#pedro pascal character headcanon

[absurdthirst]

I know that a/b/o isn't everybody's cup of tea, but... maybe headcanons about (alpha) Pedro boys getting home from work and finding omega reader in heat? Pretty please?

Coming Home to Find You In Heat:

*** When reblogging or talking about Omegaverse, please remember that ‘a/b/o’ without the slash punctuation marks (/) is considered a slur for the Aboriginal people in Australia.

**Female Reader

Javier Peña: There isn't a day that Javier doesn't come home thinking about fucking you. It's programmed into his DNA. However, the second he hits the door, he smells it. The intoxicating scent of your pheromones filling the house. Second only to the scent of your cum on his cock as his favorite. His entire body is throbbing as he calls your name. Walking through the door to see you whimpering his name with the toy you have buzzing between your legs. "Oh 'mega." He groans, ripping off the suit jacket and tossing it aside. "Don't stop. I'll be inside you soon enough. Let me get undressed."

Ezra: He isn't even aware that you are in heat until he removes the sealed helmet from his head. You had stayed in the tent because you weren't feeling well, so Ezra had decided to dig by himself. Coming back earlier than normal so he can check on you, he had decontaminated and had just unsealed his helmet when that intoxicating aroma fills his nostrils. "Kevva." He groans, eyes darkening as you sweat and suffer. "Little gem, you should have let me know of your plight far before now." He hums as he starts to strip himself of his suit. "It my humblest undertaking as your alpha to see to your comfort during the trying times of the burden of your nature." He is practically panting already, thinking of the ways he will take you and make sure you are knotted properly. "Push two fingers inside that deprived pussy, gem. Gratify yourself until I can accommodate you suitably with my cock."

Mando: He immediately sets a course for a hospitable planet, one he knows will be safe for you and the kid. He knows that he will be get very little sleep over the next few days, making sure the kid is taken care of and out of trouble as well as taking care of you. The little sleeping nook isn't big enough for your nest, so he moves containers and crates to create a private area for you to build a nest with the blankets and padding he has on hand. As soon as he has landed, the safety protocols for the ship are engaged and he has every light turned off, plunging it into darkness so he can remove his armor and helmet. "Don't worry, cyarika." His unmodulated voice is warm as he reaches for you. "You will be crying in pleasure soon."

Frankie Morales: Heats after kids is difficult. He knows you are in pain and suffering so he calls his mom, begging her to take the kids. He has to give you a quick orgasm on his fingers before he takes them over to her, so desperate to feel your alpha that it makes him a little bigheaded. He's stopping by the pizza place to grab some food to make it easy for you as well. His weekend get together plans with the boys are cancelled, he has more important things to do, like you.

Pero Tovar: You think that this man isn't going to smell you the second he stops his horse? Think again. The smell of your need calls to him and he is rushing through bedding down his horse and stripping down to wash in the barrel next to the door. You don't like it when he tries to fuck you when he's dirty. Not that he cares. All he cares about is that his omega needs his cock. He won't even stop to eat the food you had managed to prepare before you had taken to your bed, barring the door and growling when he sees you in the bed. "Omega." He growls, knowing that he will be taking care of you until the heat has passed.

Agent Whiskey: There is nothing that Jack likes more than a needy, whiny omega, begging for his cock. Especially with it's his own omega. A trail of clothes is left through the house as he makes his way to the bedroom. Pausing at the end of the bed to watch as you try to pleasure yourself with your fingers in the middle of your bed, surrounded by the scent of your alpha, but it's not enough. His cock is already hard and leaking, his hand wrapped around it. "Sugar, you look mighty lonely in that pretty nest of yours." He coos, grinning at you. "Why don't you let your alpha take care of you and fill that needy pussy up?"

Marcus Pike: Marcus knows before he gets home. He can hear it in your voice and he keeps track of your heat cycles. He hated having to travel so close to the time, but he had hoped he would make it back in time. On the way home from the airport, he is calling for takeout to be delivered, knowing that you will need him to knot you, then you will need to eat. You forget to eat in the haze of lust unless he makes sure you do. On the drive home, he is talking to you, soothing you over the phone and talking you through using one of your toys while you are wearing his academy shirt that smells like him.

Max Phillips: This is one cocky motherfucker. An alpha and a vampire? He knew that you were going to be in heat before he ever even left on his fucking business trip. The iron levels in your blood changed. So when he hits the door, this man is already a puffed up, primed alpha. He's on you before you even know he's in the house. Groaning over your scent and burying his face in your cunt to get you ready to take him. His inhuman abilities will have your pain pushed away in no time and your sweet omega cries filling his ears.

Dave York: FERAL. This man is absolutely feral when he learns you are in heat. The animalistic urge to wreck you is always there, right beneath the surface, but when your hormones go wild and your heat sends out those heady pheromones, he takes it to another level. Your comfort is best determined by having your legs up on his shoulders, his cock buried inside you with his knot locking him in place while you scream his name until you are hoarse.

Oberyn Martell: Oberyn is actually slightly upset at you. There are other alphas, even betas, that you could have used to help you until he arrived. Ellaria lets him know that you are in your nest, suffering needlessly. He's even more upset that you haven't taken the potion he had been working with the maester of Dorne to help ease your heats. But he can't be too upset at you when you whimper his name and beg him to put a baby in you. He will stay right there until every second of your heat has passed and you're satisfied.

Zach Wellison: Zach is an attentive alpha, he's honestly so guilt ridden that he had been working on Ms. Martinez's water heater issues when your heat started. He's rushing to you and cooing, apologizing while he strips down and climbs into the bed with you. "I'm so sorry, baby, you should have called me." He is kissing and comforting you, pulling you into his arms and immediately starting to get you ready for his cock to take the ache away.

Max Lord: Max comes home, completely distracted by the fact that his company is failing. He smells something, but he is pouring over the reports and obsessing over the meetings that hadn't gone the way he had hoped them too. Unaware of your plight until he walks into the bedroom to change out of that uncomfortable suit and he is smacked in the face with your scent and sees you whining in the bed. His instinct is to take care of you and he will, but he's a little annoyed that he must right now. It's not the best time.

Marcus Moreno: He's nervous, this is the first time he has had to care for an omega since he lost his late wife. Not like you haven't had sex, but this is the first heat. It is his job to take care of you. He calls his mom and asks her to pick Missy up, aware that while his daughter knows what is going on, he needs to focus on you. Reminding you and himself that it will be okay and he will make sure that you are comfortable. Perhaps a little unsure of himself to start, but as soon as he comes into that alpha headspace, you remember why this man leads the Heroics team and is the perfect alpha for you.

Dieter Bravo: The fact that this man is an alpha is still the biggest surprise of your entire life, especially when he's your alpha. "Honey I'm hooooooooome!" Is the almost irritating greeting you get from the doorway, shouted through the house, but today he's yelping as soon as he hits the door. "Fuck! Where's that natural lube? Are you naked yet?" You can hear him banging around downstairs and slamming doors in a near state of panic. "I'm coming! Then - you're gonna cum! I promise! Fuck, I love when you are in heat!" Despite his chaos, Dieter loves noooooothing more than forgetting there is anything outside of the little nest you fix and the need to be buried inside you.

Javi Gutierrez: Javi was never away from you to begin with. He writes in the office with the door open and the second the first grunt of pain is heard, he is shutting down the laptop and coming to you. He knows that you are going into heat and immediately starts to reassure you that he will be right there for you. Whatever you need and however many times you need it, he will take care of it. Urging you to strip out of your itchy, irritating clothes and to climb into the bed that you will share for the next few days.

Tim Rockford: You have to call this motherfucker home. It's another late night for him. Chinese take-out cartons, cigarettes and stale coffee had been how his evening had looked as he worked well past the time other officers went home, burning another quart of that midnight oil. He had been startled when the phone rang, but when he hear your desperate, pained voice begging him to come home, he's grabbing his coat and racing out the door.

Joel Miller: Going into heat on the road is not easy, or convenient. If you think that his stress levels are high normally, they go through the roof right now. You will be so vulnerable, and his attention has to be focused on taking care of you. Joel will have to ignore the needs of your body, and his, until he can find a safe place for you to hole up. Somewhere Ellie can block out the "gross sounds", because let's face it, who wants to hear their chosen parents fuck? There's also the problem with needing more calories and water during this time. It's a lot to deal with, but Joel will take care of you, he hasn't let you down yet - but he has got to get you somewhere to dick you down before you feel like you're going to die.

Marcus Acacius: The entire encampment knows you are in heat. The tents are not thick enough to keep the cloying scent of your need and arousal contained to his tent. Alphas will be sniffing around and the only thing that protects you is the clear knowledge that any alpha that lays a hand on you will be die a slow and agonizing death at the general's hands. He is pulled from a strategy meeting by one of his servants, a loyal beta, who informs him of your plight. Making him hurry back, hearing your calls for him long before he reaches the tent to join you. Once he is inside, he is in complete control and the war will just have to go on without him, or there will be a tentative peace while he cares for you.

[xbeababyx]

You bought a new camera and your boyfriend is your role model for every photo.

[tokkiwrites]

📌 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ˊˎ- perv professor! joel miller × fem student! reader, age gap, infidelity, power imbalance, manipulation, mentions of masturbation (male), forbidden relationship, sexual themes, p in v, talk of pregnancy, obsessive joel, possessive joel.

• professor!joel, who used to pride himself on his professionalism, but ever since you started showing up to his lectures he’s been fighting a losing battle.

• professor!joel, who spends half the class pacing behind the podium just to hide the way his cock strains against his slacks whenever you lean over your desk.

• professor!joel, who has to lock the staff bathroom door after every one of your classes because he’s so hard it hurts. Gripping the sink, panting your name under his breath as he fists his cock, imagining your pretty lips wrapped around him.

• professor!joel, who leaves messy, shameful stains in his boxers on the days you wear that dress that barely reaches your mid thigh.

• professor!joel, whose marriage is hanging on by a thread, but it doesn’t stop him from twisting his gold wedding ring when you smile up at him, mind filled with the filthiest things he wants to do to you.

• professor!joel, who starts staying late on campus, just in case he can catch you alone.

• professor!joel, who watches you out of the corner of his eye at that shitty college bar one night, sweet, innocent little thing, so pretty, and alone.

• professor!joel, who corners you against the wall, fists his hands in your dress, mutters against your mouth, "Been thinkin' 'bout you for fuckin' months, baby. Can't — can't pretend no more."

• professor!joel, who drags you into the backseat of his truck and fucks you for the first time — sloppy, hungry, desperate, still wearing his wedding ring.

• professor!joel, who tells himself it was only gonna happen once, swears up and down that night was a mistake but two days later, he’s dragging you into his office, locking the door behind you, and bending you over his desk.

• professor!joel, who fucks you slow and deep with his hand pressed over your mouth so no one hears you whimper and moan out his name. "Y’want them all hearin’ how bad you need it? Huh?"

• professor!joel, who comes home to his wife after work and has to pretend he isn’t thinking about you the whole time he’s touching her.

• professor!joel, who fucks you hard and mean sometimes, just to punish you for making him fall apart like this. But then stays buried inside you afterward, kissing your temple, "Didn't mean that, baby, didn’t mean none of it. Just— fuck, love how you feel, love you so much."

•professor!joel, who thinks about getting a tiny shitty apartment in another city, letting you move in with him, keeping you full of his babies.

• professor!joel, who buys you little gifts he could never give you openly: a lacy pair of panties, a necklace you wear everyday.

• professor!joel, who presses his forehead to your bare stomach after he fucks you raw, voice breaking "Ain’t ever gonna let you go, sweet girl. You hear me?"

• professor!joel, who finally snaps when he sees some punk TA giving you too much attention, grabs your wrist after class and says, "Don't need t'be around these boys no more. Let me take care of you."

• professor!joel, who gets you to drop your classes and holds you into his lap while you cry about it.

• professor!joel, who finds a shitty little house near the edge of town and moves you in.

• professor!joel, who keeps you home in nothing but soft camisoles and panties.

• professor!joel, who makes you breakfast and picks your clothes for the day, leaves you with kisses and promises to come home early and then ruins you again against the front door the second he walks back in.

[baronessvonglitter]

Daddy Can Fix It

handyman!Joel Miller x fem!plus size!Reader | wc: 5.4K

Summary: All the housewives in your neighborhood rave about the local handyman. And with very good reason.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. Reader is plus-size, wears dress and lingerie, has hair and body hair, and manicure. Reader's age not mentioned so there is only as much or as little of an age gap as you'd like. TW - fat shaming, food shaming, infidelity (by reader, and it's technically warranted) Pet names (daddy for Joel; sugar, darlin', baby, sweetheart for reader). Housewife/trad-wife vibes. Totally a bored housewife fantasy. Mention of female masturbation. Breast/nipple play, oral (f & m receiving). Fingering. Body worship. Pussy pronouns. Unprotected piv (Joel is snipped, but still.. this is fiction). Light spanking. Rough sex. Creampie. Joel's kind of a big ol' slut for the lonely housewives but is also really useful around the house, so you're definitely getting a good deal 🛠️

Author's note: it's been a hot minute since I've written a one-shot for Joel but it was impossible to resist. It all started because of this pic:

so yeah, Pinterest strikes again. How could I not write a Joel fic based on this? I hope y'all enjoy 💖

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

"He can come clean my pipes anytime."

Raucous laughter erupts from the group of ladies huddled near the cupcakes at the latest book club meeting. You listen from the other side of the room where one of the older members is asking you to help her with her Kindle. "I never know how to keep up with all this fancy technology," Marion huffs, adjusting her bifocals.

You're trying to be patient with her, but the conversation across the room is far more intriguing. "It just needs to be charged. Your battery is low," you say three times before Marion can even hear you.

When you've managed to extricate yourself from her, you go up to the ladies and, with a friendly smile, join in. "I couldn't help overhearing."

Some of the women exchange glances, as if deciding to let you in on their convo or not. "Becky's just showing us that she got her kitchen cabinets redone," someone finally pipes up.

"That's not all she got," another starts to crack up.

You look at Becky's phone screen. The before and after shots of her cabinets are nothing short of miraculous. "That's great, Becky! I know you've been asking Gerald for a renovation for awhile," you tell her, hoping she'll be pleased you remember the plight she droned on about for weeks.

"It is great," she says, eyeing you with something like suspicion. "I have a very good handyman."

"He does everything," a nicer girl, Isabelle, chimes in.

"Boy does he," another mutters, hiding her smirk behind her cup of lemonade while the others giggle behind their hands.

Amirah adds, "He varnished my dining room table, power washed my driveway, helped organize my garage," she counts on her fingers. "He's good for little things around the house, and his prices are decent."

"It's like he's just giving it away," Becky says with a smirk and this gets the group laughing again.

"Maybe you can give me his information later," you say politely. "I have a laundry list of things that I need help with now that Wesley's working so much overtime."

The women eye one another, and it's Amirah, the leader of the group, who gives the definite nod. "Of course, sweetie. After the meeting."

"Great!" Smiling, you try to make your way through the group, saliva pooling in your mouth at the tower of red velvet cupcakes on the table spread. You reach for a couple more.

"You've already had three," Becky reminds you, casting a not-so-subtle glance at your body. Her voice sweet as honey but her words carry poison. You know you're not as thin or as glamorous as the other women in this room. You dress the same as them, wear your hair perfectly coiffed and your nails are always manicured, but just because you're not a size zero they deem you unworthy to truly be one of them.

You hold your head high with what little courage you have in the face of Becky's bitchiness, your sinful little cupcake in your hand. "I actually had three. And right now I'm about to make it five," you say sweetly, licking a swipe of cream cheese icing before putting two cupcakes on a china plate and going back to your seat.

That night, Wesley doesn't ask about your book club. He doesn't ask how your day was. He doesn't do much except pour himself a drink when he gets home and sit in front of the TV to watch the news.

You're dressed for bed, a modest robe over a red silk babydoll chemise, a purchase you'd made on a whim in the hopes that you could spice up your sex life with him which, truth be told, has never been more than lukewarm from the start.

"Do you think we should.. go to bed?" you suggest, a naughty tone to your whisper.

"It's early," he grunts, barely giving you a glance.

"I just thought we could spend some time together.." you brush your hand across his knee but he impatiently swipes it away.

"Please, darling, it's a weeknight," he looks at you as if you'd just suggested a threesome with him and the milk man. As he leaves the room he looks back at you, but the hope that rises in your chest is soon shattered when he shakes his head upon seeing your lingerie. "Red is for streetwalkers," he tells you before he goes into his study.

Daddy Can Fix It

You run your finger over the business card Amirah gave you, with all the handy man's information. The card shows his white company van with the logo emblazoned on the side: Joel Miller, Handyman At Your Service so it says in black lettering. There's a phone number and a website as well.

You dial the number, expecting to hear a secretary's voice, but you're greeted with a rich, baritone "Good mornin', thanks for callin' Daddy, what can I fix for ya today?"

Jesus, the voice alone is enough to get you flustered. And Daddy? You weren't expecting that. "Um, hi, I got your number through a friend and I'd like to see if you're available to come mow the lawn today." You peek out your curtains, seeing how the grass has grown taller than you'd like since the last time Wesley has cared enough to cut it.

"You got a lawn mower, sugar?"

"Yes, I do, um.. daddy.."

You hear him chuckle on the other end of the line. "You can call me Joel."

"Joel. Yes, I do. Is there anything else you'll need?" New to the housewife lifestyle, you're still unsure of how to make such appointments. Before you met and married Wesley, you just mowed the lawn yourself, but your husband refuses to hear of his good and proper wife performing a menial act.

"Got any bushes that need trimmin'?"

You aren't sure why that particular sentence makes you feel the blood rush to your face. "I typically keep up with it on my own, when I'm tending to my garden."

Joel gives a small chuckle and it warms your insides. "That ain't no problem. Today around eleven good for ya?"

"Eleven sounds perfect."

"Pricing'll be about fifty, but we can come to an agreement once the job is done."

"Wonderful. I look forward to seeing you." You give him your name and address, hanging up with a sense of accomplishment.

His van appears in your driveway just a minute before eleven. You're impressed with his timeliness. What you don't expect is the gorgeous stranger on your doorstep.

Joel Miller is tall, broad-shouldered, skin bronze from working out in the sun, and his dark brown hair is greying handsomely. If you had to guess his age you'd say fifties. He's in a grey tee shirt and work jeans. What stand out to you the most are his eyes: almost black in color, appraising you as you wait in the doorway, prim and proper housewife, lips parted, eyes wide.

He asks for you by name and you nod, chuckling slightly.

"If you can show me where the lawn mower is I'd be happy to get started," he offers, and the voice you recognize from the phone makes you melt.

You lead him outside to the garage and he takes out the mower, filling it up with some gasoline first. "Is there anything else you need?" you ask politely.

"No ma'am," he looks over his shoulder at you as he pushes the machine to the front yard. "Get inside and get outta this sun. I'll handle it from here," he smiles and it makes you want to giggle like a schoolgirl.

From inside you watch him through the window, deftly maneuvering the lawn mower over, trimming the grass to a neat, short length. It's not yet the hottest hour of the day, but you see him sweating, and when he stops a moment to remove his shirt, you suddenly feel your pulse in the deepest part of your cunt. You wonder what it would be like to lick up every drop of sweat off his chest.

Like a slow motion scene from a movie, you watch the motion of his arms, the rippling of his back as he guides the machine over the lawn. Biting your lip you take in the sight of him, the determination on his face redirecting your thoughts to how he would look above you: hot, sweaty, hard, plunging into your drenched pussy.

How long has it been since you've had a man? Wesley prefers his Saturday nights like clockwork. But you want more. Stupidly thinking marriage was the best way to be treated right and fucked properly, you realized it was not the title but the man, and the particular man you chose was lacking in all area which mattered.

You aren't even sure you love him anymore.

But right now, watching Joel is a treat, and fantasizing about him is a little secret you'll harbor for later in the day when you'll inevitably find yourself using the showerhead attachment.

He finishes the front and back yards, and through the blinds you peep him putting his shirt back on, running a hand through his wavy curls before putting the mower away and coming to your door.

You answer it before he knocks. "Thank you!" is the first thing that comes out of your mouth. "Please come in and we can settle payment."

He cleans the bottoms of his boots on the welcome mat before stepping inside your home and following you to the kitchen. "You have a very nice home, ma'am."

"You're too kind," you're modest about his compliment, but it's thrilling to have someone say something nice about the hard work you put into keeping house. "Would you care for some iced tea? I've just made it fresh."

"I won't say no to that," he chuckles lightly, and you're happy to fill a glass with some of the fresh-brewed tea over ice.

Joel leans back against the sink, pouty pink lips pressed to the glass as he tips it back, opening just enough to take a sweet sip. You watch his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallows, and you wish you could lick a stripe up along his the length of his delicious-looking neck to collect all the sweat that's beaded there.

"Is there anythin' else you need help with today?" he asks, his question carrying a hint of something more.

You blank for a moment, getting lost in the depth of his obsidian eyes, still caught up in your little fantasy. "No.. no, I don't think so." Taking a look around your eyes dart to every corner, taking mental stock of the upstairs rooms as well. "No," you finalize with a smile.

"If you're sure.." he says in that same low tone.

You give him fifty dollars and chat a little while he finishes his drink.

"If there's nothin' else I'll get goin'. Feel free to call me again if you need somethin' done, or looked at. Ain't nothin' I can't fix," he winks at you on your doorstep and you feel a waterfall in your panties.

Isabelle calls later in the day. "So? You had Joel over today, right? How'd it go?"

Dinner is in the oven and there's about an hour before your husband gets home. Phone on speaker, you start peeling potatoes. "It was fine. He did a great job. I'm sure I'll use him again."

Over the line you hear Isabelle sigh. "Isn't his dick beautiful? I swear, just thinking about it gets me so wet!"

You nearly slice a finger off, shocked by her words. Even though you're alone in the house, you pick up the phone and take it off speaker. "What are you talking about?"

"I think it's at least eight inches, and the way it curves at the end," Isabelle sounds like she's moaning.

"Okay, I'm lost. I hired the handyman that you and the others referred. That's who came over today."

"Exactly, dear! Did he fuck you? You don't have to give details of course."

Your brain is put on pause as only silence fills your throat.

"Oh dear," Isabelle continues. "You didn't know?"

"Know what?"

She sighs, possibly settling herself on her chaise longue out by her pool she's so proud of. "Joel Miller is a handyman, yes. But we also pay him a little extra for other services."

"Oh." You sink onto the living room settee, the closest thing to you.

"Mm-hmm. Mind you, it's not an all-the-time thing. But we've all had him. It's just something fun. You get some help around the house with your honey-do list, and then a good fucking after. Or whatever pleases you."

"And you.. you've.. slept with him?"

"I wouldn't call it sleeping, honey, but yeah I've been with him. It's all for fun. Nobody really takes it seriously."

"And everyone else at the book club?"

"Pretty much. Do you really think any of our husbands could compare to that god of a man Joel Miller?"

No, no you doubt any man could hold up to the stud who'd just helped you with the lawn.

He's on your mind constantly, but as tightly as Wesley keeps his wallet to himself, you can't validate having Joel's help every day. You make the choice to wait until the following week.

And what a long wait it is. Jealously you wonder whose house he's going to. Jackie down the street? Bitchy Becky with her face like a rat, no tits and no ass?

You consider calling Isabelle to beg for the details (which she'll probably give you without a fuss anyway). But a sordid part of you wants to find out for yourself. You already know he's well-endowed. He's at least twice as big as Wesley, who wouldn't know what to do with a big cock if he was blessed with one overnight.

A week to the day since he made his last visit, Joel comes back to replace the batteries in your smoke alarms. It's a job you've done yourself, perching on a stepladder, but it'll be more fun to have Daddy fix it.

The phone call to schedule him was practically foreplay. That smooth-as-chocolate voice had your panties drenched. When he's finally here, inside your home, inside your needy little cunt.

Your eyes rove over his form as he uses your stepladder, only needing the first rung. It doesn't stop you from staying right there with him, holding it steady on the other side. You hear his little grunts as he gets to work, watch his thick, strong fingers handle the batteries with a delicacy you can imagine he uses in other things.

Licking your lips, you realize you're face-to-face with the faded blue denim crotch of his jeans, those Levis hugging him tight in all the right places.

"I'm 'bout done here," he says, putting the smoke detector back in its place. "Anythin' else you need help with, lil' darlin'?"

Your hand presses to the bulge in his jeans, and you're delighted when you feel him twitch in response. "As a matter of fact, I do need your help with something else.."

"That right?" he murmurs, pressing your hand against him, letting you feel him grow hard under his palm. "Been waitin' to see if you'd ask.."

He steps down, keeps his dark eyes on you. "Pretty lil' thing like yourself don't get enough attention, huh?" he whispers, brushing his thumb across your cheek.

Softly you sigh, unashamed at how needy you've been for a simple touch. "No.. but I'd like you to help with that."

"That's what I'm here for, darlin'," he smiles, his thumb tracing your soft plump lips. "What do you want me to do, baby?"

"Everything," you answer quickly. "I'm not.. really sure what the usual is.."

His smile is kind as his hand traces down your neck, leaving goosebumps to rise on your skin. "You want me to fuck ya, give ya somethin' nobody else is doin'.. that it?" He places your hand back on his bulge and you respond by rubbing him, your own cunt pulsing around nothing in excited expectation.

"Yes.. I need to get fucked," you agree emphatically, pulling him into your bedroom.

Now he's here, in your room, and you think you're dreaming. He's letting you take the lead, completely at your service. All the women in your book club were probably more open with their desires, knowing immediately what they wanted and how to get it. All the fantasies about Joel you've created and harbored in the deepest part of your heart are now as impalpable as gossamer.

"You tell me what you want, honey," he drawls in that molasses-rich voice of his. His hands gently trace your waist, smoothing down your dress as he moves towards your curvaceous hips. "God damn, I bet you look fuckin' gorgeous outta this dress. Wanna show me?"

Biting your lip, you nod, tugging off your apron and dropping it to the floor. Not gonna be a damn housewife while he's with me..

A tiny smirk on your face, you gently push Joel back onto your bed, and he rights himself with an equally mischievous smile as he watches you. He palms his hard cock through his jeans as you do a little striptease, tantalizing him as you slip your prim flower-print dress off your shoulders.

"There we go, baby," he growls as the dress falls down to your hips, your scarlet satin bra revealed, your breasts practically spilling over the cups, making Joel's mouth water. You turn around for his help in unzipping the bottom part of your dress, finally feeling free as it falls away, pooling at your feet.

Joel lets out a wolf whistle as he takes in the sight of you in your ruby undergarments, the same you'd tried to seduce your husband in. Now they're finally being put to good use. "Red's your color, gorgeous," he mutters, his hands on your hips, mapping out your generous curves and the soft rolls of your belly.

You've almost forgotten what it was like, this power to entrance a man and make him see you as the only woman in the world. Marriage to an uncaring and unfeeling idiot had left you cut off from your sexuality. Now you're reclaiming it.

Joel's hands travel back up to your waist, fingers deftly unclasping your bra. He unwraps you like you're the goddamn Christmas gift he's been begging for for months. His tongue wets his lips as your plump breasts are revealed. With one hand on your lower back, the other palms your tit with a rough hand. Your nipple rises to his touch and he dips down to swirl his tongue around it, gently coaxing it further with his teeth. Your head falls back as the sensation zings straight to your cunt. "Fuck, Joel.."

He smiles against the softness of your skin. "Sensitive here, huh? Bet these ain't been properly played with in awhile. Gonna change that right now." And with that he gives another hard suck, his dick already leaking when he hears your needy moan. He treats the other breast with the same attention. You take one of his hands and lead it to the drenched front side of your panties, but he stops you.

"Not yet, baby. Want you to see yourself before I fuckin' ruin ya."

You lay on your side on the bed as you watch Joel undress. It's a sight you won't soon forget: skin tan from working outdoors, with a smattering of chest hair that's also showing some grey, chiseled arms, and a happy trail that leads from his navel to the front of his boxers, which are tented. He wears a little smirk as he pulls them off and your reaction is priceless.

Joel is fucking hung.

You've taken big cocks before, but his is formed of pure fantasy, like a dildo from your favorite sex shop. Isabelle wasn't exaggerating about his size. And his cock is so beautiful you want to cry. Watching as he gives it a couple strokes, all eight thick uncut inches, the rosy pink tip glistens with precum, the veins and ridges prominent. Even the curve Isabelle mentioned is sexy, bound to hit all the right places inside you. His balls, rounded and heavy, move with his motions.

Thank God I did my yoga this week.

You beckon him to you, pulling the boxers away completely and dipping your head to taste him. Your tongue laves across the salty slit of his tip, and you relish the hitch of his breath. He's not here for you to please him, but it gets you wet wrapping your lips around his cock, suctioning your mouth and stroking upward from his base. When you start to massage his balls he stops you. "Don't wanna shoot too soon, baby," he says breathlessly.

He pulls you up off the bed and into a kiss, his hands playing along the edges of your panties as his tongue tastes yours. His cock, still wet from your mouth, nudges against your soft belly. "You deserve to feel good," he whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his tongue tracing the outline. At last he pulls your panties down, a rumble in his throat when he sees the sweet glaze between your thighs, glistening in your triangle of hair.

"Sit on my lap, baby. With your back to me," he orders in a soft growl.

His flesh is warm beneath yours, and god it feels good just to be touched again, to feel desired by someone. You haven't known it in so long. He sits back against the headboard, moving the pillows on either side. His arm instinctively wraps around your waist as he leaves soft, feathery kisses across your shoulder.

"So soft," he murmurs. "C'mon, baby, look at yourself," he nods to the mirror in front of you.

When you catch your reflection you're exhilarated at the sight: you, naked, with Joel behind you, kissing your neck, fondling your tits, thumb brushing over them and lightly pinching them to hardened peaks. "Spread your legs for me, baby," he whispers, getting started by brushing his hand from your knee to your petal-soft inner thigh.

It's lascivious, watching all this unfurl before you in the mirror. You're spread open, on full display. Your pussy is gushing over with need, and you trace your folds with your fingers.

Behind you, Joel's cock twitches, and he rubs himself lightly against your back. "Lemme do that.." he whispers, gently pulling your hand away, bringing your fingers to his mouth and sucking your juice off them. "So sweet," he murmurs, and your belly is hot with lust.

His touch is soft and careful at first, exploring you and figuring out what you like, what you need. It feels like he's memorizing every inch of you. His thick fingers glide over your lips, circling, teasing you so you'll beg him for more.

"Joel," you whine, lifting yourself to him, trying to get his hand to position itself where you need it most. But he evades you, a dark chuckle emanating from deep in his throat. "You're payin' me to do a job and I wanna do it right. Not fair to rush me."

Your eyes close in frustration. "Joel, please.."

"Nuh-uh. Daddy."

"Fuck," you whimper. "Please, daddy."

"That's more like it." His touch finds your clit, throbbing and needy, and you nearly see stars at the feeling. He presses once again before sliding two fingers into your warm, welcoming cunt. "Christ, she's really suckin' me in there," he grunts, shifting behind you as his dick becomes nearly impossible to ignore.

"Yes," you moan at the sweet intrusion, the easy glide of his fingers in your drenched pussy. "Just like that."

"So fuckin' tight," he says through gritted teeth. And Jesus, his fingers are thick, the calloused thumb swiping over your clit, making you twitch and your hips arch up for more. "She's pulsin' around me," he mutters, his rich voice in your ear, lips brushing against your lobe. His fingers glide in, stretching you as you coat him.

"Ah, she's gettin' all creamy for me," he coos as he pulls them out a moment, licking off one finger and giving the other to you. You taste yourself, salty and sweet, humming in appreciation as you release his digit from your mouth with a pop.

He returns to his work, his hand pistoning against your folds, the squishy sounds of your soaked cunt beautifully obscene to your ears. Your voice trembles as you cry out, a sweet vibrato that resounds throughout the room as Joel's fingers curl in on your g-spot. He adds a bit more pressure to your clit as he tries to get you there. Moaning, he nuzzles his face into your neck.

It feels like you break open under his touch, hips arching up, swallowing his delving fingers deeper inside you as you spasm uncontrollably around him, a string of curses falling from your lips.

You barely have time to recover before he's on you again, moving in front of you as you lay against the pillows, like Venus in a Titian painting. His hands lift your thighs, softly kneading their thickness as he plants kisses on either side, trailing up to your cunt, your scent all around him.

"My husband never goes down on me," you whisper, heart racing as quick as a hummingbird's wings.

"Ain't he a waste of fuckin' space," Joel grunts, a wicked gleam in his eye as he dives in, flattening his tongue to lick a stripe upwards to your needy, throbbing clit. Your hands grab at his hair, pushing him forward as his groan is muffled by your sweet, saturated pussy.

"God.. damn!" you gasp at the delicious feeling of his tongue on you, lapping up every drop, tracing your lips and tickling your clit. He's relentless in his pursuit of making you come, switching up the tempo, adding a finger and then another, praising you when you cry out again. "Squeezin' so hard on me.. she's just about ready, ain't she?" Before he finally suctions his lips around your puffy clit and sucks, humming around it.

It's as if your soul leaves your body for a precious few moments, muttering monosyllables in sweet relief. You've never come so hard before, ever. And when you look up at Joel you wish you could worship him.

"Like the sweetest tea I ever drank," he says, licking his lips.

"Fuck me, Joel," you whine, still not fully come down from your climax.

"C'mere," he growls, putting you on all fours so you're facing the mirror again. You look at your reflection: hair mussed, eyes shining bright, skin glowing from your orgasm. Joel lines himself up behind you, smiling as you watch yourself. "Got every right to look at yourself, darlin'.. someone as fuckin' hot as you, with these hips, this ass?" He grabs one cheek and gives it a slap. You gasp, jolting forward, then wiggle your ass at him, wanting more.

"You a naughty lil' thing," Joel smirks, teasing your folds with his tip. "Wanna get this pretty lil' pussy ruined?"

"Yes, daddy," you moan, pushing back on him.

"Fuck me, I like the way you say that." He bites his lip as he continues teasing you. "Once I fuck you, you'll never let that limp dick husband of yours touch you ever again, I promise you that."

Your reply is cut off when you feel him nudge inside, your walls breached by his thick cock. "Oh god... yes!" you exclaim, clutching the bedsheets. "Fuck.. your cock is so huge.." You can feel the tip just kissing your cervix.

"Yeah, you like it? Like gettin' fucked by this big cock? Gettin' stretched out? Gonna leave a big ol' gapin' hole for your husband to come home to."

He bottoms out, grabbing your ass cheeks with both big hands, watching the smoothness of your skin as your cunt clenches onto him. "God damn what a pretty sight.. you oughta see this. Pussy's barely fittin' me as it is. Only tighter thing would be your little ass.." and he pulls out all the way to slam back in, glorying in the way you scream his name.

"There she goes, gotta get 'er used to me," he grunts, eyes on your swollen pussy lips wrapping his cock in a vise with each steady thrust. "Jesus, sweetheart. So tight I gotta try not to blow my load."

The sound of his name on your lips, the way your body reacts to him, is like gasoline on an already raging fire. "That's it, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. "Say my name, baby. I wanna hear it." He quickens the pace, pressing deeper inside you.

"Daddy! Daddy!" you shout in time with each delicious snap of his hips. "My god, you're so fucking deep.." you moan.

"That's it, take all of me. You like the way I fill you?"

"Yes daddy!" Your fingers clutch the sheets as the bed rocks with your movements. "So full of you.."

He presses a hand to your abdomen. "Feel me there, baby? All up in your guts. No one else is ever gonna fill you the way I do. No one's ever gonna come close. This needy lil' cunt's gonna be cryin' for me every day until I come back and give her what she needs."

His dirty talk is getting you wetter, your juices running down between your thighs, making his cock all sloppy, the sound of it making you feral for more. "Fuck me, Joel.. fuck me fuck me fuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckme.." you mumble, face down, ass up, slack jawed as you drool on the sheets.

He speeds up, hips slamming against yours, balls thwacking under you. "Yeah? Want me to fill ya up, blow all this fuckin' load inside ya? Got snipped years ago, baby, 's up to you."

"Fill me up, make me dirty and messy," you groan.

"You want daddy to give you everything he's got, baby?" he repeats. "You want me to fill you til you're all messy and drippin' with me?"

"Yes.. yes please," you're barely able to get out.

"Fuck," he growls, grabbing hold of your hips as he pounds into you ferociously. Once he has control he places one hand on your back, keeping you pressed down as he angles himself to hit that delicious little spot inside and he knows he's hit it when you cry out, cursing and shivering, clamping down on him like a damn vise right before he lets go, streaming jet after jet of his hot come inside you. There's so much it's already leaking out while he's still inside you.

The rest of the week you make a list of things for Joel to do next time: perhaps check out what's going on with the washing machine, or maybe he could regrout your bathroom, or help you rearrange your living room furniture right before he rearranges your guts again.

Even Wesley notices the bright and cheery mood you're in, and how attractive you've become since taking on some of the home improvements. That weekend he does you a huge favor, and sits back in his armchair as he waits for you to discover it.

"Wesley? What were you doing in the garage for so long? I heard a lot of noise," you tell him, arms crossed, a look of suspicion on your face.

He looks pleased with himself. "Well honey, you've been so agreeable these past few days that I thought I'd cross off some little projects on your to-do list."

"Like what?" you ask slowly.

He lists off everything you've had planned for Joel to do in the coming weeks. Small things, of course, but Wesley has done all of them, leaving you with nothing for daddy to fix.

"I thought you'd be happy," he says, his face cloudy now that you're unhappy again.

"Happy? Not quite." You leave a moment and return with a hammer, heading towards your husband.

He cowers, ducking as you completely pass him by and swing the hammer into the drywall of the living room wall, over and over again. When you've let your anger out and Wesley is rightfully afraid of your next move, you simply smile sweetly, holding the hammer pressed to your apron with your well-manicured hands. "Looks like I'll have to call the handyman after all!"

dividers by @thecutestgrotto 👑

tagging those who showed interest when this baby was still just a wip: @itwasntimethatdidit40 @milla-frenchy @604to647 @inept-the-magnificent @clawdeewritesfanfic @manuymesut @bitccchmood @everybodylovedcontractors

[littlcdarlin]

dbf!Joel headcanons

warnings: big, though unspecified age gap, 18+ (as always)

note: Uni has been kicking my ass, so I’ve only had time for some headcanons lately. This Joel is very sweet, but I’m open to writing sleazy or dark Joel, too! If you have requests for any headcanons, I will be able to write them even during this stressful time. Full fics will take me a while longer. Enjoy reading, my loves <3 and feel free to add stuff!

He doesn’t really know how to cook well and mostly eats his faves every day but when you stay over more and more he makes an effort to learn and actually finds out he really likes it

Whatever pressure your parents put on you, he relieves it by accepting it rather than trying to fix it for you — you can just exist around him without expectation

He worries the age difference means you don’t have much to talk about, so he watches your favourite show that you mentioned and although it certainly wouldn’t have been his first pick, it lets him unwind. He likes watching something he knows you’ve watched and loved when you’re not around, it makes him feel closer to you

When he first starts looking at you differently he blue balls himself so as not to disrespect you — when he has sex with someone to relieve himself, he accidentally says your name to them

He keeps a polaroid of you in his wallet and cashiers wonder why he smiles at his debit card so much

He finds it hard to stay friends with your dad, because it makes him feel weird about this dynamic with you. He distances himself from your parents after they react badly to the news of your relationship, not because of guilt or cowardice, but because he doesn’t tolerate how they treat you

He thought he would hate the gossip after the two of you go public, but when you do, he finds himself imagining knocking you up just so everyone knows what he does to you. He opts for lots of hickeys until kids might be a possibility, but that doesn’t stop him from pretending you don’t have an IUD when he finishes inside of you

He loves when you wear his clothes, but when you forget your scarf at his place he wears it and enjoys that just as much — it smells like you and he likes the idea of people being able to tell it’s somebody else’s

When he figures out how much you like him talking to you during sex, he starts using the same voice/phrases in public to get you flustered & wet for him

He keeps everything that reminds him of you, like parking tickets etc. He doesn’t do anything with those things, doesn’t put them in a box, so they linger around his house, reminding him of you the way photographs would, except more privately

He starts “putting in an effort” for you when you start dating: styling his hair & wearing clothes he thinks you would prefer, until you tell him you like nothing more than his flannels and band tees and jeans, and although he doesn’t tell you, he’s beyond relieved. He realises you like him for him

When you tell your parents, Joel asks your father to hit him because “he knows he deserves it”. With time he learns he also deserves your kisses and smiles. Those things coexist within him, he thinks both are true

Despite completely supporting you in your pursuit of a degree & career, he likes when you’re on holiday, waiting around for him in his house wearing nothing but a pair of panties he bought for you & one of his hoodies. During those lazy weeks, he fucks you morning, afternoon, and night: before he leaves, when he gets home, and right before you go to sleep

He buys you a ring during the first week of dating because you mentioned how much you like it. He doesn’t give it to you until he knows you feel certain about him — he doesn’t want to freak you out. Still, even before that, he sometimes looks at it in its little black box and envisions it on your finger

During your first couple of “public dates” (neighbourhood barbecue where your parents are present etc.) he refrains from touching you much, although everyone knows about your relationship. You have to take his hand and initiate small touches for him to feel more comfortable

It takes him a short while, but then he loves being able to touch you in front of people: a hand on your lower back, an arm across your shoulder, his fingers lacing through yours, him pulling your back against his front and wrapping his arms around you. People stare sometimes (your Dad breaks one or two wine glasses in his hand), but Joel stops caring when he sees how happy it makes you

He tells you that you can change things about his home, that it should feel like your place, too and asks if you want to go shopping for “candles and stuff”, but you love being in a space that feels completely like him. It’s not how your apartment looks, but it makes you feel at ease, like you’re somehow living inside of him

Before he tells you he loves you, he whispers it in your ear when you’re sleeping, hoping your subconscious will somehow pick up on it. When he does tell you while you’re awake for the first time, it’s during breakfast. You stub your toe, and let out a string of curses you must have picked up on from him, and while he presses ice against your foot, kneeling in front of you, he smiles up and tells you: I love you.

The first time you sleep over at his house after he spent the night in your apartment, two brand new bottles of the shampoo and conditioner you use are in his shower. You thank him and jokingly ask why he didn’t buy your shower gel, too. He kisses you and tells you he likes when you smell like him.

He likes making you come more times than you thought you could — something about moving in and out of you while you tell him you can’t do it again, that you’re done, and then watching you fall apart on his cock anyway, thrills him to the bone. It makes him feel powerful, but part of it is knowing you let him fuck you without expecting an orgasm, that him being inside of you is enough for you to feel good

He doesn’t tell you, but he adds your name to his car insurance, so that you can drive it whenever you want

When you figure it out you give him road head every time the two of you drive somewhere — until he almost crashes the car and he forbids you to tempt him while he’s behind the wheel

He’s so nervous he asks Tommy for help when picking out a birthday gift for you — Tommy goes overboard and the gift turns out to be something completely ridiculous like a pair of huge earrings you would never wear. You tell Joel you don’t need a big fuss to feel loved by him. At night, he gives you a present he’s been wanting to give you for a while: he plays you a song he wrote for you on his guitar. It’s quiet and simple and so perfect you cry for half an hour

He doesn’t sleep well when you’re not around, and loves being close to you at night. If he could, he’d sleep nestled inside of you after a round of lazy midnight sex every night

As much as Tommy annoys him, it makes him happy to see how well you two get along. When you become actual friends with Tommy and hang out with him on your own, he’s more than pleased: the two people he loves the most in the world have become close

He would never ask it of you, but when you tell him you have stopped masturbating because he fucks you so often, it pleases him deeply. He likes being the only source of your pleasure. When you are apart for a while because of work/collage etc., he buys you a toy he can control from his phone

He tells Tommy he thinks he’s going to marry you during the first month of dating, which you find out about only on your wedding day during Tommy’s speech

[angelickks]

INTRODUCING   

                      bf! francisco"frankie"  morales  x  controversially  young  gf!reader  (nsfw  18+)

CONTROVERSIALLY  YOUNG  GF!READER   is  all  lip  gloss  and  sass,  curled  up  in  frankie's  passenger  seat  humming  to  songs  he  doesn’t  know,  laughing  at  things  that  make  him  feel  ancient  yet  when  you  look  at  him,  it’s  like  he’s  the  only  man  in  the  world.  your  the  line  frankie  morales  knows  he  shouldn’t  cross  but  already  has,  over  and  over,  with  shaking  hands  and  a  prayer  caught  between  his  teeth.  and  god  he  prays  he  deserves  you.  he  knows  he  doesn’t.  youʻre  his  second  chance.  his  worst  decision.  his  salvation.  and  if  loving  you  makes  him  a  fool,  a  hypocrite,  or  a  selfishly  sick  bastard?  then  so  be  it.

you  mix  soft,  sweet  looks  with  just  enough  edge  to  keep  people  guessing.  think  baby  tees  with  cherries  on  them,  short  pleated  skirts,  kitten  heels  or  a  perfectly  heeled  boot,  oversized  cardigans  and  tiny  gold  jewelry  that  says  your  name  in  cursive.  you  look  like  you  just  walked  out  of  a  trap  set  for  older  men  with  guilt  complexes.  (mission:  successful.)  vintage  juicy  couture.  you  have  a  collection  of  glittery  handbags  or  tote  bags  that  carry  lip  gloss,  gum,  travel  size  perfumes  and  absolutely  nothing  practical.

your  perfume  smells  like  sugar  and  summer  fruit.  you  wear  lip  gloss  that  leaves  a  perfect  print  on  his  cheek,  his  neck,  the  rim  of  his  coffee  mug.  “you  leavin’  your  mark  on  me  again,  baby?”  damn  right,  you  are.

you're  always  wearing  that  ultra  shiny,  sticky  sweet  lip  gloss—the  kind  that  tastes  like  something  fruity.  you  reapply  it  while  straddling  his  lap,  eyes  locked  on  his,  and  ask,  “wanna  taste?”  he  always  does.

your  aesthetic  screams  “messy,”  but  you're  sharp  as  hell.  frankie  learns  the  hard  way:  just  because  you  wear  tiny  tops  and  chew  bubblegum  doesn’t  mean  you  won’t  psychoanalyze  him  mid-argument  and  walk  away  with  his  soul  in  your  purse.

your  room  is  all  soft  bedding,  a  plethora  of  pillows,  fairy  lights,  fluffy  rugs,  and  discarded  clothes.  perfume  bottles  line  the  dresser  next  to  your  vibrator  and  a  polaroid  of  you  kissing  frankie’s  cheek.  it  smells  like  vanilla,  and  he  swears  he  can’t  think  straight  when  he’s  in  there.

"you’re  too  young  for  me"—as  he  unzips  your  dress.  frankie  tries  to  keep  things  appropriate.  he  really  does.  but  the  way  you  look  at  him?  the  way  you  bite  your  lip  when  he’s  talking?  he  knows  he’s  screwed.  his  resolve  cracks  like  glass.  "this  is  a  bad  idea,"  he  whispers  right  before  kissing  you  like  a  man  starved.

friends  give  him  shit—the  guys  call  him  a  cradle-robber.  he  shrugs  it  off,  but  there's  a  flash  in  his  eyes  that  dares  anyone  to  take  it  further.  because  yeah,  you're  young,  but  you’re  not  stupid.  you  keep  up.  you  challenge  him.  and  no  one  knows  how  deeply  you  two  get  each  other  behind  closed  doors.

you  test  the  boundaries,  and  he  lets  you—you  wear  his  old  t-shirts  to  bed.  too  long  on  you,  slipping  off  one  shoulder.  you  straddle  his  lap  in  private,  call  him  "old  man"  with  a  smirk,  and  he  growls,  "careful,  baby.  you  don’t  know  what  you’re  askin’  for."  but  you  do.  and  he  gives  it  to  you.

protective  with  a  capital  P—he’s  lowkey  obsessed  with  keeping  you  safe.  double-checks  locks,  watches  you  cross  the  street,  walks  you  to  class  or  work  when  he  can.  “text  me  when  you  get  there.  i  mean  it.”  he’s  not  controlling,  just  always  watching  out.

quiet  jealousy—he  hates  seeing  guys  your  age  flirt  with  you.  he  doesn’t  say  a  word  but  his  jaw  clenches,  his  hands  fist  in  his  pockets,  and  later  that  night,  he  fucks  the  doubt  out  of  you.  slow,  intense,  lips  at  your  ear  whispering,  “mine.  say  it.”

the  age  gap  gets  weaponized—you  call  him  sir  when  you’re  feeling  bratty.  or  wear  little  skirts  just  to  hear  him  say  “you  tryin’  to  kill  me,  baby  girl?”  there’s  power  in  how  easily  you  can  bring  him  to  his  knees.

It’s  never  just  about  getting  off.  even  when  it’s  rough.  hands  pinning  you,  voice  wrecked  in  your  ear.  there’s  this  reverence  in  the  way  he  touches  you.  frankie  loves  like  a  man  who  knows  what  it’s  like  to  lose.  and  now  that  he  has  you,  he’s  not  letting  go.

frankie  nearly  crashes  his  truck  every  time  you  show  up  wearing  a  crop  top  and  little  athletic  shorts  with  his  hoodie  hanging  off  your  shoulders.  you  always  play  innocent“what?  it’s  hot  out.”  while  twirling  the  drawstrings  like  a  threat.

phone  full  of  sins—selfies.  videos.  voice  notes.  you  send  him  pictures  in  the  mirror,  back  arched,  lip  bit,  captioned  “wish  u  were  here”  he  tells  you  to  stop.  you  never  do.

you  act  like  a  spoiled  pillow  princess.  pink  nails  in  the  sheets,  soft  moans,  all  “please,  frankie…”but  you're  a  tease  under  that  pout.  pulls  away  when  he  gets  close.  giggles  when  he  groans.  until  he  flips  you  over  and  ruins  you.

bedroom  mirror  chaos—you  love  watching.  you'll  ride  him  in  front  of  a  mirror,  looking  over  your  shoulder,  pouting  like  a  porn  star.  frankie’s  losing  his  damn  mind  under  you,  hands  bruising  your  hips,  gritting,  “you  like  seein’  how  fucked  out  you  are,  huh?”

he  watches  your  favorite  shows  even  if  he  doesn’t  get  them.  listens  to  your  spotify  playlists,  reads  your  texts  with  emojis  he  doesn’t  fully  understand.  he  teases  you  for  them,  but  he’s  the  one  saving  memes  to  send  you  later.

you  make  him  laugh.  really  laugh.  you  pull  him  out  of  his  darkness.  when  his  ptsd  creeps  in,  your  presence  is  grounding.  sometimes  you  just  curl  into  him  and  run  your  fingers  through  his  curls  while  he  breathes  you  in  like  oxygen.

text  mesages  consist  of —

"sweetheart,  why  did  my  entire  truck  smell  like  strawberries?  there's  also  glitter  littering  the  dashboard."

"how  do  u  spell  the  sound  u  make  when  u  nut"—"you're  blocked."

"go  put  on  pants  before  i  drive  over  there"—"make  me"

you  guys  have  a  bond  that’s  impossible  to  break,  no  matter  how  much  either  of  you  fight  it.  your  arguments  are  heated,  your  attraction  is  magnetic,  but  when  it  comes  down  to  it,  you  can’t  resist  each  other.  when  you  say,  “you  love  me,”  he  grunts,  too  proud  to  admit  it.  until  the  next  time  you  kiss  him  breathless,  and  he  knows  without  a  doubt:  he  does—you  bring  the  fun,  the  chaos,  the  fire.  he  brings  the  calm,  the  steadiness,  the  grounding  force.  together,  you  balance  out  the  extremes,  creating  a  strange,  beautiful  harmony  in  a  relationship  built  on  trust,  desire,  and  the  perfect  blend  of  opposites.

#NAV.ᐟ  pedro pascal mlist!

©  ANGELICKKS

[perotovar]

pedro pascal character's heights

so, i was recently asked by @bonezone44 who was taller, pero or ezra, and i said pero (at around 6'2"/187cm). this led to @rebel-held asking who i thought p's shortest characters were and i said dieter (at around 5'8"/172cm) and it got me thinking...

pedro's acting lends itself to his characters not only being different personality-wise, but at least to me, look-wise as well. they feel/look different to me. so, below the cut i'm going to ramble about my thoughts on how tall i think the ppcu is.

because why not 🤷🏻‍♀️

i'll go from tallest to shortest:

Pero -> 6'2" / 187cm

Jack -> 6'1" / 185cm

Joel, Tim, Din -> 6'0" / 182cm

Frankie, Javier P, Max, Dave, Lucien -> 5'11" / 180cm

Marcus P, Marcus M, Oberyn, Silva, Ezra -> 5'10" / 177cm

Javi G -> 5'9" / 175cm

Dieter, Acacius, Maxwell, Dio -> 5'8" / 172cm

now, i've got reasons for all of these if you're curious but this is all just for fun!

[lionlena]

Headcanon: If Teresa tried to get Marcus back after years... (MarcusPikexf!reader)

Teresa couldn't believe it. She just got off the train and saw him.

Marcus Pike, her ex-fiancé, stood at the same train station.

She hadn't seen him in almost eight years, but he didn't seem to have aged at all and somehow he looked even better. Teresa smiled broadly.

"Marcus! Oh my god! What a meeting!"

Marcus grimaced slightly, but she didn't seem to notice because she hugged him tenderly.

This made him feel awkward and he took a step back.

"Umm… Hi, Teresa."

"That's really amazing, how are you?" Before Marcus could open his mouth, she already started talking: "I divorced Jane three years ago, it turned out he was cheating on me. Now I'm alone."

Marcus took this information very indifferently and looked at his watch, then at Teresa, who was looking at him as if she was waiting for something. But since he didn't say anything, she took the initiative again.

"Maybe we should go for coffee?"

Marcus wanted to laugh. What was she counting on? That during those eight years, he did nothing but wait for her.

"Listen, Teresa, we probably won't go for coffee."

She looked at him surprised but didn't give up.

"Maybe we can just exchange phone numbers. We don't have to go for coffee." She winked at him. "We can go for a drink."

Marcus tried to be polite and forced a smile, but even Teresa could tell that it was a fake smile. She also noticed that he was constantly looking at his watch.

"Are you in a hurry to go somewhere?" She asked sweetly and blinked her eyes.

She was starting to feel a little frustrated that her charms weren't working on him like they used to.

Before he could answer, he finally saw you and a real big smile appeared on his face.

"Actually, I was waiting for someone." He glanced casually at Teresa, his eyes focused on you, on your beautiful, round pregnant belly, and on the little six-year-old boy running towards him and screaming, "Daddy!"

Marcus said a quick and curt "Sorry" to Teresa. But it was obvious that he wasn't the least bit sorry. He fell to one knee and spread his arms wide.

"Hey, buddy!"

The laughing toddler fell into his arms and wrapped his arms around his neck. Marcus felt a wave of happiness. He stood up holding his son in his arms.

"How was it with your grandparents?"

"I was riding on a pony"

"Wow! You have to tell me everything on the way home."

Teresa was still standing nearby, watching the scene with open eyes. Marcus simply radiated the energy of a perfect dad.

By this time, you had managed to join them. You walked much slower because of your big belly. Marcus immediately kissed you on the lips and used his free hand to tenderly caress your pregnant belly.

"How are my princesses?" He asked with concern.

He hadn't seen you for only three days, and even though he knew your parents would take good care of you, he was furious that he couldn't go with his family due to work.

"All right." You replied with a smile. "We're just hungry."

Marcus chuckled.

"So it's good to have a delicious dinner waiting at home."

"Did you make dinner?"

"Yes, dinner, laundry, and grocery shopping."

Your heart instantly melted and you caressed his cheek tenderly. He was truly the perfect husband.

Teresa grimaced and felt the bitter taste of jealousy in her mouth. This is what she lost. A perfect, caring husband. She finally cleared her throat and that was when you noticed her. You looked at Marcus questioningly. He gave Teresa a blank look and muttered:

"It was nice meeting you, now excuse me… Family duties call."

Before Teresa could get over her shock, he simply wrapped his arms around your waist and started leading you towards the parking lot where he left the car.

You turned back and noticed that the woman looked as if someone had poured stinking water on her.

"Who she was?" You asked out of curiosity.

Marcus shrugged.

"Nobody important."

You weren't going to ask more. You knew your husband and you didn't feel jealous. You knew his eyes were focused only on you.

Yes, I hate Teresa... And writing this made me wildly happy :D

Pernament tag list: @harriedandharassed

Next part: Marcus tells you about his meeting with Teresa...

[heavenlytouches]

Marcus Acacius- solace

𓇼˚₊‧꒰ა

GN reader

<3 (SFW)

TW- none

Calming down general Acacius after he comes home too tired to do anything

General Marcus Acacius

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with strokes of gold and crimson, you found yourself waiting on the cool stone steps of your Roman home.

The familiar sounds of the bustling market were replaced by the soft, rustling leaves of the olive trees surrounding the villa- a gentle lulling of the world around you. The warm night air wrapped around you like a comforting shawl, but your heart lay heavy with anticipation.

General Marcus Acacius was returning from yet another raid, and you knew that the weariness etched on his face would accompany him like a shadow.

His salt-and-pepper hair had begun to glimmer under the fading light; it made him look dignified yet exhausted. You could almost picture the proud lift of his chin during battles, followed by the heavy stoop that would settle in upon his return- the price paid for valor.

As the sun finally surrendered to night, a rumble of footsteps echoed through the streets. A moment later, a familiar figure turned the corner, framed by the last hint of daylight.

Marcus. You held your breath as he stepped closer, a soft smile breaking through his fatigue. When his amber eyes met yours, they lit up, chasing away the weight of the world like the dawn banishing the stars.

"Ah, my heart.."

He murmured softly, the deep timbre of his voice wrapping around you like the warm embrace you longed for.

You rushed down the steps, your arms outstretched, and he enveloped you in his embrace.

The rich scent of earth and leather lingered on him, a fragrance that still made your heart race despite the countless times you had felt it against your skin. He pulled you closer, resting his chin atop your head as if that were the only place in the world he desired to be.

"How I have missed you.."

He whispered, a touch of sharpness in his voice. The warmth of his body contrasted sharply with the coolness of the evening.

"You are my anchor, my light that guides me back home."

You stepped back just enough to gaze into his eyes.

“You look tired, my dear.”

You replied, tracing the lines of his face with your fingertips. He chuckled softly, the sound a gentle rumble beneath your hands.

"Each raid takes a piece of me."

He said, sighing a little more heavily.

“But returning to you gifts me a thousand more.”

His fingers found their way into your hair, brushing it back from your face with tender care.

Marcus led you inside, his grip firm yet gentle, as he guided you through the cool, dimly lit villa. He paused only to light the oil lamps, casting a warm glow that flickered like fireflies dancing through the darkness.

The dining table was set for two- a simple yet intimate affair featuring bread, olives, and wine.

You watched as he sank into a chair, the weight of his armor still present even with it cast aside. There was a softness to him in these moments; the bearing of a general mingled with that of a weary traveler seeking solace.

You decided to serve him first, pouring a generous glass of wine and watching as his eyes closed in appreciation with each sip.

"You spoil me, beloved-"

He said, his voice still thick with exhaustion.

You laughed softly,

“Only because you deserve it. Now, tell me of your adventures. Give me stories that I can carry with me until your next return.”

He leaned in closer, his elbows resting on the table while one hand cupped your cheek.

“There was little of glory, love. Just endless days of marching under a sun that felt like fire and nights spent around a cruel campfire. All I could think of was you, waiting for me here.”

His lips brushed yours, tender and warm, filling you with a sweet warmth that spread through your chest. Your heart fluttered with every soft kiss, each one a promise of his return, a soothing balm to the worry that gnawed at you when he left.

“Marcus,”

You breathed, your fingers intertwining with his.

“You don’t need to fight so hard. You keep coming back with tales of valor, but I want to keep you safe.”

His gaze turned serious, and for a moment, you could see the soldier behind his sweet demeanor.

“I fight for our future,”

He replied, wiping a thumb across your cheek.

“I cannot lay down my sword completely while there are threats to our peace. But each victory is more than a conquest; it is a step closer to the life I want with you- a life unburdened by wars and strife.”

You moved to sit beside him, the subtle scent of olives and wine enveloping you both. The night wore on, filled with laughter and sweet whispers, promises of tomorrow, and the warmth that only a love like yours could nurture.

As Marcus rested his head against your shoulder, the weary general finally found peace, wrapped in the gentle embrace of the world he fought for.

It was here, under the glow of the flickering lamps, between tender kisses and whispered dreams, that he became not just a hero of Rome, but the man who was utterly yours.

Hello loves!! Hope y'all enjoyed this one. Also, sorry for a long hiatus, I'm back now sweeties <33 hope y'all are fine and well

Don’t forget, requests are always open and I can write for any character you’d like!

I love you guys so much <33

El <3

(all images were made by: El via canva & paint)

[absurdthirst]

YESSSSSSS

Headcanons for when the Pedro boys come home after a long trip and find out that reader has put on some weight? (Whiskey and Frankie are usually my favorites in these things 💖🥺🌸)

Coming Home To Find Out That You've Put On Weight:

**Female Reader

Javier Peña: He's not going to mention it. He's not stupid. He can tell you are a bit nervous, you tug your shirt down over the extra curves that you aren't happy with and you hesitate to get naked when he is trying to strip you down. He showers your neck and lips with extra kisses, pressing his aching cock against your soft stomach and growls that he has missed you and needs to be inside you. Gonna go a little harder with you though, more cushion for the pushing is the saying, right?

Ezra: Delighted. You haven't been living off bits bars and meager rations. Maybe a little greedy for the fact that he might get better meals than what he had been having since being away from you. Plus he is of the opinion that every form is beautiful; fat, thin, tall, short, it doesn't matter. Your cunt is still hot and clutches around him like a glove and in your arms, he finds the solace he craves.

Mando: Mando yearns for softness. Everything in his life is hard, unyielding. His armor, his creed, even his cot is hard as a rock. So when he comes back to the covert to find that you are softer, he loves it. You can't see his express, because the room is pitch black, but you can feel the eagerness of his touch. The moans even louder when he squeezes parts of you that are a little fleshier than before. It might be the quickest he's ever finished.

Frankie Morales: See, Frankie loves a thicker girl. Those thighs you hate? He loves them. They are soft and cushiony, a perfect place for him to lay his head down on while pretending to watch tv with you. He always falls asleep. That pooch over your pussy? Fucking loves it, constantly touching it. So when he was deployed for eight months and he came home to find that you had put on a little weight, it didn't bother him at all. He was still going to strip you down as soon as the kids were taking and nap and explore ever soft curve you have with glee and exhaust himself and you.

Pero Tovar: Another man who does not mind if your waist grows thicker or your body is softer. Pero loves it. It shows that you did not starve while he was away, a constant source of guilt and worry for him. He had left you enough coins to last and you had obviously been successful in your gardens and trapping animals like he had hoped. The weight you have added might have made you have to let our your dresses, but your tits are also bigger, so it's extra fun for Pero.

Max Phillips: Whistles when he sees you. For a moment, he thinks about making a sarcastic comment about the weight gain, but he can see that you are actually self conscious. Max might be an egotistical, vain prick, but he's not cruel to you. You are still sexy to him. "There's my little blood bag." He hums, sweeping you into his arms and kissing you before smelling your pulse. "You look good enough to eat." He growls playfully, even though you both know that he will feed off of you when he is done making you scream his name.

Agent Whiskey: Listen, this man can throw a grown ass man around with a whip, you think you gaining some weight is going to take the fun out of the rodeo? He doesn't give a shit what the number on the scale says, as long as you still ride his mustache and his cock, Jack Daniels will be a happy man. Plus, he likes the extra jiggle.

Marcus Pike: Understands completely. He's been talking to you on the phone, knows that you have been doing the quick and easy dinners and snacking more - he has too. He doesn't mind the extra weight, as long as you don't. If you complain about it, he will offer to go for walks at night when he gets home or go with you to the gym in the mornings before work. If you don't say a word, this man will just happily love you as you are.

Oberyn Martell: Immediately asks if you are carrying a child. He has been gone for two months and when he finds that there is weight on your stomach, he is smiling as he caresses your skin, hoping for another child. The only way this man is disappointed is when you tell him that you have had your bleeding consistently while he was away. Then he will pout. But only because there is not another Sand Snake on the way. Then he will just get busy making that happen.

Dave York: He's getting older and the fucking weight just doesn't come off like it used too. He hates running, unless he absolutely must, so it doesn't bother him. Not really. Does he have the stray thought that you weigh a little more when you're riding him? Yeah, but he knows better than to say that shit out loud.

Zach Wellison: Doesn't say a word. He notices, but it's not his place to say anything. He's been gone, and you've been doing everything yourself. He just kisses you and asks how you have been while he's been gone.

Dieter Bravo: Doesn't really recognize you put on weight. He's just happy you are still here when he gets home, and you want to fuck him. He's greedy and needy in bed all at the same time, but after the deed is over, he's soooooo comfortable cuddling into you that he calls you his new pillow and drifts off to sleep with a smile on his face.

Javi Gutierrez: He notices. He notices everything about you. It doesn't matter to him. You are still perfect. You are still the woman he adores. Coming back from filming his latest screenplay is a relief and he is over the moon to be reunited with you. His love for you is pure and real, it's not even going to matter if you gained weight to him. He just has more of you to love.

Max Lord: Max is one who loves appearances, so this is something that you worry yourself sick over. The 80s is a time where everyone wants to be supermodel thin and gaining weight is heavily frowned upon. So you are a wreck when Max comes home from the super secret trip that he had taken. Only to find that he is completely unaware that anything has changed. He's too focused on being successful.

Marcus Moreno: Doesn't care. Are you healthy? Are you happy? If not, then he will help you however you need. If you are, then he is happy. He loves you and completely understands that bodies change over time. He's not wearing the same size Heroic's tac vest he was a few years ago, and it's not because he's gotten smaller. He's still gonna find you irresistible and slap your ass when he walks by you in the kitchen every morning. Maybe even more so now.

Tim Rockford: All the evidence points to the new flavor of cookie you've discovered. It's a good cookie. Tim is just happy to be home, that case took way too long to solve and he just wants to curl around your thicker frame after he's made you cum and sleep for a week. He doesn't care about weight, he's home and the case is solved.

Joel Miller: Doesn't bother him a damn bit. You still fit into your clothes, although they are tighter. Joel cares about you, not what size you are. There are more important things to worry about as long as you are healthy.

Marcus Acacius: It's been two years since he has seen your face. The memory of your last kiss, the last time he made love to you, has carried him through the campaign that had taken so many Roman soldiers. You look gorgeous to his weary eyes, a safe harbor to take shelter in. The plumpness of your new body does not take away from the way he needs you. This is a man who is just happy to have come back home to you.

[xbeababyx]

Even when the night changes.🤍

[thefrogdalorian]

Din Djarin + Falling in Love Headcanons

You fall first (of course you do, have you seen him!) but Din falls harder.

It takes him a while though, the loss of his parents affected him so much that it takes a lot for him to open up let others in.

For a while after you first meet, you're not sure if he reciprocates your feelings towards him. But then something happens where you're placed in danger. The way it makes him feel (once he's killed a few people to ensure your safety) proves to himself that his feelings run deeper for you than he'd wanted to admit to himself.

If that hadn't happened, perhaps the two of you would've continued to skate around the topic for a while. You were too shy to bring things up and ruin your friendship, Din was convinced that you could never feel the same way about him.

After Din confesses his feelings, the first time you tell him that you love him too, he's so taken aback and flustered he replies something dorky like "wizard."

LOTS of blushing and nervousness the first time he takes his helmet off around you. He can't even make eye contact for a while after he takes it off because he's so shy. He has no idea how handsome he is, no one has ever complimented him on his looks before which you, of course, do plenty of. Making up for lost time, naturally.

You find his moustache adorable, that he keeps it so neat despite the fact that only he can see it due to his helmet. He tells you he keeps it because it's one of the few things he remembers about his father and you just about melt right then and there.

Obviously due to his Creed, he never kissed anyone before. So at first, it's kind of clumsy and you vow to be patient. But once he gets the hang of it, you never look back.

You know Din Djarin throws himself into anything he puts his mind to with nothing less than one hundred percent and BOY, was it worth you being so understanding with him.

Despite how most of the galaxy would view him as nothing but a tough bounty hunter, you feel honoured that you get to know the soft, caring man that he is beneath the Beskar shell. You never take it for granted how much he has opened up you since you first met him.

[baronessvonglitter]

Holiday Heat

Joel Miller x f!Reader | WC: 2.3K

Summary: Sharing a hotel room with a grumpy (and handsome) stranger while a storm makes travel inaccessible. What could possibly go wrong?

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. Only one bed/forced proximity trope (with a dash of sunshine x grumpy because we love a cantankerous Joel). Age gap (reader is in her 20s, Joel's in his 50s). Strangers to lovers. Oral (f receiving). Sleeping together to stay warm. Unprotected p in v. Fingering. Reader has very little description apart from having hair long enough to get in her eyes. No use of y/n. Please lmk if I've forgotten anything!

Author's note: It was my pleasure to step in to gift this fic to @frannyzooey for the @pedrostories Secret Santa exchange! I hope you had a great holiday and have a wonderful new year, hon! ❤️Also, huge shoutout to @pedrorascal who so generously created the ✨gorgeous✨ banner for this story!

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

Wind and snow roar outside as the taxi pulls up to the last motel for the next hundred miles. The driver doesn't dare to drive any further in the snowstorm, and offers to bring you to a place where you and your fellow passenger, a gruff, unsmiling man named Joel, to stay warm and have a roof over your head.

"This place is a shithole," he grumbles as you're pulled to a stop.

"It's quaint," you say, refusing to let his sour attitude ruin what's left of your holidays.

You're both heading home for the holidays: you're returning from your senior year at college and he reluctantly admitted he's returning home as well from an extended trip north to visit his brother.

Despite the fact that you're both Austin citizens just trying to get back to your loved ones, Joel remains a total grinch. You've had to endure this man the entire drive from DFW airport. He sat in the aisle across from you on the flight down from Nashville, sighing and making exasperated grunts every time a baby cried or a young person took a selfie. His legs jittered with impatience. You took pity on him and offered him a CBD gummy, hoping to ease whatever stress he was under but he brushed you off with an annoyed groan.

When you found out there were no connecting flights to Austin, you and Joel were the last in line for a car rental. And of course, the last one was rented out to a couple in line ahead of you.

You saw this as an opportunity to help your fellow man, especially as it was the holidays. But all Joel did was shrug when you offered to split a taxi to whichever hotel was closest.

"It's not the Hilton, but it'll do for tonight," you tell him, persisting in your sunny outlook, hoping it will catch on.

The bored-looking eighty-year-old man in the motel office tells you that due to high demand and the inclement weather, there's only one room left, with a single bed.

"We'll take it," you bounce on the chance, much to Joel's chagrin, offering your credit card. Your surly traveling companion offers to split the room, but not without complaint.

"No way in hell am I sleeping on the floor," he says as soon as he steps into the room. There's a stale stench of cigarettes that the cinnamon air freshener on the small round table can't mask.

"Of course you're not. We'll just.. divide the bed. I'm good at staying on my side."

"You'd better be. I don't need you grabbin' onto me in the middle of the night 'cause you're havin' a nightmare or somethin'."

"You wish." It's the only thing you tell him that has some sting behind it.

"Just don't steal all the blankets, sweetheart. Gonna need 'em with this deep freeze comin' through."

"I'm gonna shower first if that's all right with you. I need to warm up." You grab your pajamas from your bag.

"Don't use up all the hot water," he calls out before you close the bathroom door.

"If there's no hot water to spare we could shower together." You glance behind your shoulder, eager to see his reaction.

The look on Joel's face is priceless as he nearly chokes on his next breath. "What? Are you out of your mind? There's no way I'm showerin' with you!"

You grin. "Gotcha."

You step out, hair still damp, towel wrapped around you, shyly going back into the room. "I forgot my panties," you say softly, going to your bag.

Joel tries not to stare too much, but it's a challenge.

"Turn around," you tell him so you can have privacy.

"Go change in the bathroom."

"I had a hot shower, it's still humid. I can't get dressed in there. Just close your eyes."

He grunts but accedes to your request, leaning back against the headboard as he puts his hands over his eyes. His heart is pumping madly, listening to the rustle of clothes as you get changed. He tries to distract himself with other thoughts instead of wondering what the shape of your body looks like.

Relief is a brief respite before he sees what you're wearing to sleep. He thought you'd wear something comfortable and decent, like those fuzzy plaid pajamas girls your age like to wear during the holidays, but instead you're in an oversized t-shirt, the hem down to the middle of your thighs, revealing your bare legs. He puts a pillow on his lap to hide his growing erection.

You get onto your side of the bed. "The shower's free if you want it."

Joel swallows hard before he forces himself to think about something other than you in the bed with him. "Yeah, uh, thanks," he says gruffly, his voice strained. He quickly gets up, trying to hide his aroused state, and gathers his pajamas before he goes into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. For good measure he locks it.

"Get it together, Miller," he tells himself, splashing some cold water on his face. He can't deny the effect you have on him, but he also knows it's impossible to act on it. He barely knows you. You could have a boyfriend or a husband for all he knows, though there's no ring on your finger.

He showers, hoping to stay in as long as he can to avoid you. But it's a shitty motel after all, and soon he runs out of hot water and has to rinse the shampoo from his hair under the icy cold spray.

Dried off and clothed he steps back into the room and finds you on the bed, rubbing lotion onto your arms and legs. The sight nearly takes his breath away. He tries to look away but his eyes are drawn to your glistening skin.

"Good shower?" you ask, catching a whiff of his body wash, something fresh and woodsy. From lowered lashes you check out how he looks in his sweatpants.

"Yeah," he replies. "Outta hot water though. Since you used it all up."

You roll your eyes and go back to applying your lotion.

"Smells nice," he says, sitting close to you.

"Thanks. It's coconut."

The sweet scent hangs in the air as he watches you spread the white lotion across your skin, giving rise to lewd thoughts about what other thick white substances would go well on you. The coconut aroma, the sight of you touching yourself, the forced proximity and having to share a bed.. it's all sensory overload.

"I like coconut," his voice is thick with restraint.

Your hands stop and you hand him the bottle, your eyes meeting his in a silent understanding. "Will you help me?"

He takes the lotion from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours a moment. "Where do you want me to start?"

"My legs," you tell him, spreading them slightly as you lean back.

Heat pools in Joel's groin and he bites his lip to stifle a groan. He squeezes out some lotion onto his palm and kneads it into your shin and calf, his touch gentle but firm, lightly massaging. He spreads it up to your knee, brushing against the tickly spot right beneath and smirking when you try to stifle a sound.

"Feels nice," you eke out.

"Your skin is so smooth," he murmurs, eyes drinking in the sight of you looking both relaxed and wanting. His hands move over your thighs as they part and he realizes you're not wearing panties after all. His brain goes haywire for a moment, unsure if he should call attention to your undressed state or not.

The scent of your arousal reaches him, and he dares a glance between your thighs. His dick pulses when he sees the telltale sheen at the apex of your inner thighs. His eyes meet yours and there's a charge, a current that passes between you.

"You have no idea how much I want you right now," he rasps, his voice thick with desire.

It's too much, too fast, but the part of you that doesn't care wins out, falling for his low, silky remark.

"Joel.. put your mouth on me," you whisper, legs parting further, an open invitation.

His eyes darken to nearly black, all semblance of restraint breaks as he leans forward, his lips hovering just above your skin, his breath warm on your inner thighs. "As you wish, sugar," he rumbles, placing a soft kiss on your soft flesh. His kisses move higher and higher up, and he gently moves your legs over his shoulders as his kisses get more persistent.

A soft sigh escapes your lips as his hands find their way under your shirt, caressing the soft skin of your belly and the mounds of your breasts, your nipples hard in anticipation. Willfully trapped beneath him, you're at his mercy when he finally buries his face in your cunt, gripping your thighs to hold you in place.

His tongue runs over your soft, saturated folds, tasting you and listening to the sounds of your moans and gasps. He laps at your softly, then adding more pressure, dipping his tongue inside and swiping at your clit, teasing you just enough to get you screaming for more. A strange sense of tenderness surfaces among the lust of the moment as he brings you to life. There's no denying there's something inherently sweet and affectionate about the lascivious act.

Joel can't get enough of your taste, your smell, the way you feel against his mouth as you desperately grind against him. He's lost in the moment, his every sense consumed by you. Hearing you panting his name he hums against you, the vibrations adding to your pleasure, and he gladly licks up the nectar you gush out.

"Oh! Joel! Keep doing that!" you gasp, tugging at his greying locks. His mouth is hot against your pussy, tongue stiff and pointed, soft and wet. The pleasure seems neverending. Just when you think you know the pattern, he switches it up, licking harder or softer, tracing shapes with the tip of his tongue. "Please.. don't stop.. I'm gonna.."

Pleasure blossoms from within, too big to keep in, and you come apart beneath him.

There's a feeling of ownership, something dominant and masculine and protective in Joel as he works you through another one, his hips rutting against the bed in need of his own release. At last he moves over you, bodies pressed close as he kisses you for the first time. It's sweet and soft, the taste of you still on his tongue, tangy and sweet.

"Thank you," you sigh, your foreheads touching, breath mingling.

"No need to thank me, sweetheart," he says quietly, brushing loose strands of hair from your forehead.

You're still feeling the lingering traces of pleasure, but even you can feel the cold seeping into the room. "Get under the covers with me," you tell him, and giggle at the speed with which he pulled both of you under the western-themed duvet.

Clothes fly off, thrown over the sides of the bed, landing in haphazard piles. Joel slots himself between your legs again. Desire grows bright in him, making him feel like he's burning from the inside out, starving for the taste and feel of you.

Your body is a perfect fit for him, the glorious slide of his flesh into yours causing you both to cry out. He's completely sheathed within you, surrounded by your perfect, tight, wet heat. Thrusting slow at first, he watches your expressions, planting little kisses on your cheeks and eyelids, drinking up your moans as his tongue slips between your lips.

"More," you whisper as his lips graze your neck, gently biting your ear lobe, and you're rewarded with a more forceful pace as he spreads you open, angling your hips up to get in deeper, finding that sacred spot within that makes you see God. He plants one hand on the headboard above you for leverage as his other hand kneads your breast, tweaking your nipple as your own hands grip his sides, digging your nails in as you blissfully curse with each push of his hips.

"That's the spot, ain't it?" he grunts above you. "Right.. here."

Stars collide behind your eyes as he gently glides over your G-spot. His lips curve into a smile when you clench around him, but he slips out before he can come, replacing himself with three fingers. "Come on them, sweetheart. Come on my fingers then you can have my cock again."

You're lost in bliss as he glides his fingers in, curving to get that spongy spot, eager to make you scream. You bring your own fingers to your clit, gently pinching and rubbing until you feel your climax begin in your extremities, gathering pressure within until it's released, your orgasm shattering you with Joel's name on your lips.

He gives you a moment to come back before he lays down, letting you straddle him. Though he was just inside you, it's still a stretch to fit around him, and you slide down slowly before you're comfortable enough to start riding.

"There you go, darlin'," he murmurs, large hands on your hips. "Do what you need to do to come on my cock, baby."

In a delicious haze of pleasure you ride him, switching up the pace, going slow and deep before slamming down on him, making him groan as he tries to hold back. Your slick is pooling on his groin, coating his balls. Holding your hips steady he rams up into you, eager for you to come all over him again.

You're positively feral at this point, shaking and crying out as you come harder than any other time before, and Joel follows soon after, spilling inside of you, his dick twitching.

Hours later you're curled up together under the thick blankets, sharing and savoring what warmth you've generated.

"Thank god for this storm," Joel murmurs, holding your back close to his chest as he spoons you.

"That's the first positive outlook you've had all day," you smirk, snuggling against him.

dividers by @cafekitsune 👑

[littlcdarlin]

getting Joel's name tattooed

warnings: big age gap (unspecified), dom!Joel, Joel likes the idea of everyone seeing his name on you, oral (fem!receiving), praise kink, claim kink (?), Joel calls reader “kid”/“kiddo”

note: Here's just a quick something to distract you all from the fact that I haven't posted a oneshot in two months. Enjoy! (Also, don't get people's names tattooed on your body without asking them first, this could seriously backfire. Or do what you want, I'm not your mother.)

Joel doesn’t dislike tattoos, but he never really cared for them either — he’s not one to make a fuss about his looks and likes you best just the way you are (or so he thinks)

It’s been rough, convincing your parents Joel isn’t a pervert for being with you (he is a pervert, but they don’t have to know about that), and you know Joel finds it hard to just walk down the street with you, thinking he’s ruining your life with his age and the hateful looks it attracts

It never bothered you much, which you tell him again and again, and though he let’s it go after a while, there’s still the occasional You sure you want me pickin’ you up from that? when you have a work event or something else Joel deems himself unworthy of attending

It’s unlike you to do something this drastic, this permanent, but in a way, that’s what your relationship to Joel is — drastic and permanent. There’s no going back from it, you don’t think you’ll ever want anything else

So you make the appointment, send the artist the design you want, tell Joel you’re going for brunch with your friends, let him kiss you gently and wonder if he’d stop you walking out the door if he knew what you’re about to do

You choose the placement on your hip, because it’s inconspicuous enough not to fuel Joel’s guilt, because other people would rarely be able to see it, and because you know how much Joel likes having you in his lap, his wide palms caressing that very spot

When you get home, he’s in his workshop, glasses low on his nose, carving away at yet another farm animal — he says he does it because it’s soothing, but you have the suspicion he’s hoping one of these days his load will take, and there’ll be a child to play with those animals sooner than later

I’ve got a surprise for you, you tell him, your hands massaging his powerful shoulders, and he puts down his tool and glasses, giving you his full attention. You gotta promise not to get mad, though.

Better not be one of those sour candies you gave me last time, because my tongue hasn’t been the same since, Joel answers, but when he sees you chewing on your bottom lip, the amusement seeps out of his voice. Won’t get mad, kid, I promise.

You believe him — there hasn’t been an angry man in your home since you moved out of your childhood home — so you pop open the button of your skirt, staring down at Joel. He clears his throat. Definitely not gettin’ mad, he mumbles, watching your hands pulling down the fabric. It slides of easily, you were supposed to wear something lose, so as not to irritate your healing skin

Joel’s eyes go wide when he sees the tattoo, the small, artful letters right above the waistband of your panties: Joel. You watch him swallow, his hands coming up to your hips, not touching the tattoo, but holding you as if to examine you more closely

Fucking Christ, he swears, his thumb drawing absentminded circles on your skin, you can’t be serious, angel. You’re fuckin’ with me.

You tell him you aren’t, that you’re serious about this, about him and his claim on you.

But…people will see, he mutters, eyes still glued to your skin, the top of his head all salt n pepper from your perspective. I want them to, you answer, and Joel looks up. You can see he's starting to believe you when you tell him you're his forever.

Joel spreads his big hand over your hips, tugs you closer, so that his nose is almost brushing your skin, and before he can kiss it, you thread your fingers through his hair and pull his head away.

It's got to heal, you explain, and Joel seems like he doesn't care for a moment, like he wants to ravage you anyway and risk an infection, but then his expression softens, and he slips his thick fingers under the waistband of your cotton panties

Well, I'm gonna touch my girl anyway, he growls, and tugs your panties down, his mouth latching onto your skin almost immediately. His beard scratches over your tummy, as he kisses you all over, mouth hot and wet, and so insistent

His hands grip your flesh hard, as if to keep you from moving away, but he's careful not to touch the little artwork on your hip

When he finally grazes your clit with his teeth, carefully, softly, your hips buck and your knees almost give out, but he holds you up

You stay right where you are, kiddo, I'm not done with you, Joel says into the skin right above your mound, and this more than anything sets your tummy on fire. He knows you'll do whatever he says, treats you like you're his, because you are – branded proof of it is healing on your hip.

So you let him move a hand to your folds, two fingers gathering the slick mess that's beginning to pool there, his touch almost playful.

He sucks on your clit as he sinks two thick fingers into your heat, curling them and forcing you to stay upright, when you almost sink down onto his lap. He could touch you like this easily without you standing in front of him, the muscles in your thighs quivering, but when you look down, his eyes are glued to his name right next to his hand.

The pleasure he gives you is merciless, and you can't help whimpers from escaping your mouth as he curls his fingers repeatedly, more than he moves them in and out of you

Go on, sweetheart, but tell me who you belong to first, he drawls softly, making your stomach flutter and clench.

You, Joel, you moan, and with another practiced movement of his fingers, you're coming on Joel's hand, unravelling while standing up, your legs shaking but unable to give in with how tightly Joel is gripping you and holding you up

Good girl, he praises, and you flutter around him again, as he drags his fingers out of you slowly, eyes on your new tattoo

How long does that take to heal? I gotta coat it in my cum, baby

[pedrospookie]

Pookie’s Masterlist

Joel Miller

Don’t Look Back — Jackson!Joel Miller Angst

Eldest Daughter Reader Collection

Night Terrors — Jackson!Joel Miller X Eldest Daughter Reader — coming soon!

I Like You — Jackson!Joel Miller X Eldest Daughter Reader, fluff

Imagine — Jackson!Joel Miller X Eldest Daughter Reader, fluff

Agent Whiskey/Jack Daniels

I guess that’s why they call it the blues — Jack Daniels x f!reader, fluff

Your Song — Jack Daniels x f!reader, fluff

Javier Peña

I’ll be home for Christmas — Domestic!Javier Peña x f!reader — coming soon!

Javi Gutierrez

coming soon! - Javi G x f!reader

Dieter Bravo

fall from grace — coming soon!

Clint (Spooky Tales)

coming soon!

[perotovar]

Idk If You're Into A/B/O Dynamics But What Do You Think Pedro's Characters Are? To Me They All Feel Like Betas

oooh, i am! i'm really into the monsterfucking/omegaverse stuff, but i'm sort of picky about it lol i'm not always a huge fan of the gender roles or stereotypes, but sometimes the horny just takes over lol

however, i don't think they're all betas, personally. i think there's a range tbh and if you don't mind, i'll talk about my personal headcanons?

ppcu x omegaverse headcanons:

the alphas - now, i may have put some of pedro's more ""masculine"" characters in this list, but i also see a lot of them as like, parental. they're the protectors and caretakers.

Dave York Pero Tovar Joel Miller Clint Frankie Morales Jack Daniels General Acacius Max Phillips Marcus Moreno Veracruz Din Djarin Tim Rockford Silva

the betas - i see these as like, more fluid. they can sort of go into either camp imo. i have my own headcanons for omegaverse dynamics so things are little more malleable in my head.

Ezra Oberyn Martell Marcus Pike Javier Peña Harry Castillo Reed Richards Lucien de Leon Shane Morrissey

the omegas - this isn't because i see these characters as ""weaker"" or any bullshit like that, it's honestly just vibes lol and they seem like they'd thrive under praise and being taken care of, imo

Javi Gutierrez Dieter Bravo Maxwell Lord Santos Nico

obv i'm not the leader or rule maker here lol i'd love to talk more about this tbh and hear other perspectives!

EDIT: here's a fun post if you're interested in more of this topic! A/B/O for Dummies