dilf-docs

[dilf-docs]

Snow At The Beach, II. Day Two: Shared

summary: forget the divorce, sharing a room with harry is way times worse.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (late 20s/late 40s), (eventual) smut, s2l, forced proximity, one bed, tons of angst, spoilers for materialists +more specific to be added per chapter!

word count: 5,339 words

side note: the hotel has two tiny beds but we'll pretend it's one for fic purposes MOVE ON also i apologize to my gc girlies about the delay for this (especially ary) lol (,,>﹏<,,) this is for u 🫶🏼

part: prev | masterlist | next

One thing about Harry Castillo, is his smell is a character itself. Strong cologne, wafting through the air with a presence that demands to be looked at. Seen. It makes your head dizzy, as he stands a couple of centimeters away, while Axel scrambles to get his own key.

"So he has two copies to give us but can't find his?" Harry whispers, leaning closer to you. A little too close.

(You're so touch starved, it's pathetic. A man this close, a man you dislike, on top of that, shouldn't make you this tense)

You nod, unable to give much insight. "He's nervous"

He lets out a small chuckle, a sound that looks like he isn't supposed to let it slip.

"Are we that bad?"

You smirk. "Speak for yourself"

He returns your gesture. "Keep that up and you'll sleep on the floor"

"What a gentleman" you snort.

He shrugs. "This is a four star hotel. The floor can't be that bad"

You can't help but throw a genuine smile his way.

"Yeah, it probably has a better rating than an average hotel back home"

Funny, didn't you want to kill him minutes ago?

"You don't know many hotels, do you?"

He's teasing you, by the lopsided grin he's giving you.

"I apologize, Harry. Do you happen to be a hotel connoisseur or something?"

"I have enough travel miles and money to be one"

You don't get to ask anything else because in that moment, the housekeeper's husband speaks.

"Find it!" Axel raises the key. "You, follow me"

You both look at each other before exiting the small cabin. Outside, the wind blows, and the distant sound of the rumbling wind serves as a lullaby to soothe your beating heart.

It's happening.

You're about to share a room with Harry, a complete stranger who doesn't think nicely of you.

(One you don't think nicely about either)

You observe the grass, how it extends across the field, infinite like the sea. There are some horses, eating it while neighing softly.

"Pretty view, isn't it?"

Harry looks at you, then the horses.

"We can't have that in America" he pauses, "or at least where I live"

"Yeah, New Yorker here" you chuckle while poiting to yourself in a rather lame manner that seemed funnier in your head. "Manhattan isn't exactly the place to search for nature, is it?"

He gives you a pointed look, and you wonder if you've said a bad thing. Before you get to correct yourself on whatever you might've said wrong, he cuts you off:

"Funny"

You blink slowly. "I don't think what I've said-"

Harry cuts you off again. "You're from Manhattan?"

"Yes. Lower" you answer when you manage to find your voice again. "Wait, are you too?"

Axel finally stops on a cabin, pulling out his keys. Only then you realize how really far the cabins are from each other.

"Upper" he replies.

"Huh. That explains a lot"

Harry doesn't get to ask what you mean with that because the door cracks open, Axel motioning you both inside.

"After you"

Ah, the kindness that made you daydream like an idiot minutes ago is back. Great.

"Thanks"

Inside, the cabin is exactly what you would've expect of a luxurious retreat. Two rooms: the living and dining room combined, while the other side holds the bedroom and bathroom. The roof is low and the interior is warm, colored walls ivory and interior design filled with wood: in the walls, in the roof, covering all the bathroom and on the furniture.

"I'll leave you to adjust. If you need help, find me where you know"

With that, Axel is gone, leaving you with Harry alone. It's fine. Not like this will be your reality for a whole week.

Harry drops his bags with a thud on the couch and starts wandering inside, not bothering to chat anymore. You sigh, placing down yours with delicacy (and centimeters away from his) and doing your own look around.

The place is iluminated by the sun, the light reflecting on the marble floors. You wander slowly in measured steps, checking out the small cabin in awe. Maybe vacationing wasn't so bad at all, even if you had to share your retreat with Harry.

You wander to the bedroom, only to find him there, standing still with a rather unpleased look on his face. You follow his vision only to see him staring at the middle of the room.

"There's only one bed"

He rolls his eyes. "I'm not blind"

You narrow your eyes, starting to get irritated again. "I was just pointing it out"

To make conversation, you know? Asshole.

"Well, maybe don't point out obvious shit I can see with my own eyes"

You scoff, this time outloud. "Asshole"

"I heard that" Harry speaks, stern, facing you. It reminds you of your mom scolding you for using bad words when you were a kid.

"Good. You aren't deaf either"

"You don't have to be a bitch, you know?" he shoots back, standing tall and imposing against your figure.

"Funny coming from the man who started acting like a complete dick for no reason!" you reply, refusing to back down.

"If you hadn't agreed to share-"

"But we did" you cut him off, stern. Harry rolls his eyes, "and I'm not having this conversation again"

He crosses his arms, then uncrosses them, huffing angrily.

"Don't act like a child"

"I'm not"

"You are. So I suggest you act the age you look and start unpacking and settle in, because I'm tired and all I want to do is take a shower and sleep. So, if you excuse me, a relaxing bubble bath is what I'm going to do right now instead of bickering with a grown ass man"

You move past him, purposefully bumping your shoulders against his.

(Or well, his chest. He's taller than you. But the point still stands!)

He chases after you. "Oh, I'm so sorry princess, for disrupting your perfect paradise lonely vacation for one"

You stop, eyes wide. Then, turn around, nostrils flaring.

"You've got a real damn nerve to say that, asshole. I don't see your lovely companion either, where are they? Hmm?" you provoke him, not expecting any valuable reaction.

"That's none of your bussiness" he replies, harsh. Still, you don't back down, the pent up anger of arguments you never won, bubbling with simmering rage to the surface.

"Neither is mine yours, yet here we are. They never taught you not to poke the bear, Harry?"

The lines on his face deepen, as so does his scowl. "Shut up"

"I bet you drove them insane too. Not even the promise of a luxurious vacation in fucking Iceland could make them stay"

You know you've gone too far. His façade falters. Barely noticeable, and then the hard bitter wall is back up.

"You know nothing about me"

You don't know what you're supposed to reply to that. For a moment, the guilt creeps up.

"Good" you reply, voice trying hard to remain composed, a certain finality in your tone. "I plan it stays that way"

You close the bathroom door a little louder than needed, letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding. You hate fighting. It was an unspoken rule of you, to try to avoid it as much. The noises, the pain, the words thrown like daggers-- meant to pierce and wound. It was too much. You hated feeling too much. It overwhelmed you, and just the thought of allowing such things to crawl up your skin and come out in ugly words made a pit in your stomach grow.

You couldn't stand the thought of being mad at someone. Of being in bad terms with anyone. Not even the worst of your enemies.

And then he happened, with his fading love and loud yelling for the wrong things, like his mistakes were yours to bear. Like you were the mistake. The mistake of his life.

Long gone was the man who you once saw as your bestfriend. Your soulmate. The one to grow old with. The guy who knew where your socks were and learned to love a band because it was your favorite. The one you saw in highschool hallways, hoping he'd notice you. To look your way just once. Who was shaking and blushing when he first asked you out. The one who gave you a ring with a gemstone bathed in blue; your favorite color. Who slid the same golden band in front of a crowded room, and kissed you to seal a promise to love you forever.

The tears mingle with the shower, falling to the floor and losing in the stream. It runs down your back, like a warm hug. But it's not enough.

Forever is the sweetest con.

And you couldn't fight back. You watched it crumble in front of your eyes, waiting to find a solution or a big realization that it was a dream. That he was wrong, crawling back to you. But he didn't. You didn't know how to speak in a language of broken hearts and despair, of the death to come. You raised your voice when talking didn't matter anymore. When he was too far to reach. When he didn't even want to take your hand back anymore. Or hold you. Or love you.

How do you even grieve someone who isn't gone? Who simply made the choice to not choose you?

So now you're here, in Iceland, sharing a room with Harry Castillo, a man who seems to carry the same burden of forlorn you do. You wipe the steam from the glass and see your eyes. Tired, empty, red. Like a mirror. And that scared you.

I plan it stays that way.

You exit the bathroom, going for your luggage in the living room, only to find him there, making himself space in the couch as he's looking at a computer.

"God! You scared me" you exclaim, almost dropping the towel. "What are you doing here?"

He looks you up and down for a brief moment, making your cheeks flare up.

"Sorry for the unexpected visit, princess. I should've warned you I have nowhere else to go" he drops, sarcastic. You let your anger cover the fact the nickname, even if mocking, makes your skin tingle. "And for your information, I am trying to relax. You recommended I should do it myself"

You wince at the reminder of the earlier fight. "I meant in the couch"

"You saw the bed, don't you? There's only one. So why don't you draw your conclusion, Sherlock?"

You roll your eyes, moving to your suitcase. "I just need my pajamas"

"Am I stopping you?" he spits, typing on his laptop aggresively. "Be my guest"

He makes an exaggerated reverence, only fueling your annoyance.

"Anything else, m'lady?" he's back to looking at the screen, ignoring you. "Am I importunating you in any other way? Please, let me know"

You don't answer anything, going to change. You're not gonna have this conversation with water running down your bare legs and a peek of your cleavage on display.

"Yes, actually" you return, one minute later. He looks at you between confused and irritated, like he can't believe you're back.

"We were already done" he's quick to reply, cold. "I have stuff to do"

You shut the laptop with force. That earns you a disapproving Hey! from Harry.

"You won't sleep on the couch" you say, firmly.

He scoffs, giving you a narrowed look. "What? You need space for your luggage?"

You roll your eyes. "No? There is plenty of storage-"

"Listen here, y/n" he cuts you off, name used to berate you. Second time since you arrived. "We may be sharing a room, but that doesn't give you the right to tell me what to do"

You give up, throwing your hands in the air.

"Just quit acting like a martyr and sleep with me!"

For the first time, you see the older man blush. Deep red. It rises to his chubby cheeks and neck. Makes his eyes blink slowly and then open wide.

"What?"

"Oh, no. No. No, no, no. Not like that!" your face flushes, mimicking his own. "I meant, in the bed. With me. I mean, because I'll be there. I'm not saying sleep with me. Just- I meant to share the bed"

He lets your ramble finish and then speaks, amusement and disbelief still clinging to his tone.

"Why would you want that?"

You bite your lip, debating if you should tell the truth. You sigh; it's not like you were a good liar, anyway.

"Because I feel bad"

"Look at that" Harry can't help but smile, "you do have feelings"

You scoff, crossing your arms. "Don't make me regret it"

"What? Sleeping with you?" he teases.

He's back at it, at the small bridge you seemed to have built before Axel left. You throw him a pillow from the couch, biting back a grin.

"Ouch, rude" he gets up, the tight t-shirt he's wearing riding up a bit, exposing some of his soft sunkissed underbelly. You try very hard not to drift lower, to his sweatpants. Enough.

(Maybe Danna was wrong, and you didn't end up fucking a viking but a grumpy old man)

"One more and you'll have to cozy up in the floor" you playfully threaten.

"Not even the couch?"

"You lost that privilege a sentence ago"

"You're so mean" Harry follows you into the bedroom, "I don't think I'll last the week"

"You're scared I'm going to hurt you, big boy?"

What's gotten into you? Seriously. The red coat from earlier returns, and you find you actually love the sight of big angry Harry Castillo blushing more than you thought.

"I'd like to see you try" he coughs up.

You walk to the bedroom in silence. If there's an unspoken tension lingering, you must've imagined it.

"It's small" is the first thing he says upon seeing the bed.

You take a brief look at him, then at the bed. "I think we fit"

"Back to back?"

"A pillow barrier in the middle"

He smirks at your comment.

"What? Not into contact? Scared you're gonna like it?"

"That's strike two" you cough, trying to cover a flush. "Remember the floor awaits for you"

He chuckles, raising his arms on defeat. "Fine, a pillow barrier it is"

After borrowing some pillows from the couch, each of you get ready to sleep in your respective assigned sides.

"Well, there it is. Equally divided"

"What is mine, is yours" he jokes. You don't laugh. Too many painful memories attached to that.

He clears his throat in an awkward manner, before facing the other side. "Night"

It takes some time for you to speak.

"Sorry"

It's not like you'll dump your past on Harry. Not only it's unfair but weird, given you've known him for less than twenty-four hours and much less of being in good terms.

A silence settles in. Not uncomfortable, but not entirely comfortable either. You find it hard to sleep, and you know he feels the same as well. With a reduced space and the quiet tension, it's hard to toss and forget.

"You said you lived in Manhattan"

You look to the window. The moon casts a soft glow over the sea of green outside.

"Yeah" you reply after some time, voice quiet. "Lower East Side"

"Tribeca"

You turn around, and he can see your wide amused eyes over the pillow barrier.

"There is something you aren't telling me"

He grins, looking back at the roof. "And that is?"

"The luxurious retreat and Tribeca. I had to use almost all my savings from the bank" you pause in disbelief. "What do you even do? To have all this... money?"

"I thought you didn't want to know me"

You cross your arms, tossing on the bed and back to giving him your back. Harry doesn't know why, but it disappoints him a bit.

"I'm curious, that's all"

A silence extends until he says, softly.

"Finance"

Another silence until you reply again.

"Of course"

He chuckles lowly. "You keep saying that like you know the answers"

"I'm just saying it because it makes sense"

"You're good at reading people?" Harry asks.

You make a small pause before answering.

"No. I just think you're easy to read"

The crickets outside and the quiet beat of your hearts create a soothing symphony. Your eyelids start feeling heavy, and sleep starts to creep in. And then, across the calm of the night:

"Do you think there's a reason we never met?"

Your eyes shoot open as you jolt awake, heart beating loudly in your chest, painful against your ribcage.

As if it meant something. Providence, maybe. The universe speaking to you.

Why, after years walking the same streets, breathing the same air, looking up to the shared sky, had it crossed your paths. You were a believer. A hopeless, at that. It had to mean something.

"Because I'd kill you at first sight"

You hear him laugh, like, really laugh, his body shaking, rocking the mattress as well in the process. Butterflies erupt in your stomach, and you try to convince yourself is the sound catching you off guard as your laughter joins in. Besides, you always loved making people smile; the funny friend.

"We just hate each other that much, don't we?" Harry says after his laughter has quiet down.

Yours dies down as well.

"Just a week, Harry. And you'll never see me again"

There's a certain pressure in your chest you aren't quite ready to address when you say it.

"Just a week" he repeats, voice rough. A jolt courses through your body at his grave tone.

"Goodnight, Harry"

In a soft voice. Like it was meant to prove something words couldn't express. That you didn't dare to say out loud.

I don't hate you.

"Goodnight, y/n" in the same tone.

And maybe, for a moment, you think this trip wasn't such a bad idea, after all.

The morning's soft rays filter through the window as you blink your eyes open, letting them adjust to the light. The spot next to yours is empty. You hate it's the first thing you notice.

You walk barefoot to the kitchen, only to find Harry sitting there as he sips coffee, laptop open.

"You're awake" he says without raising his head.

"What time is it?" you ask in the middle of yawning.

"Time for you to wake up" he closes his laptop with a thud.

"Funny" you walk over and cross your arms. "Breakfast?"

He sips his coffee without looking. "I skip breakfast"

"To me it seems you don't know how to make breakfast"

He raises his view and meets your gaze. "I'm a busy man"

You suppress a grin. "The finance guy who lives in Tribeca can't cook. Noted"

Harry huffs. "Do you always wake up with the prospect of ruining someone's day?"

You shrug your shoulders. "I can't say I sympathize with people who skip the most important meal of the day"

"Is it that important to you?" he asks, the permanent scowl back on his face. "Besides, these pantries are empty! What did you want me to do?"

You look around the kitchen, checking around. "I'll give you a pass. For now"

"Wow, I feel honored to be in the shadow of your benevolence"

You roll your eyes, walking to the room and softly closing the door. When you come out, ready for the day, Harry's there, at the other side. As if he was waiting. You don't miss the way he sizes you up, either.

"Yoga pants? I hope you didn't come to the other side of the world to do some yoga"

"Do you always wake up with the prospect of ruining someone's day?"

He chuckles, unamused. "What are your plans then?"

"Black sand beach; you can't have that in Manhattan. But for now? I'm going to find something to eat. Unlike you, I hold my breakfast vows close to heart"

"Sacred" he mocks.

You linger in the room, like perfume. Perhaps waiting. Holding to a quiet hope without knowing why you cared so much.

"You?" you try instead.

He purses his lips. "I had a list of things to do, but it seems silly now"

"Can I look at it?"

Harry doesn't know what takes over his body when he says it. Maybe it's the softness of your voice, like what he had to say matters. That it wasn't a question to fill the silence or be polite, but a bridge to join a path that seemed to run in different roads as of now.

"Over breakfast"

The soft hum of the place settles like a blanket. Warm, heavy. Dishes, quiet murmur and cuttlery. A place to belong but not be noticed. He likes that.

For a second, he's not the intimidating Harry Castillo who works on private equity and lives on a penthouse with too much room for one lonely man who is never there. The one people stand up for when he walks in, out of respect. Of fear. Bending silently to the power that wafts through the room like his cologne. At the raw click-clack of his expensive shoes, each step expesively timed.

Here, the waitress pours the bitter regular coffee without bothering to look at him. Fills it to the rim. It spills, but she doesn't have the attitude of someone who fears being shouted at. She feels free to make a mistake. Doesn't know his name and doesn't ask for it. She just doesn't care. Eva, on her chest. Has a dry kindness that isn't practiced for shiny men with shiny bills to hand so easily like a napkin, just another worn custom of the work routine she's held onto for the past three decades.

"Thank you" he says, anyway. A habit.

"So" your voice cuts in, and he's back at looking at you. "Waterfalls, whales, nightlife and... why is there a volcano here? Did you plan to jump into it?"

"Making assumptions like that is bad manners" he quips, smiling regardless. "Would you like it if I assumed you're a cheapstake for driving us two hours just to end up on one of the worst dinners I've ever been to my life?"

"Not all of us are loaded, Mr. Castillo. I need to save some expenses. And, honestly? I don't think you'd ever been to a dinner before. This place is like four stars at best! Besides, my question is valid. I don't see how visiting a volcano can be any fun"

"Why wouldn't it?" he challenges, hiding a grin behind his cup.

"It's hot, hard to climb and just lava. I could watch a documentary for that in the comfort of my bed and with my AC on"

"Where's the fun in that, cheapstake?"

"Watch your tongue and eat your eight dollar breakfast"

He rolls his eyes before eating a bite of his eggs. "So bossy"

You examine Harry's list again. Things to Do in Iceland. Curated by someone who's still in their honeymoon phase, given their sidenotes drenched in the high of a love that's just started. It's cheesy. Cliché.

It's for two.

You wonder the one it was meant to be for. Harry's person. The one who should be sitting across him, in a nice restaurant, talking about the weather, the itinerary. Of kids and getting married on a lovely place like Iceland. On more vacations. Not across a stranger in a faded cheap dinner, eating greasy sunny side-ups instead of benedict eggs.

It's a ghost he carries around. Not like a prize; he doesn't want pity but looks like he could use a hug. It's just part of who he is now. The regrets and hopes. Born and torn by heartbreak.

You feel a little guilty about the exchange from last night. It was so wrong of you to throw it on his face like that. You were angry; hurt. Tired and ashamed.

"I think the waterfall is nice" you bite your toast. "I'm still going to the beach today thought"

"Alone?"

You give him a weak smile. "I have to get used to it"

Harry wants to ask why your voice carries a strain. Why you seem to talk with certain doubt, like you can't decide if you could say more and better or choose silence. Why your chest grew heavy when you saw the couple on the booth near the door kiss. Why you bottle the same feelings that spill from your eyes: sad, nostalgic, melancholic. Bitter, even. Why you bother hiding so much the truth, like saying it out loud would make it real for everyone, including you.

"Mind if I join you?"

"Don't get used to it" but there's the faintest of a smile grazing your lips. "We aren't glued to each other"

"If your plans are better than mine, I might have to stick around"

"Like a virus" you joke, ignoring the way your heart races.

"Like a friend"

The bitter taste of coffee raises to your throat. You clear your throat, chest oddly constricted.

"Are we friends, Harry?"

He gives you a small smile. "It's better than hating each other, right?"

Your expression mimicks his. That's enough of an answer, you think.

You sip the last of your tea before speaking again: "I have no plans, though"

"You're joking, right? I saw the printed reservation. Is this a hidden camera prank? You're the annoying kind of precautious"

"I wanted a change from little miss organized" you shrug.

"For this life changing one person trip?"

"For once, I'll let life make the choices for me. Maybe it's better at it than me. Were it leads, I'll follow"

"Alright" Harry chuckles. "Don't get spiritual on me, baby"

Baby. It slips, but doesn't feel like a mistake. A calling. Natural.

"I literally googled the beach on the airport" you say, which is a half truth.

Harry grins with mischief, the gesture almost boyish. His face looks younger even.

"It certainly lead you, huh? One Google search away"

You roll your eyes, standing up. "Funny"

"Where are you going?" he asks, standing up as well. What he means is Can I come too?

You drop twenty dollars on the table as Harry awaits for your answer, expectant. You swallow harshly.

Harry's gaze softens, and you wonder if this is how he looked at them, a rare vulnerability reserved for that special somebody he'd let his guard down.

But they're not here, and he's with you.

You sigh, giving in. "Wanna see some waves?"

The truth is, you did google it, but you chose it for other reasons. It showed in one of the airport's posters, and you were so captivated by it, you almost forgot where you stood for a second.

Black was Andrew's favorite color.

Maybe it still is. You don't know. There's so many of him that you don't know anymore.

And it's funny, how people you know become strangers whose name you can't erase. You hear them in songs you played and places you visit. Their face haunts you like a lingering nightmare, tattooed on the skin they touched. Kissed. Loved. They'll remain in the place they carved in your heart. Even if they lost it, even if they didn't deserve it.

Memories are forevermore. So is heartbreak.

Your mood must be written all over your face because Harry walks over to you.

"Is everything okay?"

You open your hand, letting the sand fall from your fingers. Slipping. Like he did.

"Yeah. Just thinking"

"It's rude to think of other people when you have company, eh?" he tries to joke.

The air is impregnated in salt. The wind blows on your face, hair let loose.

"I'm sorry"

He smiles, like he understands. Doesn't push, out of respect perhaps.

"Nothing to apologize for"

You look at the water and it's infinite expanse. In a way, the lull of the flutter of water soothes you.

"You know, my mother used to take us a lot to the beach growing up. I remember I was so... afraid of the water. Not even Peter, being five, would fear it. But I did. I thought it would swallow me whole"

Because I was smaller. I feared being small. Not standing out. People always looking down on me. Insignificant.

"You were probably too young"

"Twelve" he laughs, a soft rose blush tinting his cheeks. "After, I grew, in many ways. Then, summers were shorter and we were too busy to go back. I think it's been a while since I last went to the beach"

And now he's standing here, next to you, shoes discarded and sand on his toes, just to feel something.

"I can't imagined you being scared" you tease. "You scared me back there, at the lobby"

Harry snorts. "You're making that up"

"For a moment I thought you'd kick me out. That scowl of yours must terrify your competition"

"You did say I would wrestle you for the key. Just remembered that"

"See?" you can't help but grin, lazily. Relaxed. "Scary"

"There are worse things"

You look at your feet, deep in the black expanse of sand. I thought it would swallow me whole. You think you get it know.

"It'll pass, you know?"

You look up, at him. "Does it?"

"Trust me" he faces the sea again, "I've been there"

"Now?"

He smiles, sadly. Resigned, maybe. "Always"

"Love is hard. Might be the hardest thing in the world"

When Harry looks at you, is like he sees himself. As if, for the first time, someone speaks his same language.

Someone just understands.

"We agree on something. Look at that"

"Other than my idea to come here was great?"

"You can't lose, can't you?" Harry teases.

"I'm a winner"

But saying it outloud leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. And as usual, it's so easy to tell. You look away, in shame.

"Why does it feel like I'm always losing thought?"

A beat goes until Harry speaks:

"You said I was easy to read. I think you're too"

You turn around, eyes glassy. "Yeah?"

You don't realize a tear has slipped until he wipes it tenderly away. It makes your chest feel tight.

"Yeah"

"You think highly of yourself"

"No" he sighs. "I'm a believer"

You look at your feet, anything to avoid looking at him. "What do you believe in?"

You hear his breathing. Soft. Sure.

He looks at you before speaking.

"Love" a pause, "And good food"

You laugh, and he does too. When you feel it hit your chest, you realize just how close he is.

"Didn't know you were a food critic?"

He smirks. "I just like to enjoy myself. I have the money to do that" then leans as to whisper a secret. "Speaking of which, I heard there is a place with eight restaurants and two bars inside a historic building. It's called The Old Diary Food Hall"

"You're letting life guide you now too?"

He gives you a lopsided grin, shrugging his shoulders. "Something like that"

You let out a breathy chuckle, looking at the sea. "Destiny, then"

Harry watches the sea, ripple crashing into the shore, seafoam as a skirt, making a bubbling sound. Loving is easy, a voice in his head says, and he hates thst its hers. He hates that maybe, she was right, after all.

His words bubble up like soda. "One Google search away, actually"

You bite back a grin. "Copycat"

"I'm trying to learn from the best"

He smiles your way, tender. The feeling comes crashing down like waves, sinking in your bones like the sand between your feet. It disarms you. The way he looks at you. The way he sees you.

Harry.

Because, maybe, the leap your heart does is dangerously familiar, one you hadn't felt in a long time.

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @a7estrellas/ dts: @thecamiladiazuniverse @kaliispunk @manuymesut @QueenoftheAmazons

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your wish has been granted, fellow pedrobrina lover

read here

[dilf-docs]

we need MORE husband!pedro x younger!reader!!! I absolutely love the series!!!

thank u dear anon for loving what began with a request and my delusion to be his controversially young wife/failed actress dream, new part is here!!!!

[dilf-docs]

https://www.tumblr.com/dilf-docs/790090581513781248/httpswwwtumblrcomdilf-docs789363978995482624

Mess going around?

u better stay away from this train hate p's getting of incels, maga and terfs flaming him and invalidating his anxiety

better read the new ciwyw installment lol

[dilf-docs]

newest part out now !! read here

series masterlist. +18 (minors dni). reposting and/or translating is not allowed.

part one

you and pedro are married, but you've kept it a secret up to the point you sometimes forget there's supposed to be a golden band on your finger. but then you both get cast in your first movie together. the chemistry is off the charts, and it starts to catch upon you: will the lines between shipping and reality finally blur?

part two

your relationship is finally out to the world. now, pedro and you will explore what it feels like to have your love out in the open.

part three

becoming an actress has always been your dream, and this job you've taken to be elvira lind's assistant is a step closer to doors of an industry so far has only given you meaningless extra role's, but you get more than you bargained for.

part four

it's been a few weeks after the turmoil of coming clean with your marriage. to loosen up, you decide to have some fun with your husband. no one better to help a girl out than your dear friend.

more parts to come! (until the song runs out of lyrics or i run out of requests lol)

Y/n L/n Goes On A Chicken Shop Date

Y/n L/n Joins Brittany Broski's Royal Court (TBA)

First Date! (TBA)

I Want To Wear His Initial On A Chain 'Round My Neck (TBA)

©dilf-docs all right reserved. last updated: april 26th, 2025.

[dilf-docs]

I'm Doing Better Than I Ever Was

husband!pedro pascal x younger fem!reader

summary: it's been a few weeks after the turmoil of coming clean with your marriage. to loosen up, you decide to have some fun with your husband. no one better to help a girl out than your dear friend.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, bondage, cuff play, pedro i'm into submission pascal, cowgirl, praise kink, daddy/mommy kink (papi and mami use), creampie, brina cameo stream manchild

word count: 3,960 words

side note: based on this request (the rest? blame my freaky mind, but a wise guy once said if you're hot you're freaky and-). you know i love pedrobrina as much as the next gal (i peaked on snl 50 weekend),,, another part to call it what you want RAHHH ++ showing off the new taglist as well YUP 🫡 (thank u for loving this series so much!!) fyi, this part takes place in between the timeskips between interviews in the first part ciwyw of the series, yet, it is after the london premiere!! ALSO, I ALR SAW F4 OMG visuals, villains, mother vanessa, THE SPACE, dynamics and that's my reedro FUCK HATERS TRULY #WeLovePedroPascal ⋆˙⟡♡ (release the extended version cowards!!)

part: prev | masterlist | next

"Can you tell me where we are going?"

You smile with mischief. "Not yet"

It's November, and the year almost comes to an end: a year filled with a whirlwind of emotions you can't quite place. The high you've been riding since the reveal of your marriage has slowly dwindled down into the quiet peace of before. Well, as much as you can: you keep receiving negative comments from time to time, despite Pedro's post and declarations. While it stings a little, you've gotten better at ignoring it.

Despite it all, life seems to smile at you: with a hot and loving husband by your side, a movie coming out soon and job offers on the way, you're certain what the Internet has to say about you or your relationship isn't your priority.

He tries to pull his blindfold down. "Can you at least give me a clue?"

"Okay" you swat his hand away, "it's a friend of mine"

He chuckles. "Sounds like it's more of a surprise for yourself"

You see the Crypto.com Arena through the window. You go back to looking at him, tugging yet again his blindfold. You've been granted a few rest days between interviews and before the Big Day (the movie release), so, you came up with an idea to have fun.

"No peeking" you gently remove his hands, giggling. "Impatient, aren't we?"

"When my wife basically kidnaps me-"

You snort. "Kidnap you?"

"You know I'm all for kinky but this is weird. We've been driving around for like an hour"

"LA traffic" you respond, simply.

He sighs. "Yeah, it's a bitch. Still, I wish I could tell what the hell your surprise is, because I don't want to end making it into TMZ again"

"That was two days ago, let it go" you roll your eyes. Then, smirk. "You're not very good at guessing, are you?"

"I'm competitive"

The car stops. "Doesn't mean you're good at it, does it?"

"What are you implying?" as the engine turns off.

"That you couldn't get it right" you take the blindfold off. "Time's up"

It takes a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the light, blinking several times. Then, as you get out of the car and offer your hand for him to take and follow, Pedro gives you a puzzled look.

"This is a parking lot"

You smirk. "Not just any parking lot"

He looks around, until he sees a logo. "What does that-?"

"Just take my hand, silly"

You guide him out to the venue, the sun still up, hitting in your faces. Realization dawns upon his face: lips parting, eyebrows raised and paused blinking.

"This is a concert"

"Not just any concert"

He looks at you, eyes narrowed. "If you keep saying that cryptic shit and don't explain it to me, I swear. I'm too old for this"

"Welcome to Sabrina Carpenter's Short and Sweet tour!" you exclaimed, gesturing with your hands excitedly.

"Who?"

"Sabrina Carpenter" he shakes his head. You sigh, "Brina? My friend?" Pedro shakes his head again. "Espresso?"

"Actually, I had one this morning before you kidnapped me, thank you very much"

"No, bobo" you tease. "The song. It was all over the radio!" (dummy)

"Oh. Oh" he begins mumbling gibberish to the tune. "That one? That's her?"

You nod.

"Alright, it's catchy, I'll give you that. Still, what does that have to do with me?" Pedro huffs. "I'm more of a Fleetwood Mac man, baby"

"Look, P... trust me on this one, yes?"

"The thing about trusting you is that it goes either really good or really wrong"

Now it's your turn to huff. "You can't speak without seeing first"

"You mean... hearing?" Pedro replies with a cheeky grin, earning a begrudging laugh out of you.

After walking down some stairs, you take him to the VIP section, waiting for the show to start. While at it, you show him the songs from the album and some of the old ones that are your favorite. In the end, he liked Sharpest Tool and Good Graces, even asked who Dumb & Poetic was about. Said Bed Chem reminded him of you. Laughed in amusement at some of the lyrics from Slim Pickings and the fact Jenna Ortega starred in the Taste music video. Also thought Paris was cool and Feather catchy.

"Maybe you're a true Carpenter"

He rolls his eyes. "Don't push your luck"

The show started off with Taste, which you sang from beginning to end. Then, Good Graces followed and so on. You were having a good time, dancing and singing along to the setlist, enjoying the dances and Pedro's attempts to singalong even if he claims time to time his hate for karaoke. You know he's doing it for you, taking your hands under the lights and dancing from side to side, which makes you smile more. With Nonsense, you danced around him, teasingly, making him blush. And then, after Dumb & Poetic, the moment you were waiting for finally came.

"Why is she stopping?"

"I take you were having fun" you grin.

"Um, yeah?" Pedro makes a face. "I'm trying to if this is how I'll spend my night"

"No veo que te esté costando mucho" you mock. (doesn't look like it's taking you much effort)

Before he can reply, the lights turn on and music goes off.

"Is this the intermission? It should've been a while ago"

You bite your lip, holding back a grin. "Yeah, something like that"

It doesn't take that much for your friend to spot you, equating your mischievous smile. You had planned this in advance, yes, but that didn't mean you knew what she would do or say, so when she grabs the microphone to speak, you brace yourself.

"Would you look at that?" Sabrina's voice says. "I think I've seen you before, yeah. I'd never forget a face that cute"

You giggle while the camera points at you. People cheer when they recognize you, some for your work and other fans of your friend for the pictures you've posted of yourselves together.

"Me?" you playfully ask, although the screaming and sound drown it out.

"Yes, you" she points. "Wait, hold on" the singer then raises a hand, and the dancer next to her leans as to whisper in her ear. "We just got a message"

You give Pedro a side look. He's visibly appalled at everything that's happening, your poor old man.

"What's going on?"

You just chuckle, the camera still on your face. When Sabrina speaks again, you pretend to be shocked and confused.

"So, I've been told" Sabrina's voice say. "Something just landed from space"

The camera pans to Pedro, who goes from squinting confused eyes to surprised open wide.

"The sexiest bounty hunter from the galaxy is here tonight!" Sabrina giggles, pointing with her finger towards Pedro as the police sirens buzz on the speakers with the text You're under arrest for being too hot. "And his beauty is otherwordly!"

The entire stadium erupts in cheers and screams, between surprise and excitement. His cheeks go red in embarrasment at the attention and her words, between uncomfortable and flattered. You know it's a lot of spotlight for your husband, but you thought it'd be good for him to feel both desired and poked fun at after such tiring events; to loose up a bit and have fun with you. Besides, you'd be pretty much losing him next year with all the press and filming he'd be doing.

"Surprise" you laugh, and he just gives you a look. One that, from being past half a decade together, you know it means We'll have a little chat later.

"I gotta say" your friend speaks again, interrupting your conversation, "while it may be a job in outer space, I'm pretty sure that's illegal here in LA" the singer to her right gives her something. Cuffs. Pink fluffly cuffs to be exact. Pedro's mouth opens in shock and then lets out a nervous laugh. "I'm sorry, but I'll have to arrest you tonight. And don't you dare fight me on this one. I've heard you can be pretty ruthless too, eh, Joel Miller"

While the crowd continues buzzing, Sabrina kneels on the border of the stage. You get close, taking the cuffs from her hands. Speaking into her microphone, she says with a wink and a playful mirth to her voice: "Have fun"

You blow back a kiss, making the crowd laugh and shout again. As you go back to the VIP area, he's waiting for you.

"I knew this surprise was for yourself, you greedy little thing" Pedro smirks, crossing his arms. "You're crazy if you think I'll wear these"

You give your back to the camera, leaning on him. Tiptoeing, you get close to his ear, and whisper. "Just be a good boy and let me arrest you"

He's glad the cameras are up your faces because he's probably got a boner now. Why did he choose to wear jeans again?

With pink cheeks and a goofy nervous smile, he extends his hands, making everyone laugh and awe.

"Whoever made them, God bless them, God bless their genetics" Sabrina recites as she watches you two, the music to Juno starting. "And my clothes... they will stay on, because my friend will kill me if they don't!"

Pedro gives you a knowing look, making you chuckle as you speak, the camera still on you. "Oh, don't even doubt it"

"I never did" he replies, cheekily. "You can be many things"

"Jealous?"

"I was thinking creative" he places a hand on your back, pulling you to him. The cuffs feel week in your hold, almost dropping as his free hand caresses your face. "If you wanted to tie me so bad, baby, you could've asked"

With a little giggle at you both, Sabrina gets into her position, but before the camera goes back to her, it perfectly captures the long heated kiss between Pedro and you.

"So, about TMZ..." he starts once you pull away for air, Juno in the background.

"They're writing it as we speak"

"Good" he snakes his arms around your waist, pulling you close until your back is pressed against his chest, "then let's keep giving them what to talk about"

Later that night, in your bedroom and after a shower, Pedro looks up at you from the bed, where he's reading a book while he waited for you to exit the bathroom.

You have just taken a shower, body dripping with water. Pedro smells your vainilla body cream, mouth watering. And you know it. His want. You have planned it, after all.

(Does he know you aren't wearing anything beneath your robe?)

"I have to show you something"

He places the book on the table next to him. "More songs?"

"Like Bed Chem? Maybe"

He sits up against the bedpost. "Now I'm listening"

You walk to your nightstand table with a mischievous grin.

"I'm glad paparazzi weren't around. They'd have a field day about it"

He gives you a puzzled look. "What did you do now?"

You grin, playful. "Up for another surprise?"

"For you or for me?" he sits straighter. "Are you going to arrest me again?"

You have to bite back a smile. "About that-"

He sees you bend down (of course he does. His stare practically burns your ass cheeks) and pull a black box from your underwear drawer.

"Naughty girl. You aren't wearing anything"

You look back at his flamed up cheeks. "Don't you have a better question?"

He clears his throat, trying hard to conceal his erection. "How long's that been there?"

You don't answer, sitting on the bed instead, box over your lap.

"So" the box clicks open, "I may have stolen an idea or two from tonight"

Pedro gets closer, and when he sees what's inside the velvety interior, his mouth parts open.

"Is- Is that?"

You pull out the silk handcuffs. The fabric is soft between your hands.

"It is"

"Wow, I wasn't aware you were into that"

You laugh. "Wasn't today obvious?"

"I guess you're jealous I got the spot"

"Who says they're for me?"

Pedro's smile wavers yet his vision darkens.

"And if I said no?"

"I'd have to go back to the store and do a little walk of shame. They've got thirty days for refund"

"Will you kill me if I said I liked the pink fluffy ones better?"

You laugh in adoration at his pout. "But they're purple. It's your favorite"

He finally relents, whispering something like It's for you only. Like he's incapable of saying no to you.

"Do you trust me?" you ask, placing them on his hands.

He runs his fingers through them, and then holds your gaze, voice unwavering as he says: "I love you"

Your cheeks flush, grumbling as he raises his hands with a smirk and lets you bind him to the bedpost.

"Can't let go of your last moments in control, huh?"

"Tell me you love me too"

You tie him up, securing the cuffs. You then peck his lips. "I love you"

After that, Pedro lays back on the bed, wrists bound above his head with the cuffs. His chest rises and falls, anticipation laced with each ragged breath.

"Looking so good, papi"

He gives you a crooked smile, cheeks flushed red. "Just for you, mami. I'm all yours"

With the boost of his words, you find the confidence to sit on top of him. He groans when your ass meets his middle, and you're quick to feel the pressing hard, thick length of him against your core.

"You're eager tonight, aren't you?" you straddle his hips with slow motions, letting a breathy whine out at the effect you have on him, "but I've barely touched you"

He grunts, strangled, as you begin to run your fingers through his chest, feeling his muscles shivering and tensing under your touch.

"Jumpy too"

His eyes flutter shut, a low groan escaping his lips as he arches into your touch.

"Can't help it"

Raspy, right up from his throat. You like how he becomes a mess so easily.

"Keep it up, papi. I love hearing you"

You lean down, trailing kisses across his chest, each flutter against his tan skin deliberately slow, messy and sloppy. A low grunt falls off his lips as you circle his nipples with teasing traces of your tongue, feeling them harden under your licks. You see Pedro's hands twitch and clench in the cuffs above him, body trembling with the effort of holding back.

"It's hard, isn't it? Not being in control? Try to get used to it"

A drowned out moan comes out of his mouth. "I'm trying"

Your fingers wander, lowering, down to his stomach, tracing with care the lines of his muscles as they go taut under the feather-light touch of your fingers. He sucks in a sharp breath, hips jerking up.

"Woah. So you are that eager" you chuckle, re-adjusting yourself.

"Stop teasing" he mumbles, through gritted teeth.

"Don't worry" you reach his happy trail, placing your wet tongue over the hairs. You can feel the heat radiating off his skin, body aching for your touch. Sensible. Eager. You raise your gaze, his expression one of desire and restrain. "I plan to reward you if you behave well"

Pedro sucks another breath as you reach the waistband of his briefs, eyes still boring into his as your movements pause.

"So, will you behave?"

His face is flushed, lips parted as he pants softly. He's at your mercy, a sight so delighfully new a tingl shoots up your core, walls clenching at the view. Then, slowly, he nods.

"Good boy" you purr.

With a teasing smile, you feel him jerk his hips up again, hard cock straining against his underwear, the damp spot visible throught the black fabric even. You could feel his desperation and pain.

"Just... be gentle" he whispers, voice strained and rough.

You hook your fingers into the waistband and tug it down, freeing the angry red head of his thick length, tip glistening with precum. Pedro lets out a guttural moan at the exposure, hips twitching again. Your walls dampen, and you can feel the sticky slick moisture in between your legs.

"Don't worry. Let me give you a hand" you slurr, wrapping it around his shaft. It pulses, throbbs, against your palm. Hot. Hard. The skin soft. Pedro looks at you, and you can feel the distress in his intense gaze as he begs for more.

"But I need to hear it" you pout, teasingly.

"P-please" your husband manages, choked up. "I need you, mami"

You grab him by the chin and place a light kiss on his stubble. His hands twitch again, making you lick your lips and smile in adoration and satisfaction.

"Just because you asked so nicely" you mumble.

You position yourself above him, rubbing the head of his length along your wet folds. Pedro's breath hitches, hands balling into fists until his knuckles turn white.

With a steady roll of your hips, you sink down into him, taking each inch of his throbbing girth into your tight cunt. He throws his head back with a quiet groan, the veins of his neck straining as your walls adjust to his size, clenching and fluttering.

"It fits so... well" he murmurs, strangled.

You can feel every vein and pulse of his cock as it parts your folds, stretching you, filling you up whole.

"Always"

You being to move, rolling your hips with an unhurried pace. Not everyday you have your husband under you, riding him as he's tied. You want to enjoy every passing second, letting your walls grip and squeeze him like a vice, taking him deeper with each minstration.

Pedro tries to meet your rhythm, moving his hips to meet yours, his dick burying even further into your welcoming heat.

"Wait-" you arch an eyebrow at his stiffled tone. "G-give me a kiss"

"Sí, si me lo pides así" you lean down to capture his lips in a wet kiss as you keep riding him, breasts pressed against his chest, making you gasp into his mouth. You break the kiss, sitting back up to take his swollen lips and flushed skin. "Lo que sea" (yes, if you ask it like that. whatever you want)

"So pretty" you whisper, drinking in his dark eyes and damp curls, disheveled. He was lost in your body moving in sync with his, voice rough and ragged as he growls your name. You continue riding him, hips moving in a teasing rhythm. The silk cuffs above his head kept his arms restrained, a reminder of who was in control for tonight. "And all mine"

You place a hand over his chest, feeling the quick motion of his heart, pumping, every heartbeat felt under your warm palm.

"Just yours" he slurrs in a desperate rasp, eyes lost in yours. "You feel so good, please. Don't stop"

Your lips curve, lazily. "I wasn't planning to"

You pick up your pace, a knot forming in your stomach as heat builds between your legs. The pressure is delicious, the amount enough to make you moan at the tightness in your core. You hear the bedpost, looking up to see his body straining against the cuffs, trying to grab you.

"Don't" you warn lowly, his hips jerking up to meet yours. His eyes search yours, pleadingly. "You promised to be good"

"I- I need- please, I need more. I'm so-" he gasps, chest heaving. "I'm so close, please"

You lean down, lips brushing against his ear. "Beg for it. Tell me how badly you want it, and I may give it to you"

Pedro's body quivers beneath you, his cock throbbing inside your clenching walls.

"Please. I- I want to fill you up, amor" he pleads, voice breaking with need. "Let me cum. I'm begging you. I'm so fucking close-" (love)

His hips shudder beneath you, muscles taut. "Please" he begged again, voice hoarse. "I can't-"

His balls were coiling hard, aching for release. He was close, and so were you. Pedro lets out a broken sob, body shaking with effort. Tears glint in his eyes as he looks at you, expression filled with pure raw want.

"I need to be deep in you. To claim you. To fill you"

He bucks his hips up hard, driving deep into you as he buries himself to the hilt.

"Can you feel me?" he asks, looking down, fingers burning with the need to touch you and feel himself in your stomach. You can see his dick, moving. "Please, baby. Please. Let me fill you if I can't touch you. I need you, I want you... Please"

You throw your head back, the pleasure overwhelming as the heat rises to your chest.

"I want you too, baby" you moan. "I want to fell you filling me. Your dick deep inside me, until I've taken every last drop"

Your words push him, his whole body rigid under you as an electric current shoots to his pulsating dick. His pupils are so wide and dark, they look like a supermassive black hole.

"Fuck, mami" he lets out a strangled cry, voice to be confused with a raw groan, "you wanna feel all that?"

You capture his lips into a heated kiss before pulling back.

He bucks his hips up, slamming balls-deep into you. The purple silk cuffs creak, Pedro straining against them.

"Don't worry, papi. We're almost done" you whisper, placing your hands over his tied up ones.

"Good" he urges in a low growl, "because I want your pretty pussy milking me dry until it drops out of your legs"

You whimper, feeling the familiar pressure building between your legs, your walls tighter and tighter, clenching around him, taking him in deeper.

"Then give it to me" you whisper between ragged pants.

Pedro slams his hips up one last time, burying himself to the hilt inside your cunt. His cock pulses with his impeding release as he cries out your name, a low growl coming out of his throat, deep and raspy. Raw. His dick jerks with his release, body shuddering as his length pulses with his thick, hot seed, painting your clenching walls white with each spurt as you ride off your own orgasm, toes clenched and vision blurry; dazed. He clenches his hands under yours, eyes rolling back as you continue to ride through your climax combined, milking every last drop before your body gives up, shaking with your own release.

You let your head collapse on his shoulder, hand falling to wrap around his neck as he tries to even his breath.

Sweat travels down your face as you untie Pedro. You brush some hair out of his face, the damp curls sticking to his forehead.

"So pretty"

His skin is reddish, from sweat and from your compliment. Also on his hands from were the cuffs were. You then take his wrists and kiss them, looking up to smile at him, oh so sweetly, he's abruptly pulling you against him with his now free hands, kissing you like its his last day alive.

You can taste the salt of his sweat and feel the swollen of his lips. Smell his musk and the combination of your releases. You want to thank him for trusting you, for coming to the concert with you and for loving you so much he'd just do anything for you. Because he chose to stay. He chooses it everyday.

You let your breaths sync, and before even getting the chance to speak, he says:

"So, there's an upcoming Beyoncé concert next year. Any interesting ideas for that?"

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @trashcora / taglist: @kellyxo1 @pascal-mynightlyobsession @justkayleighhere @pp4scal @cigdolly @taylorswifts-cardigan @serenity-1221 @he-is-the-destined @lemoncee @bekscameron @lloydmustache (comment if u wanna be tagged!)

[dilf-docs]

i know the post was supposed to come out yesterday but i literally fell asleep LMAO it's been a long week sorry citizens. anyway, let me ask:

if you vote for today, just let me finish class and i'll post it (yes, i have classes on saturday sighs)

[dilf-docs]

https://www.tumblr.com/dilf-docs/789363978995482624/hello-are-you-continuing-call-it-what-you-want

I’m so excited

im excited too!! im just a little self conscious to post it will all the mess going around 😭 i dont want to end up canceled by fic haters ndjxmdks

[dilf-docs]

10 SONGS ON MY 'ON REPEAT' PLAYLIST ❪ SPOTIFY. ❫ 🎧ྀི

i. silver springs, fleetwood mac ii. MONA LISA, j-hope iii. linger, the cranberries iv. otro atardecer, bad bunny ft. the marías v. don't say you love me, jin vi. baby i'm yours, artic monkeys vii. a sunday kind of love, etta james viii. material girl, madonna ix. manchild, sabrina carpenter x. LATINA FOREVA, karol G

tags: @joelmillerpascal @vanishintoyoubby @chateaujoon @deen-djarin

[dilf-docs]

new part is up!! i'm back with this story, i love it so much :,)

series masterlist. +18 (minors dni). reposting and/or translating is not allowed.

There's only two things you know: money and heartbreak.

Born into New York's posh society, all your life you've been surrounded by the lavish of the elite world.

It is this why you meet him: Harry Castillo, the only person in the whole world to get under your skin, enough to know the mask you wear akin to those of the masquerade balls you've attended since twelve.

It is too the reason why you despise him.

Is it too the reason you happen to fall on his bed?

Or, alternatively, the one where you, New York's top divorce lawyer, tries to break off a couple that isn't even married, and that may or may not involve a certain million dollar man whose name you'd said before in a shaky plea.

Chapter Index

I: Strobbing Lights, Circled Calendars

II: Champagne Symphony, Caviar Dreams

III: Foul Promises, Forbidden Games

IV: High Heels, Hushed Whispers

V: Untold Secrets, Uncharted Territories

VI: Terrible Pretenses, Trembling Hands

🔗: main masterlist / tlyitky: the mixtape / wattpad ver.

🏷: @io12n @dowscal @oscar-isaac @joelscowgirl @jxvipike @klarkapascal @lostinmyownmaze @folklore-barnes @alinacecee @sukitruqui @youusunshineyoutemptress @hermionelove @noisynightmarepoetry @ann-gell @suzysface @joelmillerpascal @ennvsco (comment if u wanna be tagged!)

©dilf-docs all right reserved. last updated: june 7th, 2025.

[dilf-docs]

Untold Secrets, Uncharted Territories

harry castillo x younger fem!reader

summary: the more time harry spends with you, the harder it is to understand where you stand now.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, (eventual) smut, foes to hoes, (one sided) enemies to lovers, angst, rich ppl, slowburn, reader may be a bit of a cunt, dbf!harry. additional tags for this ch.: fem. masturbation

word count: 2,195 words

side note: the movie almost releases in my country!! not that i alr watched thru a sketchy link bc ptwt is shite with spoilers.. i'll get my vengeance because f4 releases a day before in my country now lets see who gets the last laugh also pls don't worry abt the ciwyw draft!! it's longer and i just started uni again so it's coming on friday this is a real packed week y'all.. i hope u enjoy this surprise drop citizens ദ്ദി ( ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ ) i love this fic :,)

part: prev | masterlist | next

The moon washes the empty place with a soft white glow. With the quiet hum of people who left.

You nurse a drink inside the warm light of your office, checking some papers. You flip through the pages and yawn. The amber liquid goes down your throat. Bitter. You've seen this client for the last week and still can't remember their face correctly. And their name. Was it Owen or Oliver?

There is a name and a face you can't forget.

Harry Castillo. Tall. Imposing. Brown Curls. Sometimes soft from the day. Silver streaks among the chocolate, ones he desperately tries to hide with a monthly visit to the salon. You prefer when he doesn't try that hard. Rough rebel stubble. Warm eyes. Crinkling at the corner when he laughs. Boy, does he laugh. Rattles your bones. Makes you smile, even if you deny it. Bite your lip to hide it until it tastes like blood. Strong cologne that makes you dizzy. He makes you dizzy.

You hate him. You hate how easily he's gotten under you skin. How you keep thinking about how close he was. How the lights made his skin golden. Softer. You could trace the lines of his face with your gaze. Or how he held you. Like he didn't want to let go. His hand on your back. Steady. His perfume on your dress, refusing to send it to the dryer until your assistant asked about it. The ache in your feet after an hour, yet never sitting down, all to have him with you. Close. Smiling. His eyes shining as he looked down. At you. Like you were someone who mattered. Someone to choose. Like there was no one else in the room but you.

Later that night, you layed in bed, shame settling deep in your stomach. In how you've held to these details. In the space you've given them space in your brain. You clutched your pillow, trying to drown out the screams into the silent echoes of the night. Of how much you wanted him to be there, with you. In how a small tenderness could disarm you and shatter you whole with so much ease.

You hated Harry Castillo. Maybe you didn't at all.

It's late. Your eyes feel heavy. The letters of the pages go blurry. Owen is boring. Oliver didn't take care of his marriage. You don't feel pity for a man like him, like many. Like your own father.

You feel fuzzy, warm. The bottle is at half. You weren't supposed to drink tonight. It's hot. You aren't opening windows, unbottoning your white blouse instead. You're alone, anyways. You nurse what's left of your drink, let it pool into your tired brain. Your thoughts go back to him. Harry. To his arms around you. That Rolex on his hand, the one that fell right above the curve of your ass. His fingers, resting in your hip, soothingly tracing over the silk of your dress. And the warmth of his palm; so big it too swallowed yours.

There's a tightness in between your legs that wasn't a week ago. Your thighs open themselves, and you feel the breeze against your middle. A damp patch soaks your underwear, glistening sex pulsating. Your teeth sink in your lip as you reach down to the opening of your pencil skirt, hand moving the lingerie to the side. You run a finger along your folds, a shiver running down your spine at the sensitivity. Harry. You whine, hand dissapearing completely between your thighs. With wet fingers, you spread your sticky lips apart. You feel the swollen flesh, throbbing. Clenching. Desperate. After taking a shaky breath, your fingers tentatively circle your entrance, applying a light pleasure with your fingertip, shuddering.

Fuck, look at that pretty pink pussy. So perfect, baby. You push the first finger inside your tight cunt, biting back a moan. That's it, baby. Touch yourself. In your office? Naughty girl. Your walls flutter, finger dissapearing inside. You slide a second finger, whimpering softly into the void. Lemme take a look at that cunt. It looks like it needs me. A sharp gasp escapes your lips; it sounds like his name.

Harry.

You pump in and out, following the pace you're used to. "Yes, I need you" you slur, the movements now sloppy against your dripping sex. Desperate. Sweat beads slide from your forehead. Your panties and blouse are sticky. So are your walls. Good girl. With your free hand, you find your sensitive nub and circle it. This time you moan louder, trembling fingers and hips rolling into your touch. Close, aren't we?

You start to rub faster, fingers pumping harder into your clit. The sound of your fingers in and out of your wet heat fills the room.

Come for me, doll. Show me.

With a cry, you muscles go taut, body tense as your back arches. It comes crashing down, vision spotty from the wine and your fucked drunk in pleasure state. Your cheeks go red as your walls clench and flutter around your digits as you ride out your orgasm.

It's time to go home. Joaquín is on time, like always. He doesn't ask, like always. You ride the elevator in silence, the red numbers blurry and the mellow music piercing your ears. You discard your clothes in the dark and throw yourself into bed. The shame settles once again, but when you go to sleep, it's the best sleep you've ever had in years.

When you see Harry Castillo again, he's wearing a red tie. A gift from your father.

You know because you bought it yourself, not knowing who it was for. You don't tell him either.

You blink once, twice. Head and heart pounding. You wince at the llght, at the smell of the bags he's carrying.

At his face, the exact same face you had come to hours ago.

"Brought you breakfast" and a bag from La Grande Boucherie.

"Why?"

"Because their Norwegian eggs with salmon are the best. I also added a capucchino. I know you're not into strong coffees but-"

"No, Harry" you cut. "Why are you here?"

In your doorstep, leaning against the doorframe with ease, as if he's been there since the beginning; like he owns the place.

"In your house, at eight sharp in the morning? Good question"

"Tell me you have the answer"

He smirks. "You can have it if you let me inside and have breakfast with me"

"You're persistent, Harry" while moving aside.

"Only when it matters" as he steps inside, and your treacherous heart does a little flip.

"It better be good"

"At least, I can speak for the salmon. I'll let you be a judge for the rest"

Harry raises the bag, the smell hitting you again. Be it the faltering in your posture or the nausea written all over your face that makes him chuckle.

"Fun night?"

You bite the inside of your cheek, heat flushing to your face.

"Don't be shy, Lady in Red. But I think the color suits you"

For a moment, you think he'll touch your face. Your skin tingles, still burning from the lingering sweat. From the shame. He must see the anticipation in your face. Harry gives you a small smiles, between sad and defeated.

"At least we match"

You grab a glass of water and clear your throat. "Just tell me why you're here"

He sighs, placing the bags on your kitchen island. He takes the cups out of the cupholder and then the food.

"I feel you're bribing me here"

His warm eyes meet yours, crows feet noticeable. "Which is why I bought the best from the menu"

You can't help but smile. "See? Bribe"

He sits down, motioning for you to join him. "I call it investment"

You take a sit, eyeing the food. You decide to test the waters of your queasy stomach trying the coffee first.

"If you wanted to do business, my office opens in an hour"

"I don't see you ready for that" he eyes you up and down. If your face grows hot, it must be the capuccino. "Besides, this more of a... favor"

"You need my help. Again"

Harry gives his muffin a bite, smirking. "Smart girl"

Your thighs immediatly clasp together, looking for some fricition. His low voice, rough from sleep still, despite his shower gel and perfectly ironed shirt. Even his hair, slightly damp, curls hanging over his face.

Good girl.

You take a long sip, not caring about the sting. God, you need help.

He takes a deep breath before speaking. "My brother is seeing this woman. Charlotte"

"Let me guess, another Paul situation?" you quirk an eyebrow, biting your muffin. "Will you tell me the truth this time?"

"Truth is, the truth is quite... pathetic" he smiles, sheepishly, before sipping his coffee.

You sigh. "Elaborate on this woman"

"It's not her. I'm- You see, the problem... The problem it's me"

You swallow. Then blink slowly. "Enough with the riddles. I'm too hungover for this"

Harry smiles. "I knew it"

"If you know me so well" you roll your eyes, "what am I thinking?"

"That you have no idea what I'm doing here. Causing problems in your pretty expensive loft"

"You're too much of a problem, so you need to be more specific"

He hides a grin behind the paper cup as he takes a sip. "You haven't kicked me out yet"

"I'm intrigued. My Wednesdays are usually boring"

"Well, I hope it entertains you to hear I'm a loser"

You hide a grin behind a bite of your muffin. "Maybe you do know me after all"

He winks. "It's part of my many talents"

"Not having a girlfriend, unfortunately, isn't"

His smile falters a bit, corners going down until his lips press into a thin line. He looks almost embarrassed, offering you a shy smile.

"You figured"

"It wasn't hard. Mommy and daddy giving you a hard time?"

He scoffs. "You're lucky to not have any siblings"

There was a time you wanted one. To share toys and play when the maids got bored. Then your mom left, and for a moment, you were relieved the pain was only yours. But then the pain became to much to bear alone, and you often wished you weren't the only one to carry the burden of loss.

"Maybe"

"I don't recommend. The black sheep of the family, youngest, comes home with a girl in hand and suddenly, they're on my back, asking as if it's the only thing that matters. When. Not the money I make, how I've kept the business flourishing, not the status, or the cars. No, it's all about the empty chair next to me. About this dinner coming up and how I haven't brought no one home in years. Questions with the sympathetic smile that reeks of pity. Saying they want the best and refusing to say what they wanna say: You'll end up alone"

You don't know why, but the silver thread of pain in his voice moves you. That Harry had chosen you of all people to tell this, makes your heart do a flip.

"I have asked myself about it, you know?" he traces the rim of the cup, avoiding your gaze. "When is it gonna be my turn"

Before you can second-think, you place your palm over his, soothing. You can feel him tense under your touch, relaxing afterwards.

"Love is overrated"

He chuckles, body shaking, but his hand stays still. "Of course you'd say that"

You don't remove yours either. "You knew"

"Told you, didn't I? That I know you too well"

"Don't let it get to your head" you smirk. "So, let's see. If you know me so well, will I agree to pretend again for you?"

"I don't know, I just hope you do"

Hope. Funny word. There was a time you did too, before you knew the cold and hurt to come. The kind that makes you believe. The one why fools head first. Why a few of your clients had withdrawn from the process, thought you'd never tell that outloud. Why the world still spinned, trying to hold into a reason.

It circles inside his eyes, and you have a hard time finding ways to say no. Because you want to believe too, that naive small kid inside you. The one that never healed. The one that pulls your heart strings and robs you of your frigid sense whenever Harry is around. Because you made your mind the first moment he entered your apartment, diving blind straight into danger; jumping into the water without knowing how to swim. But, you saw yourself in the ink of his sad eyes. Lonely.

"You owe me a lot, Harry Castillo"

Harry looks at you and smiles softly. You do too.

"I'd give you the world if I could, y/n"

Something in his tone settles in your chest, like a butterfly. Or a stone. You gulp, throat suddenly dry.

He squeezes your hand. "Just one more time and I'll let you go"

You don't know why but you hope he doesn't.

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @a7estrellas / 🏷: @io12n @dowscal @oscar-isaac @joelscowgirl @jxvipike @klarkapascal @lostinmyownmaze @folklore-barnes @alinacecee @sukitruqui @youusunshineyoutemptress @hermionelove @noisynightmarepoetry @ann-gell @suzysface @joelmillerpascal @ennvsco @not-the-teen-witch (comment if u wanna be added!)

[dilf-docs]

new fic just hit the town. read it here

all the works listed below are mine. +18 (minors dni). reposting and/or translating is not allowed. requests are open!

All Roads Lead to Rome‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎3k

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©dilf-docs all right reserved. last updated: april 29th, 2025 / cr: divider @kodaswrld

[dilf-docs]

Please please pleaseeee, do another dark Joel miller with a younger reader where Joel has a fat crush on her, like obsessive and possessive fat crush, but she just sees him as her friends dad, but then one day when you visit him, when his daughter isn’t there to drop off some cookies for her or whatever, he uses it to his advantage? PLEASEEEEEEEEEE, I beg, thank you so much queen

HELLO it's been over a century but UMM i just did it??? 🫣 u can read it here !!!

thank u for req'ing citizen :) 🫶🏼 hope u enjoy it

[dilf-docs]

You Could Be The One

dark bfd!joel miller x younger fem!reader

summary: you shouldn't come home when sarah isn't around, because her daddy's got a thing for you-- an obssesion that happens to run deep like water and cut like a knife.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), DDDE 🕊, age gap, dark!joel, dubcon, corruption kink, praise kink, humiliation kink, fingering, pussy spanking, pussy pronouns, dacryphilia, choking, power imbalance, very ooc ahh smut I'M VERY AWARE PPL!! JUST MOVE ON IF U DON'T LIKE IT!!

word count: 5,725 words

side note: dark joel miller comeback thanks to this request (i'm sorry it took over a century BUT I FULFILL jskskks). i've been beating myself over it for a week, so sorry if it's crappy; this is just pwp. fic connosieurs and moralists, don't hmu. also, i'm aware the new updating schedules are monday or/and friday, but i thought it would be fun to post it today bc my last post was june 17th. did u survive the dilf-docs' drought?

Joel's life used to be black and white.

Black coffee, the usual. Bitter. White, like the background of the clock that always rang at five in the morning, not because he needed but out of habit. It had long been since Joel last drove Sarah to school; bought her a car now that she was in college. Black like the dark inside his room, lights turned off earlier than needed, because there was no one else to see to keep them on. White like the faded paint of his porch. He hadn't sat there since the divorce.

Enter a storm of colors: you. Sarah's friend from college.

Joel still remembers the first day he saw you. Pretty young thing, two ponytails for the summer and a floral dress that fluttered too much with the breeze of the Austin night. He should've felt embarrassed, fawning over his daughter's friend, but he made sure to wash that shame away in the pitch black of his room, cock hard and leaking. He didn't bother to clean the mess away, licking it thinking it was yours.

You were a goddamn rainbow. Entered his life like a trainwreck. Two years later, his daughter's bestfriend and his best kept secret. The one who spends half of her time on his house, walking around like you own it.

(He likes to think you do.)

If Joel could pick a color to describe you, he'd choose pink.

Pink.

Like the overly sweet frosting you'd use to decorate your cookies. He'd walk into the kitchen, stealing some, only for Sarah to berate him for the sugar. You'd smile sheepishly, always leaving two trays behind.

Pink.

Like the tongue you'd stick out because he kept bothering you girls, making his daughter groan embarrassed about her overbearing dad. It's girl time, she'd complain, yet you never kicked him out.

Pink.

Like your nails. He loved how they were always the same color. Soft. You always made sure to lightly nudge him during his kitchen raids, your touch electric. So he kept coming back for more; needed your touch like a drug.

Pink.

Like the small dust covering your cheeks when his gaze held a little longer than needed. Something on my face? you'd ask, so sweet and innocent. He'd just chuckle, color darkening a shade.

Pink.

The best part: not the smell, not his daughter's laughter, nor the trays on the fridge. Your underwear. Cotton, he'd guess. The soft material's peak he'd get when you bent to open the oven. Would you ever know he didn't give the old appliance any mantainance so you'd take longer trying to push the door down?

Pink.

Joel could swear your heart was like no other. Shaped like those pink heart-shaped cookies of yours. Coveted in the same color and that saccharine nature of yours that bloomed out of every part of your body. Made you impossible to resist, as one would think of the best dessert there is.

And yet, you don't know. You sweet, pretty, naive little young thing. Walked right into the lion's den, smelling like the perfect goddamn prey.

It's alright, Joel Miller is a patient man. He's just waiting for the right moment to sink his teeth on your tender flesh.

Three knocks at his door. Joel gets up faster than he should. He may not be as young as he used to, but Joel often likes to think there are some things about him that haven't change. Take his senses, for example. Those three knocks: soft but sharp. Decided. Like the person behind the door was determined to fulfill the task they had in mind.

Opens the door and there's you: all sweet smiles and pink cookie batch clutched to your chest. Weren't you always so driven?

"Hi, Mr. Miller" with such familiarity it makes his chest ache. With such sweetness for a random hot Austin day. With such a frail little summer dress he can spot the strawberry pattern of your bra. "Is Sarah here?"

Joel notices how you avoid his eyes, a shy little quirk about you this two years hadn't been able to shed. But he loved that about you. The idea of you intimidated by him hit places a good man shouldn't be going.

Good thing Joel was a bad man, then. A sinner. He wasn't a criminal, but he was the type of man your parents would warn you about. A cautionary tale that smelled like cigarettes, wood, sweat and whiskey.

No responsible father would lust after his daughter's friend. He loved Sarah to death and tried to be the best version of him for her, but goddamn, he just couldn't resist you.

But you're too sweet to notice, the kind of naive that makes men like him weak. Bad men.

"We've been over 'tis, sugar" in that thick drawl of his. "Jus' call me Joel. We familiar 'nough for them Mr. Miller thing"

"Sorry, Mr. Miller" you laugh sheepishly. "Joel it is" and his pants tighten a fraction.

"See? Easy. That better"

"Is Sarah here?" you repeat, a bit louder this time, like he didn't listen the first time, hanging on every little word out of your glossy pink lips. His gaze falls to the container, clutched in your arms. You little jumpy thing. It's your trademark. He feels warm, fuzzy and something more primal.

"C'mon in" before he can stop himself. And you? Pretty and obedient doll do as told. More blood rushes to his tight sweatpants, and Joel wishes you'd glance a bit down his way.

"Sarah?" you ask into the empty house.

Joel grips the doorknob as he closes the door, fists white. If you ask one more time about his daughter, he'll lose it. Nothing personal, he'd rather just have your attention for himself only.

"She ain't here" he drops, no point in lying anymore.

Your turn around, red and confused. "Oh... Well, I'll just leave these here then"

Before you can move, his big hand grabs you by the wrist, tightly.

"You don't need'a rush, sweetheart. What's the matter?" you flush at the nickname. "Ya' don't expect me to eat all 'tis by myself, do ya'? Have a bite with me"

You don't correct him that, technically, the cookies are for him and your bestfriend.

"I'm not sure-" you falter.

His grip doesn't. Joel Miller is persistent, you think. "C'mon, 's bad manners to leave someone's invitation hangin', don't 'cha think?" he presses.

You gulp.

"But I came here for Sarah" you offer, lamely.

Weakly. Not convinced. He smirks, satisfied. You just need a little more pushing.

"Then stay for me"

The way you raise your head up, so quickly a bone snaps in there, is almost comical.

"Easy there, doll. I ain't going anywhere" he chuckles. Why on Earth is the sound so grave and the effect on you so disarming? It's unfair a laugh can be this deep, rich and sultry.

Though, this isn't the first time you've think of Sarah's dad like this. As a menace to your sanity.

The man was attractive. The type of attractive one can tell from the very first moment, choking on your own spit when Sarah introduced him to you. Long curly hair, warm brown eyes and a tanned worn skin that spoke of hard years of work. So did his body: broad shoulders and strong arms. His smell reeked of sweat, ashes and something like wood or leather. Beer on his breath most times, especially on the summer. His soft stomach confirmed his liking for the drink as well. Yes, he was a dream.

But he was also incredibly... intimidating. Joel Miller carried this sort of menacing air to his presence, clinging like a shadow, trailing behind the soft crunch of his worn boots. You often ended up looking at your feet, arm, Sarah even, when he entered the room, unable to meet him in the eye. He stayed, like he knew it got under your skin, reveled on the fact he made your nervous and reduced you to a meek scared little thing. And when he talked to you? His voice alone could subdue you. Just like his laugh: that gruff, husky tone that made your legs wobbly in fear or something else.

It was, maybe, his persistance. Demanding. Insisting. Suffocating.

He seemed the type who wasn't used to a no. Or one who probably just wouldn't allow it. It was on the way he spoke softly yet gave no signs of another option, like right now.

In his dark stare, waiting for you to glance on his direction, almost a dare yet it felt like a trap, one you couldn't fall for: you were sure you wouldn't be able to escape.

You have an idea already of what it would be like as you sit across from him, eyes fixated on the cookie in your hands. Freshly brewed coffee wafts through the air, Joel Miller taking sips with his plump lips.

"S'it good?"

You haven't even touched your mug. He's basically telling you to do so. You place your cookie down and hold it with trembling hands, sip to try even if it's burning.

"It's lacking a little sweet"

He snorts, like he already knew it and was just trying you. "'F course"

The chair creaks as he leaves. When he returns, he appears from behind you, his larger figure practically towering over your smaller sitting form, placing a jar with a loud thud.

"'S honey okay?"

You can't help but smile. "I always use honey"

"Figured"

You take one spoon of honey and mix it. "Am I that easy to read?" without looking at him.

"'M trynna figure that"

You blush under the intensity of his gaze. Take another nervous hot sip, make a face.

"It's still bitter" as you reach for the jar.

"Black coffee" he says, to supply an explanation.

The chair creaks again. He's behind you so fast, you barely register his scent up your nostrils before Joel's leaning forward.

"Lemme help ya'"

His larger hand envelops yours, practically swallowing it, roughness abrassive to your soft skin. He takes your hand and pour two spoons in a tortuous manner that feels longer than it should. He then places the spoon back, his hand leaving yours. It burns-- lingering.

"That's better"

Your throat goes dry. "Better?"

Joel just chuckles, sitting again across from you. But this time it's different: the air feels charged, with an unspoken force that sends shivers down your spine.

"So, Sarah..." you trail off, unsure where to stand or what to say, anything, to fill the asfixiating crushing silence full of uncertainty.

Joel takes another loud sip, clearly unbothered. If you were reaching, you could even say he seemed to be enjoying it.

"Her mamma took 'er out to dinner"

"Oh, I see"

"You wouldn't have known" he offers, lamely.

You bounce your legs on the floor, feet tapping anxiously against the wooden floor. If he notices, he's kind enough to not say anything. You wonder if it's pity or nonchalance. Poor little girl, I just touched her hand and she's a mess.

"No, I wouldn't"

"It was a surprise. She ain't know 'bout it"

He's trying so hard to keep a conversation, you can't help but feel a little guilty. Still, you don't offer much, hands clammy and shaky as you grab another cookie, just to busy yourself.

"'Cause tomorrow's her birthday"

"I know" maybe more cutting than necessary, nerves on edge.

You instantly cringe. That was rude. This poor man is trying to make you feel comfortable, and while he was a bit overbearing, Joel hasn't done anything bad so far. You're anxious and he's making it hard with his imposing cologne and burnt cigarrette smell.

"And what else do you seem to know, sweet girl?"

Your face goes red and the tapping against the board off the charts. He's clearly noticed, hell, heard, now.

"Easy, doll. No need'a be scared" you feel a sudden touch graze your legs, those exposed by the sundress. "Tell me, 'tis big ol' man makin' ya' nervous?"

Your heart stops beating for a moment, your body tensing up, taut muscles making it impossible to react.

"Quit the bouncin', baby" his palm presses against your knee, softly but insisting. "I don't bite" a crooked grin adorns his face, "unless y' wanna"

Your throat goes dry. This is the same man who has opened his door for you, given you a bed to sleep. The father of your bestfriend. How is this even real? Why is he looking at you like he could eat you whole?

Why are you thinking you'd let him?

But you should've seen it coming. Wasn't he clear enough before? His actions were enough for the lack of words.

"C'mon, doll. Cat ate your tongue?" he mocks, like he knows he's got you cornered: he, the cat. You, the mouse.

"N-no, Mr. Mill- Joel, sorry. No, Joel" you ramble, tongue tied as your stomach in knots.

His hand slowly moves up your thigh. You swallow. Dry and hard. A shallow breath escapes past your lips.

"Forget 'bout it, angel. No Joel. From now on, you gotta call me sir. Understood?"

You're about to protest, probably to ask what the hell is going on and how a simple cookie delivery has you with his hands over your thighs under the table.

"I asked somethin', sugar" he chuckles lowly. A drowned gasp falls off your mouth as he digs his fingers into your skin. "Understood?"

"Y-yes"

Joel applies a bit more pressure into his hold. "Just yes? Thought ya' were smarter than that, baby. Don't 'cha know how t' follow summ rules?"

"Yes, sir"

Joel's touch becomes almost light-weight, leaving your thigh where you're sure a bruise will show up in a few days.

He smirks, pleased. "There ya' go. Easy, ain't it?"

You nod, feverishly.

He pats you, almost mockingly, and let's you go. You release a breath you didn't even know you were holding.

"Yes, easy" you chuckle, nervous. "Sir"

Joel smiles. "Don't let it get to y' head, doll, but I'm gettin' real used to the sound of that"

The chair creaks again, and every bone in your body shivers, body anticipating. He stands above you, were you can see every wrinkle and facial hair of his stubble.

"Y' know" he reaches out. You cower at first, but he's quick to grip you by the chin, and yet, despite the force of his hold, his finger runs smoothly across your lip. "If ya' beg so sweetly, I might just give ya' what 'cha need"

He examines you like he can see right through you, those cold brown eyes looking at you with fascination.

"Upstairs" is all Joel says.

This is how you find yourself in the current situation: on Joel Miller's bedroom, inches away from his bed.

It's ridiculous, really, how you decide to notice, him towering you at the moment, but your eyes take in his room, anyway. You may not know Joel that well, but you decide it's very him. Texan, with the old handmade furniture, the chipped wood and the single horse picture above his bed. A pair boots, forgotten by the night table. An ash tray and a pile of clothes on an old chair, signs of years of leaving in the quiet comfortable solitude. After some time you come to realize he may have built most of the furniture you see.

"Like it?" as if he can read your thoughts.

"It's... nice. Lived in"

"Appreciate your thoughts, darlin', but It's kinda lakin' somethin', don't 'cha think?"

"Oh" you chuckle nervously, "and what can that be?"

"You"

Of course. If his crooked smile and hungry eyes raking you up and down didn't give away enough. A tight knot forms in your stomach.

Joel wets his lips with his tongue. "Now, we're gonna have real fun, you and I"

He waits for you, yet you don't move at all. Joel lets out a tired sigh, probably dissapointed by your lack of cooperation.

"Here doll, lemme help"

His rugged hands get rid of your dress, pulling it over your shaky body.

"We've talked about this" another sigh going past his lips. "S'al'ight. I won't hurt 'cha"

"I-I know that" you hold your tongue. "Sir"

He smiles, eyes darkening with lust as he takes in your body, that lingerie he imagined now under his fingers as he traces the cotton with his thumb.

His starved gaze lingers until it gets under your skin. "Do you?"

You whimper as his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down slowly.

"Ain't ya' the prettiest little thing? Knew that the moment ya' walked in" Joel growls, voice thick with want. "And y'gonna look even better naked 'n under me"

He continues the tortuous descent of your strawberry panties, sliding down through your bare legs, the filthy pathetic drowned out noises from your lips against the softness of your skin and the sweetness of the pattern of your underwear making blood rush to his already hard cock.

Joel's eyes shimmer with a hunger so raw, it makes your heart race, heat creeping up your neck.

"Y' like the idea, sweet girl?" he smirks. "'M gonna explore every inch of this sweet sweet body of y'rs and take ma' time, 'cause finally" he inches closer to your neck, breathing in your scent before licking his lips wickedly, "y'r mine"

His hot breath fans over your flushed skin, beard scratching, marking you. Your core throbs involuntarily, pulsing stopping like a swallowed breath when his fingers graze your entrance.

"S'all wet down'ere" Joel chuckles with amusement. "S' much for sayin' ya' don't want me. Don't be shy, angel. I think y' don't wanna admit it, but you do like the idea" his words accompanied by a low, sinful purr, almost threatening.

"N-no" you whimper, "please-"

His lips press firmly together as if irritated. Your walls clench when he removes his finger from your core.

"Sir"

"Please, sir" you whimper.

Joel just chuckles, like making fun of you. He raises his fingers, the one he rubbed you dangerously close to his lips, taunting. As if you were spellbound, you find it impossible to tear your eyes away as it dissappears inside his mouth. He licks it, obscenely, your lips parted.

"Look at that. Sweet as y'r cookies"

His hands now slide down your ass, his calloused digits digging into the skin, bruising, as he pulls you flush against him. You can feel his throbbing, thick length pressing against your stomach.

"Don't be ashamed, sweetheart" Joel growls, the rumble so deep it vibrates through your body. "I just wanna hear ya' say how badly ya' want 'tis"

It's like your mouth's gone dry. He throws your body against the bed, your muscles going taut with fear. Maybe anticipation. Joel then leans over you, hovering like he's trying to cage you under his weight. You look at the night table, eyes lingering on the burnt cigarrettes, sleeping dead on the ashtray, holding onto anything, all to avoid looking into that gaze which threatened to consume you.

"What's wrong, baby?" he asks through a low tone, his erratic breath ghosting over you.

It's like a wave of clarity heats you. There, laying over the old wood, another portrait: curly loose hair, toothy grin, a purple t-shirt with a rainbow, and that unmistakable eyes that hadn't changed a bit.

"Sarah" you whisper.

The shame, guilt and fear hit you all at once. The hesitation from before becomes nausea over the idea of letting your bestfriend's father so close to you, let alone being in bed with him.

"W-we can't, Jo- sir" you bite your lip, anxiously chewing. "We can't-"

He follows your gaze, landing on the picture. He sighs softly, hand reaching out to place the frame down.

"Don't worry, doll. She don't need'a find out 'bout what we'll do"

"It's not right-"

"I think y'r body's not agreein' with 'cha, baby. So don't give me that crap"

You close your eyes, body ridig. You hear him click his tongue, then let out a heavy sigh. Next, his fingers caress your cheek softly as he removes some loose strands from your face. You open your eyes, only to find him smirking.

"Sarah won't find out, I give ya' my word 'bout it. But you gotta keep the end of y'r bargain, sweetheart" then, in a low voice, borderline meneacing, says: "Ya' keep your bestfriend and I get a taste of 'tis sweet pussy. Just gotta earn it"

His big calloused hands dissappear into your middle, making your thighs press together. He chuckles, parting your legs with ease. It's like your whole body has forgotten how to act on its own, so easily spreading for him.

"Atta girl"

A moan dies in your throat at the sensation of his fingers back in your pussy, rubbing the area like he knows it. Your body betrays you, you know it in the way you feel your walls clenching in anticipation at the feeling of his fingers. It's so much better than when you do it yourself, and even if your mind is against it, you can't find the pleasure that's started to sweep in through the cracks of your ressolve.

"See, baby? No use in denyin' when she's tellin' me otherwise" there's an agonizing tease in the way Joel drags the pad of his middle finger across your pussy. "Tell me, no boys back at campus to help ya'?"

"No" you begin to answer, voice hoarse.

"No what?" he asks, plunging two fingers inside of you, making you squeal. Your hand holds to his forearm, almost like an instant, nails leaving little crescents on his sunkissed skin. You can feel him smile at the pain, more at the thought of you holding to him and the feeling of more of your skin against his.

"No boys sir" you manage to choke out.

Joel lets out a rumbling growl of satisfaction at your admission, his eyes flashing with a possesive glint that makes your throat go dry.

"Good girl" he crooks his fingers, a pathetic whine that sounds like his name escaping your lips. "Makes 'tis even better. Now, lemme take real good care of ya', baby"

You suck in a gasp when he starts moving his fingers. He drags them along your cunt until he finds your sweet spot, making you squeal. Your cheeks feel hot, and when Joel notices, he chuckles.

"Don't hold 'em back, baby. You don't know how long I've been waitin' to hear all those lil' sounds outta ya" he rasps, voice rough with desire. Joel rolls your nub between his digits, your treacherous hips moving to meet his rapid movements. "Been dreamin' of 'tis day for a while" 

"An' now here ya' are, bein' so good to me" he praises. His rough fingers delve with more intensity into your soaked folds, stroking through the slick evidence of your arousal. He pumps faster, harder, plunging in and out of your soaked, clinging walls.  "Just mine"

His hand cups your jaw now, thumbing over your swollen bottom lip.

"So pretty" Joel mumbles in your ear. You part your lips as he starts fucking you faster. "Told ya', easy. Y' give, and I give ya' as well. Imma giver, baby"

He chuckles, beard scratching against your neck as he nips and sucks at your racing pulse. "So don't 'cha worry, sweetheart. I'm gonna give y' exactly what 'cha need. Just sit back and look real pretty" Joel says, feeling your walls clenching around his fingers, "which you doin' a great job on"

He adds another finger, the wet sound of your eager walls bouncing off the wall. You stil try to refrain from voicing out loud the traitorous satisfaction Joel's making you feel, but you squeal around his thumb, eyebrows tightly furrowed with how much pleasure you're getting.

"You cummin', aren't 'cha? Ya' want that, doll? Bet you do. So fucken' easy to break" you moan in desperation, body rigid no longer from abstaining but from chasing your impeding orgasm. "Look at ya', so eager, ridin' ma' fingers like a slut. I know ya' want it. So easy t' read"

Your whole body tingles, vision going white. You come all over his fingers, walls clenching as you close your eyes, nails clawing at his arms again, orgasm washing over you. As your climax crashes over you, Joel drinks in every second of your surrender, relishing the way your body became so pliant as you moan his name.

"Good girl" Joel praises as you go limp in his arms, legs trembling. He places a sweet kiss to jaw, his fingers still inside you, still moving yet slowler. "Next, 'm gonna fuck 'tis sweet cunt so hard and so deep that you'll be feelin' me for days, baby"

Joel's hand slides up to wrap around your throat, calloused fingers curling possessively around your delicate neck. "Beg for it, baby. Ya' know how to"

"Please, sir" you choke out, brain fuzzy. It's pathetic, really, but all you can think now is how bad you need him inside of you, walls throbbing in need.

He presses his thumb tighter into your throat. "Words, baby"

"Please. Too much" you whine. He removes his hand from your throbbing pussy. You shake in his arms. "I need you, Joel"

Joel's eyes carey a triumphant gleam to tengo upon hearing your desperate plea, a crooked smile twisting his rugged features. Then, he smacks right into your sensitive clit. You writhe, another whine falling off your lips.

"Told ya' to not call me that, but I can't lie and say I don't like 'da way ya' say ma' name, sweet girl" as he lets go of your neck. "I'll let it pass 'tis time"

He captures your mouth in a devouring kiss, tongue plunging past your lips to claim your lips as if he wants to make himself a home inside the warmth of your mouth. He breaks the kiss, a wicked grin breaking in his face at your disheveled state.

"C'mon, sweetheart, don't be shy now" he taunts. "I know y' got it in ya'. The way 'tis greedy body responds to me... Y'r jus' dyin' to he used, ain't 'cha?"

A pool of shame forms in the pit of your stomach. You know this is wrong, your mind fighting against it, yet, the desire that consumes your body overrides the sense your brain is begging you to have.

It's embarrassing, really, but it's almost as if Joel knows exactly what to do to numb your body, head fuzzy.

He knows.

Joel's hand fists in your hair, pulling your head back as you yelp in surprise, forcing you to meet his burning stare. "I'll take that as a yes"

He exposes the vulnerable column of your throat, attacking he flushed skin with bites for kisses, his teeth sinking into your flesh hard enough to leave bruises to bloom.

"J-Joel" you mumble, pathetic.

He yanks harder, forcing your pleading eyes to meet his predatory gaze as he looms over you, a dark grin spreading across his face. "I want to hear ya' beg f'r it, baby. Beg for my cock like the desperate, filthy slut y'are"

His other hand slides down to your thigh, gripping it tightly as he hitches your leg up around his hip, opening you wider. He licks his lips to te view: your dripping, aching core, bleeding with a wet need. All for him. 

"Jus' tell me how ya' want it, sweetheart. Tell me where you want me to fuck you first"

You close your eyes, writhing. "H-here. It hurts. Please, sir"

Tears pool in the corner of your eyes out of desperation, a treacherous one falling down your cheek. Joel lets out an amused chuckle at that, wiping it with his thumb.

"No need'a cry, baby. Imma give ya' what ya' need. Ya' know I wanna"

He withdraws his hands, reaching for that thick belt he's always wearing. The sound of his zipper bounces in the quiet room, every hair in your body rising un anticipation as he slides his pants down, taking them off.

Never, in a million years, would you imagine the sight for you to behold.

His cock, springing free of its confines: long, thick and angry at the tip. Red as your face. It slaps against his lower soft stomach, precum in display.

Joel leans down to whisper in your ear, nipping your earlobe sharply. "Can ya' feel it? All 'tis for you, baby. 'S how ya' make me feel ever since ya' first waltzed in here with y'r pretty little ass"

It slaps against your stomach, hot and heavy, length pulsing with need. You catch your breath, eyes wide.

"Don't 'cha worry, doll. It'll fit" with a crooked smile. "And I know you'll be of help"

Joel reaches down, gripping your thighs and spreading your legs wide, opening you up for him. Then, he settles between your thighs, positioning himself at your entrance.

"Now, be a good little cocksleeve and take my dick like da' good girl y'are"

A familiar pressure settles in your cunt as his tip begins to enter you, your breath catching at the stretch.

"Feels good?"

Before you can answer, with one brutal thrust, Joel slams his hips forward, burying his cock balls-deep inside your tight cunt.

"S' tight" he grits. Your vision goes blurry at the sensation of his dick stretching you, trying to adapt to his size. So you focus on his touch, the heat irradiating off his body, and the raw desire in his brown eyes. Tension turns to pleasure, where there was once pain now a delicious numbing sensation. You hate how easy your body has surrendered to him, how effortless is to feel satisfaction at his minstrations.

Joel sets a rapid pace. Brutal, punishing. His hips slam against yours, making the old bed wobble and creak. 

"Fuck, doll. Takin' my cunt so well" he sneers with pride and praise. "Look at y'r tight cunt, squeezin' it jus' right" 

His breath comes in harsh, ragged pants. His hands go over to your hips, his fingers digging into the skin, keeping you in place to meet his thrusts. On top of you, Joel Miller is a rare sight: sweaty, flushed honeyed skin and carnal eyes bleeding with a need so primal it takes your breath away. It just then hits you how much he had been holding back, how long he'd been wanting this, stalking and calculating from afar, like the most tantalizing game of cat and mouse there had ever been. It's obvious too, in the way his gaze drinks your body: pliant, soft, flushed and needy, watching your every reaction-- from the small gap between your lips and the involuntary sounds falling from your mouth, to your nails on his biceps and the way you hold to him like you're scared to fall.

"Don't 'cha worry, sweet girl. I ain't never lettin' you go"

He angles his hips, slamming his cock, trying to find your sweet spot deep inside your tight walls with every thrust, determined to make you fall apart in a sweet plea. Joel's really trying, tiredly resting his head near your shoulder, breath warm against your skin. You cling to him, your nails digging into his back to ground yourself. The room is filled with the sounds of his grunts and your moans. It's like outside his bedroom walls, the world is nothing but everything happening on Joel Miller's bed.

"That's it, baby" he whispers, a silent reverence in his voice. You whimper at the pleasure. "You're perfect. Jus' like 'tis"

"It's too much, sir" as you shift beneath him with a trembling voice, drunk in pleasure.

Joel's hands find yours, and with a newfound softness, his fingers intertwine with yours to steady you as he stares down at your tear-streaked face, blood pumping to his cock at the sight of the fat tears streaming down your cheeks.

"S'okay. Relax and lemme handle all'at"

When you instinctively tighten around him, his thrusts become more erratic, his balls slapping against your ass as he chases his release.

"If ya' keep that up, I might not last any longer" you meet his gaze, flush rising to your cheeks, breath coming out in short, desperate gasps as the pleasure builds. "That's right, I'm gonna fuckin' give this pussy exactly what she needs. Jus' focus on me, doll"

"M' close-" you manage to croak out. "I-"

Joel's voice is rough when he speaks. "Then don't hold back"

The pace frantic, a sloppy mess as you both chase your release. It's crazy how your bodies meet in perfect sync, like made to be. With a groan and a cry for your name, Joel slams his hips forward one last time, burying his throbbing cock to the hilt inside your dripping sex as he comes, flooding your walls with his hot, thick seed.

Joel collapses on top of you as he catches his breath, his softening cock still buried deep inside your cunt. "No need'a cry because 's over, baby" he rumbles, his voice a hoarse growl against your neck. "We can always have a round two"

He licks the tears that have escaped your eyes after your orgasm, and while your brain is still fuzzy, trying to grasp the stakes and problems to arise in between the numbness of your orgasm, you hear him say:

"'Sides, a little sweet dove left some cookies downstairs. In case ya' wanna charge those batteries of yours"

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @loregifs

[dilf-docs]

hello, are you continuing ‘Call it what you Want’?

hi dear anon! as a matter of fact, monday or friday a new part comes up of our beloved couple!! sorry for letting them catch dust in the draft dungeon LOL

i'll give u a spoiler: it features a certain little blonde singer

[dilf-docs]

superman: Being a superhero is an every day thing. 😎💪