to face him. "I'm coming back," he promises sincerely.
And when Frankie looks into your eyes, you believe him when he says he'll come back for you and Gigi. And he'll come back with the golden ticket you both so desperately need.
"There's no way I'm leaving you, okay?" He says, as you nod despondently. It's the only choice you have and you both know it. You both need this. "Do you trust me?"
"Yeah, I do. We need this," you appease.
"I'll be back within a week. Won't even notice I'm gone."
"Yes I will. I'll be worrying non-stop until you're back here with us." You say, with a faint smile ghosting over your lips.
"I don't want you to worry, baby."
"Too late," you say.
"We're doing it my way. I have a plan. For every eventuality." He confirms. "It's all I can think about. We should have fuckin' done it my way last time. Maybe if we did, Tom would..."
"Don't do that. It wasn't your fault." You say.
He nods solemnly. "I know." You see him quickly blink away the excess moisture pooling in his eyes.
"Besides, I'm always going to worry. No matter how prepared you are, or how big or strong you are..." You say, groping at the thickness of his shoulders and then down to his biceps. You groan as you squeeze them and he notices.
"You like that, huh?"
"I love it," you say with a smirk.
"It's your fault, fattening me up. You're too good of a cook."
"Just more of you to love," you giggle, as he presses his face into yours. He kisses across your cheek and settles on your lips. You can feel how hard he is as he crushes you into his arms and against his stacked body.
Slipping his tongue inside your mouth you can't help but moan and falter in his grip; like pudding slipping through his fingers, your legs buckle and you feel instantly weak for him.
"Prometo que voy a volver, hermosa," he whispers.
Your hands work his belt and zipper as he squeezes your ass.
"I believe you," you confirm. "I'm gonna miss you so much." You gasp around his lips. You can feel all the heat in your body flooding towards your core.
"I'm gonna to miss you too, baby."
"Show me," you entice.
You reach in and pull out his fat, leaking cock into your hands without hesitation. You both groan at the sight of it; swollen thick and with a flushed head and succulently wet.
You trail your hand up, pushing his t-shirt out of the way to get a better view of the tanned paunch he has settling over his hips. You run your fingers across it, skimming gently and making him shudder before taking a handful of his belly and squeezing gently as you jerk him slowly in you other hand.
He whines, his own hands pulling down the straps of your camisole and taking your freed, puffy nipples into his mouth.
"Mmm, Frankie..." you groan, as he latches on, sucking and nipping across them both hungrily. "Fuck me," you plead.
You need him. You need him inside you filling you up with more than his promises.
Quickly, he pulls you to him and pushes you against the work bench. Turning you so your back is against his chest, and pulls your shorts down as your hands reach behind you, knocking his cap off and clawing through those sweaty curls desperately.
He reaches forward and swipes his fingers between your thighs finding a slick, wet pool waiting for him. You arch your back and groan out as his fingers tease through your folds, circling on your clit making your thighs shake.
"Fuck," he moans into your hair. "Siempre estás tan lista para mi."
"Baby, I need you," you sigh, reaching round for his cock that's leaking more wet strings onto your butt cheek as you grind against him.
You feel his stomach crush into your back as he groans when you touch him. He's so heavy against you and you pulse at the thought of his weight sinking you into the mattress beneath him when he fucks you hard in bed.
He lines himself up, sliding his thick head through your drenched lips, once, twice before he sinks himself into you, stretching you open again around him.
You both cry out, a little louder than you probably should with the garage door rolled up halfway. Anyone passing by on the street at that moment would see both your bare legs and know immediately what's happening. But you don't care.
You need him. You need Frankie like this, all thick and heavy and crushing against you with his warmth and heavy belly as he buries himself deep into your sopping cunt from behind.
You need to remember the feel of him like this on your body whilst he's gone.
His arms wrap around your stomach holding you tight against him as his hips shunt up and fuck you deeply. Every breath catches in the back of his throat as he does it, and your whines and moans only grow louder.
Twisting, your lips find his as he sucks in breaths with each hard thrust, his hands sliding up to massage and grope at your breasts. Both of you locked tight together, squeezing and gripping on to one another.
"Mmm," you groan around his teeth. He feels so good, filling you full of him. His thick thighs hitting against the back of yours, the weight of him against you making you safe and warm. Knuckles bruising against your own as you scramble for one another and lock fingers.
His digits on his other hand play with your clit, circling around that buzzing hub of nerves as your thighs shake again, and you can't help but bend forward into the pleasure of it all as it builds.
You feel it at the back of your skull, blooming like a flower with petals unfurling that blind you. "You feels so fucking good, don't stop!" You whine as you hold onto the work bench.
He grips onto your hips and fucks you harder now; thighs now slapping against your ass as he bottoms out continuously, filling the deepest parts of you with him.
Frankie leans over, kissing over your shoulders and neck. You feel his teeth indent and bite as he sucks the skin there. "Fuck, baby." He whines close to your ear. "Want you coming over my cock," he hisses.
"I'm close," you pant.
"I know, I can feel you squeezing me." He smirks as he sucks more of your skin into his mouth like he's starving. "You feel so good, I can barely stand it, baby."
You stand up, pulling from him and turn, sitting on the bench as you wrap your legs around his waist. He pulls you closer to the edge as he slides back into you.
You cling onto his shoulders, your face pressed against his as he fucks deeper and slower. His cock hitting against that spot that makes you dizzy and absolute putty in his hands.
You watch as his belly ripples each time he flexes his hips and you can't help yourself but to reach down and stroke it. He chuckles as you paw at it mesmerised somewhat by it's jiggling.
"You're so fucking sexy, Frankie." You moan as his hand joins yours, guiding it down to your pussy where he makes you stroke your clit for him.
"Not as sexy as you," he says, slipping his tongue back into your hot mouth.
You rub your clit as he thrusts deeper and you're almost there, right on the cusp. Feeling it build and pile up behind your abdomen as your thighs and legs tense and your mind goes hazy.
"Fuck, Frankie!" You wail, your voice escaping under the garage door and into the street.
"Come for me," he says and it's all you need as you burst, gasping out and shuddering as he holds you tightly and fucks you through it. "Baby, come for me."
"Come back to me, Frankie," you gasp clutching onto him.
"I'm coming back to you," he promises again.
"Don't leave me."
"Never."
"I need you back here inside me like this," you croak. "Fucking me like this with your big, thick cock... oh fuck!" You cry out as the wave subsides, leaving you shook and rattling.
"I'm coming back... fuck, I'm coming-" he stutters "I'm-I'm gonna come, baby... shit!"
You feel him tense and then gush, filling you full of warmth as he slows with a choke at the back of his throat. You stroke over his belly again, pinching the sides of his rounded hips gently as he smirks into your hair.
"You really like that, don't you?" Frankie says, watching as you grope his belly fat gently, lovingly.
He's noticed the extra love and worship you show his more wobbly parts these days. And it warms him to know it doesn't put you off. He knows you have hang ups about your own body since giving birth, but he couldn't find you more beautiful; stopping to lavish attention over the jagged lines and stretch marks on your tummy and hips when he goes down on you.
His cock falls from you, dripping his creamy spend onto the garage floor at his feet. You can feel it drip out of you too. He runs his forehead against yours sticky with sweat and hums contentedly into your face.
You kiss his soft, pink lips as you rub his stomach more. "I'm going to miss this the most whilst you're gone," you say with a dreamy smile.
Smiling at you, he knows it'll be alright. He'll make sure of it.
He's coming back to you.
🖤
Spanish Translations:
Te lo juro - I swear
Prometo que voy a volver, hermosa - I promise I'll come back, beautiful
Siempre estás tan lista para mi - You're always so ready for me
FRANKIE'S WAY | MAIN MASTERLIST
#pedro pascal x reader#frankie morales x reader#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#frankie morales#frankie morales smut#chubby!frankie#triple frontier fic#francisco catfish morales#jett's asks#jett's writing
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Ahoy Hottie! 💜🥩💜 you know I gotta do it to ‘em…
#9 & chubby!Frankie x f!reader 🥩 or just a plain ol’ fat frankie… I’m not picky.
Beefro👌🥩💜
Hey, Beefro! I can't tell you how excited I was to see this request! Hopefully I did fat Frankie justice 😘
Good 'n' Deep
Pairing: Fat!Frankie x f!reader
Word Count: 2.6k (oops 😅)
Tags/warnings: finger fucking, oral, multiple orgasms, piv sex, slight overstimulation, soft dom frankie, mentions of weigh gain, dirty talk, smut, fluff, idiots in love, manhandling, frankie being a fucking unit
Summary: Fat Frankie can't be sated.
*****
You get home late. And feeling awful.
It was supposed to be date night with your husband, but the boss kept you in for overtime. You know Frankie doesn’t mind, and reassured you about forty times that it’s not your fault, you still hate to skip it. But as he says, you always go out on Fridays, and the two of you have plenty of Fridays to make up for this one.
It’s not much, but you did pick up dinner at Frankie’s favorite fast food place on your way home. He doesn’t know yet, and you’re excited to at least surprise him with that. It’s a bit on the expensive side, but definitely worth it—both in the sense that it’s fucking delicious, but also that you’ll be able to see Frankie excited.
“Babe,” you call into the dark house as you toe your shoes off. You smile when you hear Frankie’s quick footfall coming right for you. He wraps you in a hug as soon as he gets to you, engulfing you in his warmth and immediately relieving some of your stress.
He leans down and kisses you gently, but only for a second because he’s suddenly very distracted by a certain smell.
“Ohhh, baby,” he groans, hands already reaching for the paper bag in your hand. “You’re the fuckin’ best.”
He plants a kiss on your head as you giggle. “You’re welcome, baby.”
You both walk into the kitchen and sit down at the table, pulling your food out of the bags. Frankie looks excited, just as you’d hoped he would be. He looks so good right now, wearing his gray sweatpants, his standard oil cap (which you swear he has separation anxiety with), and an old, white tank. There’s a ketchup stain on the front from about a year ago that just never came out in the wash. You also notice that it’s gotten a good bit tighter since then—definitely one of those shirts that Frankie keeps trying to convince himself that fits.
You won’t burst his bubble or anything, but he’ll need to try a bit harder, because there’s no way he’s fooling anyone. A sliver of his pudgy tummy peeks out from the bottom of the tank that used to cover him completely. The fabric hugs him tightly, probably just on the side of not being painful even though it’s being stretched to its limit. It used to hang loosely on him, but he’s gained a good bit of weight since the two of you have been together. You smile to yourself at that, glad to see him looking so happy and taken care of.
He groans as he takes the first bite of his burger.
“Fuck, thank you again, baby,” he says through a mouthful of food. You nod at him, mouth full as well.
The two of you talk about your days as you devour your food, you finishing quicker than Frankie but staying at the table while he finishes his other burger and large fry. He tells you that his day went pretty good. All the guys showed up at work and there wasn’t an issue to keep them on the job for longer than necessary.
You wait until he finishes his last fry before you start to pick up the trash. You take his cap off of his head as you walk by him so you can brush his hair back and place a gentle kiss on top of his head. He smiles warmly at you when you put his cap back on and move to throw the trash away. You glance at the clock, biting your lip as you decide there’s probably a bit of time to do something before you go to sleep.
“You want to watch a movie, Frank?”
He hms thoughtfully as you walk back toward him. “Maybe, " he says.
You move to pass where he’s still sitting at the table, but you’re quickly stopped and pulled into his lap, both of your legs draped over his thighs. You yelp and wrap your arms around his neck for stability.
“Think I’d rather have a snack though,” he says through a grin as he rubs the side of his face against yours. He then rotates your body so that you’re leaning against his back.
“Frankie, honey,” you giggle despite catching his meaning. “You just ate!”
You turn and poke his full stomach to prove your point, but he only grunts and holds you tighter.
“I’m feeling greedy,” he rasps into your ear as he grinds his hardening length into your ass. “Need my dessert.”
You shiver, lust staring to cloud your head. Leave it to this man to want to fuck you after a huge meal. He doesn’t wait for you to respond as he lifts your shirt up and you raise your arms for him to tug it off. Your bra is next, discarded on the floor next to you within seconds.
You give in—which isn’t very hard—and let yourself relax into him. You moan and he leans down to lick up the side of your neck, his beefy hand traveling even lower to worm itself beneath the band of your panties. He finds your clit quickly and immediately starts to rub circles just the way you like. Your hips buck a bit as you crane your neck to devour his plush lips with yours.
“Mm-Frankie,” you whimper against him as your thighs begin to tremble. You feel him smirk against you in return but say nothing. All you can focus on is the building of your orgasm, that addicting feeling tugging deep inside of you with a promise for more.
He lets his fingers slip down to your hole and gather the slick there before bringing it back up to create a smooth movement atop your bud, his hand moving faster and faster until the coil snaps and you’re crying out and convulsing on top of him. His other hand wraps around you to stop your thighs from closing, forcing you to prolong your pleasure as he keeps up his slowing movements.
You’re panting when you come down to your high, practically drooling with the back of your head planted on Frankie’s shoulder. You’re not sure when that happened, you leaning back and clutching his forearms so tightly that there’ll be nail marks when you let him go.
He chuckles darkly as you release him from your clawing grip, trying to calm your breathing. You’re only slightly aware of him helping you off of his lap to stand. He takes your hand and leads you to the bedroom. You must only be in there for a half-second before he’s pushing you down on your back and dragging you until your ass is basically hanging off the edge of the bed.
“Frankie!” You screech his name at all the movement, the way he’s man-handling you. He only smiles cheekily through the grunt he lets out as he gets down on his knees in front of your cunt to kiss the inside of your thigh.
“Sorry, hermosa,” he coos. Though he’s very obviously not that sorry because he goes right to practically ripping your pants and underwear down your legs. You don’t even bother yelping or reprimanding him this time. You know that he’s determined now, and Frankie Morales doesn’t relent until he gets what he wants.
He’s back at your cunt—in your cunt—before you can blink. You scream as he burrows the entire lower half of his face into your soaked folds and grasps your legs over his shoulders. Your hands fly to his hair, knocking his cap off in the process of getting to his thick, soft curls between your fingers. He moans sharply as you tug, unintentionally forcing him closer to you. You don’t worry too much, you know he loves it. He once told you that he would die a happy man if you ever got tired of him and chose to suffocate him in your sweet pussy.
He licks and sucks at a furious pace, completely skipping a buildup and going right to the action. It’s unbelievable to you how quickly he manages to make you come sometimes. You yell his name as he eats you out like he’s mad at you. It’s so fucking good, this blinding pleasure making your entire body shake and your blood run firey hot. And you know he loves it just as much as you do.
You start to fall limp again, sweat covering your entire body as he keeps drinking you up. You hiss, your body bucking as you pull on his hair again to try to get him off of you. You’re about to tell him you need a break, but then he suddenly has a finger gliding into your hole, and then two, and you don’t get the chance as your second orgasm melds into your third. He finger-fucks you at an inhuman pace, almost hurting your poor pussy with how hard he shoves them into you as he sucks harshly on your clit. The sounds are obscene even through the blood you hear pumping in your ears.
He starts to slow after you ride out your third high, though you’re not sure if it’s because he’s taking pity on you or if he genuinely just can’t handle not being inside you for another second. You assume it’s the latter as you listen to the sound of his clothes being tugged off, one arm thrown over your eyes as you try to collect yourself.
“God, you look fucking gorgeous, baby,” Frankie groans as he admires your limp, sweat-slicked body.
You lift your arm to find him between your messy thighs again, this time standing over you. Despite the three fucking orgasms he just gifted you, you feel your cunt clench at the sight of him standing so imposingly in front of you. He’s so fucking big and intimidating. He’s stripped all the way, as naked as you now, letting you see every inch of his gorgeous damn body.
He watches you with a gaze that tells you he’s in the mood to pound you through the damn mattress. You find yourself excited, despite already being sore, as he takes a step forward and lines up his blunt tip with your slippery hole. You whimper and grip the sheets as he starts to make shallow thrusts to push in, stretching you despite your excessive preparation and the amount of times he’s had you before.
He moans right along with you, gripping your hips and pulling you onto him. Your eyes roll back and your mouth drops open once he’s fully seated and breathing heavily above you.
“Fucking christ, baby. You’re so fucking tight,” he accentuates the last word by pulling out slightly and thrusting hard back into you, making your back arch when he slams into that spot deep inside of you.
He starts at a slow but forceful pace, making you see stars every time he pushes himself in. You watch him with hooded eyes, admiring how gorgeous he looks when his own eyes close and his lips part. His pelvis comes flush with your ass each time and he uses the opportunity to grind into you, rubbing your walls in a way that makes you want to cry. Actually, you think you are. It’s only now that you feel tears start to leak down your ruddy cheeks.
Frankie must have opened his eyes at some point while you were lost in your head, because he’s suddenly letting out a breathy laugh and using one hand to thumb away the tears. Your toes curl at the gentle touch compared with the brutal treatment of your cunt.
“I know, sweetheart,” he coos. “I know it’s a lot.”
God, he feels so good leaning over you. You want him closer—need him closer.
“F-Frankie,” you manage to get out. “N-Need you closer.”
He smirks at you and thrusts a bit faster, pushing you up the bed and leaning over you to kiss you deeply. One hand stays on your hip as the other cradles your face, keeping you where he wants as he devours your lips in a messy kiss. You wrap your arms and legs around his broad body, smiling a bit when they don’t wrap around him all the way. You love when he overwhelms you like this, completely trapping you under him as he pummels into you. He’s barely even pulling out now, just slapping his hips to yours as fast as he can as he whines and moans into your mouth. The grip he has on your hip is crushing, but it feels good because it’s him.
The coil is tightening once again within you, making everything go hazy as you focus solely on how he edges you closer and closer with every slam of his cockhead against your cervix.
He’s getting frantic, too. You can tell by the way he loses control of the kiss and his thrusts get even shorter.
“F-Frankie,” you mumble into his lips. “M-More.”
He picks up the pace yet again, making you scream when he hits a spot that you didn’t even know existed. You jolt against him, startled but the burst of pleasure that sparks through you.
“M-More,” you beg him again, panting so hard you think you might pass out. You need more. More of him inside you, on top of you. You need everything to be filled with him until there’s no room for anything else.
“‘M so close, baby,” he whines to you.
“Frankie, please!”
He growls against you and tugs back, slipping out of you with a lewd squelch. You don’t have time to cry out from the loss though, because he’s back in an instant to grab you and flip you over on your stomach. Then he’s over you again, slamming back into you with a single thrust. You’re forced to stay flat, your hands scrambling for purchase in front of you until he drapes himself completely over you, threading your fingers through his so he can use them as leverage to fuck deep into you.
“Better?” He grunts out, almost angrily. He’s so heavy above you, using all of the force he has to nail you into the bed in furious ruts, the entire thing moving with each pound into you. You can’t respond though, finding your voice trapped in your throat as you convulse around him. You’ve never come this hard in your life, even with him. It’s what you wished for—to be so overwhelmed that everything else is purely pushed from you. It’s all static right now, your brain, your body. You think you may scream his name, but it might have been a bunch of gibberish.
“This what you need?” he asks as he fucks furiously down into you. To be fucked good—hmng—good an’ deep?”
You use what’s left of your fried brain to nod beneath him, practically drooling onto the bed sheets.
“F’kn deep,” you slur, half-delirious.
You let him continue to pound into you until grunts loudly beside your ear and you feel his cum spurting into you. It makes you moan again, the way he keeps fucking it deeper and deeper into you. You quiver and he groans as he starts to come down himself, joining you once again in the real world. Your ears are still ringing and your entire body feels like you got tossed off of a mountain and possibly into a bit of lava, but you find yourself laughing once Frankie untagles your fingers and rolls to the side, taking you with him.
He starts to laugh with you, neither of you saying a word but knowing exactly what the other is thinking. Which is something along the lines of ‘holy shit’. Despite your sweaty bodies, you sink back into him and let him hold you close, both of you stuck in giggling fits and sharing little kisses until you fall asleep a minute later.
*****
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#pedro pascal#fan fiction#ao3#pedro pascal smut#smut#pedro pascal characters#fluff#pedro pascal fanfiction#frankie morales fanfiction#frankie morales#frankie morales smut#frankie morales x reader#frankie morales fluff#frankie morales x you#frankie morales x f!reader#plus size frankie morales#fat frankie morales#plus size character#chubby frankie morales
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Sweetheart
Pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x Chubby Black Reader
Warnings: interrupted sex, morning sex, oral (fem receiving), age gap (reader is mid-20s and Joel is 36), fluff, Joel is a gentle and giving man
A/N: Sorry it took so long to finish depression has been beating my ass. The fluff is dedicated to @rocketrhap3000
Sunlight shines through your sheer curtains, illuminating dust particles in the air. The morning sun was one of the only reasons you hated staying at Joel's. He refused to get curtains that actually kept light out. You had thick, black drapes that could block out sun even in the middle of the day in your apartment. Joel found your hatred for the sun hilarious much to your annoyance, affectionately calling you a hermit every time you whined about it.
Joel grunts as he turns over to face you. His dark eyes slowly open, a groggy smile on his face.
"Mornin' sweetheart," his voice is husky with sleep. Joel pushes a few locs from your face to give you a kiss on the cheek. You only groan in response. "Stop whinin' you hermit," Joel laughs. You cuddle up closer to him, pressing your face against his bare chest. Joel's fingers rake through your hair while his other hand rubs your back. You almost fall back asleep, Joel's heart beat lulling you into a peaceful void. Instead you're reawakened by your boyfriend rubbing your arm and pushing you to get up.
"No it's too early to get up," you moan, pulling a pillow over your face. Joel nudges you more with his nose.
"Come on, I'll make you breakfast."
"I'd rather die than eat your or Sarah's cooking," you joke. Your body starts to wake up more from Joel's annoying pushing. You remove the pillow from your face and smack Joel with it.
"Hey don't talk bad about my daughter! She's only poisoned you twice," he says in a sarcastic voice, dodging the pillow. "Get up."
Joel peppers kisses anywhere he could find, your forehead, your arm, your chest. He gives a kiss to each stretch mark he finds on the way. Even though Joel tries his best to rouse you, you decide to stay in bed a little longer and enjoy the attention.
"What time is it?" You ask, your fingers lace through his brown hair. Your boyfriend looks over to the bedside clock to check the time.
"7:32," he replies before going back to his kisses. Two hours before Sarah gets up. Joel makes his way down to your stomach and thighs. Your stomach tenses and your breath a little as he rubs your love handles. Butterflies spread through your body when he finally gets to your pelvis. Joel's chest rumbles in a hum, his mouth sucking hickies into your legs. The vibrations send tingles to your core. It takes everything in you not to force his mouth on your still clothed pussy. Joel senses your frustration and takes extra time to graze your inner thigh with his thumb, inching closer to your warmth.
"Don't be a tease," you sigh. A desperate aching permeates from deep within you. Your cunt clenches around phantom fingers, begging to be stimulated. His eyes meet yours when he tugs off your SpongeBob shorts. Your underwear is a testament to Joel's abilities to get you going. A damp patch sits between your legs, slowly growing with every second of teasing.
"I guess you're finally awake," Joel mocks, pulling your underwear off. A calloused finger rubs through your folds. An almost pornographic moan escapes your mouth from the sudden attention. You clasp your mouth shut with a hand to not wake Sarah. Heat builds in your body, making beads of sweat start to form on your forehead as he slips two fingers inside you. Joel’s fingers work you like clay, molding your flesh with ease. Your thighs start to shake in pleasure when Joel adds a third finger inside you. Your own hands wander underneath your oversized night shirt to play with your hardened nipples.
“Jesus Christ, Joel! That feels so fucking good, don’t stop!” Joel’s tongue licks at your clit timidly. His darkened eyes meet yours as he lowers his mouth to your pussy. You’re practically hypnotized by their darkness, almost like they’re completely black instead of the dark brown you’re used to. Joel hums in response to your plea, his mouth now acting as an organic vibrator.
Your eyes roll towards the ceiling as you try your best to silence every noise coming from your mouth. Labored breathing fills the room along with the sound of Joel’s fingers slamming into your wet pussy. Saliva drips down the side of your agape mouth as the coil that has been building in your belly tightens in preparation for your orgasm. Joel’s mouth sucks harshly on your clit, low moans escape his chest. Both of you are so wrapped up in the moment that the groggy footsteps of your step-daughter go unheard.
As your back arches in ecstasy a loud knock comes from your bedroom door.
“Dad? Are you up yet? I’m gonna make breakfast, what do you want?” The door knob turns and the door opens slightly before you can cover up.
“No!” you and Joel yell in unison. Joel attempts to hide underneath the covers, but Sarah sees it all.
“Ew, oh my god!” Sarah shrieks before slamming the door, her footsteps speed down the stairs. Joel’s face turns ruby red in embarrassment and horror as he quickly removes the covers and runs after her. You lay in the bed too afraid to look Sarah in the eyes ever again. If I get up now I’ll be able to change my identity and run to Mexico. A muffled thud comes from down stairs.
“Uncle Tommy, you'll never guess what I just saw!” Sarah yells, her voice becomes subdued before she can finish talking.
“Nothin’, she saw nothin’,” Joel quickly interrupts. You can only imagine Tommy’s confused face, it almost makes you laugh. More shuffling comes from the bottom floor and you decide to put your shorts back on and head down. The silence between Joel and Sarah is almost suffocating and you’re not the only one who feels it.
“What is wrong with them today?” Tommy asks with a mouth full of leftovers.
“I have no clue.”
Taglist: @hatterripper31 @aiyaaayei
#black reader#reader insert#chubby black reader#black girl reader#black!fem!reader#fanfic#chubby reader#reader insert fluff#joel miller x reader#joel tlou#joel miller hbo x reader#joel miller smut#joel the last of us#joel miller x poc!reader#joel miller x black!reader#joel miller x chubby black reader#joel miller x plus size reader#joel miller x plus size black reader#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal imagine#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal
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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐝 - 𝐣.𝐦. 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
"𝚜𝚘 𝚕𝚊𝚢 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚐𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗."
pairing: post outbreak!joel miller x plus sized!younger!reader
warnings: age gap, joel is 56 y.o, reader is 25 y.o, slow burn, death, violence, su*cide attempt, mentions of depression, anxiety, self harm, su*cidal tendencies, poor mental health, depictions of violence, torture, sho*ting, st*bbing, self defense, mentions of sexual assault, assault, being held hostage, anger issues, etc. descriptions of living in an apocalyptic world with the infected.
more warnings: drinking, smoking, sex, hunting, fighting (physical and verbal), sexual experiences, descriptions of sex acts (porn with a plot), swearing, MINORS NOT WELCOMED.
summary: joel finds his way back to jackson with ellie after the incidents with the fireflies, and made it his home over the next year. the winter was harsh this year round, hitting jackson a bit harder than they figured. you were a hardheaded girl in her mid twenties, fighting to survive when you found yourself giving up in the middle of nowhere. that middle of nowhere just so happened to be right in the middle of an alarm system outside of the commune. so what happens when the people that find you happens to be none other than the miller brothers?
notable mentions: this is a dark fic! apocalyptic au! set after joel's hospital massacre. ellie is now 15. no use of y/n.
this is an 18+ fic. mdni.
chapter one - stiff and cold
- joel and tommy find your blood soaked body under a thin sheet of snow near the commune, and take you back where you wake up a week later.
chapter two - hell above
- your first week in jackson went just as expected. the world you lived in was hell, but this seemed like paradise to you. except the fact that it seemed like living under joel's roof made him a bit uncomfortable, weary even, and it showed.
chapter three - protection
- it's been three weeks since you made jackson your new home, taking classes in order to patrol, working, and joel is doing his best to try to get used to having you around while you are figuring out your feelings towards him.
chapter four - no good
- one month in jackson and you're still having a bit of trouble fitting in like ellie and joel (sort of) did, until you finally get your patrol route and partner. after he hears that your new partner has invited you for drinks, joel isn't to happy to watch you get ready to see another man.
chapter five - forfeit
- it was your first day of patrolling after earning the right to, but it was flipped upside down when tommy decided he needed to use you and joel for his own little mission. things go awry and soon there's nothing but heated tension that causes little spats to and from the destination.
chapter six - a good man in a bad time
- the next morning after coming back from your unexpected mission with joel was very eventful, and unbeknownst to you, joel felt the need to invade your privacy. it was your birthday, turning twenty six and you were feigning for a little pleasure. at the end of the night, you got it.
chapter seven
chapter eight
chapter nine
chapter ten
this is an prolonged series! out now! updates will continue during the last week of october!
[ in the mean time, check out my kinktober masterlist for some upcoming joel miller oneshots! ]
#fat girls#smut#plus size smut#chubby#pedro pascal#joel miller#joel tlou#joel x reader#joel miller x plus sized reader#the last of us#chubby smut#tlou hbo#tlou#the last of us hbo#plus size reader#curvy
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I'll protect you... (bc you're mine) JavierPeñaxchubby!f!reader
OMG. I can't believe I managed to write this. It's almost past midnight (in my country) but I had to finish this.
Inspired by a wonderful oneshot DESERVE IT by @creedslove I wrote something similar.
It wasn't supposed to be smute but I blame it on you @creedslove
(You are wonderful and thank you for helping and listening to me)
So chubby!reader accidentally had a date with Escobar's man. While talking to her boss and agents, one of the CIA agents insults her. Javier comes to her defense. She thinks Javi is only doing it out of pity, but... Hmmm... Read this ;)
Warnings: +18, NSFW, angst, fluff, some swearing, derogatory comments about a woman's appearance, mild anxiety, oral sex, dirty smut, possesive dark!Javier (but just a little bit) implied unprotected p in v
*
When you entered the embassy in the morning, you were in an excellent mood. You had a great date the day before. At the bar you met a nice Colombian who bought you a drink. You danced with him a few times and he promised you that you would see each other again soon. However, your good mood was quickly ruined when your boss summoned you to a meeting in his office.
You didn't know what you did wrong. You were an ordinary administrative worker and you did your job very conscientiously. Your mouth went dry as you walked into your boss's office. There were two CIA agents there, but there was also Javier Peña. He was leaning against the desk in his skinny jeans and navy blue shirt. Oh god, that man was so hot. You'd be lying if you said you didn't have a crush on him. The truth was, you were crazy about him. Every time you brought him some papers to sign, you got butterflies in your stomach. At the same time, you felt that you had no chance with him. You knew his reputation. Besides, you didn't think Javier was attracted to women of your type.
Sure, you were beautiful. But you knew you had more pounds than other women. You weren't tall or thin.
"Y/N we need to talk."
Your boss's stern voice snapped you back to reality. What have you done wrong? You mixed up the documents? Maybe you gave something that belonged to the DEA to the CIA. Or vice versa.
"What happened?" you asked with a slightly trembling voice.
CIA agent Josh showed you a photo of you and Leonardo outside the bar.
"So what, are you dating Escobar's sicario?!"
"What?!"
You felt weak and your heart was beating like crazy.
"This man works for Pablo Escobar."
You heard Javier's voice. Unlike Josh, he spoke calmly to you. And you were really grateful to him for that.
"I... I really didn't know." You looked at your boss. "I swear... I met him a few days ago at the store... He was kind and helped me get something from the top shelf" You heard Josh snort and felt even worse. "Yesterday... He recognized me, he bought me a drink... That's it..."
"Did you tell him you work at the embassy?" asked Adam, the other CIA agent.
You shook your head in "no".
Josh slammed his hand on the desk and you jumped. You didn't even notice that Javier was standing right next to you.
"Then he must have known that. Otherwise why would he be hitting on you. Look at you?! What other reason would he have?"
Tears stung your eyes and you couldn't say anything. Fortunately, you didn't have to.
"Hey! Aren't you exaggerating?"
You heard Javier and looked at him surprised. He looked really pissed off.
"Is it so strange that he approached a pretty woman? I don't blame him."
"You go for everything, Peña." Josh barked back.
"And you, you're blind and stupid! And you're waving your little dick..."
"Gentlemen! Enough!" Your boss's scream interrupted the argument. "You're acting like children." His gaze fell on you. "Y/N you can go for now. If there's any doubt I'll call you back."
You almost ran out of the office. You had to hide. You weren't able to sit down at your desk and work normally after all that. Of course, you chose the women's restroom as your hiding place. You locked yourself in the cabin and let the tears run down your cheeks.
You knew what your body looked like and for years you learned to accept it. You were on the right track, but... One asshole ruined everything. You heard a knock and screamed
"Occupied."
"Everything's all right?"
You couldn't believe whose voice you were hearing. You quickly wiped the tears from your cheeks even though Javier couldn't see you anyway.
"This is the women's restroom, agent Peña"
You heard a soft sigh on the other side, and though you couldn't see him, you had the impression that he leaned against the door.
"Josh is an asshole, but he's right about one thing... That sicario might know you work here. You need to be careful Y/N. Don't go to that bar again."
"Ok." you whined. "Can you leave me now?"
"Yeah, but... You just know where to find me. And... There's no point in crying over a dick like Josh."
You didn't answer, and Javier stood outside the door for a few more minutes. You finally heard him leave and breathed a sigh of relief. You didn't want his sympathy, but also... He seemed so nice and sincere that you felt a little better.
*
You couldn't concentrate for the rest of the day. Josh's words came back to you like a nightmare. You couldn't even eat anything. Because of all this, you didn't make it with the documents and stayed overtime.
When you left the embassy in the evening you saw Javier leaning against the car. He looked like he was waiting for someone. As soon as he saw you, he threw out his cigarette and quickly made his way towards you.
"I'll give you a lift." - he said.
You were really surprised by his behavior.
"I'll be fine." You replied a bit coldly.
"Y/N, this really isn't a good idea. Personally, I wanted you to get protection."
You snorted and said:
"From whom? Leonardo? Josh? Or you?"
You didn't want to be mean to him. But you were tired and sure that Javier just felt sorry for you.
"Hey, I really just want to help you."
"But I don't need it. I don't need your sympathy!" You groaned and just walked past him.
But you soon regretted it. The streets seemed strangely quiet and somehow darker. You felt a shiver run down your spine as you passed the alcoves. Colombia was a dangerous country. People were kidnapped straight from the streets... Sometimes even during the day. You saw a group of young men in the distance and you thought Leonardo was among them. You stood still and started shaking.
What if everyone was right? He knew you worked at the embassy and wanted to get information out of you? Paranoid thoughts ran like crazy through your head. You decided to run towards the embassy. But when you turned sharply, you hit in a solid body. You screamed as you felt a grip on your shoulder.
"Y/N, relax, it's me, Javi!"
You opened your eyes and instinctively grabbed his leather jacket.
"What is wrong?" he asked, his hand going immediately to the gun.
You glanced behind you at the group of young men and realized that most of them were kids. "I thought I saw Leonardo." you whispered.
Javier sighed and pulled you closer. He put his arm around you protectively.
"I didn't mean to scare you, I'm sorry. But will you at least let me protect you now?"
You nodded your head and snuggled closer to him. You were really scared, and his body felt like a safe place. He slowly started to lead you towards where he left his car.
"Did you follow me?" you asked after a moment.
"Well... I was more like protecting you. I wanted to make sure you got home safely. And to tell you that I didn't stand up for you because I felt sorry for you. I did it because I thought you were an attractive, hot woman."
You were in shock. You felt your cheeks burn. As if that wasn't enough, Javier's hand gripped your hip tighter.
"And I would do anything to prove it to you."
"Everything?" it slipped from your mouth.
Javi stopped, looked down at you and licked his lips.
"Everything, mi dulce"
He cupped your chin with his hand and then bent down and kissed you deeply. For only a split second, you thought you should push him away. But he was so sweet. When he pulled away from you, he shoved his knee between your legs, and you looked around nervously. You were still on the street. It was empty, but you were still worried.
"I want you to ride me." he whispered close to your ear. "I want to eat you, bite you and lick you. I want your whole body."
"Javi" you groaned.
His words and the pressure of his leg made you wet. You clung to him like he was the only thing keeping you from drowning.
"Come on, baby. Say you want it too. I'll obey your every command."
"I want...I want you to take me to your place."
You didn't need to say any more. He hugged you again and began to lead you quickly to the car. Like a real gentleman he opened the door for you and waited for you to sit down. Who would have expected that from Javier? As he took the driver's seat, you could see he was already half hard. You also couldn't wait. As if that wasn't enough, he grabbed your thigh with his free hand and began to travel up your leg.
You felt a little anxious. Now that you're in his car... with hot Agent Peña. You started thinking too much. He's had so many women before you. What if you fail him? You didn't even realize you were so nervous until he spoke up.
"If you've changed your mind, no problem. I'll drive you home." His voice was so gentle it was hard to believe.
"I... It's nothing."
You looked down at his hand. Your skirt was pulled up and exposed your plump thigh. As if reading your mind, Javier began to gently stroke your leg and said:
"There's no reason why you should have a complex"
Then he took your hand and placed it on his bulging crotch.
"If you don't believe me, at least believe my dick. He doesn't lie."
You couldn't help but chuckle slightly. Javiert smiled smugly when he saw that he had made you feel better.
"As soon as you're in my bed, I'll make all those bad thoughts disappear from your mind, hermosa."
At his words, you felt yourself warming up again. When you finally arrived, Javi clung to your back. He hurriedly opened the door and began to undress. He threw aside his jacket and shirt. He took off his shoes then sat on the couch and pulled you onto his lap. He started to run his hands under your shirt. He squeezed your breasts and covered your neck with kisses. He grabbed your shirt and looked at you with his brown eyes.
"Can we get rid of this?" he asked gently.
You nodded and he took off your bra as well. You saw how his eyes sparkled with delight when he saw your naked breasts.
"You're so delicious, baby. I don't know where to begin."
He started licking and kissing your breasts as you writhed on his lap. He teased your nipples, pinched them and bit them gently with his teeth. You grabbed his hair and started moaning. He pulled away from you and hooked his thumbs up the waistband of your skirt.
"Can we move on?"
"Yes!"
He laughed at your reaction.
"So impatient. Relax, I'll give you everything."
You got up from his lap and he helped you get rid of the rest of your clothes. You felt so exposed for a moment, but the way he was looking at you... Oh god. He looked like a hungry animal. He ran his hands over your body in awe. He grabbed your hips and pulled you to him. He kissed you deeply and then switched places with you. You sat down on the couch and he knelt in front of you. He placed his hands on your knees and spread your legs apart.
"So pretty." he said to himself and started kissing your thighs.
After a while you felt his warm breath on your pussy. You threw your head back as his tongue began to curl around your clit. You grabbed Javier's head. You didn't know if you wanted to push him away or hold him. You've never felt like this before. His mustache tickled your sensitive labia, stimulating you even more. You started to squirm, but his strong hands gripped your thighs. His fingers dug into your skin. You knew he'd leave bruises all over you, and you had no problem with that. You felt yourself leaking as his tongue began to dig inside of you.
"Javi... I..."
"Yes, cum for me. Feed me."
You groaned deeply as the shock ran through you. Your legs were shaking and Javi continued to lick you as you slowly came out of your orgasm. As you tried to catch your breath, he rested his head on your thigh and looked at you like a puppy. Your juices were running down his chin and he looked so pleased you almost forgot he was still wearing his pants.
"Javier?"
"Hmm, cariño?"
"You said I'd get anything I want."
He smiled and nodded.
"What do you want, princesa?"
"I wanna ride you."
His eyes turned almost black with desire. He immediately got up and extended his hand to you. Seeing the question in your eyes, he said:
"I don't think you want to do it here. The bed will be more comfortable."
You nodded your head and grabbed his hand. As he led you to the bedroom, he immediately took off his pants and his penis popped out and stood proudly. Droplets of pre-cum glistened at the tip. He was wonderful and you were not surprised that women were so eager to return to his bed.
"Do you like what you see?"
You nodded and he walked over to you and gripped your hips tightly.
"And you know what I like? Your body marked with my marks so every fucking sicario knows you're mine."
You shivered hearing his possessive voice. You screamed as Javier bit your arm.
"If any more of Escobar's men come near you, they'll find his body dumped in a ditch with a bullet in his head. From now on, I'll protect you because you're mine."
His words made your pussy clench around the emptiness.
"Javi please..."
"Say it!"
"I'm yours."
"Yes, you are mine. And I am yours. And now you will get what you want."
He pulled you onto the bed. He lay down on his back. You sat on top of him and he placed his hands on your lap. He bit his bottom lip and kept his eyes on you. You slid your fingers into your pussy, collecting the moisture and then smearing it on his cock. He gasped and moved his hips. You felt you had complete power over him, but you didn't want to tease him. You were so on fire that you needed him inside you. You got up and grabbed his cock in your hand. You were slowly going down. You moaned as it filled you up. You placed your hands on his chest to gain some leverage and started riding him. His moans mingled with yours. Javier's hands were squeezing your breasts and you felt yourself getting closer to your second orgasm of the evening.
"I'm close..." you groaned.
"Yes, yes honey... I'll be right behind you."
You threw your head back as the electricity from your pussy shot through your entire body. Javier got up and wrapped his arms around your body digging into your pussy. You clenched around his cock and he let out a growl and felt his cum fill you. You fell on the bed together.
After a few minutes, Javier sat down and reached for a cigarette. As he smoked, you rested your head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat. His hand was stroking your hair and he was right about the bad thoughts. He threw them all away. You forgot Leonardo, Josh... Everything. Javier was the only thing on your mind. You felt sleepy. Javier covered you with a blanket and whispered:
"Sleep, mi amor. Tomorrow I'll drive you to work and make sure no one hurts you."
"Thank you Javi." you whispered.
The last thing you felt before falling asleep was a gentle kiss on your head.
*
A few days later, you heard an amazing rumor. You immediately ran to Javier. He was just making coffee. When he saw you, he smiled widely.
"Princessa"
"Javi, do you know what happened?" Without waiting for his response, you added "Apparently someone called Josh's wife and told her about his hooker trips. Do you know anything about that?"
"I?" Javi looked awfully proud of himself. "Who could have done this? Some really bad man."
He walked over to you and grabbed your ass with one hand, squeezing tightly. You jumped slightly.
"Javi" you hissed. "Not here"
Not caring about your words at all, he whispered directly into your ear:
"Mine."
*
Next part: Part 2 (but be warned, Javier will turn into a toxic asshole who will control the reader)
#javier pena x reader#javier pena#narcos#javier pena fanfiction#pedro pascal fanfiction#chubby!reader#hurt/comfort#javier is so sweet#pedro pascal characters
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Loving your Sigma x Reader x Nikolai!!!! Keep up the good work pookie/p
Thank you sm and ironically my best friend calls me pookie so I’m flattered
#x male reader#sub male reader#x male reader smut#bottom male reader#bsd x male reader#bsd x reader#dom male reader#fyodor x male reader#demon slayer x male reader#muzan x male reader#aaron hotch x male reader#doflamingo x male reader#creepypasta x male!reader#jason the toymaker x reader#kokushibo x reader#könig x male reader smut#toji x male reader#x chubby reader#x sub male reader#pedro pascal x male reader#anime x male reader#zoro x male reader#toji x chubby reader#kakashi hatake x male reader#gyotaro x male reader#kakashi x male reader#simon riley x male reader#manhwa x male reader#crowley x male reader#laughing jack x male reader
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Join me in posting some of the fics you’ve reading right now, or one shots you’ve recently enjoyed!
Tag with “#what’cha reading Wednesday” or drop me a dm or an ask to feature the work for you!
Cruel Summer by @pr0ximamidnight -
Summary:
Joel takes a contracting job renovating a master bedroom and bathroom while the homeowners are away for the summer on a cruise.
He wasn’t expecting their twenty-three year old daughter and the thoughts he’d have about her.
Oh Honey by @lincolndjarin - (This one is a thriller/ Monster fic so please read the tags!!)
series summary : you’ve been given a gift. a fresh start in a brand new place, the sleepy little town of Honey, WV. a distant aunt has passed away and left you a little plot of land and her camper, the stars must be aligning for you because the local mortician is looking for an assistant and you’re desperate for the work experience. your new employer even offers to set you up with her brother-in-law! things are looking up, you’ve got a brand new home, a new town, a hot date, (and thanks to a series of bear attacks that started immediately after your arrival) you have more than enough work to keep you busy!
On the Waterfront by @beefrobeefcal
Boston. The Frontiersmen is a crime syndicate that deals in drugs, arms, and anything else they can to keep themselves on top. Since the original ring leader, Tom, was allegedly taken out by a rival gang, it's now run by Big Fish, with Pope second in command. Ironhead runs the numbers and Benny is the muscle. Your family member put you down as collateral when they needed credit to score more smack. Problem is, they can't pay it back, and Big Fish & the Frontiersmen always get their payment...
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#fanfic#joel miller#smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller x you#the last of us#francisco catfish morales#chubby!frankie morales#Chubby!Frankie#francisco morales#what’cha reading Wednesday#WRW#fic recs#v’s fic recs#V’s Frankie fic recs#V’s Joel fic recs#Celebrating authors
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#me#selfie#curvygirl#geek girl#beauty#chubbie#prety girl#plus size#latina#cute#pedro pascal#thick and curvy#chubbie girl#thick hips#thick legs#t shitrt
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Beefro Proudly Presents:
a Joel Miller & his Darlin' One Shot: A Trouble Shared is a Trouble Halved
Summary: You and Joel navigate settling down in Jackson as a couple with its ups and downs. (Post Outbreak)
Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader | Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) | Word Count: 3,900
Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, fingering (f receiving), talk of eating, weight gain, oral (f receiving), angst, established relationship growing pains, argument
Author's Notes: Am I back? Maybe baby! I'm delighted to finally do what was asked of me in a poll and I thank you all for your love and patience.
Thanks be to @neverwheremoonchild, @strang3lov3, and @notjustjavierpena for their eyes, thots, and brains. And thank you to @noxturnalpascal for the THOT that gave life to this fic so very long ago.
“Eatin’ like it's your last day on earth, Miller...”, you teased with a wry smile as you walked past him in the dining hall.
“Shut it...”, he grumbled, a bit of pink flushing his cheeks. He took another bite of gravy-flooded mashed potatoes.
“What helping’s this? Third? Fourth?”
Joel looked at you, exasperated. “The fuck? Can't a man enjoy his girl’s cookin’ without the third degree?”
You smiled at him, loving how much of a rise you were getting. It had been a few months since you and Joel had your first encounter, and while nothing was made official, more often than not, you’d find yourself entwined with Joel in your bed at night. His heavy, full stomach pressed against your back as you both slept peacefully. While you enjoyed your time together, you were beginning to feel something was lacking, hence your teasing.
The cold glare he gave immediately dampened the playful banter between you. You felt a twist in your mood and sour heat in your stomach.
He shook his turkey leg at you, giving you a scolding look, and warned, “You better knock that shit off, Darlin’... or so help me, I’m not gonna - .”
“Not gonna what?”, you asked, getting closer, and you voice dropped down to a cool whisper only he could hear. “Not gonna fuck me? Pretty sure haven’t been doing that lately anyway, so what’d be the difference, huh?”
He sat back with wide eyes and his mouth open in shock, and his full belly sat rounded out on his lap. You stood up, brow raised, and arms crossed.
“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?!”
Joel was affectionate, but usually too tired, full or both to do anything but let you ride him. And not to say you didn't enjoy it, but it was starting to feel a bit one sided. He hadn’t done anything beyond finger you a bit to get you ready and then sweet talk you into being on top again. He’d apologize and praise you, but you wanted more. Especially now that there was more to him.
His eating habits had really started to impact his physique; his jawline was softer, his arms and thighs were thicker, but his stomach was truly the star of the show. He’d made do with the clothes he had for as long as he could, but at the rate he was eating and the limited physical activity he’d been doing, he had to trade labor and time for new shirts and pants that would fit him. And on nights when he ate like this, you swore you could hear the seams praying to their polyester gods for mercy.
“You know exactly what I mean.”
“Coulda fooled me!”, he snapped, louder than he meant. “Seems to do the trick and make you whine and mewl like a beaten dog almost every night!”
You felt your face get hot as a few heads in the dining hall turned towards you. He sighed and his eyes softened as he saw your face fall a bit. But you held firm, pulling your mouth into a scowl.
“Not every night, nowhere near it. And I’m the one doing the work. I’m the one fuckin’ you!”, you hissed.
Before giving him a chance to say anything else, you quickly turned and went back into the kitchen.
*****
After storming out of the dining hall, you’d spent the rest of your shift cleaning the entire kitchen, probably to a degree it hadn’t been since its installation. You’d scrubbed and polished every surface with enough fury in your eyes that no one dared step in. It wasn’t until you heard the jukebox turn off and see the lights in the dining hall dim that you realized you’d been at this for a few hours.
As you leaned back against the counter, head down and thinking over how your and Joel’s interaction had escalated like that, you heard a small voice say your name. You looked up and saw Sally, one of the other kitchen attendants.
“Sorry - don’t mean to interrupt, but I’m tryin’ to close up and Joel won’t leave. Says he’s not leavin’ without’cha.”
You scoffed out a ‘for fuck’s sake’ then walked to the swinging doors, only to see Joel, still seated where he was before, leaning back in his chair and picking his teeth with a toothpick. His eyes met yours, and you knew just from the look he was giving, he had a lot more to say.
“Joel, go home. Need to close up and can’t if you’re here.”
He looked behind you at Sally and gave her a small wave. “I’ll help her close up, Sally. You run on home. We got this.”
“Joel!”, you hissed.
“Go on now, Sally.”
His tone left little room for Sally to argue, and she muttered a ‘good night’ as she passed by you then Joel as head made her way out the door. You sighed, clenching your jaw, feeling the frustration and anger that you’d just weeded down in your cleaning frenzy begin to rise again. Joel watched Sally leave, then turned back to you, smug look on his face, made all the smugger as he noted your irritation.
“Darlin’, cut that shit out and come’ere.”, he crooned with a small grin, hilding his hand out to you.
You glared at him, not moving from your position.
He kept his hand out and raised his eyebrows and let out a huff. “Don’t make this old man beg, baby…”
“I think this old man has a lot more ground to cover than just beggin’.”, you responded cooly, crossing your arms across your chest. Before Joel could answer, you turned and went back to the kitchen to finish your duties.
You figured there was a 50 / 50 chance of Joel following you in, so as the door swung open and his heavy footsteps lumbered towards you, you knew he was at least picking up slightly on the passive aggressive breadcrumbs you’d dropped. You kept your back to him, drying cutlery and putting them into their respective bins.
“Darlin’…”
Joel’s voice was set low in a growl, leaving you unable to tell whether he was angry or aroused. You jumped as his hand grazed your lower back and settled on your waist, giving you a small squeeze.
“You wan’me to beg?”, he huskily growled into the back of your neck as he pressed a kiss to your skin.
“I gotta finish closin’ up, Joel.”, you stated, keeping your voice as even and unaffected as you could muster.
Joel let out a frustrated sigh-turned-grunt and let you go, stepping back. He leaned back against the wooden shelf behind him, the wood creaking in objection to his weight.
“Fuck, you’re being-“, he started, before letting out a huff. “What has gotten into you?”
Turning around, you were met with something you didn’t anticipate – a dark, sullen, glaring Joel, eyes burning into you.
“Joel-“, you groaned, before he cut you off.
“Don’t fuckin’ Joel me.”, he snapped. “You got a lot of fuckin’ nerve. You know what you said in front of the people eatin’ their food out there? You said I wasn’t fuckin’ you right. And then, I sit here like a goddamned fool, waitin’ for you to finish so we can talk, and you turn your back on me.”
“Joel, I need t-“
“Shut up! I ain’t done talkin’!”
You close your mouth and swallow hard. While you’d seen him get mad before, Joel had never directed it towards you before, and lord almighty, it sucked.
“You think I’m a fuckin’ mind reader? Think I’m gonna know you’re not happy?”, he asked, sounding loud and desperate, as he stood up and stalked towards you.
As he looked down at you, realization of how much bigger he was, in height and weight, came over you.
“I have said someth-“, you tried to argue, but his large hand grabbing yours and tugging you against him stopped you.
“Don’t interrupt me!”, he barked. “You aint said shit! And now you – fuck! No. You know what? Ain’t worth it!”
His eyes glowered down into yours and you in turn felt your eyes begin to sting with tears at the loss of contact. This was the most emotionally charged you’d seen Joel, and you wanted that same energy and passion when he fucked you, not use it to berate you for needing him to give you the same time and attention he showered on the food you cooked for the whole community. You could feel your face getting hot from the anger that was boiling in you over how overlooked you felt, even if it wasn’t entirely true. You were in a heated, frenzied spiral and reason and rationale had abandoned you.
Before you could snap back and tell him how worth it you actually were, Joel’s eyes softened; he let out a deep breath and let go of your arm and stepped back.
“I’ll… I’ll see you at home.”, Joel muttered before he turned and walked out of the kitchen.
You stood silently and watched him leave, feeling your heart break and immolate in your rib cage and hot tears fall down your face. It hit you hard just how hurt you both were.
*****
The house was dark when you walked in the front door. Joel had left no lights on, and you knew Ellie would be at Dina’s house for the night. The only hint you had to deduce that Joel was in fact home was the dim light you saw through his bedroom window as you approached the house. You hung your coat and tucked your boots on the shelf before quietly ascending the stairs to go to your room.
As you tiptoed in the hallways, you passed Joel’s bedroom door and heard him moving around his room. You could see his shadow from the light slipping under his doorway and felt your stomach curdle and sour, your mind jumping to rash conclusions about what he could be doing in there.
Was he packing to move out and get away from you?
Was he trying to clean up to remove your smell?
Was he collecting your things that you’d left in his room so he could hand them to you and tell you to get out?
As the thoughts rippled through your brain, you knew Joel was more methodical than that. He wouldn’t just leave or make you leave like that… would he?
You stepped forward, forgetting about that floorboard. The creak that sang out made both you and Joel’s shadow stop. You kept still for a moment, but the shadow didn’t move either. You were suddenly thrust back into your childhood; the times you were trying to sneak down into the kitchen to grab a snack or watch a blue movie on cable television without your parents catching you.
That fucking floorboard.
The shadow moved slightly, signaling Joel was getting closer to the door, and you moved quickly to your room, no longer caring how much noise you made. As you reached to grab your door handle, you heard Joel’s door pull open.
“Darlin’?”
Your hand clasped the knob, and you closed your eyes, hearing his voice.
“Yeah, Joel?”
You were surprised how soft and calm your voice sounded; it was a stark contrast to the overwhelming, post-anger, anxiety-ridden mess that was your mind.
“Turn around and look at me, Baby.”
“M’tired, Joel… Just gonna go to bed and – “
“I said turn around.”
It wasn’t a request. His tone was gentle, but you could feel it in your bones that this was a command - a soft one, but a command none the less. Your skin prickled in a wave of goosebumps, up your body, culminating at the base of your neck.
Joel must have been able to see the effect he had on you, because the voice he used to speak almost melted the flesh from your bones.
“Darlin’, you’re gonna turn around and look at me. Now.”
You turned around and looked at him. His broad and hefty silhouette stood ominously in his doorway, backlit by the soft glow from his bedroom.
“You comin’ to bed?”, Joel said quietly, but there was an edge to his tone that made your skin once again pebble.
You narrowed your eyes and tilted your head at his question, then shook your head subtly.
“No, Joel. I figured we’d take the night an-“
“And what?”, he snapped, stepping out into the hallway and towards you.
When you didn’t answer, he took another few steps and growled in a lower tone, “And what?!”
Your eyes went wide as he got closer, and your fight or flight kicked in. Taking a step back, you hit your bedroom door, and stumbled through your words. “I… I-I thought… I figured that you’d wanna-“
“That I’d wanna what?”, he snarled, stepping close and his full belly pressed you further into your door.
“Th-that you’d… you’d wanna be… alone to-tonight…”
Joel’s hand came up and he grabbed your chin, forcing your face square to his. “And why d’you think that?”
“Because… because we fought-“
“And you think that gives you the right to not sleep in my bed?”
You were stunned; you had no answer for him, and you also hadn’t ever been this turned on by him with out him already being knuckle deep in your pussy. You swallowed hard and stared back at him. This was a feeling you couldn’t place; it felt like you were slipping under a spell that Joel was casting.
The only response you could finally give was a headshake, and Joel returned it with a curt nod and slight grin.
“Good girl.”, he purred and released your chin.
You followed Joel back into his room, and stood awkwardly as he closed the door. You’d been in his room countless times, and you’d never felt this out of place. You jumped when he put his hands on your hips from behind and pulled you back, the curve of your spine being the perfect angle for his heavy belly to fit against.
“You feel like I’m not takin’ care of you, Darlin’?”, he huskily mewled into your ear before nipping it.
“Joel, I’m sor-“
“Stop.”, he said, abruptly stopping you from finishing your apology.
“We’re past that, Darlin’. Both said things we needed to say, even if we said’em not so nicely.”
You could hear the small smile in his voice and couldn’t help the one that tugged at your mouth slightly. A whisper soft sound came out of you with a sigh.
But then his tone dipped down, and as he rasped into your ear; one of his hands on your hip slipped to your front as he cupped your denim clad mound.
“You got my attention, baby. You feelin’ needy?”
Your mouth opened, and our flew a feather-light choked whimper. He gripped you roughly and pulled you snug against him, enough so that you could feel his thick and hard cock press against your ass.
“That why you had an attitude with me today? Needed me to fuck you? Fix that ache in your needy pussy?”
You breathed his name out as your brows furrowed and your eyes clenches closed. “Joel…” Your hand snapped on top of his over your crotch, forcing him to apply more pressure and squeeze.
“Need me to remind you that you’re mine?”, he growled before biting the crux of your neck and shoulder.
You nodded, breathing rapidly, then you let out a squeal as he shook your hand off his, then turned and shoved you against the wall. He got close and his hands made quick work in opening and shoving down your jeans. His eyes snapped up to yours and his hand dove between your legs.
“Fuck, baby…”, he sighed, eyes rolling back as he felt how wet you were. “My poor girl’s floodin’ the basement and it’s’all my fault.”
You grabbed his wrist, stabilizing yourself, and let whining pants out with each breath as his middle finger began to dip in an out of your hole. The tip of his thumb gently circled you’re aching clit.
“Yeah… I know I been neglectin’ you, baby girl… but not ‘cause of nothin’ you did… no, baby… you’re just keepin’ me too well fed and I’m fit to be tied by the time we get home… if I could fuck you the way you deserve every night…”
“Oh fuck… Joel, I need y –“
“But you always lettin’ me get away with being lazy an’watchin’ your perfect tits bounce while you fuck this fat old man…”, he rasped, his lids heavy as he watched your face contort in need. “Jesus, Darlin’, you got e’ry right to be cross with me…”
As much as you loved his voice, you needed more. Fisting his shirt, you pulled his face to yours and sucked him into a desperate and messy kiss, teeth and tongues colliding, and it was sharp and splitting. You didn’t need gentle – you needed him.
He finally pulled back, breathing heavily, same as you, and a grin tugged at his parted lips.
“Oh, Darlin’…”, he cooed, finger and thumb still working your cunt in tandem. He leaned in, ghosting his mouth over yours and asked in a voice so soft, you could have cried. “I need you to know how bad you got me, baby… tell me what I can do to prove it.”
Emboldened by his lust-blown eyes with heavy lids looking at you desperately, you put your hand on his shoulder and gave him a gentle push down. A smile pulled at one side of his mouth, instantly understanding your silent request. He stepped back and groaned as he lowered himself down, joints cracking as he got on one knee, and he looked up as he pulled your jeans down further then helped you step out, one leg at a time. As he de-robed your second leg, he lifted it over his shoulder, and he scooted forward, and your eyes stayed trained on him, catching every detail, every twitch of his face as he breathed huskily and inhaled your scent. You watched his eyes flutter and roll back, like you were a buffet of fine cuisine, and he was a starved man. He pressed his nose in your crux and nudged in further, panting and swearing under his breath as he let your aroma and essence envelope him.
He took his time, as if he was making sure to catch every flavour, every note of your taste and smell, almost punishing himself for allowing you to feel unappreciated. His hands reached behind and pulled your hips forward into his face and you whimpered out a gasp as your shoulders planted against the wall behind you being the only thing keeping you upright.
“Joel…”, you breathed out, swallowing, trying to alleviate the dry mouth your open mouth breathing had caused. “Joel, please…”
He groaned into your warmth and opened his mouth, finally letting himself have a taste. His tongue licked out between your folds, starting slowly, but began to increase in intensity as he realized this was his favourite thing to savour. He grunted and panted as he lapped at you, his grip that held you so firmly to his face hurting you in the absolute best way possible.
Your fingers pulled his hair, aiding in keeping your core tightly affixed to his gaping maw, and you rocked your hip, mewling and crying out, begging him for more. Joel was in no position to deny you want you needed, not only because of the iron-clad connection currently created by both of your individual efforts, but he was eating his favourite thing. He’d denied you both for so long, he would happily suffocate between your thighs before ever taking a proper breath again if it paid the price of his sin. The noises he made as he ate and licked and devoured you sounded obscene - he sounded like a starved and feral dog, gnawing at a cut of meat tossed to him out of pity. You’re sure that if you saw his eyes, they’d be a black abyss like a shark’s as it bit down on its next meal.
The sounds he was ripping and peeling out of you were music to his ears, championing him further, pushing him harder to make you give him more of those delicious noises. He was rocking his hips in time with his mouth and tongue, letting his throbbing cock rut against the inside of his jean’s rough zipper. Between that, your taste and your fingers pulling his scalp taught with hair, he was in pure ecstasy.
He brought his hand attached to the shoulder your leg was propped up on and pushed two thick fingers into your core and began to pump them in and out - again, in time with his own hips’ rhythm. The white-hot burning coil that Joel had been slowly winding with his mouth finally sprung loose and snapped. You arched your back, silently screaming out as your body went rigid, and vaguely heard Joel growl. He continued to suck hard on your twitching and swollen clit and punched his fingers up into you as your rode out your orgasm. You heard liquid hitting the wood floor before you heard Joel let out a series of high-pitched groans.
His fingers slowed and his mouth was panting hot, quick breaths on your aching core. You looked down at him, chest heaving, to see him shakily pull his fingers from you and shove them in his mouth. Joel was a beautiful and carnal sight: breathing hard in grunts as he sucked his fingers clean. The act looked primitive, like he’d accessed his baser instincts, and he was satisfying a basic human need, a millennia in the making.
“Joel.”, you croaked, and he looked up at you with blurred eyes that slowly began to focus. He slowly pulled himself up, heaving his heavy belly. You helped him come back to his fully height and he leaned into you, pressing his forehead to yours. You could smell yourself on him as he kissed you softly before resuming your connection through foreheads.
“That was…”
“Yeah… fuck yeah… taste so good.”
“I wanna return the fav-“
Your hand cupped what you thought would be his hard cock, but stopped when you felt him softening and his jeans were warm and damp. You pulled your head back and looked at him, prompting a huffed laugh from Joel, pink flushing up his neck to his cheeks.
“You’re my favourite meal, Darlin’. You got me hooked.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, baby.”
He pulled you away from the wall and onto the bed. He laid back and groaned as his spine relaxed. His full belly domed above him, moving gently up and down with each breath and you sat up, giving it a rub.
“You ate well tonight…”, you cooed, unbuckling his belt and opening his jean to access the mess he made.
He chuckled, supporting his head on an arm as he watched you with a grin. “Couldn’t help it… you serve food too good to not destroy myself on it, Darlin’.”
You shot him a look as you peeled back his damp and sticky underwear.
“Like I said, Darlin’… you serve up a good meal.”
beef's glossary: The term "blue movie" is an old-fashioned slang term used to describe pornographic films, usually of the low budget variety.
TAGLIST: @theywhowriteandknowthings @harryleatherfit @toxicanonymity @harriedandharassed @neverwheremoonchild @rebel-held @beee-haw @nevergoingbacknowshine @idolatrybarbie @v4vayha @lalocitos @xdaddysprincessxx @deathsholywaterr @heareball @lyssramscal @wintrwinchestr @nerdieforpedro @southernbe @starkeydaviss @noxturnalpascal @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog@vabeachazn @clawdee @iamasaddie @tightjeansjavi@rubyfruitjungle@lilmizmoz @strang3lov3
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fanfiction#chubby!joel miller#chubby!joel#joel miller x you#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x reader#chubby joe#chubby pedro rights !!!#chubby pedro pascal#fat belly#pedro pascal tummy nation#beefro's bistro#beefro is sweating#you asked beefro answered#🥩
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He's just being Joel.🤷
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P E D R O P A S C A L
O N L Y
__ FIC REQUEST OPEN __
SERIES
(Banners are here)
🔥NEW MEXICO(PART IX)- Pedro asks you to spend his birthday together with you. You just go.
W I N N E R(PART VIII) - You couldn’t attend SAG awards but Pedro meets you late in the night to celebrate.
O U C H (PART VII) - You are at the Golden Globes and meet Pedro over there, he didn’t win unfortunately but still, he is a winner in bed.
B O A T (PART VI) - Today is your last day in Malta. Pedro will be back to work, and you also need to return to your routine. Pedro wants your last day to be wonderful, nothing like a surprise with a perfect end. The three most intense days of your life.
COME FIND ME (PART V) - Pedro promised you a weekend, but an unforeseen event changes everything. Maybe he's a fan of surprises, maybe he can find you.
72 HOURS WITH HIM (PART IV) - The shooting in Malta keeps going, all Pedro needs is a weekend off, well…he got it. Would you go meet him for only three days? Hmmm yes!
PEDRO SOLO (PART III) - The days are long and exhausting, Pedro has a huge hotel room, hot tub ... But he is missing something, could you help him?
LOSING GAME (PART II) - You meet Pedro again not just to take back your panties. He wants to play a game, who’s going to lose?
HIGH MILES CLUB (PART I) - After partying hard at Met Gala making out with you in the bathroom and later taking you to his hotel room in NY, he finds something inside his red overcoat pocket in the middle of the airport. But it doesn’t stop, more unexpected and hot things happens during his flight back home.
ONE SHOT
(Banners are here)
MASTERCHEF FAIL - With a busy schedule, Pedro finds some time to spend with you. You promised him to cook his favorite food. Maybe things get out of hand and dessert comes before dinner.
PURPLE IS THE HOTTEST COLOR - After having a difficult day, Pedro meets you, no patience, no time for conversations.Pedro only has one desire in mind: you here and now, no matter if anyone will see you.
————————————————
PEDRO I M A G I N E
It’s 3 in the morning…
Hey, I’m looking at you…
What a smile…
🔥 You wearing his purple shirt…
————————————————
Who are Santa Trindade
Gringa is on her late 30’s totally addicted to Pascal for the latest years (she doesn’t know what happened) although she’s following his work since 2019 because she is a Star Wars nerd and fell in love with a mandalorian 🤷🏻♀️. Her favorite Pedro boy is Javi Gutierrez because he is chubby and funny (Pedro vibes almost 100%).
What makes her wet is when Pedro: slide his finger on his lips while giggling.
Good vibes: if she had a date with Pedro she thinks she wouldn’t be able to walk the next day 🥲
——
@missyorkswhore is on her late 20’s and noticed Pedro when her uncle was watching Narcos, she saw Javier and asked him “wow, who’s that stach guy?”. A couple years later she finally got into Narcos and you know…she still want to marry Peña.
She loves when Pedro raises his eyebrow, and when he speaks Spanish [she thinks she can get wet in a fraction of seconds if he speaks like that to her in bed] ah and of course when he screams WHAT TOWN!!! as Joel.
Fave character obviously: DAVE FUCKING YORK (killer king)
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal x f!reader#frankie catfish morales#frankie morales#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal imagine#pedrohub#joel miller x reader#dieter bravo#joel miller#dave york x reader#dieter bravo x reader#jose pedro balmaceda pascal#dave york#pedro pascal character fanfic#pedropascaledit#oberyn martell#pedro pascal x you
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Can I request a Joel fic? Maybe Tommy makes a flirty comments towards the reader which leads to Joel becoming jealous ? & touchy with the reader? Can it also be a smut if possible I appreciate it !! Your fics are amazing
Darlin'
Warnings: Unwanted flirting, possessive bf (kinda), sleazy Tommy
A/N: I was going to add smut but as I kept writing I couldn't figure out where to put it so I'm sorry. This turned out way different from what you asked for so prepare to be disappointed 😭
A cool breeze grazes the back of your calves as you wait outside of Joel’s door. Your flowy yellow sundress was a new purchase for the spring season. Joel had made a passing comment about yellow being your color, so you thought wearing a yellow dress to meet his family would make a good first impression. The neckline of your dress dips ever so slightly, just barely showing your cleavage. You knew the dress was a little teasing, but it’s not too risque for meeting your boyfriend’s daughter. Cicadas hum around you as the sun sinks lower in the sky. You think about knocking on the door one more time, but it swings open before you can open the screen door. Joel stands in front of you in a casual shirt and his work jeans.
“I feel a little overdressed,” you say shyly, looking over your outfit. Suddenly you wish you had gone with your first choice, a graphic tee and shorts.
“No, you look beautiful sweetheart,” Joel assures. His eyes can’t help but scan your body, lingering on your chest for an extra moment, before he ushers you inside.
It wasn’t the first time you’d been to his house, just the first time you had been there at night. The house looks homey and warm, laughter radiating from the kitchen. It was almost like another house compared to the quiet house you were used to visiting. You stand awkwardly in the hallway second guessing every decision you had made that day. Is my hair too frizzy? Is there lipstick on my teeth? Is my dress too showy? You’re dragged out of your thoughts by Joel’s calloused hands on your shoulders, gently guiding you to the kitchen. You round the corner to see a young girl and a man. You can tell that the girl is Sarah based on the photos you've seen, but you didn’t know the man. Joel quickly introduces you before they make their introductions.
“Hi, I’m Sarah,” Sarah says with a wave.
“And I’m Tommy, Joel’s younger brother,” Tommy says, shaking your hand. His hand holds yours for just a bit too long, but he lets go before it gets too awkward. “Joel, how’d you manage to get a girl this gorgeous?”
Joel ignores Tommy’s question. You sit down in a chair next to Sarah, leaving a chair next to you for Joel. Your boyfriend heads to the stove to prepare plates for everyone. Based on the smell, fried chicken is on the menu. You try to look over to the counter to get a better look, but Joel’s large frame obstructs the food from your view.
“Don’t worry,” Sarah whispers, “I helped make it, so we won’t get salmonella.”
“God knows you’re not helpful when it comes to eggs Sarah,” Joel responds from over his shoulder.
“It was one time!” You can’t help but laugh at Joel and Sarah’s dynamic.
“So what do you do for a livin’ darlin’?” Tommy asks. You turn to face him so you can answer his question, but see that he’s sitting in the seat you had saved for Joel. His brown eyes bore into yours with a strange intensity.
“Oh um, I’m a teacher. I’ve been teaching third grade for about four years now,” you say, slightly scooting your chair away from him.
Joel calls Sarah to the stove to help bring the plates over. The food looks amazing as the plate lands in front of you. Crispy fried chicken, mashed potatoes with potato skins mixed in and gravy drizzled on top, and some seasoned peas made you practically drool onto your plate.
“Damn Joel, this looks amazing,” you say in awe of your boyfriend. You would have never guessed he was a talented chef. “Thank you too Sarah,” you say, remembering she helped.
“You’re welcome,” Sarah smiles.
Sarah sits down next to you, quickly chowing down on her food. Joel comes to the table with his plate, but notices Tommy has taken the spot next to you. You almost think about saying something but Joel just sits across from you without saying a word. There’s an awkward moment of silence as everyone takes bites of their which is broken by Sarah.
“Do you like Destiny’s Child?” she asked with her mouth stuffed with potatoes.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Joel scolds. Sarah smiles at him, showing off all the food in her mouth. Tommy chuckles and Joel groans in response.
“Yeah I like Destiny’s Child. Do you have a favorite member?
“Obviously Beyonce!”
“Really? I like Kelly more.”
Sarah gasps and looks at Joel. “Dad, you have to break up with her. There’s no way we can get along now!”
“If one of you is hittin’ the curb tonight, it’s gonna be you,” Joel says, pointing his fork at Sarah. You laugh along with Tommy at Joel’s teasing. All the nerves you had built up dissipate from your mind.
“They’re always like this and it never gets less annoying,” Tommy whispers. He leans closer to you and puts a hand on the back of your chair as he continues. “So, how did you and my brother end up datin’ anyways? Big brute like him ain’t much of a talker…or a looker.”
“What was that Tommy?” Joel asks.
“Nothin’, I was just makin’ conversation. How did you guys meet?”
You and Joel both look at each other momentarily. The truth is that you hooked up through a dating site, but admitting that in front of a person you barely knew and a kid would be beyond embarrassing. You two had never discussed a fake scenario, so you’re both stuck looking like fish with their mouths hanging open.
“Uh…we…um,” Joel begins. His ears turn red as he remembers the real way you two met.
“We met at a…,” you try to think.
“Gas station, we met at a gas station. The Texaco just up the street,” Joel vaguely gestures to the right with his fork. Texaco was the other way. You try your best to quickly think of a meet cute.
“Yeah, I was short on change, so he bought my gas for me.”
“Is that so?” Tommy says, skeptically.
“Mhm,” Joel squeaks out. “We kept running into each other after that and eventually I asked her out.”
Sarah eyes the both of you, her bullshit detector is no doubt going off, but she chooses not to say anything other than, “The perfect rom-com meeting.”
“Ha, yeah totally,” you say nervously.
“Well Joel, I’m impressed. I didn’t think you could manage to get not one but two gorgeous women to date you,” Tommy laughs. His hand moves from the back of your chair to your shoulder. His thumb swipes over your shoulder and you want to recoil away, but sit still to not cause a scene.
Joel’s demeanor changes in a split second at the mention of Sarah’s mother and the site of Tommy caressing you. His once relaxed shoulders tense up and his eyes fill with anger.
"Tommy," Joel says, his eyes piercing into Tommy. "Get out!"
Sarah stops eating and watches her dad. The room is silent from a moment, no one daring to make a noise in fear of Joel snapping at them.
"What? I didn't even do anything!" Tommy breaks the silence.
"You heard me. Get. Out."
Tommy stands up from the table in exasperation, knocking over a glass in the process. He gives Joel a last glance before heading towards the door. The door slams and a stillness comes over the house. The only sound you can hear is blood rushing through your ears as your heart pounds in your chest. You barely notice Joel guiding you out of your seat and taking you outside. His hand wraps around yours, his thumb gently swiping over your skin.
“I’m sorry about my brother. He’s never been like that before,” Joel mumbles, walking you back to your house.
“It’s okay. This surprisingly isn’t the worst thing that’s happened when it comes to meeting my boyfriend’s families,” you laugh, trying to ease the tension.
“I can’t imagine anythin’ worse than this.”
“A fire started and half the house burned down.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah, it was a very eventful Thanksgiving to say the least.”
The street lights barely illuminate your house at the end of the cul-de-cac. It’s smaller than all the others and looks out of place with all the uniformed homes. You stop in front of it and turn to Joel.
“Maybe we could start over. You guys can come to my place this time and you can even bring Tommy if he promises to keep his hands to himself.”
“I’d like that, but I doubt Tommy’ll be comin’.”
All my writing ability left the building once I got to the end of this piece.
******
Taglist:
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@aiyaaayei
@vipersecret-blog
@kelly-fushiguro345
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Pumpkin: Pedro Pascal x female reader
You and Pedro try to help your daughter find a Halloween costume.
WARNINGS: none just plain fluff and trying to help your daughter find a Halloween costume.
"Okay. 1, 2, 3, … come show daddy!"
Your 3-year-old, Lyla, comes barreling from around the corner, in her miniature pumpkin costume. She stops in front of where Pedro is seated on the couch, twirling around to hear his approval.
It was only October 3rd, but Halloween has always been a massive deal in the household, even more so with the arrival of your eldest daughter.
What once consisted of cheesy couple costumes and going out with friends has turned into cheesy family costumes and trick-or-treating.
You personally were beyond excited for this year, seeing how Lyla was finally old enough to understand how Halloween works.
Your husband finally uncovers his eyes and coos at the sight of his daughter.
He leans down to pick her up, both laughing from the happiness of being in each other's presence. It was no secret to anyone that Lyla was a huge Daddy's girl,
only wanting to be around her father from the minute she was born. It was no different on Pedro's side, having wrapped him around her chubby, miniature finger the moment he looked into her wide, hazel eyes.
The two are inseparable, and while jealousy might creep in from time to time, you're still undeniably grateful that Pedro is as overwhelmingly devoted to Lyla as he is.
“You two are so cute!" You melt, watching the two mess around.
"So cute, Mommy!" Lyla confirms, giggling at the raspberries Pedro is blowing onto her cheeks. Pedro reaches out for your waist, pulling you to join them on the couch.
"What do you think, Lyla? Do you like this one?" You ask, watching as she tilts her head in thought. She's always been annoyingly independent for her age, so this year,
you allowed her full control of picking her costume. You bought a ton and figured you could always just return the rejects. So far, she's on costume 6 out of 10, and you're just praying she makes a decision soon, so you don't have to make another trip to the Halloween store. Unfortunately, she shakes her head no and hops out of both your laps.
"Why not, bug? I thought you wanted to be a pumpkin like Charlie Brown." Pedro asks gently, hoping to sway his daughter into making a decision. He had given up his Saturday to watch his daughter play dress up, and while there wasn't much that he wouldn't do for Lyla, he was more than ready to move on with the day.
"No, Daddy. I want to be a ghost-like Charlie Brown." Lyla corrects, rolling her eyes like she couldn't believe her father's mistake. Pedro swears she picked up that habit from you.
"But you didn't like the ghost costume either," Pedro whines, growing frustrated with the toddler's indecisiveness. He loves his daughter endlessly, but three hours of costume-picking is enough to irritate anyone.
"Okay, Lyla. Why don't you go to your room and put on the next costume? It's the Tiana one, remember!" You suggest softly. Lyla perks up at the mention of her favorite princess and runs back into her room, leaving you and Pedro alone. You settle into his side, twisting his wedding band out of habit.
"You know she gets that from you, right?" He says. You snort, turning to look at him.
"That's funny because she's your shadow. If anything, she's all you." He laughs at your response, pulling you so you're even closer to him. You both look at each other for a moment, before he lets out a breath of air.
"Is it crazy that I want another one?" He asks softly. You pause, not saying anything to interrupt wherever your husband's mind is headed. "Like, I love the three of us, but what if we could do it again? You know the diapers, the first words, first steps, arguing with them over their own Halloween costume?" He gestures around him at that.
Your heart swells. Admittedly, you had been thinking about having another baby now that Lyla is starting to get older. You've started missing having a newborn in the house but were unsure how to bring it up to your husband, worried that he might reject you. However, you should've suspected that Pedro "I want a football team of children" would be itching to have another kid soon.
"Do you really want this?" You ask, making sure this isn't a whim before you tell him what you think.
"Well, I mean, really, it's up to you. But yeah, it would be nice to have another mini-running around here. Plus, Lyla would love to have a friend." He offers, already placing his hand over your stomach.
"I have always wanted a boy." You must, already picture future siblings and matching Halloween costumes. Pedro brightens at this, pulling you into a hug with small tears forming in his eyes. He pulls away to slightly wipe his eyes before he hears the tiny pitter-patter of feet coming down the hallway.
"What's wrong, daddy?" Lyla questions, concern written all over her tiny face from seeing her father's tears. She walks towards Pedro in a green, sparkly dress with a plush frog under her arms, reaching up for him to pull her into his lap.
"Nothing bug, just happy I have everything I've ever wanted." He admits, pulling Lyla up to join your two's huddle. And with the two loves of your life in your arms, you agree.
#fanfic#character x reader#oneshot#multi fandom blog#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal fluff#pedro pascal fic
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I'll stay with you... ( bc I love you) JavierPeñaxchubby!f!reader
A/N: Ok, I know I said this part is the last one...
And theoretically it is. If you chose non-pregnancy options. If you have chosen to be pregnant then this is the last part.
I've been having a rough day lately and I really needed something brighter. And I really believe after season three, Javier has matured and changed, so here it is: Javier as a dad.
Summary: Five years ago, you left Javier at an American airport. You refused to return to Colombia and hide pregnancy from him. Now your daughter is 4.5 years old and unexpectedly bumps into her papi.
Warnings: angst, fluff, smut, mentions of past trauma, oral sex but just a little.
*
Your daughter ran in front of you and jumped merrily. This child had boundless energy.
Guess after who?
Certainly not after you. You were tired of shopping and wanted to go home. But Mirabel begged you to take her out for ice cream.You couldn't resist the brown puppy eyes she inherited from her father.
In fact, she looked a lot like Javier. She had the same hair color, the same chin shape, same cheekbones.
God, she even laughed the same.
Only the nose and mouth she inherited from you.
You loved her. From the first moment you saw her. Not because she was Javier's daughter. Because, she was your child. And it wasn't always easy. Sometimes you missed the help of the other person when you got up in the night, but ... You weren't deceiving yourself. Even if you stayed with Javier, he'd rather go hookers than get up at night to calm down a crying baby. That's why you didn't regret anything. Well, maybe just once. When Mirabel came home from kindergarten and she crying and asked why other children had daddies and she didn't?
She was too young for to tell her the truth. So you said that her papi catches very bad people, very far away and you can't disturb him.
Fortunately, it was enough for her and she was happy again.
*
Javier was walking towards his favorite cafe when his heart stopped. Did he really see you? So many times he thought about finding you. So many times he wanted to tell you that he had changed, that he had dropped everything. Many times. But he always thought you were right to leave him. It took him a while, but he finally realized how badly he treated you. He had no right to hurt you, betray you, order you around. He didn't deserve you. And yet fate has put you in his way again. You were even more beautiful than he remembered. He barely noticed the child running in front of you. He only woke up when he saw the fear in your eyes and heard your scream:
"Mirabel!"
He rushed forward to save her.
*
You lost your head when you saw Javier walking towards you. You just stood there forgetting that your daughter was running in front of you. It has practically not changed. He was still damn handsome.
And suddenly a cyclist rode past you at high speed. Like in slow motion you saw him driving straight at your child. You were too far away to save her. Fortunately, Javier showed the reflexes acquired from years of chasing the sicario. He managed to grab the girl in his arms and jump aside.
Javier smiled at the baby in his arms.
"Are you all right, Pumpkin?"
The little one shook her head and laughed, and he had a strange feeling that he knew the sound. By this time you had already run up to them and started to look at her. She was fine. And of course she was laughing. Why not? You placed one hand on Javier's chest and began to breathe heavily. You didn't even notice you were doing it. It was instinct.
"Y/N are you okay? She's fine, really."
Mirabel looked at him in surprise.
"Do you know my mommy?"
Javier nodded and carefully set the baby down. He was still looking at you worriedly.
"Y/N, you're pale."
"I'm fine, Javier."
Your daughter picked up on his name right away.
" Jav, will you go out for ice cream with us?"
You really loved your daughter but sometimes you hated her openness to other people. Javier patted her head and replied:
"Sure Sweetpea! "
You didn't know if he agreed because he was curious about meeting you or he really worried about you.
*
Half an hour later, you watched your daughter sitting on the swing eating ice cream. Javier sat next to you on the bench and watched you closely.
"Thank you for saving her," you finally said when you were sure your voice wouldn't shake.
"It's okay. I feel it's my fault anyway. If you hadn't seen me, this wouldn't have happened."
"We don't know that. Fortunately, nothing happened. She didn't even understand how dangerous it was. She'll probably talk about it all as if it was a great adventure."
Javier really didn't want to be nosy but curiosity was eating him up. He sensed the perfect moment to ask the question that was bothering him. Did you have a husband?
"I'm sure her dad won't be happy when she tells him what happened today."
"We live alone" you said without even looking at him.
"Oh... So her father was an asshole who left you?"
You almost laughed. Javier obviously hasn't put all the facts together yet.
"Actually, I left that asshole at the airport. I figured he had more important things to do."
And then it clicked. Javier looked at Mirabel, then at you, then at the little girl again. Yeah! Age, looks and that laugh!
"That's mine daughter?"
You winced at that one specific word.
"I don't like the word "mine""
To your surprise, Javier immediately corrected himself.
"I'm her father?"
" Yes, Javier, but your part in it was very small. "
"I guess. You handled everything on your own. In fact, I shouldn't be surprised. You've always been strong."
You could hear the genuine admiration in his voice and you finally looked at him. He really looked different somehow. Like he hasn't changed. That handsome hot guy was still sitting next to you. Yet he seemed calmer, more composed, and more mature.
"What happened with you?" you asked.
"I was chasing the Cali cartel. As usual, I made a few mistakes... People died... And something finally snapped inside me. I retired. I lived with my father for a while and recently moved here. What about you?"
"I moved closer to my cousin during my pregnancy. She and her parents were very supportive. I moved here two years ago. I found a job, bought a house, and Mirabel went to kindergarten."
Javier looked at the baby again, and you saw delight fill his eyes.
"She is wonderful. I would like to get to know her better." He looked at you sadly. "Someday, if you let me..."
You felt a pang of guilt. There was a time when Javier treated you like a princess. He protected you and cared about you. He didn't deserve such suffering.
"You can drive us home."
You've never seen Javier so happy. Of course, like him, your daughter was also in heaven. You weren't even surprised when Mirabel grabbed Javier's hand and dragged him into the house to show him her bunny. You weren't surprised that she was sitting on his lap and enthusiastically telling him how to take care of Thumper. Although the truth was, you were the one taking care of that damn pet.
What really surprised you was Javier's behavior.
You never thought he would be so good with children. He was patient, gentle, and made Mirabel laugh. It was hard to believe that they had only known each other for a few hours. That's why you let him stay and read her a bedtime story. You promised yourself that as soon as Mirabel fell asleep you would tell him to disappear but Javier was standing in the doorway of the children's room and staring at the sleeping child.
"Javier, can we talk?" you whispered.
"Please give me five more minutes. I want to remember, what she looks like," he replied quietly and the despair in his voice hitting you.
"You talk as if you'll never see her again."
He finally looked at you and sighed heavily.
"And did I will see? You have power over me, Y/N. If you tell me to leave, I will. I have changed."
And you changed your mind. You couldn't just tell him to leave. You really saw that he was different. You grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the living room. You sat on the couch together.
"Do you really like that you have a daughter?"
He nodded his head and smiled slightly.
"Yes. It's just... I lost so much... Her first smile, first word, first step... First day of kindergarten."
"You are mad at me?"
"No. I'm angry but at myself." You looked at him surprised. "I know I was an asshole, Y/N. I used you and treated you like property. I never really asked what you wanted. I took everything because you gave in to me. If I had followed you at the airport then. If I had apologized for cheating... Maybe everything would look different."
"I don't think so. I think you needed time to mature."
Javier grabbed your hand.
"I want to apologize to you so much. Can I stay? If you don't want to..."
You didn't let him finish. You just jumped on him and wrapped your arms around his neck. You felt him hug you tightly and you sighed. All these years you wanted to hear that he was sorry.
"I missed you so much. You were such an asshole." You felt tears roll down your cheek. "And yet I missed you."
"I'm so sorry, cariño." You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. You had to be sure he was sincere. "You know, I have never called anyone that. I've had other women, but I couldn't say this word without imagining your face."
Javier gently wiped away your tears.
"I love you Y/N." Your heart beat harder. "I really love you. I didn't realize it until you left me."
"Well, I knew I loved you. I loved you even when I left you and... I wanted to stop, but no man could compare to you. They were kind and faithful, but none of them made me feel the way I felt around you. But you have to understand something. If you want to stay, you can never be an asshole again. No more whores, no more possessiveness, no more selfishness."
"I'm done with all this a long time ago, I swear."
You nodded your head.
"Good, because if you hurt me, I'll cut you out of my life forever. But if you hurt our daughter, I'll kill you. I'm not kidding."
"I know you're serious. Even though I only met her a few hours ago, I'd kill anyone who tried to hurt her."
You laughed and suddenly you just wanted to kiss him. And you did it. You climbed onto his lap and connected your lips in a passionate kiss. You felt his hands begin to roam your body, but he did it differently. He was less pushy than before. He was cautious, like he still wasn't sure how much you would let him?
His hands gently squeezed your thighs.
"God, I missed you so much. Your body and everything you gave me. I screwed it all up."
"You have a chance to fix it"
You got up and walked towards the bedroom, but Javier didn't move. You narrowed your eyes.
"Do you need a special invitation?"
"Are you sure?"
"Javi , I'm not a little girl. I know what I want. Come on."
He finally came over to you and cuddled up to your back.
"And Mirabel? Won't she wake up?"
"Our daughter has a very heavy sleep."
He kissed your neck and whispered:
"I like it when you say it, "our daughter""
*
When you found yourself in bed you were delighted with Javier's gentleness. Maybe you missed it a bit his old heat, but you knew there was still time for that. When his head was between your legs, you felt the old shiver. He didn't disappoint you. Within minutes he had you writhing and moaning. As you slowly came out of your orgasm, he kissed your stomach and ran his hands over your hips. When he finally kissed you lips, you could feel your juices on his tongue. He rested his forehead against yours and asked:
"You want more?"
"Are you asking if I want to feel you inside me? Who are you and what have you done with Javier? Yes, I do."
He laughed and reached for his pants, pulled out his wallet, then found a condom. You raised your eyebrows.
"I assume you don't want any more kids, just yet," he said.
"I may never want to have more."
He nodded and kissed your thigh.
"It's okay. I'll respect any decision you make."
You dug your nails into his arms as he sticked into you. You felt wonderful. You've had several men, after him, but none of them knew your body as well as Javier.
You quickly felt your second orgasm approaching.
"Javier, I..."
"Me too honey"
Later, when you hugged each other and catches breath, you felt really happy. Javier buried his nose in your hair and hugged you tightly.
"You won't smoke?" you asked.
"I quit it."
You kissed his chest. But you had to ask one more question.
"Will you be here in the morning?"
"Of course. I'll stay with you because I love you. I'll be here as long as you let me."
You snuggled closer to him and fell asleep.
*
You woke up in the morning refreshed and happy. Javier wasn't next to you, and when you looked at your watch, you became concerned. Normally, your daughter should be jumping over you, by now. You stand up quickly, and as you left the bedroom, you immediately smelled delicious smells coming from the kitchen. As you got closer, you heard your baby's laugh. You silently stood on the doorstep and your heart melted.
Javier was standing by the stove with Mirabel settled on his hip. The little girl laughed and poured pancake batter into the pan, and he praised her. Although even from a distance you were able to see that pancakes have various shapes and none of them are round.
"Chef Mirabel, should I turn the pancake?"
Your daughter tilted her head slightly. She was clearly a chef and took her position very seriously.
"Hmm... Yes!"
You couldn't help it anymore and laughed. This, of course, drew their attention to you. Javier had to be very dexterous not to drop Mirabel when she suddenly turned to you.
"Mommy, we're making pancakes!"
"Yes, I see darling."
You moved closer and kissed her cheek. You wanted to take her in your arms, but she wasn't going to let go of Javier. "As if she knew", you thought. Javier gave you a quick kiss on the lips and focused on not burning the pancake. You pulled back and watched them finish making breakfast. When the last pancake was taken out of the pan, your daughter looked at you and asked:
" Can Jav stay with us? Will he be my uncle?"
You bit your lip. Two pairs of brown puppy eyes stared at you with hopefully. You couldn't break their hearts. You made a decision.
"Actually, Javier is your papi and he will staying with us."
Your daughter's eyes widened and then she began bouncing happily in Javier's arms.
" Papi! Papi!" she screamed and covered his face with her little hands. "You don't have to catch bad people anymore?"
"No," he choked out and hugged her tightly.
Javier looked so happy, like you just gave him a star from sky. He looked at you gratefully and whispered:
"Thank you."
You knew everything would be fine. The love in his eyes made you sure of it.
And maybe even one day, you'll let him say "mine" again. If he says it again as a declaration of love and a promise to never hurt you again.
*
When I was young, before we begun
I never thought we all had someone
I took your breath but you took the rest
I promised you always a place on my chest
Sometimes the love, the love of your life
Can make you feel weak, too tired to fight
But I'm trying my best to look in your eyes
'Cause tears never age and years never die, die
But sometimes the love that you feel is just making it worse
When I'm disappointing you, we both end up hurt
So I left a note on our bathroom mirror
If you ever forget that you love me
*Isak Danielson - If You Ever Forget That You Love Me
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
#javier pena#narcos#javier pena x reader#javier pena fanfiction#chubby!reader#javier pena x you#dad and daughter#dad javier#kid fic#pedro pascal#happy ending
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