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pedroshotwifey · 1 day

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Dirty Daddy

Dbf/daddy!Joel x f!reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 2,489

Summary: Congratulations, you've just earned yourself a daddy, albeit not for being a good girl.

Warnings: 18+, unprotected p in v, light consensual choking, light slapping, oral receiving m!&f!, fingering, implied age gap, mentions of the names 'slut, brat, babygirl, sweetheart, good girl, and daddy', Joel's all greasy and sweaty.

Notes: it was this picture that inspired this along with part of a request I received that I'm writing a different daddy!fic for. Tysm @saradika-graphics for the divider

Joel groans as he tightens a bolt on his truck, sweat drips down his forehead and mixes with the dirt and grease that cover his face and hands. He's been working on this truck for hours, ever since it broke down on him during a job, his last job of the day. He could be home relaxing. Instead, he's here. Luckily for him, his buddy, your dad offered him the use of his garage to work on it, and Joel gladly accepted. It wasn't often that he got the chance to work on his baby, and he wasn't going to let a little thing like a broken engine get in his way.

But as he stands up and stretches his aching back, he can't help but feel a twinge of annoyance. It isn't just the truck that’s been giving him trouble - it’s you, who's been teasing him mercilessly since he arrived. Wearing those skimpy clothes, that short fucking skirt, that leaves little to the imagination, bending over in front of him and "accidentally" brushing up against him as you walk by. Joel's been trying to ignore you, but it's getting harder and harder to do so.

As if on cue, you walk into the garage with a smirk on your face. "Hey Joel, need any help?" You ask, leaning over the open hood, letting your cleavage do most of the talking.

Joel grits his teeth as he looks up straight at your breasts and then quickly back down to the engine. "No, I got it.” he says as he looks up once more only to see you pouting, but Joel can see the spark in your eye. You're enjoying this, you fucking minx.

"Come on, Joel. I'm just trying to help." You reach up to adjust yourself on the hood of the truck, giving him a clearer view of your breasts that are now pretty much popping out of your top. You catch his gaze and smirk, knowing exactly what you're doing to him. You hop down and start touching his arm, “cmon, I can help, I'll hold the flashlight or something.”

Joel snaps, dropping the tool he's holding, and pushes you roughly against the nearest free wall. His grip is tight around your arms despite being all greased up from his truck. "I know what you're doin'," he growls, "And it ain't gonna work."

You can see the fire in his eyes, and you know you've pushed him too far. But instead of backing down, you challenge him. "What are you gonna do about it?"

Joel's eyes narrow, and you can see the tension building in his muscles. "I'm warnin’ you," he says, his voice gets deeper and quieter. "Stop, or you're gonna get a lot more than you bargained for."

"Is that a promise?" you ask.

Joel's eyes go dark, and he grabs your face roughly, his dirty fingers grasping into the hollows of your cheeks, pulling you close, leaving his musky, grimy scent on you. "You have no idea what you're gettin’ yourself into, do ya?” Joel's grip on your face tightens as he leans in closer, his breath hot on your face. "You think you're being clever, huh? Lemme tell ya something, sweetheart. You're playin with fire, and you're gonna get burned."

You can feel the heat radiating off of Joel's body, and you know he's serious. But instead of being afraid, you're turned on. You've never seen this side of Joel before, and you can't help but feel yourself getting wet.

Without warning, Joel grabs you by the waist and pins you harder against the wall as he grinds himself against you, his hardness pressing into your core. "This whatcha want babygirl?" His lips brush against your ear. "You've been teasin' me all day, I think it's my turn to have a little fun now."

You moan as Joel's hands roam over your body, roughly groping your breasts and ass, leaving dark stains across your clothes. You can feel his cock straining against his pants, and you can't wait to feel him inside of you.

"Please," you whimper, "I need it."

Joel smirks as he pulls away from you. "Beggin already?" He says, 'That ain’t like you."

He reaches down and unzips his pants, pulling out his long, hard cock and starts to stroke it. "On your knees," he commands.

You don't hesitate, sinking to your knees in front of him. You take his cock in your hand, stroking it gently as you look up at him with wide, pleading eyes. Joel's eyes darken as he grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling your head towards his cock. "Open wide, and don't fuckin’ bite."

You comply, opening your mouth wide as Joel slides his cock inside. You moan as you feel him hit the back of your throat, your tongue swirling around his shaft as you suck him off.

Joel groans as he fucks your mouth, his hips thrusting forward as he pounds into the very back of your throat. You can feel his cock swelling inside of you, every vein hitting your tongue.

"Such a good little slut, suckin my cock like a pro."

You moan around his cock, your pussy getting wetter with every thrust.

"M’gonna come baby, and you're gonna swallow every last drop."

You nod eagerly, your mouth still wrapped around his cock. Joel groans as he explodes inside of you, his hot seed filling your mouth as you swallow every last drop just like he said. He pulls out, his cock still hard as he looks down at you with a satisfied smirk. "Good girl, you earned that."

Joel takes a moment to catch his breath before he walks over and starts to clear off the workbench. He pushes aside tools and spare parts, making enough space for you. Once he's satisfied, he turns to you with a stern look in his eyes. "Get up here," he commands, patting the now-clear space on the workbench.

You don't hesitate, hopping up onto the bench and spreading your legs wide for him. Joel steps between your thighs, his hands gripping your hips as he pulls you closer to the edge. "You've been a brat all day, teasin' me and temptin me," his fingers dig into your skin.

Joel's gaze is intense as he looks at you. His eyes are filled with desire and a hint of something darker. He leans in closer, his breath is hot on your skin as he starts to kiss a trail down your body, his lips leave a burning sensation in their wake.

His hands roam over your body, roughly groping anything he can as he continues to kiss and nip at your skin. You can feel his facial hair scratching against your sensitive flesh, and it sends shivers down your spine.

When he reaches your thighs, Joel smirks and spreads your legs wider, exposing your wet and aching core to his gaze and no panties - you drive him crazy. "You've been teasin' me all day, s’only fair. I get to taste what I've been missin.” He looks up at you, his eyes filled with lust as he leans in closer, his breath hot on your pussy. Without warning, Joel starts to lick and suck at your clit, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bundle of nerves as he teases you. You moan loudly, your hips bucking up towards his mouth as you try to get closer to him.

Joel's fingers dig into your hips, holding you in place as his tongue delves deeper, exploring every inch of your pussy, sucking and licks at your wetness. Lapping it up like a thirsty dog. He continues to feast on your pussy, his tongue exploring every inch of your wetness as you moan and writhe beneath him. Just as you feel yourself getting close to the edge, Joel pulls away, leaving you wanting and needy.

"Uh-uh I ain't done with ya."

You whimper in frustration, and your hips buck up towards him as you try to get him to continue. But Joel is in control, and he's not going to let you come that easily. He stands up and looks down at you. You can see the hardness of his cock that's been tucked back into his jeans, and you know he's just as turned on as you are.

Joel reaches down and helps you off the workbench, his grip on you is firm as he leads you towards the door of the garage. "We're gonna finish this in your bedroom.”

Your body is still tingling with desire as you follow him out of the garage and towards your house.

As you reach the door of your house, Joel turns to you with a serious look in his eyes. "We gotta be quiet, go make sure the coast is clear.”

You quickly and quietly make your way through the house, checking each room to make sure no one is around. When you reach your father's office, you see that he's deeply engrossed in his work, completely unaware of what's happening just a few feet away.

You give Joel a quick nod, signaling that the coast is clear. Joel grabs your hand and leads you up the stairs to your bedroom, his grip firm, and reassuring. When you reach your bedroom, Joel pushes you inside and closes the door behind you, locking it to ensure that no one will interrupt you.

Joel looks around your bedroom, his eyes taking in the familiar surroundings. He turns to you, "Take off your clothes," he commands.

You hesitate for a moment, your hands hovering over your shirt. But the look in Joel's eyes tells you that he's not in the mood for games. As you slip out of your shirt, Joel's eyes rake over your body, taking in the lacy bra that barely covers your breasts.

"Keep goin,"

As you slip out of your jeans, Joel's eyes follow the movement, taking in the curve of your hips and the softness of your thighs.

"Take it all off baby," he commands.

You comply, slipping out of your bra and panties, leaving you completely naked in front of him.

Joel undresses himself, his movements quick and efficient. He pulls off his shirt, revealing the hard muscles of his chest and arms. His jeans follow, revealing the long and hard cock that's been tucked away, waiting so patiently for you.

You can't help but stare as Joel undresses, your eyes taking in the dirt and grease that cover his body. He's been working on his truck all day, and the evidence is clear on his skin.

"Like whatcha see, babygirl?"

You nod, unable to speak as you take in the sight of him. Joel steps closer to you, his hands reaching out to touch your body. His fingers leave dark stains across your skin, the evidence of his work still present.

He lays you down on the bed, and his body hovers over yours. His hands roam over your body. His touch is rough, but there's a tenderness to it that drives you crazy.

He leans down to kiss you, his lips rough against yours. His tongue delves into your mouth, exploring every inch as he tastes you. You can taste yourself on his lips, a reminder of what he's done to you.

Joel's hand moves between your legs, his fingers exploring your throbbing clit. He teases you, his fingers circling your clit but never quite touching it. You moan into his mouth, your hips bucking up towards his hand.

"Please, Joel," you beg, "I need to come."

But Joel is relentless, continuing to tease you just like you did to him, as he watches you squirm beneath him. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your orgasm building deep inside of you.

“Joel,” you whine, “don't be an asshole, let me come.”

Joel chuckles and gives you a light but sobering smack to the cheek. “You don't get to be a little brat and get your way - Beg for it.”

"Fuck you-," you whimper, your voice trembling with need. "Please daddy.”

Joel's eyes blaze as he hears you call him Daddy. He increases the pressure on your clit, his fingers moving faster and harder as he brings you closer to the edge again, he can feel it. "You like that, babygirl?" his breath is hot as he leans close to your ear. "You like it when Daddy teases you?”

“Mmm, yes daddy yes. Feels s-so good.”

Joel can't hold back any longer. He positions himself between your legs, his cock pressing against your wet and aching core. He looks down at you, his eyes filled with lust and something darker. He growls as he thrusts his hips forward, burying himself deep inside of you.

You moan loudly as you feel him fill you up, your pussy stretching to accommodate his ever growing, ever hardening size. Joel starts to move, his hips thrusting forward as he pounds into you. Each thrust is harder than the last, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

Joel's hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he fucks you. His fingers dig into your skin. You can feel his cock swelling inside of you, every vein hitting your sensitive flesh.

"You like it when Daddy fucks ya like the dirty little brat you are?"

You moan in response, your hips buck up to meet his thrusts. You can feel your orgasm building deep inside of you. “Want you to choke me daddy, please.”

Joel doesn't hesitate, he pulls out of you and flips you onto your stomach. He grabs your hair, pulling your head back as he wraps his other hand around your throat, cutting off your airway just enough to make you feel lightheaded.

You moan as you feel his cock press against your entrance once again. He thrusts forward, filling you up completely. He starts to fuck you hard and fast, his hips slapping against your ass as he pounds into you.

You can feel your orgasm building once again, your body tensing up as you get closer and closer to the edge. "Not yet, babygirl, fuck - wanna come with ya.” Joel increases his pace. His thrusts become erratic as he feels your pussy clenching around his cock, your orgasm just on the edge.

"Come for me, baby," Joel commands.

Your moans are muffled and strained as you feel yourself fall over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave. You can feel your pussy clenching around Joel's cock, milking him for all he's worth.

Joel groans as he feels you come, his hips thrusting forward as he empties himself inside of you. He collapses beside you, his body spent and satisfied.

As he catches his breath, Joel looks at you with a satisfied smirk. "Next time you pull that shit, babygirl, I ain't gonna letcha come."

#tbr

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pedroshotwifey · 1 day

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the mark they saw on my collarbone

➔ post-outbreak Joel Miller x afab!Reader // series masterlist

➔ 4.4k words

➔ Joel’s instincts kick in when he runs into an omega in trouble along a smuggling route.

➔ Rated MA // a/b/o dynamics and the associated gender politics (alpha!joel and omega!reader), heavy dom/sub dynamics, unprotected piv sex, creampie, fingering, oral (reader receiving), biting/marking, blood, size kink, joel calls reader little one/little thing, mention of reader being food-insecure, alpha!tommy and alpha!tess are here briefly. takes place one year post-outbreak.

➔ this reader insert character: has female anatomy, no pronouns used, is generally able-bodied, is mentioned to be smaller/shorter than joel and can fit into his jacket, is otherwise a blank slate.

Tess’s face perks up halfway over a fallen tree–she stops in her tracks to tilt her nose into the wind. “You smell that?”

Of course Joel smells it. His senses were alerted to it about half a mile ago; he’s always had the better nose. He’s been trying to ignore it, however. There’s no point to giving into temptation in this shattered world, no matter how sweet the scent.

“Whew,” Tommy huffs, wrinkling his nose at the heavy pheromones that now drift around the trio. “Whoever it is, they’re closer than comfortable.”

“Smells like they’re in trouble,” Tess posits–always the thoughtful one. Always wanting to have faith in humanity, no matter how many reasons the last year has given her to lose hope. “That’s an omega. If not in full out heat, then damn near close to it.”

“Ain’t no way there’s an omega out on their own in these woods,” Joel growls. “It’s a trap.”

Tess shoots him a look–worried, stern. “What if it’s not?”

“It is.” He doesn’t even entertain the idea. There’s no way anything is left untainted in this world.

But with every step forward, the scent gets stronger and Joel’s resolve grows weaker. Your scent is so sweet. It reminds him of springtime in Austin, the little yellow sour grass buds and picnics in the park with…

The scar on his temple gives a single little throb, and he forces himself to focus up. They’ve got a clear destination, a contact to meet outside the Atlanta QZ. He needs to keep his head in the game and out of the past. Dwelling on that, on what the world was merely a year ago, is fucking pointless. No matter how much he hopes, how much he dreams, how much he begs and pleads to a god he never really believed in to begin with, nothing brings her back.

The scent makes his stomach churn the stronger it gets. It’s not like any omega he’s ever known before. They’ve all been… a little bitter. Or maybe his ex just left a tainted trace in his nose, spoiled it for everyone else. He’s never needed a partner to feel complete, anyway. Being a father is what gives him purpose. Gave him purpose.

He pushes that train of thought from mind, sets his jaw, and marches on.

The funny thing is, they’ve spent a lot of time in these woods–Tess, Tommy, and him. For as close to the QZ as it is, they’ve never met a single other soul in these parts.

That’s why, when Joel senses your pheromones only getting stronger as they forge on, he thinks about saying something. They’re headed straight towards you, into what must be a trap. The Atlanta QZ doesn’t take omegas; there’s no reason one should be so close. If he was smart, he’d make sure that the group avoids you at all costs. But there’s a deep, primal part of him that forces him to keep his mouth shut just as he’s about to open it and suggest rerouting their journey. He wants to investigate, to find out if you’re really as sweet as you smell.

He can tell Tommy and Tess are thinking along the same lines, and it makes his teeth grit together, eyes pinched in frustration. There’s an underlying possessiveness in every further stride he takes, eyes boring into the backs of his pack members’ heads while he takes position at the rear of the group.

This is why people used to say that alphas couldn’t work together, he realizes. Not that it’s ever been an issue for him before–but he’s never smelled an omega he’s wanted so much before, either. Tommy was always the tail-chaser, before everything went to shit; he was constantly getting himself into trouble, and Joel would constantly bail him out. And Tess… he’s never met an alpha quite like her. He’s never seen her with an omega, either; never bothered asking if she had one before the outbreak. But she’s compassionate, if a bit tough. She doesn’t seem like the main threat right now.

This is what he’s always hated about these god-forsaken roles. He watches Tommy’s pace pick up a little, sees the younger Miller’s nose tilt ever-so-slightly to the wind, and in this moment he sees his own brother as a threat. That’s something that should never have had to happen. But a pack of three, and all alphas… it was bound to happen sooner or later. Maybe they’ve all been fooling themselves.

It’s been great for them thus far, being able to use each other when necessary without fear of repercussions, but there also hasn’t been an omega in the picture yet. Now, with heavy pheromones swirling invisibly between the three of them, a subtle and silent struggle for dominance starts to rear its ugly head.

The scent only grows stronger, and it makes Joel worry. It’s heady, damn near overwhelming. Joel’s never witnessed an omega so close to heat without actually being in heat. The pull of your pheromones is dangerous–it’ll draw in every alpha within a range of miles, maybe even some from the QZ with how close you are. The range will only grow once your heat actually breaks out. The pack is heading directly towards the source of great danger, and all three of them know it. Even still, all three of them are powerless to stop it.

Joel spots you first. You’re nestled under a tree, sound asleep, half-camouflaged by a blanket of orange and brown leaves. You’re gorgeous, there’s no other way to describe you, and with your pheromones flooding his senses it’s nearly impossible for him to hold back from approaching you.

He reaches out a quick hand and grabs his brother’s arm just as he’s about to step towards you.

“Don’t,” Joel growls from deep in his chest. His eyes dart around quickly, searching every inch of autumn foliage for some sign of the trap this must be. They’ve heard about this exact kind of trap before, and Joel mentally curses himself for falling right into it despite knowing better.

Hardly any unmarked omegas survived outbreak day. Many of the few that did were captured by large groups of malicious betas and put into traps, their heats used to lure in alphas who were then exterminated en masse. Joel and his pack have been lucky not to encounter such a trap yet, but everyone’s luck runs out eventually.

They stand, they watch you, and they wait for the other boot to drop.

But it doesn’t. You sleep peacefully, albeit squirming a little bit, and no one else comes. There’s nothing but the sound of birds chirping in the distance and wind rustling the bare branches of the trees overhead.

All of a sudden, you wake. Your entire body jolts, nostrils flaring at the heavy and suddenly overwhelming scent of alpha. Your beautiful eyes widen with fear, and Joel sees you're about to make a break for it.

Without thinking, he steps forward and holds a hand out in front of him–a sign of goodwill. “Easy, omega. We ain’t gonna hurtcha.”

Your chest heaves with panting breaths, but you don’t move yet. You’re smart, he thinks. You know you can’t outrun all three of them.

“You’re in a spot a’trouble,” Joel continues, trying to make his voice as gentle as possible as he takes another tiny step closer to you. “Could smell your heat comin’ on from miles away. What’s a li’l thing like you doin’ out in the woods all alone?”

“Going to the QZ.” There’s a firmness behind your tone–how brave you are, he thinks. And how stupid.

“Where you comin’ from?” He asks–prying, but gently.

You look apprehensive, but you answer anyway. “Tennessee.”

“Didn’t do your research, did you sweetheart?” He grumbles as gently as he can. “Atlanta don’t take omegas. You go there, ‘specially in the state you’re in, you’ll be shot on sight.”

He can almost see the gears turning in your head, albeit slowly given your state; you’re wondering if he’s really telling the truth, if you can really trust him. You’re wondering why he hasn’t leaped at you yet.

You gulp and plant your hands in the dirt at your sides as if you’re getting ready to stand, but you don’t move yet.

Tommy takes a quick step forward, and Joel sees the way you flinch at the sharp crack of a twig underneath the younger Miller’s boot.

“Joel–”

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls, a little harsher than he means to. “Don’t you fuckin’ move, Tommy. I mean it.”

“Please don’t hurt me,” you whisper, hardly louder than the breeze. And then he sees it–the first pang of heat, your face screwing up in pain and your body squirming uncomfortably on the forest floor. You try not to show it, but Joel catches it anyway. Your heat is here, and his instincts take over.

“Fuck off,” he snarls, stepping firmly between Tommy and you. Tess steps forward, mouth agape in some mixture of shock and confusion, and Joel swivels his burning gaze to her. “Both of you. Fuck off. Go on ahead to Atlanta, I’ll meet up with you there.”

Tess doesn’t look affected, just concerned. “Joel, what the–”

“Go!” He roars. There’s no room for argument, even though Tommy opens his mouth like he might try. In the end, they know there’s no winning. Not right now, not with Joel’s pheromones rising and his eyes so dark. They hesitate just a moment, slowly back away, and then finally admit defeat and vanish into the trees.

Once they’re gone, you don’t try to hide your pain as much. A whimper escapes your lips as you squeeze your thighs together and all pretense falls away.

“You okay, little one?” He drops to his knees beside you so he can give you a better look. It’s clear that the road you’ve traveled has not been easy on you–he’s amazed you’ve survived as long as you have all on your own. You’re disheveled and dirty, maybe even worse off than he is. You look like you haven’t eaten in days, and the simple t-shirt covering you isn’t nearly warm enough to protect you from the chill riding in on the late autumn breeze.

Joel’s quick to rip his jacket off and drape it around your trembling shoulders–he feels a strange surge of pride when you quickly pull the fabric tightly around you and nuzzle your face into the collar for a deep inhale of his scent.

“Talk to me, omega.” His voice is deep, demanding. “You doin’ okay? What can I do to help?”

“Alpha…” Your voice is so quiet, and all he wants is to take you into his arms. But now of all times is not the time to be hasty. As much as he wants you, he refuses to take advantage of you.

“It hurts, alpha,” you continue quietly.

“I know, baby.” The sweet ting of southern accent in his voice seeps into your very veins and warms you from head to toe with each rapid thump of your heart. “How can I help?”

You reach a shaky hand towards him and he meets you halfway, marveling at how small your hand is compared to his paw. He never really considered himself a big guy until this moment, seeing you so small and helpless beside him. Clearly it’s affecting you too–he sees the way your thighs clench tightly together the second he touches you.

“I trust you,” you murmur so sweetly.

For a moment, he considers running. He’s done horrible things with the hands that now hold you so gently. He’s not one to be trusted. He’ll only end up hurting you.

“Your scent’s gonna draw more alphas in, baby,” he coos deeply. “There’s a whole QZ fullav’em just a couple miles away. It ain’t safe to be out in the open like this.”

But there’s no logic or reason left in your gaze–you nuzzle your face into his neck so you can inhale his scent straight from the source, and Joel knows there’s only one way this ends without some worse alpha coming along and hurting or killing you.

“Need you, alpha,” you plead as shiny tears fill your pretty eyes. “Please, it hurts so bad.”

Joel wonders if this is your first heat–it sure seems like it. You’ve probably been on suppressants since the day you presented. Every bone in his body screams for you; screams to take your pain away, to soothe you with his own body, to make you his.

He’s never felt so much like an alpha as he does in this moment, when your heat gets the better of you and you fuze your mouth to his in a searing kiss.

Joel actually moans into your mouth. It’s deep and a little louder than he means to be, caught off guard by the suddenness of the kiss but even more by how sweet you taste. Your scent didn’t do you justice, really. He’s never gotten addicted to someone from their kiss alone before, and yet just as suddenly as it started he needs more. He needs to devour you whole, to claim every inch of you until there’s nothing left for anyone else. Even as he licks into your mouth and easily takes control of your mouth with his tongue, he knows this is going to end badly. He also knows that he doesn’t care.

“Sweet little thing,” he coos as he tugs you to straddle his lap. You can feel the insistent press of his hardening bulge against your core, and you grind down so hard he hisses. “Easy baby, I gotcha.”

“Alpha, please…”

“Gotta have some patience, omega,” he tells you firmly. “I’ll take care’a ya, but I gotta getcha ready first. Don’t wanna hurtcha.”

You kind of want it to hurt, you kind of want him to burn himself into your very soul, but you don’t say as much out loud. You probably couldn’t form the words anyway–all that comes from your mouth is a needy little whimper.

“Hush, omega, you’re okay,” he whispers into your ear as he lays you back against the fallen leaves, one hand carefully cushioning your head while the other pulls your thigh open so he can slot himself between your legs. “M’gonna make it all better, just gotta be good f’me.”

“Alpha…” You feel the first ounce of relief as he drags your jeans and underwear down your legs in one smooth motion. Your burning skin is met with cool air and it feels incredible. Nearly as incredible as the sensation of his kisses tracing down your body, even through the fabric of your t-shirt that he leaves in place because he doesn’t want you getting cold no matter how much it feels like you might spontaneously combust if you don’t feel him inside you soon.

“You’re gonna be good for me, arentcha?” He hums against the hem of your t-shirt, just above where you so desperately need him.

“Yes, alpha,” you breathe as politely as you can manage.

His lips latch onto your clit as soon as the words have left your mouth. He knows exactly what you need–none of that torturous rapid flicking that you’ve experienced in the past but firm, honest-to-god, get-the-job-done suction.

He slips a finger into your dripping entrance and it’s honestly amazing that you don’t come right on the spot. Just that one thick finger is a stretch–it makes you arch your hips up off the ground, desperate to get away from the onslaught of pleasure and yet simultaneously wanting more.

“I know, sweetie,” he coos against your clit, slowly curling his finger until he finds the spot that makes your thighs tremble. “Feels good, doesn’it?”

“Y-yes, oh my–”

He throws all pretense out the window and adds two more fingers, filling you to your breaking point. You shatter without warning as he increases the pressure on your clit, thighs quivering and hips bucking pathetically as your warmth coats his chin. Your entire body wracks as he works you through it, fingers curling against your g-spot as his lips mercifully release your clit with an obscene pop.

“That’s right, baby,” he coos proudly. “So good f’me.”

You’re panting as you come down, satisfied for one beautiful moment even as he pulls his fingers from you so he can kiss his way back up to your mouth.

He slots between your legs so he can lick into your mouth again, and the taste of your own pleasure on his tongue makes everything come crashing back down. Your cunt clenches hard around nothing, and you groan out in pain and need for him.

He grunts when your legs lock around his sturdy waist, feet pressing into his ass to grind his heavy, jean-clad cock into your soaked folds. He moans from the very pit of his stomach, surprised at the sudden movement–and then he presses even harder, grinding himself so firmly against your cunt that you swear you can feel the outline of his mushroom head even through the layers of clothing he still wears.

“Tell me you want this, omega,” he pants into your ear, still pressed so tightly to you as he reaches down to tug his belt open. “Tell me to fuck you.”

“Please, alpha.” You’re trying so hard not to sound whiny, but you’re failing miserably. “Please fuck me.”

Joel simply adores how sweetly you ask for what you need. God, he doesn’t even know your name, but it’s taking everything in him not to claim you for the rest of eternity.

Would that really be so bad? Clearly you’re a survivor if you’ve made it this far, and as an omega no less. You could be a valuable addition to the pack.

But really, it’s the thought of having you as a home to come back to that gets him tugging his cock out of his jeans to the symphony of your quiet moans and pleas. He thinks about having a lovingly-crafted nest and the sweetest, tightest cunt he’s ever known waiting for him at the end of a long day, and it takes everything in him not to blow his load right then and there.

He knows he doesn’t deserve this, but he’s willing to be selfish anyway. Just this once.

“Holy shit,” you gasp when you look down and see the firm length of him, barely contained in his big hand. He’s thick and weeping precum, tip stained a dark maroon from sitting in his jeans untouched this long. He’s nothing like the betas you entertained yourself with before the outbreak–you’ve never even really seen an alpha’s cock in person, and certainly none this large.

He must see the apprehension in your gaze, because he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger so he can raise your face to meet his dark, brooding eyes. “You tell me if it hurts, okay? Don’t wanna hurt you, wanna help you feel better.”

You don’t know why, but you trust him. So you nod, and you tug him into a deep kiss.

The first press of him into your waiting core has your mouth dropping open, head pressing back into the hand that cups the back of your head. He keeps you pressed so firmly against his entire body as he inches in. He’s so attentive, pulling back to watch your face for any sign of discomfort as he rocks his hips, pushing an inch deeper with every shallow thrust until the base of him settles as tightly against you as he can.

He doesn’t find anything in your expression other than pure euphoria.

He kisses you, breathless and messy, as he wills himself to stay still while fully sheathed in your tight heat. Damn it all, he’s fighting so hard for control. He’s never had someone squeeze him so perfectly, so warmly. Your cunt is pure, unadulterated heaven.

“A-alpha,” you whine once you’re ready, but he can’t move. Not yet. You’re his omega, he needs to take care of you, and he’s far too close to spilling himself deep inside your cunt and pressing even deeper so his knot can take root. He could never live with himself if he disappointed you like that.

“Please, alpha,” you try again, and the unrelenting need is what does him in. You need him, not just anyone. No one else could satisfy you how he does–he’s sure of it.

With the first true thrust of his hips, a wave of pheromones rushes over his senses. He basks in the scent of you, nearly high on it, and then the danger of this comes crashing back to him.

He thrusts deep, makes your toes curl and your chest heave, and he asks a weighted question as the pace continues. “This your first heat?”

You nod your head, barely even able to process his words. “R-ran out of s-suppressants.”

Fuck. He knew it. You don’t even seem to realize the danger, the calling card that you’re putting on display for every alpha within a ten mile radius. It’s a miracle that no one has shown up–everyone in Atlanta is probably wise to the trap scheme, luckily. But luck runs out eventually, and someone’s going to end up taking a chance for your delectable scent.

“Others’re gonna smell you, omega,” he growls as he grinds deep. “Ain’t safe to be unmarked out here. They’ll come f’ya.”

The pleasure is unbearable–toe-curling, blood-boiling, thigh-quaking. All you can do is sob and whine as his big cock fucks into you and hits exactly the right spot with every thrust.

“Gotta mark ya,” he continues quietly. “Only way to keep you safe, baby.”

You come out of your reverie a little bit at that; but deep down, you know he’s right. The only way you’ve been able to survive so long was a stockpile of suppressants you were lucky enough to get your hands on. But they’re gone, and with them your chances of surviving much longer. Unless you let this stranger mark you–the most intimate gesture possible.

“Okay,” you breathe against his neck. “Mark me.”

Your cunt clenches unbearably tight around his shaft as his teeth dig sharply into the base of your neck. Your taste floods his mouth, heady and warm–in combination with your legs locked around his waist, he can’t stop it. He’s coming before he can warn you, hot ropes of seed coating every inch of you, seemingly endless. And then, without thinking, he presses that little bit deeper so his knot can fill you to your limit.

You sob at the sensation, nails digging into his shirt-clad back in a feeble attempt to tamp down the overload of pleasure at the sudden stretch of his thick knot in your tight cunt.

“Fuckfuckfuck–” he growls into your bitten neck, grinding himself as deep as he can as his cock pulses within your tight walls. “Oh fuck omega, I’m sorry–”

You hush him to the best of your breathless ability as your hands smooth through his sweaty brown hair and down over his shoulders. “It’s okay. It’s okay, alpha. You made it so much better.”

There’s a long moment of silence, Joel’s mind swirling with so many thoughts that he can’t focus on a single one. You coax him through it silently, hands smoothing over the fabric of his shirt as your breathing slowly comes.

You’ve never felt so full, so complete. His scent surrounds you and fills you; nothing has ever felt quite so right.

You realize vaguely that he’s licking the blood from the teeth marks on your neck, and you think now’s as good a time as any to give him your name.

He looks up at you, confused for a moment, and then a warm laugh bubbles from his throat. God, he can’t remember the last time he actually laughed. What are you doing to him?

“Joel Miller,” he introduces himself back. “M’sorry, I shoulda started with that.”

His arms are getting shaky from supporting his weight above you, so he grabs firmly onto your waist and rolls smoothly onto his back with you rested snugly against his chest.

“M’sorry,” he repeats again as he feels his swollen knot pulse within you at the slight movement of your hips. “I meant to pull out, I–”

“I wanted it,” you tell him. “I wouldn’t let you. I’m sorry too.”

He gulps, nods once as a hand idly comes up to cradle your head. “I’ve got a guy in the QZ. He can get us a pill. But we’ve gotta be more careful next time.”

“Next time?”

“That was just the first round, baby,” he explains quietly. “Heats can last days, even a week. You’ll need a lot more care ‘fore it’s over.”

“Oh.” You feel so dumb, getting your education from someone whose knot is currently swollen inside you.

“We’ll get a pill,” he promises. “And I’ll pull out next time.”

“You’re… not leaving?” You’ve tried so hard not to have any false pretenses about this. You figured from the get go that he’d leave as soon as his knot went down and you’d never see him again.

He sighs heavily and runs a hand over the patchy brown hair on his chin. “Look, I… you met the rest’a my pack earlier, sorta. There’s just the three of us. We’re not good people, but… we’ll keep you safe. And you seem like you’re able to earn your keep.”

“I am,” you’re quick to assert.

“And I’ve marked you,” he adds. “Can’t just leave ya out here to fend for yourself. You’re my omega now.”

You don’t know why, but the words make your heart flutter.

You and Joel catch up to Tommy and Tess at the edge of the QZ, just in time for the meeting with their contact. Joel had explained to you on the way that it was an old acquaintance, a guy they’d met in Texas shortly after the outbreak who they’d worked with for a few months before he joined up with FEDRA. Now he sneaks supplies out to them in exchange for rarities from the other QZs.

That’s what the pack does, Joel had explained. They’re smugglers–they distribute things illegally between all the different continental quarantine zones.

Tommy and Tess see the two of you coming, and they’re instantly on guard. It only gets worse when Tommy recognizes the brown leather jacket wrapped tightly around your torso to shield you from the breeze.

“Joel.”

Joel tries to ignore Tommy’s call, but there’s not much he can do.

“Joel, what the fuck’ve you done?”

Joel supposes Tommy’s outrage is justified, but he shields you from it anyway. Truth be told, he doesn’t rightly know just what he’s gotten himself into with you.

#tbr

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pedroshotwifey · 1 day

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#tlou #im cooked 😭

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pedroshotwifey · 1 day

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LMAO

The switch 😭

Love u babe

To the Flame chapter fourteen

Series masterlist

Pairing: Dark!Javier Peña x afab!reader

Chapter w/c: 2.7k

Chapter warnings: physical abuse, manipulation, mental abuse, Javi being a dick, toxic relationship, alcohol consumption, mild description of injury, mentions of noncon, emotional distress, anxiety attacks, this is fucked, please just go in with caution

Chapter Summary: Is this the beginning of the end?

A/N: hey, y’all! Another chapter that hits pretty close to home for me, as I’m sure a lot of the upcoming ones will. A lot of emotions in this one! Please always remember that I am here for anyone who would like to talk ❤️

*****

You don’t get out of bed for the majority of the next day.

When you first wake, you feel like you’re being crushed by an overwhelming weight of emotion. It pushes you down and strips you until you’re bare and gasping for air, making you writhe and whimper in pain. And then it just stops. And you don’t feel sad, or scared, or anything else. Just void and numb. Like your body isn’t yours and your mind is in a far away place that you don’t dare attempt to reach.

The curtains are down, leaving the bedroom a dark and quiet place. Perfect to lay in bed, unfeeling and alone. It gives you nothing to focus on, so you instead hone in on the stickiness of your wet cheeks and the throbbing of your sore eyes. The sensation of your crumbling heart, though, you push it far, far away and leave it to rest.

It’s Monday, so you know Javi’s gone to work, but you have no idea what time it is. You don’t want to get up to look, and you don’t want to think about your husband. Fuck, your husband. Tears sting your eyes and start to overflow, but you’re not consciously doing it. It’s like your very soul is confused and is causing your body to react in every way you wish it wouldn’t. At the thought of him, the uncomfortable ache between your legs makes itself known. It fucking hurts and it makes you feel pathetic, though you don’t understand why. You just know that there's an underlying feeling of shame crawling uncomfortably beneath your skin.

You want to wash it away—all the shame and hurt and confusion you won’t allow to surface. You want to get in the shower and scrub your skin until it burns. You want to drown his scent, his touch, the memory of his hands, his body on top of yours. But you don’t, you can’t. You can’t move from the place you’re already drowning in.

You lay in the dark and silently sob, not doing anything to wipe the tears as they run down into your hairline because you know that there will just be more. You cry until your eyes hurt and your breathing starts to smooth out again, until you’re lulled back asleep by the wracks of your body. It feels like a cruel trick from the darkness, but you let it take you willingly. Anything to escape this nightmarish reality.

It’s probably only a couple of hours later when you wake up again to the silence. But this time, the first thing out of your mouth is a frustrated and strangled sob. Anger warms your entire body as you throw the blanket off without thinking. You’re not really sure where the aggression comes from or what it’s directed to, so you just blame it on yourself for being weak. For waking up and crying and giving up. You want to kick yourself and tell yourself to just suck it the fuck up.

But you can’t, so you instead slam the bedroom door open and stomp into the kitchen. Another heave leaves your lips as you enter the threshold, this one closer to a scream as tears escape you and your stomach twists painfully at the reminder of last night. Your knees give out, leaving you to sink down onto the freshly tiled floor. You soak in your anger and your hatred, and it’s unlike anything you’ve felt before. It fully consumes you, making you tremble with the force of it and your teeth grind as you try and fail to bite it down.

Your hands come up and thread through your hair, pulling tightly and close to the base, but more to ground you than to pull any strands out. You can’t fall into a panic attack here, you may not come out. Javi’s the only one who can save you from that, and he’s not here. You give yourself two minutes to collect yourself, though you’re still not all the way there as you force yourself up and push toward the medicine drawer.

With rough movements, you pull it open, snatch up the melatonin, and shakily pour four tablets into your palm. You shove them into your mouth and swallow them dry, wanting them to kick in as soon as possible. You start to screw the lid back on, but it doesn’t thread right, and you make a sound of frustration again as you say ‘fuck it’ and just shove it back onto the counter, pills spilling all over the place. You go straight back to bed, pulling the blanket up and letting yourself cry back to sleep.

The third time, you wake in a panic, your body shaking in an aggressive and unnatural way. Your eyes snap open and find that the light is turned on, and it’s only once you feel a harsh grip on both of your arms that you comprehend someone shaking you awake. Your first instinct is to push back on the bed, struggling to get away, but the hold gets tighter as the person yells something that you can’t understand yet in your current state.

“How many did you fucking take?” Javi demands, his face coming close to yours. Tears are already leaking from your eyes as you meet his gaze, your voice stuck in your throat. You wish they would go away. It seems like it’s impossible to be awake without them accompanying you.

“W-What?” you manage to squeeze out. He’s stopped shaking you, but he looks angry. No, not just angry, you realize as your heart contracts painfully in your chest. He looks scared.

“The pills, how many did you fucking take?”

Your head just shakes as you try to catch up.

“How fucking many?” He does jolt you this time, bringing you even closer. He starts to drag you off of the bed, and his fingers dig in so hard that they hurt. You yelp and jump up, trying to ease the strain. It only hits you once your feet hit the ground, what he could possibly be talking about.

“F-Four!” you spit. “I took four!”

He stops talking but his jaw stays set as he looks you up and down like he’s both assessing your well-being and deciding something detrimental. Your lip trembles as he looks into your eyes, and you know that the only reason you’re standing right now is because of the support of his rough hands. But you still try to back away as he brings you closer and embraces you. But it doesn’t feel right. Whereas your body used to fit together with his, it’s now like something chipped away, leaving a jagged gap. It feels so fucking wrong.

You let him hold you for a moment before you speak. And when you do, you’re not quite sure where it comes from. You think that the words were bouncing around in your head, but you didn’t want to actually say them, you didn’t try. But they come out—quiet and trembling—but they do.

“Let me go.” It’s spoken almost incoherently into his chest, but he goes still all the same. He doesn’t attempt to loosen his grip.

“Javi,” you say, more confident than you figured it would be. You think it might be the anger coming forward and holding you up, lifting your voice higher. “Let me go.”

He loosens up slowly, but keeps you in his grasp as he steps back just enough to look into your wet eyes. “What did you just say to me?”

Anger bubbles up even more, causing you to boil over.

“I said let me the fuck go,” you seethe, matching his firey gaze. You pull one arm away from him and he snatches you back quicker than you can blink. You’re flipped onto your stomach and your front half is pinned to the bed in a flash.

“Let me fucking go!” you yell and thrash, fear creeping up alongside your fury. Javi’s heavy body covers yours, his grunt spilling into your ear as he uses all his weight to keep you between him and the mattress, defenseless and unable to move. The more you squirm, the tighter he holds you, his grip crushing to the point where you cry out in pain.

He doesn’t relent until you stop struggling, and instead lay there and pant like a feral dog being forced down for a shot. His chest heaves against your back from his efforts as his hot breath fans across the side of your face. You smell a faint tinge of alcohol, but you don’t think it’s much. He must have not been home for too long. Maybe just enough for one or two beers before he saw the pills or grew curious about your absence.

“There’s something you need to understand, sweetheart,” he says quietly and so calmly that it sends a shiver down your sweaty spine. He waits to make sure you don’t have anything to say before he continues. “I’m in charge here, and you need to get that inside your dumb little head.”

Your stomach drops with dread, your eyelids fluttering as you resist the urge to close them. Whatever part of your heart that hadn’t cracked and bruised within the last few weeks, just fell apart. You’re overcome by a sudden surge of grief, the only thing racing through your mind just keeps repeating to you that your husband is gone, lost for good. You’re alone and you’ll never see him again. Your body trembles, and Javi must recognize it as submission.

“Everything I do is for you, whether you like it or not,” he growls. “You need to start showing some fucking respect about it.”

You both lay there for a while, and it’s like you’re seeing it from the outside. A scared woman being pulled apart from the inside by the shell of the man who once gave her everything. She doesn’t know where he went, nor what happened for him to leave, but she knows that she’ll, too, never be the same.

When Javi gets back up, you stay exactly where he left you. You’re not crying anymore, but you think it’s because you’re finally out of tears. Come to think of it, you don’t remember the last time you drank something. Your body is probably incredibly dehydrated.

“I’m going to make dinner,” Javi tells you from the doorway. “Get yourself together and be at the table in half an hour.”

You nod shallowly into the mattress, not looking at him, not looking at anything as he walks away. You don’t wait long before you numbly drag yourself into the shower, locking the bathroom door for the first time since you’ve been living with Javi. You strip, avoiding the mirror, and then crawl into the shower and just sit in the hot stream for a moment. It’s almost a little too hot, but you don’t pay too much attention to it.

All of your energy goes into clearing your mind. You don’t want to fucking think, you just want it to stop. You let the water wash it all away; the grief, the fear, the ache, the sadness, the pain, the lingering hope and happiness that doesn’t seem to get the hint that it’s no longer welcome here.

The next thing you now, you’re back out of the shower, your hair and body scrubbed clean. You’re towelling your wet breasts off, trying not to think about anybody else's hands on them. You never want to be touched again, now that your body has been tainted and defiled. You feel broken and disgusting.

You jump when the doorknob rattles, your heart racing as you clutch the towel close to you. There’s a quiet sigh and then a gentle knock from the other side.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?”

Your legs wobble as your vision blurs. He sounds so normal that it fucking kills you. He sounds like your husband, caring and concerned. You forget to answer, stuck all alone inside your head.

“Sweetheart?” No response comes from your lips. “I’m coming in,” he tells you. And you don’t protest, because that hope that you’d tried so hard to scrub away has somehow lingered and clung to your battered heart.

The door starts to unlock and slowly open, and you take a step back to make room. When it’s open all the way, you catch the eyes of your husband standing in the doorway. He watches you with sympathy and something you clock as regret. He opens his arms and gives you a barely-there smile. It doesn’t reach his sad eyes, but it conveys what he’s trying to say. I’m sorry, please forgive me.

You bolt forward, immediately sobbing into his chest as he wraps his arms around you. You want to hate yourself for how quickly you give in, but you can’t. A different person, you tell yourself. You soak up the attention he’s giving you, relief flooding your very bones as you accept his embrace. His chin comes down to rest on your head as he holds you tightly and shushes you.

“I know, baby,” he whispers. “I know.”

He pets your hair and brings you into the bedroom, helping you sit down on the bed as you sniffle and attempt to dry your tears. He goes to the dresser and then comes back with one of his T-shirts and a pair of your underwear and pajama shorts. You calm down as you stand and let him dress you, savoring the calmness that’s filled the air.

When you’re dressed, he leads you into the kitchen, where he has what smells like chicken noodle soup warming on the stovetop. You sit down at the table as he makes you a bowl and brings it over to you along with a glass of water, of which you quickly gulp down half of. Your mouth waters at the smell, your empty stomach grumbling. He hands you your spoon, places a kiss to the top of your head, and takes the seat across from you.

You eat in silence, allowing yourself to sink back into your body. The soup warms you and you find it easier to relax. The meal is spent in a comfortable silence, and Javi waits for you to finish your bowl before he talks again.

“I invited Steve and Connie for dinner next weekend.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. You’d thought he didn’t like them.

“Do you think you could make dinner Sunday night? I can pick something up, but I think they’d both be lucky to try your cooking,” he winks at you, a smile playing at his lips.

Your cheeks heat slightly and you avoid his gaze as you smile as well, pride swelling in your chest. “Yeah, I can do that,” you tell him. “What would you like?”

“Whatever you feel like, sweetheart.”

You nod and get up to get another small bowl of soup. When you turn back to the table, he motions for you to come toward him.

“C’mere, baby,” he pleads, pushing his chair out so you have room to sit on his lap. Your heart jumps to your throat out of reflex, but you walk toward him anyway, trying to quell your anxiety as you lower yourself on to him. He waits for you to get comfortable, your legs dangling off of one side of his lap. He nuzzles his face into your cheek as his hand grips your waist, and your breath hitches.

“I hope you forgive me for earlier, baby,” he whispers. “I know I was rough. I was just so scared.”

You lean back slightly to look at him, at the vulnerability in his eyes. You don’t even think about what happened in the bedroom as you tell him, “It’s okay, Javi. I forgive you.” You give him a weak smile and cup one side of his jaw, stroking the light stubble there.

“I meant it, though,” he says gently. “I’ll always do what’s best for you, and I’m sorry if you don’t like that sometimes.”

You swallow, ignoring the lump in your throat as you nod. “It’s okay,” you assure him, though your voice is barely even a whisper. You hold as still as you can as Javi leans forward and presses a barely-there kiss to your lips. He doesn’t linger, and a part of you is extremely thankful for that.

“Alright, baby,” he says, his lips tickling your jaw. “Go ahead and finish your soup.”

You nod and pick up your spoon.

******

Lmk if anyone would like to be added or taken off of the taglist!

Series taglist: @corazondebeskar @yorksgirl @nerdieforpedro @axshadows @melaninmommy @survivingandenduring @kewwrites @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff @callachloe @missladym1981 @sofiparallel @koshkaj-blog @sheepdogchick3 @movievillainess721 @jessie8605 @casa-boiardi @justlulu @iamsherlocked-1998 @hjzghi-blog @glitterymanboy @letstalkaboutshtufff

#dark!fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #dead dove do not eat #dark fic #fan fiction #ao3 #pedro pascal smut #smut #pedro pascal fanfiction

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pedroshotwifey · 1 day

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Thank you! ❤️

To the Flame chapter fourteen

Series masterlist

Pairing: Dark!Javier Peña x afab!reader

Chapter w/c: 2.7k

Chapter Summary: Is this the beginning of the end?

*****

You don’t get out of bed for the majority of the next day.

“W-What?” you manage to squeeze out. He’s stopped shaking you, but he looks angry. No, not just angry, you realize as your heart contracts painfully in your chest. He looks scared.

“The pills, how many did you fucking take?”

Your head just shakes as you try to catch up.

“F-Four!” you spit. “I took four!”

“Let me go.” It’s spoken almost incoherently into his chest, but he goes still all the same. He doesn’t attempt to loosen his grip.

“Javi,” you say, more confident than you figured it would be. You think it might be the anger coming forward and holding you up, lifting your voice higher. “Let me go.”

He loosens up slowly, but keeps you in his grasp as he steps back just enough to look into your wet eyes. “What did you just say to me?”

Anger bubbles up even more, causing you to boil over.

“Everything I do is for you, whether you like it or not,” he growls. “You need to start showing some fucking respect about it.”

“I’m going to make dinner,” Javi tells you from the doorway. “Get yourself together and be at the table in half an hour.”

You jump when the doorknob rattles, your heart racing as you clutch the towel close to you. There’s a quiet sigh and then a gentle knock from the other side.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?”

Your legs wobble as your vision blurs. He sounds so normal that it fucking kills you. He sounds like your husband, caring and concerned. You forget to answer, stuck all alone inside your head.

“I know, baby,” he whispers. “I know.”

“I invited Steve and Connie for dinner next weekend.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. You’d thought he didn’t like them.

“Do you think you could make dinner Sunday night? I can pick something up, but I think they’d both be lucky to try your cooking,” he winks at you, a smile playing at his lips.

Your cheeks heat slightly and you avoid his gaze as you smile as well, pride swelling in your chest. “Yeah, I can do that,” you tell him. “What would you like?”

“Whatever you feel like, sweetheart.”

You nod and get up to get another small bowl of soup. When you turn back to the table, he motions for you to come toward him.

“I hope you forgive me for earlier, baby,” he whispers. “I know I was rough. I was just so scared.”

“I meant it, though,” he says gently. “I’ll always do what’s best for you, and I’m sorry if you don’t like that sometimes.”

“Alright, baby,” he says, his lips tickling your jaw. “Go ahead and finish your soup.”

You nod and pick up your spoon.

******

Lmk if anyone would like to be added or taken off of the taglist!

#pedro pascal #fan fiction #ao3 #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal characters #smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #dark fic #dead dove do not eat #dddne

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pedroshotwifey · 1 day

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What color hair do you have?

My hair is like a dirty blonde! It started almost golden when I was younger, and has gotten more brown with age 💕

#ty for the ask baby

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pedroshotwifey · 1 day

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Edit Note: I'm really amazed by how much love this post got. Guess it just shows we're all in the same boat. Never give up writing! ❤️

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pedroshotwifey · 2 days

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Haunted by Beyonce and Joel Miller

ily x

Hey, baby! Hope you like it xoxo

Song: Haunted by Beyoncé

Pairing: QZ!Joel Miller x afab!reader

W/C: 974

Warnings: toxic relationship, slapping, rough sex, manhandling, unprotected piv sex, choking, mean joel, mean reader, hate sex, stalking (kind of?)

Haunted

You’ve been watching him since the break off. Not a break up, because you were never really together, but a break off because you both know whatever you had shouldn’t be happening. The rough and feral sex, the toxic quips, the pain and anger channeled through each other’s bodies. Working nine to five every day just to stay alive, and then coming home to beat your misery and frustration into each other’s broken and battered souls.

It was never love, never sweet affection or time taken to check in. No pleasantries or time spent without his cock inside of you or your hands ripping and tearing at clothes and skin. Just fury and pure need. You and Joel Miller do not like each other, which is why it’s so unfortunate to be addicted to each other’s bodies.

You watch him walk down his hall now, and you can see the difference in his posture. The tension in his shoulders and the clench of his fist. You know that if you looked into his eyes, you would see a fire burning, yearning for destruction and pain—destruction and pain that he no longer has you to unleash within.

You’ve been following him like a shadow, your body drawn to his in a primal way. And you know that he’s been following you, too. You’ve been haunting him, and he’s been haunting you. You’re onto him, you know that he must be onto you, too.

You’ve ignored it—resisted it—enough. You start to stride after him. You don’t stop, unafraid to let your quick steps be heard, and you can tell the exact second he recognises them. He keeps walking, but instead of going further down to his room, he stops in front of your door, keeping his back to you.

There are no words said, no glances exchanged, as you reach him and unlock the door. You open it to let him in, and then step inside yourself. He pins you to the door the second it shuts behind you, one hand wrapping threateningly around your throat as the other comes down across your cheek, forcing your face to the side. He brings his face level with yours, less than an inch between you. Hatred burns in his eyes, and you’re sure he can see it reflecting in your own.

You surge forward and hungrily seize his lips in yours, your hands coming to pull at the shirt over his broad shoulders, gripping so tightly that you think you may rip the worn fabric. His teeth sink into your bottom lip, and you growl into him, tasting blood as you keep devouring him.

He rips you from the door and manhandles you over to the couch, throwing you down and then unbuckling his belt. You work on your own pants, getting them off right before he grabs you again and flips you over. You grip the arm of the couch, lifting your ass for him.

He uses one hand to grasp your hip in a bruising grip, tugging you back as he lines the blunt tip of his cock up with your entrance. You let out a strangled groan when he shoves into you with two quick thrusts, the stretch making you grit your teeth. It hurts, but it feels so good. A comforting kind of pain.

He starts to slam into you at a brutal pace, his pelvis against your ass stinging with each thrust. He wraps his hand around the front of your neck again, cutting off your air flow just enough to make you light-headed. You know that it’ll hurt in the morning, but you also know that you’ll savor it.

You get close quickly, as you usually do with him inside of you. Like your body’s been programmed to have such a response. You come around him just as he releases your throat and the air rushes back. Your head drops between your shoulders as you moan, your cunt squeezing around him and making him grunt.

When you come down and gain some semblance of control over yourself, you push back on his hands, forcing him to let you go as you pull yourself off of his cock. He doesn’t protest—he knows what you’re doing. He moves to sit back and then waits until you climb over him, your hips on either side of his.

You sink down on him quickly, your toes curling and your head throwing back when he slams into your cervix. His hands grip your ass and your own go to his face, one around his neck like he had done with you, and the other to his hair, tugging roughly to force him to watch you as you bounce on his cock, the drag of him against your slick walls making you keen.

He holds your gaze, hatred laying thick in the damp air. Your clit rubs against his stomach in this position, stimulating you and starting to build another orgasm. You pull tighter on his hair with every lift of your hips, but he doesn’t flinch even as his dick twitches with the sting.

You snarl as you come, your insides melting as you fall apart on top of him. He comes a second later with a similar expression. You ride out your orgasm, grinding slowly as he empties his load into your pussy, where it belongs.

You don’t waste time to catch your breath before you pull off of him, his limp cock sliding out in a mess. He doesn’t wait either before he gets up and tucks his wet dick into his pants. You lay back on the couch and watch as he makes his way to the door, where he lingers for only a second.

“This is the last time,” he says before shutting the door behind him.

You both know it won’t be.

*****

I walk down the hallway You're lucky The bedroom's my runway Slap me! I'm pinned to the doorway Kiss, bite

It's what you do It's what you see I know if I'm haunting you You must be haunting me

#pedro pascal #fan fiction #pedro pascal smut #ao3 #smut #pedro pascal characters #joel miller #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #toxic relationship #rough kink #fic request #beyonce #music #mean joel

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pedroshotwifey · 2 days

Text

It's Never Too Late Masterlist

Summary: You are an elementary school teacher who just moved to Texas for a fresh start when you meet a very handsome man from the Laredo Sheriff's Department coming to give your class a presentation.

After your co-workers pull some strings for you to meet again, you and Javier Peña find yourselves falling head over heels for each other.

Story takes place post Narcos Season 3 in Laredo, Texas, starting May 1997.

Paring: Javier Peña x OFC (Reader is an elementary school teacher whose nickname is Osita, no use of y/n)

Warnings: SMUT (18+ chapters containing marked with * and each chapter will also have its own warnings), language, fluff, romantic comedy, reader has physical descriptions, Javi being so soft and getting all the love and affection he deserves, you two being the biggest weirdos so in love

Status: Ongoing

Let me know if you want to be added to a tag list for new chapters as they come out! :)

Main Story:

Chapter 1: I D.A.R.E. You

Chapter 2: What's Cookin', Good Lookin'?

Chapter 3: I Wanna Be With You Everywhere*

Chapter 4: Add You To My List*

Chapter 5: You're The One That I Want*

Chapter 6: Dinosaurs, Dates and Diners, Oh My!*

Chapter 7: School's Out for Summer*

Chapter 8: My Favorite Cowboy*

Chapter 8.5: 007- Peña, Agent Peña*

Chapter 9: I Promise*

Chapter 10: Happy Birthday, Javi*

Pt. 1*

Pt. 2*

Chapter 11: Abe Froman, Sausage King of Chicago *

Chapter 12: I Love You. I Know. *

Chapter 13: There's No Place Like Home*

Chapter 14: Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas*

Chapter 15: She Shoots, She Scores*

Chapter 16: The Lone Star State*

Chapter 17: No Ifs, Ands, Or Butts*

Chapter 18: Hole in None*

Chapter 19: Good Luck, and Goodnight*

Chapter 20: I Do

Pt. 1*

Pt. 2*

Spin-Off Series:

Forever and Always*: Slices of life following the Peña family after their first child

One Shots (In chronological order of the main storyline):

Movie Night*

Dirty Laundry*

Again*

You're My Home*

Not Yet*

Happy Valentine's Day, Javier Peña*

The Mouse and the Motorcycle

You Make Life Worth It

Take Me Home

Plaid Pajama Morning

Agent Peña*

Every Inch*

Soup for Breakfast

Whatever My Wife Wants*

Oh, Baby

Peanut Butter and Pickles

Asks/Headcannons:

Javi and Osita before work

Javi's DEA Jacket

Javi's Tac Vest

Javi and Osita when they argue

Javi being distractingly cute

Javi when he's sick

Osita when she's pregnant

Osita after a bad day at work

Javi coming home after work to his kids

Extras:

NSFW Alphabet- Javi and Osita

1K Followers Celebration Asks and Answers

Never Too Late Playlist

Mood board

#tbr

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pedroshotwifey · 2 days

Text

God is a Woman

summary: Max Phillips has been trying to fuck you since the moment you met. It surprises him when you want to fuck him. (Or pegging Max Phillips)

rating: E (18+! No y/n, pegging (anal fingering & anal sex), blow jobs, vaginal fingering, come eating, dirty talk, praise kink, (1) bite (surprisingly not Max), kink negotiation, sexting, Asshole Max Phillips, Switch Max Phillips, Soft Max Phillips, Protective Max Phillips, boss/employee, Max using an excessive amount of emojis in his texts, some feelings, some comedy, alcohol, mentions of murder and an uncomfy situation with a creepy coworker (no details))

pairing: Max Phillips/f!reader

word count: 6.7k+

a/n: There are screenshots of texts because I felt it was essential to see the ridiculousness that is Max’s obsession with emojis. Lmao, I put a lot of effort into it. Anyways, this is self-indulgent. I wanted to peg Max, listened to spicy audio of a man getting pegged for inspo, and here we are. This will be two parts. Shoutout and thanks to the love of my life, @juletheghoul, for betaing and enjoying this as much as me.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Part 2 - Masterlist

The workweek had been hectic, and you were thankful it was finally Friday. Being the assistant to Max Phillips was a lot in normal circumstances with his cocky attitude, constant advances, and crudeness. Add in him handling two big account presentations in the same week, and you more than earned the bottle of wine you’d opened.

You were lounging on your couch, wearing your comfiest pajamas, and sipping on your largest glass of wine while watching the latest episode of a reality television show you knew was absolute trash but absolutely loved—living for the ridiculous drama and all of the absurd craziness, thanking the universe that your life was pretty tame in comparison, vampires being real besides the point.

Your phone buzzed on the coffee table in front of you, the screen lighting up to show you had a text. You leaned forward to pick it up, quickly unlocking the screen to pull up the message.

You sighed as you read the two words, honestly surprised it didn’t say, ‘U up?’

Since day one, Max had been trying to get into your pants, and since day one, you’d declined. You thought he was handsome—those expressive brown eyes, and pouty lips, the beautiful curve of his nose, and sharp jawline, not to mention he looked really fucking good in a suit. Once you got past his obnoxiousness, he was sexy, but you didn’t feel like being another one of his conquests, you didn’t want to be another notch in his belt before he moved on to the next. So, you put up with him, ignoring his advances and lingering stares at your tits, and did your job exceptionally well, the two of you somewhat friendly.

Your thumb tapped out your response.

You: No. If this has to do with work, I’m off the clock.

You snorted.

You: Then text Jennifer in accounting.

The week prior, you’d accidentally walked into his office to find him fucking her on his desk. You’d like to say that was the first time something like that had happened, but it wasn’t. You were pretty sure he’d slept with everyone on the payroll except you.

You took a sip of your wine.

You: Who’s fault is that?

You were so used to saying that sentence you’d typed it without a second thought.

You snorted again, absolutely doubting that was true.

You: You’re really looking for someone to cuddle? Why?

There it was.

You: I’ll have a heated blanket delivered to you.

You chewed on your lip before taking a big gulp from your glass, leaning forward to set it down on the table, and moving to get comfortable on the couch again.

His request was stuck in your brain, thinking it over and how it could all play out. It had been a literal hell of a week, and you wanted to decompress—one thing on your mind you knew would help, but you’d need a willing partner, and Max was definitely interested in you sexually… Would he be interested, was the real question. A couple of things gave you the courage to ask. Namely, the half a glass of wine you’d drunk as well as being horny. Primarily, though, you’d blame the alcohol.

You: Are you firm on no sex?

You rolled your eyes.

You: You want body heat? There’s something I want.

Max started replying right away.

“Good god,” you whispered to yourself, staring at the string of emojis, trying to decipher their meanings. “I’m really this desperate.”

On the bright side, he was a vampire, which meant you didn’t have to worry about STDs or pregnancy—since they were technically dead, there was no live sperm, and they were immune to diseases. You were honestly thankful he was undead with how many people you knew off the top of your head he’d fucked.

You tapped at your phone.

You: Actually, I want to fuck you.

Max: Did my emojis not convey I’m DTF?

You: You didn’t list what I wanted.

His replies came fast.

You thumbed your response quickly to clarify.

There was a pause. You saw the dots appearing and disappearing. Seconds passed, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you waited.

The dots disappeared, and finally, messages started appearing.

You rolled your eyes again.

He was so full of himself.

You: I’m firm, and if you’ve never done it before, I’d ease you into it. Promise to make it really good for you.

Another pause, like he was thinking.

Finally, he started replying.

You deflated, huffing out a breath as you locked your screen and tossed the phone onto the coffee table, grabbing your wine. You’d just have to use your vibrator when you finally got into bed. That’d be fine. You took a drink, focusing back on your show.

Some minutes passed, and your phone buzzed again. You moved to grab it, unlocking it and pulling up your messages.

You grinned, setting down your glass, and sitting back into the cushions.

Max: Will it hurt?

You: It shouldn’t. I’d start with my fingers while sucking your dick.

You: Yes. Have your cock in my mouth while I slip in a finger. Suck you off, and use my fingers to make you come really hard.

His response was almost immediate.

He replied.

You sent him your address.

Excitement was pooling in your belly, getting up to put the wine away and chug the rest of your glass. You took a quick shower and slipped your satin robe over your naked body, not seeing a point in putting on anything else.

You opened your closet, getting into the large chest hidden in the back, grabbing what you needed—lube, harness, dildos, clean towel—thankful you’d trimmed and filed your nails the day before, a coat of lavender-colored polish painted on them.

Everything was placed on your giant king-sized bed towards an edge where it was out of the way but still within reach. One of the bedside lamps was turned on to give the room some ambiance.

You weren’t entirely sure what to expect—you weren’t entirely sure if Max had the ability to let you be in control. You’d find out, and he seemed eager to give it all a shot.

Three quick knocks sounded against your front door, and you immediately headed towards it, tightening your robe as you walked. You quickly undid the locks and pulled it open, finding Max leaning against the doorframe in a white v-neck and grey sweats, your eyes spotting the noticeable outline of his dick, arousal stirring in your belly.

Your eyes met his, a smirk on those perfect plush lips of his.

“Is it true I have to invite you in?” You asked. “Like, I have to explicitly give you permission, or else some mystical force keeps you outside?” You leaned into the door, your hand still on the knob.

“Yes,” Max sighed. “Protection barriers or some shit, homes being sanctuaries from malevolent creatures,” he huffed, mildly annoyed.

Your eyebrow rose.

“Are you malevolent, Max?”

The face he gave you could rival that of the smiling purple devil emoji.

“Wish to do evil? No. Wish to destroy your pussy? Yes.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Jesus, Max.”

“Oh, come on, Sweetcheeks. You know how much I want to fuck you—so much, in fact, I’m willing to let you fuck my ass, which isn’t something I’ve let anyone do. Honestly, you should feel pretty fucking special.”

“It’s honestly surprising to me that you’ve had thousands of hookups with women and men, with zero ass play.”

“There’s been ass play, babe, but I’m always the giver if you know what I mean,” he wagged his eyebrows. “Let me in. I wanna see you naked.” His eyes moved salaciously down your body, biting his bottom lip.

“Rules.”

“You’re no fun,” he pouted, meeting your gaze.

“Rules,” you said again. “No, means no. I will ask before I do anything and check in on how you’re feeling. I like to use the color system—red, stop; yellow, slow down; green, go—but also safewords. Do you have one?”

“Mr. Rogers,” he answered without skipping a beat.

You made a face.

“Your safeword is Mr. Rogers?”

“Yes.”

“Okay… I’ll definitely remember that.” You took a breath before you started talking again. “If you need me to stop, slow down, or decide it isn’t your thing, I need you to communicate with me—use a color, your safeword, or just tell me to stop, and I will, zero hesitation, and no bad feelings. I want this to be as good for you as it is for me.”

His eyebrow rose.

“You get off on fucking guys?”

“And women,” you nodded.

His eyes went dark as he gasped out a fuck like he was picturing you with a woman.

“Anything else?” He asked.

“Just don’t make me regret inviting you over.”

He smiled.

“Sweetcheeks, I’m not gonna fuck up my chance to get between your legs, and frankly, I’m curious about what you’re going to do to me. You have my enthusiastic consent to do whatever the fuck you want.”

You opened the door wider, stepping out of the way.

“Max Phillips, you are invited into my home.”

“Come in, would’ve worked,” he said as he entered your apartment.

You got the door shut and locked and turned to find a big hulking vampire crowding into your space, pushing your back into the solid surface as he caged you in.

He looked at you with lust-blown eyes, his tongue sweeping across his bottom lip.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, voice lower, raspier, his eyes dipping down to look at your tits before meeting your gaze again.

You nodded.

His mouth was on yours immediately, like he couldn’t wait another moment, his hands cradling your face as he hungrily pressed his mouth against yours, swallowing the surprised moan that escaped your throat. You weren’t expecting the softness of his lips or how cool they were, feeling as if he’d just sucked on a popsicle. He deepened the kiss, pushing his tongue into your mouth, sliding against yours in practiced motions that had your toes curling and eyes rolling back.

Butterflies were fluttering in your tummy, which was wholly unexpected—this was Max, your annoying boss, and yet your heart was pounding in your chest—your pussy throbbing at how thoroughly he was kissing you, unable to stop yourself from pushing your fingers into his hair.

He’d ignited some kind of spark inside you, your body lit up as he kissed the breath right out of your lungs, finally breaking it so he could messily kiss along your jawline and down your neck. You were breathing hard, feeling as he inhaled deeply at your pulse point.

“Fuck, you smell good,” he murmured against your skin. He laved at the spot, lightly nipping at it. “I’ve always wanted to taste you.” He grabbed a handful of your ass.

“Another rule,” you panted. “No biting unless I say it’s okay.”

His head came up.

“Sweetcheeks, I’m not gonna bite you unless you beg me to,” he winked.

“Okay,” you nodded.

“Now,” he slapped your ass, making you jump a little. “Where’s the bedroom? I wanna see those pretty lips wrapped around my cock—it’s something I’ve thought about extensively, especially when you’re ordering me around.”

You sighed, pointing towards the open bedroom door.

“Hold on tight, spider monkey.”

“Wha—” the word broke off in a yelp as big hands gripped your thighs, suddenly finding yourself being easily lifted up against his body, your arms scrabbling to wrap around his neck, his mouth crashing against yours as he carried you towards the room with ease, kissing you the whole way.

You were tossed onto the mattress, leaning up to watch him pull his t-shirt off his body, hearing him kick off his shoes and push down his sweats, not even surprised he wasn’t wearing any underwear. You gulped as you took in the sight of his dick—long, thick, curved deliciously—you understood why so many people fucked him; it was a nice cock.

He was awkwardly pulling off his socks.

“This is always the least sexy part of undressing,” he mused, tugging off the last one.

“Not a sex with socks guy?”

His face scrunched up in disgust.

“Who fucks in socks?” He asked. “Unless most of the clothes are on, the socks are coming off—I’m going to be completely naked, thank you very much. Which,” he crawled onto the bed, spreading your legs to kneel between them. “It’s your turn. Let’s even the playing field. I have been dying to see your tits,” he wiggled his eyebrows, grinning.

“God, Max, you’re fucking ridiculous,” you untied the robe and let it fall open, revealing your naked body underneath.

His eyes were burning as they took you in, making you shudder at the intensity. He licked his lips before he moved, shoving his face into your chest hard enough that you fell onto your back. His cool body felt good against your heated skin, his big hands on your boobs, his head nestled between them, as he started shaking it from side to side and humming in the back of his throat.

“Are you fucking motorboating me?” You asked.

He popped up to look at you with a smirk.

“Yes? You’re so fucking warm, and they’re soft.”

“Why do people sleep with you?”

You honestly wanted to know.

“Big dick, practically zero refractory period, super strength, and I fuck like a pro,” he shrugged.

You snorted in disbelief.

He frowned slightly, eyes narrowing.

“Challenge accepted,” he stated.

Your eyebrows furrowed.

“Wha—” You were cut off by lips suddenly on yours, Max moving quicker than you expected, or could even register just one second his head was between your breasts, and the next he was kissing you hard. The first kiss had been impressive, but this one, he was pulling out all the stops, his tongue tangling with yours, biting at your lips, your brain losing focus on everything around you except for the man kissing you as if his life depended on it.

His hips were slotted in the cradle of your thighs, feeling his hard cock pressed into your body, holding himself up on one arm while the other hand moved up your thigh, ghosting his fingertips over your belly and ribs, making goosebumps rise on your skin, as he got to your breast, massaging it before rolling your stiff nipple between his fingers. You moaned as jolts of pleasure shot to your core, feeling yourself dripping with need, clenching hard around nothing when he pinched at the sensitive bud.

He broke the kiss when you needed to breathe, his lips making a path sloppily kissing your jaw and neck, licking and sucking at your skin. You gasped when you felt his fangs graze over your pulse point, surprised when your pussy throbbed, a rumbling chuckle coming from Max like he was aware of your reaction.

The man had worked some kind of magic because you were all hot and bothered, cunt aching to be touched, and seeping arousal. Your skin was heated, your breaths coming out harder, his lips latched around a nipple, and your back arched as you moaned, fingers digging into the bedsheets. He was pinching at your other bud as he continued sucking before switching sides, the sensations making you moan as you began to writhe with need.

His hand skated down your abdomen, making you vibrate in anticipation, wanting him to touch you, him stopping right before he was where you needed him, a pitiful whine pulled from your throat.

He chuckled, and you frowned.

His mouth came off your nipple with a ‘pop,’ looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

“You want me to touch that pretty little pussy? I can smell you. I don’t even need to touch you to know you’re fucking wet.” Those long, thick fingers of his were teasing against your skin in circles. “Want to come on my fingers?”

“You can try,” you answered, not wanting to reveal your neediness.

“Oh, babe, you’re gonna come. As a matter of fact,” he looked at the clock on your bedside table. “I will make you come in less than two minutes.”

“Less than two-Oh,” you moaned as his fingers pushed through your wetness before zeroing in on your clit, the rough pads of his fingertips circling it in a way that had your hips jerking. You were so pent up that you felt that heated pressure building in your core with each movement of his digits. You couldn’t help the soft sounds slipping from your lips, your hands gripped tight against the bedspread as he worked you over.

“You gonna come for me, pretty girl?” Max asked. “You gonna come all over my hand?”

He pushed one thick finger inside you, followed by a second, and a strangled noise sounded from your mouth. His thumb was on your clit as he started pumping his fingers.

“You’re so fucking tight and warm. I really fucking hope you let me fuck this pussy.”

He sped up his fingers and applied more pressure with his thumb, your muscles tightening in your belly.

“Wanna stretch you open on my cock, and feel you come around me. Bet you get so fucking wet.”

You were getting close, winding tighter every second, unable to stop your moans, fingers digging into the bedsheets.

“You like to be in control,” he mused. “Makes you a really fucking good assistant—keeping my ass in check. But,” he leaned down, rubbing his nose along your cheek until his lips were at your ear. “I think sometimes you like someone else in control,” he rasped, nipping at your earlobe and making you shiver. “And I also think,” he crooked his fingers, hitting something blinding, fucking his fingers against it repeatedly, rocketing you towards your climax. His voice went lower. “You want to be a good girl.”

Your orgasm hit you hard, completely blindsiding you as you came with a shout. Your back arched, feeling yourself clench and arousal spill around his digits, pleasure wracking through your body.

“That’s fucking it,” he purred, kissing your cheek. “You did so well for me, pretty girl—soaking my fingers—and we still had thirty seconds to spare.”

He kept working you through your high until you stopped fluttering, opening your eyes in time to watch him bring his fingers to his mouth and suck at them lewdly.

“Mmm, knew you’d taste fucking delicious,” he said around them. He finished, his digits shiny with spit, moving to cup his hand over your pussy, looking at you with a heated gaze. “Can’t wait to eat your wet little cunt. Do you know how many times I’ve fucked my hand thinking about it?”

The orgasmic haze was leaving your brain, your features screwing up in confusion, your voice coming out a little hoarse.

“You’ve jerked off thinking about me?” You asked.

“Sweetheart, you are prime spank bank material, and the way you’re always turning me down? Fuck, I’ve never wanted someone more. Plus, I like you,” he said off-handedly.

“You like me?” You said the words slowly.

“Yeah, I do. A lot, and I trust you. So, I know whatever shit you do to me will be good,” he said earnestly, and you could see in his eyes he meant every word.

You gulped, not expecting such sweet words from Max fucking Phillips.

He was a conceited asshole, who you could’ve reported to HR on many occasions for the shit he said, and yet, you never did because you knew deep down he was harmless. Even though he hit on you constantly, and you’d caught him in many compromising situations, he really was a good boss. He made sure you had everything you needed and did what you asked with only a little complaining. If you needed a day off, you got it. If you showed up to work with a cold, he was sending you home to rest, a delivery of fresh chicken noodle soup following.

You remembered a few months back. There was a creepy new hire who was handsy and made you feel insanely uncomfortable, who’d cornered you alone in the filing room and scared you to death, Max just suddenly appearing out of nowhere. He’d sent you back to your desk, and you never saw the other guy again, assuming he was let go, but now…

“Max?”

“Yeah?”

“What happened to that new hire?”

He looked confused.

“What new hire?”

“The creepy one from the filing room.”

You saw anger flash across his face.

“I ate him,” his tone growly.

“You killed someone for me?”

“I could hear your heart pounding all the way in my fucking office, and the closer I got, could smell your fear. Yes, I killed him,” he stated with zero remorse. “You didn’t feel safe, and that needed to be dealt with.”

This knowledge was doing something to you; knowing the lengths he’d go to protect you was turning you on, feeling the beginnings of arousal in your belly.

You reached out and pulled him down to kiss you, shoving your tongue in his mouth and pushing on his body, him getting the message to pull you on top of him as he laid on his back. He was matching your energy, kissing you just as enthusiastically, his hands tugging your robe off your body, so he could touch your back and ass, his big palms roaming everywhere as you made out.

When you came up for air, you looked at him, seeing his eyes hooded and black with lust, a lazy smile on his lips, as you caught your breath.

“Can I suck your dick?” You asked huskily.

“Fuck yes,” he nodded. “Let me get comfortable. I wanna watch.”

“Okay,” you replied. “I need to get the lube.”

You moved off of him to get the bottle on the other side of the bed while he stacked pillows behind himself and settled with his back against them at the head of the bed, spreading his legs, his dick hard and resting against his stomach. You laid down on your stomach in the space he made, keeping the lube close as you ran your hands up his thighs. He had his bottom lip between his teeth as you rubbed along his hips before taking his cock in your hand, surprised for a moment with how it felt.

“Your dick’s cold,” you said, looking up at him.

It was velvety smooth and hard like iron but cold—not even room temperature, absolutely zero heat, that you hadn’t noticed when he was on top of you.

“I’m a vampire,” he answered by way of explanation.

“I just figured if you could get hard, there was some kind of blood flow, and I don’t know, warmth from said blood flow?”

“I don’t question the science behind being able to get a boner. I simply thank the powers that be for allowing me to fuck, and I use the gift at every opportunity.”

That was a very Max thing to say, and you couldn’t argue with his logic.

“I’m aware,” you replied. You started stroking his length, his hips bucking. “Now, while I’m going down on you, I’m going to slip a finger in slowly—just relax. Your immediate thought will be to clench but don’t. Once you’re nice and relaxed and taking that first finger, I’ll put in a second and finally a third.”

He nodded.

“Got it, Sweetheart. I’ll do as Frankie said and relax, 'cause I wanna come,” he winked.

You snorted.

“Those aren’t the lyrics.”

“Paraphrasing.”

You kissed the tip of his cock, and he sucked in a breath.

Grabbing the lube, you put some in your palm and started stroking him, your hand easily gliding down his shaft as you wrapped your lips around the head, teasing your tongue against all of his sensitive spots, making his hips buck up.

“Fuck,” he moaned. “Shit, your mouth is so fucking warm.”

You understood his obsession with warmth now; he was probably always cold.

You came off him, looking up at him through your lashes.

“You’ve got a pretty dick,” you said.

“I know.”

You rolled your eyes.

“You know how you made me come quick?” You asked.

“Yeah?” He smirked.

“Once I get my fingers inside you, it’s your turn,” you said before taking him into your mouth and hollowing your cheeks.

Max moaned loudly, a hand landing on your head.

Your eyes were on him, seeing his mouth open and eyebrows furrowed, watching you with a hungry gaze. You started bobbing, taking him further and further into your mouth, before coming up and licking a wide stripe from base to tip, swirling your tongue around it, and engulfing him once more.

“You look so fucking hot with my dick in your mouth,” his voice had dropped lower, raspier. “Such a pretty fucking girl, sucking my cock.”

You were moving your head up and down, getting him further and further in your mouth until you swallowed around him, tears leaking from your eyes as your nose brushed the curls at his base.

The low groan that rumbled from his chest had a shiver moving down your spine.

“Better than I ever fucking imagined,” his voice was strained. His hand moved to your throat, feeling himself bulging. “Fucking taking my dick in your throat, so fucking good to me.”

You had to breathe coming off of him with a gasp, a line of saliva connecting you to him.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he rasped, rubbing a thumb along your wet lower lip, his eyes glazed over.

His hand ended up back on your head as you took him back into your mouth, working him over while you grabbed the lube, squirting a generous amount onto your fingers, getting slicked up.

You had one hand stroking what your mouth couldn’t fit, and your lubed-up fingers moved, gently grazing his hole, Max jolting from the sudden contact.

“Relax,” you reminded before taking him back in your mouth.

You were swirling your fingers, getting him nice and slick, your mouth and hand continuing to work him. Once you were satisfied, you slowly started pressing in a finger.

“Oh, fuck,” Max gasped.

His hips thrust forward, making you choke a little, but you quickly recovered, feeling him fluttering around your digit as you pushed it in—tight as a vice—having to wiggle to get it all the way in, and watching his face, seeing the slight discomfort at first before his face relaxed, his mouth going slack.

“It’s not too bad,” he rasped.

Your head came up.

“Color?” You asked.

“Green. So fucking green.”

You smiled.

“You’re doing so good for me. Here comes the second. Just relax. There will be a stretch.”

“Relax. I can do that,” he nodded, eyes hooded as he watched.

You started sucking him off again as you slowly fingered him, getting him used to the foreign feeling before pressing in your second, him doing better to relax this time, arching his back as he groaned.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he panted.

Your fingers were moving in him, working him until he was moaning, and you thought he was ready for the third, pulling off of him to speak.

“Color?”

“Green. Give me the third.”

He looked a little excited, and it elated you that he was enjoying himself.

“Love the enthusiasm.”

You knew this one would be the hardest, so you distracted him with your mouth and hand again while working your fingers, getting him to the point that he was babbling praise, and finally, you pressed in the last finger.

A loud, long moan was pulled from his mouth, his eyes squeezing shut, his dick twitching in your mouth as you pushed in all the way. He pressed a hand over his face, his other gripped tight on the blanket.

Your hand stilled, letting him accommodate the intrusion, focusing on blowing him, tonguing the underside, and circling the tip, over and over again, Max having to clutch at the bed with both hands and groaning.

Finally, you started moving your fingers again, fucking him open slowly, his hips bucking into your mouth.

“Why does this feel so fucking good?” He gasped.

You twisted your fingers a bit, scissored them, really making sure he was loose, his body shivering as you did it. Max attempted to speak but couldn’t make words, whining moans falling from his lips as you kept working, delighting you that he was rendered speechless for the first time since you’d met him.

It was time for the finale, and you were dripping with excitement. You knowingly crooked your fingers to hit that one spot inside him, pressing into it, and immediately, Max was spilling into your mouth—coming so hard his back arched, fingers gripping your bedding with enough force to rip the blankets, shouting your name in a strangled cry. You swallowed down his salty taste, an odd sensation that it was cold as you drank down every drop before coming off of him with a smile, feeling good about what you’d done.

Max sunk into the pillows behind him, eyes closed, looking absolutely blissed out and not even bothering to pretend to breathe. You didn’t know if he lost consciousness; he was as still as a statue—la petite mort personified, and it made you giggle as you pulled your fingers out of him, leaning to grab the towel to wipe them clean.

Your attention moved back to Max, seeing the torn blankets, and you briefly wondered if you could get away with charging new ones to the company credit card. You’d have to remember to ask him later.

“So,” you started. “What did you think?” You asked after a minute.

He peeked one eye open to look at you.

“I think I’m in love with you,” the words came out dreamily.

You laughed.

“You came that hard?”

“Marry me.”

You snorted.

“I’m not marrying you.”

“Have my vampire babies.”

“You can’t have children.” You paused. “Wait, you can’t have children, right?”

He frowned.

“No, I can’t,” he answered sadly. “Sperm are dead.” He sighed, closing his eye again.

It had never crossed your mind that Max would ever want to be a father.

“You know what that means?” You asked.

He blinked open both eyes, all feline-like, as he looked at you.

“What?” He asked.

“You can come inside me.”

You watched his face slowly light up, a big grin spreading on his lips.

“I can fuck you?” He asked, sounding excited.

You smirked.

“Max Phillips, you are invited into my pussy.”

He tried to hold in the laughter, but it just burst from him, loud guffaws, his eyes crinkling and dimple showing, his mirth making you laugh.

It took you a minute to both calm down.

He leaned forward and grabbed you, easily bringing you into his lap, kissing you the moment your faces were close. His hands cradled your jaw, slipping his tongue into your mouth, tangling it with your own, the two of you making out until it heated up and his hands were all over your body.

His eyes were dark pools when he pulled back to look at you.

“I want you to fuck me,” his voice was a deep timbre that had a tingle moving down your spine. You could feel him already hard beneath you.

“How do you want it?” You asked.

“Doggy?”

“Okay, let me get set up.”

You kissed him quickly before moving off the bed and putting everything on, going with the smaller of the two dildos.

Max was already getting into position when you crawled back onto the mattress, his head towards the headboard, ass facing you. There was just something about having a powerful vampire willing to get on his knees for you that had your body thrumming.

You moved in behind him, running a hand down his spine, making him shiver under your touch before you admired his rear, your hands massaging the plump flesh.

“Color?” You asked.

He looked over his shoulder, smiling.

“Green, babe!�� He wiggled his ass. “I want you inside me.”

“If you want me to stop anytime, just say so.”

“I’ve got it, Sweetheart,” he winked before facing forward.

You grabbed the lube, pouring a good amount on his hole, and the black silicone cock settled against your center, getting it nice and slick with your hand. You had to admit, it was a bit heady, being in this position, knowing you were going to be the one to bring your partner pleasure, being in complete control.

Your hand smoothed along his spine again.

“You ready, Max?”

“Yep! So fucking ready. Put it in!”

You pressed the tip of the silicone against his opening and slowly started pressing in, Max loudly moaning, and you loved watching it disappear inside him.

The tip was in, and you paused, Max still making sounds that had your pussy throbbing.

“Is it too much?” You asked, squeezing his hip.

“Fuck,” he moaned. “Fuck, it’s so good. More.”

The tone of his voice had you grinning as you pulled the tip almost all the way out and started pushing back in, doing this a few times with Max making noises that were almost inhuman before you started working in more of the fake cock.

Inch by inch, you slowly made your way inside until you felt a little bit of resistance and paused.

“You’re clenching, baby,” you purred, rubbing his hip bones. “Relax.”

“Sorry,” his voice was strained, relaxing enough that you could keep going. “God, it feels so fucking good.”

“I know,” you cooed. “You’re doing so good for me,” continuing to push in.

The sounds he was making were akin to manic moaning, clearly hearing how good he was feeling, making a thrill move through you.

“Fuck,” he cried. “Oh, fuck. Babe, it’s so good.”

Finally, you were all the way in, your hips flush against his ass, marveling for a moment at how it stretched him open.

He fell forward onto his elbows, whining out a long fuck.

“It’s so deep,” he panted. “Is it all the way in?”

“Yes. You good?”

“So, good. So, fucking good,” he moaned.

“Ready for me to move?”

“Please,” he whined.

You started moving, pulling almost all the way out and pushing back in, going slow at first, Max mewling with each stroke. It sounded like he was losing his mind in pleasure, the noises making your cunt clench, the harness rubbing deliciously against your clit, shooting sparks to your core, and you couldn’t help it when you moaned.

“You like this, pretty girl?” Max asked, the words raspy and breathy. “You like fucking me?”

“Yes,” you answered, speeding up your thrusts and making him tremble, his head falling forward as the deranged moaning got louder.

It was hot, having this man turn to putty underneath you and hearing the noises he was making, knowing you were making him feel that good. You had a good rhythm, gliding in and out of him smoothly, hearing the wet slap of your skin hitting his, your fingers digging into his hips for leverage.

There was that familiar build in your core, harness rubbing just right, and everything you were doing spurring you on, pounding the silicone into him.

“Oh, babe,” he whimpered. “Oh, fuck. I’m drooling.”

Heavy breaths were coming out of your mouth as you adjusted your angle, pulling a sound from Max you were sure the neighbors would complain about, focusing on that point, fucking into him, and making him keen underneath you.

“Fuck,” he gasped. “Oh, fuck. I love you. I fucking love you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you kept pace.

“No, you don’t, Max,” you panted.

“I need to touch you—need to feel you,” he begged.

“Sit up on your knees.”

He did as you asked, his back pressed against your front, as you fucked into him, holding an arm around his torso, while your other hand reached to grab his cock, Max shuddering as you started stroking him, him reaching behind to grab your hip.

“Thank you,” he moaned. “Thank you.”

The muscles in your belly were tightening, so worked up from everything you were doing to him and making him feel. His hips were pushing forward into your hand while you kept thrusting into him, nonsense babbling from his mouth, his cock throbbing in your touch, knowing he was close.

Your hand was moving slickly over his length, precum steadily dripping from the tip. Max was so overcome with everything he started laughing manically, interspersed with moans.

"God, I wish I could kiss you," he whined.

There was something about the desperation in his voice that had a hot spike of arousal shooting to your core, loving how even in his pleasure-addled state, he couldn’t stop thinking about you—making you feel some type of way, and you liked it. You loved this man coming undone beneath you, pulling him apart, and the fact he trusted you so much.

You adjusted your angle, again and again, until a full-body shiver moved through Max, and he gasped out an oh, fuck, his legs trembling. You zeroed in on it, hard short thrusts, his fingers digging into the skin of your hip, whimpering loudly.

“You gonna come for me, Max?” You murmured. “You gonna be a good boy and come for me?”

The sound he made would make a pornstar blush, his back arching as he came, ropes, and ropes of his come, spilling over your hand, and it sent you over the edge with him, coming with a moan of his name as you sank your teeth into his back, euphoria coursing through your veins.

Max fell forward on the bed, and you went with him, his cool skin feeling nice on your sweaty body.

He was solid beneath you, making no sound, not moving, doing his impression of an unliving statue again. Your ear was pressed against his back, and it was weird not hearing the thumping of a heartbeat. It took you a minute to recover and your breaths to even out. You gently and carefully pulled out of him, rolling to lay beside him, his face turned towards you, eyes closed.

It was strange how comfortable you felt with him—how safe. He could probably kill you in the blink of an eye, and yet you knew deep down he would never harm you. You’d always known that. You couldn’t help yourself, reaching out to rub your fingers through his hair, hearing him make an almost purring sound.

An arm grabbed your waist and pulled you against his body, him moving onto his side to hold you against him, your face shoved into his chest.

“Is that a flashlight in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” Max asked, his voice hoarse.

You snorted, the dildo wedged between both of your bodies.

“He lives. Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Ariana Grande was right,” Max mused.

“What?” You asked in a confused tone.

“God is a woman, and she wears a strap.”

“Oh my god, Max,” you laughed. “So, you liked it?”

He leaned back to look at you.

“You up for round two?” He asked.

“You want me to fuck you again?”

“On my back this time,” he nodded.

“Yeah, baby, I’ll fuck you.”

His hand moved to the back of your head to pull you in, kissing you hard. He was quickly licking into your mouth and making you moan. When he finally broke it, he looked at you with dark eyes, simmering with want.

“When you’re done making me meet god again,” his voice was low and husky. “It’s your turn.”

“I thought god was a woman with a strap? I don’t see any ladies here to show me a good time,” you smirked.

“That’s my god. You’re going to find out your god is a big dicked vampire who’s going to make you squirt on his first try.”

Your eyebrow rose.

“You really think you’re that good?”

The look he gave you was full of promise and made you clench.

“Oh, Sweetheart, I know I’m that good, and soon you’ll believe it.”

“You can try.”

“And I’ll succeed,” he kissed you passionately. “Give you the proper worship you deserve,” he murmured against your lips.

He pulled back to look at you.

“But first,” he said. “I want you to fuck my brains out, and I want to stare at your tits while you do it.”

You sighed.

“And kiss you,” he added, giving you puppy dog eyes.

“You wanna try the bigger dildo?”

He thought it over for a second.

“Bring it on,” he nodded. “Ruin me, Sweetheart.”

Part 2 - Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!

Tagging: @daddydindjarin @absurdthirst @kirsteng42 @littlemisspascal @athalien @thevoiceinyourheadx @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed @girlofchaos @mswarriorbabe80 @spanishmossmagnolia @star017 @javier-penas-wife @artsymaddie @hansolosleftbuttcheekk @deadhumourist @pretty-brown-eyess @hotchlover @eternallyvenus @allfoolsinluv @eppy816 @katareyoudrilling @babykangaemoji @punkerthanpascal @breezythesimp @bruxasolta @peachyaeger @din-jarhead @lovesbiggerthanpride @loonymagizoologist @pinebeam @spacenerdpascal @padbrookcottage @karlawithacapitalk @trickstersp8 @that-friend-in-the-corner @iamskyereads @beskarprincessjenny @beecastle @manuymesut @alexxavicry @leithatnight @trinkets01 @boiistfu @pedropascalsx @kulicny @xoxabs88xox @enjoyourlattebitch

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