Like A Creature In The Black Night - Javier PeĂąa x Confidential Informant f!Reader
⤡ (coming soon)
-`âĄÂ´- ONE SHOTS ââ
Ride It, Baby Girl - Javier PeĂąa x f!Reader
⤡ Javier makes you play with his new toy.
-`âĄÂ´- DRABBLES ââ
The Rain Finds Him First - solo!Javier PeĂąa
⤡ Javier gets caught in the rain.
tag. | crossovers. | headcanons.
-`âĄÂ´- SERIES ââ
Tell Me I'm Your National Anthem - Ted Garcia x f!Reader
⤡ MASTERLIST (on going)
⤚ After a chance encounter with Ted (the mayor of Eddington) at a local bar, begins as an innocent night of conversation and drinks soon spirals into something far more intense. Drawn into his world, you find yourself swept up in a storm of fiery passion, self-discovery, and raw vulnerability â a journey that unravels with equal parts desire, destruction, hope, and unexpected love.
-`âĄÂ´- DRABBLES ââ
To Finally Rest - Ted Garcia x Reader
⤡ A lazy day with Ted.
tag. | crossovers. | headcanons.
-`âĄÂ´- SERIES ââ
Blue Horizon - Joel Miller x f!Reader
⤡ MASTERLIST (on pause)
⤚ Youâve lived in Jackson for five years now â quietly tending your trade, burying memories under dirt and roots. But one cold afternoon, a too-heavy sack of potatoes and a too-soft look from Joel Miller begin to unravel something much heavier. What starts as a simple dinner offer turns into a quiet evening of laughter, firelight, and the first honest moment between two people who have never quite said what they meant to.
-`âĄÂ´- ONE SHOTS ââ
Always, You. - solo!Joel Miller
⤡ After a sweet innocent interaction makes his body run warm, he canât help the overwhelming feeling that coils deep inside him despite the guilt that may follow.
OTHER PEDRO PASCAL CHARACTERS:
-`âĄÂ´- DRABBLES ââ
Can I Put You On Hold While I Come? - Max Phillips x f!Reader
⤡ Max misses you. So he calls you while at work, horny and frustrated.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
I have made the conscious decision to move to a new blog.
I've had this blog since 2012, it's messy, it's been through hell and back and I have a lot of negative energy tied to it.
I'll keep this blog up, I'll keep my work up and I also plan to move my works to AO3. As well as linking those AO3 postings in my masterlist on my new blog.
Thank you all so much, I truly appreciated the following I've cultivated here (even if a good majority ARE bots), and all who have supported my work.
I would love if you all followed me on my new blog (don't wanna lose my moots!!) and if you could reblog this as well, it would mean the world to me.
Just reblogging again for anyone whoâs missed this.
I will no longer be active here. All my work will stay and move to AO3 but if you want more/new content from me â follow the new blog.
Itâs crazy knowing out of 615 followers only 20 odd something people have followed me on the new blog. Tumblr is truly full of bots. Percentage is INSANE.
I have made the conscious decision to move to a new blog.
I've had this blog since 2012, it's messy, it's been through hell and back and I have a lot of negative energy tied to it.
I'll keep this blog up, I'll keep my work up and I also plan to move my works to AO3. As well as linking those AO3 postings in my masterlist on my new blog.
Thank you all so much, I truly appreciated the following I've cultivated here (even if a good majority ARE bots), and all who have supported my work.
I would love if you all followed me on my new blog (don't wanna lose my moots!!) and if you could reblog this as well, it would mean the world to me.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Also to add to my recent post. I know everyone will be in my dms/commenting about âdonât be discouraged by engagementâ and I appreciate the words truly! But the thing is, I love writing.
I have countless things that donât make it on here in my docs, notes, sideblog, so the moment I think people like something or Iâm encouraged to post something, and it doesnât do that good, it obscures MY thinking.
I donât WANT THAT, I donât want engagement and a wondering if people like something or not to DAMAGE what I love.
So thatâs more of the reason Iâm stepping back.
Maybe if I can reach a place where I donât get so bothered by it again, I will come back.
But for now â I gotta dig myself out of a rut from my mental/physical health stuff going on irl. So this all is really on the back burner.
Take care, I truly do love all of you who support me in every single way â¤ď¸
Just finished your National Anthem series. It was soooo good and itâs good to see this side of Ted. You did an amazing work. Thank youđĽšđŤśđťđ (btw, hope you have a great weekâşď¸)
Oh anon⌠thank you so much.
I was sad to write the last chapter but I hope everyone loves it. Itâs been an honor writing it.
Itâs little asks and comments like this that remind me that people ENJOY my work and itâs all the more worth it.
Pairing: Ted Garcia x f!Reader
Warnings: (MDNI) explicit sexual content, rough sex (p in v), clit slapping, p in a, NO PROTECTION, cum play, deep emotional vulnerability, slight power imbalances, slight dubcon, dirty talk, possession, and some crying during sex. MAYOR EATS ASS đ
Word Count: 5.4k
Summary: In this last chapter after a night of desperate passion, Ted confronts his fear of being hurt again. Vulnerability fuels a heated, relentless claiming that turns into something deeper than lust. Space is made in his home, in his life, and in his heart, sealed with the promise of love⌠and a possibly a future.
Notes: This is the final chapter of this series! There are NO SPOILERS for the movie Eddington in this fic. POVs switch between Reader and Ted. Thank you to @sad-bitch-disorder and @jadesmultifandom for being my beta readers.
CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | ⥠MASTERLIST âĄ
KO-FI, if you please.
âYou⌠love me?â
The words tumble from his mouth like a gasp â half disbelieving, half desperate â tinged with hesitation, confusion shadowing every syllable.
Youâre still breathless, body trembling from the deep intimacy of what you both just shared. Your hair is mussed, your lips swollen, your pulse a frantic drum against your ribs. Yet you nod â slowly, deliberately. A confirmation, fragile but unwavering.
âIâm not just caught in the moment,â you whisper, voice trembling but steady in its truth. âThis isnât some silly afterglow fantasy. Itâs been there, Ted. Growing. Rooting itself deeper every day until it has become impossible to ignore.â A shiver ripples through you, your body reacting even though heâs still buried deep inside. âAnd now Iâm so fucking terrified⌠because the look on your face is telling me I may have made a mistake.â
His brows pull tight, and the expression cuts through you like glass, but then his hands rise, firm yet gentle, settling on your shoulders. His thumbs stroke the curve of them before sliding down, tracing the warm, bare skin of your arms as if grounding both of you in the reality of this moment.
âNo⌠no, baby, no,â he blurts out, urgency roughening his voice. He grunts softly, adjusting your weight on top of him, his thighs relaxing, his bare cock softening within you â but refusing to let the closeness slip away.
âIâm not scared of your words,â he breathes, shaking his head as though trying to banish the thought from your mind. âIâm not trying to make you regret them. HellâŚâ His voice cracks, low and raw. âIâm just as scared as you are.â
Your chest tightens as you watch his expression flicker â hesitation, sorrow, something old and festering that youâve only ever caught glimpses of in the quiet moments when heâd make you both tea and youâd sit out back, staring into the distance. His hands stay on your arms, squeezing, not hard but enough that you feel the tremor in them.
âItâs love..â he starts, but the word hangs heavy, stuck between his teeth. He swallows hard. âItâs love itself that wrecked me once. It gutted me. When she leftâŚâ His jaw tenses, eyes flitting away from yours, shame flashing there as though even naming her is a betrayal. âWhen my wife walked out, it felt like everything Iâd built my life around just crumbled into dust, into nothing. The house, the vows, the family dinners, the goddamn future we promised each other⌠God, our son...â His throat tightens. âGone. Just like that. And I told myself Iâd never, ever set myself up for that kind of fall again. Iâd never lose focus on what matteredâŚâ
Your breath catches. Heâs never spoken of her like this, never peeled back the grief so raw it still bleeds when touched.
Tedâs eyes find yours again, desperate, searching. âSo when you say you love meâŚâ His voice fractures, his thumb brushing absent circles on your skin, nervous, broken. âIt terrifies me. Because⌠I believe you and because part of me wants it. Fuck⌠I want you â more than Iâve let myself want anything since she left. And that meansâŚâ He exhales, trembling. âThat means that there is a very real possibility⌠that you could destroy me too.â
The silence that follows is suffocating, heavy with unspoken truths. Youâre still straddling him, his warmth inside you fading but the intimacy deeper than itâs ever been. His eyes, wet and wide, lock with yours as if bracing for your answer â whether youâll promise him safety, or become the black cloud heâs been running from all these years.
You clear your throat, the sound breaking through the heavy silence. Vulnerability claws at you, and instinctively you try to pull away from his lap. But his arms â broad, unyielding â wrap around you, anchoring you in place.
âNo.â His voice is firm, almost commanding. His eyes donât waver from yours, dark and burning.
âStay right here.â
Your breath catches, widening your eyes as you feel him stir inside you, his cock twitching back to life with a slow, deliberate throb. The ache between you reignites instantly.
âYou wonât hurt me, right?â his words tumble out, low and jagged, almost a plea with his soft brown eyes. âYou came into my life for a reason. You keep coming back to me for a reason, donât you?â His hips buck upward slowly, driving his cock against your drenched walls and you shudder at the way he keeps you pinned down, refusing to let the moment slip away.
âTell me,â Ted demands, the desperation in his voice tangled with arousal, fear, and something dangerously close to hope. âSay it.â
His eyes plead with you, desperate and unguarded. His thrusts drag in slow, torturous waves, every inch of him curving deep inside you, pressing against the places that make your body shiver.
âTed⌠fuck, I â I wonât hurt you. Ted, I donât want to hurt you. I donât want to ever leave you. Fuck, Iâm trying to concentrate, to tell you, to promise youâŚâ The words spill out between ragged pants, your hands clutching at his shoulders as if holding him steady might help with anchoring you to your own words, to him.
âI wanna love you. I want to make you forget all the bad shit. I, I ââ Your voice falters, the weight of it all breaking in your chest, but before you can finish, his mouth crashes against yours. His kiss is bruising, claiming, silencing every fear and vow in one fiery collision.
One of his arms loops under your ass, and suddenly heâs rising, lifting you with him, his cock never slipping free. The world blurs â the television still buzzing nonsense in the background, his sweats pooling uselessly around his ankles now â while he hoists you with raw strength and need.
âIâm gonna fuck the shit out of you,â he growls against your swollen lips, his voice guttural, ripping through your bones.
You try to speak, to gather your thoughts, but his lips claim yours again. You canât process the chaos inside you: his words, your words, the flood of emotions crashing against each other. By the time you catch your breath, youâre already back in his bed, his hands stripping away whatâs left of your clothes, his sweats abandoned somewhere in the living room like forgotten proof of restraint.
The air feels different now. Heavy. The very atmosphere of this bedroom â where youâve spent countless nights â shifts, thick with something deeper than lust. Your nipples harden under that same cool air and then Tedâs mouth closes over one, hot and wet, his mustache scraping and tickling your areola until you moan, sharp and unguarded. He groans in return, the sound moving through you, feeding your need.
You both fall into the mess of tangled sheets, bodies pressing, clutching, desperate.
âLet me worship youâŚâ The words spill from him like a prayer as he drags his mouth down your body, leaving heat in his wake until he reaches your soft, yielding stomach.
âShow me that the risk â that the hurt, the pain â show me it would be worth it.â
Those words nearly undo you. Not in fear, not in regret, but in the way they rip through the very last of the walls youâve ever built, tearing away the last fragile boundaries you thought youâd kept. You realize, with bone-deep certainty, that this man â the one trembling before you, baring himself in the most fragile way â is worth the same pain, the same risk, the same love.
You nearly gasp as his cock slips from you. It had been buried there for so long, so deep, so constant, that its sudden absence feels like a wound. Your body clenches around nothing, desperate to drag him back in, and you almost weep at the loss. Ted notices immediately.
âSo needyâŚâ he hisses, dragging his fingers through his messy curls, smirking down at you like he owns every inch of you.
When you give him lip, challenge his authority, try to talk back â your voice sharp, daring â his response is instant. A firm, stinging smack lands against your throbbing clit.
You jolt. A cry rips from your throat. The pain is sharp, biting, but it melts almost instantly into a pulse of heat that spreads through your stomach and pussy.
âStill feeling needy?â he mocks, his pointer finger circling the very same sensitive nub he just struck, rubbing it slow, cruel, deliberate. The ache sharpens, pleasure edging into something unbearable. You wince, your hips threatening to buck up even through the dizzying mix of pain and arousal, you bare your teeth at him and talk back once again.
His eyes darken and his palm rises.
Another smack. This one harder.
Your weeping cunt jolts under his touch, your clit thrumming from the impact of his massive hand battering it, over and over. Each strike makes your body shiver, your thighs trembling, your voice breaking into ragged moans that only fuels him more.
âGod,â he nearly weeps, voice cracking under the weight of the realization. His chest heaves against yours, eyes glassy as if the truth itself is breaking him open. âYou came into my bar for a reason.â His tone softens, low and reverent, as though heâs confessing..
âI watched you for what felt like hours⌠after I shouldâve left. I shouldâve been home, working on campaign letters, minding my own.â His hand drags lower, fingers parting your folds with deliberate care. He gathers the slick mixture of your arousal and the remnants of his climax from before, warm and dripping as it seeps out of you. His breath falters at the feel of it.
âBut I couldnât walk away.â His eyes flash with memory. âThe way your hair was pulled back⌠that work outfit⌠how you sat there, so calm, so content at my bar top.â He shudders at the image, his lips trembling before he pushes a finger deep into your soaking cunt. The sound of your body welcoming him makes his jaw clench.
âI had to have you,â he groans, forehead falling briefly against yours, the weight of desire and fear colliding in his words. âBut I was so⌠so scared.â
You can hear your own heartbeat thrumming in your ears. Heâs never been this vulnerable before, this open with his words and feeling â and it roots you to the spot, your chest aching with the weight of it. Even as your body trembles around the pressure of his finger buried knuckle-deep inside you, just as he slowly slides it out, leaving you fluttering in a haze.
Keeping his eyes glued to yours, he brings his glistening finger to his lips.
âBut nowâŚâ his voice cracks, ragged from restraint, ââŚall these nights. All the dates. All those mornings I made you tea and stacked an ungodly amount of pancakes in front of youâŚâ His throat bobs, and his breath stutters as his tongue slips out to taste his finger, licking your essence from it.
The intimacy of it shatters you. Your lungs hitch, your ears burning hot as your breath falters in uneven bursts.
âI should have said it when you didâŚâ he mumbles, licking his finger clean as his gaze burns, almost breaking.
Your chest tightens, everything in you bracing for what comes next.
And then â finally, the soft, raw, devastating truth â he finally breathes the words youâve been aching for in return:
âI love you too.â
The look between you both seems to burn, your eyes tangled in a pull neither of you dares to break. Your lips part as if youâre going to speak, but Ted cuts you off with a half-crooked smirk, his head shaking side to side ever so slightly â his eyes dark and knowing before he speaks. âYou donât need to say anything⌠I know, I know.â
âI want you in this bed,â he growls, voice low, vibrating with lust. âTonight. Tomorrow. Always.â His mouth crashes to yours within seconds, the kiss molten and consuming â less a kiss and more a claiming. His tongue slips his lip and dives into your mouth, his teeth graze, his breath mingles with yours until you canât tell where you end and he begins. Itâs not gentle. Itâs filth. Itâs Ted finally showing you how deeply youâve unhinged him.
He fucks you that night until your body can take no more, until the sheets reek of sweat and sex, until you collapse into a sleep so heavy it feels as if youâve been drugged.
And when the morning comes, you stir to the sound of drawers sliding, wood thudding. Ted stands bare and unashamed at the dresser, his cock heavy and swinging between his thighs, sweat still clinging to his back and the slight curve of his stomach from the night before. The muscles that he has, ripple as his big hands shove things aside, clearing space like a man making room for what he refuses to ever let slip away.
Not just making more room for your clothes.
Making room for you.
âQuite the change in your demeanor from yesterday, hm?â you finally tease, your voice husky, lifting yourself up in the bed, the sheets twisted and pushed aside from the remnants of the night before. Your skin is still flushed, your body heavy with satiation.
Ted doesnât turn right away, though your sleepy tone â the one heâs grown addicted to â pulls at him. A grin tugs at his lips as he shuts a drawer, his movements unhurried, deliberate. Then he glances over his shoulder, eyes glinting with something darker, something hungrier. âA lot can change in just a few hoursâŚâ
The silence between you sparks, magnetic and electric. The stare you share is a current, crackling, threading heat between your bare bodies. It feels as though youâve become his private anthem, the one song heâll never stop replaying, the one rhythm heâll live and die by â your name echoing in his throat like a prayer, a curse, a promise while you think about filling you with his load, over and over. So warm.
Condoms are an afterthought now. An artifact of a distance youâll never return to. You want all of him. You took all of him. Raw, unguarded, nothing left in between. No barriers, no shields, no fear. Itâs all out there now. And you know youâll never go back to the timid, fragile moments you shared before this.
And yet, the one thought seems to claw at the back of your mind, sharp and relentless⌠âhow could she have left him?â
You donât linger on the thought too long, not when he begins to notice, and then his body is already folding back into yours. His weight, his warmth, his scent â all of it pressing you into the bed.
âWhereâd you go, pretty girl?â Tedâs voice is low, a question but also calming, as it starts to pull you back from wherever your mind dared to wander.
You blink as you shake it away quickly and slip your fingers into his â locking them tight, grounding yourself in him. âIâm here⌠donât worry, Iâm here.â
He studies you like heâs memorizing you, scanning every detail of your face. Then, with a tenderness that makes your chest ache, he brushes a few stray strands of hair away, tucking them back behind your ear with the curve of his roughened fingers.
âYou do that a lot, ya know?â he mumbles, his thumb lingering on your temple. âIâm always catching you in some kind of thought.â
You canât help but smile at his words. Thereâs something disarming, almost devastating, about the way Ted notices the smallest pieces of you â the habits no one else bothers to notice. Even your constant drifting into daydreams, your mind forever running down winding tracks. Somehow, instead of finding fault in it, he simply sees you. Observing you for a moment before pulling you back.
Your fingers tighten around his, a silent thank you, before you lean in and brush the faintest kiss against the corner of his mouth. âJust happy, thatâs all. Happy in thought,â you whisper, your voice softer than you intended.
He smiles back, wide and genuine, the kind of smile that makes you feel like youâve built a home inside his chest and when you retreat from the kiss, he holds your gaze. âGood,â he breathes, the word warm against your lips. âMe too.â
The sun filters through the slight sway of the curtains, pale light flickering over the two of you. A crisp draft sneaks in from the cracked window, a reminder that the seasons are shifting, that time is moving forward. Still, for now, the two of you remain close, cocooned in warmth, tangled in sheets that smell faintly of last night.
Eventually, Ted shifts, breaking the silence with his familiar routine. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed, stretching his back before standing, his body already angling toward the dresser, toward clothes, toward breakfast. Toward normalcy.
But not this morning. Not today.
You catch his arm before he can take another step, your insistence bright in your voice. For once, you want to turn the rhythm of this ritual on its head. Youâll make him breakfast while he stays with you, while he pours the tea. At first, he tries to argue, his stubbornness bubbling through, but it doesnât last long. You know the truth, the tides have turned â youâve already won. His reluctant smile gives him away before the words do.
You find one of his t-shirts and pull it over your head â the same as youâd do every night youâve stayed. It hangs loose and soft against your bare skin, nothing beneath it, just the way Ted likes. He, meanwhile, scoops up the sweats he abandoned somewhere between the couch and the bedroom the night before, pulling them on and cinching the strings with an easy tug.
Together, you drift toward the kitchen, the morning air quiet but full. Ted finds his phone scrolls through it, thumbing through emails and texts, his face dimly lit by the screen. âMight have to go into the office today,â he murmurs, almost distracted.
The words sting more than you expect, a sharp little twinge in your chest. But underneath the ache is something stronger â certainty. This isnât casual anymore. You arenât some âmaybeâ he entertains between obligations. You can feel the shift in the way he speaks, in how he shares his day with you now, pulling you into the mundane details of his world. The things he once labeled âboringâ or âunnecessaryâ for someone temporary, someone undefined.
You steady your smile as you start pulling ingredients from the cupboards and fridge, clattering them softly on the counter. âThatâs okay,â you say lightly. âIâve been meaning to go to that farmerâs market outside of town. Maybe Iâll finally pick up those apples I keep talking about.â
At that, Ted glances up from his phone. The corners of his mouth lift into a smile thatâs impossibly tender, the kind that roots itself in your chest and refuses to leave. âOh yeah?â he says, placing his phone onto the counter. âWanna bake an apple pie later?â
Your head snaps back to him, the sharp intake of breath â you find yourself caught off guard by the tenderness of the suggestion. A domestic gesture, nonetheless. Something so small, yet so deep with meaning.
âBake⌠a pie together?â The words tumble out of you, fragile, your voice cracking under the weight of surprise.
Ted notices instantly. The way you sound, the look in your eyes â it makes him falter. His mouth twists as if to swallow the vulnerability back down, to undo it. âOr we donât have to,â he mutters quickly, shoulders lifting in a shrug that pretends at nonchalance. But it isnât nothing. Not to him. Not to you.
Youâre already shaking your head, already trying to reach for him. âNo, no. Ted, I ââ
But he cuts you off, words tumbling out before he loses the nerve. âSorry if Iâm making this weird. Or⌠going about it the wrong way. Itâs just ââ His hand moves in a restless circle over his chest, right where his heartbeat pounds beneath the cotton of his shirt. His eyes flicker to you, then away. âItâs been so long since Iâve done this. Since Iâve⌠felt this.â
The confession nearly breaks you. That he thinks he should apologize for this? For loving you too quickly? For giving you what youâve been aching to hear for weeks? The absurdity of it makes your lips curve into a trembling smile as you fight against the sting in your eyes. A breathy, awkward laugh escapes you, thick with relief.
âGosh â no, Ted⌠donât apologize. ItâsâŚâ You swallow hard, grounding yourself, your voice firm even as it wavers at the edges. âYes. I would love to bake an apple pie with you.â
When his hand drops from his chest, he doesnât hesitate. He reaches for you, arms stretching wide before wrapping you in his embrace. His body swallows yours, firm yet achingly gentle and he presses his lips to the crown of your head. The kiss lingers, slow and reverent, as he inhales your scent.
âI really do love you,â he whispers, the words breathed into every strand of your hair, as though heâs trying to stitch them into your very being so youâll never doubt, never forget, always know it.
After the tender moment, he slips away to take a call while you focus on breakfast. The scent of butter and maple syrup clings to the air as the skillet sizzles. When he returns, phone still pressed to his ear, his gaze immediately hooks on the underside of your ass cheeks â peeking, perfect, just at the hem of the t-shirt you were borrowing, the only thing youâre wearing.
You flip another pancake onto the growing stack, pretending not to notice, when faintly you catch his voice behind you: âYeah, Iâll see you there.â
A sly smirk curves your lips as you hear his footsteps draw near, slow and deliberate. His presence wraps around you before he even touches you, and then his hands find your shoulders, kneading, rubbing down the tension. âI could get used to thisâŚâ he whispers against your ear, his voice thick, husky with lust. âSeeing you like this. Cooking for me. In barely nothing, but somehow everything, all at once...â
Your breath stutters as his hands roam lower, gliding from your shoulders, tracing your sides, mapping your curves. He glances down at the hem of the shirt, his fingers hooking under the edge before lifting it, slow and deliberate, revealing the perfect swell of your ass.
âGodâŚâ His voice cracks into a groan. âIf only I could eat this instead.â
And you donât deny him. Not for a second. Your knuckles tighten against the counter, spine arching as you wiggle your hips in invitation. âSo do it.â
The noise that leaves him is primal â something between shock, hunger, and worship, just like last night. Before you can even second-guess your words, he drops to his knees behind you like a man starved.
You gasp as his massive hands seize your ass, squeezing, kneading, pushing the cheeks together, then spreading them apart until you feel utterly exposed, vulnerable yet wanted in a way that makes your thighs tremble. His breath fans hot against your most forbidden place.
âFuck⌠yesâŚâ he rasps, voice ragged with reverence and lust, before his tongue drags over your tight, puckering hole. The sensation makes your entire body jolt hard against the counter, a shocked cry ripping from your throat.
âFuck! Ted!â you moan into a whimper, one hand slipping off the counter as the spatula you were once gripping, clatters uselessly to the floor. He doesnât notice. Doesnât care. His face is buried between your cheeks, devouring you, his tongue working your asshole with relentless precision.
Sweat beads along your spine, your breath stuttering in broken gasps as your eyes threaten to roll back. His thumbs dig into the plush of your ass, prying you apart wider, locking you in place so you canât escape the obscene worship heâs unleashing on your tight hole.
The wet, filthy sounds echoing from between your cheeks are pornographic â slick, sloppy, obscene beyond reason. He never slows, not once. His tongue thrusts into you, spearing your tight ring of muscle, stretching your hole open in greedy, pulsing strokes.
Every bit of training, every toy, every moment you spent preparing for this with him â all of it paying off now as your body yields to him, trembling around the pressure. You feel the impossible fullness of his tongue pushing deeper, filling your ass in ways you never dreamed possible, and it shatters every last shred of restraint you had left and when you think you canât take anymore, he slips away. The back of his hand wiping away the mess that covers his face.
Tedâs breath scorches against your ear, hot and ragged, each exhale making your legs tremble beneath you.
âIâm gonna fuck you now,â he hisses, a promise more than a warning. You hear the subtle thud of his sweats hitting the floor again, followed by the wet sound of spit as he slicks his cock. Once, then twice â just enough to make sure heâs dripping before his fingers return to you, sliding through your mess, pressing inside to test your stretch.
You bite down on your bottom lip, bracing, every nerve pulled taut with anticipation. Your eyes flicker toward the small kitchen window, staring out at birds pecking at seeds in a feeder, so innocent, so ordinary before you shut them tight just as you feel the thick, unyielding pressure of him entering your hole.
His lips stay pressed to your ear, his voice low and coaxing you through it.
âYouâre doing so good⌠deep breath, baby. You can take me, I know it. Let me inside that perfect ass.â
Your knuckles whiten as your grip strangles the countertop, teeth sinking deeper into your lip until you almost taste copper and then he sinks all the way in. Youâre split wide, stretched to your limit, every inch of his cock buried deep in your ass. Ted drops his forehead to your shoulder, gasping like the sensation has stolen the air from his chest.
âFuck⌠oh, fuck, you did it. You feel unreal.â His words tumble out, praise spilling like water over a broken dam. His hands slide over yours on the counter, anchoring you there, grounding you through the overwhelming fullness.
Then with no time wasted, he starts to move. Relentless. His hips slam into you with brutal rhythm, his pelvis clapping against your ass in hard, wet slaps that echo through the kitchen.
âFuck! Fuck! Fuck!â you cry out, your voice breaking in time with each punishing thrust. Drool pools at the corner of your lips, spilling down your chin as your eyes roll back, white flashing as the pleasure consumes you whole.
Breakfast is now long forgotten. The pancakes you carefully stacked now sit abandoned, cooling on the counter because Ted is too busy claiming your ass, over and over, like it was made just for him. Sweat runs in rivulets down his temples, dripping onto your back and onto the borrowed t-shirt as he groans and whines, his cock dragging against every ridged vein of your asshole, molding it, mapping it, owning it. Making it his.
One of his hands tears away from yours, sliding down, while forcing your torso forward over the counter until youâre bent just enough for him to hit deeper. The same hand snakes to your front and suddenly his thick fingers are pressing against your swelling clit â two of them, working in rough, desperate circles.
âOh, fuck⌠youâre gonna come before I do,â he pants, his voice breaking. âI canât, fuck â I wonât come till you do, baby. Câmon. Câmon⌠for me.â
His hips piston harder, the sound of skin smacking against your ass, continuing to fill the kitchen, blending with your ragged moans. His fingers torture your clit, rubbing harder, faster, in sync with his thrusts until your legs threaten to buckle beneath you.
âNgghh! Ted! Oh, Ted! Fuck! Ted!â Your voice is wild, your body wrecked. Youâre drooling down your chin, your neck flushed and hot, your face a mask of ecstasy and desperation. And still, he doesnât let up â he keeps you right there, perched on the edge of collapse.
âCome for me,â he growls against your ear, and the demand rips through you like a saw.
Your thighs begin to shake violently, your stomach tightening. Your whole body seizes as the orgasm tears out of you, violent and unrestrained.
âOh! My! GOD! â Iâm coming!â you scream, so loud the walls canât contain it. Neighbors, if he had any, would hear but you donât care. You couldnât stop yourself if you tried.
Your release gushes through you and instead of slowing, Ted pounds harder into your ass. His once-circling fingers now slam inside your cunt, curling perfectly, making you grind down on him helplessly as wave after wave of your orgasm drowns you.
Ted isnât far behind. His rhythm falters. Hips jerking, breath ragged as if heâs fighting it, trying to hold back, but then he breaks. With a few more brutal pumps into both your pussy and your ass, he unravels completely.
A strangled groan rips from his chest, loud and almost angry, as he releases, flooding your stretched asshole with hot ropes of cum. It pours into you in thick spurts, so much you swear you can feel it pulsing through every nerve ending, spilling deep where only he belongs, where heâs so desperately tried to be.
His release is messy, guttural. His voice cracking into a yell before it drops into desperate whines. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, his mustache damp against your sweat-slicked skin, muffling his own vulnerability as if heâs ashamed of just how hard youâve undone him. His cock twitches violently inside you, still pumping seed into your wrecked hole, his body shuddering against yours.
A breathless, almost disbelieving giggle slips out of you, breaking through the haze of overstimulation. The sound makes him tense, but you quickly reach back, fingers tangling into his hair, grounding him. âDonât hide your face,â you whisper through gasps of air, voice laced with tenderness and ache. âIt just shows me how much you really do love meâŚâ
Those words freeze him â force him to lift his head. His eyes, still glassy with release, lock with yours. Theyâre raw, unguarded, and you see it â that fear, that need, that aching truth heâs carried for too long, all over again. His lips tremble into a small, broken smile.
âAnd I really, really doâŚâ he breathes, the confession trembling out of him, heavy with everything heâs never dared to say until now.
Your lips meet. Soft, unhurried, tender. It isnât just a kiss; itâs the unspoken language of everything youâve both still have left unsaid. When he finally slips free of you, the two of you drift into the shower together. Suds cling to your skin as you laugh, water splashing off the pane and tiled walls. His smile, his laughter, the way his eyes crinkle with unguarded joy â your chest aches as though your heart might burst. The walls are gone, the boundaries dissolved, leaving nothing but him â whole, raw. Totality.
Dressed and warm once again, you trail behind him into the living room. He adjusts his bolo tie with practiced precision, rolling his sleeves up after sliding his jacket into place. He looks as striking now as the first night you met, though the man before you feels infinitely closer.
âGet Granny Smiths,â he says, glancing at you over his shoulder, voice firm yet casual. âTheyâve got good tartness, and they hold their shape better when you bake them.â
You clutch the towel against your damp hair and nod with a smile tugging at your lips. âIâll be sure to get them.â
For a heartbeat, silence lingers between you. Then Ted bends, his lips brushing your forehead and holding there, lingering almost too long, until he finally forces himself to pull away.
âI left a spare key on the counter,â he mumbles against your skin. His voice dips softer, weighted with promise. âDonât bake that pie without me.â
The tears come at last â hot, brimming, slow and soft â but theyâre the good kind, the kind that sting because youâve held them back too long. You nod, voice catching as you whisper, âI wouldnât dare.â
âGood girl,â he replies, low and certain, that same conviction he wears like a second skin. Ever the Mayor of this silly town, but now entirely yours.
What an incredible ride! Thank you to everyone who's been here since the first chapter. We have finally reached the end. I may do an epilogue later in the future but for now, the story has ended for these two.
I still have tons of stuff planned for Ted though, so always be on the look out. Thank you again. If you enjoy my work, please consider reblogging as it's the best way for others to enjoy it too. Likes are also appreciated! âĄ
Tagging (please inform me if you want to be removed): @iamasaddie @pokayyto @perotovar @cassiuspascal @berryispunk @chasingthepoguelife @madpanda75 @lady-artemis27 @elvenhymntoelbereth @shivispunk @cosmickid-inmotion @beezusvreeland @eviispunk @glitterspark @crumbs-from-the-algonquin @decadent-hag1 @worhols @picketniffler @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @68saturnism @sad-bitch-disorder @melmel-fandom @jadesmultifandom @anabdaniels @savedyounine @valevntine @half-moon16 @katw474 @sir6texu-blog @magicxmiller @daniel-bruhhl @baronessvonglitter @tagged-by-trauma @kirsteng42 @marcuspikegf @mythicalea
I am so sorry if I forgot anyone, I do plan on making a form to fill out for better organization and future use.
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summary : the world has fallen, but in the walls of jackson, a new life grows. you remember before the outbreak, mothers used to play music for their children. or, the guilt of bringing a baby into this world, and joel miller plays guitar for his two girls <3
warnings: fluffâŚfluff and angst. so much fluff and angst. god your teeth will ROT so bad youâll need to call the dentist. seriously like fluff ALERT. age gap undefined, using game logic i guess here, joel is like 55 and reader is younger (undefined) but in my head sheâs in her 30s <3 (but can be anything.) joel calls himself an old man like once. no use of y/n, you and joel are expecting a baby girl. AAAA but thereâs so much guilt and pain from like. bringing a child into this world. joel miller is possessive and eeeeeeeveryone knows it. also warningbpregnancy
authors note: yeah guys idk. iâm ovulating. i NEED to be pregnant with joel millerâs baby itâs not even a want anymore itâs a NEED. a requirement. i just got possessed writing it in the middle of the day. itâs been a long few days of jet lag, so much jet lag. and also uni pre reading came in and itâs destroying me so badâŚelectrical engineering is not my friend đđđthis isâŚnot my usual, ive also never been pregnant before so like. help. constructive criticism is 100% welcomed. AAAAAH im thinking of making this a series like a cherry pie universe where joel + reader raise a baby in jackson (OF CORUSE AN AU WHERE HE SURVIVES. WHAT THE HELL IM NOT EVIL.) so please like comment if u want to be tagged!!! i love reblogs and comments so much <3333 joel is a girldad a girl father pedro pascal please never stop playing dads <3 you give me joy and hope. as im posting this im stuck on this long ass drive and thereâs barely any internet pls free me. like this sucks idek when itâs going to be posted, hopefully harry castillo pt 2 will b out soon this week !!!
itâs as if the world fell to pieces yesterday, when had been a mess for years. you barely remember the before, before when the world was sunnier.Â
thereâs the guilt, guilt in carrying the life in your stomach. guilt that youâre bringing her into this world, full of hate and death. guilt you bring her into such a broken life, with the infected crawling outside jacksonâs walls. but it takes a village â maria and tommy were always here to help, so was the rest of the townsfolk.
and there was joel, sweet sweet joel. your husband, the father of your child. heâd always place a hand over your swollen stomach, proud that heâd marked you as his. proud that you were carrying his baby, his very blood in you. he was so gentle with how he stroked your stomach, how he laid a big hand where you guided it, to feel your daughter kick.
youâre sitting next to him now, on his couch. heâs so warm, and in the last month of your pregnancy, youâve been feeling all too cold. your hands feel frozen, and he holds them in his own big ones, rubbing them between his own, lacing fingers, pressing palms. itâs good, warm. it feels like life and sun, and not like the cold that you know lies behind jacksonâs walls.
âjoel?â you look up at him, and he can never refuse those big doe eyes of yours, so wide, looking at him like he hangs the moon and the stars. youâre younger than him, seen less violence than him, heâd been a raider, killed. and youâŚ?
you havenât. youâre like the sun, luminous. you shine brighter than anyone else in the room, shine even brighter with the glow pregnancy brought out in you. he likes that youâre heavy with his seed, likes that heâs claimed you and everyone in jackson can see that. his star, that he caught whilst hanging the moon. his star, he chose to keep for himself.
âmm?â he grunts back in a reply, his hand gently stroking your knuckles, he likes the dips of the skin there, from the days spent working in the farm. yet soft from all the creams heâd found for you on patrol.Â
heâs handsome, the years havenât been kind to the world, to him. but theyâve been kind to his face. his eyes are big and brown. and they look down at you with such care.Â
ânevermind.â you blush, after a second, ducking your head, turning your face away so he canât see the expression on your face. he loves it when you smile like that, it turns him into mush inside. all shy and ridiculous, like a startled deer.
âgo on darlinâ?â he asks, keeping his hand on yours, keeping his warmth with you.Â
âitâs silly joel.â you sigh, before turning back to him, thereâs a fondness in your eyes that he sees as they flick down to your stomach. you slip away a hand from him, and press it to your stomach.
âi just.â you pause, something lodged in your throat, âi justâŚâ
he frowns, his hand covering yours on your stomach. fall is colder now, and youâre wearing a knit cardigan to keep you and the baby warm. she isnât kicking or anything, but you seem so sad, his heart aches.
âyou jusâ what, peach?â he asks, his voice all low and gravelly, dripping with worry, his eyes are wide as he looks into your face. heâs always scared with you, scared that something will happen, scared that heâll loose you too. scared that youâll slip away like tess did, like sarah did, like everything good was taken from him.
scared. scared that you would go, and so would his daughter with you. somewhere where he couldnât find you, orpheus, he would make a deal with hades to bring you back.Â
âyou donâtâŚâ you lick your lips, and take a deep breath. heâs worried, possessive, doesnât let you out of the house in the last month. he has a hand hovering over you, your stomach, like he tethers you to earth. âdonât worry joel, nothingâs wrong with me.â
âor baby?â he asks, voice rough. of course nothingâs wrong with her, or youâd say something.
âor the baby.â you exhale, and he feels your cool breath on his fingers, comforting, you are alive. alive and in his arms.Â
âthen what is it, sweetheart.â he traces circles on your stomach, itâs an odd feeling, but you like it. âcâmon, you can tell me, promise, this old man wonât laugh.â Â
ânot that old.â you sigh, your hand finds his chin, and you rub the stubble lovingly. he needs to shave, and soon. âitâs just, i donât even know if people do it that often these days, but god. i want my baby to listen to music, heard it helped with development and all that.â
he sees the tip of your nose twitch, and the tears mist your big eyes. the guilt, the guilt of bringing a child into a world like this.
âpeachâŚâ he sighs, and tucks a stray strand away from your face. âpeach, you ainât doing anything wrong by her, by bringing her here.â
âfeels like i am.â you choke out, and she has a loving father and mother, a sister in ellie, an uncle, aunt. a village behind her. it takes a village. and yet. your heart halts, because she will never have the ordinary joys of what a baby would have had before. toys, stupid dancing fruits on the phone, cartoons. small things.
âhow about i play some music, âkay?â he lets out a breath, and when he gets up, the chill seeps into your bones. the empty space beside you, once with his warmth, now with the cool pooling around you.Â
he comes back a few seconds later, the guitar in his hands. he props up a little further away from you on the sofa, but close enough so that you and the baby can hear him well.Â
he sets it up properly, tuning the strings with ear memory. each pluck of the string is gentle, like he is with you, his fingers big and thick and playing each note perfectly.
âyou are my sunshine.â he starts, his fingers playing the chords perfectly, and you swear youâll start crying this very second. the hormones, no, his love for you is choking you.Â
the song is so sweet, wrapped up in his rough cadence, like he always has wrapped his love in. he plays it carefully, plays it without tearing up â failing that when he sees you cry. some words get caught in his throat as he continues singing.Â
you can feel your daughter kick, and you rest your hand over your stomach as he plays, sunshine â you both are his sunshine. he hasnât even seen her, and he knows that sheâd be like the sun incarnate, just like you. his two stars that he will always orbit, always have their warmth light up their world.
âshe kicked!â you call out to him, and he stops playing immediately to cover your stomach with his hand, feel the little feet kick against his hand. his heart thuds in his chest as he feels them, feels your hand grasp his.Â
heâd never realised he could get something like this â deserved something like this. ever had the chance to get something like this, after everything, after the world falling to shit.Â
youâre going to say something, but it gets caught in the kiss he gives you, all so soft and sweet, his chapped lips against your own soft ones. youâre heavy with his child, youâre completely his, and you love it so much.Â
he holds you a little tighter at night, kisses you slow, like eating his favourite cherry pie you make. itâs nice, knowing someone like you carries his daughter, someone like you makes his life worth living, every day.Â
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