#Always sexy Pedro

[imaginesupernaturalig]

Bringing you a quickie from this delicious man.

Enjoy!!!

Word count: 503

A little smutty but not overly graphic

-------------------------

Talking with the other guests you don’t have to look behind you to know who just grabbed your hand. It swallows yours and you’d know those calluses anywhere. He quickly whisks you away, “where are we going?”  

He doesn’t say anything as you maneuver around some trees and follow the brick wall around the property. When the roar of the party was now but a whisper he stops and pushes your back against the wall. His hands land at your waist and he takes a breath in as the move north.  

“You shouldn’t be taunting me with a dress like that,” those brown eyes melt into yours.  

“I thought you’d never notice,” your arms move around his neck and play with his hair at the back.  

His pupils blow out and his hips meet yours. Leaning in his lips move to your ear, “naughty girl, no underwear.”  

You shiver at his discovery and bite your lower lip. “All the more to tease you with,” you seductively whisper out.  

With that he crashes his lips into yours and you moan at the taste of him.  

His right hand quickly moves to pull up to the end of your dress then pushes his hand up it. Gasping as he discovers how wet you already are he lets go of your dress and moves to undoing in pants. You start to turn around and he grabs your wrist.  

“No love, I want to look at you.”  

Dropping his pants he raises up your dress and between him and a steady wall he smothers you with kisses. Then you feel him tease a little before expertly sliding in. He smiles against your neck and shifts his balance as he lifts your leg. Definitely pinned to the wall now you hold onto him as he thrusts.  

The sound of the party fades away as all you hear now is his grunting and your heart. His necklace bounces off your chest and your mind wonders to the time it was dangling while you were on all fours, and he was behind you. That bed was more comfortable than the wall, but you weren’t complaining. You loved the spontaneity and how hot and heavy he was for you as well.  

Grabbing his shirt with both fists you are already there as you stare at his neck. Stifling the urge to bite it he kisses you as you moan into his mouth. He bites his lip and draws a little blood so the party people can’t hear him. He kisses up your neck and jawline then pulls out. You cup his jaw and breathe heavily. Pulling up his pants and letting your dress fall back down you both do a once over before you make the walk back.  

Just before you make the tree line you lean up to his ear, “meet you by the car in 20,” then smacked his ass. He let out a very erotic grunt, so you looked over your shoulder to see him smirking at you.  

[camphorror]

man the last of us is sooooo good what the fuck it's so my thing in every possible way like all the tropes there plus the fact the zombies pandemic was caused by a fungus like. a fungus. my obsession with fungi was so worth it

[freakrenaissance]

I could easily make teasing mando my entire life's work 🤤 oh, the way he talked her through that? Sooo delicious. I couldn't focus with those beautiful hands in view, either. 🤤

Watch me

Summary: You try to tease the Mandalorian after taking a skinny dip in the lake. He's not having it.

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem. Reader

Wordcount: 1.8k

Rating: explicit (18+ only)

Warnings: teasing, some dirty talk, masturbation (F), a hint of breeding kink

A/N: The biggest thanks to @the-scandalorian for betaing this hot mess 💜

Masterlist

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It was so kriffing hot.

This was supposed to be a quick journey. The bounty was already frozen in carbonite, and you were on your way back. That was until Mando had to do an emergency landing on this god forsaken planet because the Crest had some issue—something complicated sounding that you didn’t really listen to. You weren’t a mechanic, so you weren’t a big help anyways.

He set the ship down close to a little lake but the heat… You weren’t meant to live in temperatures like that. You could only take so many clothes off to cool down.

Mando had been gone for almost two hours—well, not gone. You could hear him outside working on the ship.

“Mando?” you stepped out of the ship, only wearing a shirt, your underwear beneath.

He came into view, still somehow in his full armor despite the oppressive heat. He stopped as he saw you. “Yes?”

“Is there anything in there that can kill me?” you asked as you nodded to the little lake.

He continued to look at you for a moment before he walked over, standing at the edge of the still water.

“98% sure that you won’t get eaten,” he said after a while.

“98%?” you asked, an eyebrow raised.

“I’ll keep an eye out for you,” he said as he turned around to walk back to the ship.

Rolling your eyes, you sighed at his deadpan humor. Mando and you had… an agreement. You could travel with him to help him take down bounties, take care of the child who was with Karga on Nevarro at the moment, and he got to… take out his frustrations on you—to work through them in a way that was mutually beneficial.

It was you who had the idea in the first place, mostly because you were really interested to find out what was underneath all that metal. What had started as a way to combat the loneliness of the universe grew to something more complex in a short time.

But you both refused to acknowledge that.

Instead of talking, you teased each other relentlessly... until Mando snapped. Then, he wouldn’t take his hands off of you until you were crying his name deep into the darkness of his cot.

You shook your head in exasperation before you pulled off your shirt.

Due to the lack of a bathing suit you wanted to stay in your underwear but maybe, just maybe it was too hot for even this little clothing. If this could get a reaction out of the Mandalorian it was purely accidental and totally not intended.

Risking a glance over your shoulder you saw Mando with his back turned to you as you took off your underwear, some tool in his hand as he worked on the outside of the ship. Letting your underwear fall to the ground you slowly tiptoed toward the water, releasing a sigh when you felt the cool water.

When you were in the water up to your knees you heard a noise behind you.

You turned your head to look over your shoulder at Mando, who was standing next to the Crest. His visor was fixed on you as you, the tool that had been in his hands on the ground. You winked at him with a smirk before you got fully into the water.

It was heavenly. The three suns of the planet heated the air while you were floating in the cool water of the lake. You hoped Mando would repair whatever broke on the ship quickly so you could get back into the cool of hyperspace. Or space. It didn’t matter as long as it cooled down again.

You didn’t know how long you were in the water when you heard footsteps behind you.

“I finished the repairs. I’m gonna head into the ship and clean some weapons until you’re ready,” Mando said.

You looked up at him, swimming towards him. “Or you could join me in here?” you proposed. You were submerged in the water from the swell of your breasts down, and you could practically feel his eyes on you behind the glass of his visor.

He sighed. “I’ll wait for you inside,” and with that, he turned around.

A half hour later, you emerged from the water, not bothering to get your underwear on, just pulling the shirt over your head. You walked up to the ship, finding Mando sitting at the little table where you took your meals, at least four of his weapons laid out and disassembled in front of him. He looked up when you entered.

He had taken off all his beskar save for his helmet, his feet bare, his pants rolled up. He was wearing a shirt instead of the flight suit he usually wore, and you were overwhelmed with the amount of skin on display.

You swallowed. “I’m finished, we’re good to go,” you said quietly.

He gave you a nod. “I’m going to finish cleaning these and then we can take off.”

“I’m going for a quick shower then.”

“More water?” he asked, and you smiled.

“Gotta wash off the lake,” you winked before you turned around.

When you got out of the fresher, he was still sitting there, cleaning his weapons. He looked up when he heard your footsteps.

“Stealing one of my shirts again I see?” he said.

“They’re perfect to lazy around in,” you shrugged as you climbed into this cot with your holopad. From there, you had a perfect view of him sitting at the table. You searched for the story you had been reading.  When you located it, you leaned against the wall and began to read.

It was comfortable silence—and only interrupted by Mando setting parts of his weapons down to pick up a new one to clean. Soon the story you were reading got boring. Watching Mando’s gloveless hands work dexterously on his intricate weapons was way more interesting.

His fingers were thick and long as they cleaned every little piece of his weapons. Rubbing and polishing, until every part looked as good as new. You hadn’t seen his hands often before—twice, to be exact. Once when he got his signet ring from the armorer that he was now wearing on his pinky finger. And once when he hadn’t bothered to turn the lights off when he had to have you in the cockpit after a long hunt. You could feel yourself clench remembering just how many times he had made you cum on his fingers before he finally had given in and fucked you senseless.

He was a force only you were able to handle.

The holopad on the cot next to you was forgotten, your hands rested on your thighs, rubbing up and down slowly—much like he would on nights when he wanted to savor you. In the dark, the beskar of his ring would make you shiver before his hand would wander between your legs. His other hand would push up your shirt and then he would kiss up your stomach, before his tongue would find your nipple, teasing until he pushed you to the verge of your first climax. Now, your own hand pushed under your shirt, his shirt, that smelled so much like him, your fingers teasing your nipple before you rolled it between your fingers.

You were looking at the Mandalorian the whole time. He was still sitting there, concentrating on his weapons. You breathed quietly, your pussy slick with arousal. He was right there. Pushing your shirt off, you parted your legs, your eyes still on him. Would you be able to make yourself cum without him noticing?

Your fingers found your core as you watched him pick up another part, starting to clean it carefully. His fingers were greasy and strong, so strong. It was the first time you noticed a tattoo on his hand. You couldn’t see what it was, but it would be one of your next missions to find out.

Slowly you circled your clit, featherlight touches to tease yourself. He put the weapon together after having it cleaned, laying it to the side before he started on the next. Fuck, you wanted to feel his fingers on your skin: two of his fingers pushing inside of you, while his thumb worked on your clit. You rubbed faster, your other hand releasing the hold on your breast to push two fingers inside of your slick pussy. You bit your lip to keep quiet. You were so close, feeling your legs already shaking. You just needed some…

“What are you doing?” you didn’t even notice that you had closed your eyes, opening them to find the Mandalorian looking, his helmet now pointed straight at you.

Your fingers were still inside of you, but you felt frozen at the spot. “Mando…” you whimpered.

“Think you can make yourself cum? Are your fingers enough for you, little girl?” he asked, and you moaned.

“Please, please, Mando, I need….”

“Make yourself cum, and I’ll make you cum again. And then I’m going to fuck you until the only word you can think off is my name.”

“Fuck…” you gasped, circling your clit faster. He was still cleaning his weapons as you looked at him, but you could see he was tense, grabbing each part tighter, his knuckles white.

“And after I make you cum on my cock, I’m gonna cum deep inside of your tight little pussy. I know how much you like that. My cum inside of you… Fuck, one day I might even fuck you to breed you, make you round with my child.”

You cried out his name as you came, harder than you had ever made yourself cum before. Still, it was nothing compared to how Mando could make you see stars. You breathed harshly, trying to catch your breath.

Interesting. Breeding was a kink you hadn’t seen coming... but holy hell.

Mando was still sitting at the table, now putting together the last part of his blaster pistol before he laid it down. The air around you seemed to buzz as you two looked at each other.

“Get on your hands and knees and don’t turn your head. I’m gonna make you cum on my tongue first,” he said, finally getting up, and you could see the outline of his hard cock inside his pants. You shivered as you turned around and did as you were told.

“Yes, sir.”

[intoanotherworld23]

All Fogged Up

Summary: Joel hates being the jealous type, but he sure does love the fun part that comes after it

Warnings: explicit content, mature themes, slightly dominant Joel, jealous Joel, submissive reader, car sex, minor spanking, public sex, dirty talk, praise kink

A/N: If you enjoyed this I would greatly appreciate comments and reblogs in show of support! If you wish to be added to my list please don’t hesitate to ask! Thanks so much! XOXO

Hall Of Hunks

Tag list for everything: @iam-laiya @rosie-posie08 @madzleigh01 @alwaysclassyeagle @mytbel0st @shanimallina87 @marvelstarker-mha98 @powellssugarbaby @lora21 @kmc1989

Tag list for Pedro Pascal: @pedrohoe04 @k-k0129 @livingdeadmaria @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @milly-louise @kittenlittle24 @trisaratops-mcgee @subconsciouscollapse @hooked-on-penapascal27 @red-red-rogue @fellinfromthetop @drewharrisonwriter @vickie5446 @millerfan

Joel Miller was never the type of guy to show his jealousy when it came to you. Until when he saw one of the guys from the village flirting with you all he saw was red. Wasting no time in pulling you into his truck. Ripping your clothes off so fast you could feel the fabric burning your skin.

“Were you trying to make me jealous princess?” He hissed into your ear as he gripped your cheeks in the palm of his hands. Using all the muscles in your thighs to bounce up and down on his cock. “Nobody can fuck you like I can.”

“Oh my fuck.” Whimpering into his shoulder biting on the flesh so much his hand came down and smacked you on your ass cheek in warning.

“That all you got to say to me?” He taunts as he moves a hand up to grip your chin to look at his red face with sweat dripping down his forehead. He looked absolutely sexy like this, and you were the main and only reason he looked like this. It was such a turn on. “I know you can do better than that baby.”

“Joel please.” Crying out to him as you took notice he stopped your movements completely.

“Please what sweetheart?” Smirking as he looked up at your pathetic state, and licking his lips. Joel loved to tease you whenever he had the opportunity, and this was one that he wasn’t going to let pass him by.

Joel knew he was in complete control over you, and he was becoming drunk on power. He wanted so much more of you he couldn’t get enough. Something always took over him, and he would become some type of animal. It was one of his favorite feelings with you.

“Please fuck me harder.” Grinding your hips back and forth in an aggressive manner he couldn’t help but laugh at how desperate you were becoming.

“What? What was that baby? I couldn’t quite hear you over the sound of your wet cunt.” His words had you squeezing around his cock just wanting nothing more than to feel him move. Driving you wild with lust at how provocative he could talk to you sometimes. “Come on, use that pretty mouth and tell me.”

Running his hands up and down your body as he waited for your response. His fingertips felt like fire running across your skin, the sweat just dripping down your back. Almost like you were in a sauna just soaking in the heat.

“Fuck me harder please Joel.” The air in the truck was so thick you almost couldn’t breathe for a second. Your mouth was becoming so dry you could’ve chugged a bottle of water. The windows in the truck were fogging up nobody would be able to see the two of you engaging in adult activities.

Joel was pounding into you relentlessly and with no mercy. Nails digging into the headrest behind him scratching along the leather. His firm grip on your hips as your body aligned perfectly with his. Cries of pleasure escaping past your lips just for him and him alone.

“You fucking like this don’t ya?” He demanded with a devilish glint in his eye as he mocked your pleasure. “That fucking pathetic excuse of a man could never make you feel like this?”

All you could manage was a rapid nod and pathetic moans. A low chuckle rumbling in his throat as he took in your disheveled state knowing exactly how close you were. Well and the fact that your pussy was squeezing him like a python wrapped around its prey was a clear sign.

“Your ass looks so fucking good like this baby?” He coos as he looks around you watching you bounce on top of him your cheeks jiggling with each motion only to slap your flesh. The smack is so loud and obscene you good that nobody heard it. Joel didn’t seem to care cause he did it over and over again.

“Shit.” Your muffled voice curses as the sensation goes all the way down to your toes. “Right there Joel.”

Joel could feel you slowing down as you rest your head on his shoulder. Not wasting anymore time he clasped his hands behind your back, and bucked into you violently it made the whole car rock.

“I want to feel that creamy cunt cum around my cock.” Crying out as you gripped onto Joel’s body like your life depended on it. Toes curling as your whole body shook into a crumbled mess on top of him. Chest rising and feeling with each trembling breath you took. “That’s my good girl. Such a good fucking girl for me.”

His lips find yours with a fleeting taste of pure bliss before his sultry voice commands you to surrender to him. Leading you to make a complete mess all over him as you explode with ecstasy.

Stomach trembling with the resounding orgasm you had just experienced. It was so intense and hot you felt like you could pass out any second. Your cunt was puffy and sore from the beating that you just took. Joel couldn’t have been more proud of himself right now. A huge smug look on his face as he panted heavily taking in your facial expression.

“Fuck I will never get tired of that feeling.” He chuckled his hands running up and down your sides in a soothing and such gentle matter you almost forgot what he just did to you. “Only one I know who can fuck me like that in a truck.”

“Shut up.” You giggled as you covered your face into his chest feeling slightly embarrassed at his teasing you. His lips finding yours again in a sweeter and tender embrace. Only to be interrupted by hard knocks on the truck.

“When you guys are done fucking your brother is looking for you Joel.”

[talaok]

Love your writing! Could we please do a cute pregnant reader x Pedro going to and at the SAG awards in honour of our boy winning! 🤍🙏🏼

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x pregnant!reader

a/n: this is how i found out he won btw. I'm so happy for him i cant even, I just love that fucking guy gosh ahhhh (as always this request skipped the line bc it wouldnt make sense in a month)

Gif credits: @tessas-thompson

"thank you" you told him as he emerged from underneath your bump after having slipped your shoes on for you.

Turns out that when you're 7 months and a half pregnant, the most basic tasks like putting on shoes become a two person job.

He only smiled, kissing your belly and then your lips before standing up, offering you a hand to do the same.

"Heels would have looked much better with this dress" you pouted, studying yourself in the mirror, 

You hated ballerinas, but again, you weren't really in the condition to wear anything else.

"You look stunning sugar" he promised, kissing the crown of your head

You couldn't help but snort.

As much as he told you so over and over, together with everyone else in your life... you still struggled to see it, especially now in this uncomfortable dress.

"I look like a stuffed turkey" you sighed "and my boobs are so much bigger than when I first tried this dress, now they look a move away from spilling out"

His eyes twinkled with kindness, with love as he placed his hands on your waist and turned you towards him, away from your reflection.

"You're beautiful sweetheart" he promised, one hand now stroking your cheek as your own hands went to his waist "You're sexy and gorgeous and so fucking hot that if Coco wasn't still here I would demonstrate just how much right here right now" he growled, not giving you time to answer before he kissed you, soft at first, and then once you whimpered, it was like a switch turned and he was fiery and passionate and his left hand trailed to your ass and-

"Pedro!" you scolded him quietly, eyeing Coco on the other side of the room.

"she's seen worse"

She had.

Nonetheless, he took a step back, returning his hand to your waist.

"Thank you" you murmured, looking up into his hazel eyes "and by they way, you look very beautiful too"

You could have sworn you saw red staining his cheeks 

"thank you baby"

You adjusted his shirt, as you got lost in your own mind.

There he was, you beautiful, talented, Emmy, golden globe and SAG award nominated husband, looking every bit as perfect as ever.

And just like that, tears pooled in your eyes

"what's wrong?" he asked, worried

"I just-" you sniffled, trying to fight the tears as your lips trembled "I-I'm so proud of you"

"aw sweetheart" he cooed, half laughing as he wrapped you into his arms.

He'd gotten used to it now, taking care of your over-emotional self was part of his daily routine.

"Y-you just" you cried "you worked so hard a-" another quiet sob "and n- now you're finally getting the recognition you deserve I-"

"I know baby, I know" he cooed, softly kissing the top of your head "thank you" he smiled, his fingers drawing soothing circles on your back "It means a lot to me too,"

"I love you" you murmured, finally raising your head to look at him

"I love you too honey" he kissed you, laughing softly as he pulled back to see tears still running down your cheeks "You're gonna cry the whole night, aren't you?"

"I made the makeup artist use only waterproof products" was your way of saying yes, yes I'm going to, and yes I've already planned ahead

He chuckled, kissing your forehead as his hands trailed to your bump, soft kicks hitting his palms.

"She's excited" he murmured

"She's proud of her daddy too" 

__ __ __

Pedro Pascal.

Pedro Pascal.

Pedro P-

Your husband. they had called your husband.

It was probably comical from the outside, seeing the shock on both your faces as you stared blankly at each other, the way your mouth gaped open, while he slapped a hand onto his, it was like- it was like time had stopped, and the word went completely quiet, until- until-

"oh my god" you breathed, throwing your arms around him and hugging him so tight it probably hurt

He didn't dare speak a word as you leaned away, landing a kiss on his mouth as you gripped his face 

"go" you laughed, grinning like an idiot as tears glimmered into your eyes "go" you urged again, this time, having him comply.

You watched every step, every move, until he was right in front of the microphone, his award in his hands.

"This is umh" he mumbled "This is wrong for a number of reasons-" 

he was in shock, his voice trembling, his eyes watery, but he kept going

"b-but thank you hbo, Bella Ramsey, Craig Mazin, Neil Drukman, Frannie, and -" A shaky sigh fled his mouth, as he chuckled to himself "jeez louise I'm making a fool of myself and my wife is gonna make so much fun of me for it and-"

All the sudden his eyes were on you, 

"my wife" he smiled, his smile brighter than the sun "I wanna thank my beautiful, amazing, intelligent, and perfect wife" he said "I love you y/n, I love you and our daughter more than anything in this world and if I'm here today- If I'm here today is mostly because of you" 

You were shaking from how hard you were crying, from how happy, ecstatic, and euphoric you were for him.

"You've made me the happiest man on this earth, you've made me a dad, you- you're my everything sweetheart" he beamed "so thank you"

He stopped a moment, as if realizing only now this had all really happened

"And now I'm gonna stop talking 'cause I need to get down there to kiss you and try to make you stop crying" he laughed, ending his speech

"thank you, everybody, really, thank you"

__ __ __ 

He did exactly as he said,

he held you tight as he kissed you like the world was gonna end tomorrow, like if he didn't he was gonna die

And when he leaned away- when he leaned away time stopped once again, but as he pressed his forehead to yours, as you lost yourself in each other's eyes, you remembered

"You said it was wrong" you said, both your hands holding his face "but it's not" you shook your head, watching his eyes water "you deserve this baby, you do"

"sweetheart-"

"no" you shut him off, your voice hoarse from the sobs, but it didn't matter, you wanted him to know, you needed him to know "No I need you to understand that you do baby" You smiled "that you worked your ass off and that you deserve every single inch of this award" you took a deep breath, steadying your voice as you looked at him, so many unspoken words traveling between you

"ok?" you asked, finally

"ok" he beamed, kissing you again "God I love you so much"

[sizzlingsandwichperfection-blog]

hey john!

a common inside joke about the BCG vaccine has been going viral once again recently. it’s about how latin americans can always spot one another because of the vaccine scar they have on their arms, since we all got the shot as a baby and are usually crazily proud of it (is this a weird flex?).

there is countless memes going around, one of them shows a non latin-american pedro pascal fan calling it a sexy beauty mark after seeing him shirtless.

even though all of this is hilarious, it feels weird to see this subject come up without you being in it. I thought I would share just for the funsies, but also, do you guys not take this vaccine in the US? Is it just because TB doesn’t have a lot of cases yearly? Is it because of something else? Do you also have this sexy beauty mark?

Most people in North America do not, in fact, have this sexy beauty mark.

The BCG vaccine is more than 100 years old and remains the only vaccine for tuberculosis--even though we could've already developed new vaccines if the rich world gave a shit about TB.

BCG is effective at preventing death and serious illness from tuberculosis in young children, but it has very little (if any) efficacy in adolescents and adults. For this reason, it makes sense to give the vaccine in places where lots of kids contract TB. In the U.S., rates of active TB are low enough that young children hardly ever get infected, and so it wouldn't have much impact on our burden of tuberculosis.

So that's why some people have that sexy beauty mark and others do not!

[jobean12-blog]

Wear It With Love

Pairing: Javier Peña x female reader

Word Count: 860

Summary: Javi has to leave for work so you help him get dressed

Author's Note: This man in that tac vest is enough to set me on fire and as much as I would love to get him out of clothes I think there is something intimate about helping him get dressed. Thank you all so much for ready! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the beautiful @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: it's playful, soft, sweet and sexy (bc Javi duh hehe)

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

“You should stay home. In bed. With me.”

He looks down at you from the edge of the mattress, his dark and tousled hair hanging loosely over his forehead and his eyes soft as they deliberately sweep over the curve of your body that’s barely hidden by the bed sheet.

You shift and stretch, letting the sheet fall free and reveal your naked skin.

He continues to stare as his hand reaches out to caress the outline of your waist then your hip before he wraps his fingers around the back of your thigh and gently squeezes.

“You know I want to,” he murmurs in a rough voice. “It’s all I want.”

His hand slides back up, ghosting along your arm and delicately dancing over your shoulder until he closes it around the back of your neck and leans down to meet you for a kiss.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he whispers against your lips.

Reluctantly he stands and grabs his jeans from the floor. Just as he has pulls them over his ass you get up and close the distance between you, pressing yourself against his bare chest as you stop his actions and start to slowly pull up the zipper of his jeans yourself.

Your fingers glide through the patch of hair just below his navel and when you close the button of his pants you let your hand trace the trail of hair that leads upward.

“I love that I’m the only one who knows you go commando.”  

As you speak the words your palm flattens against the bulge between his legs and his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks. You hum appreciatively and press closer to him.

“Can I help you get dressed?” you ask with feigned coyness.

He licks his lips and his hands settle lightly on your waist.

“I definitely like it better when you do the opposite,” he teases.

“Me too,” you reply, “but I do love seeing you in your tact vest…”

The corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles and throws you a wink.

“I suppose you need a shirt,” you start and search the room for his discarded button down.

The light blue fabric is draped over the nightstand and you grab it and help guide his arms through the short sleeves.

Before you start to close the buttons you place a kiss to his neck, soft and slow, then continue downward over his skin until every button is closed. You fix his collar, trailing your fingers through the soft hair at the back of his neck and then gliding your hands over his broad shoulders.

“I’m going to have to unzip your jeans,” you whisper with a grin. “I forgot I have to tuck your shirt in.”

His lips twitch with a sideways smirk as he watches you fall to your knees.

“Fuck gorgeous…” he groans when you look up at him from your position at his feet. “Don’t look at me like that.”

You bat your lashes innocently. “Like what Javi?”

His lips press together knowingly and he grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger, the calloused pad brushing across your lips.

“Like you want me to fuck that beautiful mouth of yours.”

“That’s exactly what I want,” you purr.

Your fingers work open the button of his jeans and slide down the zipper then you tug the tight fabric down over his hips. His cock springs free and bobs against his stomach.

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip and you whimper.

“Don’t,” he warns with a rushed breath. “I can’t. I’ll never leave.”

His expression is pained and you let out a pouty sigh.

“Fine.”

You grab the hem of his shirt and pull it down but not before placing a chaste kiss to the silky skin just below the head of his cock.

He let’s out a hiss and you see his hands fist at his sides.

You delicately scrape your fingertips over the corded muscles of his forearms and higher, digging them into his taut biceps as you get to your feet.

Once his shirt is properly tucked in you stand and reach for his belt, threading the material through the loops of his pants then buckling it. You’re still naked and even as you dress him his hands reverently wander over the dips of curves of your body with soft strokes.

“This is fucking torture,” he grits out.

You give him a sweet smile. “It’s your own fault. You’re the one who has to go to fight crime.”

A disapproving sound rumbles through his chest but you ignore it and pull his green tactical vest from the chair, resting it on his shoulders and first securing the straps there then doing the same for the ones at his waist.

Your fingers press against the thick material and suddenly it doesn’t feel solid enough. Your breathing stutters and your palm flattens over the spot above his heart. He closes his hand over yours and squeezes gently before lifting your fingers to his lips and breathing out “I love you” across your knuckles.

“I love you too Javi. Please be careful.”

@hiddles-rose @lorilane33 @kmc1989 @littleseasiren @blackwidownat2814 @lizette50

[pedge-page]

I really love and laugh over your Joel and Preggo. I was wondering about Joel and his mother-in-law. How does Preggo get along with her mother? Maybe mother-in-law who lives out of town comes for a quick visit ? I leave to you what the dynamics or what directions “the mother-in-law” could be!

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife: Mother-in-Law

^some inspo photos of Pedro with friend or his family. Momma is touchy but it's nonsexual. He's just eating it up.

Warnings: angry sex turns soft, brief oral F receiving, getting caught (not sexy), favoritism war

18+ ONLY

- - - -

You remember when your parents used to hate Joel. From the moment you announced your engagement, they frowned. Why not someone who has a more stable job? Went to college? Doesn't have white in his beard already in his 30s?

But when you refused to back down, they begrudgingly put up with him. And he went above and beyond to impress them. Gifts, kind gestures, helping around their house and treating them to nice dinners. 

But oh boy, the SECOND your Facebook friends let it slip that you were expecting, your parents flipped on a dime.

Joel was now their favorite child. 

And your mom was—

“I hope she makes that famous apple pie of-hers,” Joel says, a bounce in his voice as the two of you drive to your Mom’s house for the weekend. 

Your upper lip gets caught on your teeth as you scowl at his more-than-she-deserves giddy smile. “What about my apple pie?”

“You don’t make apple pie.”

True. "Well. If I did..."

“—Then it would be the best.”

“You’re just saying that because I expect you to. You probably would hate it.”

Joel opens his mouth but hesitates for a moment. “I don’t know how you want me to respond here. We’re talking about a fictional pie you’ve never made.”

Grrr fuck this man and his logic.

He tries to alleviate the subject—maybe you wanted to give baking HIM an apple pie a go? ”She did buy me that Kitchen-aide mixer..."

You shake your head. Not this again… “No, she bought it for me!"

"It was my Christmas gift she gave me.”

"Why would she get you a NICE kitchen aide thousand dollar mixer, when you don't even BAKE??? PLUS I'm her actual DAUGHTER??"

Joel just shrugs. It pains you but you will never admit it's most likely true. Your mom bought it for HIM and you got breast pumps and a barf blanket. She used to get you the over the top nice things, and Joel would get socks. But now…

Your mom always loved you, probably a bit more than most. Sometimes it was overbearing, but that’s how she is. She’s nurturing, caring, always cooking and taking care of everyone, running a million miles a minute yet still having time to tell you everything is going to be ok after you stubbed your toe and cried about a broken nail. 

Though, she also expected to be treated like royalty by Dad. Momma knew her worth, knew her value to the family and Dad would grovel if he didn’t give her exactly what she wanted the moment she wanted it.

You’re glad that Joel doesn’t have to deal with a nagging wife who needs to tend to her ridiculous wants and emotional turmoil whenever it falls over less he be beheaded for his insolence.

You narrow your eyes at your bopping himbo Joel now, completely unaware of your thoughts as he jams to the radio. 

What a lucky guy he is.

When you pull up outside the old ranch home, Joel hops out and smells the air like it’s the Bahamas.

He helps you down from the passenger side of the truck before you both jump at the sound of your Mom screeching from the porch.

“JOOOOOEEEELLLYYYYYYYY!!!!!!”

His eyes crinkle in a warm smile as the little yet fiery woman you call Mom comes rushing towards you two like a marathon speed walker, pumping her arms at a whopping 1 mile per hour.

He opens his arms and as your mother wraps herself in his embrace. “Hey you!”

“Oooooh! Ohhh you’re so thin!” 

You raise your eyebrow. Joel’s no heavy weight champion, but he’s got a dad bod ready to rival any of the neighbors—a body that you LOVE more than anything else as it is.

Finally seeing you behind him, she shoves Joel aside and wraps you up in his warm hug. “MY BABYGIRL!!!!”

That’s right, let’s remember the pregnant one here please!

Your mom is the same height as you, but that doesn’t stop her from getting on her tip toes to kiss your forehead like she always did since the day you were born. She marvels at the size of your belly, filled with excitement and wonder and familiarity. “Oh my gosh look how much you’ve grown already, are you sure it’s not twins??? I have twins on my uncle’s side so its entirely possible—oh my gosh you’re so—“

Please don’t say fat please don’t say fat…

“SKINNY! JOEL! Have you not been feeding her????”

You snicker and throw your arm around her shoulders. “That’s what I’VE been saying. Momma, he’s been limiting snack time.”

Joel rolls his eyes. The two of you ganging up on him wasn’t in the cards just 5 seconds ago when he was sweet Joely.

 “My poor starving baby starving my baby’s baby!” she muses, forces Joel to bend at the knee for her fat wet kiss on his scruffy cheek before rubbing her kisses into your head on the other side.

“Come, come in! I’ve made—“

“Pie?” Joel pipes up, his eyes tilted eagerly towards the overly touchy woman suffocating you both.

You roll your eyes, already smelling the apple and cinnamon in the air. Of COURSE she would make his favorite pie. She runs inside to set the table.

Joel starts unpacking the truck but you cross your arms and tap your foot.

“What?”

He towers over you with a duffel slumped over his shoulder. “—Not that shit."

“I'm just saying, she’s nice to you all the sudden. It’s weird—“

“Don’t start.” He interrupts, slamming the trunk with a startling bang. Those biceps look fucking delicious rippling under his tight tight shirt— "Just want her to think I'm good for ya. Not tryin' to replace you."

You scoff him, as if anyone else could pull a man like that except you. 

But Joel can still feel that tension radiating off you, knowing you won’t truly acknowledge what’s bothering you until it blows into something ridiculous.

“Jooeellyyyy?” your mother shouts from the kitchen window.

“JoElLeY” you mimic with annoyance. “I used to be the only one with cute nicknames, ya know. You used to just be ‘J guy-my-daughter-is-dating’. And that even AFTER we got married.”

He chuckles before giving you a peck on the lips and guiding your waddling self inside. Joel doesn’t want you thinking that he would ever choose your mom over you, of course not! 

Just, for the now, being on her favorable side was something he had been working towards for years. You would just have to put up with her lipstick stains on his cheek and endless praise from his mouth of her fabulous cooking for this the weekend.

- 

Your mom zips around the kitchen, going off about the new nail salon down the road, the garden beds that can’t keep the chipmunks away, and how your old ultrasounds to compare baby sizes.

Joel watches the way she waddles. It’s EXACTLY as you do, and he starts to think maybe it’s not the pregnancy that is giving you such a signature walk. You both sit down at the table together and sigh, biting into a cookie and making a nasty face before putting it back on the tray.

Oh.

Oh wow.

Joel has to hide his smirk. You claimed so often how you were NOTHING like your mom. Your mom was pushy, demanding, filled to the brim with extra energy that would come out of no where—ironically all the things that defined you but obviously was not obvious to his wife yet. 

Maybe it’s the slight difference between you two is exactly how Joel can relate to Momma—showing love through acts service. Your mom is constantly working around the kitchen, cleaning, cooking, and it has nothing to do with expectations. He can see the little smile on her face, the skip in her step—she loves taking care of her people. She likes that you whine because only she can make your favorite coffee cake the exact way you like it. That you credit your own excellent laundry folding skills thanks to her methods that prevent wrinkles without ironing. How she always had the BEST soups for when you’re sick as if they cured like medicine itself, even if its just poured from a can—its done so with love.

There’s a unique bond between mother and daughter that Joel gets to witness. It’s not self serving either. There’s a sense of personal gratitude in being able to care for someone that makes their world worth living in.

Other times you can be a total bitch but honestly? That’s just pregnancy talk.

“It’s a girl, isn’t it? Grandmother’s just know these things—“

“Mom, I called you a few weeks ago and told you it was a girl. You didn’t just guess—“

“Just as you had predicted!” Joel jumps in. “Grandmother’s intuition is a real thing, and this sweet }Cookie’s got it.” He winks towards her and sips the lovely tea she had made him.

Your mom begins to favor his conversation over yours. “And names…?” She asks expectedly.

“We’re—“

“Yours is definitely in the mix!” Joel boasts.

She clasps her hands together, not seeing the deathstare you were giving him. Momma’s name was only in the mix for MIDDLE names, not firsts. You both had agreed you wanted your baby to have her own unique first that belonged to just her. 

He ignores you for now, hoping you can see the ‘please forgive me’, in his pupils as your mom goes to hug and kiss his messy hair like a bird feeding its young in the nest.

You clear your throat, eager to get her hands off your man and back on to the one actually giving her the grandbaby. “I think it’s time we settle down in our room. Right Momma?”

“Oh, you know your way up, I wanted to show Joel some of my new kitchenware—I just couldn’t decide what to buy so I got everything, knowing you’d be by this weekend! Come on, you can pick the ones you like.”

She grasps his hand and guides him, side to side with her piddled feet, into the next room and leaving you alone.

-

The blunt edges of your chewed up nails dig into Joel’s meaty chest. there are wrinkles in your forehead from how tightly concentrated you are at riding back and forth on his cock, your belly dragging along his and hips slamming down aggressively as you ride him with the pent up fury of the day.

Joel’s got a mix of emotions: your tight pussy sucking him in, kissing your cervix with each swallow, deep and delicious in that tight heat, plus the sheer feel and sight of you so pregnant yet fucking him so furiously while he lies back and takes it all in, trying not to cum too soon—but also knowing you’re more angry than you are thinking about the sex you’re having, and you’re going to injure yourself by all this energy not driving you anywhere closer to an orgasm, and he knows  he has to works out the knot in your brain before you can let the knot in your tummy snap.

“Why are you so upset?” He asks as his head rubs up along the pillow from each bounce of your body atop him.

“M—m not—upset,” you stammer, your fingers gripping his flesh even harder and slamming yourself down on his cock like you want to hurt it.

You’re sweating, visibly aggravated and probably in pain but refuse to quit.

Maybe you need this, but as he glances down at your bulging pregnant belly that is also being shaken up like a martini, he decides that his unborn baby doesn’t need brain damage too from your furious fucking.

Joel’s hands glide up along your flexed arms until he’s cupping your cheeks gently, wiping the tear that is building along your eyelashes. You slow your pace until you’re just sitting on top, impaled on his cock and letting out an exhausted huff.

“So why are you upset?” He asks calmly.

“You’re MY husband,” you say, and though your voice is full of confidence at the statement, it quivers just a bit at the end. 

Joel knew you would be pent up. That your mom was too touchy with him, and in his good faith to keep her good favor, he leaned in and let her butter him up, gave her the attention and kisses and hugs she asked for, and now its getting to you, and you’re jealous of your own mother—

“--and I’m HER daughter. But now she’s acting like you’re her favorite child too, even though I’m the one giving the grandbaby here, I used to be her favorite kid! Just me! I used to be the one BEGGGING her to give ya a chance but now suddenly she’s also loving you, out of the fucking BLUE,  like you’re all special when IT SHOULD JUST BE ME—.”

He blinks for a second, and you squeeze your walls around him as if signaling you’ll cut it off if he dare try to act confused. 

“Wait, are you jealous… of me?” 

Your eyes drift away, just in time for Joel to have the worst fucking reaction by chuckling so hard that the two of you are rolling over to your side.

He wipes his reddened face and calms his breathing so he can talk.

“That why you’re fuckin’ me like you wanna break me?” 

Maybe you did want to make a point to anyone who might be in the house about the hierarchy over who’s got right’s to loving Joel…specifically, to make that clear TO Joel himself. 

He scootches as close as he can, despite the big baby between your middles, and rubs his nose along yours, his palm brushing your cheek and centering your focus entirely on him.

“I’d shoot myself if I had to spend more than just this weekend with your mom. She’s nice, but I couldn’t EVER stand around bein’ pinched in the cheeks like that. Always doting on my ass all day, tryin’ to service me and make me feel like a spoiled porcelain doll that needed nurturin’ like a baby 24/7. I’d feel like a useless fuck. I think she n’ I are kinda alike in that. Wantin’ to take care of what’s ours.”

You snort in the boogers pooling in your nostrils. 

“Look, It’s nice gettin’ praise, THAT you could give me more of.”

“I don’t wanna talk about my mom when you’re inside me.”

“Then lets talk about you being a momma while I’m inside you.”

“Yeah… but I liked being the only one she adored. Now I gotta share?? With you????”

You nod shyly but agree. “I do appreciate you. I’ll try better to show it.”

“Nah, don’t want you to change. N’ I need you to listen to this because I know you’re gonna leave some details out intentionally when you go tattlin’ to Maria—but being pregnant with you has been the best adventure we’ve been on so far. You keep me on my toes and keep life interesting. I like the smile on your face when I give ya something only I can give. The dance you do when you get your little cookie dough milkshake thing, and the pout you make when I tell ya no, and you get all cute on me and do some ridiculous shit that I can’t deny you anymore cuz fuck, I want you happy sooo bad, and I wanna be the one that does it. YOU make me feel special.”

He smiles, stroking the hair away from your eyes. “Think of it this way: when did she suddenly start showin’ me some special treatment? When I put a baby in your belly. That’s it. She’s happy to be getting a grand kid, and she knows I’m officially stuck with you so might as well get used to it. I’m here to stay. “Ya spent so long tryin’ to get her to like me. She does now. Job well done! You don’t have to stress anymore. No need to get all greedy, baby though I know that’s just your thing,” he teases, rubbing his knee along your thighs to part them again.

You furl your lower lip out in a childish pout. “I think the baby is making me possessive over my belongings.”

“Oh? I’m a belonging now?” He wiggles his eyes brows. Slightly more relaxed, he takes advantage and smoothes his palm down your arm, behind your waist to squeeze your ass.

He’s about to pull you in for a victory kiss when your eyes shoot open.

“Wait… am I… the useless spoiled porcelain doll that needs nurturing 24/7 that you have to dote on all day??????”

“No! No you’re not useless!”

He’s offering a sweet smile, rubbing your shoulder with encouragement as a pregnant pause fills the air.

“…you got anything else you wanna deny in that or just that one part.”

He licks his lips before flipping you on your back and sliding down between your legs.

“You know what the BEST pie is?”

T h e o n e  b e t w e e n  m y l  e g s, you mouth out into the air, your belly conveniently keeping your lips out of frame as Joel spread your pussy and blows cool air on your nub.

“S’the one between your legs,” he whispers sensually against your thigh, nipping it and growling before dragging the tip of his nose through your slit, inhaling your scent.

You smile and cover your face with both hands. He’s cheesy, but he’s a keeper. 

and maybe, just maybe, worth sharing the love with.

The love that is quickly about to be snuffed out for the both of you as your mom opens the door and begins asking "Joel did you want the red one or the blue--AH!"

Joel and you both frantically cover your lower half, his head accidetanlly bumping into your belly at the same you to strain your back trying to sit up.

"MOM, SERIOUSLY!?"

she slams the door closed but calls out through the wood: "Oh that is NOT appropriate for the baby!" before stammering away.

Joel just chuckles into your breasts. "How does she think I got the baby in you?"

You shake your head and smack him, trying to feel more ashamed then amused right now.

- - - -

More Momma in Law and Sarah

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrs-oharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-dinero @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee

[absurdthirst]

YESSSSSSS

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

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

**Female Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[endlessthxxghts]

Routine

Frankie Morales x coffee shop worker!afab!reader || W/C: ≈7.9k

Summary: Frankie makes a new routine for himself to help with his mental health. In that routine, Frankie stumbles upon you.

Content/Warnings: POV switching - stops towards the end, then POVs are combined. Friends to lovers. Slightly scared and reluctant friends to lovers. Slow burn. Canon divergent to Frankie's Triple Frontier storyline (No history of lady or child for Frankie). Brief mentions of South America and Frankie's mental health. Brief therapy talk. Overthinking!Frankie, but Reader comforts and reassures him. He’s not insecure the entire time, promise lolol. Hints of angst, but this is me we’re talking about — always will be a happy ending here🫶. No physical description of reader besides coffee shop uniform (no size descriptions used) - any descriptions are neutral, no adjectives to describe (purely things like "your thigh" etc.). No use of "y/n". SMUT 18+ MDNI (making out, cunnilingus + fingering, unprotected P in V sex + cumming inside, breast worship/titty sucking). If there's anything that should be up here, please do not hesitate to let me know!

A/N: Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and happy days, everyone! This Christmas season, I was apart of @pedrostories' 2023 Secret Santa event where we gift some type of creation to another fellow Pedro-related blog on here. I'm honored to have created this story for the lovely @alwaysbethewest ! I'm a huge sucker for a soft man, so in reading the prompt you gave, I just had to write for good ol' Francisco Morales—the sweetest of the bunch. This story was so cute and sexy to write, I'm so excited to see what you think. I truly hope you enjoy!

MASTERLIST || NOTIF BLOG

Frankie

You need to create a routine.

One that takes you out of your house.

Out of your comfort zone.

These words rang in Frankie’s ear as he allowed his feet to make decisions for him today. Ever since South America, Frankie has been struggling to maintain a sense of normalcy again. He rarely leaves his house unless it’s for groceries or work — or as of the last few months, unless it’s for therapy.

Frankie’s therapist noticed he was falling back into his old habits, his old mannerisms; and in being prompted about what his day-to-day looked like outside of therapy, Frankie was met with those three phrases. 

“You need to create a routine.”

“I have one,” Frankie says defensively. 

“One that takes you out of your house.”

“I do,” he says. “Work. The store.” 

“And out of your comfort zone.”

Frankie scoffs. As soon as he thinks of a quip, his therapist’s watch beeps. Saved by the bell. 

Frankie rises, getting ready to leave the room. His therapist leaves him with a new assignment. “Clear your schedule. You’re doing nothing but spontaneous decisions tomorrow.”

He takes a breath to calm his frustration. “How will you even know if I’ve done it?” Frankie asks. 

“I’ll know.”

“And if I lie?”

“I’ll know,” his therapist reassures. 

Which is why he finds himself in the early afternoon at a coffee shop, during what looks like to be its busiest hours of the day. Shit. 

He enters the line as he scans the menu on the wall, the line being long enough he’s sure he’ll make a decision by the time he gets to the register. He usually gets straight black coffee, but taking his therapist’s word a little too seriously, he opts for something else. 

Hazelnut? No. Mocha? No. Vanilla? No. Fuck, okay, this is harder than it looks.

He scans the tinier board off to the side for today’s special: an horchata latte, either iced or hot. Horchata? He can absolutely get by that. The guy at the register takes the order of the customer in front of him, and the same guy switches off and begins to make the customer’s drink. Waiting to be helped, Frankie reaches into his pocket to get his wallet ready, but still angsty from the hustle and bustle of the coffee shop, his grip fumbles and he drops it. 

He bends down to go pick it up, and as he stands back up, he’s immediately met by the most heartstopping view. You, with a brown apron, a hand-drawn name tag, and powdered sugar adorning your cheek. The smile on your face as you greet him causes his brain to short circuit. 

“Hi! How can I help you today?” you beam at him, completely unaware of the cuteness radiating off of you, melting his anxieties made of wasps and transforming them into the shape of flapping butterflies all throughout his tummy. 

“I- um, hi- yeah, I’d, um-” he stumbles on his words. You smile at him, nodding your head patiently and understanding. “Shit, sorry-” he laughs nervously. 

“You’re okay,” you giggle, slightly intrigued at the flushed state of the man before you. “This your first time here? We’ve got a lot of options, it can be very nerve wracking picking from our menu,” you comfort, probably assuming it’s the first-time jitters taking away his ability to speak. 

“Oh, uh- yeah, it’s my first time here,” Frankie confirms. “But actually, I had my mind set on today’s special? The horchata latte?” 

Your face lights up like a million suns, and his heart feels like it’ll burst any second now. “Oh my gosh, really?!” you squeal. “That’s my creation we’ve highlighted today,” you say excitedly, “and you’re actually the first to order it!” You ring up his total, Frankie handing you his card to swipe in the machine. “Hot or iced?” 

“What do you think?”

You study him for a moment. “Personally, I like iced because horchata in itself is already so refreshing, so it adds to that. But you seem like you’d prefer it hot, which is also objectively just as good.”

“Wow,” Frankie says with a smile.

“Was I accurate?” 

“Right on the nail,” he confirms. 

“Your name?” you ask, reaching for a cup.

“My name?” He asks, confused.

You gesture to the cup with a smirk. “For your order?”

“Oh,” he says. You catch the blush that falls on his cheeks. “Frankie,” he tells you, his hand shooting to the back of his neck to soothe his awkwardness.

“Well, Frankie,” you say after writing his name. “I’ll need an honest review after,” you smile at him as you turn away, signaling for someone else to take register so you can be the one to make his drink. 

He can’t help the cheesy smile that forms across his face at the prospect of getting to speak with you again. He turns around and searches for an open table. 

He sat on his phone for a few minutes, waiting for his name to be called when someone clears their throat in front of him. He looks up to see you, powdered sugar still kissing your cheek and two drinks — one iced and one hot — in your hands with that smile he’s slowly becoming addicted to. 

“Didn’t know you guys do table service?” Frankie asks, in a joking manner but truly he’s curious.

“We don’t,” you smile smugly as you place his cup in front of him. “Told you I needed my review.”

He smiles at you, then reaches for a napkin and lifts his hand towards you as you sit in the seat across from him. He gestures to your cheek. “May I?”

You go pale. “Oh, God, don’t tell me I’ve had shit on my face this entire time?” 

“Okay, then I won’t,” he offers gently. You lean closer into his hand, giving him the green light. He wipes the powdered sugar from your cheek, his face in concentration mode as he makes sure to wipe it all off. He feels you staring, his face heating up the longer your eyes are on him, but he doesn’t break. 

“There,” he whispers, “the shit is gone.” Your faces are still inches from each other. 

“Thought you weren’t gonna say anything?” you whisper back. 

He breaks the proximity first, clearing his throat to steady himself. He doesn’t reply to your remark. Instead, he grabs the coffee and brings it up to his lips. “Let’s see what this is all about, yeah?” The second the hot liquid touches his tongue, he knows his days of black coffee are over. It’s creamy, the perfect amount of cinnamon, a perfectly pulled espresso shot that highlights the natural nutty undertones — it’s fucking perfect, and he tells you exactly that. 

“Guess now you’ve got an excuse to come back,” you tell him. 

“I think I had an excuse before that,” Frankie quickly lets out before taking another heady sip, referring to the beautiful human sitting past him. 

You lean back in your seat, arms crossed over your chest, something akin to trouble written across your face. “Yeah,” you breathe. “Yeah, I guess you did.” 

He’s experienced enough to know when someone is flirting with him. He’s experienced enough to notice a mutual attraction. Yet, there’s something so bold, so intoxicating about you that you’ve thrown him off balance. Whether you’re just a naturally friendly, bold person, or you’ve actually taken an interest in him, there’s no way he’s going away now. You’ve got him hooked. 

You need to create a routine, he was told, and creating a routine is exactly what he’s going to do. 

It’s been six months since his first visit, and in those six months, he’s had the opportunity to really get to know you. 

In the first month, he visited twice a week, once during the weekdays and once on the weekends. He made sure to time it on what he noticed to be your shift, and he also timed it for right when you were about to take your break. Catching on pretty quickly, you offer him a bit of reassurance. 

“My schedule is the most consistent out of all of my coworkers, by the way,” you say, sipping on your iced mocha. 

His ears perk up. “Yeah? Why’s that?” 

“Been here the longest, so the owners let me play around with my schedule and pick up shifts that I want to,” you tell him. “But my therapist a few years ago told me to set a routine for myself, so-”

Frankie chokes on his coffee with a laugh. 

“Oh my god,” you giggle, “you okay?” you ask him, leaning forward to pat on his back. 

Frankie’s breath falters at the contact. “Y-yeah, I’m good,” he pulls away from your embrace out of nervousness. If you notice, you don’t mention it. “Just threw me off a little.”

“Why? What’d I say?” you reply. 

“No, it’s nothing, it’s just,” he sets his coffee down. “A month ago, I had a therapy session, and my therapist told me the exact same thing. They literally told me I needed to create a routine for myself,” he says. 

“Oh,” you say with a straight face. Your face goes unreadable for a second, and he feels like he fucked something up. “So is that why you’ve been harassing me for weeks on end?”

Frankie looks like he’s just seen a ghost, pale and flushed at the same time, his ability to form any kind of words rendered impossible. “I- no, I-”

In his state of panic, he’s looking everywhere except you. He feels your hands wrap around his, and you’re leaning closer to him, forcing him to look into your eyes. “Frankie, I’m joking,” you coo. You can see his jaw unclench as he searches your eyes for any signs of discomfort from him. Nothing. There’s something there as he holds your stare, but nothing tells him you don’t want him here. A shy smile forms on his face, and the bashful blush on his cheeks return. He knows you notice it, but still, you don’t mention it. 

“For what it’s worth,” you speak again. “I enjoy having you in my routine, too,” his own giddy demeanor reflecting back at him through you. There goes the butterflies again. 

Five months in, and he’s coming into the shop everyday. He doesn’t always get coffee, but mostly, he’s there to see you. Sometimes you’re way too busy to take a break any time soon, so he’ll slip in, give you a little wave hello, accept your sweet smile in return, and he’ll slip out. 

“Gonna actually get something today, Morales?” 

A few visits ago on your break, you ask him if his name is short for anything, and quickly add in that if Frankie is what he prefers, you don’t care to know anything else. His heart melts at the sentiment, at how understanding and gentle of a human you are. Not only to him, but to everyone who has the privilege to interact with you. 

Francisco Morales, he tells you. Francisco, Frankie, Frank, you can call me whatever you want. This time, he thinks he catches the heat creeping on your face, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. 

“Morales, huh? And what do you mean actually?”

“I’m not dumb, Frankie,” you smirk. “I know you don’t get anything a few of the times you stop by.” 

He swears his heart falls out of his ass. He thought you’d be too busy to even notice. As a former special op, he thought he would have been more slick about it. 

He scans the menu above you, as if he hasn’t studied it a thousand times over, just to get out of your piercing gaze. “Just tryna keep the routine, is all,” he retorts. 

“The routine, huh?” you smile at him, a hint of mischief in your eyes, along with that same something he can’t quite identify — it makes his chest swell. “Your favorite is back on the menu, by the way.” 

Frankie turns to the special board: horchata latte. Smiling to himself before he responds, “I’ll have that, then,” he says, reaching for his card. “You going on your break now?” he asks. 

“Yes,” you reply, “and coffee is on me today.”

His eyebrow quirks up at you. “Please?” you tell him with the world’s worst (more like cutest) puppy dog eyes he’s ever seen. How the hell can he say no to you now?

“Fine,” he deadpans. 

You squeal in excitement. You shoo him away to go find a seat, and you’re at his side within moments, two hot cups in your hands. 

He looks quizzically at the other cup. “I don’t know, I’m just feeling like a hot cup today,” you shrug. “What can I say, you’ve influenced me,” you giggle, not realizing just how much that statement affects Frankie’s crushing little heart. God, you’re beautiful, he can’t help but think as you curl up as best you can in your chair while you sip on your coffee. He knows he shouldn’t feel this way about you. One, you’re practically his best friend at this point, and two, you probably wouldn’t want anything to do with someone like him. 

“So,” you say, pulling him from his thoughts. 

“So,” he repeats. 

“I was actually thinking of taking this weekend off,” you tell him. 

His face falls a little, but he’s quick to fix it before you notice — hopefully. “Oh, is everything okay?” he asks. 

“Nothing bad,” you reassure him. “I just think I need a little weekend to myself before the busy holiday season really starts.” 

“That’s understandable,” Frankie replies. 

“Yeah,” you say softly. “But…” you trail off. 

“Buuuut?” He drags the word out for dramatic effect, sensing your nervousness and wanting to help calm you. 

You giggle at his antics. “But I don’t wanna break our routine,” you say quietly. A little oh escapes his mouth. “I was wondering if you- if you wanted to hang out, maybe? On Saturday? Or even Sunday? Whatever works for you… and you can obviously say no, don’t feel obligated-” 

It’s always been you cutting him off from his overthinking and comforting him, and now it’s his turn. He leans forward, wrapping his hands around yours as they hug your coffee cup. He gives you a little squeeze and calls your name gently. “I would love to.”

“Okay,” you say sweetly. “Wanna do a movie night?”

“Anything you want,” he tells you.

It’s surprising he didn’t have your phone number until five months in. Though, come to think of it, he’s seen you practically everyday since he met you. And there was no need to communicate beyond that. Right? 

Shaking his head to clear him from his thoughts, he copies your address from your guys’ text thread and pastes it into his maps. It takes him five minutes to get to your place, and as soon as he gets to your front door, you’re already opening before he has a chance to knock. 

“Oh! Frankie, hi,” you gasp delightedly. “Perfect timing,” you laugh. “I was just gonna grab the groceries out of my car. Go inside, make yourself at home.”

“Hi,” he smiles, “I can help with the groceries?”

“Oh, that’s okay, it’s just one bag. Give me one second,” you say walking to your car. 

He waits for you as you grab the bag, both of you walking back inside together. “So I’m terrible at picking a movie, and if I didn’t narrow down our options, I feel like we’d be here all night deciding.”

“What do ya got for me?” he smiles as he makes his way to your couch, purely just enjoying being in your presence regardless of the movie you both decide to put on. 

“Alright, since we’re nearing Christmas, I have a few holiday options, and then a few general of my favorites — Elf, The Grinch, or Home Alone; or we can do my personal favorite, but I promise I’m good with whatever you choose, Labyrinth, Paddington 1 or 2-”

Frankie’s eyes light up at the latter option, and you immediately catch on. “Okay, so I’m guessing one of the Paddington’s?” you say with a snort. 

He grimaces. “Was it that obvious?” 

“Frankie, you literally looked at me like I am your entire world,” you laugh. “Yes, it was that obvious.”

“I mean, it’s not any different than how I usually look at you,” Frankie says without thinking. Immediately his hand is on his mouth. 

He sees the shock on your face for a millisecond before you’re back to your usual cool and collected self. How the fuck do you do that? “Okay but which Paddington? There’s only one right answer, here.” 

Although his heart is still beating through his damn chest, the question puts him back on track. “Paddington 2, duh,” he says without missing a beat, he rolls his eyes as he playfully scoffs at you. 

“Good answer,” you say sternly but with a smile. You set up your TV onto Paddington 2 and then quickly run to the kitchen to grab the popcorn you made. You set the bowl on your coffee table, turning back to grab something to drink. “What’s your drink of choice? I’ve got water, tea, soda — I can whip up a coffee for you, too, if you’d like,” you yell to him. 

“Hmm, enticing, but I’m okay with water for now, though, thank you.”

You return back to your living room, scanning the table making sure you don’t need anything else. You ask Frankie if he does. 

“Just you,” Frankie says, again, not thinking before he speaks. God damn it, Francisco, get it together. 

You smirk at him, he sees your eyes tracing the red across his cheeks. Christ. “You’ve had me for a while, Morales,” you say under your breath, softly but still loud enough for him to hear. Your words genuinely cause his heart to skip a beat. You settle onto the couch beside him, ignoring his shocked face. “Ready to watch?” hints of your smugness still there. 

“Y-yeah, ready,” he stutters.

Six months. It’s been six months since he met you and his old self would never have expected his day to day to look like this. He’s got a usual stop at your work—always on his lunch since you start later—sometimes getting coffee and other times your smile is all that he needs to feel energized for the day. 

You

And on the weekends, you two share a movie night—your version of recharging for your next work week. 

Ever since the first weekend you took off, you loved the mental break it gave you, so Frankie encouraged you to take the leap and start taking off every weekend. The owners agreed, of course. He assured you it wouldn’t break into your routine together. If anything, your time together has increased significantly. You genuinely have no idea what you’d do without Frankie at your side nearly every single day, but there’s something in your heart telling you he’s feeling the same way. 

For six months, since the very first moment he fell bashful in his presence, you’ve been completely and utterly captivated by him. You knew you shouldn’t be feeling this way about him—especially not so early and not for this long—but there’s always been a magnetic pull between you. Both of you know it and neither of you can deny it, especially in the occasional flirty comment made by either of you, but there’s something holding you back from pushing for something more. You’ve grown accustomed to seeing him practically every single day, and one wrong move or one wrong boundary crossed, and suddenly everything is gone. You can’t risk it. You’d rather keep him at arm's length at all times rather than not have him at all. He’s your best friend for crying out loud. You cannot lose him to something so juvenile. 

However, with tonight being your weekend ritual paired with a particularly draining week of work, all you wanted was to curl up in a ball and sleep your entire weekend away. Though, what you wanted more was to see Frankie. He told you it was truly okay if he didn’t come tonight, knowing about how hectic your week was, but you weren’t having any of that. 

“I swear to God, Frankie, I will fight you,” you told him on the phone earlier. 

“Oh, really?” You could hear his smug face in his reply. “I’d like to see you try.”

The butterflies erupt in your belly and begin to fly lower towards your core, igniting a spark in the lower part of you that you’ve been trying to keep at bay for months. You take a deep breath before steering the conversation elsewhere. You know he both hates and loves when you do that—smoothly pulling away from the bait he gives you while saving his ego in the process. You’ve gotten so good at this after years of unwanted flirting from customers. You didn’t realize how perfect this skill would be in keeping your distance from the man you want most.

“Shut up and get your ass over here, Morales,” you tell him. “I know where you live, you should be here by the time I change into my damn pajamas.”

“Should I change into mine, too?” He teases.

You both know Frankie loses every flirty little challenge that occurs between you. Which is why he isn’t surprised at your response, but it still stirs him up nonetheless. “That depends,” you say, your voice dropping in tone. “Are you a gray sweatpants or plaid pajama pants kind of guy?”

“Both,” he says. To the average ear, it’d sound like the most casual response. To your ear, though, you can hear the pain laced in his voice. 

You stifle a giggle. “In that case, yes, please, by all means. Change into your pajamas, baby.”

You don’t leave room for him to reply, ending the call before you can overthink how that was the most suggestive flirty comment you’ve made yet. 

Pulling your head back into focus mode, you go to your kitchen to start preparing the usual snacks you two indulge in during these nights. You also got a new ice cream flavor on your last grocery run that you thought was interesting and wanted to try, but you’ll pull that out when he gets here. Or maybe not. You don’t need to watch him clean off his spoon like the attentive man you’ve come to learn that he is. Your body shudders at the image. 

Goodness, what is up with you today? You are always so good at keeping your feelings down, especially the physical ones. There must be something in the air today, because all you can think about are things you shouldn’t be doing with or to your best friend. 

Before you know it, a knock is at your door, and you cannot help the way your eyes immediately sweep his body from top to bottom with a lingering stare at his center. You’re absolutely shameless with it, too, your tongue darting out to lick your lips as you drink in the sight of him. Gray sweatpants. A dark green, fitted tee. You are drooling. 

Your eyes finally meet his own, and you’re met with a smug Frankie, knowing that this time, he won this round. “You alright there?” He asks you. 

Confusion takes over your face. “Huh?”

He brings his fingers up to swipe across his lip. Oh, dear God. “Got a little bit of...” he trails off with a smile. 

Your ears finally register his remark, and your hand is immediately swatting at his chest. “Yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes. “Get inside.”

He follows you into the kitchen, a new thing he started doing a few weekends ago to help bring all the snacks to your living room in one go rather than multiple trips. It also takes away from the amount of time he’s not with you, so you never questioned it. Walking back to the living room, you speak once more. “I cannot guarantee staying up the entire time, and I apologize now if I fall asleep on you.”

He says your name in an I told you so manner, “I already told you I didn’t have to come.” 

You’re sitting side by side on the couch now. “And I already told you I don’t care,” you respond back. He shakes his head disapprovingly at your persistence. You know he’s biting back a smile. A goofy smile you’ve caught a handful of times, and you eat up every single one. “You can choose the movie, though, seriously.” Adjusting yourself to a more comfortable position on the couch, a position where the sides of your bodies are closer together, your head finding solace on his shoulder, you add, “I swear, I think I wanted you here to be my pillow.”

“I’ll be anything you want me to be,” he whispers, taking control of the remote to throw on Elf. Your eyes are already beginning to close, and you mutter a small yeah at Frankie’s statement, then you are out like a light.

Frankie

Frankie spends most of the night watching and listening to you rather than the movie. Watching how your nose twitches ever so often or listening to the occasional snore that escapes you. He doesn’t even realize the movie is over until a trailer for another movie is halfway through. His wingspan allows him to reach the remote nearby, and he quickly shuts the television off. 

He debates if he should wake you and make sure you get to your bed safely, or if he should just slip out from underneath you and continue letting you sleep. You look so peaceful, he thinks. Yet exhausted. He decides on letting you sleep. Or at least, he tries to. 

He gently attempts separating himself from you, his hand cradling your head to rest it on the couch cushion rather than his shoulder. Even in your sleepy state, you’re just as stubborn. You smack his hand away and wrap your arms tighter around his arm, nuzzling your head further into his shoulder to gain your comfort back again. You let out a final huff before settling on your position. 

“Sweet girl,” he whispers. He can’t stop the endearment leaving his lips. His heart is too full at the way you’re physically attaching yourself to him. “I need to go,” he says softly. “Gotta let you sleep.” 

Your grip tightens more so, a little whimper leaving your lips as your eyebrows furrow. “Stay,” you mumble. 

And although you’re fully overtaken by sleep, he’ll be damned if he ever argues with you, no matter the state you’re in. He takes a deep, settling breath. “Only for a little while longer,” he mumbles unconvincingly as he minutely adjusts his body to a more comfortable position, his head leaning partly atop yours. 

You

It’s not lost on you—the two words that fell from Frankie’s lips when he thought you were deep in your slumber. It took every ounce of your willpower not to shudder at the way it echoed throughout your fatigue-hollowed brain. 

You thought that maybe, with Frankie’s perception of your sleepy state, you could let part of your inhibitions go with him—reveal to him how you really feel, and pretend the next morning that you don’t remember what you said if something you don’t want to hear is revealed. Though, that’s easier said than done, only able to build the courage to mutter one little word to him as you continue laying in his warm embrace, the soothing sounds of his steady breathing blessing your ears. 

The longer you lay here, the more antsy you become. What could possibly go wrong if you two revealed how you feel to each other? You know one hundred percent that the feelings are mutual; it’s a matter of who breaks first, and quite honestly? You’re fed up. 

You lift your head up, turning to look at him. He’s out.  “Frankie,” you whisper-yell. Nothing. 

“Frankie,” you say a little louder. Still nothing.  How the hell did he doze so fast?

Finally, with a small slap to his cheek and one final call of his name, he’s up—and confused as fuck. 

“Huh-” he blinks heavily. His groggy eyes are searching for you. “Cariño, are you okay? What’s going on?” he rushes out, the sleep disorienting his ability to respond appropriately, forcing worry to the forefront of his mind. 

Too worked up to let his brain chemistry regulate, you rip the bandaid right off. “Francisco, do you have feelings for me?”

Well, fuck. If he wasn’t awake then, he sure as hell is now. 

“I-” he takes a deep breath, still trying to get his brain to catch up with the whiplash of events. “Where’s this coming from?” he asks, slightly defensive from the natural accusatory inflection with a question like this. 

Your face falls. So does his heart. “Frankie, don’t be coy,” you say—you beg. “Please, just answer the question.” 

He breaks your closeness, turning his body on the couch to completely face you. You mirror his movement. His eyes are searching yours. That something he couldn’t quite identify; that something that swims your gaze every time his eyes meet yours? It’s there, and he knows damn well what it is. He was just too afraid to admit it, to mortalize it into something real, something tangible. Because deep down? He knows he doesn’t deserve you. He doesn’t deserve the love you give. The loyalty. The care. He’s done too much bad in this world to even fathom a mere chance at a life with you. 

But the way you sit there, staring back at him like he’s your entire world, he can’t stop the selfish desire to spill his truth to you. 

“Yes,” he lets out. The pure admittance is like a ton of weights have been completely lifted off of his chest after carrying it for so long. He can see the relief on your face, too, all your anxieties washing away with a single-syllable, three letter word. 

“Oh, thank God,” you softly giggle as you choke back a sob. Frankie can feel his eyes tear up. 

“Frankie?” you call. 

“Yeah?” He asks. 

“Please kiss me.”

His hands are on your cheeks in seconds, pulling you in to slot his lips with yours, a sweetness laced with a fire that’s been begging to be ignited since he met you—powdered sugared cheeks and a smile that could take a person out faster than any punch in the gut could. 

It’s quick to grow more passionate, his tongue dancing across your bottom lip, asking for entrance. You let him in, of course—your tongue falls into a perfect tango, as if it were meant to be doing this dance with him all along. A soft, breathy moan escapes your lips, and you eventually build enough strength to pull away. 

Frankie’s quick to apologize, his overthinking getting the best of him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get so carried away-”

You pull him in for a quick kiss to shut him up, a little laugh swirling in the air. “At what point did I make it feel or sound like I wasn’t enjoying that?”

In the dim light of your living room, you see a familiar tint glow across his nose and cheeks. He doesn’t—and can’t—respond to your very sound logic. “No, I-” you start, suddenly feeling yourself get all shy. “I pulled away because I- um…I was wondering if y-you-” you cut yourself off in frustration, grumbling out at the way you suddenly can’t face the man whose tongue was in your throat moments ago. 

You pick yourself up off the couch, grab his wrist, and swiftly lead you two to your bedroom. Crossing the threshold of your room, you stop at the edge of your bed. “I-is this okay?” 

Frankie stares at you in a trance, a lust-filled yet pure adoring trance. Before your eyesight can register, Frankie’s dropping to his knees, hands on your hips to urge you to settle on your bed. “This is okay,” he promises. 

He kisses your belly through your pajamas. “More than okay,” he mumbles to no one in particular. 

“Frankie,” you whimper.

“Can I taste you, baby?” He asks, his gaze finally breaking from your eyes to glance down to your core. 

“Y-you don’t have to,” your voice quivers. 

His fingers find the hem of your pants, waiting for your signal. “Oh, I don’t have to,” he tells you. “But I want to,” he inhales. “To be honest, I need to, so fucking bad, baby.”

“Fuck,” you say as you rapidly nod your head for him, his hands wasting no time in pulling your bottoms of you. The desperation laced in his voice alone has your eyes wanting to roll back. You’re settling yourself to the edge of your bed, leaning back as you spread your legs for him. “Take what you want, Morales,” you declare.

He smirks before he dives in. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Oh!” you gasp out at the sensation, pure warmth and passion behind his movements, your head struggles to maintain upright at the sight. Your bottom lip instinctively hides between your teeth in an attempt to stifle the moans threatening to escape you, your tiny little whimpers the only sounds escaping you. 

He starts with a flat stripe up your cunt, his tongue gliding through your folds and lapping up your wetness to bring it up to circle your clit a few times before dragging back down to your entrance. His fingers are curling into your bed sheet tightly, scared to cross any boundaries by moving too fast to your liking. His cock instantly jumps at his senses being consumed; your sweet, tangy taste mixed with the distinct, saccharine scent that’s uniquely you—he can’t control the groan that escapes his throat and floods through you. God, he could spend forever worshiping at your altar, completely and utterly content. 

He pulls away momentarily, the slick bottom half of his face shining back at you. “I just know you can make a lot more of those sweet sounds for me, cariño,” he says as his tongue licks his bottom lip. “It’s just you and me, baby, let me hear you,” he says with a sharp flick of his tongue to your clit. “F-fuck,” you yelp out, your body jolting at the sudden piercing pleasure of his tongue’s movement, your fingers scrambling to the curls on his head. He looks up to you with a smirk, reveling in your reaction.

And with that, his hands are gripping your thighs, his face jumping right back in, completely flush against your center, his nose squished against your mound. His eyes are rolling back at the feel of you, the way your slick just pours for him as he continues licking and sucking everywhere he can reach. “F-feel so good,” you moan, your strength finally breaking as your upper body crashes down onto the bed, your back arching in pleasure. 

His dominant hand releases your thigh, and you can feel his finger teasing your entrance as his mouth treks back up to your needy bundle of nerves. “Frankie,” you gasp, “please.” 

He moans a raspy mhm into you, his finger not wasting another second before he dips inside, utterly turned on at the warmth wrapped around his finger. He can only imagine how you’d feel wrapped around his aching length. 

Frankie lifts off your clit with a pop, his finger still pumping in and out, in and out. Your hips are meeting each movement, desperate moans and incoherent pleas leaving your mouth as he watches your pleasure in a pure bliss.

His eyes fall back down to your cunt and the way it’s greedily swallowing his middle finger. “God damn, baby,” he mutters. “I think you can take another, sweet girl,” he breathes, leaning down again to place an open-mouthed kiss on your sensitive center. “What do ya think?” he asks breathily. 

He’s watching every inch of you—the way your thighs are twitching, the way your fingers are straining in its grip, the way your mouth is falling open into a weak o-shape as you try and force words to leave your mouth. “P-please,” you attempt, “a-another-”

Immediately, he’s straightening out his ring finger to join his middle, his smug smirk falling into a desperate one, needing to pull every ounce of pleasure he can from you really his only goal for tonight. “I’ve got you, cariño,” he tells you, his mouth returning back to lavish you as his fingers curl and hit the spongy trigger button from deep inside. 

You practically yell out for him—neighbors be damned—as your orgasm overtakes every inch of your being, catapulting you into another pleasure-filled dimension. “I’ve got you,” he comforts with his lips still attached to your skin, “let go for me, mi amor.”

His fingers are still pumping inside of you, fucking you through the intense wave of your orgasm. His head rests on your thigh, pressing soft kisses  and sweet praises as you slowly gain consciousness.

“You’re so beautiful.”

“Too good to me.”

“Estoy tan enamorado de ti.” 

Frankie takes your hazy disposition for granted, using this small window to whisper everything he’s been wanting to say to you forever. 

You begin to whimper at his movements, and he takes that as his queue to relieve you. His fingers finally leave, his mouth taking the responsibility of lapping up your slick—thoroughly, you note, as you watch him rise to his full height.

“You okay, cariño?” He asks as he swiftly takes his shirt off. Your eyes grow impossibly darker at his bare torso, your spit falling thicker, and you’re quick to scramble yourself up higher onto your bed. 

“More than okay,” you mirror his words from earlier. He lets out a little laugh, the butterflies in his tummy ever-present as his eyes scan you up and down. He pulls down his sweats, too, before he’s kneeling on the bed, crawling up towards where you’re situated. You can’t help the way your smirk falls when your eyes do—pure hunger consumes your features, and Frankie’s cock jumps at the sight. 

He gulps at the way you’re eating him alive, too eager to be inside you yet too nervous in the case of accidentally messing anything up. The last thing he wants to do is cross the line with you. 

As if reading his mind, you take the initiative to pull your top off, your boobs an immediate distraction from his anxieties. “Don’t get shy on me now, Morales,” you say as you let your hands caress your body and make its way down to your still-soaked pussy. “She’s feeling so empty,” you pout, your hips bucking up as your fingers rub your clit. 

You swear Frankie’s eyes flash red, and he’s caging you against your bed within seconds. One arm hooked around your waist, the other holding himself up near your head. You bracket his hips with your own as his lips hungrily crash into yours. 

You can feel the way his cock rubs against your center, his hips grinding into yours, letting his tip catch onto your clit as your tongues fight for dominance. Your hand snakes down without him realizing, a hearty gasp leaving his throat as your fingers pump him a few times before you guide him towards your entrance, easily pulling him in with your post-orgasm slick. 

He’s slow with the way he’s thrusting into you; pulling out until only the tip is inside only to push all the way in at an agonizing pace as he lets you get used to his size.“S-shit,” he whimpers, followed by your name. “So d-damn g-good,” he takes a shaky breath. “‘S like you were m-made f’me,” he forces out, pained. 

Even though it was an easy glide in, Frankie is fucking huge, his girth still providing a slight sting of a stretch, but you love it. You’re gonna feel him inside you for days at a time, and the thought makes your pussy flutter around him. His hold on your waist tightens in an attempt to steady any squirming that might come from you. “Gonna fucking cum already if you keep on like that, honey,” he groans. His eyes are shut in pained pleasure. 

Fighting against his hold, you start meeting his thrusts, the angle of your hips providing the perfect friction against your clit, you just might cum again in seconds if you both keep this up. 

“I don’t care,” you tell him, your ankles locking around his waist. “Fuck me, Frankie,” you say, grabbing onto his face to making him look at you. “Make up for loss time, and fuck me,” you snarl. 

His lips are sloppily on you, hips speeding up, pounding into you deliciously hard. Both of you are too lost in the pleasure to even properly kiss right now—a mess of spit, tongue, and teeth clashing as you swallow each other’s moans. 

Frankie breaks his lips from yours and he trails his touch lower, biting onto your chin and nipping lower and lower all over your neck. The sensation causes a fresh wave of flutters at your core, evident in the even louder wet squelch each thrust produces from between you. 

You’re feeling so good, too good, that your chest arches into him, and Frankie takes the opportunity to wrap his lips around your erect nipples. Licking and sucking on each, slathering them in his spit before ultimately latching onto your left breast and practically making out with it as he continues fucking you into your matress. 

“Oh my God, Frankie,” you whine, eyes clamping shut at just how good he’s making you feel. “Just like that, baby, please don’t stop,” you say, your fingers finding purchase in his curls for a second time tonight, keeping him on your chest. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum again.”

He lifts off your left breast, and moves on to the right, trailing wet kisses on his path over. “Let me feel you, princesa,” he mutters as he gives your other breast the same treatment. His hand leaves your waist to make its way to your clit, giving you the extra push you needed to fall off the edge once more. Your pussy clenches at the feeling—a stream of yes and please and fuck leaves your mouth—causing his stomach to tighten, dragging him to the edge along with you. “Cum with me,” you say. “Cum in me,” you quickly revise, “need to feel you,” you whimper. 

His fingers speed up on you as his hips falter in its rhythm, and then it’s pure white, hot bliss consuming both of you in a way neither of you have ever felt. “Oh, fuck,” he lets out as he lifts off of your breast, pretty red flowers blooming under his mouth’s touch. Fireworks erupt behind your eyelids, vibrating you from the inside out, as a fire roars through every nerve of his body, leaving him a heaving, trembling, jello piece of mass above you as he struggles not to crush you. 

You can feel the way his muscles are shaking, the bed vibrating with him. A giggle filled with ecstasy escapes you, relishing in the contrast of the airiness of your body compared to the solid mass he turns into post-orgasm. 

You grab onto his shoulders, and softly nudge him to slide to lay beside you before you slip off on jello legs to the bathroom and kitchen. With as much strength he can muster, he turns to you with a frown. “Where you going?” 

“Just gonna get a cloth and water for us both, baby,” you chuckle. You head to the kitchen first and bring the waters to your night stand, taking a large gulp from your glass and forcing him to do the same. You bring yourself back to the bathroom and wipe yourself with a warm cloth, throw it in the hamper, and get a new one to clean Frankie. 

You make your way to his bedside, and you bring the cloth to his face first. He’s quick to stop you. “Frank,” you scold. “What are you doing?”

“I…” his face goes red. “I can still smell you on me.”

You swear your knees buckle, heat overtaking your entire body. “Let me clean it,” you whisper, not really knowing how to reply to that. He just gives you puppy dog eyes. You quirk your eyebrow at him. “You can taste me again later,” you offer with a smirk. 

He thinks it over for a second, a sigh escaping his lips like he just made the hardest decision ever. “Fiiiine,” he drags out, exaggerated. 

After you wipe the rest of him down and bring his cloth to your hamper, he’s quick to reach for you with grabby hands, always needing to be in your embrace—especially more so now.

You cuddle facing each other, your head tucked into his neck as your legs tangle with one another. He’s drawing shapes and lines all around your back. 

“Hey, Frankie?” you call out. 

“Yeah, cariño?” 

“You said something earlier,” you say. “Estoy enamorado something. What does that mean?”

Frankie’s ears go hot. Surely after everything you two just did together, that’s a declaration of love in itself. What more if it’s actually verbalized? “Oh. Um- yeah,” he replies a little rigidly. “Estoy tan enamorado de ti,” he repeats the phrase. 

You’re looking up at him now, eyes bright and curious. “Yeah, that!”

“It- um- it means…” he trails off. He meets your gaze, and his heart stops. He’s so in love with you. 

“Well,” he clears his throat. “It means I’m so in love with you.”

Your gaze shifts from one of curiosity to one of pure, unfiltered love. Your eyes are tearing up at his admission. He brings his finger up to catch a tear escaping your eye. 

You sniffle and take a shaky breath in. “Well, in that case. I’m so in love with you,” you state matter-of-factly, pushing your body up to catch his lips in a soft but lengthy kiss, one that hopefully translates to him just how much you love him, need him, and want him—ever since you took his order. 

He releases your lips to place a soft kiss to your nose then to your forehead before pulling you in closer to relax in each other’s hold. A few more moments pass before he calls your name. 

“Hm?” 

“Can you remind me tomorrow to reach out to my therapist?” 

“Of course, baby,” you say with a kiss to his chest. “Everything okay?” 

“Oh, yeah, baby, everything’s good,” he confirms. “Just need to send them a gift basket or something.”

You look up at him with a confused look on your face. “You and your therapist give each other gifts during Christmas?”

“No,” he tells you. “Well, I thought we didn’t. But in telling me to fix my routine, they led me to you, so.”

“Baby,” you frown, feeling yourself tear up again. 

“I know I pay ‘em to do this,” he says, “but a gift like this? A miracle like this? I feel like I’ve gotta give something a little more.”

Unable to hold in your emotions, you crash your lips against his for the millionth time tonight. Pulling away a little breathless, you say, “Sign my name on there, too.” 

End note: Again, I truly hope you, @alwaysbethewest (and everyone else) were able to enjoy the way this sweet sweet story unfolded. I didn't realize just how much their dynamic would mean to me, but here we are, an entire piece of my heart later💚. Thank you for prompting me exactly what you did. I'm endlessly grateful. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and Happy New Year! Lastly, I just want to give a little special shoutout to my rock @javierpena-inatacvest for proofreading this story for me and making sure it did our Frankie boy justice. I love you.💚

Tags: @katiexpunk @janaispunk @farmerlarrry @mellymbee @jobee403 @soavenuepenguin @rainbowcosmicchaos @untamedheart81 @lilynotdilly @babygal-babygal @pedritoferg @pedrostories @akah565 @getitoutofmymind @axshadows @survivingandenduring @joels-shitty-puns @its-nebuleuse @yorksgirl

Please let me know if you would like to be tagged in future stories or would like to stop being tagged altogether. Much love! Xx

EDIT: As of the new year 2024, I no longer do taglists!! Follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs and turn on the notifications to be updated when new stories come out!!

[f10werfae]

Mi Princesa

pairing: Sugar Daddy!Pedro Pascal x Pregnant!Reader

summary: Some morning loving with Pedro Pascal and his very pregnant wife, and maybe a little spice in the shower (DILF Warning ) Disclaimer 18+

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated🫶

Full Masterlist, Pedro Pascal Masterlist

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Good morning mi princesa, and good morning mi amor” Pedro whispered bending down to kiss his wife’s 6 month bump, the coldness of his wedding ring making her flinch. “Baby, ya woke her up” She whined feeling the small fluttery kicks erupt at the tip of her stomach, her eyes still closed but her lips already aiming for Pedro’s, giving him one hell of a wet kiss. “I’m sorry baby, daddy wanted to talk to his princesa” He whispered gruffly, one of his hands sneaking up her sleep shirt to cup and squeeze at one of her swollen breasts, massaging it softly.

“Eh? What about your other princesa?” Y/n winked biting her lip, softly moaning at the feeling of his cold hands on her tits, he was always so gentle with her; almost as if she was made of glass. “Mm can’t forget about her, but you’ve been upgraded baby, tú eres mi reina”

“Hmm sounds sexy what does it mean?” Tracing the side of his face she felt his hand fall back down to her rounded stomach, a habit he had picked up over the past few weeks, along with the belly kisses and telling his baby-girl stories. “Means you’re my reina, my queen, and this little girl, is our princesa”

“God could you get any sweeter, sexier and even more handsome Pedro” She squealed using her energy to hoist herself up to straddle him, even with her stomach in the way, she leant down as best as possible to pepper kisses all over his neck; giggling once she felt his hand on her ass, softly drumming against it with his hand. “Oh shit, I may have peed a little” She said suddenly sitting up, knowing damn well how much her precious princess loves using her bladder as a cushion, sending her to the toilet multiple times an hour.

“Did I ever tell you how much I love your waddle?” Pedro whistled watching her speed waddle into the toilet, a hand on the small of her back as she sent a glare his way, sticking her tongue out at him. “ah baby don’t get like that with me, I can’t stand it when mi reina gives me that face” Pedro sighed springing himself out of the cotton sheets, following his wife like a cute little puppy, just watching her wash her hands and brush her teeth. “Stop giving me those eyes, Mr Pascal” She warned spitting out the rest of her water, reaching behind him to pull on the water heater,

“What eyes Mrs. Pascal? The eyes you fell in love with? The eyes you look into while-“

“Yes yes, those eyes, now help me” She smiled widely holding both hands up in the air, watching on as Pedro pulled his shirt off her body, hearing him wolf whistle once he saw her nude body; acting as if they hadn’t been going at it like rabbits due to her raging hormones. “Come on daddy, don’t ya wanna shower with the mommy?” She smirked slowly stepping into the shower, her hands rubbing over her stomach as she tilted her head cutely, knowing damn well what it did to her sugar daddy husband.

“Mierda, the things you do to me woman” He groaned quickly ridding himself of his shorts and t-shirt, his arms instinctively wrapping around her waist to bring her side flush against his chest, the gruff of his facial hair softly scratching against the top of her head. He could practically feel the heat coming from her wet centre the more he felt up her wet body, taking his sweet time to kiss and grab at all his favourite spots (which was basically everywhere) Taking his time to kiss at her breasts, her stomach, her arms, even bending down to kiss at her thighs.

“Please Pedro, you know what you’re doing, s’not fair” She sighed stomping her foot lightly, furrowing her brows as his tongue licked stripes up her neck and into her mouth; causing her to moan into his hot wet open mouth. “I need you daddy, please” She whined using the nickname that started their relationship in the first place, on that dodgy sugar baby site. Her hand leading his down to her already swollen clit, directing his fingers to rub slow soft circles on her button.

“I’ve got you mi vida, got to help my princesa’s mama, mi reina” He whispered kissing her lips then her cheek, his fingers moving at a steady pace as he felt her grasp onto his forearms for balance, her forehead leaning against his chest.

“I-i’m close baby, so so close” She whispered kissing his pec, gasping when she felt his fingers sort through her holds, swiftly inserting a finger into her snug hole; with one finger at her clit simultaneously. “Let go for me mama, i’m right here, let go for me gorgeous girl” He sighed against her temple, feeling her clench onto one of his fingers as she shook against him; her legs slightly trembling. “Good girl baby, feel and taste you so good” Rubbing her folds gently to let her ride her high, he slowly removed his hands, licking them clean as he looked into her eyes.

“You’re crazy Pedro, but I love you so much for it” She breathed out, clearly out of breath, her body fully leaning onto his for support; before wincing again when she felt an extra strong kick being delivered to her ribs, her little girl was finally awake again. Pedro’s hands immediately rushing to her stomach, shushing his little baby at the same time, he was in awe at her sheer strength. His lips meeting the stretch marks on his wife’s belly, his eyes marvelled in awe at how beautifully they were spread on her skin, the marks telling a story of how she was carrying his baby, their baby. Their princesa

“mi princesa, no le hagas daño a tu madre, she takes such good care of you, making sure you’re safe and healthy in her amazing beautiful body. Take care inside there okay? You can kick papa all you want when we meet you, but for now stay calm mi princess, te amo mucho”

———

no le hagas daño a tu madre = Don’t hurt your mother

PSA: This was so cute to write I loved it so much🫶 So I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it :)

*All Spanish came from online as i’m not fluent, if something needs corrected please let me know :)*

See you guys at the next update 🫶

[gadriezmannsgirl]

Hello 🎶 it's meeeeee 🎼

Buenas, beautiful lady. I want to request something to youuuu (obvio cause I'm in your inbox 😂)

Can you do something inspired on the new smw photoshoot Pedri did 😩🔥🩷 pretty please! Do what you want, go crazy on me 😀❤️

Señorita, you're always bienvenida in my inbox💜✨ Pedri will make me go crazy😭😭 he's so gorgeous I can't even explain how beautiful that man is, dear lord😭!

Warnings: mentions of sexy times, nothing graphic it's safe for everyone to read, Pedri being a lil confident ass, reader being head over heels for Pedri. This probably doesn't make any sense💀😭 and sorry in advance if it doesn't, it's been a while since I've written something😭

Tease -P.G8

Summary: He said he wasn't feeling confident about the shoot, the results show the opposite.

"C'mon, amor. You'll look great even if you're wearing a trash suit!"

"You say that because you're my girlfriend"

"No, I say that because I'm a woman with two eyes who know how to appreciate beauty and you, mi amor, have lots of it" Pedri rolled his eyes as you shook your head and fixed the collar of the beige suit.

"I suddenly don't want to do this" He sighs "I enjoy being more in a sweatshirt and joggers"

"I know you do and you will be in sweatshirts and joggers once again when this shoot it's done, it'll be quick"

"Not quick enough"

"What will you do when you're getting your wedding suit done?"

"Wait for you to get your wedding dress done so we can marry?" You smile at him.

"Well played" He laughed softly "But let me tell you that I actually enjoy seeing you in suits, it's not often I get to see you like that, you look incredibly handsome and more mature, like a CEO... and it makes me wanna jump all over you" You state wrapping your arms around his neck, a smirk came up to your boyfriend's face and he wrapped his arms around you.

"I don't need to be in suits for you to do that" You blush and laugh.

"True. You breathe and I'm all crazy for you, González" He laughs pecking your lips a few times.

"C'mon, let's go"

"Thought you didn't wanted to do the photoshoot right away?"

"I want to get home, my girlfriend said she wants to jump all over me, I'm never passing up those chances" He winked at you while he left the room leaving you giggly and running behind him to catch him.

"Pedri, I'll need you to act confident, move around, own the shoot" The photographer said getting ready behind his camera

"I think I can do that"

"¿Qué crees? Venga mi amor, tú puedes. Vamos, con confianza" (You think? C'mon, mi amor, you can. C'mon, confidence)

And with confidence he did it. It was only a few days later when you found yourself screaming all over your house after seeing his latest IG post.

"¿Qué pasa, preciosa? ¿Todo bien? ¿Por qué el grito?" (What's wrong, precious? Is everything okay? Why the scream?)

"¿Eres tonto?" (Are you stupid?)

"¿Disculpa?" (Excuse me?)

"¿Cómo te atreves a subir fotos de ese estilo sin avisarme?" (How dare you upload photos like that without telling me?) You looked at him in disbelief "Don't you think my ovaries will explode after watching this?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Can we have your tux for our wedding done in this color? You look absolutely gorgeous-ah! oh dear god! your hair, your face, your eyes, your eyebrows... your hands! I never knew your wrist would look so good with a simple watch!"

"Y/N, can you calm down and explain to me what is going on?"

"How do you want me to calm down with you dropping these pictures?" You show your phone screen for the first time to him "I really want to have your babies, right now, Pedro González López"

Reality hit him and he started laughing. You. His girlfriend were fangirling over him.

"We can practice for them"

"How do you look so beautiful every day, every time, every second? Like... You don't get tired of it? Amor, I don't really understand what were you nervous about! I'm so lucky to have you as my boyfriend, I get to have you, all of you! ¡Dude, buah!" You let go of your phone letting it fall on the carpet still looking at Pedri "You're so pretty, I love you so much"

Pedri was blushing and his giggles were the only thing you were hearing "I love you too" He said wrapping his arms around you

"How can you be so hot and so cute at the same time?" You asked with a smile on "It's not possible"

"Welcome to the club, I have to deal every day with you being cute and sexy at the same time" You kissed his lips.

He was perfect.

"You knew what you were doing, right?" You asked after a bit of silence.

"I mean... I didn't know it would have this effect on you but I definitely need to keep doing photoshoots in suits"

"You little bastard-"

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Taglist: @gaviymarcsbride @stuckinaf4nfiction @elijahslover @azzpenswrld @http-isabela

[valkyrieromanoff]

IMAGINE PEDRO PASCAL X ACTRESS!READER

Summary: You and Pedro answer some internet questions.

Warnings: Implied romance, friendship,fluffy

I was up at the crack of dawn watching The Graham Norton Show due to my unhinged obsession with Pedro Pascal. That's where my hypothesis about Helen Mirren became more credible. I really hope you enjoy it, though.

"Hello, I am Pedro Pascal." He introduced himself, waiting for you to do the same. "And my name is Y/N, and today we are going to answer some questions from the Internet." You said as Pedro shook the jar with the questions written on small pieces of paper."Let's see what the first question will be." He said, turning the jar over so that you could pick one up. "What was the last song you listened to?" He leaned over to your side, reading over your shoulder. "Do you remember?"

"Let's dance by Bowie. I listened to it in the car when I was coming here." You said, leaving the paper on the table. "Whenever I'm feeling down, I put this song on, and everything is better. What about you?"

Pedro paused to think, looking distractedly to the side. "Someone sent me this video with the song Hey sexy lady and this has been on my mind since then."

"I think I know which video you are talking about." You laughed, raising an eyebrow. He chuckled and laid his head on your shoulder. "Well, next question. Are you good with accents?"

"Are you?" Pedro asked, as you shook your head negatively. "Come on, it shouldn't be that bad."

"The best I can do is a terrible British accent." And I'm not being modest; it's truly terrible." You rectified it, laughing. "But you, on the other hand, are good at it."

"I try; I've done a few different accents." Pedro said, moving his shoulders as if to ask something. "This is the way." He said it in his SNL Valley Girl accent.

You smiled as you shook the pot and motioned for him to take the next question.

"Recommend a book." He read, then tossed the paper aside. "I think I've mentioned this book before, but Gabriel Garcia Marquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude is a landmark in Latin American literature and well worth the read. Besides dealing playfully with social and economic problems, it talks about family, friendship, and love."

"That sounds interesting." You commented. "I would recommend Normal People by Sally Rooney. It's a great book, which in addition to telling the story of Marianne and Connel, deals with topics such as mental health, social classes and makes us reflect on how we impact people's lives and how they impact us."

"Nice." Pedro agreed, waiting for you to take a question.

"What is your celebrity crush?" You asked, and you can't deny that you were curious to know his answer.

"Tough question, there are so many people I admire." He began, adjusting his glasses. "However, if I had to pick one, it would be Helen Mirren since Excalibur. Oh Morgana Le Fay has awakened something in me.""She's wonderful." You agreed, taking a moment to decide. "My celebrity crush is Tessa Thompson; that woman is amazing. She could punch me in the face and I'd thank her for it." "Whoa!" Pedro muttered in surprise. "I don't even know what to say." He joked as you pushed him lightly to the side.

"We only have two more." You commented, looking through the last few papers. "Let's see what the question is." You said, unfolding the paper. "Were you a good student? Were you Pedro?""I was a student." Pedro paused. "Maybe I got into some trouble." He joked, holding your arm as he laughed, "But they were always normal things, like skipping class or forgetting to do an assignment.""I guess I was a good student; I got good grades; I was a little nerdy; and I never got into any trouble." You spoke, throwing a lock of hair back."So, you were a good girl?" Pedro asked and you bit your lip."You could say that." You mumbled, holding the jar for him to pick up the last paper.

"What's the one thing you wish you could tell your younger self?" He read, looking thoughtful for a moment. "I would say that everything would eventually work out and that some things tend to take longer to happen. And to never, no matter what, stop being who you are."

You smiled, gently touching his shoulder. Pedro stared at your face and returned the smile.

"I'd tell her to not be so hard on herself and to try to enjoy the moments without worrying so much about the things she can't control." You said sincerely. "Well, it looks like the questions are over."

"It was a lot of fun answering them; I hope you guys enjoyed it as much as we did." Pedro spoke, smiling. "Until next time." He said, and made the peace sign with his fingers.

"Bye." You spoke, waving to the camera.

[talaok]

Heyy, first, I'd like to say that I really love your writing, keep it up!

And I'd like to make a request, I know we all went crazy over Pedro on SNL (he looked so handsome!!!), and I would love to read a Pedro x Reader behind the scenes of the show, her watching, supporting, and being proud of Pedro, and then the two of them going out together to the SNL after party, dancing, kissing, enjoying each other's company, very fluffy, and a bit of smut at the end?

Pairing: Pedro pascal x f!reader

warnings: very very faint allusion to smut

a/n: he did look handsome and thank you so much love <3 (and yes this ask skipped the line bc as always it wouldn't have made sense for me to post it in two weeks)

It was incredible how nervous he was. He'd done this already, and yet he was acting like a kid like at his first recital.

"you're gonna do amazing baby" you promised, standing on your toes to kiss his cheek "Now go out there and have fun"

His eyes anxiously danced around your face

"my heart's beating so fast" he huffed a laugh

"I know" you smiled, stoking his cheek "but remember, you have nothing to be scared of, you've done this already, and you were amazing at it, so just relax"

"ok" he took a breathy sigh "yeah, you're right. I can do this"

"that's it" you grinned, but before you could say anything more he was kissing you like it was the last time he ever could.

"Pedro?" his assistant's voice brought you back to reality "It's time"

You smiled as he leaned away.

"I love you" he promised, the honesty of that statement shining through his eyes

"I love you too baby" you murmured "Now go!" you said, giving him a playful push "Break a leg!"

__ __ __

As you already knew, everything went perfectly smoothly, he and Bad Bunny were an amazing duo, and you could just see how well they got on even with the cameras off.

The monologue was perfect, and you didn't miss any opportunity to cheer and laugh every time you could, but as much as you'd loved it... nothing could top the Ms. Flores sketch.

You loved it last time, and you loved it this time too.

Even just seeing him in the costume made you laugh (you had filled your camera roll with photos of him) but then combined with the actual sketch... it was just perfection.

You almost didn't want him to change, you kind of liked the constant teasing of calling him mama and telling him just how sexy he was, but unfortunately, he did change.

Imagine what a look that must have been for the afterparty instead of that old shirt he wore everywhere.

But then again, considering how much he was sweating from the dancing maybe it was a good call.

"thank you for tonight" he spoke over the music, as the song changed to a slower one "I couldn't have done it without you sweetheart"

"oh stop" you rolled your eyes, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck as you swayed to the music "You would have been amazing regardless." you smiled "I'm surprised they haven't offered you a role as a permanent part of the cast yet"

"No I'm serious" he laughed softly "I don't know if I would have gotten on that stage without you"

"baby..." you cooed, touched by his words "I love you. I'm always gonna be there for you"

"and me for you" he murmured, before kissing you.

You could only vaguely feel everyone around you and hear the music, it was just you and him.

He always made you feel like that.

"I've just realized I was so anxious for tonight that I haven't told you how beautiful you look yet," he said, making you blush faintly.

"You look beautiful too" you murmured, a mischievous smirk pulling at your lips "Not as much as you did when you were dressed as Ms. Flores, but you're not so bad"

He couldn't help but laugh at that

"You'll never let that go, will you?"

"nope" you chuckled, earning another kiss, this time deeper and much... hungrier.

You whimpered into his mouth as his hand on your back started traveling dangerously low.

"baby-"

"you're gorgeous sugar"

you bit down a grin at that

"I know that look"

"what look" he silenced you with another kiss "I'm not doing anything" he breathed, his lips now on your neck

And as much as you weren't completely conscious of everyone around you, a part of your brain still was.

"I think it's time we go home baby" you whispered

"yeah" he nodded, meeting his lips with yours again "Yeah I think it is"

[creedslove]

POOL PARTY ☀️

Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Summary: Even though you're sick, you still went to Pedro's pool party - which you discovered was made only for you, you don't feel well, but you can't disappoint him by not taking a swim with him

Warnings: fluff with no plot, just fluff, a teeny tiny bit of angst and sexual tension, but again, fluff

A/N: this is silly and lame and definitely not the kind of story I usually love writing but I am sick and I need comfort so someone bring me pedro pascal over here so I can hug the hell outta him and tell him how precious he really is

2.4k words

You spent the whole morning thinking of a way you could say no to Pedro.

From the moment you woke up and felt your throat itchy at first, only to feel it burning and finally going completely sore in the symptoms of inflammation you were already so used to, to the sneezes that annoyed you every couple of minutes and the overall feeling you had just been hit by a truck made it pretty clear it was not the ideal day for a pool party.

You cursed yourself, the weather, your life, everything. Out of all the days in your life, why did you have to get sick exactly the day Pedro had invited you - and begged you to show up to a pool party?

You and Pedro were… complicated.

You were friends, like, real good friends at first. And then you became a couple, but you two decided being a couple wouldn't work. You hated the exposure he had, it wasn't his fault of course, but it baffled you how he handled going out for a coffee, for lunch, or simply walking down the street and being photographed and filmed all the time. You just didn't like the feeling you would have to watch your back every time so you could have a tiny bit of privacy. No holding hands, no kissing, just walking around like two acquaintances, either that or having your photo all over gossip websites, comments bombarding it all the time calling you and Pedro horrible things, fans claiming to being jealous and hating you for dating him, as he was supposed to be theirs and no one else's. It was too much.

On Pedro's part, it was hard to balance a relationship with his working schedule, he worked hard and that meant he was most of the time unavailable, unless you traveled with him to where he was shooting, which was impossible because you had your own life, your own job and as much as you would've become a trophy wife for him and only Pedro, you guys never got to this point.

The affection, the attraction and the spark was still there, so even after you broke up, you decided to be friends again.

But maybe, just maybe, you hugged too much, cuddled too much and kissed too much as friends.

And that was why most of his co-stars hated you.

Pedro always tried to be as discreet as possible, he never admitted bluntly though you never directly asked, you didn't have to, you knew him enough for that. He was a flirty little shit, he was handsome and sexy and they were always gorgeous. It was obvious he very often had affairs with them. And if he was in a near enough location and asked you to visit him, or if you bumped into each other at a restaurant or even if you went to a dinner party at his home and they happened to be there, they immediately hated you.

Not because of you though, you always acted nicely to anyone and it would be no exception to them, but you wouldn't kiss their ass just because they were famous either.

Of course you would keep your distance from Pedro if they were around. You wouldn't hug him as much or hold his hand but there was something there and neither of you could control it.

It was always exchanged glances, or inside jokes, it was obvious to everybody but the two of you, you were just two stubborn idiots in love.

You hadn't seen each other in over a month, he was all over the country working, shooting, attending events and you were on you well-deserved vacation, so when he finally went back home, he'd texted you about the pool party he was hosting.

Pedro knew you loved pool parties and you had spent countless hours swimming in his, so he was just so excited to have you over, he forgot to mention a small detail: you were his only guest.

You were also so eager to see him, you missed that man dearly and you thought he would be in Cannes enjoying the high life but when he told you he was back home you couldn't control your excitement. If it were up to you, you would've gone straight to his house or welcomed him at yours, it didn't matter, just to see each other. But the weekly appointments you had got the best of you and you forced yourself to wait for the weekend.

And then you woke up with a cold and you wanted to cry in frustration and sadness.

You could just not show up, but that was really not an option, and you could also tell him you were too sick to go, the only thing you'd have to face would be his puppy brown eyes looking at you as if you'd shattered his heart, and you didn't want that.

So you grabbed all the cold meds you had at home, took them in one dose, packed yourself a bag with your clothes and drove to his house. You figured Pedro would be distracted enough with his guests and he wouldn't mind if you just chilled on his couch, maybe watched something on TV and had some snacks before heading home, plus he would understand if you didn't dip yourself in the pool. Besides, if by any chance any co-star of his were there, he would probably pay much more attention to them in their tiny bikini than you anyways.

So when you arrived there and realized you were the only one, you thought you were too early or maybe you'd misread the invitation and screwed up the dates?

But there he was, Pedro in just his shorts and shirt, with a wide smile welcoming you to his place.

Your heart skipped a beat, he was so handsome and though he knew the effect he had on women - and men, and everybody really, you felt your heartache to know he didn't acknowledge how painfully handsome he was. He didn't see himself the way you did, and it was a shame because you saw him like the best thing that happened to you.

You couldn't help but smile back at him, grabbing your things and exiting the car.

He waited for you with his arms open, because Pedro didn't do formal greetings, he did hugs, and you loved it.

You flew to his arms and squealed as he wrapped his strong ones around your body, lifting you up softly and twirling you.

You giggled as he put you down and watched you. He really watched you. Taking his time observing you, as if you hadn't seen each other in years, when in reality it had been what? A month? Six weeks?

Still, you were so happy to be next to him you almost forgot about your cold. Almost, but eventually, you felt another sting on your throat and groaned frustrated, which made Pedro frown.

"I almost didn't make it, Pedro… I woke up like that" you said and pouted. He knew how much you hated getting sick. Not that anyone liked it, but you hated it, you often got so angry and cranky you couldn't even describe. You even avoided people when you were sick, as you didn't want to take down on them, but you could that to Pedro, you never avoided him and you were never rude to him.

He cupped his cheek and gave you such sweet lovely eyes.

"I'm so sorry to hear that, querida… you look a little pale, do you wanna lie down?" You chuckled how he offered you to lie down but didn't ask if you wanted to leave, because you knew there was no way he would let you leave.

You shook your head and entwined your fingers "it's alright, but I don't think I'll swim today" you smiled at him and looked around, looking for other cars, but there was only yours and Pedro's there. "Where's everybody?"

Pedro scratched the back of his neck and chuckled "well, you're the only one I invited…"

"Pedro, you do know the meaning of the word party, right? If it's just me, then why did you say there was a party?"

"Well, it is a party for my favorite girl…" he said adorably and you just couldn't resist him.

"Oh cariño" the nickname always brought a blush to his cheeks "if I weren't sick I would be kissing the shit outta you!" You laughed and walked inside with him.

Pedro's arm was tight wrapped around your waist as you eyed the pool and turned to him "you decorated the pool!!! You didn't have to do that!"

"Yes I did because it was supposed to be a pool party! I just didn't know you would be too sick to get inside" Pedro unconsciously stared at you with his puppy eyes and it made you feel guilty.

It was a very hot day, you were already sick, what could go wrong? It wouldn't get worse than that, would it?

So you sighed and smiled at him "fine, I guess I can't get sicker than this, so I'll get changed, will you wait for me to get inside?"

He nodded excitedly and grabbed himself a beer.

You ran to the bathroom, already familiar with his place and opened your bag, seeing the two options you brought: a bikini or a swimsuit. You went for the bikini, it usually made you shy to wear it among many people, but there was only you and Pedro there and well, since you'd seen each other naked many times, it wouldn't be a big deal.

You quickly changed and walked outside with your sunblock as Pedro had certainly forgotten his.

He was sat by the edge of the pool, feet dipped into water and wearing only his trunks.

You stood still and watched his body, he was looking so fine. He always did, but ever since he started the preparation for his new movie he got even more attractive.

You reminded yourself you were there to enjoy your friend's company and not lust after him.

You joined him and smiled "hey there handsome" you winked and coughed a little, feeling shy to be sick like that and got some sunblock on your hand, spreading it over his shoulder "you need to take care of your skin, handsome" you said sweetly and leaned in, which Pedro corresponded but frowned as you pecked his forehead instead.

He groaned softly and took some sunblock into his own hands and did the same on your back, mirroring your moves as you felt his big hands over your skin. And his hands were pretty big, almost as big as his…

You stopped yourself there and saw he was staring "maybe you should get this top off, you know, so you can get sunbathed properly" he suggested and you rolled your eyes.

Suddenly Pedro hugged you as tight as he could and threw himself into the water, dragging you with him as his weight caused you to fall.

He was so boyish you couldn't help yourself but laugh, seeing him swim towards you and wrap his arms again around your figure, pulling you closer.

Pedro was flirting with you as much as you flirted with him and though you shouldn't keep on doing that, you couldn't resist him. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your back to the edge of the pool so he could sustain your weight with no trouble. He laughed softly "I missed you a lot, princesa" he whispered and kissed your neck, making you groan, taking your hands to his cute wet hair and giggling.

"Fuck Pedro, don't tease me" you asked and saw him looking at you, he was admiring you and leaned towards you, but you quickly moved your head away, avoiding his lips and received disappointed eyes.

Your heart clenched, you didn't like seeing him like that, you would never refuse him, but you didn't want to kiss him, you were sick and he would get sick.

Pedro, on the other hand, felt disappointed. You'd been distant from him, you wouldn't kiss him and in his mind you had probably met someone better than him, even if your legs were wrapped around his body, sometimes it was so hard for him to believe you liked him.

His gripped around your body loosen and he sighed, letting go of you and looking down "sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable" he said in a low tone but your hands quickly held his head in place.

"No honey, it's just that I am sick, if you kiss me you'll get sick too, and it's gonna be a problem for you when you go to work again" you tried to reason him and saw how his eyes softened.

His hand cupped your cheek and he swam closer again, one arm around your waist and ready to kiss you…

When you started coughing and couldn't stop.

You quickly turned away, your body shook as you were positive you had a fever now. You thought you couldn't get worse than you already were, but guess what, you were wrong.

"Shit, baby girl, come here" Pedro said, as he had managed to get off the pool and held a towel, helping you climb up the steps and wrapped it around your body.

"You take a warm shower and you'll lie in bed, got it princesa?" You nodded, shivering and walked back to his room.

You didn't take long in the shower, though the warm water felt really good as it poured down your body.

You managed to put your clothes back on after drying yourself and smiled as Pedro waited for you.

He made sure to get you comfortable in your bed and joined you. His arms were wrapped around your body and no matter if you told him many times he should stay away so you'd get him sick, he still refused it.

He held you close and rubbed your back up and down, making sure you were covered and warm.

"I know you don't wanna kiss me, but I was wondering if we could maybe go on a date, like a proper one, what do you say?" He asked with a small blush spread across his cheeks and you couldn't believe how sweet Pedro was, and for a second, you wanted to be selfish and kiss him as deep as you could, even if it meant he'd get sick later.

So you did it.

If he got sick, you'd take care of him, like he was taking care of you.

_____

A/N: idk I am just sick and I want Pedro to take care of me 😭

[jobean12-blog]

Hot and Heavy

Pairing: Javier Peña x female reader

Word Count: 2.9K

Summary: Javi's working undercover at your favorite bar and he's too sexy to resist.

Author's Note: Just because this man drives me insane and I too would never be able to resist him. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: flirting, tension, fun, mention of drinks, a few curses, car sex

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

The worries of the day have faded with the setting sun and now, in this small, crowded, and loud bar, you meet the eyes of a man across the room. It’s hard to make out every feature in the dim lighting, but he’s tall and lean with dark hair that falls over his forehead and looks soft. His eyes are dark too but alight with mischief and he’s staring at you, smiling.

Another man stands next to him, talking and gesturing with his hands, but he doesn’t look away when you meet his gaze. If anything, his smile widens.

You can’t look away either and it’s disorienting but despite this you mouth the word “hi.” He says it back and tilts his head in recognition. A flutter of butterflies erupts in your stomach and the feeling is heady, and shit if his smile alone manages to do this, imagine what his…

Your friend, Jess, grabs your arm before you can finish the thought, startling you from your staring contest and into a crowd of bodies swaying and singing to the music.

When the night ends and you’re tired and hot you shuffle out of the bar, arm in arm, with Jess and a sudden wave of disappointment hits you. You never saw your mystery man again. Whether he left or got lost in the crowd you’ll never know, and you’re surprised at the feeling of loss.

As you walk toward the car you hear raised voices and without thinking you turn to peek around the side of the bar. Maybe you expect to see some drunk couple arguing or two friends still raucous after a night of partying. But you don’t expect to see him, the man from across the bar.

You don’t expect him to be leaning against a car, his long legs crossed at the ankles and his arms crossed over his chest. You don’t expect him to smile when he sees you. And you definitely don’t expect the smooth and sexy voice when he says, “I know you.”

“You don’t,” you answer, steadily but maybe a little breathless. Your face feels hot and your arms and legs prickle with goosebumps.

His smile grows and he steps toward you. He’s even better looking under the washed-out streetlights and the reality of him immediately fills your space the closer he comes. He’s all easy posture, eye contact and beaming smile as he playfully studies you.

“I do know you,” he says with the slight tilt of his head. “We met earlier. I just don’t know your name yet.”

You narrow your eyes. “You guys were being pretty loud. Everything ok?”

“I’m going to blame Steve here,” he says as he throws a thumb over his shoulder to point to the other man. “He’s always too loud.”

Steve scoffs from behind him and gives you a little wave.

“But thanks for your concern. We’re just fine,” he assures you.

You suddenly remember you’re now outside, under more lighting and you’re in full view, no longer hidden behind the bar and your dress now feels too tight and too short but the way his eyes only say, yes, and please, you’re sure he wants to see more.

“I wasn’t sure I would see you again.” His voice is deeper, gone gravelly. “I looked for you.”

“It’s so crowded in there I’m surprised we saw each other in the first place.”

His tongue slips out to wet his lips, and he watches your mouth. “Do you need a ride?”

With so many unspoken promises tucked into those few words you sway on your feet, but your answer remains firm. “I’m going home with my friend and even if I wanted to come with you, Jess would have your balls.”

He laughs. “I like you,” he says, his eyes pinning you in place.

“Have a good night,” you tell him before turning on your heels to walk back to Jess’ car.

“I’m Javi,” he calls from behind you.

You ignore him and keep walking.

“Wait!” he says. “I just want your name.”

You look back over your shoulder and he’s still smiling.

“Maybe we’ll see each other again. This is one of my favorite hang outs.”

He takes a step forward, his eyes following you. “Is that a date?”

“No.”

“And you really won’t give me your name?”

“Maybe next weekend.”

“Alright then angel,” he says, smirking when your lips part in surprise. “See you next weekend.”

Jess orders something greasy and delicious before taking a large sip of her drink.

“Should I get more food?” she asks, smiling over her glass.

“Probably,” you reply. “I’m starved.”

You’re about to grab the menu from under her hand but her expression morphs into one of shock. You barely have time to register it before feeling the heat of a body behind you. Large hands settle lightly on your waist only a second before a familiar voice whispers against your earlobe, “there you are.”

You let out a surprised squeak and turn, pressing your flattened palm to his very firm chest and giving him a light shove back.

Your body is like a live wire and when you lock eyes with Javi you see the same playful light in his gaze from last week.

“Too much?” he asks. “I was going for sexy but subtle.”

“I mean…” you start, but his friend, Steve, cuts you off.

“Crazy to think subtly is a necessity for his job sometimes.”

Javi ignores Steve’s snarky comment. “Steve, this is angel. I’m still waiting for her real name. She’ll have to give it up at some point.”

You introduce yourself and ignore his smooth innuendo. His eyes sweep down your face and stop at your lips. It’s the look he’d give you before he kisses you, but he’s too far away, until he isn’t, leaning forward.

“Nice to officially meet you Steve,” you say to break the tension.

You introduce Jess to both men before asking, “have you been waiting here for us?”

Javi shrugs with a smile. “Maybe.”

“We’ve been here since dinner,” Steve says from beside him, holding up his glass. “But it’s for work.”

“Oh right, your job,” you muse. “Subtly…what is it that you do?” you ask.

Steve and Javi exchange a look and your eyebrows raise.

“I’m a DEA agent,” Javi answers quietly.

Your eyebrows stay up at your hairline. “Should I be worried?”

“Nah angel, you’re safe with me,” he says smoothly.

“So, you weren’t hoping to find me here tonight?” you ask with feigned disappointment.

“Oh, I definitely was,” Javi says smoothly. “In fact. I was here last night and the night before…”

He leans in closer again and your breath hitches. “But not for work.”

You can’t help your triumphant smile, and you lower your lashes, mindlessly twirling your almost empty glass between your fingers.

“She’s way too beautiful for you,” Steve chimes in and Javi just throws him the middle finger.

“What are you drinking?” Javi asks you, his eyes intense.

You stare back and feel that same familiar pull from the other night. When you tell him your drink of choice he hails down the bartender and orders another before Steve catches him in a quiet conversation.

Jess pins you with a glare.

“I know,” she says before you can get a word out. “He’s so sexy…but is he…?”

“Married?” you finish for her with a smile.

She rolls her eyes. “No…he’s definitely not married. Is he dangerous?”

You purse your lips with a shake of your head and down the tiny bit of liquid you had left in your glass.

“Not in the way you’re worried about,” you tell her.

She blows a raspberry of exasperation and eyes Javi over your shoulder.

“I can just tell. He’s a cop for fucks sake!” you whisper shout.

Jess giggles and leans in closer to you. “A really hot one.”

When your drink is ready Javi slides it down the bar to you.

“I knew you’d be drinking something like this,” he says.

“Is reading people a necessity in your job?” You flutter your lashes and lift the drink to you lips, noting how his eyes track the movement.

“Sometimes,” he says with a wink. “But the moment I saw you I figured that would be your drink of choice.”

“Is that so?” you hum.

“Actually, I look at you and think…”

You place a finger over his lips and his eyes widen slightly. You keep it there, gauging his reaction and when he kisses it softly you giggle and pull away.

“I have no idea what to do with you,” you tell him honestly.

“I have plenty of suggestions angel.”

“I’m sure that you do.”

“Do you want to hear them?” he murmurs, smirk firmly in place.

With a deep and steadying breath, you ask, “how about you tell me more about you first?”

You listen to every word that moves past his pouty lips, never before having such an urge to touch someone else’s mouth with your fingers.

He asks you a question but you’re too busy staring, only pulled from your trance when Jess elbows you in your side.

“What?” you say breathless.

“I asked you a question angel,” Javi chuckles, noting your distraction.

“I told you my name, you don’t have to keep calling me that,” you tell him, still unsure what the question was.

“What if I want to?” Javi murmurs as he leans closer.

Jess catches you as you sway into her, smiling over your shoulder and speaking loud enough for both Steve and Javi to hear.

“We’re taking a bathroom break!”

She tugs you away even though your head is turned and your eyes stayed glued to Javi and the way he watches you until you disappear down the hallway.

“Steve’s really cute too you know,” you say to her once the bathroom door is shut.

“He is,” she says in a matter-of-fact manner. “But I’m not sleeping with him.”

When you don’t say anything she turns from the mirror.

“Are you going to go home with him?”

“I…” you start. “I’m just enjoying him for now. I don’t want to think too far ahead.”

Her expression softens and she gives your arm a squeeze. “I get it. Let’s just have fun…”

She leaves the end of her comment hanging and you finish it for her with a flourish.

“And be safe of course!”

You smile at her and then check yourself one last time before holding the door open.

Jess and Steve strike up an animated conversation when you return to the bar and as they fade into the background and head to the dart board, you and Javi are left alone together.

Javi listens intently to every word you say, his body leaning closer the more you talk and every so often you watch his eyes drop to your lips and you unconsciously trace them with your tongue.

At one point someone bumps you from behind and pushes you into him, your chest brushing his and his arms circling your waist to steady you.

“You ok angel?” he asks, his eyes soft. “I could arrest him.”

That makes you laugh and then you realize how close your faces are and how everything seems to slow down.

You let out a rush of air and grab for his hand, pulling him away from the bar and toward the door.

Once you’re outside you breathe in the fresh air and lean your back against the cool brick of the building.

“Are you sure you’re ok?” he asks again.

You nod and he places his hand against the wall beside your head. If he kisses you now it won’t be soon enough.

“Why did you pull me out here?” His question is quiet, his breath warm against your cheek when he dips his head to whisper it into your ear.

At your silence he continues.

“I’m asking too many questions…” he says.

“No,” you say quickly. “It’s not that. It’s not you.”

“So, it’s not that I just render you completely speechless?”

It’s exactly like that and you don’t know how to handle it. You’re inexplicably drawn to him. You want to leave your fingerprints all over his skin, kiss every inch of his neck and taste the drink on his tongue.

“Ask me again,” you say.

His brow furrows before he understands and asks, “why did you bring me out here angel?”

“Because I wanted you all to myself.”

His hand still rests above your head but the other toys with the strap of your dress, his finger sliding under the fabric to trace the curve of your shoulder.

“You can have me. I’m all yours.”

The hand at your shoulder drops to the hem of your dress and he drags his fingers across it, slipping them under just enough to graze the inside of your thigh.

He doesn’t move it any higher, holding your gaze and waiting for any indication that you don’t’ want this.

You finally lift your hands, trailing your fingers along his chest until you find the open buttons of his shirt. Your fingertips slide over his skin, and you drag them over his neck and into his hair, grabbing a fist full and tugging his mouth down to yours.

The deep groan he makes has you arching away from the wall and into his hold. He sucks at your lips, pulling them into his mouth before he slides his tongue between, tasting you. The kiss deepens and his rumbling moan is a tease.

When he pulls away he’s panting against your lips and his eyes are still closed. He kisses the corner of your mouth as he slowly opens them.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want,” he whispers.

You curl your arms around his neck and press yourself closer. “I want you.”

His murmured “fuck” is all you hear before he steps back and grabs your hand, walking you briskly toward his car. Nothing else registers as you follow him, your sole focus on his muscular back shifting underneath his shirt with every movement.

You squeeze his hand tightly and he walks faster.

“Is this an unmarked cop car?” you ask as he opens the back door.

“You bet it is angel. Get in.”

“Aren’t we breaking the law or something?” you ask with a giggle.

He gives you a lopsided smirk and winks as he helps you in. Before you can take another breath he slams the door shut and drags you over his lap to straddle him.

The position makes your dress ride high on your thighs, but still restricts some of your movement. With a whine of frustration, you shimmy in place, and he grabs your dress and yanks it up.

Your fingers reach down to his belt, and you fumble to get it open, palming his hardness until you free him. He’s silky, warm, and perfect and you lick your lips.

“Fuck angel don’t do that to me. I need to be inside you. You can have me in your mouth later.”

“Is that a promise?” you ask in a breathless whisper.

He grabs your hips and crashes his lips to yours, pulling you down and rocking you over him. You press yourself harder against him until he slips his hand between your legs and rips the material of your panties free.

You gasp but it turns into a lewd moan when slid yourself down onto his cock. You start to move, gripping the top of the seat and riding him. His large hands hold your waist, urging you to move faster and harder.

He releases one hand and tugs your dress down, exposing the swell of your breast where he sucks and licks your soft skin.

Then you hear the sound of voices, people laughing and joking, and it grows louder. Your movements slow and Javi tenses beneath you.

“The windows are tinted angel. No one can see you but me.”

You nod and begin moving faster.

“Don’t stop, you feel so fucking perfect,” he murmurs. “But I need you to be quiet.”

You pull your lip between your teeth as his fingertips skim over your collarbone and neck. He hesitates for only a moment before his big hand covers your mouth.

He kisses your neck, and his hips start to move with yours, pushing upward. You can feel his control slipping and just as you hear the voices fade and the start of a car you tighten around him, your orgasm moving through you with a muffled scream. He’s right there with you, his hand falling from your mouth when you collapse against him. His arms circle you and he holds you against his chest.

“Holy fuck,” he breathes out, moving his head so he can look you in the eyes.

You brush the dark and damp hair from his forehead. “Do you have handcuffs in here?”

He stirs, still inside you, and buries his face in your neck with a muffled curse.

“At least let me take you to dinner first?” he asks with soft kisses to your throat.

“A date?”

“Yeah, a date,” he whispers.

“Can we use the handcuffs after?” you ask with a sweet smile.

He takes your hand in his, brushing his lips over your knuckles before kissing your palm.

“Anything you want angel.”