Anythin Thats Broken, I Can Fix It.

“Anythin’ that’s broken, I can fix it.”

😭😭😭

JOOOEEELLLLLLL!!!! My heart hurts so bad from seeing his POV about this moment!

Broken

Thank you anon for this request!

An I Know Who You Are one-shot

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel finds out you got hurt on patrol.

Warnings: Joel POV, language, allusions to smut, descriptions of injuries/blood, amnesia, angst

WC: 2.5K

When Joel had knocked on Maria's door that morning, he still wore a small smile on his face as images of your perfect morning flashed across his eyes. The way your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he flexed his hips, the breathy sounds you made in his ear, how tight you felt wrapped around his cock.

At that point in his life, he assumed he was not meant for happiness. He had been through too much. The world threw everything it had at him and he crumbled. He let it ruin him and forge him into a cold, distant shell of who he once was.

And then he met you.

You were like a beam of light in an otherwise dark world. A breath of fresh air in a prison cell. A beautiful, yellow flower that grew amongst the disastrous landscape surrounding him. He couldn't help but be drawn to you. To want to lose himself in you, if you'd let him. And against all odds, you wanted him too.

You wanted him, too.

What were the chances? Finding love in the world before was nearly impossible. Once he found you, he began to wonder for the first time if all his suffering had meaning. If everything terrible and rotten that happened to him was all pushing him along on a path to find you.

Maria swung the door open with Violet wrapped around her hip and she grinned.

"You look pretty chipper this morning."

Joel immediately wiped the smile off his face and replaced it with a frown. He preferred to reserve that side of himself just for you.

"Tommy said y'need the dresser looked at?"

She nodded and stepped to the side so he could enter. He toed off his boots and glanced around. Jackson didn't have much, but the community did well with what they had, including toys for kids. Last he heard, the town had a monthly rotation of toys for all the little ones so everyone got to have a turn with the best ones.

He made a mental note to look for some new ones when he was outside the walls next.

"It's Violet's dresser," Maria explained, shifting his niece on her hip and leading him towards the back of the house. "Caught her climbing it last week, nearly gave me a heart attack."

She flicked on the light to Violet's room and made a face when she looked at the broken drawers.

"Well, better the dresser broke than the kid," he said, crouching down to get a better look.

"Do you think you can fix it?"

He gave the other drawers a tug, testing them to make sure they weren't damaged as well before standing with a groan.

"I'll have to make new drawers, this wood's busted, but yeah. Anythin' that's broken, I can fix it."

Maria gasped excitedly and looked at Violet, eyes wide and mouth spread into a huge smile. "Did you hear that? Uncle Joel's gonna fix your dresser, baby!"

He couldn't help but smile when Violet said, "thank you," with some prompting from Maria, of course.

"You're welcome. Just don't go climbin' on it when I'm done."

Joel spent the rest of the morning at the woodshed collecting scraps of two by fours that he could use to create two dresser drawers from scratch. At first, he thought he was in over his head. In a different life with all the right tools, he could have done this task without breaking a sweat.

"'Anythin' that's broken, I can fix it'," he scoffed, repeating his earlier words under his breath with a shake of his head. "The hell was I thinkin'?"

But he used what he had at his disposal, even if it meant using an axe to cut the right pieces of wood for the job instead of an electric saw. With a little patience and some thinking outside the box, he finally collected all the supplies he needed in a wheelbarrow and began his trek back to Tommy's house.

"Hey, before you get started, come in and have something to eat," Maria called from the window. He nodded and shrugged off his flannel, leaving it draped over the wheelbarrow before heading inside.

When he walked into the kitchen, he was greeted with a sandwich and some lemonade on the kitchen table next to Violet, who was nibbling on some fruit and toast and singing along to some children's songs playing from a radio.

"It's all I can get her to eat lately," Maria explained when she said down across from him. "She's growing into a picky eater and it's freaking killing me."

"Mama, bad word," Violet warned with her little chubby finger pointed straight up in the air. Joel chuckled and took a bite of his sandwich.

"I didn't say a bad word, baby, it just sounded like a bad word," she said, then once Violet looked away, she rolled her eyes at Joel and mouthed she hears everything.

He ate mostly in silence, half listening to Violet's music, half thinking about how he was going to tackle the next phase of his project when Maria spoke again.

"So, you think you guys'll end up having one of these?" she asked, casually nodding towards Violet. He glanced up at her in surprise before shifting his eyes to his niece.

"Uh, well..." he nervously scratched the back of his neck as he considered her question. It wasn't something you hadn't talked about but he had been thinking a lot more about it since Violet was born. His mind was screaming absolutely not, it's not safe, it's careless and irresponsible. He couldn't protect Sarah, how could he protect a newborn or keep a toddler from having a tantrum and attracting raiders or clickers?

But then Violet squealed with delight when a berry squished between her fingers and he felt that pull in his chest that he'd been trying to ignore for the past year.

"Dunno. Maybe one day," he finally told her.

"Gonna make an honest woman of her first?" Maria asked as she cleaned up Violet's hands.

"Don't think that's really our thing," Joel replied. And it wasn't. Well, not really. He had a hell of a time trying to settle you down in the first place. He couldn't imagine what the idea of marriage would do to you. And that didn't bother him. At this point, it didn't really matter. You were his, and he was yours, and that's just how it would always be.

After he helped Maria clean up lunch, he headed back outside. The sun was shining but the temperature was comfortable while he worked. And once he had all his supplies and a plan, everything came together rather quickly. Which was good because you and Tommy would be due back from patrol any minute and he very much wanted to relax with you the rest of the day and maybe tend to the garden if either of you had any energy left.

He was just finishing up the drawers and about to take them inside when he heard Tommy shouting his name. Before he even turned around, Joel's blood ran cold. He knew that tone. Something was wrong.

He swiveled around, his face already ghostly pale, knowing and bracing for the inevitable yet he still held out hope and swept his gaze around, hoping and fucking praying he would spot you.

"Joel, c'mon," Tommy panted, swinging his arm as he began to jog back in the opposite direction. Joel grabbed his blue flannel and raced after him, his blood pressure skyrocketing.

"Is she bit?"

Tommy shook his head and Joel felt his heart slow, but it was short lived when he saw the look on his brother's face.

"Is she hurt?"

"She hit her head," Tommy said, pushing people out of the way as they made their way to the infirmary. "She's awake but somethin' ain't right."

"What'dya mean? If she's awake after a head injury, that's gotta be good, right?"

Tommy cast him a forlorn look as they reached the steps of the building. "She can't remember."

Joel frowned. "Can't remember what?"

Tommy's eyes shifted around as they paused for a moment on the stairs. "She can't remember... any of it. The outbreak. This town... nothin'."

Joel swallowed and dropped his chin to his chest. He was grateful you were alive, grateful you weren't seriously injured, but this? This was not something he expected.

"So you're sayin' she don't remember me?"

Tommy's silence was all he needed to know. Joel's chest tightened and he felt his legs begin to shake. This wasn't real. He just saw you a few hours ago. He just fucked you a few hours ago. He was just talking to Maria about your future together... how could this be happening?

"Maybe..." he began, then pinched his eyes shut when he felt the swell of anxiety rise and squeeze his throat. "Maybe she just needs to see me."

"Joel, we gotta be careful 'bout this," Tommy warned, "she's real spooked. I almost couldn't get her to come back with me. She was talkin' 'bout goin' home and findin' her family-"

Joel's face crumpled. "You're fuckin' with me, right?" he croaked, blinking back tears. Tommy averted his gaze and shook his head, giving Joel a moment. He collapsed on the bottom step and hung his head between his knees, trying to focus on taking deep breaths and clearing his vision, but he could feel it. He felt it all those years ago when Sarah died in his arms and he felt it again: the shock that melted into despair which inevitably morphed into white hot rage.

"Joel..." Tommy said lowly, picking up on the shift in his brother's eyes.

"I gotta see her."

He stood and spun around so fast, Tommy hardly had time to react. Joel was halfway down the hallway through the building, kicking in all the doors before Tommy caught up, shouting at him to stop, begging him to slow down.

Then Nick rounded the corner, spotting Joel and Tommy.

"Stop!" Nick said firmly, but Joel just shoved him out of the way and barreled forward. He spotted the exam room that had a sliver of light on underneath the door and he swung it open.

His eyes scanned you up and down, assessing you for obvious injury before looking you in the eye. You appeared fine. You looked just like yourself, like nothing had happened. He didn't even see a mark on your head from the fall.

Joel felt Nick and Tommy rush up behind him and pause, no doubt studying the two of you to see how you would react. Your eyes finally left him to look questioningly over his shoulder and Joel whispered your name.

You angrily brought your gaze back to him and furrowed your brow. "What?" you snapped.

Joel swallowed again but remained perfectly still, refusing to believe you couldn't remember him.

"You remember Joel. Right, sugar?" Tommy asked gently.

Joel knew the answer before you even shook your head. He could see it in your eyes now. They were cold and closed off and scared. You never, ever looked at him like that. Not even after he told you about the hospital.

"Is it permanent?" Joel asked Nick. When the doctor began to give what he considered a bullshit answer, the anger simmering in his veins was lit on fire. He hauled Nick off the ground and yelled something in his face but for the life of him he couldn't remember what. He was seeing red and nothing else was getting through.

That is, until Tommy shouted, let 'em go, you're scarin' her! Then he let Nick go and twisted around towards you. His brows pitched up with concern when he saw you curled up next to the bed, rocking back and forth. Without even thinking, he took a step forward to help you, but you quickly jutted a hand out.

"Don't come near me."

He froze on the spot, speechless. His heart shattered in his chest at the fear in your eye, fear he put there. He couldn't go back to a life without you, he needed you.

"I'm sorry, baby."

And you flinched. You flinched at the term of endearment and the crack in his chest grew so wide, he was afraid he would fall in.

Tommy's voice broke the tension in the room. "Maybe we should give you two a minute."

Instantly, you were panic stricken. Your eyes widened and you scrambled to pull yourself off the floor. Instead of looking to him for comfort, you were looking at Tommy. Begging his brother not to leave him alone with you.

Joel stepped back and sagged against the wall, his eyes fixed on the ground as he tried his best to come to terms with what was happening. All he wanted to do was pull you into his arms and take you home and it was fucking killing him.

To Tommy's credit, he tried to explain who Joel was, that he wouldn't ever harm you, not in a million years, but your chest heaved and your hands shook with fear anyway.

"Look what he just did! How can you say that?"

"Because he loves you!"

The room grew still while you panted for air and tried to process the information Tommy just gave you.

"Is that true?"

He assumed you must have been talking to him so he nodded, still unwilling to look up.

You began to apologize but the pieces of his heart were drifting further and further apart. He was losing you and he had no idea what to do.

When Nick encouraged Tommy's idea to take you home to your familiar surroundings, Joel finally looked up with a little bit of hope.

"What else can we do?" he asked Nick, knowing full well he sounded too eager and hopeful. Nick began to suggest finding objects or keepsakes with sentimental value that could trigger your memory to return, an idea that gave him a spark of optimism, but when he looked back at you, you immediately looked away.

"Can I talk to you?" you asked Tommy. The two brothers stared at one another, communicating silently. Joel knew what you were going to say, Tommy knew what you were going to say: you didn't want to go home with him. And to make matters somehow worse, you were looking to his own damn brother for comfort and safety.

Safety from him.

The thought had his blood boiling and his teeth grinding, but he knew he had to control his temper or else he would make things infinitely worse.

"I'll be outside," he said gruffly, then stormed down the hall towards the lobby.

He took advantage of the few precious minutes he had to collect his fucking thoughts and think. He couldn't let his anger get the best of him. He needed to get that under control if this was going to work. And he needed to be patient. You were meant to be and he would just have to make sure you realized that again.

He took a deep, steadying breath and closed his eyes.

He could do this. He would do whatever it took for however long it took.

Anythin' that's broken, I can fix it.

The way I cackled at this 🤣😂

requested by @chronically-ghosted ♥ | insp

This is so beautiful and bittersweet!

❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

life and loss | joel miller

pairing: dave york x f!reader / joel miller x f!reader word count: 1k content warnings: 18+ blog; death, grief/loss, major character death (no description of said death), AU and crossover universes, kind of fluffy, navigating loss, reader is non descriptive/blank slate. notes: this randomly came to me yesterday on my walk. It was meant to be just a moodboard and a small blurb to go along with it… and then this happened. Oops! Tried to pack a lot into a small thing so hopefully it makes sense.

Momentos of him, your late husband, have remained tucked away for the last year following his unexpected death. As you settle into your new widowed life and new home over a thousand miles away from the life you created with Dave, all the beautiful memories reside in cardboard boxes out of sight. 

Word travels quickly through the small neighborhood about your arrival and marital status— or lack thereof. Welcoming introductions turn into unannounced check-ins and flowers. Uncomfortable small talk on your front porch is sprinkled throughout the following weeks, a hand on your shoulder accentuates their let us know if you need anything. Sympathetic casseroles finally dwindle allowing you to finally ease into this new season of your life. 

The hammock left by the previous owners becomes your sanctuary most evenings. Searching for the brightest star in the night’s sky, then asking Dave how he’s doing before reading aloud to him the words from your latest book. 

It's days later when you’ve read the final word that a small voice from over the fence manifests as a quirky teenage girl sitting at a table you’ve set up on your back patio. She has a million and one questions about the book and is filled with theories about what happens beyond its ending. The side gate is never regularly latched closed now, eagerly awaiting Ellie’s return. She navigates most of your late night conversations that follow, including personal stories and the history of her life. My grump of an old man is in construction. He’s single by the way— not by choice, but life happens. 

His voice is calloused the first time he makes his presence known to you. Goddamn it, Ellie! I told you to leave her alone! They exchange brittle words back and forth through the shared barrier, before you insist he join the two of you. The crunch of his boots on the ground stall when he towers over where you’re still seated. His hand engulfing yours, warm and gentle as he tries to determine where his gaze should fall— you, the ground, the smirking teenager sitting across from you. Joel. Joel Miller. Uh, Ellie n’ I live next door. Not sure how long she’s been botherin’ you, but I’ll be sure it doesn’t happen again.

It’s weeks later when you run into Joel at the mailboxes. The clanking of keys and squeaky hinges fill the space between you before you’re both retreating back to your respective pathways. Your hands fidget and twist the bills and letters from your parents when you bravely initiate a conversation before he’s able to reach his front door. She’s the first person since moving here who wanted to talk to me about something other than the death of my husband. I don’t think I’ve laughed as much as I have with her in a long time. She’s welcome over here anytime. 

He reeks of nervousness as he stands on your doorstep the following evening. The ambered hue of his eyes absorb the warmth from the front porch light, adding a brightness to them that they seem to be commonly lacking. His words waver a bit as he begins to speak, starting and stopping, scrubbing his hand down his face before he attempts to start again. You offer him nothing but patience, sensing the mournful energy radiating off him— similar to the one you’ve been carrying. My wife and older daughter— they were both in an accident on their way to Sarah’s soccer game. I was pickin’ up Ellie from her counseling group for adopted kids. We were headin’ to the soccer field when I got the call. Some days are harder than others. And everyone wants to help, however that may be— lots of food as I’m sure you know. It doesn’t ever really get easier, but you learn to live with grief. Anyways, if you ever need anything or just want to talk— you know where I live.  

He accepts your impulsive invitation to join you for dinner, offering him the open seat across from you in the same spot as your timid first meeting. The crickets orchestrate the evening ambience as you share stories you’d tucked away, too painful to revisit until now. You find you laugh just as much, if not more, with Joel. Even among the tears shed, the conversation is filled with a hope and optimism that you longed for. 

You still feel his wholesome embrace long after you’ve called it a night to seek out much needed sleep. But much like the nights that ensued after Dave’s death, loneliness and the weight of your grief rear its head. 

The black ink glides over the surface of the paper. Line after line formulated a year’s worth of unsaid words that had been bottled up and blockaded by the rigid walls you’d built around them. Joel was right about the therapeutic effect of getting rid of the burdensome thoughts that come with loss, finding it’s hard to stop now that you’ve started. 

You convey the love that you still carry for Dave, something you’ll never willfully ignore or regret. It feels wrong but you touch on the hatred you feel towards his death; you hate him for leaving you, hate that you miss him, hate that some nights you forget the small details that you cherished about him. You tell him about Joel and the kindness he’s afforded you in a short time of knowing him and that there’s life beyond losing the love of your life. To look for the light even when shrouded by darkness. 

Pictures and trinkets find their way out of the cardboard confines Joel helped pull out from the guest room closet. The bare walls now filled with familiar faces and shelves adorn with colorful memories that you tried so hard to keep hidden. 

Joel and Ellie being a constant presence in your life allows you to see that life can surprise you when you least expect it and there’s room for new love. 

😍🫠😍🫠😍🫠

Oh how I love Dieter and his lack of fucks to give when it comes to who sees or hears

Break Me Off A Piece

Dieter Bravo x Female Reader Written for the ever so lovely @yopossum's Mootboard and Minifics celebration.

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI)  Summary: Your husband Dieter Bravo has dragged you to yet another boring Hollywood party, you're determined to make it a little more fun. Warnings: reader calls dieter daddy, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (be safe irl), food play (kit kat on/dipping in reader’s kitty cat so definitely edible object penetration), spanking with a garden tool, teasing, somewhat public flashing, public-ish sex, getting caught having said public-ish sex, stolen flower, reader wears a dress and heels. Words: 2,000

A/N: Well, I’ve done it folks, my first fic where reader calls someone “daddy.” Thank you to @mothandpigeon for letting me type out Kit Kat ideas and @ohheypedrito for supporting the daddy of it all.

Masterlist

🧡🍫🧡

All night you’ve been playing nice, allowing Dieter to rub elbows and be the center of attention at this boring Hollywood party full of lame people you have nothing in common with. You laugh at jokes you don’t find funny, nod at stories you don’t care about, and smile at people you don’t like. You’ve been wondering all night why you even let Dieter drag you here…until you saw the way his face lit up as he watched you run that sweet cherry from your drink across your bright coral lips before biting into the fleshy fruit. Oh, that’s right, if you’re bored at this party, why not just tease your busy husband from afar? Time to shuffle the straps of your dress farther down your shoulders. Oh, what’s that? Your leg itches, let’s hitch your dress up and scratch the outside of your thigh. Dieter’s eyes behind his designer sunglasses always find their way back to you all night; you’re playing with fire, and you like the way the deep orange flames feel across your body. 

He’s entertaining yet another group of hanger onners, they laugh at everything he says, maniacally nodding their heads as he regales some sort of story you’ve probably heard a dozen times. Oh, please, he’s not that big of a deal. You love him, he’s your best friend, but they don’t have to pick up the Kit Kat wrappers scattered around his bedside table or pick up his wet towel he constantly leaves on your side of the bed. He catches your eye and you feel like making him suffer even more for dragging you to this lame party inside a lame mansion owned by a lame producer. You glance across the room, nobody’s looking at you, you’re not famous, you’re just a “trophy” (yeah, right) wife. A shot of bravery makes you sit up straighter, and grab the hem of your green dress. You open your legs, just as Dieter’s eye’s open when he gets a glimpse of your coral panties. His mouth drops, thick eyebrows rise above his sunglasses in feigned shock before he gives a precursory nod to his fan club and walks away from them, heading straight for you. 

“Get up,” he grabs your arm, pulling you to stand. “We gotta go somewhere, need to teach you a lesson.”

__

“Here?” 

“Yes baby,” Dieter crowds your back against a table filled with gardening supplies and potted plants. Your body knocks against the wood top, trowels and rakes clatter against one another; you’re mindful to not stick your hand in the potted cactus sitting to the left of you. His wet tongue runs up the column of your neck, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin of your jaw. You can feel the bulge of him growing against your behind. 

“It’s so dirty in here,” you say, angling your head back to try to meet his lips. 

“So?” he asks before sealing his mouth over yours, his large hand grabs your chin as the other grips your breast. You can taste the fancy champagne his cohorts have been pouring him all night. “You should have thought about that before you teased me in there.”

“Meee, tease yooou?” you gasp against his lips when he pinches your nipple through the fabric of your dress.

“Yes, youuuu,” he teases, “you know exactly what you were doing to me.”

Your palms push against the rough wood of the table, you’re really mad at your past self for choosing to wear such high heels. Weak knees and platform shoes are not a good mix for an escapade in a damn greenhouse. 

“Bend over for me naughty girl,” he rasps. “Want to show you what all this fucking teasing gets you” He bunches your dress up in his hand, exposing your bare cheeks to him. "Fuuuuuuuuck, this is perfect baby girl, you wore my favorite thong like the bad girl you are, didn't you?"

“You are aware this whole greenhouse is–nyuuh–glass, don’t you?” you ask surveying the surroundings of the windowed shed. Is all of this necessary? Do mega movie producers really garden?

“Well aware," he growls. “You look so fucking good tonight, I don't give a fuck where we are, just as long as I can fuck this pretty little orange covered cunt. I say let everyone watch. Let them see how crazy you’ve been driving me all fucking night.”

You hear the clang of metal, before feeling something cool and flat against your ass cheek. 

“...What in the world are yo–”

SMACK, a stinging sensation blooms across your bottom. Your body tightens, a loud moan escapes and echoes across the glass panels of the greenhouse. You jerk your head back, to only be greeted by Dieter and his proud smile. 

“Told you I had to teach you a lesson,” he says, waving a garden trowel in the air.

You breathily laugh, lust surging through your body when you push your ass farther out, encouraging him to spank you again.

“You want another bad girl?” his voice drops an octave, deep bedroom Dieter has taken over. 

“Yes daddy,” you mew, enticingly shaking your curves back and forth. 

Cool metal is once again against your skin rubbing small, teasing circles into your flesh. Your breath hitches in your throat when it’s pulled away, time slows while you wait for another spark of pain. 

SMACK. The metal lands against you harder this time, you gasp Dieter’s name, he answers you with a grumbly chuckle before throwing the trowel back on the table.

His hands find your hips, turning you around to face him before he sinks to his knees and bunches your dress up. He lifts his sunglasses up to rest atop his head, giving him a clear view of his favorite pair of panties.

“Fuck, they do match your lips,” he says before running his tongue across the seam of your orange thong.

He pulls your underwear to the side, covering your cunt with his mouth. You’ll never get tired of the way he groans against your flesh, like he can’t believe he gets to taste you. He swirls and glides his tongue against your sensitive flesh, sucking and licking in all of the right places. 

The sensation makes you lose your grip on the clutch you’ve been carrying all night. The bag drops, scattering its contents all over the floor, stealing Dieter’s attention away from eating you. 

He leaves your warmth, quickly gathering all of your items and stuffing it back in your purse, save for the lone Kit Kat bar you keep in your purse for Dieter emergencies.

He holds the candy up, a thick eyebrow angled up in mirth.

“What?” you shrug, “I know how grumpy you can get.”

“Feeling kinda grumpy at you for what you just put me through in there baby,” he says before bringing the package up to his mouth. 

“Then it’s a good thing I know you,” you counter.

“You don’t know me as well as you think you do,” Dieter says through gritted teeth, the Kit Kat package swings from his mouth with each word. He pulls your panties down, fully taking in the sight of you in before opening the candy package. “Though, I am quite hungry.” 

He breaks a piece off and brings the chocolate to your cunt, parting your lips with the thin stick of chocolate. He circles the smooth wafer against your clit before leading it down to swirl against your entrance, Dieter looks up at you and winks before he dips it inside of you for a split second pulling a sweet moan out of your throat. He glides the confection covered in your slick out and brings it to his mouth; his eyes flutter shut when he wraps his plush lips around the candy now covered in you. A boisterous whimper emits from his throat, his whole body shudders against you. It’s filthy and sweet, watching your movie star spouse taste his two favorite things… you and a Kit Kat. 

“Good?” you question, exceedingly turned on just knowing how much Dieter enjoyed his little treat. 

He moans out a long, satisfying “mmmm” before tucking the open candy package into the chest pocket of his linen shirt. 

“Amazing,” he smiles, rising to his feet and unzipping his pants, pulling his cock out, already leaking and hard, definitely due to his prior snack.

You lift yourself onto the potting bench, bundling your dress up and spreading your legs wide, your pulse quickens, your body's already anticipating being stuffed full of Dieter’s thick cock.

He consumes you, his big arms blockade you in on both sides as he slowly enters your cunt. He puffs out a breath of air against your neck when he fully sheathes himself inside of you.

“You feel better than a Kit Kat,” you sigh, adjusting your legs to wrap around his body, opening yourself up even more for your husband to take you in the greenhouse.

He cackles against your neck, his dick rumbles against your walls with each laugh. 

“Better fucking be,” he says, pumping in and out faster as if he has to prove he is in fact better than a tiny stick of a candy bar. 

His thrusts rock into you harder as you open wider for him, soaking his cock with your slick; your hands clutch his hair, knocking his sunglasses off of his head when he begins to pound into you. You’re moaning so loud but you don’t care... Dieter is right, let them hear you, let them see you be taken by your husband. 

“That’s it, taking my fat cock like the naughty fucking girl you are,” he grunts. The table you’re sitting upon shakes under his force, metal garden tools and pots knock against one another. The loud clash of a terracotta planter landing on the floor doesn’t even phase the two of you.

“DUDE, WHAT THE FUCK?!” 

The sound of Dieter’s mega producer friend Jordan interrupts your feverish fucking. Your hands unclasp from Dieter’s hair, you can’t even look over at Jordan, too embarrassed by how he’s found the two of you. You idiot, what did you expect you’re screaming like a banshee and he’s fucking you in a greenhouse. 

“Sorry man, we’re almost done,” Dieter says, his dick twitches inside of you with each word spoken. 

“No dude, people are watching from the balcony, you gotta get out before someone snaps a pic,” Jordan scolds.

“Alright,” Dieter slips out of you, your body already begins craving the fullness of him. “Alright, we’ll get going, so we can finish elsewhere.”

“Jesus Christ Bravo, you could have asked me for a room,” Jordan shakes his head before turning and leaving. 

Dieter turns his head to you, giving you his classic smug grin. God damnit, you love this frustrating mess of a man. 

“Let’s go. The car’s waiting outside, I can fuck you in there.”

He picks your panties up off the floor and stuffs them in his pocket.

“Wait a second…” he turns around and grabs a stem from the bird-of-paradise plant now laying on the floor surrounded by the broken pot.

“Diet–”

“I made that man seven figures last year, he’s not going to miss this,” he says, handing you the flower before leading you to the limousine waiting to take you home. “Plus, every good show deserves flowers at curtains down.” 

___

“Shit,” Dieter says, as he deposits his keys and belongings onto the foyer table. “I don’t have my sunglasses. Pretty sure they’re still in that shed…”

Thank you for reading again! ❤️ I’m so glad you liked it!! Javi just has a way with words 😍😍

When It Rains

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Warnings/Tags: 18+ MDNI, go on get! PWP, mostly porn but some plot, unprotected PIV(Don't do this IRL, be safe, make smart choices), kissing, fingering(f receiving), cream pie, flirting.

I'm trying to practice smut more, be kind. This is for @undercoverpena's April Showers prompt!

Thank you so much to @notjustjavierpena for helping me with the moodboard and the grammar stuff, @strang3lov3 for editing and leaving encouraging comments, and @beefrobeefcal for also betaing! Don't know what I would do without you lovely people! ❤️

@jay-zzle is my Spanish expert and dear friend who has helped me with a lot of my translations. Plus she's also one of the main reasons I'm trying to learn Spanish 🥰

divider by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist||AO3 Link

You’ve been assigned the stakeout with Javier Peña at a nightclub, where it’s been rumored that some of Escobar’s sicarios frequent regularly. It’s not a problem per se, but it could just be a tad distracting considering the circumstances. No one, not even Murphy, has seemed to catch wind of what has been going on between the two of you; the late-night meet-ups, the storage closet, the file room, hell - there was even one time late at night in the office the three of you share. You’re professional though, work always comes before play. That’s been the rule since the beginning. 

“Looks like it’s gonna rain,” Javi comments, pushing his head to the car’s window, and looking up, “We could definitely use it.”

You hum in agreement, watching the nightclub like a hawk. As you listen to the pulsing music radiating from the club, watching people file in and out of the building, none seem to be any of Escobar’s crew just yet. The night seems to be growing darker as the clouds glide across the sky, covering the bright moon's light. Soon enough, small drops of rain begin to fall, turning into fat drops within minutes, downpour to follow.

“Fuck,” you hiss, gripping the steering wheel and peering out the dash window, “Of course.”

“Nothing wrong with some rain,” Javi smirks, looking at you.

“Except for the fact we can’t see shit!”

“Maybe we could do something else with our time?” Javi suggests, laying his arm against the back of the bench seat and scooting his hips forward to get more comfortable. His hand creeps onto your shoulder, rubbing small circles against the bare skin there, skimming past the hem of your tank top.

“Javi,” you scold, shrugging your shoulders to get your point across,  “No, we’re working.”

“Can’t see shit in this rain,” Javi grumbles, crossing his arms across his chest, “Least we could have some fun.”

“Maybe it’ll die down,” you suggest, looking at him. He matches your stare with those pleading eyes of his. Those dark eyes, the way they make you want to melt every single time they land on you.

It’s been 20 minutes and the downpour hasn’t relented. After seeing how you wouldn’t be doing something else with your time like he suggested, Javi’s beginning to become restless.  

“When it rains it pours, hermosa,” Javi says, grinning at you. Your pulse jumps at that word. Hermosa. He knows exactly what he’s doing. That’s how it always starts.

“Javi,” you warn, reminding him again, “We are working. You know the rules, work then play.”

He moves closer to you, leaning over to whisper in your ear, “We’ve played at work before, cariño.” Goosebumps pebble across your skin. You hope he can’t see them with how dark it is. You crane your head away from him and grab the binoculars from the dash, choosing to ignore the burning desire between your thighs. You just need to focus on work. You feel Javi lean back in the seat, his eyes boring into the side of your head. You put the binoculars against your face, grunting in annoyance when you still can’t see anything.

“Bebé,” Javier says, grabbing the binoculars from your grip, “Let’s call it night, hmm?”

He throws them into the back seat with a smirk, leaning closer to you, grabbing the back of your neck, and gently urging you toward him. His index finger sweeps against your cheek, brushing a stray hair behind your ear. He smiles warmly at you before dipping his head to meet your lips. Your hands rest against his chest, fingers fiddling with the open V of his button-up. 

You moan against his mouth when he licks your bottom lip, allowing him access to slip his tongue inside. Your tongues caressing each other, your hands move to the nape of his neck. Your lips make their way to his jaw and down his neck, your teeth lightly scrape his pulse point.

“Mira que duro me pones(look how hard you make me),” Javi says, pulling you onto his lap, grinding against your center to let you feel his growing bulge. “Te deseo(want you),” he growls.

You let out a faint gasp. Javi has a firm grip on your thighs to keep you against him, one hand finding its way to your center, palm pressing firmly against your clit through the denim of your jeans. You moan against his throat at the sensation.

“Javi,” you whimper as he flicks the button of your jeans open and begins to tug on them impatiently. “Fuck, Javi. I gotta get my damn shoes off first.”

He grabs your jeans, helping you out of them after knocking your shoes off. Javi brings his hand back to your center, rubbing precise circles against your clothed clit, moving down to pull your panties aside. Javi hums, capturing your lips again, tongue tangling with yours, enjoying feeling the slick against your slit.

“So wet,” he says, teasing two thick digits against your entrance. You hum with a nod of your head, crying out when he pushes them into your wet heat.

“Javi,” you moan, putting your head into the crook of his neck, rolling your hips in time with his fingers. “Fuck.” Beginning to feel the coil in your belly tightening.

“¿Así, bebé?(just like that, baby?)” He asks, moving his thumb to massage small quick circles on your clit. You whimper his name when he curves his fingers just right, hitting that spot he knows you love. His mouth leaving open mouth kisses along your neck, reaching your pulse point he begins to suck lightly. You can feel the coil in your belly tightening more, your walls beginning to flutter against his fingers every time he hits that spot with the pads of his fingers.

“Eres mía(you’re mine),” Javi whispers against your neck.

“So close,” You whine, moving your hips faster, his fingers sinking in deeper with each roll of your hips. He moves his head from your neck to look at you, gripping the back of his neck, crashing your mouth into his. Javi moans, beginning to feel your walls clamp around his fingers. The coil in your belly snaps, shooting white-hot lightning through your entire body. Your hand pulls onto the hair at the nape of his neck, causing Javi to let out a guttural groan, pulling you back down from your high.

“Fuck me,” you sigh against his lips.

“That’s the plan, cariño(honey),” Javi smirks, kissing you again, scooting to lay his back against the seat.

Your hands slide down his chest, popping open the buttons of his shirt. You smirk, leaning into his collarbone and placing soft kisses before biting down gently.

“Fuck, bebé(baby),” Javi says sucking in a breath, moving his hands between your bodies to fumble with his belt, “Te necesito(need you)”

You lift up, swatting his hand away to work his belt and jeans open. He lifts his hips and helps you lower his jeans, his stiff member slapping against his stomach.

“Javier Peña,” you tsk, shaking your head at him, “Commando? Did you miss laundry day?”

“Knew about this assignment for weeks now. Asked to be paired up with you,” Javi smiles, wiggling his eyebrows. “Figured this would happen.”

“Oh, fuck off!” You laugh, playfully smacking his chest.

“Awe, come on now, chica sucía(dirty girl)” Javi says, placing your hands on his chest, “You know it’s—“

You grind against his cock, hands pressing firmly against his chest and he lets out a groan.

“That’s one way to get you to shut up,” you grin, slowly grinding your wetness along his shaft, the tip catching your bundle of nerves with every roll of your hips. Javi shifts up grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you to his lips in a hungry kiss. He moves his hand down to line his cock up to your entrance and you slowly sink down on it, taking it inch by inch. You're no stranger to Javi’s cock but each time feels like the first with how thick he is.

“Estás tan apretada, mi amor(you’re so tight, my love)” Javi growls, against your throat, “No pares(don’t stop)” holding onto your hips as you sink further down on him, ass cheeks finally resting on his thighs. You kiss him, both of you taking a minute to savor the feel of one another, Javi gently rubbing his fingers up and down your spine with one hand while the other holds your cheek.

“You’re so beautiful,” Javi murmurs, caressing his nose against your cheek before capturing your lips again, moaning into the kiss as you tentatively roll your hips. His hand settles on your lower back, letting you take control at a slow tempo, letting you enjoy the way his cock massages your inner walls. You moan feeling your nipples beginning to harden between your layers and his chest.

“Javi!” You gasp when he snaps his hips holding onto your lower back firmly.

“Need to see you,” Javi huffs, moving his hand from your face to your shoulder and pushing you to sit up, breath hitching as you swallow more of his length into your core. He rids you of your tank top and pushes the cups of your bra down. You begin to lightly bounce on his cock, moaning at the feel of his hands on you, fingers from one hand beginning to pinch your left nipple while his other hand slides down your ribs, gripping your waist. “Eres mía(you’re mine),” he growls. You can feel your climax nearing, your thighs beginning to shake, feeling the heat running through your body as you bounce.

“Want to take you out,” Javi grunts, your walls begin to tighten at his words, “Make sure that ev-fuck-everyone knows you’re my girl,” he rambles, gripping your waist tighter, snapping his hips into you. “Eres mía(you’re mine).”

“Javi,” you cry out, wanting all of those things and more, your walls fluttering around his shaft, “Fuck, Javi- yes, yes, yes, yes!” Your walls clamp down on him, milking his cock while your vision blurs.

“Fuck,” Javi whines, hips stuttering, emptying himself inside you. He sits up, wrapping his arms around your back to pull you closer to him. Your arms wrapped around his neck, kissing him softly, leaning your forehead against his, trying to catch your breath. Javi looks into your eyes and grins as his softening cock slips out of you.

“I’m serious, corazón,” Javi says, “Want it all.”

“Me too,” You nod, a grin stretching from ear to ear on your face.

“Peña?” You hear the radio chirp against the dash, Murphy beginning to call for you as well. “Anyone there?”

You giggle as Javi leans over, keeping a grip on you in his lap to reach the receiver. “Peña here.”

“The hell are you guys?” Murphy asks, “It’s been raining like cats and dogs for a fuckin’ hour, and no word from either of you!”

“Heading back now,” you say, shaking your head and laughing.

Well now I want McD’s breakfast AND Joel taking care of me! 😍🥰😅

Golden Arches - A Hungover Joel Miller Drabble

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Pairing: No Outbreak Joel Miller x Female Reader Word Count: 700 Summary: After a night of stoned and drunken debauchery Joel surprises you with your favorite hangover cure. Warnings: No outbreak Joel, a dash of smut memories, domestic fluff, mainly Joel's POV until the end, McDonald's breakfast, Sarah and I have the same favorite drink, marijuana use, alcohol.

A/N: And yet another entry into the @ohheypedrito and I talk about something and then I make it into a story. It's cute, it's short, and it makes me really want a spicy Sprite.

Masterlist

🥞🥞🥞

He wakes up, head pounding with eyelids weighted by exhaustion. The beam of sunlight slicing in through the curtains fries his brain. He stretches and groans trying not to disturb you as he rolls out of bed, feet planting against the floor, broad naked body swaying back and forth finding his sleep drunk balance. He shuffles over to the chair in the corner and slides his flannel pajama pants on. 

Foggy memories of last night awaken him. Your bubbly laughter floating across his backyard as he sings along to the song in your ear. The ashtray sitting on his knee that you ash the joint into. The taste of whiskey and ginger on your tongue diving into his mouth. Your hands in his hair as he sank to his knees and ate you out as you swang on his porch swing. 

He grumbles out of the bedroom, wiping his large hand down his face, rubbing his sparse beard against the palm of his hand. His lungs deflate with a cavernous yawn. He’s so hungover, he can only imagine how badly you’ll suffer the wrath once you wake up. 

He picks up his shirt deposited on the kitchen counter top and pulls it on. His eyes adjust to the sun shining on the patio, he gently shakes his head when he spots your bra laying in the middle of the green grass, light blue satin fabric glistening with morning dew. 

Better pick that up before Sarah gets home. 

He wonders where your pretty dress ended up as he gulps down a drink of water and takes two Advil. 

The time on the microwave tells him he better hurry, breakfast will be over soon. He checks on you, smiling at the sight of your naked body all stretched out in your peaceful slumber.

Keys jangle in his hold as he stuffs his wallet into his pocket, puts his sunglasses on and slips his feets into his sneakers. 

The Texas heat is already stifling, sweat already gathers at the back of his neck as he climbs into his truck. The engine revs and he pulls away from the home he’s made with you. 

___

He parks in the driveway thanking his luck he made it right before the kitchen switched over. The truck smells of oily and sweet breakfast food, his mouth waters. 

He gathers the cup carrier and food, holding the brown paper bag in his mouth while unlocking the front door. The house is silent, you must still be asleep. 

He puts a cup filled with Hi-C Orange in the fridge for Sarah. Hoping the surprise of her favorite drink will calm her disappointment that she missed out on fast food breakfast while at her sleepover. 

He walks to the bedroom, excited to surprise you with your favorite hangover cure.

___

“Sweetheart,” he whispers against your forehead, placing a kiss against it.

You grumble, turning away from him. 

“Baby, it’s late.” 

Your grievance rumbles louder pulling a chuckle out of him. 

“Come on, I got you something,” he shakes the bag. “You gotta get up.”

Intrigued by what he surprised you with, you muster the strength to roll over, eyes lighting up at the sight of Sprite happily bubbling in all of its delicious effervescence. 

“Pancakes?” your ragged voice ekes out. 

He nods and stabs the straw in your Sprite before handing it to you. Sitting up, you wet your throat with the zesty carbonation.

“I’m sorry for this,” he apologizes before cracking the curtains open earning a hiss from you closing your eyes tight. 

You reach for the bottle of Advil on your bedside table chucking two in your mouth praying for a reprieve from the pain beating against your head. 

“Move up,” he grabs his coffee, and places a foot on the bed. You scoot forward, he sits behind, his back resting against the headboard. You settle your body against him. “Come on now, eat.” 

The smell of black coffee on his breath mixes with the maple syrup and buttery goodness of your pancakes, you feel golden just like the arches of your favorite hangover cure.