#Pedro pascal fluff

[dilf-docs]

Darlin', Can I Be Your Favorite?

dbf!boxer pedro pascal x younger fem!reader

summary: it should be simple. helping your dad's best friend to train for his upcoming match in his hometown, chile. but turns out, world-renowned boxer the viper isn't just a menace in the ring.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (girthy), smut, p. in v., oral (m. receiving), rough sex, public sex, praise kink, humilliation kink, daddy kink (she's got daddy issues; idc if this is mischaracterizing you, you'll live), dom!pedro, use of pet names (doll/baby), some angst because that's my staple, idk shit about boxing my bad (i'm more of a ufc girlie kinda) so let's focus on the filth!!

word count: 5,874 words

side note: this very different albeit genius request got me a small hit tweet. song of choice for this piece i sped up because of my ovulation is favorite, by isabel larosa. there are several paragraphs in this that could be used against me and are proof i'm loosing my mind during this midterm/fertile week had to use a clint gif because freaky tales clint is so sexy might watch the movie on theatres with my legs open

You weren't new to this.

The small walls, dim light, the sweat, the blood... you were shoved into it. By your father, since you were a baby. Long before you could even walk, grabby hands trying to reach for a ring that seemed so far, the violence and the rage contained inside the quadrilateral.

So you grew up wanting it. The desire. The ichor. Rough and brutal.

You'd never step in, but always stood by your father's side. Until the age of boys, over-coated glossy lips and blooming girlhood arrived. Long gone where the days were you'd be next to your dad inside the dim-light place, now filled with car rides and girly laughter about all and nothing. You changed the sweat scent of the place for vainilla, and the oversized t-shirts for skirts that showed your laced panties if you bent.

The fights started then, but the ring became your home. Slut, he'd call you, saying this wasn't the girl he raised. Your mother would cry, tired of trying to stop the fighting that extended sometimes until late at dawn, when you'd show up on the doorstep, skirt torn apart and panties wet despite the dry summer.

The beast laid dormant inside you. That primal raw hunger; it never ceased to exist.

Now it was on your roaring voice, refusing to shut up and take the harsh language spoken by your own blood. It was on the defiance, cutting your clothes even smaller, pushing the wearable limit. On the way your makeup and manners got more scandalous, and how you'd throw your door louder each time another confrontation took place, the once lively home now a wrestle between two forces refusing to back down. But when you weren't with a bottle in your mouth or a guy in between your legs, you'd think of his hands grabbing yours as he showed you the gym around, introducing you to regulars. My little girl, he'd said proudly, and you would smile like he did. You'd grab the broken frame you once threw against the wall in a fit of rage, crimson imprinted over the photograph below the broken shards you tried to miserably put together again. Fucking failure. But it's impossible to piece what's already broken back together.

But you were still a believer, despite it all: the same girl who saw the magic in the beasts trapped within the cage, thunderous brutality in the place you once called your second home.

Maybe that's why you agreed to help your dad on this. To see a bit of that smile that had faded in time like the colors of the rust painted lockers. To hear a good girl praise. Not slut. To see a glimpse of the man who said he'd pass this place to you, useless now on his mouth as the gym crumbled just like your relationship. In the end, you were his daughter, begging to be seen.

And you were seen. Not by him. But by him.

The Viper. Pronounced in a whisper, because out loud sounded like a curse, bound to risk too much.

He had been a casual before, remembering his days when no facial hair adorned his face and he'd talk with your dad while laughing in a boasting sound, like he knew he'd break out in the scene. He did. And then he stopped coming, because he was too busy winning and living life than to return to a place that was falling apart.

But then your dad came rushing home, like he was to bear bad news. And boy, wasn't he? The leather, the greys now starting to take over his hair like the bad choices in the form of women and alcohol, ones that had once carried a bad boy charm which now had ripen into a sour taste, a lifestyle that belonged to the golden years left in a past long left behind. He didn't belong anymore, but refused to quit. The violence was a vice, and despite loosing everything, he had never lost a match.

"He wants to train" your dad panted out to your worried mother, who thought worst. "For a match, in Chile, his hometown. He talks about coming back"

Your dad may have been the first to know such, but not the last. No, because what started with a call late at night on your dad's old office (He had said Remember me, old friend? oscilating between nostalgia and teasing, and when your dad called his name, a soft incredulous Pedro? he had let out one of his victorious golden laughs, like coins falling down, as to let him know it was still him, despite it all), ended up on the news.

He's coming. He's coming. He's coming. Like a warning before the big bad wolf struck again.

In a way, you think, as he stands before you, he is one: the sharp eyes and bearing teeth. A fighter never backs down, and he seemed to be always in guard.

Hadn't recognized you at first, blinking a few times before a lazy and easy sleazy smile appeared on his face.

"This the same girl that asked me to carry her on my shoulders?" and a chuckle. "I think I still could"

A low, dangerous rich rumble. A dare. Challenging. Pedro didn't know you too had changed in many ways, and he certainly didn't know either you had touched yourself at night to the sound of his velvety voice, wrapping you up like the sweat that set your skin ablaze, a fist in your mouth to stop his name from slithering past your lips, image set on the way his eyes roamed over your woman body like an all too well trap he always falls in like a vice, trying to think if it was real or just another one of the troubles you loved to cause yourself.

But once you're deep, you can only go deeper.

Your dad left for Chile a day earlier, to set preparations you could care less, which is why you're here.

You promised not to fuck it up, seeing a peek of that man who swore to protect you from the cruel world outside. You needed this. Wanted this. When his lips parted but closed, many words hanging on the air coated with burnt cigars and sweat (I'm sorry. I'm proud of you. Don't dissapoint me. Don't break my heart. Don't fuck this up. I love you), you decided you'd do everything in your power to get your dad back.

The task was rather easy: help The Viper train before his big match in Chile.

Easy, if said man wasn't your dad's best friend, Pedro Pascal.

You feel like a voyeuristic freak watching from a corner as he pounds into the boxing bag repeatedly. Drops of salty sweat begin to run through his back, the white cloth now near transparent with how it sticks to his tan skin.

Pedro is big. All boxers were, seeing them coming and going from your dad's gym. But he was beefy. Not the slender and compact, but the huge thick type. The one were just his hands alone looked like he could snap your neck in two if he wanted.

You're supposed to be out there, helping him, but after your dirty little session two nights ago, and yesterday's dinner at your home, you're just not capable to meet him in the eye, despite promises to your dad and the fire to get his affection back.

(He had come over for dinner. Your mom made lasagna, your favorite dish of hers, but the plate went cold as you took in his words like an oil, spreading the grave tone that coated your panties like a second skin. You pressed your legs together, a shaky breath escaping past your treacherous lips when he said how much you'd grown, blaming the sauce when he licked his lips. Your parents stood up to collect the dishes, and then he leaned down and whispered: Ain't you become a doll?)

(It was nothing. It was just a man who knew your father and no better. But you didn't, either)

Last night, to erase the spell he seemed to have cast upon you, you went to one of your old friends while he beat himself up on the gym, where you were supposed to be. But when your orgasm washed over, you said his name instead; no cold shower could scrub away the humilliation.

(And the house still smelled like him. Bitter coffee, leather and sweat. It was salty and citric, up in your nostrils with an invasion that was, if not, fitting. You were obssesed, with the champion and the legend, and he was an old man looking for a fresh doe-eyed girl who could take it)

You gawk like a man would, but, how not? Dude too appeared to be hung. What is it they say about men with big noses, big hands and big thighs? Big. Big. Big. Fucking hell, you needed to be locked up.

"I know you're in there, baby" his voice cuts through the silence. It's night, and you should be locking up already, scarce customers long gone. "Was never good at hiding"

You emerge from the shadows, sporting only a small black short and a white tank top. He chuckles. With you, nothing is a coincidence.

"Some things never change"

He snickers, "but glad some do"

You breath in, getting closer to him. Again, his scent intrudes your senses, making you dizzy like a drug. Your circuits are busy, and his high.

"You were supposed to help me 'round here" he motions the place. But you're stuck on his hands, wrapped in tape. Those hands, brief peek of his tattoo hidden between the white. "What would your dad say, huh?"

His tone is devoid of malice and full of teasing, but your stomach churns.

"He'd say what he always says" he shots up an eyebrow, as if daring you to speak. "That I'm a fucking failure"

Pedro seems taken back by the sudden change in the atmosphere, nonetheless, still charged with unspoken uncertainty.

"Your dad?" like he couldn't connect the man he knew to the one he is now.

"How would you know?" comes out harsher than you intended, a shameful bitter taste in your mouth. "A lot has changed since you left"

A quiet rage settles in his eyes, the beast caged behind the enclosure begging to be let out.

"Why you throwing it on my face? I ain't your daddy"

It shouldn't hurt. This is ridiculous. But, hell, it does; you're nobody's daughter.

"Good you aren't my fucking daddy"

The silence washes over you at the same time the embarrassment does. You realize too late the words that left your mouth, and if you're quick to try to run, he's faster, your back pressed to the material of the hanging punching bag.

"Say it" he demands, "again"

Your face grows hotter by the minute. "I have no idea what you're talking about"

"First a terrible discreet and now a bad liar" his spit spurts in your face, each word with punctuation and a seethe. "Anything else?"

Yes. So much. You're drowning at this point, still not deciding if it's because of the smell his body is emanating or your heavy heart's fault. But he's the last person you'll tell all of this to.

"Not that it matters to you, anyway"

Yet, to an extent, it seems like he knows. As if he's able to see past the forced sweetness, the sarcasm and the layers of makeup and numbingly intoxicating vainilla. Pedro thinks at least he does.

So if you're on fire, he'll let you keep burning.

"I could be him, you know?" your ears start ringing at some point, and you're sure your heart stops. "I could be your daddy"

There's no going deeper than this.

"Thank God you aren't"

And it's like a slap to his face. The oh-mighty undisputed champion steps back. There is always a first, and maybe this is what loss feels like.

"Baby-"

Your ears keep on ringing as you move far from him, your heart dangerously close to leaping from your throat to the cold hard ground. Who does he think he is? He hasn't even been back for a day and has already found a way to break you from inside. To ruin you. As if he never left and has known every secret hidden between your ribs, his memory nestled since forever. But he's too picked apart your bones, in just a matter of seconds, biting down on the marrow of your deepest insecurities.

You hate him. You hate Pedro. You hope he looses, and you accept you've already lost your dad.

But then, as you realize your sat at the end of the gym, the worn out lockers on display, you have an idea.

With you, it was always about revenge, wasn't it?

The beast is awake, howling upon you. Ichor. Rage. This rotten girlhood that started with Malibu dreams and has ended on beds that reek of cheap whiskey and a quick fix in the name of forgetting.

"Pedro"

His head almost snaps looking in your direction. Not like he wanted to search for you to ask for your forgiveness. A match to mark his comeback and change his life will happen in just a couple of hours; he's got bigger problems than a girl who can't see things the way they are. He isn't an apostle of acceptance, but his wicked selfish nature finds pleasure in punishing you for his same sins.

But to play a game, you need two.

"In here" he answers, as if he hasn't moved since your little altercation.

"You need to shower" he catches in time the towel you throw at him. He chuckles dryly at your childish behavior. "You stink"

"You sure? 'Cause just a minute ago, it seemed you were into it" he's quick to quip, matching your energy.

That cocky motherfucker. So full of himself. You hate the sleazy smile of a winner. Does he think you're going down as easy as that?

Of course, you aren't blind. He's attractive, but is this worth it? You see his damp shirt and sweat drenched thighs. No. You look away, flustered.

"I think you need a break, old man. You're not who you used to be" you turn your back to him, so he doesn't see your red hot face, "seeing things that aren't real"

You start to walk to the changing room, and even if not spoken, there's an implication to follow you. So Pedro does, because it's night and Friday and he's got nowhere else to go.

He follows you into the locker room, but this isn't you.

Not the little girl who looked up to him like he could beat the whole world, hand in hand. Not the broken woman, who tried so hard to keep up a mask he could easily see through, maybe because it was akin to his own.

No. This is a fucking temptress. A siren call to drown.

"Sit"

He decided to be a boxer the day he knew he wasn't meant to be bent. The day he realized he hated being weak and wanted to always lead his own path. If it was through violence and punches, so be it.

But he's obeying your command, like a lap dog. If the change isn't noticeable enough, your wicked grin gives it away. He takes his place on the bench, sitting down with aching joints.

"What were you thinking?" you whisper.

A vein on his neck pops out aggressively at the remark.

"I can still handle it"

The way his voice drops to a lower octave, the scowl on his face prominent, like he's both offended and peaked in interest by your remark.

"Is that a challenge?" you tease, playfully. "I'm not your opponent, Pascal. Save it for tomorrow night"

Your fingers itch, and before you think about it twice, they're digging across the soft flesh of his broad back.

"What-"

You hush him almost instantly. "Let me"

You trace patters across the expanse of his hard planes, arousal pooling at the rough of his edges, the dry and scarred of his skin. It's also the sturdy built, what makes it harder to not... appreciate. You happen to be into appreciating the small things, that's all.

(But small, he definitely isn't)

"You're tired" you trace his worn muscles, lost in the way he seems to equally tense and relax under your fluttering touch. "Let me help you"

"What's this?" equally soft. A tattoo. But not the one's you've seen; you wonder if it is for your bad memory or because it's new. "Vae victis"

"Woe to the defeated" he's quick to answer. Taking your silence as a signal to continue, he adds. "It's a way to remember the ones I fight are people, not numbers"

If his voice carries a tinge of vulnerability, you must've imagined it.

"Never took you as the empath type" and your fingers leave his skin, as if it burns.

He lets out a soft humorless laugh.

"There's a lot you don't know about me, baby"

You don't let him have the last word, and to punctuate your final blow, you press a short kiss to the tattoo. He didn't see it coming-- your mint breath ghosting over his shoulder onto his face. Pedro forgets how to breath.

"I've always loved a good mystery"

Knockout.

He looks up from the bench, breathing still panting as he sees your retreating figure, until all that's left in the room is him and his worn-out body. Then, the soft pit-pat of the water hitting the tiles jolts him awake.

"It's ready" your voice says, but you're still there, and not back to the lockers.

Why were you preparing him a shower? It's not like he couldn't turn on the switch.

Pedro removes the towel from his neck and walks over to the showers, only to find you still there, white blouse as damp as his.

"What-"

"Get in"

He's about to repeat it, this time harsher and louder (Have you gone insane, woman?), but then your sweet persistent voice digs on his mulish character like a knife to a wound, and his reasoning has flown out of the window.

"You're gonna wet yourself" is all Pedro can manage to say.

The (possible) double meaning makes his belly rumble.

"I know" you repeat, answering for both. And then get inside.

The water starts to make your clothes hug your body, and he's lost in the curves of your ass and tits. Your muscles, while albeit not worked out, are both soft and strong, plush skin inviting for a bite. You've got both the firm and the soft that comes with age and womanhood, and his cock is itching to have his invite to your warm walls.

"What are you waiting for? Are you going to bath with clothes on?"

He rolls his eyes. "Look who's talking"

The cold water hits him when you too have taken off your clothes.

Couldn't get challenged because your too stubborn ass fell right into the bait.

His breath gets caught in his throat as your soapy hands explore his body. His adam's apple bobs as he gulps, enthralled by your firm yet gentle scrubbing, washing away remnants of sweat and dirt. All words are lost at the devotion, worship and reverance that seems to pour from your digits as you sweep his body.

"How?" your voice drowns out with the drops of water.

"Bad move" he whispers, seeing it across his arm. It's runs across almost all of his inner bicep, big. It didn't heal as good as he'd liked, but chicks seemed to dig it. "Had to go to the hospital"

You, however, seem more into the... understanding side of it. Not on the thrill and the danger, but on the damage that's healed in time but never left. More on the pain, and not the punch.

"And this?"

"Gloves"

"What?"

"Gloves" he repeats, still not that loud, as if he's ashamed. "They can create cuts when the skin is pulled during a strike"

"I don't get it"

And instead of mocking you, Pedro finds himself trying to explain it.

"It's because of the friction of the gloves against the skin" he sighs. "Was too dumb and too full of myself to understand it. Then it happened and I got this"

"What has changed?" you tease him, but it's as tender as a lingering touch. "Don't worry, Pedro. Everyone makes mistakes, even the greats"

It's a rather sweet moment, only broken by your teeth sinking into the scarred tissue, yet you're quick to soothe it with a wet kiss.

He groans, head falling back as your greedy little hands now slide through the hard of his chest, his nipples perked under the cold of the water and the warm of your touch; body electric.

"Fuck, baby. You're going to be the death of me" he groans, shivering at your insistence on making him break. "Keep tryin', but you won't make me beg, muñeca" (doll)

Still hellbent on denying you of himself, the hotheaded stubborn prideful bastard. Not even with your tits in the air, bare cunt aching.

"No?" you feign innocence, batting those wet eyelashes of yours. Then your lips find his scars, licking and pressing sweet warm kisses across the expanse of his chest and body, ending on the one across his face. For a moment, he falters at the intensity of your gaze, almost slipping on the tiles. "Still no?"

You fucking minx. "Fighters don't beg" he says, but every contact of your lips and tongue against his wet body send bolts of electricity to his aching semi-hard cock.

"But real men do"

Without further ado, you descend until your knees hit the tiles, water running through your legs like a river. You don't wait for an answer, all you need to know in his parted lips and his deep stare at you through dark hooded eyes.

A low, guttural moan tears from Pedro's throat as your tongue flicks a quick lick at his sensitive head. He's grabbing your hair with rough hands, tangling into your damp curls, his hips jerking involuntarily as your lips wrap around the tip, tongue swirling and teasing the most sensitive parts.

"Fuck" he groans, "aren't you trouble, doll? Really gonna make me beg for that release, ain't you? With that tongue of yours"

You give another proud lick at his throbbing angry red flesh, head already leaking with precum.

"What'd your daddy think about his daughter sucking his best friend's cock in the showers?"

You ignore him, too busy lost in the way his cock throbs and pulses in your mouth, his balls tightening with a pressure that built more each passing second.

"Not a talker, huh? Were that loud mouth of yours go?" he teases, his grip not faltering on your hair. "That's what y'r daddy said. Or maybe he was talking of another daughter. Not this little obedient slut who devours my cock like she's starved" his voice is strained. "Such a good girl, though, taking care of an old man like this. You like how it tastes?"

You pull out, making him groan.

"Why'd stop?" his voice is strained, rough with desire. His pupils are blown wide, circling with desbelief and something more primal. But he'll never say that, will he?

Too bad for him, you don't know when to shut up. Or quit.

"I want to hear you say it"

He chuckles darkly, his grip on your hair tighter now. "What'd say?"

"Me? Nothing" your lips part, words slurring before you think better. "You is I wanna hear"

"Fucking cunt" his eyes darken, "think you can tease me and get away with it? No, you'll be a good little cocksleeve and take it all"

You moan at his lewd words, thighs clasping together in search for some relief for the pressure building on your bare cunt.

"That's right, you dirty cocksucker. Look at you, thinking you can bend a fucking champion like me"

He knew his power over you. Frankly, he had to thank your old man for fucking you up so bad. Pedro loved how all your resolute seemed to vanish in the air, looking so eager and willing, desperate to please him. Be it for praise or for how much you wanted this like him, but it is this what makes him feel like a true winner.

"Don't you wanna suck this dick so bad?" his thumb tugs down your lip, "Be a good girl and I might give it to you"

Just like that, you're done.

"Please, I want to be a good girl. Use me, fuck me with your mouth"

He lets out a growl, voice low and rough. "Oh, t's alright, muñeca. I'll use this dirty little mouth of yours, all right" he fists your hair again, pulling you closer. "Gonna fuck you so good, you'll be feeling me all week: every time you taste, swallow and speak. Fill your dirty mouth so good with so much cum, you'll be tasting it for hours, for days, 'n for the rest of your fucking life"

Pedro thrusts his hips forward, pushing more and more of his thick, hard cock past your lips. He sets a steady pace, eyes locked on your face as he fucks your mouth with deep strokes.

"Just like that" he praises, breaths sharp as he looses himself in how his girth is nestled in your mouth. "Take it all, like a good little girl. So show me, baby, show me how much you love the taste of my cock. How much you need it-- crave it"

Your moan gets lost in your constricted throat, struggling to take him deeper, breathing and swallowing almost impossible with his girth taking up all of the space inside of your mouth. If Pedro felt like a king before, now he feels like a god.

"Such a perfect little cock sleeve for me to use, to fill, to fuck" he groans, his hips picking up speed, thrusts growing harder and more urgent.

His orgasm starts building, and he knows it by the way his balls tighten and his cock pulses inside the heat of your throat. Pedro knows he's close to coming, that he's seconds away from it.

Even if he's lost completely in the act, he's foremost a gentleman, but when he's about to pull out, your hands grip tightly to this thighs, and hold him in place as he tries to move. A rush of lust washes him over the cold water, a dark desire coursing through him at your pathetic display of eagerness and desperation.

"Fuck, baby" Pedro's voice reduced to a low, guttural rumble as he gazes down at you. You swear you can see a brief glint of admiration on his eyes. "You want my cum that badly, muñeca? Do you want to swallow it all down like a good little slut?"

He's rocking his hips forward, burying himself balls-deep in your warm throat, his swollen cock pulsing and throbbing against your tonsils as his orgasm crashes over him. Pedro throws his head back as so do his eyes, body shuddering and convulsing as thick ropes of hot cum shoot from his cock.

"You're doin' great, baby" he pants, his grip on your hair tight as he grounds his hips against your face, pushing himself deep into your mouth as he physically could. "Show me what a good little cumslut you are and don't waste a fuckin' drop. Swallow it all"

Aren't you perfect? Gulping and swallowing, trying your best good girl shtick as you take everything he has to give you, his musky sweat filled scent up your nostrils, despite the soap still covering some of his body.

"Fuck, y/n" he groans, body going limp. He falls back against one of the shower's walls, chest up and down with uneven breaths. "Greedy little girl with a greedy little throat"

He slowly pulls out of your mouth, his softening cock slipping from your lips.

"Get up, baby. Your father's bill will be brutal if we don't hurry up" he hauls you up and into his arms. "But truth is, I'ont give a fuck. I'm still thinking 'bout your lips 'round my cock"

Before you say anything, he's dragging your body again like you weight nothing, but this time, it's to crush his hot desperate mouth into yours with a rough kiss. Pedro can taste himself mixed with your sweet and drool. He groans at that, the sound painfully animal.

"Hey" he gently tugs you, a mannerism you would never associate with him. "Where you think you're going?"

You blink once. Twice. Then again, slower.

"What are you talking about?"

Your back meets the wall, Pedro brutally slamming your body until the tiles dig into your skin.

"Ow- wait" you hiss, "the fuck's gotten into you?"

"Think I'll let you go after this?" he growls. Then, chuckles, darkly so. "No, baby. I gotta try first" his fingers grab the supple skin of your ass until you feel them melt into it. He then spanks it, creating a weird sound with the combined water droplets. "Need to see if the pussy is as sweet as your mouth. So be a good girl and let me handle this, alright? As I said, I still can"

And for a reason, that feels like a threat.

His calloused digits venture dangerously close to your entrance, fingers going in. He coats it with your slick, making him laugh that laugh uniquely his.

"Fuck, muñeca. You're as wet as this shower head" Pedro presses himself into you, his cock touching your stomach. "Don't ever try to lie to me again, I ain't no fool"

Traitorous body. But his seething voice, the way his dominance slithers into jolts through your slick folds. You whine, pressing your tighs together. Pedro's quick to see this, and before you get to say anything else, he parts them roughly.

"I said I ain't no fool" he grunts while rubbing the tip of his cock over your folds, applying pressure on your clit. "Bad girl"

No warning, just his cock slipping past your wet dripping folds. Your hands fly to reach his neck for support.

"S'fucking grabby" he teases, slipping his pulsating dick between your folds once more, pressing and then pushing in slowly.

He swallows your whimper in a kiss, your poor pussy stretching to accommodate his thick girth. His big hands pull your body closer to his.

"But I'm the grabby one"

He growls. "Quit talking"

With one brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, balls pressed against the flesh of your ass. You grip his hair, chocolate curls tangled between your fingers. He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours. The pain carries waves of pleasure laced within, despite his aggressive thrusting and quick pace. You roll your hips upwards, eliciting a faint whimper out of your lips.

"No, doll" his fingers dig in your waist, a purple soon to follow. "You do what I say, clear?"

His cock grinds forward, stretching you out.

"Fuck-!" you choke out, "Pedro!"

He growls when he hears his name on your lips, an all consuming desire to make you his washing over him.

He then grabs you by your legs, hooking them around his waist.

You mewl out his name in a cry.

"See?" Pedro blurts out. "Told ya' I still had it on me, baby"

Your hands scramble to grab him by his shoulders, the pain and pleasure making your head spin. He can feel your tits jump with each bounce provoked by his thrusts, the rosy skin pressed against his chest.

"Gonna fill you up so bad, you won't ever doubt me again"

Pedro pulls back and uses his arms to push himself up and hover over you. He began to drive his hips faster, loud clapping noises mixing with the falling water.

"I'm- I'm gonna"

"Ask, baby. Remember what I told you?"

"Yes. Sorry, daddy" you whimper. "Please, let me-"

"Let you what?" Pedro chuckles.

"Cum. Let me cum. Please, daddy, please" the words slurred as you feel yourself on edge.

"Very well" grinning satisfied, "but don't you dare keep any of those pretty noises just for yourself"

A high-pitched wails falls past your lips as you throw your head and eyes back, your legs shaking.

"Pedro-!"

He grunts at the sensation of your juices on his cock, coating it. In the way your walls flutter around his length, pussy tight making him groan against your neck, where he has now buried his face.

"Stay there, baby. It's my turn" his hips snap and his thrusts turn sloppy. "Gonna paint all of your tight folds with my cum"

His grip tightens as he fucks himself silly into you, chasing his high.

"S'fucking tight" he groans loudly. "Such a good girl for me"

He comes undone, salty hot ropes of thick white cum spurting inside of you, his cock deeply nestled inside of your welcoming warm walls.

"Fuck. Need to fill you up, doll. Until you're so stuffed you can't move without making a mess"

The water keeps falling, as you whimper softly, burying your face in his neck. Pedro keeps rocking into you while riding his orgasm out, soft breathless groans leaving him. He places you down, some of his cum on your thighs. He uses his finger to push it all inside.

"We have been to wasteful to keep on being, right?" Pedro jokes before closing the valve.

"Be honest. You don't give a damn about the planet"

He lets out a hearty laugh.

"Guilty as charged"

There's some silence before he's helping you get back on your shorts.

(He smacks your ass, saying you did it on purpose. You agree. After all, he's quick to know when you lie)

"Good girl" he praises with a small kiss. "Did so well for me"

You kiss him back, fiercely, your mouth practically sucking his lips.

"For good luck, daddy"

Pedro chuckles at your antics. "You fucking minx"

He leaves you after that, going for his stuff. But you stand still in the middle, lost like a little deer. Your ragged breaths fill the room, and he feels a little guilty about having fucked his best friend's daughter on his gym before leaving first thing in the morning to his home country.

"C'mere" you turn your head. "What? C'mon, don't leave me hanging"

You carefully make way to where he is, back in the same bench.

"Sit" he orders.

Oh, the irony of it all.

Once you take place next to him, he makes sure to remove a strand of wet hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

"When I win, which I will" you chuckle at his ego, "I'll be sure to remember you, doll"

So when your dad sends you a video of Pedro's match in Chile a day later and The Viper winks to the camera, you like to think it's for you.

[itsaintmebabe]

when it matters most

summary: when y/n is gravely injured and brought back to town, joel must confront his feelings and the fear of losing her.

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

notes: something about hurt to comfort is just my fav

Jackson was quiet until the yelling started.

“Open the gate! Open the gate!”

Joel’s heart slammed against his ribs as the urgency in the voices hit him. The panic in them twisted something deep and cold inside him. He didn’t think — he just ran.

Since he and Ellie had arrived in Jackson, Joel and Y/N had been at odds. They clashed over everything — patrol schedules, supply counts, even the best way to fortify the gates. Their arguments were loud and frequent, and everyone in Jackson had learned to steer clear when the two of them were in the same room.

But when the other wasn’t looking, it was different.

Joel’s eyes would soften when he caught a glimpse of her laughing with the kids in town. Y/N’s gaze would linger when she thought he wasn’t paying attention, watching the way his shoulders slumped with exhaustion. Neither would admit it — not even to themselves.

One of their worst fights had happened just days before.

“You act like you’re the only one who’s ever lost someone, Joel!” Y/N’s voice cracked with the force of her anger. “You shut everyone out like it’s some kind of punishment!”

“You don’t know a damn thing about my losses,” Joel shot back, his face hard. “So don’t stand there and act like you understand!”

“I understand more than you think! But you’re too busy pushing everyone away to see it!”

“Maybe I push you away because you keep pushin’ in where you’re not wanted!” The words lashed out before he could stop them, and the second they did, he regretted them. But it was too late.

Y/N’s face fell, the fire in her eyes dimming. “You’re right,” she said quietly. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

But now — now she was stumbling toward Jackson, covered in blood.

Joel’s heart dropped.

Her steps were uneven, her body swaying like she could barely stay upright. Blood streaked her face, her jacket was soaked with it, and her arms hung limp at her sides. There was no horse. No patrol group. She was alone.

“Y/N!”

His voice cracked as he sprinted toward her.

Her eyes lifted when she heard him, and even through the exhaustion and pain, she tried to move faster. But she didn’t make it far. Her knees buckled, and Joel reached her just in time, catching her before she hit the ground.

“Joel…” her voice was weak, barely above a whisper.

“Shh, I got you,” he murmured, brushing her hair back from her face. “Stay with me, baby, just stay awake, alright? Keep your eyes on me.”

She was trembling violently, her skin far too cold, and without thinking, Joel shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around her. The fabric drowned her, but it was warm, and that was all that mattered. She curled into it instinctively, her fingers weakly grasping at it as if she could pull his warmth closer.

“Stay with me,” Joel pleaded again, his voice breaking. “Y/N, please.”

People rushed around them, calling for help, but Joel barely heard them. His world narrowed to the woman in his arms.

When they finally took her from him, Joel didn’t let go — he carried her himself, his arms tight around her, as if holding her close could keep her safe. She went still against his chest, and his heart pounded with fear.

The waiting was agony.

He stood outside the infirmary, his hands still stained with her blood — and the blood of others. It was impossible to tell which was hers, and the not knowing made his stomach twist. His fingers trembled as he stared down at them — the blood of the woman he cared about more than he could admit, and there hadn’t been a damn thing he could do to stop it.

Ellie found him pacing the hallway. “She’s tough,” she said quietly. “She’ll pull through.”

But Joel couldn’t shake the cold fear lodged in his chest.

It felt like forever before the door finally opened and Maria stepped out. “She’s stable,” she said, and Joel’s knees nearly buckled with relief.

When he finally saw her, she was pale and bandaged, but breathing. Alive.

Joel sat beside the bed, his rough hand brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “You scared the hell out of me,” he whispered. “I— I didn’t know if—” he swallowed hard. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, tired but focused on him. “Why… why are you here?” she asked softly.

“Because I care,” Joel said, his voice thick. “More than I ever wanted to admit. And I’m sorry, for every damn thing I said. For every time I pushed you away when all you ever did was try.”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “You… you pushed so hard, Joel. It hurt.”

“I know,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I know it did. And it was never because I didn’t care. It was because I cared too much. I was scared, Y/N. Scared of losin’ you before I even had you.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “You have me,” she whispered.

Joel let out a shaky breath, his forehead resting against hers. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “But I swear to you, I’m not pushin’ you away again.”

For the first time, her hand reached for his, their fingers tangling together. And when he climbed onto the bed beside her, she didn’t let go. She rested her head against his chest, and Joel pressed a gentle kiss to her hair.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he promised, his voice a soft vow.

And this time, she believed him.

[secondsistershelby3]

Pairings : Pedro Pascal x Fem!Reader

Summary : you and Pedro are in public, aware that the paparazzi were always lurking by now, but Pedro didn't care because the only thing he wanted was to be affectionate with his girlfriend

Warnings : Age difference, mention of addictions, just fluff

Note : inspired by the photos of Natalia Dyer and Charlie Heaton because yes, I needed this

the photos are these —>

You and Pedro had decided that evening to go out to eat, nothing too elegant, that evening you had decided to go to a pizzeria. You just wanted a quiet moment.

You had just paid for your dinner and as you left you held hands. "Do you want to do anything else before you go home honey?" Pedro stopped and turned to look at you on the sidewalk.

"I don't know.." you thought as you took a pack of cigarettes from the back pocket of your jeans "I didn't feel like doing much tonight" you put a cigarette to your mouth, took your lighter from your jacket pocket and lit it.

You had developed this addiction years ago, you were trying to quit but the fact that you don't smoke almost a pack every day is already something, it was Pedro who had insisted and you couldn't tell him anything because he had more than right.

Pedro put his arms around your waist and put his face on your neck, the smell of smoke didn't bother him and it certainly wouldn't stop him from being close to you You rested your head against his cheek as you blew the smoke out of your mouth. "Are you tired?" asked Pedro.

"nah, I'm just very lazy tonight" she gave a quick kiss on your neck and whispered "I'll give you some energy then" she grinned before suddenly picking you up bridal style.

You made a surprised noise as you smiled "Pedro!" you laughed as you quickly put them on him arms around his neck with the cigarette still in his fingers “they are watching us” you laughed as you put your head into his shoulder “let them look at my beautiful girlfriend” he laughed as he slowly approached yours face to give you a warm kiss

As he kissed you he could taste tobacco but he couldn't care less. Immersed in the moment, neither of you noticed a paparazzo who didn't hesitate to take photos of you from afar. The Internet would explode the next day.

Many had been complaining about your relationship for a long time given your age difference, while others supported you like never before and you were happy about it, you were happy to know that it wasn't a problem for other people.

“let's go home now” he smiled as he put you over his shoulder. Luckily you didn't have a skirt on that evening. The cigarette was out by now but you didn't worry about that.

You then felt Pedro put his hand on your butt. You whipped your head around to look at him with your mouth open and amused and then smiled as he leaned in for another kiss.

“I love you” he whispered as he walked with you on his shoulders

“i love you too pedro” you reached up to kiss him on the cheek

[sturniluvr]

your camera roll dating Pedro Pascal

[promisingyounglady]

accident. | JP x Reader

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Wife!Reader

SYNOPSIS: we all make accidents. javier forgetting to pick you up at the train station was an accident. you forgetting to bring an umbrella was an accident. throwing a knife at your husband? you’re going to have prove that one was an accident to him.

WC: 3.6k

WARNINGS: SMUT, angst, mentions of weapons and knives, reader throws a knife at javier *just read you’ll find out*, implied age gap, established relationship, javier is a bit older than reader, domestic au, slight dom!javi, mentions of food and cooking, profanity, bratty!reader, reader is mean but javier can be meaner, floor sex, creampie, unprotected sex, spanking, handcuffs, cum eating, brief oral (f recieving), slight non-con, rough sex, praise, degradation, post-sex sweetness, not proofread.

AUTHORS NOTE: obsessed and mentally ill. so here’s slightly dom!javi with a ton of angst

A headache ensues in Javier’s mind.

He tries to combat it with the clouds of smoke rising through the air, the comfortable scent of tobacco and cigarettes filling his nose as he takes a drag from the stick perched in between his blistered fingers, this inhale, longer than the last.

Today had been shit. It really had. All day he had been cooped up in the office with stacks of paperwork almost taller than himself, tossed onto him and Murphy's desk by the higher ups, a high demand for deadlines with their patience being low.

Javier had been sitting in his office for almost seven hours straight, looking at papers with tiny writing and filing reports with pen until sensitive pink blisters formed around a hand that should’ve been driving and carrying a gun today, out in the field on a mission another team had instead been tasked with.

He’s getting old for this stuff, and he knows its true when he feels a strain in his back from shifting in his seat.

Maybe that’s why they shoved the paperwork in the old man’s hands.

Javier leans forward, grabbing his almost empty pack of cigarettes from his desk, deciding a fourth one was necessary for tonight.

“Javier,” a voice calls for him, looking up when he sees the new secretary holding the phone facing her chest. “You’ve got a call”

“From who” he says gruffly, brows furrowed. He lights the cigarette with his lighter, tossing it onto his desk and taking another puff.

“It’s your wife,” The secretary states. “she’s asking what you want for dinner.”

Javier stops in the middle of flicking the ashes, letting the cigarette sit warm in his fingers when he turns his head so he could see her correctly.

Your sweet voice calls out through the receiver, a chill running down Javier's spine when he makes out that it really is you.

“Yeah, Sherry, it’s fine if he’s busy, just let him know I called. Tell him dinner’ll be late tonight, at around 10.” you piped up sweetly, saying goodbye to your husband's secretary before hanging up the call.

She leaves after telling him what he already heard, but Javier is quick to immediately put out the burning cigarette and quickly grab his coat, making his way out the office.

“Peña, Where are you going? We only got a few more stacks left” Murphy calls out, hair in a mess from the many stressful tugs and his own cigarette nestled in between his fingers.

“my wife.” Javier replies, suddenly not liking the bitter taste in his mouth.

“It’s raining outside, you’re gonna get drenched” the blonde tells him, shaking his head as he took a drag from his own cancer stick.

Javier stops in his tracks, looking outside the window to see his partner was right. It was pouring out there, hardly able to even make out the cars in the parking lot.

Him getting wet was the least of his worries. It was you, he was thinking of.

“Fucking hell.”

_

You set the receiver down on the living room table. The ticking of the clock resonating in the silent house before a sigh finally escaping your lips.

Droplets of rain water cloud your vision, cheeks pink from the cold as water dripped onto your wooden floorboards.

Fists clench and unclench around the handle of the umbrella given to you by an old lady at the train station.

“A girl like yourself shouldn’t be alone in the rain, mija” she insisted, letting you take her frilly umbrella as her son would pick her up shortly.

Javier was supposed to pick you up too.

But after forty minutes of standing out in the rainy weather under a flimsy roof as you waited for his truck to pick you up, you disappointedly caught a taxi and drove home by yourself

You were returning from your visit to your sick grandmother. You were her only granddaughter who she called the week prior, telling you how she missed you and wanted you to visit.

Javier insisted you went, not wanting to hold you back and assured he would come to pick you up at the station after the weekend spent with her.

What a fucking liar, you thought to yourself.

You quickly undressed your wet clothes, the outcome of having to have walked in rain to find an available taxi this evening.

You're curious to see the look on Javier’s face when you make him beg on his knees and ask for forgiveness. Maybe you wouldn’t even kiss him tonight, thinking in silence as you prepared for dinner.

You definitely weren’t trying to think about what an excellent opportunity this was to be a brat.

—

Javier parks into his quiet drive way exactly thirty minutes before 10. That’s thirty minutes of trying to get on your good graces and pray that he wouldn’t be sleeping outside tonight.

When he opens the door to the house, his heart beats fast. Prepared to see you ready to lash out at him, he’s instead surprised with the aromas of spices and your homemade cooking wafting to his nose, unconsciously realizing that he skipped lunch today from how caught up he was with work.

Picking up your wet jacket from the floor, Javier slots his keys and sunglasses in the bowl by the entrance, hanging his own jacket as well before he makes his way quietly to the glowing kitchen.

The stovepot is on a low boil, and he sees you in a long t-shirt, one that you made sure wasn’t his. Your hair is damp, probably from a shower as you swiftly work your hands away in prepping the vegetables.

Javier mumbles quietly in a gruff voice. “You, uh, left your coat on the floor.”

Thwack.

An aggressive chop at the carrots replaces your words, each cut piercing louder like a gunshot ringing in his ears.

“Hermosa, I am so sorry.“ Javier begins sighing because he knows he fucked up real bad this time.

Thwack. You moved onto the chicken meat.

“There’s no excuse baby, I wasn’t keeping track after being cooped up in the office today.” he sighs, brows furrowing as big brown eyes stared into your back.

Thwack. Thwack.

The DEA agent flinches at the sound of the raw chicken being butchered by your swift, angry hands. You’re not facing Javier directly and yet he can already see your glaring eyes. He sighs, not wanting to fight you. He tries to lighten the mood, voice soft as he comments.

“Qué te ha hecho ese pobre pollo”

You don’t reply, let alone acknowledge your husband, continuing to brutally dice the chicken on the cutting board before turning around to wash your hands.

Javier watches you swiftly work in your kitchen, feeling sorry as he still watches you prepare dinner for the two of you after such a long train ride.

He moves forward, rolling his sleeves as he tries to help you . “Querida, I’ll help with the pot-”

The clang of the knife hitting the cutting board echoes in the kitchen, finally looking up to face your husband. Javier leans back, resting against the kitchen counter, arms crossed and gun holsters unremoved after coming home.

You try to ignore how tired he genuinely looks, reminding yourself you were just the same when standing all alone for that one hour.

“Y’know what Javier?” You begin, eyes watering and nose twitching in anger. Javier stays silent, staring at you with sincerity.

“Fuck you” you spit, pointing an accusing finger at the man. “fuck you and your fucking DEA work, Javier”

“Mi-”

“I had to wait forty minutes outside in rainy weather, trying to see if every car passing by would be yours.” you said, voice breaking towards the end. You felt uncomfortable waiting by yourself.

Javier shuts his eyes, forehead wrinkling as he tries to calm you down. He draws your name out in a firm but gentle tone.

You ignore him, replacing his words with your attitude. “You always do this!” you exclaim, voice rising.

“Leaving your wife and family second while you think it’s cool to go and chase criminals while risking your goddamn life.” You mutter, glaring at your husband.

“I didn’t want to leave you at the station all alone, honey. I’ve been sitting at my desk since afternoon drowning in paperwork the higher-ups dumped on us” he presses, eyes sincere but patience wearing thin.

You scoff, shaking your head. “So even stupid paperwork makes you forget your wife.”

Javier pinches his nose bridge, his head pounding as he tries to communicate with you.

You go back to cutting your vegetables, mumbling under your breath. “Who the fuck in Bogotá is giving you credit for slaving away all day trying to catch Escobar, hm?”

The words pierce through Javier’s heart.

Your eyes light up in fake sarcasm. “Oh, I bet it’s the fact that you’re too busy being a fucking doormat to all the younger agents at work aren’t you? What, Murphy said he can’t do his share of the work so he gave you his leftovers?” You spit.

“Hey," Javier snapped, gruffly and darkly. He looked at you, eyes narrowed and dark. "Stop it. I've told you."

Anger gets the best of you as you turn to the cutting board. Grabbing the first thing you saw.

A carrot piece shoots in his way. Javier flinches, the food hitting his chest. Your husband stands there, stunned at his wife’s childish behavior.

“Go fuck yourself, Peña” you say menacingly.

“We don’t throw food in this house, mama” he barks, hands on the hips of his belt, gun and badge tucked in his back. He would never use them on you.

A celery stick slaps Javier in the face this time, making his patience hanging on by a thread even thinner.

Maybe he could whip out the handcuffs.

“Dont you fucking call me that!” you said spitefully, throwing anything and everything you could at the man who dodged your attacks.

“Querida!” Javier raises his voice at you, a growl in his words.

You felt the cold, hard material in your hands for a split second before you’re throwing it at him, almost wondering yourself why you were getting so angry at Javier.

You didn’t want to fight this bad, but at the same time you were sick of watching him work himself to death, forgetting about you. This wasn’t the first time he did something like this.

But you already crossed that line. You both stand in silence, holding your breath as you realized what you threw.

Now it was your turn to fuck things up.

Javier’s lip snarls and his mustache is in a scary frown when he shifts his head.

Only a few inches beside his face lands a dull potato knife, wedged in the kitchen cupboards above. It wouldn’t have worked on anything since it was unsharpened and unused, but the tremendous force you had thrown it with allowed it to have been lodged in the wood.

You gasp, hands flying to cover your mouth.

You both watch Javier slowly raise his hand, pulling the knife inches beside his head with ease before tossing it into the sink. The clatter of the metal blade hitting the sink rings in the kitchen. A swarm of guilt fills your chest as you stand still in fear.

��Javi… I-I’m so sorry” you say, heart beating against your chest, cautiously awaiting a reaction from him.

Javier dusts off the carrot peels on his shoulder, watching as his jaw tenses but shoulders relax.

“Come here.” he all but says quietly. You see Javier reaching for his back pocket, taking out his gun and badge and placing it on the counter.

That wasn’t what scared you.

What scared you was then seeing Javier pull out the silver handcuffs lodged in his back pocket. Your eyes widened at the sight of him playing around with them.

“Javi, I’ll go get the-“

“Come. Here.” Javier cuts you off, staring at you with dark eyes.

You swiftly shake your head, refusing to go. “It was an accident!” You exclaimed, dashing out the kitchen as you tried to escape Javier who was hot on your heels.

“Honey.” he says in a not so endearing way, a warning edge to his voice.

Tears littered your cheeks, knowing that you pushed Javier’s limits and that he would really punish you for how bratty you had been tonight.

You gasp, running up the stairs before strong arms encaged your frame, desperately trying to escape before shrieking in surprise as Javier hoisted you over his shoulder, a loud and painful smack being brought down to your ass by his strong hands. You grimaced, helplessly being brought to the kitchen in swift strides.

”It was an accident, I’m sorry, I was just so angry!” You wailed, groaning as your back hit the carpeted floors of your living room. Your vision was hazy, the dizziness getting to you as you saw Javier leave the room into the kitchen, and come back a few moments later. This time, he was unbuttoning his shirt, his forest of chest hair and strong muscles peeking through.

Javier took a deep breath, eying the way your t-shirt had hiked all the way up so your panties were showing. Your hair spread around your head like a halo, and he noticed how you clenched your thighs together in vulnerability.

“Some accidents need to be punished, baby” he muttered darkly.

You sobbed softly, nose red as you turned your head to the side, looking away from Javi’s menacing look. He didn’t mind, he knew once he was done messing with you, you would be clawing at his chest, begging him to fuck you properly while looking into his eyes. Javier leans down at your level, crawling on your body so he was on top and you were trapped on the bottom. He rips your t-shirt off of you, leaving you in your bare state with panties flimsy enough he could rip them with his teeth. Not today though, he had other things in mind.

He coos at your weak state, dropping his head so he could press a kiss to your sensitive neck, giving a small nip that made you yelp. Two large hands come to play with your nipples, pulling each one hard in between his fingers as you moaned hysterically.

“What did I say about being fucking mean?” He says roughly. He inhales your scent, smelling a sweet sense of fear.

“Carino,” a warm voice calls out, you can feel the grin spreading on Javier’s face. You cry in a mix of pain and pleasure when he flips you on your tummy, cheek pressing against the rough carpet material as Javier slots his hard member encased in his jeans, right by the curve of your ass.

“Answer me, mama”

A clinking of metal makes you cry out in protest. No, you wanted to say, feeling Javier cuff you behind your back like you were one of his petty drug thiefs. But a slap to your ass cheek makes you gasp, eyes shutting as Javier pulls your panties off.

”Being mean gets me punished” you responded softly, a pool of desire aching in your folds as you almost tutted your ass up to show him you were ready. “I’m sorry, Javier” you sniffled quietly, hoping he would hear.

Javier laughs, cocking his head to the side as one hand groped the flesh of your bum, and the other undid his belt buckle. The sound makes your mouth water, wondering if he’ll let you suck him off too for forgiveness.

“So you do know how to be nice?” He groans, giving you no time before his hard members penetrates your entrance, head turning back and eyes rolling when you clenched around his dick so well. “Javier!” You screamed, eyes rolling back in pleasure from the strong stretch.

Your arms ached, desperate for release so you could brace yourself against the floor for every hard thrust your husband would give you.

“Listen carefully, querida” he moans into your ear, humping you as you moaned loudly. “You’re gonna be a good girl and let me fill you up, alright?” When there was no answer, he slapped your cheek again, this time echoing throughout the living room and leaving a red splotch on your ass. “Answer me.” He growled, patience growing thin from your pathetic wailing.

You grit your teeth, hating the fact that you were supposed to be mad at Javier for forgetting about you, and yet here you were receiving back shots with a stinging red ass.

”Yes, Javier” you said back, feeling his girth stretch your walls.

”Good. And once I’m done fucking my pretty wife, you’re gonna suck me off like you mean it. That sounds good mi amor?”

You nodded in return, eyes shut and panting like a slut from the feeling of Javier slowing down his thrusts, deepening every stroke.

“Yes, Javier” you repeated.

He smiled, kissing your neck sweetly, contrasting his hip movements. “Thank you, mama” he replied, cherishing your sweet moans and gasps as he went at a deeper, harder pace.

It’s delirious, the whole situation. You feel as though you’re on cloud nine with the way Javier is so possessive of you, caging you like a butterfly in his garden with the apple of desire.

You felt sinful. You felt glorious. You needed his release to fill you up so badly.

“Javi…” you muttered, tits starting to get carpet burn from being fucked against the ground.

“I know mama, you’re doing so good for me. Taking your lesson so well” he groans, sweat beading at his forehead.

You were aching and begging for orgasm, but feeling Javier rut into you so passionately made it all worth it. It dissolved any anger, any resentment from earlier because you knew how good he could take care of you.

“You’re so fucking mean sometimes, you know that?” he tells you, brows furrowed and concentrated on fucking the daylights out of you. You could feel the handprints marking your hips, wondering how many of Javier’s marks would be on you tomorrow morning.

“I know” you sigh, feeling a slap come down on your ass as you groan louder.

“You’re so fucking stubborn sometimes, you know that too?” you pant, squirming under your cuffs. Javier shudders, your walls sucking him a little too well.

“I know.” He says back gruffly.

Javier feels the knot untying in his stomach, too late to tell you verbally as you felt his warm seed leak inside, cumming first.

“Merida”

You were also close, loving how despite already coming, Javier was fucking you so that you could cum too.

”I’m gonna” you pant, forgetting to finish your words as you felt hot liquid threatening to spill from every stroke he made in your hole.

Javier whispers, pressing ticklish kisses from his mustache to your bare shoulder. “Cum on my cock, baby, you know what to do” he muttered, both of you groaning loudly as both your releases became mixed inside you.

“Oh fuck, Javi!” you scream, hair a mess and pussy aching.

You feel dizzy, used but happy, shivering as a large sludge of your cum spills out and drips down your thigh to the carpet.

Javier is quick to lap you up with his tongue, slotting his face in your ass as he filthily cleans you up.

“Can you get these off me, please?” you ask him meekly, relishing the feeling of your sensitive wrists when they touch the cool air.

Your husband presses a kiss to each one, marking your ass and shoulders with playful hickeys and bruises.

You both catch your breath for a moment, Javier turning you over so you were facing the ceiling, your sensitive tits perking up.

It’s all so sudden but before you two realize it, you’re latching onto each other immediately, hungrily sharing a kiss as your arms wrap around his neck.

“Hermosa,” he tries to begin, before being shushed by you, pulling him back in to lovingly kiss your husband.

Sure, rough sex was great, but god did you love just kissing Javier absentmindedly. You had to touch each other, kiss each other, that was how you two made up.

“Lo siento, hermosa” he sighs, wanting to get lost in your embrace. You smile, knowing that Javier is sincere. “Me too.” You reply, voices hushed as it was now later in the night, the neighbors probably aware of what had happened next door. A moment passes.

“Didn’t you say you wanted me to suck you off?” you asked innocently, gazing up at Javier as your head rested on his chest.

He grins, softly whispering a later as he played with your hair, cock soft against his thigh as your leg nudges it playfully.

He growls, nipping your ear. “Behave” he says firmly, cheeks rosy. This time you listen.

“Who picked you up today then if I didn’t come?” Javi asks, reaching over to wrap a blanket around you two near the fireplace.

You smile, knowing that you can’t always listen to Javier’s warnings. “Just some cute young taxi driver. Asked me for my number y’know” you grinned.

Javier looks down, eyes darkening as he mutters softly. “Unless you’re gonna be a brat again, you better watch yourself” he reaches for your mound, cupping you softly so you moan in pleasure, still sensitive from the previous activities. He hoists you above his stomach, feeling your nails scratch his pudge and bend down as you give him a kiss. “I’m just messing with you” you giggle, a familiar feeling coming back when his bare cock is nestled by your thighs. “He was old. A grandpapi” you said, feeling his hands roam the flesh of your ass.

You press a hand against Javier’s chest, giggling as you peck his jawline. He rolls his eyes, hands wrapping around your waist instinctively.

“I missed you.” he mutters, feeling you up.

You smile, remembering how warm it is on top of your husband before you shut your eyes softly.“Me too.”

You look up, apologizing to him. “Sorry for almost stabbing you with that knife”

You feel the vibrations and sounds of a loud chuckle, Javier holding on to you. “It was an accident” you mumble, circling shapes on his skin. He knows.

You make up for it by leaning in, pressing kisses under the shell of his ear. Whispering how you’ll let him stuff his cock in your mouth again to get even.

Fuck it, he thinks. He’d let you kill him anyday.

[paulyenvol6]

Yours To Keep

This is just full of fluff and cuteness and Pedro and reader being all over each other which I hope you enjoy!!

Pedro takes you with him for the 50th anniversary of SNL and shows off your engagement to the entire world.

Contains: smut, oral (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, soft and very slight dom Pedro, aftercare, tooth-rotting and domestic fluff, Pedro being the sweetest human on earth, established relationship, mentions of marriage and engagement

Masterlist

Wordcount: ~8.60k

"You look nice."

You smiled and chuckled squeezing Pedro's hand twice before kissing his cheek.

"Thank you. So do you."

You slightly crouched against his shoulder burying your face in his jacket that smelled a little different but you were still able to make out his familiar scent.

"Are you nervous, honey?" he instantly asked sensing how you absolutely couldn't sit still in the car seat and wrapped his arm around you.

"A little…," you said but it sounded like a question. "Don't be."

"That's easy to say," you pouted poking him in the side.

"It's just a concert and we're guests. Nothing's gonna happen, we'll just be in the audience and have a good time."

His words gave you comfort but when your gaze dropped to your hand the nervous fluttering in your stomach returned.

"But… I mean they will notice this, right?"

Pedro grabbed your hand determinedly and pressed kisses to one finger after the other starting at your little finger and giving a special amount of attention to your ring finger that wore a breathtakingly beautiful silver ring that was both glamourus and elegant. Your engagement ring.

"They might. But there's no need to worry about it. I love you and I'm ready to share it with the world. What could possibly go wrong, mhm?"

You had turned away from him but Pedro gently took hold of the side of your face capturing your attention.

"I don't know. I really don't, I guess it's just general anxiety."

He smiled softly pulling you closer to him to kiss your forehead.

"Oh baby," he whispered so quietly that no one in the car except you could possibly hear these words. "You know I got you, right? I won't leave your side for a second. Except maybe when you go to the bathroom but if you want to I'll wait right by the door and I'm not even kidding, okay?"

You couldn't help but scoff and in a matter of seconds you gave him a genuine smile. That was the thing about Pedro Pascal. He never failed to make you laugh and brighten your mood. He was your safe space, your comfort person and when his thumb brushed over the back of your slightly shaking hand you actually believed him. He was all that mattered after all. And now the two of you were engaged and why shouldn't the world know it as well?

"I love you," you whispered and then leaned in for a kiss on his mouth.

"I love you too, y/n. And I promise you we'll have a good time tonight. If you're not gonna enjoy the concert I'll make your night good afterwards."

His crooked smirk indicated what he was alluding to and you felt the blood rushing in your cheeks.

"Pedro…," you whispered fearing that the driver might have heard him but as if he didn't have a care in the world he kissed you right next to your ear which made you giggle and feel like a teenager on her first date of her life.

"I'll make it up to you if you have a really bad time. But… actually I think I'm also gonna make it up to you if you have a semi good time. And maybe, just maybe also if you're gonna have a good time."

His hand was definitely resting too high on your thigh now and you shifted in your seat.

"Pedro. I don't think this is helping right now," you complained with a smile that gave your true feelings away.

Before he could answer you the car stopped and suddenly your heart pounded loudly in your chest again although Pedro had just been able to calm you. He immediately noticed the way you tensed and tightly gripped your hand.

"It's fine. It's gonna be fine, baby. It's just you and me and a bunch of other people."

You bit your lip raising your hand like you were going to punch him but then ran it over his arm instead.

"Shut up. Oh and by the way, I swear to god if you're gonna get drunk tonight and embarrass us both AND basically leave me alone I'm gonna be so angry."

You started to climb out of the car and heard him following close behind.

"Don't worry, honey. You know what they say about alcohol and erectile dysfunction…"

Now you couldn't help but smirk back at him while you adjusted your dress and he straightened up next to you.

"Have I told you already how pretty you look?" he asked while placing his arm around your waist.

"Yes. But it's nice to hear it again."

~~~~~~~~~~

Everything happened very fast.

You were confronted with what seemed like a thousand cameras taking pictures of Pedro and you all at once and now it was obvious that the little secret the two of you had been carrying around for the last two months was out. Someone would surely notice the identical rings on both his and your left hand and one didn't have to be a genius to connect the dots. But who cared? Pedro was right, the love between the two of you was the most important thing and you wouldn't hide it anymore.

Once at the door, it was a matter of seconds before you were waved in, then you handed over your jackets at the cloakroom and were then led into the avenue by a woman in a black dress.

"There is food and drinks outside if you leave the hall through the main door. I will lead you to your seats now and then you'll have about… 30 more minutes until the show starts."

Pedro nodded friendly and squeezed your hand every now and then until you arrived at your seats in the second row.

"Wow, these are really good seats," it broke out of you and the woman gave you a wide smile.

"I should hope so. Now, I'm in a real hurry but I wish the two of you a lovely night and… congratulations."

She winked mischievously and at first you were too stunned to speak let alone thank her and only when she was already gone you stared at Pedro.

"Did you hear that?"

He nodded and opened the buttons of his jacket. "Very good eyes."

Then the two of you sat down admiring and examining the concert hall while also taking a look at the celebrities that were already there. Of course you spotted a lot of familiar faces like Paul Rudd and Anya Taylor-Joy so the next minutes were filled with chatter and laughter and you had to admit that you were having a very good time.

You especially enjoyed going crazy about Meryl Streep who had been an inspiration to you for so long. And your boyfriend, no, your fiancée would be doing a skit with her on Sunday. You really couldn't have been more proud of Pedro and didn't move an inch away from him the whole time no matter how clingly or ridiculous the two of you might look.

Pedro didn't seem to mind at all which didn't surprise you as he was the touchiest person you had ever met. His love language was physical touch and he didn't waste an opportunity to rest his head on your shoulder or toy with your fingers, especially when he got excited or nervous.

When the concert was about to start the people began to find their seats and Pedro and you finally sat down again as well.

"How are you, baby?" he asked stroking your back with his left hand.

"I'm very good, Pedro. But I want you to have a good time now without worrying about me. I'm good, really. And I'm even better when you're enjoying yourself so please do that now."

He lifted the corner of his mouth leaning with his forehead against your arm for a brief moment before adjusting in his seat. "I will."

And as it turned out, he did exactly that. The show was opened by Jimmy Fallon and while your personal highlight was Arcade Fire's performance of 'Heroes' Pedro absolutely lost it during Robyn's and David Byrne's rendition of 'Dancing on my own'.

You could only giggle and feel the butterflies in your tummy going insane while watching him record the performance with so much devotion that he almost seemed to tear up. How could you possibly love this man next to you more?

Towards the end of the show the two of you stopped sitting down and instead gave yourself to the music moving and dancing as if you were the only two people in this room. Your heart skipped a beat when Pedro held your hand during 'This Must Be The Place' toying with your engagement ring all while giving you these chocolate brown eyes of his that never failed to take you out.

If happiness could be defined by a moment it would definitely be this one, you thought and when the concert was over you still felt like you were on a cloud.

Your head was buzzing and Pedro didn't exactly do anything to help you leave your high.

"THAT WAS FUCKING AWESOME," he screamed in your ear shaking your body by your arms.

"I KNOW," you answered equally excited and almost crushed under his weight when he threw himself in your arms. The two of you giggled and raved about the musical acts like teenage girls while leaving the building which turned out to take quite a long time as you were stopped by familiar faces every few seconds.

When you finally stepped out into the cold it was long past midnight and you greedily inhaled the fresh air feeling overwhelmed with the sudden silence. Well, it was still New York City and even at this time the air was filled with the sound of cars and chatter but your dizzy head seemed to finally get a moment of peace.

Pedro seemingly was swimming in his own thoughts as well, a dreamy wide smile on his face but his grip around your waist was firm. When the two of you entered the car, leaving the lights of the cameras of the papparazzi behind he clenched your hand.

"I fucking saw Robyn, y/n. And Nirvana. And Arcade Fire. What the fuck?"

You put your seatbelt on slowly feeling how your soul fully returned to your body and nestled up against Pedro's side.

"It was so amazing. I think I'm in love with St Vincent."

"That's okay but only because I think I'm in love with her too."

He held you the whole car ride back to your hotel. You exchanged a few words and expressions of excitement but the both of you seemed to be busy processing the concert at the same time. So a huge amount of the time you stared ahead of you replaying this incredibly evening and somehow trying to comprehend that it had actually happened.

Only when you arrived at the hotel did Pedro's attention shift again because while you walked through the lobby his hand on your hip traveled a little lower and you blushed nervously looking up to him.

"I tend to keep my promises, babygirl," he whispered against your hair and you cursed yourself for not even caring about the fact that someone could see you or even worse, take a picture of the two of you snuggled up like this. Instead your throbbing heat seemed to take control over your mind and your glossy eyes searched for his.

"I need you, baby," you said clenching his white shirt tightly to show him just how much.

"I know. And I'm gonna give you what you need. Trust me."

It wouldn't have been necessary for him to say this because obviously you knew what he was capable of making you feel. And yet his thoughts enhanced your desire for him even more and the last 20 meters to your hotel room felt like an eternity.

Once he had pulled you inside the room with him he quickly locked the door and then started to devour you like a wild animal. His lips were on yours, his hands all over your body and he was quick to press his knee between your legs knowing your body so damn well.

You wore a silk dress that revealed quite the amount of skin but of course it wasn't enough for Pedro so he slipped the straps of your dress over your shoulders pulling it down until your bare chest was revealed.

"You're telling me you didn't wear a fuckin' bra all night?" he growled against your forehead pressing you closer to the wall he had pushed you against.

"Pedro," you whined your arms entangled behind his back.

He smirked smugly enjoying the way he had you wrapped around his little finger. You were so incredibly responsive to his touch and the sound of his voice and he knew that not the largest movie role could give him a bigger ego-boost than your little sighs and whimpers that were only meant for him.

He kissed his way down to the swell of your breasts gently burying his teeth in your flesh so deep that he could feel you twitch but not so much so that he would seriously hurt you. When he started to take care of your nipples you threw your head back feeling grateful for the wall behind you and buried your hands in his hair that started to look more and more messy and curly the longer the two of you made out.

Not wanting to neglect your left breast his big hand took care of your other bud and enclosed it between his fingers which made you rock your core against his leg between your thighs.

"Pedro," you sighed again feeling almost too weak on your knees to stand but luckily he sensed it and steadied you by holding you by your waist.

"I know babygirl. I'm gonna make you feel so fuckin' good. 'Cause you deserve it. I love you so much and I want you to feel it."

This was probably the clostest to heaven you would ever reach because both his mouth and his hand was occupied with exploring your chest with so much delicacy that you felt like you were the most precious thing Pedro had ever held in his arms.

That was one of the attributes about him that you had fallen in love with first. The way he made his opposite feel as though they were the only and most important person for him. And he was especially good at doing so while devouring your body.

"You're so fucking pretty like this, baby. I don't know what I did to deserve all of this."

You widened your eyes because the question was what did you do to deserve this?

"I need you Pedro," you whimpered, seriously close to crying not only because of the gentleness of his words but also because you were so desperate to be closer to him, seeing and tasting every part of him while being utterly consumed by him.

"Patience, y/n."

Your nails lightly scratched over his shoulders hinting at the fact that you weren't in the mood to wait right now but he placed a messy kiss on your collarbone while soothingly caressing the side of your chest.

"I know, I know. Just lemme have a little more time with you, mhm? Afterwards I'll make you come as many times as you want, okay?"

You nodded because what else were you supposed to do? Were you supposed to deny him when he looked at you with these puppy eyes? You would probably agree to anything he was asking of you right now.

And so Pedro continued his explorations on your abdomen kissing and biting every inch of your skin. His big hands kneaded your flesh and rolled your buds between his fingers gifting you indescribable pleasure and if you hadn't been too fucked out already to articulate your words you probably would have repeatedly sighed his name over and over again.

His mouth additionally traced the outline of your breast and seeing this perfect man savouring you like you were the most beautiful and stunning creature he had ever laid his eyes on gave you more confidence than anything else in the world.

Soon, you had lost every sense for the passing time, he let go of you and guided you to the big bed in the middle of the room. Pedro gently pushed you on it but didn't immediately followed as he started to take off his shirt which he threw on the floor joining his jacket that he had already pealed off earlier. Then his pants followed and he eventually crawled, only wearing his boxers, on top of you.

You were mesmerized by his stunning body that you had seen more times than you could count and yet never failed to make you drool for him. His broad shoulders, the small waist and his muscular arms… Obviously he noticed the way you were staring and put a finger under your chin.

"Naughty girl…," he purred and then kissed you softly but pulled back way too soon.

"You're gonna let me eat that pussy?" he asked and you gulped feeling his hands on your hips. He was good at giving oral sex but you knew that in the kind of mood he was in tonight it would be sensational. Electrifying. You really were in for a ride.

Almost feeling scared of the reaction he would provoke in you you ran your hands through his hair.

"Yes, Pedro. Please," you whispered nevertheless and watched him make his way down your body.

He stopped at your stomach kissing the softness of your belly which made you giggle and then he pulled down your dress, took it off your body so the only thing separating him from what hid between your legs was your panties. He stroked your bare thighs looking at your body almost proudly as if he was dreaming about what would come now.

"Please. I really need it, Pedro, like really."

His eyes shot up to your face again and a smile formed on his face.

"Someone is a little impatient tonight."

You rolled your eyes though not entirely capable of hiding your inner peace.

"Someone is a teasing ass tonight."

That made him chuckle but he finally pealed off your underwear which you considered a success and you apprehensively pressed your legs together.

"You know you need to open your legs in order for me to make you feel good," he smirked gently and yet firmly parting your thighs. Then his eyes darkened at the sight of your pussy and you could hear his breath catching in his throat.

"Will you look at that…," he panted caressing the insides of your thighs. "The best fuckin' pussy I've ever tasted and smelled and touched."

The butterflies in your stomach were wakened once more and you blushed at his words. You couldn't believe that you had been anxious about him seeing, let alone eating your pussy at the start of your relationship just because your past partners had either not given you oral sex at all or expressed their dislike for it very clearly. But Pedro wasn't like them. He was absolutely crazy about making you come on his tongue and ever since you had let him dive between your thighs for the first time you realized what douchebags your exes had been.

You snapped back to reality when Pedro lowered his head and licked a strip from your hole up to your clit collecting your arousal and swallowing it with relish.

"For fuck's sake," he growled his eyes rolling back at your divine taste. "You're drippin', babygirl."

"Pedro, fuck… Please…," you whimpered already feeling like pudding beneath him.

This time he instantly followed your request, perhaps feeling addicted to your taste so much that he didn't care about teasing you anymore.

He wrapped his soft lips around your clit applying light pressure while circling his tongue around it, which was an intoxicating combination. Sometimes you believed that he knew your body better than you did because he seemed to know exactly where to touch you and when to go faster but if you slept with someone almost every day for more than 3 years you grew to know each other's likings and dislikings.

It didn't take you long until you realized that he was especially hooked tonight. He was always good, of course but tonight you felt like he was eating you alive. You wondered how he had the energy to get lost in you like this after having spent almost three hours dancing and exhausting himself at the concert but who were you to complain? It felt like he was trying to suffocate in your pussy and when he took your clit between his teeth to lightly nibble at it you let out a long whine.

"Fuckkkk," you whimpered gripping the bedsheets and feeling your toes curl.

"Ohh fuck, Pedro. S-So… fucking… good."

He smiled which you couldn't see and then started to circle your entrance with his pointer finger. His mouth didn't leave your clit for a second while he inserted his finger in you gently opening you up. He curled it just right and you choked on a moan.

"Please. Please, I need to…," you whined unable to finish the sentence but you honestly didn't know what you were even asking for.

"Yes, baby. I got you, you see? S'alright, I know what you need. Just listen to my voice and relax. I'll take care of you."

His voice was so soothing and mesmerizing that you allowed yourself to close your eyes. He really was taking care of you because minutes later you felt yourself getting closer to your orgasm. He kitten-licked your clit now getting the hood that covered your little nub out of the way so it was even more intense for you. In the way your body tensed and your muscles tightened he was able to see that you were about to burst so he became faster.

"You're gonna cum for me, y/n? Gonna soak my face?"

You could only nod too focused on not letting out a shriek that was definitely not appropriate for an entire hotel to be heard and dug your fingers into his broad shoulders.

"Then come. Give it all to me, c'mon."

It was truly magical how you reached your high right at his words and arched beneath him.

"FUCK," you cried out buckling your hips and uncontrollably shook while he licked you through it.

"S'right. That's a good girl…"

The intense orgasm completely took you out and you needed a moment to collect yourself but once you did you realized how his touch had started to feel overwhelming.

"Pedro…," you whispered pulling at his strong arms.

"Feelin' a little overstimulated?" he asked raising his head from your cunt.

"Yes. But I need you now, please. Need you inside of me."

Pedro was more than happy with your request and crawled up to you again so your faces were on the same level.

"Yeah, you do?" he asked with flashing eyes and you couldn't wait to feel filled by him any longer so you wrapped your legs around his waist and crossed them behind is ass.

"Please. I want you so badly."

He looked down and your eyes followed him to where he pulled his boxers down to reveal his cock that stood hard against his stomach. The precum on his tip looked tempting and you were just about to demand to suck him off when he wrapped a hand around his shaft dragging the tip through your folds.

You instantly forgot everything and his dick quite literally took hold of your actions and thoughts. When he circled your aching clit your eyes rolled back and now you really were completely fucked out and at his mercy.

"Pedro…," you whispered almost feeling pathetic for begging him all the time but you really needed him now and he just couldn't make you wait any longer. Fortunately he finally released you from the torment and started to push into you with the tip.

"That's it… Oh jesus christ…," Pedro sighed his face drawn in pleasure.

"Breathe, sweetheart," he reminded you as he saw you staring up to him with eyes round as coins. "You're so fuckin' amazing, y/n. And you feel so goddamn good around me."

He was only with the tip inside but you already felt like it wouldn't take a lot more to make you come again so you applied pressure to his ass gesturing him to push deeper so the two of you could orgasm at the same time.

"I'm not gonna last long, babygirl, I'm sorry," he grunted in your ear his hands groping your right breast.

"S'okay," you managed to press out. "I won't either."

Pedro smiled softly and left kisses on your jaw while picking up the pace of thrusting in you. He still didn't go as deep as he could fearing that he might hurt you as he wasn't exactly small but it was enough to drive him dangerously close to the edge after an embarrassingly short amount of time.

Pedro swiftly reached down between your legs to search for your clit and started to rub you in messy circles so he wouldn't burst before you.

"Are you close, honey?" he breathed and you felt his thrusts getting sloppier.

"Yes. M'close, m'so fuckin' close."

He pushed inside of you three more times while stimulating your clit and then you came. You shrieked loudly and the feeling of your pussy clenching around him made him burst as well. Pedro let out a deep growl, collapsed on top of you and you felt his cum filling you up to the brim.

"Oh jesus fuckin' christ…," he moaned and bruied his face in your neck.

You on the other hand were powerlessly sprawled out underneath him enjoying the way his weight pressed you down into the mattress and soothingly ran your hands through his locks.

"That was so good, baby," you whispered and kissed his sweaty hair.

He didn't answer you but you were familiar with the way he always needed a moment to collect himself after a crushing orgasm like this. So you decided to shower him with the love your felt for him that was so intense currently that it almost cut off your breathing.

"I love you, Pedro. So so much. And I wanna spend the rest of my life with you. I want you by my side all the time, forever."

That was the point where he lifted his head glancing at you with wet eyes.

"How did I deserve you?" he asked for the second time tonight pretending to break down and cry and you cradled his head.

"C'mere," you whispered gesturing him to crawl up to you and pulled him in for a kiss.

"Pedro?" you asked against his lips after a while.

"Mhm?" he spoke sounding just as exhausted as you felt.

"I'm so tired. Can we just clean up tomorrow?"

He gently bit you bottom lip and caressed your cheek. "Of course. Just wanna sleep now."

With these words he rolled off you but was quick to embrace you again by moving your body around so your head could rest on his chest. When his hand began to stroke your hair you almost started to pur like a cat but you didn't find out whether you did because you fell asleep before it could happen.

~~~~~~~~~~

The two of you woke up late the next day which wasn't a surprise considering the concert had ended at around 1 am and instead of sleeping you had fucked afterwards.

So it was almost noon when you opened your eyes and glanced at Pedro to your left who was still fast asleep. You decided that the two of you deserved a lazy morning like this and moved over to him so you could crouch against his upper body. The sticky feeling between your legs reminded you of how you both had been too lazy last night to clean yourselves up but you were still not eager to leave Pedro so you pushed the thought of going to the bathroom away and instead inhaled his scent greedily.

You were able to dooze away for a couple of minutes again but were woken up when Pedro moved next to you and you smiled as he opened his eyes into yours.

"Mhmmmm… what's the time?" he asked and yawned open-mouthedly.

"Almost 12."

He sighed, but made no attempt to get up, instead grabbing your waist so that your body crashed against his.

"I just wanna stay here," he mumbled his eyes closed but you poked him in the side.

"You have a rehearsal later, baby."

His lips formed a pout and he opened his left eye. "I can skip it."

You smirked and kissed his ear while crawling on top of him.

"Yeah you can. But then I'm really curious to see how you're gonna do tomorrow."

Pedro let out a frustrated hum and took hold of your waist. "You can jump in for me."

You had to laugh at his morning-dizziness that almost made him act like he was high and pressed kisses on his neck.

"No one will notice, right?"

He shook his head finally opening his eyes and smiled at you. "No. Because we're basically the same person 'cause we're getting married, you know?"

"Mhm, yes, I know."

You leaned down to kiss his nose while your hand caressed the side of his face.

"Y/n?"

"Yes?"

Pedro closed his eyes again breathing steadily while you spoiled his face and neck with kisses.

"Where do you wanna get married?"

You chewed on your bottom lip and thought about your answer for a few seconds.

"I haven't really thought about it yet to be honest. Have you?"

He shook his head slightly moving up in the bed so he could pull you closer to his chest.

"No, not really. But if you could choose right now, what place would you pick?"

"Mhmm… You know that I'm a big Italy fan, right? Just imagine it. Italian coast preferably in autumn so it's not too hot. And then our families and friends and we could go take a swim in the ocean at night." You laughed and pinched his cheek. "Or we could do a karaoke night."

Pedro rolled his eyes and grimaced which only made you giggle harder.

"Don't remind me of it. I really don't know why I agreed to do it for SNL. I just don't get why people are doing it, I mean someone has written the song and sang it, why are people now ruining it by giving us their drunk version of it?"

You pretended to frown and stroked the hair out of his face. "You're not gonna be drunk while perfoming it, are you?"

"Well maybe I should be. Ohhh fuck, y/n why have I agreed to this?"

Pedro buried his head in your neck and dramatically shook your body while you soothingly ran your hands over his naked back.

"Shhhh. You got this. I know you do. And you're not terrible when it comes to singing. You might not have the perfect timing, but…"

He interrupted you by lifting his head and showing you the middle finger. You quickly took hold of his hand pushing it against his chest and seriously looked at him.

"What I was saying was… You might not have the perfect timing, but I know that you're gonna do amazing, Pedro, because you're incredible. And you have time to practice today which brings me to the next important matter: We need to get up now."

He let out a disapproving cry and was quick to roll the two of you over so you were trapped underneath him.

"No," he whispered and narrowed his eyes at you. "I'm not finished with my morning routine yet."

You laughed out placing your hands on his shoulders. "Your morning routine?"

Pedro nodded with an important look on his face.

"Of course. Don't you know that it gives stability to have a morning ritual?"

You bit your lip with relish as you felt his hand traveling up your waist.

"Is that so? What is your morning ritual then?"

Pedro answered you with a deep kiss that completely cut off your air supply and left you breathless once he pulled away.

"Now I'm finished," he smirked and rolled off you.

~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the day was quite peaceful and eventless. Pedro ended up attending the rehearsal for the anniversary and returned to the hotel room when you had just started to read a book. His eyebrows were drawn together and dramatic as he was he dropped his head to his chest acting like he was crying.

"I messed up my entry a million times, y/n."

You put the book down stood up and pulled him into a hug. "Oh my love… I told you, the timing."

Pedro instantly pushed you away but couldn't hide the amusement on his face.

"Shut up. You don't know a thing about acting anyway," he prenteded to sulk and crossed his arms in front of his chest which made you laugh.

"How was it apart from your failure?" you then asked with flashing eyes. Pedro ignored your teasing and nodded while sitting down on the bed.

"It was good. I mean you know, I don't particulary enjoy karaoke but it was still fun. I was happy to see Marcello again and Sabrina was also very nice so, yeah. I think it's gonna be fine. I hope so."

"It will be fine, Pedro," you said insistently and truly meant it. "And even if you make a mistake it doesn't matter. This is the anniversary and it's supposed to be fun for everyone. No one's gonna care if you, I don't know, mess up the timing once or twice. Really."

He nodded again pulling you towards him by your hips until you stood between his legs.

"You're right. Somehow you're always right. How do you do it?"

You smirked and only now noticed how gorgeous he looked despite being exhausted from rehearsal.

"Keep talking, baby."

Pedro's hand were suddenly on your ass squeezing you softly which made your smile deepen. He was such a flirt and it sometimes drove you mad.

"Seriously though, we're gonna do what you wanna do tonight. I want you to relax. Even if it means watching an old film in bad quality on your iPad because you can't stream on Netflix on the hotel TV."

Pedro chuckled pushing you even closer to him until you lost your balance and landed on his lap.

"You're givin' me ideas, baby."

"If that's what you wanna do, let's do it."

And so the two of you actually spent the night watching 'Dirty Dancing' probably for the sixth time. You fell asleep once towards the end but woke up again before Pedro could even notice and then afterwards his hand on your thigh drove you insane but you didn't initiate anything as he was probably too tense and nervous to relax.

Tonight you went to bed early which you thought was exactly what the both of you needed and so you didn't fight the sleep creeping up on you as the sun hadn't even touched the horizon yet.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next day Pedro woke up early which was no wonder considering how stressed he was about his SNL performance. You didn't mind being waken up by his restlessly shifting body and although you had problems keeping your eyes open you decided to get up as well while Pedro took on his bathrobe.

"When are Coco and Julia gonna be here?" you asked rubbing over your tired eyes.

"They said they would be at the hotel at 4 pm I think. But I'm gonna check again."

"Alright," you yawned and opened your phone answering a few messages.

The both of you were still very tired so you didn't exchange a lot of words, well-aware of the fact that you just needed a few minutes of silence so you could properly wake up until you were fully ready for the day.

Despite feeling so excited and nervous Pedro knew about your habits and granted you these peacful minutes before the two of you decided to have breakfast downstairs.

It turned out to be a relaxed and beautiful meal, sipping on your cappucino while the sun shone inside despite the cold weather. Yet you worriedly watched your fianée only taking small bites from his pancake which made you speak up at some point.

"Pedro, you have to eat. You're gonna need the energy."

"I know," he sighed tapping with his finger on the table. "But I feel like I'm too anxious."

That made you take his hand and you traced his tattoo just like you always did when you attempted to make him calm.

"There's no need to be scared, baby. You practiced the skits, you are so fucking talented and they're gonna help you with the words if you forget. And you know that all these people performing with you love you and they're gonna try and make you feel comfortable. And I don't know if that helps but I'll be in the audience and I'm gonna cheer for you."

Your words elicited a smile from him and he stared down to where your hands were locked.

"It helps. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Both your rings reflected the incoming sunrays and you watched them taking in their beauty. You felt amazed and excited every time your eyes fell upon the ring because it still was so surreal to be engaged to him. Not in a way that you felt appalled or rejecting but more in a state of disbelief. You had been dating him for more than three years now, getting to know every aspect of his personality and had grown to love him like you had never loved someone before. And now he was engaged to you because he claimed to enjoy your presence just as much as you did his. It was simply perfect.

"You're never gonna know 'cause I'll always be with you," you replied to his previous words and blared your teeth. "Oh and besides, another important point: You already hosted SNL and you were absolutely incredibly and so we know that you can do it."

"Yeah but do we…?" he scoffed lifting his eyebrows playfully.

"Yes we do. Just promise me that you'll try and have fun. Because then it's gonna be a success."

He nodded looking like he truly appreciated your words for once and thoughtfully moved his thumb to his mouth.

"Once again, I don't know how you always know what to say."

You leaned back in your chair crossing your arms in front of your chest and shrugged your shoulders.

"90 percent of the time I don't know either. Or let's say 80."

Pedro curved the corner of his lips glancing at you with those brown eyes that you wished you could sink into.

~~~~~~~~~~

Pedro and you spent the morning reading and listening to music as there simply wasn't enough time to really do something like going to the city. Then around 4 pm his stylists Julia und Coco arrived and started to take care of the both of you. It was always fun to have the two of them around and you didn't mind sitting still in your chair at all as you were getting well entertained.

You now wore a green gown and a matching scarf around your neck that highlighted your red lips. You looked elegant and classy, you found and had to smile when your pupils danced over your reflection in the mirror. Pedro was currently in the other room getting ready and you couldn't wait to see him all dressed up.

You had to be patient for another 30 more minutes until you heard steps coming closer and you sat up in your chair turning your head to the door to the other room.

When Pedro opened it your eyes lightened up and time seemed to be frozen for a brief moment. He looked handsome, like a literal dream.

Pedro wore a brown suit and a light brown seater underneath. The colours went perfectly with his hair and skin tone and you thought that you probably wouldn't get bored staring at him for the rest of your life. But now Pedro seemed to want to see something himself and gestured you to stand up.

"Let me take a look at you, honey." You rose up twirling for him while giving him a shy smile. Pedro's eyes softened and before you could register him coming closer his arms were around your back.

"You look fucking amazing. For god's sake, I don't know how to concentrate on anything that isn't you tonight."

You hid your face in his neck that smelled of his favourite perfume holding back tears of happiness.

"So do you, baby. You're gorgeous."

You got lost in time and only slowly pulled away from each other when Pedro's publicist cleared her throat.

"Sorry to interrupt. But we need to get going soon."

He pressed one last kiss to your cheek and then watched you proudly running his hands over your sides.

"Of course. I think we're ready."

Minutes later you found yourself in the car again next to your fiancée just like you had before the homecoming concert.

You simply couldn't take your eyes off him, he really was glowing tonight and the drive to the studio flew by. Outside you were greeted with even more flashing lights than two nights ago and you almost wanted to cover your eyes from the photographers.

Your heart pounded loudly being well-aware that your engagement would be obvious now at latest. The two of you proudly wore your rings and right now it seemed like every newpaper in the world would have a photo of you on their front pages tomorrow.

Pedro tightly held your hand and you weren't certain if he did it to comfort you or seek comfort from you but either way you were happy about it and ran your thumb over his knuckles. The two of you waved to the papparzzi letting them take their pictures and then you were led inside by his publicist, Anna.

Inside the whole procedure started again with what seemed like a million cameras capturing every gesture and twitch of your eyes and soon your mouth hurt from smiling so much.

Of course Pedro was a lot more interesting to the papparazzi and interviewers than you and you let him take the spotlight with pleasure. You smiled watching him on the red carpet so the photographers could take a few pictures with him alone and then waited while he gave a couple of interviews.

You really hoped he knew how much he deserved all of this. Not just because he was an incredible actor and entertainer but also because he worked so hard to get here. You didn't even pay attention to anyone else on the red carpet although there were the most famous people in the world walking past you because you only had eyes for Pedro. Your loving perfect Pedro. The one who had turned your life upside down three years ago and the one you wanted to get old with.

You saw how he scratched his nose at one point during an interview and couldn't help but think that it was intentional as the engagement ring was on display for the camera to catch it. He had also shown it off very clearly on the red carpet putting his hand on his hip so the whole world would find out that he was with you. Suddenly it was you who asked herself what you had done to deserve him.

When Pedro was done after a couple of minutes he quickly walked over to you and offered you his arm which you gladly took. Anna guided the two of you further until you passed the famous glambot which he did as well and then you finally found yourselves in front of the SNL stage.

Of course you would have loved to enjoy the show snuggled up against his shoulder but as that wasn't possible Pedro quickly pulled you in for a hug pressing kisses to your head.

"I'm sorry but I think I have to leave already. Hair and makeup, you know… Will you be okay?"

You smiled cupping his face and once again admired his beauty.

"Of course, baby. I can't wait to see you on stage. And once again, you got this. I'm already so fucking proud of you and there's absolutely no reason for you to be stressed, okay? We're all here to celebrate and have fun and even it something goes wrong please don't beat yourself up. But it doesn't matter anyway because you'll do amazing. Just try to enjoy it and don't think too much about it."

He nodded at you with these puppy eyes that made you want to squeeze his face but this definitely wasn't the time and place for it right now so you just kissed him one last time goodbye and then he left to go backstage where it certainly was a lot more stressful than here in the audience.

You passed the time with chatting to both people you knew and didn't know and you had so much fun that you didn't even notice the place getting more crowded. You met people you had never even dreamt of seeing in real life such as Jenna Ortega whom you repeatedly told how much you loved her in 'Wednesday' or Scarlett Johansson who from now on would probably be one of your favourite people in the world as your conversation felt so natural from the start. She hugged you in the end telling you how much she was looking forward to seeing you more frequently from now on glancing at your engagement ring and you felt the heat rising in your face.

When the show finally started you already felt high on your emotions very exhilarated and at peace at the same time.

You enjoyed Steve Martin's monologue, laughed at the first skits of the night and then it was finally time for Pedro's first appearance of the night so you dug your nails into the palms of your hands holding your breath.

Of course he did amazing. You noticed how he actually messed up the opening line just as he had predicted which you reacted to with widened eyes but he managed to keep going and in your opinion delivered a hilarious performance. You laughed and almost lost it when he had his reunion with Marcello and clapped and cheered loudly at the end.

Pedro seemed to search for you in the crowd as his eyes were dancing over the ranks and as you fortunately weren't seated too high up he spotted you and gave you wide smile that gave away how he relieved he was.

You returned the smirk and to show him how proud you were you blew him a kiss which he reacted to with a cheeky wink of his eye. Then the show proceeded so Pedro left the stage with the other actors which meant you had to wait now for his second skit.

It was a great show, you really had to admit that and you felt perfectly entertained watching all of these actors and singers putting their talents to show. But in the end it was Pedro you were here for so when his second skit was about to start you straightened up once again balling your hands into fists, muscles tensing.

You were nervous for him although you were telling yourself there was no reason for it. The performance turned out to be absolutely incredible and you couldn't hold you laughter for a moment.

Not only did Pedro do it flawlessly, no, you were also in awe of Woody Harrelson, Kate McKinnon and Meryl Streep and their ways of delivering their lines. You laughed tears, shook your head at the ridiculousness and genius of the jokes and even stood up in the end to show how impressed you were.

You even took a mental note to watch every single skit there was that included Kate McKinnon because she really had blown you away.

This time Pedro didn't have the time to make eye contact with you but you nevertheless followed his figure leaving the stage and exhaled loudly. He made it and he had done a hell of a job.

You couldn't wait to tell him how proud of him you were but first there were a lot more skits and musical performances to come so you once again relaxed and watched the show with a stupid smile on your face that just didn't seem to leave your face for a second these past days.

When the whole cast and guest performers appeared on stage in the end you finally saw Pedro again and rose to your feet alongside the other audience members. The cheers and clapping didn't seem to stop and a warmth spread throughout your body thinking about how wholesome and beautiful this whole night had been.

But now there was only one thing on your mind and that was to finally jump in Pedro's arms and never let him go again. And so as soon as the cameras were turned off and the celebrities seated around you started to move you swiftly gathered your jacket and purse and rushed down the stairs of the rang.

Pedro had seemingly already waited for you because he had opened his arms widely embracing you firmly while spinning you around. Neither of you initiated ending the hug so you enjoyed each other's warmth while you whispered sweet things in his ear.

"You did so amazing, Pedro. I loved it so much and you were so so incredible. I loved every fucking minute."

He pulled away a little to look at your face and formed his lips in a pout. "Thank you, y/n," he said clearly emotional and stroked the side of your head.

"But I messed up. Just as I said I would."

You strictly raised your finger lifting your eyebrows in a serious manner.

"No one cares. And don't you start with this now. It was a hilarious skit and you starting a little too early doesn't change anything about it."

He pressed your face to his neck swinging the two of you slightly.

"If you say so… It really was fun to be honest. But I was sooo nervous before, you won't believe it."

"But you did it. And I'm proud of you."

Pedro once again pursed his lips. "Thank you. This means so much to me. And I don't know how I would've done all of this without you."

In the way his voice broke you sensed that he was on the verge of crying and it made you tear up as well. Pedro quickly blinked them away pulling you in for yet another hug and then you stood like this for you didn't know how long but when you ended the hug a lot of people had already left the stage.

"Hotel?" you asked never having felt more content in your life.

"Hotel," he answered tightly gripping your hand and pulled you with him.

[orcasoul]

The Plus One

Summery: You and Pedro have been in a relationship for a while but for some reason he'd stopped inviting you to social events. Has he grown tired of you...?

Warnings: swearing, angst (because I liiive for it!), mental health issues, low self esteem from reader, caring Pedro, fluff, use of Y/N.

This is inspired by the video of Pedro dancing his arse off at Sarah Paulsons 50th birthday party. God bless this man for randomly inspiring us when he's not even trying to lol.

Word Count: 3,516

It's a quiet evening at home. The living room fireplace is softy blazing, the crackling red and orange flames along with the Christmas tree lights and low lamp light bathes the room in a reposeful ambience. You're snuggled up on the settee in your favourite fluffy Oodie, sipping a hot chocolate as you finish reading a Christmas rom com by one of your favourite authors. And while this is something that usually helps you to unwind at the end of the day, you can't seem to shift that gutting feeling deep down in your stomach. You should have been with Pedro tonight at Sarah's party instead of here alone. With the book finished you're about to check Kindle for your next read but before opening the app, you'd decided to check your notifications on facebook.

Now you wish you hadn't. Of course the first thing to pop up would be a video of Pedro having the time of his life at the party. Not that that is the real issue here. You're not the controlling or possessive type who wants to keep their partner all for yourself and deny them any kind of social life; quite the opposit, in fact. The thing that really hurts, that makes your heart physically ache is that you're never included in Pedro's social events anymore. You would have loved to have been his date to Sarah's party and make memories with him like normal couples do. You've met Sarah on several occasions and the two of you had always got along really well, so why would he rather go alone than bring you?

You've been together for six months now, so it's not like you're in the early stages where you're both yet to meet the others' family and friends. It just doesn't make sense. You had attended a few ceremonies and promotional events for Pedro's movies with him before now and even though they had been quite intense environments to be in, you were just thrilled to be there with him, to support him and show the world how proud you are of him. And you'd like to think that you were adept at hiding the effects that your social anxiety had on you during these occasions. You'd smile, engage in chit chat and if it became too overwhelming you'd always secretly resort to your special coping technique to calm your nerves; stroking slow circles on the palm of your hand.

But it had been months since you'd last attended any events with him and as time goes on it just hurts more and more. You'd hoped time would have made it easier to accept, but truthfully it makes you feel abandoned, insignificant, like you don't belong in his world. Is that it? Is he embarrassed by you? It's true you're both from very different worlds, having met through friends of friends and not through working together in the film industry. Sometimes you still can't understand why he'd chose to be with a nobody like you when he could literally have any woman he wanted. As your mind continues to spiral, taking you to dark places, tears begin to roll down your cheeks.

To love him so much, only to feel it's not enough for him to want you around is... soul crushing. You'd been trying for so long to ignore that niggling little voice in the back of your mind; the one telling you that you aren't good enough for him and there has been times when you'd been able to mute it, especially when you're together and he looks at you with pure adoration in his eyes, or the times he would come home to LA between filming, even if it was just for a couple of days to see you or if he couldn't make it he'd fly you out to the set. No matter what he always made time for your relationship, but only out of the public eye. Pedro has always been a private person, especially when it comes to romantic involvements, but it feels like he's trying to hide you.

And now, this latest video has turned that niggling little voice into a full on megaphone, screaming an endless barrage of ugly truths at you; you're not enough for him. He's bored of you. You're an embarrassment, a stone around his neck. It was only a matter of time. You clutch at your chest as your heart shatters into a thousand pieces, sobs wracking your body. It's over! How could you have not seen it sooner?! He doesn't need you in his life. He's bloody Pedro Pascal for heavens' sake.

You were a delusional fool to ever believe you had anything to offer him. Maybe this is his way of subtly telling you it wasn't working for him anymore. Maybe he'd hoped showing you the stark differences between you both would have made you realise it couldn't continue, and being the kind and gentle man he is, he didn't want to outright dump you and hurt you, so this was the best strategy.

Now your sorrow is tinged with anger. If he wanted to end it all this time he damn well should have had the balls to tell you instead of dragging it out. So, it's down to you now; if he won't do it, you'll have to. Your tablet screen is now shining with your tears. You wipe it dry with your sleeve and throw it down beside you, Knidle well and truly forgotton. Fluffing up a cushion, you curl up on the settee while your broken heart mourns and weeps.

As the party came to an end Pedro couldn't help but feel a little relieved. He'd had a great time and wouldn't have missed one of his best friends' milestone birthdays for the world, but he missed you like hell tonight. He especially felt the sting of your absence when he would see couples dancing or sitting together, hand in hand or snuggling up. He feels selfish, but he wishes you could have been here tonight. And not just tonight, but to all his recent public appearances like the premiers for The Wild Robot and Gladiator 2, but he won't put you through that again.

The guilt still eats away at him when he casts his mind back to the last couple of times you'd attended high profile events with him, even low key and private ones where there isn't a constant blinding flash of cameras. He knows of your struggles with your mental health, in particular with social anxiety (something he can absolutely relate to) and even through your obvious facade he could see what the pressure was doing to you, often feeling a slight tremble in your hand while laced with his. He could see the difference between your forced smile and your genuine smile; the one that would make your eyes sparkle and he could lose himself in them completely.

But the worst thing was when you start rubbing the palm of your hand over and over when you'd thought he wasn't watching. He knew then it was all becoming too much for you and that's when he'd decided that he won't be selfish anymore, that he had to prioritise your well being and comfort before his own and if that meant attending ceremonies and large gatherings alone, so be it. Of course, he always felt incomplete without you at his side, but your needs far outweigh his own as far as he's concerned. Knowing he can shield you from even a fraction of discomfort makes the sacrifice worth it.

After slipping into his jacket, Pedro found Sarah at the front door of her house, waving some guests off. Wrapping her in a big hug, he said, "Happy birthday again, sweetie and thanks for inviting me." Sarah returned the hug. "I'm so glad you came, but I missed seeing Y/N tonight. How is she?" Pedro couldn't hold back the grin that broke out across his face at the mention of your name. "She's great. I wanted to bring her tonight, but I think the crowd would have been too much for her." Sarah smiled endearingly at her friend. "You really do love her, don't you?" Pedro chuckled. "What makes you say that?"

"Oh no reason..." she smirked. " Only that I've never seen you so smitten and protective over any other woman in all the years I've known you. You've got it bad." Pedro rolled his eyes, playfully. "Yeah, I guess I do." "So, what are you waiting for?" Sarah crossed her arms over her chest. "What are you talking about?" Pedro asked, knowing exactly what she meant. "You've been carrying that ring around with you for weeks now and still haven't asked her. What's holding you back?" Pedro shifted uncomfortably, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Just worried about her, that's all. The moment word gets out of an engagement, paparazzi will be circling like vultures. I don't just want her overwhelmed." "I think you underestimate her," Sarah began, "I don't think she'd ever let her anxiety get in the way of being with you. It's obvious how much she loves you. In fact when I'm around you two for too long, the sweetness gives me temporary diabetes." Pedro let out a deep belly laugh at that, drawing one from Sarah in return.

"Just do it..." she urged, gently. "You know she'll say yes." Pedro smiled and nodded, "I know." "Well..." Sarah yawned, "Get out of here. I'm fifty now and need my beauty sleep." She gave Pedro another hug. "So, I'll see you and Y/N for lunch next week?" "Sure," Pedro replied, "Goodnight, sweetie." He waved as he walked to his car. "Night," Sarah called out before closing the door.

Settling in his car, Pedro connected his phone to the car speaker and rang your phone. He promised he'd call after the party to say goodnight and couldn't wait to hear your voice. But as soon as you answered, he knew something was wrong. "Hey baby, everything okay?" he asked, worridly. His worry only increased when you cleared your throat, trying to hide the tremble in your voice. "Yeah um... I'm fine." You most definitely aren't fine! "You're a shit liar, you know that?" Pedro says, lightheartedly to help put you at ease. Now his tone turns more serious. "Tell me what's wrong." Silence... "Y/N? You're starting to scare me now." "I told you I'm fine. I'm just... tired." You tried to sound convincing but failed, spectacularly.

"I'm coming over -" "No!" Your abrupt outburst silenced Pedro. You've never turned him away in all the months you've been together. "It's... uh... it's late. You should just get home safe." Pedro sighed. "I know something's wrong and if you won't tell me on the phone I'm coming over." At that, you burst into tears. A pang shot straight through Pedro's heart at the sound of you crying. "Hey, baby, talk to me!" he pled. "What happened?" In between the the sniffling your voice became strained. "I didn't want to do this over the phone." Pedro suddenly had a sinking feeling in his gut, not liking the tone of this conversation. "Do what?" he asked, hesitantly. "Its..." sniffle, "It's over."

If Pedro hadn't already been sitting in the car his legs would have given out on him! "W- what?!" he stuttered in disbelief. "What do you mean it's over?!" His hands gripped the steering wheel for support. Where the fuck did this come from all of a sudden?! "Please..." you whispered, sounding mentally drained. "Don't pretend you didn't know this was coming. If you don't want me anymore you should have said something sooner." Pdero jerked his head back, blinking in shock. "What the hell are you talking about, Y/N?" You are full on sobbing now, your words just an unintelligible jumble. "I'm coming over, right now!" "No, please-" "I'm coming over!" he cut you off bluntly and hung up the phone.

His hands shook as he started up the engine and it took all of his willpower to not floor it to your house. Getting pulled over for speeding is the last thing he needs right now. The whole way over, his mind was a frantic mess. What could have happened between the last time he saw you (which was only yesterday) and now? Did he say something? Do something? When he got to your house, he practically flew from the car, his fist pounding on your front door almost as hard as his heart was pounding behind his ribs. "Baby open up, please. I'm not leaving until you talk to me." A few moments later the door cracked open and there you stood, puffy eyed and blotchy faced. Your lips had swollen and your nose shone red from crying.

Pedro could have cried himself from the state you're in. Without a second thought he pushed his way through the door and swept you into his arms, cupping the back of your head to his chest. To his relief, instead of pushing him away, you encircled your arms around his waist, holding him tight. He reached back to close the door behind him, then guided you to the setee, sitting beside you. "Now, what's all this about, hmm? I know this isn't what you really want." You shook your head, a small humourless laugh escaping you. "Of course it's not, but deep down I think it's what you want."

Pedro's forefinger gently tipped your chin up so you were looking into his eyes; big puppy dog eyes filled hurt, confusion and fear. "What I want?" His bottom lip twitched as if he was lost for words. You nod, wiping your cheeks. "W- why would you ever think something like that, sweetheart?" Pedro's shocked expression now has you doubting yourself. Were you wrong? But how could you be? For a while, you've been trying to ignore the feeling that he was slipping away but looking at him now... It's like he'd never even entertained the idea of leaving you. All this uncertainty is giving you whiplash and you can't hold it in anymore. You need to get everything off your chest.

"I..." you trail off as you feel more tears gathering, ready to pour out along with all your insecurities. "...I feel like you don't want me around anymore..." you begin, chest shuddering with nerves and hiccups. "You never invite me to anything, whether it's to do with your public life or even your social life. I'm never included like a partner should be. I need you to be honest... Are you ashamed of me? Because sometimes I feel like you don't want to be seen with me and that you've been pulling away..." You're rambling now, but you just can't stop. "I know I'm not on the same level as you and there are so many beautiful women out there throwing themselves at your feet. Maybe I don't belong in your world. Maybe I'm not enough for you-" Pedro's hands on either side of your face stops your self deprecating tirade.

"Baby, don't you ever put yourself down like that again, you hear me?" You're shocked to see Pedro's cheeks are now wet too. "I'm sorry. Fucking hell! I'm so sorry I made you feel that way. I thought I was protecting you this whole time." "Protecting me?" you ask in bewilderment. Pedro gave you a sad smile. "I Know from years of experience that being in the spotlight is tough. It can be draining and I could see how hard it was for you." Pedro took one of your hands and turned it over, rubbing slow circles into your palm. When you realised what he meant by that action, he nodded and kissed your forehead.

"I know you tried to hide it from me, but I noticed every time." "I'm sorry," you mumbled, shame burning your cheeks. "No." Pedro squeezed your hand. "You never apologise for that. I'm the one who's sorry. I was afraid if I mentioned it, you deny it for my sake, so I stopped asking you to come with me thinking it was the best thing for you." Pedro exhaled and your heart ached for him, seeing the guilt and remorse crushing him. "I didn't think it would have looked like I never want you around, 'cause the truth is I miss you, EVERY GODDAMN TIME I have to attend these things without you. I want you with me, now and forever. I'll tell you what..." he looked to be carefully considering his next words. "if you feel up for it, come with me to the next event and if you feel overwhelmed at any point, you tell me and we'll take some time out or even leave."

More tears fall, but this time from sheer relief. You hadn't realised you'd dropped your head again until Pedro, once again, lifted your chin. He looked into your eyes with a fierce and passionate determination. "Now, I'll say this only once; I'm not ashamed of you, we are on the same level, you are more than enough for me and you ARE my world. I love you, so much!" You couldn't fight the beaming smile that practically split your face and you grabbed Pedro by the collar of his jacket, crashing your lips against his.

A surprised "Oomph!" came from his throat and you felt him smile against your mouth. His hands slid to your waist and he pulled you flush to his upper body. His tongue licked your lips and you opened them, allowing him to deepen then kiss; a kiss filled with love, reassurance and a promise of forever. Pedro then broke the kiss, pulling you into a hug. "I love you too," you whispered into his ear. "And I'm sorry, I should have told you how I was feeling instead of keeping it from you." Pedro cupped your cheek, wiping away a tear. "I'm sorry too, for making that decision for you instead of talking to you."

You let out a lighthearted chuckle, Pedro's frown softening at the sound. "I guess it was just bad communication on both our parts." "Yeah..." he agreed. "Let's make a promise to each other, right now; that we'll always be open and honest with each other and not keep things bottled up." "I promise," you smile and kiss the tip of his nose. "And I promise, too," he returned the kiss. With all the tension drained from your body, you suddenly feel exhausted and can't stop the big yawn taking over you. Pedro smiled at you, adoringly. "I think we should get you to bed, sweetheart." He stood up, picking you up off the setee and made his way to your bedroom.

"Will you stay tonight?" You whisper as you snuggle into his neck, inhaling the scent you love so much. "Of course I will." He kissed the crown of your head. While you used the bathroom, pedro changed into a pair of PJ bottoms and an old T-shirt he'd left here for when he'd stay over. He used the bathroom after you, rushing through brushing his teeth just so he could return to you sooner. Walking into the bedroom, he laughed to himself when all could see was your eyes peeking at him from the edge of the quilt, which was pulled up to cover your nose. God, you look adorable. Your eyes creased in the corners as you laughed under the cover, then pulled it away for him to settle in next to you.

Pedro laid on his back, lifting his arm for you to snuggle into him. Sighing happily, you lay your head on his broad chest and lace a leg over his hips, the steady thump of his heartbeat and the warmth of his body soothing you instantly. "I love you." You tipped your head up to kiss him softly on his lips. "I love you too," he purred, tightening his arms around you. It didn't take you more than ten minutes to drop off, judging by your slow breaths. Pedro, on the other hand, stayed awake long after you'd dropped off, just relishing the feeling of holding you in his arms. He feels sick to his stomach when he thinks about how close he came to losing you tonight, and all because of a misunderstanding.

He thinks of the ring he's been carrying around, how he almost lost the opportunity to give it to you. Well, he won't wait any longer. If tonight has taught him anything, it's that nothing is guaranteed in life and, even though he never once doubted you'd say yes, just your devastated reaction to believing you'd lost him proves that you love and need him as much as he does you. Tomorrow he'll ask you; He'll wine and dine you at your favourite restaurant, take you on a stroll along the beach and then, he'll get down on one knee and invite you to share the rest of your life with him.

@greenwitchfromthewoods @picketniffler @liciafonseca @misscornelia13 @missadangel @southernbe

[lazysoulwriter]

can't keep his hands off you. - pedro pascal.

Pedro had always been affectionate, but lately, it felt like he physically couldn’t go a minute without touching you. It wasn’t just at home, in the privacy of your shared space—it was everywhere. In public, among friends, even when he was supposed to be paying attention to something else, his hands naturally gravitated toward you.

At Home

The sun had barely risen, golden light filtering through the curtains, but Pedro’s arm was already wrapped tightly around your waist. He pulled you closer, pressing lazy kisses along your shoulder.

“You’re so warm,” he murmured against your skin, his voice still rough from sleep.

“You say that every morning,” you chuckled, running a hand through his messy curls.

“And I’ll keep saying it,” he promised, squeezing your hip. “Can’t help myself.”

In Public

The café was packed, and the hum of conversations filled the air, but Pedro was only focused on you. His fingers traced absent patterns on your thigh under the table while you sipped your coffee. Every now and then, he leaned in, brushing his lips against your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth.

“Pedro,” you warned playfully, side-eyeing him.

“What?” He feigned innocence, his warm brown eyes sparkling. “Just making sure you know I love you.”

You shook your head, laughing. “I think the whole café knows by now.”

Among Friends

A group movie night at a friend’s house meant laughter, drinks, and Pedro practically in your lap. He had started sitting normally, but by the middle of the film, his arm was around you, his fingers stroking your arm. Then his hand had found its way beneath your sweater, resting on the bare skin of your waist.

“Dude, are you even watching?” Oscar asked, raising an eyebrow at Pedro.

Pedro smirked but didn’t move his hand. “Of course. But this is my favorite part,” he added, squeezing your side.

“Right.” Oscar rolled his eyes, but you could feel the amused glances from the rest of your friends.

On a Walk

The city lights reflected on the wet pavement as you and Pedro walked hand in hand. It was supposed to be a simple, peaceful stroll, but Pedro had other plans. He tugged you into a quiet alley, pushing you gently against the brick wall.

“Pedro,” you giggled, breath hitching as he buried his face in your neck.

“Just one kiss,” he mumbled against your skin, pressing his body flush against yours.

You arched an eyebrow. “Just one?”

He grinned, brushing his lips over yours. “Okay, maybe a few.”

Always

Whether it was at home, in a crowded café, or on a simple walk, Pedro’s hands were always on you—his fingers tracing circles on your skin, his lips brushing against yours, his warmth surrounding you like a constant reminder.

He was touch-starved, but only for you. And, truthfully? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

[jazzy96scorpio]

SNL Spark: A Backstage Romance

Description: A rising singer [You] gets the chance of a lifetime to perform on SNL, but the real magic happens when you meet guest star Pedro Pascal. From a hilarious skit to a sizzling after-party, your connection ignites, proving that sometimes, the greatest performances happen off-stage.

Pairing: You / Pedro Pascal

Warnings ⚠️: Adult content, fluff, age gap, dirty talk, oral sex (m/f rec), unprotected sex, explicit sex description, creampie, SMUT

Word count: 1272

The Meet-Cute (Saturday)

The SNL studio buzzed with energy. You clutched your script, a mix of nerves and excitement fluttering in your stomach.  You found your seat at the long table, the names of the cast and guest written on place cards.  Pedro's was next to yours.  Just as you sat down, he walked in, his easy smile lighting up the room.  "Hi," he said, his voice warm and genuine. "You must be [Y/N]."

"Hi," you replied, your voice a little softer than you intended. "Yes I'm [Y/N]."

He extended a hand. "Pedro Pascal. It's great to meet you. I heard you're a fantastic singer. I'm looking forward to hearing you perform."

"Thank you," you said, shaking his hand. His touch sent a surprising jolt through you.

"I'm a little nervous about the skit, to be honest."

Pedro chuckled. "Me too. I don't like to sing in front of people." He winked, and you couldn't help but smile.  "But hey, we're in this together.  We'll make it hilarious."

The table read began, and as you read your lines, you couldn't help but notice Pedro's reactions. He laughed at your jokes, and his eyes lingered on you when you weren't speaking. 

When it came time for the musical number in the skit, you sang a few lines a cappella, and Pedro's eyebrows rose in surprise.  "Wow," he breathed. "You're incredible."

Later that day, you and Pedro rehearsed the skit. The scene called for you to playfully bounce your rear near him as he attempted some awkward hip thrusts and dance moves.

The contrast between your smooth moves and his hesitant ones was comedic gold. During one particularly close encounter, Pedro stumbled, his face turning a shade of red.

"Sorry!" he exclaimed, laughing. "I'm not used to this kind of choreography."

"It's okay," you said, giggling. "Just feel the rhythm." You demonstrated a simpler hip movement, and he tried to mimic it. He was still a bit stiff, but his efforts were endearing.

"You're a natural," you complimented.

"Thanks," he said. "Maybe after this, I'll take some dance lessons.  Anything's better than… well, than singing."  He grimaced playfully. "Karaoke is my personal hell."

"Really?" you asked, surprised.  "You seem like someone who'd be great at it."

"Oh, I can act like I'm having fun," he said with a wry smile.  "But inside, I'm dying a little.  Give me a dramatic monologue any day.  Just don't ask me to carry a tune."

The rehearsal continued, and with each take, Pedro became more comfortable with the choreography (though still decidedly not comfortable with the idea of singing). The laughter between you grew, and the playful banter made the atmosphere light and fun. There was a definite spark between you two, a connection that went beyond the skit.

As the rehearsal wrapped up, you and Pedro gathered your things. "Want to grab some coffee?" he asked, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "I need some serious caffeine after all that… dancing," he said, wincing playfully.

"Definitely," you replied. "My treat."

You found a small cafe near the studio and settled into a quiet corner.  "So," you said, stirring your latte, "about your aversion to singing…"

Pedro chuckled. "It's a deep-seated trauma, I tell you.  One particularly disastrous karaoke night involving a Bon Jovi song and a spilled drink… it's scarred me for life."

You laughed, picturing the scene. "I can just imagine," you said.  "But seriously, you have a great voice.  You shouldn't be so shy."

"Easy for you to say," he retorted. "You're a natural. I'm more of a… shower singer.  Where no one can hear me."

The conversation flowed easily, moving from funny anecdotes about past gigs to more serious discussions about the challenges of the entertainment industry.

You discovered a shared passion for your craft and a mutual understanding of the pressures that came with it.  He was surprisingly down-to-earth, and you felt comfortable and relaxed in his company.

As the conversation lulled, a comfortable silence settled between you.  You met his gaze, and for a moment, time seemed to slow down.  His eyes, warm and brown, held a hint of something you couldn't quite decipher.  He smiled, a slow, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat.

"You know," he said, his voice softer now, "I'm really glad I met you. You're… amazing."

"Thank you," you whispered, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. "You're pretty amazing yourself."

The moment hung in the air, charged with unspoken feelings.  He reached across the table and lightly touched your hand.  The contact, brief as it was, sent a jolt of electricity through you.

"I should probably get going," he said, finally breaking the spell.  "Big day tomorrow."

"Right," you replied, a little disappointed that the moment was over. "Good luck with the show."

"Thanks," he said, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer.  "And you too.  I can't wait to see you shine."

He stood up, gave you one last smile, and then walked away.  You watched him go, your heart still fluttering.  The shared laughter, the deeper conversation, the lingering look – it all pointed to something more than just a casual acquaintance.  You had a feeling that this was just the beginning.

Sunday - The SNL Show

The backstage area buzzed with nervous energy.  Makeup artists flitted between performers, hair stylists worked their magic, and stagehands rushed to prepare for the live broadcast.  You were in your dressing room, putting the final touches on your makeup, when there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," you called.

The door opened, and Pedro stood there, looking incredibly handsome in a perfectly tailored brown suit with a glittery shirt peeking out from beneath the jacket.  "Wow," you breathed, your eyes taking in his suave appearance. "You look amazing."

He grinned. "Thanks. You clean up pretty nicely yourself," he said, his eyes sweeping over your outfit. "That color looks incredible on you."

"Thank you," you replied, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. "You seem a little nervous."

"Just a bit," he admitted. "It's live TV, after all.  But I'm excited too.  Especially for our skit."

"Me too," you said. "I think we're going to kill it."

Pedro's first skit was a hit. He was hilarious, his comedic timing impeccable. You watched from the wings, admiring his talent and charisma.  When he came off stage, you gave him a high-five. "You were fantastic!" you exclaimed.

"Thanks!" he said, beaming. "Now it's your turn.  Show'em what you got girl."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you took your position on stage. The music started, and you launched into your performance, your voice soaring through the studio.  Then, Pedro joined you.  He started to sing (a little nervously at first, but with growing confidence), and you danced together, the chemistry between you undeniable.  During a particularly suggestive dance move where you were grinding near him, he playfully but subtly touched your waist, sending shivers down your spine. 

He was good, surprisingly good, and even though you could sense his initial nervousness, he quickly relaxed into the performance.  The audience roared with laughter and applause. You felt so aroused near him.  The look on his face, his hips, his hair, his beard, everything about him was simply amazing.

After the skit, you both collapsed into laughter backstage. "We did it!" you exclaimed.

"We did!" he agreed, still chuckling. "You were really good.  Like, really good."

"You weren't so bad yourself," you teased.

"Hey," he said, feigning offense.  "I'm a triple threat.  Actor, dancer… and reluctant singer."

"Right," you said, laughing.

"So," he said, his voice dropping a little. "About the after-party… would you like to go together?"

"I'd love to," you replied, your heart skipping a beat.

He was so kind, a little flirty, and definitely touchy – in a good way.  The connection between you was growing stronger with each passing moment.  The night was young, and the after-party promised even more excitement.

The After-Party

The after-party was a blast. The atmosphere was buzzing with excitement, and you and Pedro were right in the thick of it. You laughed, you talked, you danced.  His hips were so close to yours on the dance floor, the proximity sending shivers down your spine. His hands rested lightly on your waist, just enough to guide you, but also enough to make you feel his touch.

Leaning closer, you whispered in his ear, "I have to say, I'm really enjoying all this… touching."  You let the word hang in the air, a playful challenge in your voice.

He grinned, pulling you a little closer.  His eyes sparkled with mischief.  "Oh, really?  Well, I'm glad. Because I have a feeling I'm going to be doing a lot more of it."

He whispered back, his breath warm against your ear, "Eres irresistible." (You are irresistible.)

A thrill shot through you.  He really did like you.  The feeling was definitely mutual.

"This is fun," he said, after a particularly energetic dance.  "But… I'm thinking something a little more low-key.  My hotel room is just across the street. We could grab another drink, maybe actually talk without shouting over the music.  Interested?"

"Definitely interested," you replied, your heart pounding a little faster.

His Hotel Room

The walk to his hotel was filled with playful banter. You joked about the SNL skit, about his "reluctant" dance moves, and about the crazy after-party.  But as you reached his door, a different kind of energy crackled between you.  He seemed a little nervous as he unlocked the door and ushered you inside.

As he closed the door behind you, a hush fell over the space.  The music from the party was now just a distant thumping.  He turned to you, and you noticed a flicker of nervousness in his eyes.

You stepped closer, your hand lightly brushing his arm. "I had a really amazing night, Pedro," you said softly.  "Thank you."

He leaned closer, his gaze intense.  He cupped your face gently in his hands, his thumbs caressing your cheeks.  "You're incredible," he murmured, his voice husky.  "Absolutely increíble."  He paused, his eyes searching yours. Then, he leaned in and kissed you, a gentle, exploratory kiss that sent a wave of warmth through you.

You pulled Pedro closer, your fingers tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss. Your tongue danced with his, a spark igniting between you. You trailed kisses down his neck, your breath hot against his skin, and began to unbutton his shirt.

He returned the favor, his fingers deftly unzipping your dress, the fabric falling to the floor.His gaze was intense, filled with desire. "Me gustas mucho," he breathed, his voice husky. "You are fucking amazing."

You slipped his shirt off his shoulders, your eyes tracing the lines of his chest. You leaned down and kissed his nipples, eliciting a soft groan from him.

"Mmm," he murmured. "That's… that feels so good."

As you knelt before him, a wave of anticipation washed over you both.

"Your lips are so soft," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Preciosa." He reached out and cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks.

"I’ve been thinking about this all night," you confessed, his eyes locking with yours. "Since Saturday, actually.  You’re… captivating."

You unbuckled his belt, your fingers trembling slightly. You pulled down his boxers slowly, revealing his arousal. His breath hitched as he watched you, his eyes filled with a mixture of desire and vulnerability. "You're… you're breathtaking," he repeated, his voice barely a whisper.

You leaned in and kissed the tip of his cock, you began to suck him gently, your hand caressing his shaft. He moaned, his hands gripping your hair tightly. "Oh, God," he breathed, his voice ragged. "Yes... Dios mío. You feel so good." The room was filled with the sounds of your breath and his soft cries of pleasure.

He pulled you up by your arms and kissed you gently, a soft smile playing on his lips.  Then, with a slow moves he lifted you onto the bed.  You unclasped your bra, and he helped you slowly remove your panties, his touch feather-light and reverent.  He was so gentle, so attentive.

He started to kiss you, his lips tracing a path down your body, teasing and sucking on your breasts.  Then, he moved lower, his tongue exploring your tummy, before finally reaching your most sensitive spot.  He licked your clit, working his tongue with a masterful rhythm that sent shivers of pleasure through you.

"You're so wet for me," he murmured, his voice husky with desire.

"I've been wet since the moment you touched me on the set, Pedrito," you whispered back, your eyes half-closed.

He smiled, a look of pure adoration on his face, and continued his ministrations.  "Oh, God," you breathed, your body arching towards him.  "Fuck, I can't wait anymore.  Please, fuck me."

He moved above you, his eyes locked on yours.  Slowly, he entered you, filling you completely.  He started to move his hips, his movements majestic and controlled.  You felt him deep inside you, your pussy milking his cock with every thrust.

He groans " Oh..fuck...Qué rico se siente." (How good this feels.)"

He started to thrust faster, his rhythm building.  "Fuck," you moaned, your hands gripping his shoulders.  "I knew it… I knew you fucked good… just like you dance…"

"Oh, please, harder, Papi," you begged, your voice laced with desire.

He moved faster, his body a symphony of motion. He leaned down and kissed you, his lips capturing your moans.  "I want you to ride me," he whispered, his voice rough with passion.

He pulled out slightly, just enough to reposition himself.  He sat up on the bed, and you straddled him, your legs wrapping around his waist.  You took him inside you again, slowly, deliberately.

You started to ride him, your hips moving in a circular motion that drove him wild.  "You like this, don't you?" you purred, feeling him pulse deep inside you.  "You like it when I'm in control."

He hugged you tightly, kissing your neck.  "Yes...You're driving me insane, Cariño." (Darling)" he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. "You're everything I've ever wanted."

"I want your cum inside me," you whispered back, your voice trembling with anticipation.  "Make me yours."

You started to move faster, your rhythm intensifying.  He started to breathe heavily, his body tensing. 

"I will," he promised, his voice rough with passion. "I'll make you mine, completely."

"Eres mía....Preciosa" (You are mine..precious.)

You came on his cock, your pussy squeezing him tightly.  And then, he came, his release filling you completely.

He kissed you, gently cupping your face in his hands. 

"Te deseo con toda mi alma." (I desire you with all my soul.)" he murmured.

You kissed him back, your bodies still entwined.  You stayed like that for a long time, wrapped in each other's arms.

Later, you took a shower together.  The mood was light and playful, the intimacy of the moment lingering between you. He was gentle and goofy, his earlier intensity replaced with a relaxed, happy demeanor.

As the warm water cascaded over you both, he pulled you close, wrapping his arms around your waist.  He kissed your forehead, his touch tender. "Eres mi dulce tentación." (You are my sweet temptation.)" he said softly.

"I haven't felt like that in a long time..."

"Me has robado el corazón." (You have stolen my heart.)"

You leaned into him, your head resting against his chest.  "Me neither," you whispered. "You are the most incredible person I have ever met Pedro....You have eyes and that cute smile that hypnotize me."

He chuckled, his chest vibrating against your back.  "I have a feeling this is just the beginning," he said, his voice laced with promise.

After the shower, you dried each other off, the comfortable silence between you speaking volumes.  You wrapped yourselves in towels and went back to the bed, collapsing into each other's arms.

"I'm exhausted," he murmured, his eyes already drifting closed.

"Me too," you replied, snuggling closer to him.

He pulled you closer, his arm draped across your waist.  "Stay with me," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

"I'm not going anywhere," you said, closing your eyes and drifting off to sleep in his arms.

Thank you the reading 💜 Please like, share and comment. Send me your requests and reviews.

I apologize if I made some mistakes. My native language is not English.

I tried my best with the Spanish 🫣

Request by @bonneyzsk Thank you I hope so you are gonna like it. ❣️

[bweeeb]

SWEETNESS

PEDRO PASCAL × READER

Summary: After an interview, the casua thing between you and Pedro ends up making the public suspect that he is not denying someone who is twenty-three years old.

warnings: nothing major, very cute, age difference but both are adults (obviously), bad writing maybe. Enjoy.

— So, according to the recordings, I think we all saw how close you two have become. How has that been?

You and Pedro smiled at the woman, who seemed to be around 35, interviewing you both.

The curiosity in her eyes was obvious.

— I think it’s been time well spent.

Pedro said, laughing and glancing at you, who was already laughing even before speaking.

— I think our characters demanded a connection of...

— Hatred and anger.

Pedro interrupted you, and you laughed loudly.

— Yes. That’s why I’ve been spending the past few months figuring out which tool is best for channeling hatred towards someone.

— Our makeup team has been covering up all the damage we’ve been doing to each other.

Pedro added, and your extravagant laughter made him laugh as well. You two really were doing some damage to each other, but that was your little secret.

— You can clearly see you can’t stand being around each other.

— No, we can’t.

You said with a smile, waiting for the next questio

— And the movie tackles a delicate theme about relationships and age gaps. What made you both accept such controversial roles? Especially you, Pedro...I’m sure you’ve broken all the minds of 20-something girls with this film.

— He definitely has.

— I don’t know what it is with you all nowadays, thinking an old guy like me is attractive. The conversation shifted back to you and Pedro, and the interviewer smiled with amusement. The chemistry between you two was undeniable, even more than you realized.

— Because you’re a man, you give off the feeling of being a man but don’t have to prove it. You know what I mean? You understand me?

You asked the interviewer, who nodded, agreeing that it was indeed a big difference.

— Of course, I’m a man, but an old one.

— Shut up and answer the question.

You said, laughing, as Pedro gave you a mock-offended look in his usual dramatic way.

— Honestly, I wasn’t going to take the role. When I got the audition, I just said, "Nope." But a lot of people kept telling me I’d be the perfect Nick for the book adaptation, and I hate disappointing my fans.

— So you still wouldn’t date someone in their twenties? Maybe?

— No.

Pedro quickly denied it, and you wanted to roll your eyes but didn’t.

— And you, darling?

Nice deflection, you thought, almost laughing at him.

— Ahm, I gave it a lot of thought, especially about the nude scenes I was informed of before accepting the role. I didn’t want to freak out my family. But once I learned more about the characters, I discovered the adaptation was from a book I love, so I couldn’t say no.

— That’s amazing. I heard you even got a real piercing for one of the scenes in the movie. Are you wearing it now?

The question was directed at you, and you smiled painfully, moving your hair away to reveal the piercings you got during filming.

— I added thirds and a helix. Yep, these guys are fine. — You pointed at the piercings farthest from the cartilage. — But I’ll be honest, this one is hurting a lot right now. I was even going to ask if someone could help me after this because it didn’t hurt this much when I got it done.

You laughed, and both the interviewer and Pedro looked at you with concern. Pedro leaned closer, moving your hair from your neck.

— Oh, crap, darling, it’s swollen. You need to take care of this. — He said in such a calm voice that even if the interview ended right then, the audience would already be glued to the screen. — Do you want to stop?

— I’m fine, thank you.

Without even realizing it, you brushed your thumb against Pedro’s wrist, where his hand rested on your neck to examine you.

Later, the interview was posted, and you almost laughed at how fast the channel edited it. Your ear was still throbbing like it was being pierced again, and lying on the couch, you felt like crying—not because it hurt that much, but because you hated the feeling of discomfort in your body.

— Darling?

You heard Pedro call you and looked over the back of the couch to see him smiling at you.

— Now I’ve finally wrapped everything up. No calls. Ugh. — He flopped onto the couch, and noticing your silence, he looked at you oddly. — What’s wrong?

— Nothing.

You denied it, not wanting to worry him.

— Look at me and say that.

He raised an eyebrow and laughed, sitting cross-legged on the couch.

— Nothing.

— Come on, baby, your ear is hurting, isn’t it?

You murmured your agreement. He then places a hand on your neck and places a kiss on your lips, you move closer, deepening the kiss until he pulls you into his chest, on the side that didn’t hurt.

— I’m sorry about this.

— It’s not your fault.

— No, but you seem exhausted by the pain, and I’m sorry for that.

— Thank you. Have you seen what everyone’s saying?

— I haven’t.

— You’re a terrible liar. They’re calling you a liar. You laughed, feeling comforted in his embrace.

— Me? A liar? Yo nunca mentiría.

— You’re a liar and ridiculously hot when you speak Spanish. “Oh, I’d never date anyone in their twenties,” and two seconds later, “And you, darling?”

— What’s wrong with that?

— Friends don’t call friends “darling.” Like, we’re friends who hook up, but you get my point.

You thought for a second and worried you’d sounded over the top in the classification you seemed to be giving you two.

— You’ve been the most argumentative exception I’ve ever made.

He said, and you nodded in agreement.

— I hope I am. I’d hate to find out another young woman took my spot as a legend.

— Legend for what?

— For being the youngest person in the world to hook up with the ridiculously hot Pedro Pascal. You said, and he laughed loudly. You didn’t know how far this would go, but you intended to enjoy the sweetness of that man for as long as it lasted

÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷

I hope everybody enjoy this.

Requests are opened!

[sometimescharlolette]

A MAN A MAN A MAN: Pedro Pascal x reader

Synopsis: You show the trend to your boyfriend and Pedro says he can do it. A/N: Hello pretty people, the video of this trend resurfaced on my TikTok and I thought about writing a cute nonsense with Pedro Pascal. I hope you like it, kisses 💜💜

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You were nestled comfortably in Pedro’s arms, the warmth of his embrace making the couch even cozier. He flicked through channels absentmindedly, the movies passing in a blur as he searched for something to watch. Your head rested on his shoulder, your fingers scrolling through TikTok when a familiar trend appeared on your feed—'a Man a Man a Man.'

The video played, showing a man struggling to lift his girlfriend onto his shoulders before finally succeeding with a confident stance. You grinned, watching the playful chaos unfold. Judging these videos was a guilty pleasure of yours—silly but undeniably entertaining.

"What’s that?" Pedro’s deep voice rumbled beside you, his curiosity piqued as he peeked over your shoulder.

"Oh, it’s a trend where guys try to lift their girlfriends onto their shoulders," you explained, showing him a few more clips.

Pedro pouted, raising a skeptical brow. "And why wasn’t I invited to try?"

You chuckled, caught off guard. "I just figured you wouldn’t want to."

"Nonsense. I always want to do something that makes you smile." He booped your nose playfully, his warm gaze fixed on you. "Now show me again so I know exactly what I’m getting into."

You replayed the video a few more times until Pedro nodded, determined. He stood up, adjusting his stance behind you, his hands already resting on your waist.

"Alright, you give a little jump, and I’ll catch you," he instructed, his grip firm but gentle. You nodded, bending your knees slightly before jumping—not up, but forward. The force nearly sent both of you tumbling onto the couch.

Pedro let out a breathy laugh. "This time, jump straight up, love."

You giggled, nodding as he demonstrated the movement with exaggerated effort. "Got it!"

His hands returned to your waist, and this time, you pushed yourself upward with just enough force. Pedro caught your thighs, hoisting you up onto his shoulders. His cheeks tinged a soft pink as he steadied you, gripping your legs tightly to keep you balanced.

"You did it, love!" You beamed down at him, pride evident in your voice. Pedro, grinning, released one hand to flex his bicep dramatically.

"Baby, baby—" you started, a nervous chuckle escaping your lips as he shifted beneath you.

"Relax, I got this, honey" he reassured, and before you could protest, he spun you around in a slow circle.

"Pedroooo!" Your voice rose in alarm, fingers gripping the nape of his neck as you braced for the inevitable.

And sure enough—he stumbled. His balance wavered, and just in time, Pedro caught hold of you, carefully setting you down onto the couch before he lost his footing completely.He landed beside you with a breathless laugh, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

"Okay… maybe I don’t got this."You burst into laughter, collapsing against him as he wrapped his arms around you once more.

"That was terrifying and adorable all at once."

"Next time, we practice with pillows before" he muttered, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as the two of you dissolved into laughter again.

[dilf-docs]

My Baby's Fit Like A Daydream

husband!pedro pascal x younger!reader

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

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, FLUFF, the empire of bad humor strikes again, hurt/comfort bc all roads lead back to angst, a brief mention of bodyshaming, this is lowkey pwp my bad, dirty talk, fingering, p. in v., bathroom sex ijbol, exhibition kink (they be fucking everywhere but in a bed), degradation kink (he calls her a slut twice), the one and only creampie (twice), so naturally: breeding kink, ALSO pls stop the husband!pedro reqs, i beg. a delulu girl can only take so much 💔

word count: 10,991 words

side note: not one but two requests to be fullfilled! this is as a sequel to call it what you want. also, spam time: i happen to write in wattpad as well, and i have a pedro pascal social media fic going on :) but it's on spanish tho. if u speak the language and would like to tune in, read it here AND spam again but speaking of the ptwt dynamic, why don't we become moots? check my (new) stan twitter account here (i had one in 2022 that i had since 2016 but entered a crisis and deleted it lol)

part: prev | masterlist | next

The news had spread like wildfire.

As soon as you hit the red carpet, hand on hand, rings finally on display―shining under the spotlight, your phone had been blowing up nonstop: every show, podcast, tabloid, news outlet and social media had been talking about it. California had turn into an easter egg playground; everyone was eager to know it all.

(They had found the church where you married, the dress boutique, jewelry shop where Pedro bought the rings―the employees ratted him out, even sharing pictures of the moment, your husband posing with them without knowing of the future treason. They too had found the place where the reception took place, and even the name of the priest who had married you, but he refused to give the hungry press any details. God Bless)

In short, it had been a hell of a week. You figured dissapearing for a while was for the best, but with some interviews still left, that option had been discarded. Still, doesn't mean you couldn't retreat for a couple of days to the tranquility of your home while it was time to show up again. Well, as peaceful as it could get, since reporters were camping near your house and roaming around Hollywood Hills like vultures; the neighbour's nagging was just another layer of problems in your shit cake.

"I'm sorry, Louis. Walks will be postponed for a while" you talk to your cat, but the lazy bastard just stretches and lays down again. "Yeah, I can see you're affected. Don't cry"

"It's not the cat's fault" Pedro emerges from behind, "don't take it out on him"

He takes a sit next to you, two mugs in hand. He gives you the one with a chocolate steam, a souvenir he bought when you visited your home country last summer. You wonder if that's a trip you'll ever be able to make again.

"I'm not. Just- It's horrible that I can't even go outside my own house and walk the same roads I've walked in four years because the press is hidden with cameras in, I don't know, bushes!" you exclaim, quiet rage carried within your words. "It's unfair, really. All I want is to walk my damn cat without a flash up my ass"

Pedro nestles his face in your neck, nose carressing the skin. Giggles leave your lips, the sensation ticklish.

"It'll pass. It always does" he says, voice assuring, probably because he's used to the violation of privacy, but you're not. Getting bigger, is this the price to pay for making a name for yourself and claiming out loud who you love?

"I hope so" you murmur above the quietness of your home, a sound as eerie as fake, devoid of it's tranquil nature as a world of invasion awaits outside.

"Do you trust me?" Pedro speaks, voice unwavering. He holds your gaze, steady brown challening your shaky orbs.

"I do" you speak up, yet you wish you could believe it. You believe in him, there's no question to that, but do you believe in yourself? That the love you'd put out to the world would be treated with the same care and respect you have treated it in secret? For a fleating moment, you miss the secrecy.

"Then trust me this will be over sooner than expected" he presses a kiss to your lips, soft and sweet, feeling remanents of chocolate he licks away, as you mockingly yell ¡Qué sucio! but it's devoid of malice. "In time, this will become another anecdote we'll share with our kids, and laugh with our grandkids when we get older"

You smile, feeling tears in the corner of your eyes. Oh, doesn't he turn you into a pathetic sappy wife?

"Well" you sniffle, giggling to push back the tears away. "About the old part..."

He playfully kicks your side. "Uno ya no puede ser romántico, que le salen con estas cosas. Your generation could use some respect, you know?" (one can't simply be romantic anymore)

Pedro gets up, picking the mug from your hands as both rings brush together, the gold shinning under the morning Californian sun.

"And your generation could take a joke" you quip, lips curled up like you hadn't in weeks.

"Very funny, y/n. Thought you loved me" but then he's pressing a kiss to your temple like kissing you once isn't enough, promising to return after washing down the mugs.

"I do!" you shout to his dissapearing broad frame as he enters the kitchen, and he playfully makes a dissmissing move with his palm.

The laughing dies when your phone chimes next to you.

You shouldn't really, but the curiosity that draws you in is as intense as a magnet. The phone burns on its position, screaming for you to open it, despite being told by your husband that the best was choice was to ignore it until the buzz had died down, but you're afraid the turmoil isn't nowhere to be finished. Comments can be mean, he'd said, they can hurt you. Pedro said he'd learn with time to ignore it, but he was experienced. You weren't, so naturally, as your husband and protector, he wanted to shield you from the pain.

Although, both of your fandoms had been pretty supportive of your relationship, some user even claiming to suspect it, making threads full of easter eggs and connections that validated the theory which was now a reality. I've connected the dots, followed by pictures of you sharing wardrobe, slips on interviews, similar backgrounds in your posts across social media, and of course, the two Gladiator Ii interviews. Many resorted to making edits or screaming over your pictures in the premiere, demanding for more content you had yet caved in to share (there was a gigantic carpet of evidence sitting heavy in your cloud).

So, in a way, this support made it hard for you to truly dimension the hate Pedro warned you about: all you saw was fans being happy and showering you with love, making paparazzi to be the only problem as for now.

That's it.

You cave in, turning the phone on as you bite your lip, searching first your Instagram: a bunch of new followers, many with variations of ispunk on their usernames, as well as a swarm of comments on your recent posts. There's a small voice in your head telling you to turn away, but your thumb moves without thinking, clicking on pictures of the red carpet―a carrousel of you and then a picture of you both at the end, one fans had been gushing about the last couple of days, rings on display, practically up their noses. You were smiling, and Pedro was looking at you fondly, his other hand holding Lux but his gaze never leaving yours; he was too perfect to be real―yours.

You unconsciously smile at the captured moment, love obvious on your faces, so you open the comments, thinking it would be the same support or love radiating of the comment.

But boy, weren't you wrong?

It was all the same, support lost between waves of hate. Variations of bodyshaming, age shaming and even gold digger claims were on full display across the comment section. "She's ugly" "In it for the money, am I right?" "I thought Pedro had better taste, lol" "She got the role in Gladiator II because of nepotism. Or cocksucking" and then a cruel answer that read "Right, threesome with Ridley. Ew, what a whore!"

Worst of it all, some even had Pedro profile pictures, or usernames and accounts dedicated to him.

Your heart was beating like crazy, chest heavy and hollow, face red with emotions you couldn't quite place (embarrasment? fear? rage? sadness?) as you kept searching across Twitter*, doing a quick skim of the trendings that included you. The same hate speech pattern was all over the timeline, some betting for divorce in a couple of years (even months!), while others took their time dissecting your looks and relationship. As if they knew. Long gone were the edits and harmless threads: the hate wave was here to stay. Some where even being a bit racist, the irony of it all, being Pedro himself was latino and didn't shy away from it, rather proud as he didn't miss an opportunity to shot out his dear Chile. Or any social issue, as a matter of fact, very vocal on his political beliefs.

This was fucking ridiculous, and if the cameras were an issue, this swarm of negativity is what really took a toll on you, the flashes as you went grocery shopping now barely a scratch. No, this was worst. All you wanted to do was cuddle in a blanket while wearing one of Pedro's shirts and dissappear. Too much noise. Too much hate. You can feel it creeping up your body, tainting your soft curves, wrinkles, acne scars and face. It's like rough hands, tugging harsh, ripping your vocals because you can't scream; no words to express this pain.

You knew one day it would come, but never imagined the hurt and to what extent people were capable of. Cruelty. Dissecting your life and body like it was a show for them to be entertained: your marriage was a circus and your body a joke.

It hurt their condescending dismiss of your love, questioning as if the gap were only numbers and not a pillar of your relationship that made you and Pedro closer, despite the bridge in age. You were reduced to a middle-age crisis, and he to a filthy man pinning for a younger girl. Your body was turn apart, despite no real flaws existing. Humans are meant to be so, not perfect, but real, and that was the problem: you had turn into an object―a target for their dards to pierce through.

Your body shakes violently with cries, deafening your ears that you don't hear when Pedro walks in.

"Why are you crying?" he rushes to your side, panic on his voice. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

You barely manage to shake your head, and then his eyes scan all over your features, until they land on the phone on your hands. The worry turns to anger as he asks:

"You looked at them, didn't you?"

He isn't yelling, but it would be better if he did. This contained fury, fading into dissapointment, as if you were a naive child scolded by their parents makes you feels small and stupid, as if you knew no better.

"I'm sorry-" you manage to choke out among tears, "I know you told me-"

"I told you" he interrupts, words laced with wrath, "so this wouldn't happen. See what happens?"

"Why are you talking to me like it's my fault?" you yell, and Pedro sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. "I didn't ask to receive all this! Do I deserve the death threats, shame and hate?"

He walks past you, and it's like a slap to your face. Was he going to behave like this? Didn't it matter how you felt, or was it something childish that could be brush to the side like nothing? Insecurities you hadn't even think of come crashing down on you, doubts creeping up and attacking you from all sides. It's horrible. You try to hold onto the good memories, praying you don't loose him. You can't. You just can't.

"Answer!" you demand, tears spilling like a broke dam.

"I was just closing the windows. Or do you want to fuel the talk, huh? Give the hungry hoard more to bite?" Pedro then stands to hold your gaze, and you hate that you can't place his emotions. Anxiety corrodes your brain: was this really the beginning of the end?

"Do I?" you dare to speak up, and even if its loud, it comes out drowned, the exhaustion from the emotional turmoil taking its toll on you. "Do I deserve it?"

"No, you don't, carajo!" Pedro bursts. "You don't deserve any of that, which is why I didn't want you looking at those things!"

He sighs, realizing the anger is misdirected.

"I'm sorry"

Your broken wails are the only thing to be heard. He hates himself for being a part of it, even if not the biggest.

"No, I'm sorry for being so stupid" you sob. "I-I just wanted for people to be as happy for us as I am with you"

"Come here" but he's the one cutting the space to embrace you.

His scent calms a part of you, body still rocking with violent shakes.

"You're not stupid. Nor ugly, or any of those things people are calling you. No, mi amor. You're beautiful, smart and talent. They fail to realize I'm the lucky one. So please, don't be hard on yourself, yeah? I can't bear to see it. Less if I know it's not true. You didn't ask for it; you don't deserve all that bullshit"

He presses a kiss to your temple, arms that hug you tighter holding you close close up to the point his heartbeat melts within your own.

I won't let you go. You won't fall as long as I got you.

"We'll get through this, yeah? Think of the future, and what's to come. It's hard, that I know, but let us enjoy the moment. Life is too precious to waste it away" he brushes stray tears with his thumb, softly and full of love that words aren't enough to express. "I'm here" the out loud, "and I'm not going anywhere. That's a promise"

Later that day, Pedro posts a carrousel of unseens, even one of your wedding (a video of your first dance), telling people to leave you alone. That he loves you, and that no malicious news, fans or comments will ever change that―suck it energy laced within his rageful statement.

Safe to say, in the next weeks, hate is barely a small voice whispering in the back of your neck, one that hushes down with each kiss and/or words uttered by your one and only devoted husband.

mandoshoney: y/n protection squad pull up, we ride at dawn starlightt180: unhing3dprincess WHERE ARE U??? PTWT IS IN SHAMBLES AND NEEDS U MY SHAYLAAAAAAAAAA elysyannemimi: i feel like a kid scolded by their dad. pedro has achieved the ultimate daddy status bobgirlll: is no one going to talk about how rageful/protective pedro sounded in that story????? NEED MORE FERAL PEDRO RN GRRrrrr ps. photos so cute, wish that was me lol pyramiidsf: i hope y/n is okay, ppl can be so cruel sometimes but at least she's got pedro on her side <3 he's such a perfect man :,)

It had been days since your fight.

In an sweet attempt to cheer you up, Pedro had taken you out for dinner to a fancy restaurant you can't remember the name of. If they'll snap pictures of my wife without my permission, I might as well show you off. So, per his petition, you had wore a little black dress that hugged every curve of your body perfectly and pushed your tits to the top. Stunning, he had growled, and it had been hard to push him off as he devoured your mouth in your house's doorstep.

"Let's give them talk" you had agreed.

So now you sat at the restaurant, Pedro filling your cup of wine for the third time in a row, talking about all and nothing: about politics, the weather, your siblings, Louis the cat, upcoming gigs around your home you wanted to go to, how support had risen and the hate had dwindled, the numerous calls of job offers and interviews to keep on milking your relationship... life had never been more hectic.

"You know, maybe the dress was a bad idea" he takes a bite of his meat, tone nonchalant.

"Yeah?" you challenge, cheeks flushed with alcohol, "why's that? I thought I had to look good. What changed your mind?"

"Turns out" he looks at you, gaze piercing through your body, brown warm eyes darkening, "I figured something"

You know your husband. It's still fresh in your mind the first day you took a notice of it: jaw clenching, gaze fixated at nothing and white fists balled up on to the sides, arms swinging while fingers itched. A vein on his forehead would pop, and brows would melt together in a furrow. It happened when you got recognized by a fan, on your early days, and he had taken a picture of you, uploading it to social media. Dating Pedro had been going on for little to five months, and the way this guy hugged you from behind, hand resting above your ass, had made your then-boyfriend see red. His posture stiffened, demeanor changed and face adquired all the characteristics above. There was only one correct answer: Pedro was jealous, so fucking jealous.

So here he is now, jealous to the bone, alcohol increasing the rage.

"And that is?" you push his buttons, something you normally wouldn't do, but you're drunk and God, so sex-starved. His possesive side was always hot, yet now? It had a layer of allure it didn't have before, the idea of calming him down long lost.

"You know what it is" he answers, but you tilt your head to the side, acting confused. Pedro growls, clenching the glass a bit too tight; you fear it'll break.

"No, I don't" you serve more wine in your glass, savouring the liquid. Some spills into your mouth, and you lick it while not breaking eye contact. "Enlighten me"

"Turns out" the words come out strained, a whirlwind of emotions burning in the tip of his tongue, "that I wanted people to look at my wife, but I looked their looks and realized I don't like how they look at her"

He rambles the words out, speech pattern slurred and ideas clashing into one another, clearly drunk.

"I see" you draw out, demeanor calm, but your panties have started to get wet.

"No" he hits the table, making your eyes go wide and people turn to your table. You should be embarrased, but you're only aroused. "You don't see what I see. And I hate it, I fucking hate it" he seethes, words spit out over your unfinished meal.

"Dessert?" the waiter appears from seemingly nowhere, menu on hand.

Pedro doesn't even look when he answers, "Sure. Bring your best"

"The chef's suggestion is Soufflé, a classic dessert from his country"

"That'll do" Pedro looks at you, but his brain seems to be somewhere else. Like he's thinking. "How long will it take?"

The waiter ponders the answer, yet doesn't think any weird of it.

"About twenty to thirty minutes. Would that be alright? Or would you prefer to switch to one of our quick-fixes? They're as delicious as our fresh and-"

"No" your husband interrupts, eyes shinning with something akin to dangerous. "We'll take the soufflé. Just want my wife to eat the very best"

The waiter smiles. "Sure, will be back in a few. More wine?"

Pedro stops the action, removing the bottle's neck from pouring more red liquid in your glass.

"Won't be needed"

They excuse themselves, leaving both of you alone. The restaurant bubbles with chat and instrumental music from a band playing on a corner, but all you hear is his heavy breathing and your heart.

"I wanted more wine" you pout, not even knowing why you said it.

He smiles devilishly. "I'll give you something better than that"

How does it happen, you have no idea, but then Pedro gets up with a brash move, chair making a sound that draws attention. He smirks, his auburn reflecting on the candle glowing in the center with a light that's menacing.

"I'm going to the bathroom" an announcement that feels like a threat that runs through the newfound tension; it could be cut with even a butterknife.

You sit there in silence, too stunned to speak. Your phone chimes in what feels like an hour (it's been a few minutes, probably three). You open the notification, a single text from Pedro.

I'm waiting.

So this was his plan all along, huh? Maybe he's gotten bored of sex on a bed and room like normal couples, because ever since that time you sucked his dick in his trailer, Pedro has shown an appetite for public sex. Well, more like just shown but never done. Guess that changes as of tonight.

I'm coming.

Truth is, after the reveal and fight, you hadn't had sex since that time before the London premiere. Press tour hadn't finished, and the movie was still playing in theathers, but it feels much longer the time you had gone without having his dick rearranging your insides. That changes as of tonight.

You practically leap out of your sit, rushing to the restroom, which is too fancy for your liking. You're unsure how to proceed, and it should be because you realized how stupid and reckless this is, but it's more because you don't know which door Pedro is behind: men or women.

You knock softly on the ladies room first. "I'm here" you speak, voice small.

After a few seconds, a muffled voice from behind replies: "Me too"

You giggle as he pulls you inside, mouth devouring yours in a hot kiss.

"The lock!" you squeal, yet Pedro is busy buring his face between your breasts, pulling the dress down until he's nipping at the skin before licking the spot with his tongue. Your back is pressed against the tiled white wall, cold meeting your now heating skin.

"Mmm, missed this" he mumbles in a drunken state. "Needed my girls so bad"

His words elicit a moan out of you, a way to comunicate that your body too had been aching for this.

"Please, Pedro-" you whimper, trying to get rid of the pretty dress. He doesn't say it, but his movements command for power, big hands dragging your dress down until the black cloth falls to the floor in a sound filled with grace, it feels merciful.

"Black panties? But I thought I was a man with a plan" he groans, calloused digits ghosting over the wet patch in the middle. He smells your arousal off his fingers, and this is so nasty but you're so into it.

"Two can play" is all you answer, eager fingers unbuckling his belt as you unbutton the formal pants and pull them down to his knees, so with his underwear.

"Sure thing" he chuckles darkly. "Just look at you, baby. So loud, but you gotta be quiet. ¿Quieres que alguien entre y te vea así? Fucking slut, begging for my cock" (do you want someone to come in and see you like this?)

He's always been sweet-talking you through sex, and you know he doesn't mean it aside from being lewd words, but you also didn't know you could be aroused by it. Change is welcome, to say the least.

His hard dick is immediately stroking at the apex of your thighs, like he's got no time to loose, kissing you roughly like he hasn't eat and your mouth is his meal.

"Twenty minutes" he grumbles, groaning.

"Or thirty" you add, whining when his cock brushes dangerously close to your dripping folds.

"Can't believe you're this wet already" he chuckles, but it sounds more like a breathy sigh, lost in the inside of your mouth.

"I've been wet since before we left the house and you kissed me"

"And I kissed you" he adds. "No sé ni por qué putas te traje si sólo quería quedarme en casa y comerte" (i don't know why the fuck i took you out if all i wanted was to stay at home and eat you out)

You moan at his dirty mouth, clicking your tongue as a way to say so.

"You dirty old man-" it dies in your throat when he glides inside your folds with ease, a finger slipping in, then two, as he curls them. Your head rolls back, landing against the door with a hollow thud.

"Dirty? But you enjoy this, don't you?" his fingers buried up your hilt. Your eyelids flutter, whimpering drowned by your lips, bitten so deep you think you start to taste blood. "Bad news, mami. You're as dirty as me"

You choke in your words. "No-"

"No what?" Pedro mocks, sliding his digits out of you and shoving them inside his mouth, sucking on them while looking at you. You whine at the display and loss of them, knowing he's tauting you for fun. "Don't tell me you don't want someone to come in here and see you acting like a dirty slut? To see you almost coming here and now with just two of my fingers"

"Fine. What if I want to, huh? Just give me your damn cock already and quit teasing"

Words were lewd, but Pedro smiles with adoration.

"That's my girl"

His length springing free to slap against his now smooth stomach, your mouth drooling.

"Sit"

He glares back, "in the toilet?"

"Well, do you happen to see a couch or bed?" you quip. "That's right: you were the one who chose the bathroom, desperate old man. So needy, aren't you?"

You see your husband turning around, ashamed, and you laugh. "I didn't think it through" and you avoid to add a that's quite obvious snarky type of reply.

"Want me as much as I do?" Pedro doesn't protest anymore, grunting some spanish curses before sitting on the cold surface. "Good. Then comply"

You swing a leg over his lap, not afraid if the thing breaks, dragging your wet folds against his cock. He moans, gripping your thighs hard, biting at your lower lip to hide a growl that seems to erupt from deep within his chest.

"Gonna ride you, baby. Is that okay?" you take the lead, and Pedro gets frustrated that you're taking up a plan that was originally his. Despite such, he just finds himself nodding wordlessly like a fool.

You line up, desperate to have him inside of you. But you go slowly down, taking his size, maybe because you're drunk or because you'd never fucked in a bathroom before. Because, really, how will you even try to explain your PR team a broken bathroom?

You gasp as he bottoms out, struggling to catch your breath with the relentless push. His strong arm cages your waist, as he moans in your ear, bodies going up and down in sync. His slides are smooth across his length, helping you find your pace.

"Fuck" you whimper, legs starting to shake. "I think I-"

"I know" he interrupts you, a quick kiss to your earlobe. "It's okay; I've got you, linda"

He thrusts upwards, toilet creaking as Pedro keeps you in place.

You bury your teeth into his shoulder to muffle your moans, skin slapping against skin loudly, his movements becoming faster. The pressure keeps on adding, until the tightness on your walls is too much, and you're collapsing over his chest, folds spasming as he empties his load inside of you, seed deep in your walls, dripping down your legs.

"Oh, shit" you gasp, "Pedro!"

"Perdón!" he shouts, then covers his mouth. "Mierda, no quise ser tan ruidoso. Ay, carajo. Didn't want to spill all over you-" (sorry! didn't mean to be so loud. oh, fuck)

"There's a sink" you start, "and toilet paper. We'll manage"

"Right" he looks at his watch, "we got about ten minutes"

You smile, cheek resting against the warm skin of his neck. "If the chef took the whole thirty"

"There's only one way to find out" he gasps for air. "Pero, ¿no estás llena? Still up for dessert?" his big hand finds it's way to your tummy, you still contentedly stuffed full of him. It lingers, and when you look into his eyes, he averts his gaze, ashamed of whatever he thought. (but, aren't you full?)

"After this, I need some sugar to make it home" your eyelids drop. "I'm starving"

He presses a loud kiss to your head, "that's my girl"

"Yours" you pull back to rest your forehead against his. "Just yours"

He jolts forward, capturing your mouth in a hot kiss, and you smile into it.

"Good. Now, I'll give my good girl what she deserves" he takes some toilet paper to clean his spilling load out of you, kisses running from your face to neck. Then, gently so, lets you dress in again, exiting the bathroom first to give you some cleaning up space. When you come back to your table, the Soufflé is there.

"Eat" he commands, voice thick and rough. You smirk, giving it a bite as you look into his eyes: hair disheveled, puffy lips and droopy eyes. The bite mark seems to shine, or maybe you need to lay down for a while. "Y no mires atrás, ¿sí? We got ourselves a crowd" (don't look back, yeah?)

That night, you upload a story with a picture of the dessert with a caption that reads: best meal I've ever had. The context is lost until news of your bathroom affairs hit headlines next morning, but you don't notice: your phone happens to be dead, and you're too busy getting railed in what could count as round two to charge it.

pompeiianbollockr: hello just woke up and saw the pictures WTF TMZ??? did they really do #that 😭 bring back public shaming unhing3dprincess: i bet my grandma they fucked in that fancy ass restroom ㅤㅤmostannoyingbillioner: unhing3dprincess QUEEN U ARE BACK 😭 BETTING UR GRANDMA AGAIN? OH IKTR WE WERE LOOSING THE ANCIENT TEXTS poppysplayground: ohhhhh they're so nasty (do u want a third) ㅤㅤann-gell: poppysplayground fr like INVITEN

The interview for Entertainment Weekly's behind the cover for Gladiator II was supposed to just include Paul and Pedro, but taking advantage of the free publicity and buzz your announcement made, they added you. Especially after the news about your restroom affair had hit, courtesy of TMZ; the rumor wasn't taken into account in the beginning, but now added gasoline to the gossip fire. Just what the movie needed: free promo.

You're sat in the middle of the two men, dressed in white as well, to match their attires with a flowy dress that loosely resembles that of Rome's. Then, Paul begins to speak.

"I saw the film for the first time when I was about 13 with my dad" he talks about the original movie.

"I saw it in the movie theater when it came out" you imagine a young Pedro lined up to see Russell Crowe's magnetic performance and let out a small smile. "I saw it twice, because of how emotional the movie was. Obviously it's incredibly visceral, and epic and the kind of movie you rarely get to see made, uh, these days"

You look at him, elbow resting on the arm chair as your body is all turned to his side. Truth is, you love listening to him, especially when he seems so invested, love for the subject rooted in each word.

Pedrito, you'd affectionally call. Ésto es una conversación, no un monólogo. And he'd blush embarrased, only for you to laugh it off, saying you would turn mute if that meant for him to continue speaking. (this is a conversation, not a monologue)

"It had an impact emotionally. I remember that, I guess, sadistically I was drawn to a second time go back again because, weirdly, it was very comforting. I remember it perfectly came out in year 2000. Right?" he asks, and Paul and you agree with a yeah. "I can remember what theater I was in and everything-"

"What theater was it?" Paul interrupts his passionate talking.

Pedro stops, "It, uh-" he rambles, before you all laugh.

"What about you, y/n? Were you even born?" Paul jokes, making you roll your eyes at his antics and deliberate desire to keep nagging you like some older annoying brother.

"I was like, born a year after you, Paul. But I didn't watch the movie until I was fifteen" you feel the gaze of both men fall upon you. "The first Ridley Scott movie I watched was Thelma and Louise, as you all know. Then my dad insisted I should watch it, and finally, at fifteen, when I had given up on my dreams to go on one last epic trip to the Grand Canyon, he played it. My eyes, they were, like, glued to the screen. I couldn't stop thinking about it for a while" you leave a small lingering touch on Pedro's arm, "just like he said: epic and emotional. Also, I had a huge fat crush in Joaquin Phoenix that lasted until I was twenty"

"That was like, seven years ago!" Pedro yells, making Paul snorts. "I feel deceived"

"Qué dramático. We're both married, you big baby!" you laugh, then make a joke before the next conversation starts: "You wouldn't think he plays an epic Roman General, would you?" (how dramatic)

They film some shots of you and the boys before moving to the next talk.

"I was doing a play in London at the time. I'd met with Doug and Lucy who are the producers of the film in LA, and then a zoom was set up and I spoke to Ridley for about 5 minutes about what Gladiator was going to be about. And then we spoke for the next 25 minutes about like, gaic football and dogs, and then I thought we'd do like camera tests and- but no, he just-" he shrugs. "I found out about two weeks later"

Now it's Pedro's turn.

"I knew that the project existed. I knew that Paul was doing it. I think it started with an actual like meeting with Ridley to go and sit down with him and I, whether or not the movie was going to happen for me or not, I was like I'm going to go meet Ridley Scott" he jokes, making you both chuckle. "It wasn't even about getting the job, it was like I'm going to go and sit down maybe five minutes, ten, twenty, as many minutes as I can"

"It was in LA" you speak up, "in his offices"

"Yeah, and thankfully he was willing to talk about all the things I wanted to know about, in terms of other movies, and that's what it really turned into"

"He's a wonderful Storyteller" Mescal compliments. "You could sit down with Ridley for-"

Pedro makes a joke, speaking over him. "Give me another one, give me another one-"

You still kind of hate the guy after his supposed comments on your husband's weight, but won't talk bad about a man who gave you work and your biggest role to the date yet, so you explain how it happened to you.

"I wasn't even planned to appear on the movie. As a matter of fact, my character was squeezed in last minute. Ridley is, just as they said, indeed, a storyteller" you smile. "The truth is, I worked with Cuba, his granddaughter, on a proyect together, a photography one. I was in London at the time, auditioning for a movie, when we met"

"London?" Paul asks.

"Yes" you laugh, ashamed. "I traveled to London with some of my savings, because you know what they say about not doing and then regretting. But I do regret it; I cried for my money to be back!"

"You didn't get the part" Pedro adds, barely containing a snicker.

"I didn't" you sigh, "Cuba saw me sitting alone on a café, eyes red with tears of failure and talked me into capturing such vulnerable moment. She didn't know me but made my day better, and she took some of the most beautiful pictures I've seen of myself. So, in a way, I won. I mean, she's the reason I got the role: my name came up on a phone call with Scott, as I had already made a name for myself, and showed him the pictures. He got in contact with my agent and I got the role after auditioning. Call that friendship nepotism"

"Didn't Pedro tell you about it? I find it funny that he was in the movie and didn't get you in" Paul comments, curiously.

"We were supposed to remain a secret, and the sudden connection when we had barely interacted according to the public, would've been weird. So no, Pedro rubbed his role on my face and then I came home with the new script as he received his. We both won our roles separately, and until we got it both, we realized just what it would mean"

"But now we're here" Pedro speaks fondly, taking your hand. "Rome conquers it all"

You can only hold his and stare back lovingly.

"Oh" the Irish man feigns disgust, "don't get all lovey dovey on me!"

The topic changes again, as Paul speaks.

"We meet early in the film, and this is again kind of Ridley's genius. He shoots it in a way that it feels plausible, but in like- the real action of that there's no way-"

They start talking ovwe each other excitedly about the process of filmaking, Pedro listing all the settings were the epic action takes place.

"We lock eyes" Pedro jests, "we lock eyes"

"All right" Paul plays along. "Three, two, one"

"i'm right here" you say, pushing your body to the front. "You got me third wheeling in my own marriage"

Paul laughs, breaking contact.

"Time for you to get a taste of your own medicine. You've made the rest of this press tour unbearable!" he protests, but his tone is devoid of complain.

"Marcus Acacius represents like-" Mescal then speaks about your husband's character, "he's a Roman general"

"No, he is the general of Rome" you correct, smirking.

"Be careful, princess. Don't let the emperor see you all over his General" the blue-eyed man next to you mocks, and you roll your eyes again.

"Will you ever let me live?"

Paul then talks about his character. "I'm like a lieutenant in the numidian Army. I kind of see Acacius as this, he- he represents everything that I hate about, uh, the Roman Empire"

"Well, the Roman Empire is expanding and expanding" Pedro takes the word, "and invading Numidia just to gain more and more power, and we realize that there really is kind of no ceiling to the lust of that power"

"And that's to do with the Emperors, right? Like, played by Joe and Fred who are wonderful" Paul adds, complimenting both actors in the process. "And let's not forget our Empress too"

You make a face at that, feeling in the need to defend your character.

"Empress Alba is tragedy. I think she embodies well the feelings of helpnessless all women felt during that time. She's an object, another shiny possesion subjected to her husband's amusement, so she drowns in all pleasure available to forget her existence. Lucius hates her because he sees all the filth of Rome in her, like, this whole debauchery and squandering while the people beg for scraps. But it's a pattern seen across history, isn't it?" you pause. "I think it's interesting to compare her to Lucilla, because she's loved by the people, seen as human- despite being noble. It's sad because it's until too late that Lucius realizes she's a victim of the system he hates"

Pedro smiles at your little intervention, loving the way you explain a character you'd play so graciously. One of your favorite movies is Marie Antoinette, by Sofia Coppola, so probably it felt personal to you in some level. God, hadn't you made him watch it at least ten times?

"It unravels through the film that I've kind of miscalculated who I think Acacius is, just as with Alba" Paul comments.

"His character misunderstands my character just like Paul misunderstands us" Pedro quips, making both of you laugh.

"Then it kind of culminates in a big fight that we have in the-"

"Doesn't it always?" you add. "Wouldn't be an epic without it"

"Do you want to talk about it?" Paul dares, jokingly.

"No we're not talking about it" he cuts him off.

"Who's the better fighter'" Paul asks after some silence. Pedro dares him with a go on.

"I would say I'm better the better share. What you think?"

"I would say Lucius is the better fighter"

"Lucius is the better fighter" Pedro repeats slowly, incredulous. "Do you want us to fight? Lucius is a better fighter than the general of Rome, who survived decades and conquered" Paul tries to defend himself but Pedro doesn't let him. "I fight four men before I get you, and I call it off!"

"Yeah, but I think if you hadn't called it off -"

"You don't think I would have do some sort of mature aged learning-"

They end up discussing a bit more until you clear your throat.

"Why don't you ask for a third party to break your tie?" and you point towards yourself, mouthing a cute me with your painted pink lips.

"No!" Paul immediatly opposes, "It would be biased, silence her!"

"Have you seen Acacius' arms?" you gauge Pedro's arms, biceps flexing under the white attire. "It definitely isn't biased, at all"

The conversation carries on after some more shots. In some, you pose seriously, but in between such, you laugh along with them, Pedro even hugging you and Paul from behind in one of both. No kisses yet, but you know fans will be rabid just with the lingering touches and flirty undertones in your interactions.

"We began together in Morocco, and I think seeing that set and the scale of the production so quickly, desensitized me to the scale of the of what- Malta was in the Coliseum, and Ridley moves at such a pace, which I actually think really helped me because you don't have time to kind of sit there and and kind of bask in the wonder of it" Paul talks. "Because you're shooting three or four scenes, build your expectations of how to meet the size of, it or anything 'cuz 'cause it's impossible" Paul looks at Pedro and asks: "and I think Ridley; did I tell you what Ridley said first day of shooting to me? He came out to the tent while they were dressing the set, thousands of extras, everything fire, camels and he comes in, and he's- he's smoking a cigar, and we're all stood around and he's like Are you nervous? and we're all like No and he slaps me on the back and goes Your nerves are no good to me, before we filmed anything. But I think it was like- it's funny, but it's this idea that this is your playground, and you have to kind of step into it and own it. So, I-I don't actually really remember my first walking into the Coliseum, 'cause I feel like I lived in the Coliseum for about three or four weeks"

"You lived in the Coliseum of your mind" Pedro quips, making Paul laugh.

"I do remember, you know, when I first walked into the Coliseum, you know. It- it gave me chills. Like, literally chills. Look! I still get the goosebumps" you point your arm. "Honestly, all of it felt just too real, and I couldn't help but for a moment, think I actually was in Rome- that I belonged to nobility"

Pedro takes your hand and kisses it gently. "That's because you do, princesa"

"One of the things that I have never experienced on a movie before, is that there was so little left to the imagination" Pedro expresses. "Me and the rest of the ensemble are together in the emperor's box, and there's this enormous battle that's taking place, and Ridley composed all of the off camera for us in the emperor's box, with Paul leaping from one ship to another taking two men down what would you call that?"

"A cloth line flying" Paul answers.

"Clothes line?" you try.

"A flying- a flying clothes line" Pedro decides, carrying on "just so that we could know what we were looking at. I couldn't f*****g believe it"

"That's true" you remark. "The result goes so hard- I mean, it looks amazing" you sheepily laugh. "The action, the violence, the epic... it all shines through. It just- it makes sense"

The conversation shifts again.

"The legacy of the first film is so profound, and has such a strong place in so many people's, like, hearts and minds, it's inescapable, but I was looking at it- and I was like" Paul shares. "The screenplay does a lot of that work for you in terms of like, the rubbing the dirt between the hands. the kind of DNA and the genetics that Lucius inherits. I remember reading the script and there's like, a moment in the script where it's Lucius puts on the breastplate and it's written like Lucius now becomes Maximus"

"But Lucius, despite being a son, is also a man" you counter. "He isn't Maximus"

Paul agrees.

"I kind of tried to park that to one side, because ultimately, where Lucius is coming from at the start of the film, he has a very different journey than Maximus does, and I was hoping that whatever DNA- and even just the physical gestures, was going to be one part of- a kind of small part of the performance" he explains. "What I tried to do is figure out exactly who Lucius was and where those differences lay between Lucius and Maximus"

"One of the things that I loved most about my character is that he's introduced in the beginning of the movie, in this very epic battle sequence, that I think in its own way homages the first film" Pedro shares. "But even better, because we follow him back to Rome and discover his direct connection to one of the only characters that is living and with us from the first movie, and I loved being a a kind of thread, an invitation, into what we know from the first movie by being Connie Nielsen's man"

Paul looks at you silently, before poking your side: "Someone is real quiet with that comment"

You narrow your eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about"

"I am Connie Nielsen's man as Marcus Acacius, but as Pedro Pascal, I'm all y/n's"

Your face goes red at how easily you are to be understood, your husband answering just what you wanted to listen.

"Ha! Look at your face, I was right!" Paul ridiculises you.

But after such an embarrasing moment, he shifts the conversation again.

"There's a moment where Pedro has this, uh- it's so clever from a- from an acting standpoint, but also in the in the script like, you see this brutalizing Force come into Numidia, and there's this section where there's the burning of the bodies, and that it's one of my favorite shots in the film" Paul muses. "It's this closeup on Pedro, when he says Vae Victis to the conquered, and you feel like it's a really difficult thing to communicate in one line, that you see: Oh, this General is, kind of wearing this responsibility with great difficulty and shame"

"I wasn't doing that at all" your husband deadpans. You stiffle a giggle.

"You were very good in it" Paul argues back with a smile.

"That wasn't what I was playing" he insists, serious but Paul asks What were you playing? and you all laugh.

"If I had a favorite scene, I'd say it'd be naval fight" you mention. "The colliseum is filled with water, and it's this- it feels like a thing that has never been done before, and with the people cheering and the buzz, and the announcement and echo of the drumming, it's as if you were there, in the crowd. The tension is palpable, the violence is thrown at your face but the scariest one, is the one that lies underneath. Uh, Lucius character tries to attack the General while we, you know, the royals and especial guests, are sitting at our box, and he gets so close, it serves, I think the bottom climbing the ladder to bite the ankles of the top. Obviously, that before we know who Lucius actually is, but I think it's kind of cool"

The interview is ending, the last of your twelve-minute conversation being filmed now.

"I am really excited for everyone to see Paul" Pedro beams, making the younger one laugh. "I'm sorry but it has to be said. You are sensational in the movie" then adds, "and pretty easy on the eyes"

"Everyone in this movie is easy in the eyes" you quip, looking at your side. Pedro coughs a bit before speaking again, even if a faint blush is coating his cheeks.

"-And he worked so hard, and I got to see that happen like, in front of me, and on the day and just lead with Ridley, this enormous crew and this enormous cast... To get to see that, on the big screen, is really exciting and I think people are going to- they're going to love it"

"That's very kind" you exclaim softly with a smile, then add. "I'm sure of it, especially if you were a fan of the first. Both are very interwined, although each film is its own thing" you comment.

"For a lot of us, the actors, we haven't worked on a film on that scale" you violently shake your head "and I think, there's a little bit of trauma bonding that went on with, kind of having to- kind of feel like, total impostor syndrome within it all. But to see your friends operate at that level on a film of that scale, doing like incredible work. I think, across the board, I haven't seen a film on this scale for a long long time rhat's rooted it has the scale and the performances, and I personally think it's one of Ridley's greatest pieces of work"

senhoritamayblog: y/n was SO REAL holding pedro's arm and talking abt how he'd beat paul bc he's beefy ME WHEN moltisantiii: you know what i think ridley's greatest piece of work is? giving us this trio youlooklike-clarabow: y/n is truly a princess 🥹 i don't know if i want to be y/n to be with pedro or pedro to be with y/n ㅤㅤann-gell: youlooklike-clarabow well, she's the people's princess after all!

You haven't even left the room when Pedro is all over you, kissing your neck on that sweet spot of yours that elates a little breathy whine. Doesn't he know you well?

"What are you doing?" you manage to squeak out as his needy big hands grope your body, flesh soft under the flowy white dress. He grunts when he catches your panties, embarrasingly wet already at just a few sloppy kisses and eager touches.

"What do you think?" he whispers against your ear as you both try to walk away from where voices can be heard, and then Pedro is guiding you to a room, closing the door behind him. If he was able to walk to the room while kissing you, he must've seen it in a passing. Had your husband plan this all along? Greedy needy old man.

"What I think, baby, is you're forgetting something" you push him off, giggling. He makes a little pout, making it hard to keep your ground. "Now that everyone knows we're married and we suddenly both go misteriously missing at the same time, they'll just put two and two together. I mean, does it really take a smart person to figure it out?"

Pedro doesn't back down, still caging your frame against the locked door.

"So?" his annoyed and tense voice only makes you laugh more. That turned on was he? Pedro seems annoyed at your fit of laughter, his pants tight.

"What do you mean so? We almost got caught by Paul last time!" you chuckle amused. "And, are you seriously going to pretend TMZ didn't air our bussiness just about last week?"

"Well, maybe you should've thought about it before" he goes back at the task of attacking your mouth, words spewing in between hungry kisses. You mouth a little taunting innocent looking Before what? and then Pedro is talking while his gaze is glued to yours, tightening his arms around you, and the answer is just about that. "You should've thought about it before getting all flirty with me, grabbing my arm in front of the camera like the naughty girl you are. So fucking needy you can't hide it for a few hours, can't even go through an interview without touching me, looking at me, being possesive at a fictional marriage even" your face burns hot with embarrasment at that. Oh, was he being nasty on purpose? Why bring that up? "Haven't I taught you manners?"

It's hard to force yourself to hold his gaze while standing still. Taunting. Defiant.

"José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal" you chastise, "do you want people to know we are raw dogging in the dressing room? That's the manners you so badly talk about"

His face goes red, his demostrations stopping for a bit as he studies your now serious face.

"Wait, do you want to raw dog in the dressing room?" he gasps at the boldness in your words, which, to be fair, is kind of exaggerated, as you both have said worst stuff before. "That's not what I had in mind"

"That's not?" you arch an eyebrow. "Oh, no. Absolutely not. You can't just kiss my neck greedily and touch my body eagerly like a goddamn starved horny idiot, and then expect me to not act up on it, you old man"

There's silence before he speaks up again. "Y/n, you talked about manners"

You take a deep breath in, making sure the door is actually locked.

"Well, fuck them manners"

You capture his lips on a hungry kiss, same kind of force you had made fun of him, just minutes ago. He's pushing his tongue inside of you, as his hands move up to your shoulders and back down to your waist. You rub yourself against him, looking for some kind of friction, and his big calloused hands pulls your waist closer in an attempt to do the same.

"Manners maketh man" he's reciting, and such stupid proverb and line from one of his old works shouldn't turn you this much. Pedro lifts up the dress until your body is devoid of the cotton, murmuring about how unfair it was for you to taunt him with translucent cloth, tender flesh hiding under the white. So hard to focus on interviews, mami, when you're close to me or something like that, as you're too lost in the fire. No bra? Fuck, baby. Do you want to kill me?

"Sofa" you command, eyes darting to the furniture so you can show him where. "Now"

You take off your panties in a go, revealing the slick that's just a few seconds from running down your legs.

"I see, my legs won't be the only thing drooling" you mock his agape mouth. He takes off the blazer with shaking hands, sitting as you get on top of him. Pedro kisses his way down your neck, sucking on the skin. How will you get out of here without comfirming suspicions? Surely, there must be something inside here that could be of help.

"Well, I've wanted to do this for a while" he mumbles against the now red patches of before honey-ed skin. Again? you think.

"Have me or fuck again in public?" you ask out loud, and even if you're laughing, there's a layer of fondness in your voice. "I'm starting to wonder if you have an exhibition kink, papi"

He breathes a little no before biting right above your collarbones, his tongue then releaving the pain with a wet slick move over the flesh as you let out a whine.

"Busy schedule, mami. A husband's gotta find a way to make time for his pretty wife, even if it means fucking her in the goddamn dressing room" he says into your ear. Pedro had done more interviews than you, and between that and filming for his other projects, he's right. "So what if they find out? Need them to know who you belong to. I'm just a devoted husband, will you punish me for that?"

You caress his face, pristine hair now disheveled, the gel succumbing to the heat and sweat trapped in the room.

"Look at you, naughty boy. El burro hablando de orejas" you laugh, "but of course I won't. Need you too so bad" (look who's talking)

His finger wanders down to your pussy, big hand roaming around the area. His middle and ring finger run over it, the golden band starting to shine with your arousal. Fuck, that just made you wetter.

"Shit, baby. You're so eager... wasn't lying when you talked before"

"Needed you since you kissed me today, when you woke up" your teeth grit at his lingering digits. "Your dick rubbed against my bare thigh, fucking hard"

Truth is, you're always horny; being married to Pedro Pascal does that to you. But mornings? Waking up to that handsome face and girthy dick? You really be testing yourself sometimes.

"Jesus, mami" he whistles. "So fucking dirty, thinking about me all the interview because my morning wood grazed your skin, you dirty naughty girl"

Pedro finally slides his fingers inside of you, making you squirm under his gaze as your back archs. "So fucking beautiful, can't believe you're all mine" he moans and you squeeze his shoulders, nails digging and bruising his skin under the shirt that sticks to his skin, body heating up like a furnace.

"Please, Pedro" you plead, lip biting your under to supress a whimper. "Please curl your fingers, need to have you- feel you inside. Fuck-"

Your words cut off as he moves his fingers with learned ease, his thumb rubbing your clit as a treat.

"Mmm" you murmur with pleasure, back arched again, your tits too dangerously close to his face. Without much thought, he licks your nipple and then devours the whole breast with his mouth. All while looking at you, this absolute horndog. Your nails dig in deeper as you pronounce his name in a shaky exhale. Wanting more. Begging for more.

"Mmm? That's right" his palm on your waist squeezes lightly, more pressure on his grip. "Can't speak 'cause I'm making you feel so good, huh?"

You don't answer, instead throwing your head back, nails digging deep to the point he winces, making a face by the pain. You mouth an apology, but then he licks your nipple again, and teeth move to your nibble your earlobe―you're not sorry anymore.

"S-stop" you choke out, body shivering.

"What? Can't take what you asked for? No muerdas más de lo que puedes masticar, niña mala. Bad girl" (don't bite off more than you can chew, bad girl)

His lewd words elicit another moan out of you.

"I-I can. In fact, I want- no, need more. I don't want to cum on your fingers" you whisper in his ear, hot breath probably why he shivers. "Pull down your pants, pretty boy, because I want to cum on your dick"

"Fuck, mami. What a dirty mouth" he moans.

Eager hands try to lower his pants as your fiddle with the same feel, the borrowed wardrobe struggling to get off in the current position. His underwear goes next, and you squirm as he aligns his tip with your dripping entrance.

You moan and he grunts, as his dick enters your tight folds, sounds clashing onto each other as so do your bodies, fitting perfectly. His hands travel from your waist to ass, his head against the back of the sofa, your hands that were before on his shoulders now on his chest.

"Such a pretty view you're giving me, wifey" he tries to laugh, but the sound comes out strained along each powerful stride of his cock that buries inside of you, each bouncing harder, his hands pathethically running over your ass, back, hips, and legs, as his eyes devour the way your tits jiggle with each thrust, tongue burning with desire to suck on the skin again. "So beautiful, and all mine. Only mine. Mía"

His words drip with devotion and wordship; all the love in the world. Pedro calls you beautiful, goddess, and a string of spanish words crossed with adoration. Mami. Linda. Princesa. Diosa. Hermosa. It has your orgasm looming over, head spinning and pussy stretched, walls tightening.

"I'm close" you whisper, riding him with soft-paced movements as his turn sloppy.

You see stars, walls almost kicking his dick out as you coat it in your slick, arousal dripping down until it's coated his balls and smeared the white attire. Fuck. Now Pedro's moving his waist, hunting for his own orgasm.

"Me too" he breathes out, "stay with me"

His hands travel sloppily to your waist, lazily holding you still with his calloused digits.

"Quick, baby" you breath out, "I'm sensitive"

"I'm almost there. Just hold on a little longer" then a whine before shakily pleading. "Please, please, just wait for me"

You move your hips slowly, aroused by his needy pleads, robbing a moan out of him. "Cute" you praise, making his cheeks redden with sweat and blush.

He is cute: hair messed up, mouth red and puffy, and brown puppy eyes.

"I love you so much" Pedro let's out, and it sounds like a confession, despite being married for so long.

"I know, baby, I know" you reach for his face, removing some sweat beads from his forehead, and he leans on the touch, closing his eyes as another gutural growl erupts from his chest. "I love you too"

You keep on riding until you feel his dick twitch inside of your walls.

"We need to stop doing this" you pant out.

"Too late for that, bonita. At least no one found out this time" Pedro laughs. "But you like the talk, don't you? Gonna give 'em something to talk about" he pants, "will fill you up so good you won't be able to walk without my seed spilling from you" sweat beads from your face fall onto his. He obscenely licks the salty drops. "Te voy a dar tantos hijos, que no cabrán en la casa. That way they will know you're mine" (will give you so many kids, they won't fit in the house)

You moan loufly, folds now coated on thick ropes of hot cum, as his movements come to a stop, slowing down until all that can be heard is your uneven breaths trying to recover.

And on cue, there's a knock at the door. Shit. You both remain silent, as if it would stop, but the knocking turns persistent.

"Pedro, I know you're in there"

It's Paul freaking Mescal, again. You might just have to invite him next time if he keeps showing up like that.

"Should I go?" Pedro whispers, and you shrug, stating it would be weirder to pretend he wasn't if Paul knew he was. "How do I look?"

You eye him up and down, eye glistening with dissaproval, red cheeks giving away your thoughts as if the furrowed eyebrows and ashamed gaze didn't already.

"We are fucked"

"No" he giggles, "we just fucked"

"That's not funny!" you roll your eyes, playfully smacking his chest. "Please, look into the mirror and try to fix yourself a bit. If not, we're doomed to be remembered as a horny couple. Oh, we were going so well! Fans will make fun of us and the press will call us horndogs" you lament, exaggerating your voice.

"Oh, shush. We wanted to be able to be in public. This is what it feels like"

You blush. "Maybe we can reduce the public aspect a bit..."

Pedro snorts before doing a quick fix to his appearance, walking to the door where Mescal patiently waits behind. Oh, of course; that little fucker. After the TMZ news dropped, he connected the dots and know that whatever happened in that trailer when Pedro told him to fuck off, wasn't holy at all. Now, he's probably laughing or scheming.

"Paul!" Pedro opens the door. "W-what's up?"

The younger man does a quick scan of his friend, barely able to hide a laugh.

"Looking radiant, my friend" he answers with a shit-eating grin. "They need to do some re-shootings. Have you happen to seen y/n? She just keeps dissappearing when you- oh, when you do!" he mocks. "Well, if you ever happen to find y/n, tell her you both need to get a good fix unless y'all want to show up on TMZ again. I'm pretty sure you can find something in this dressing room to cover those marks, yeah?"

He finally breaks down laughing in front of Pedro's shocked face.

"Ah, you guys are the absolute worst" he folds in a fit of laughter, "so fucking horny you end up fucking in bathrooms and dressing rooms!"

Your voice can be heard from inside as you growl, face red with fury and shame:

"Hijo de puta" (son of a bitch!), "don't make me bring Daisy Edgar-Jones into this!"

l-u-n-a-m: they're just milking their relationship atp for promo but i'm not complaining need more pictures of the photoshoot NOW vnightx: istg if they don't stop flirting in front of my single ass face. i need a gun at0michips: have i gone insane or does pedro have love bites ㅤㅤmybritishstyle: MI HIJO DOES NOT HAVE LOVE BITES. HE JUST FELL DOWN THE STAIRS

*i'm never gonna call twitter as X. it's still twitter, and will always be. fuck that ugly bigot filthy billionaire hoe called elon-trump-cocksucker-musk.

[itsaintmebabe]

the space between us

summary: when joel wakes up to find y/n missing, panic sets in as he fears the worst

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

notes: i love joel, let me know if you guys like it! i would love to take any requests you have too! <3

The first thing Joel noticed when he woke was the quiet.

It wasn’t the usual soft hum of the house or the far-off sounds of Jackson waking up around them. It was too still. He blinked, reaching out instinctively for you, but the bed beside him was empty, the sheets cold where you should’ve been. His heart skipped a beat.

“Y/N?” he murmured into the dark, but only the silence answered.

His chest tightened. Without thinking, he threw off the covers and hurriedly grabbed his jacket and boots, rushing outside. The cold morning air hit his skin like a slap, but it didn’t cool the heat building in his chest. The world around him was too still, too empty. Every step felt like it weighed a hundred pounds.

“Y/N?” His voice cracked as he called out, scanning the empty streets.

He made his way toward the community center, walking faster now, the panic gnawing at him. The fear of losing you was building again, crawling up his spine, but he wouldn’t let it take over. He couldn’t.

And then, he saw you. You were standing near the far side of town, with Tommy and Maria, your back turned to him. The relief hit him all at once, but he didn’t stop. He rushed over, the breath in his chest uneven, his feet moving faster than his mind could catch up.

“Y/N,” he called out, his voice hoarse.

You turned, startled at the sound of his voice, and then your eyes met his. A small smile began to form, but before you could say anything, Joel was there, pulling you into a tight hug. He buried his face in your hair, the tension in his body finally giving way as he held you close.

You were caught off guard for a moment, but then you returned the hug, your arms wrapping around him just as tightly. He could feel your warmth, the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against his chest, and it was like a wave crashing over him. All the fear, the panic, the doubts—they melted away.

He let out a shaky breath, his grip tightening, not wanting to let go. “I thought something happened,” he whispered against your hair, his voice rough. “I woke up and you were gone, and I couldn’t—” He trailed off, not knowing how to explain the weight of what he was feeling.

You squeezed him tighter, your voice soft but steady. “I’m here, Joel. I’m not going anywhere.”

His hands trembled as he pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes searched yours, still filled with that lingering fear, but also something else—something that grounded him. “I can’t lose you,” he said quietly, his voice barely a whisper.

You didn’t say anything right away, just cupped his face with your hands, your thumb brushing over his cheek. “You won’t,” you promised, your eyes locking with his. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Joel’s breath caught in his throat. He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, and for a moment, it felt like the world outside didn’t exist. Just you, just him. And the only thing that mattered was this—being here with you.

For the first time that morning, he felt whole again.

[joelmillermylove]

hehe Guilty 😏😏

[ladybirdswritings]

SWEET THING, DBF — joel miller x reader.

DESCRIPTION: your life is a storm—an overbearing father, a shitty boyfriend, and the ache of growing up. everything becomes more tangled when you find yourself drawn to your father’s best friend, joel. NOTES - finally, part two. leave me all your thoughts and opinions. i love them <33 | prev part ; next part

two;

“Put your seatbelt on, Y/N.”

His voice was gruff—tired from overuse, nearly ready to silence entirely. A rich, southern rasp that sent chills down anyone’s spine, yours included. You obeyed without hesitation.

“Thank you for this…” was all you managed in a whisper while locking the metal into place—trapped.

You didn’t know your daddy’s friend too well, but you knew enough. Most people avoided him, whether it was the constant scowl etched on his face or those dark eyes that seemed to scream threats his quiet mouth never voiced. Everything about him made people stiffen, their bodies rigid as old boards.

He only hummed, his eyes fixed on the road, his jaw ticking as he navigated toward the party nearby.

“A left here,” you offered, leaning forward and pointing just past his line of sight.

When he breathed, the scent of honey and jasmine flowers on your skin clung to the air between you. His jaw locked tighter.

You knew you looked every bit the spoiled, overprotected little princess your daddy raised you to be. Skipping Jackson’s town dance to attend some trashy house party hosted by your boyfriend wasn’t exactly subtle rebellion, but you didn’t care.

Where your father insisted on preserving the innocence of your youth, you argued you’d only get to be young once. Only get to date questionable men, drink questionable drinks, and laugh about it later one time in your whole life.

Naive? Sure. But you didn’t know that.

Joel didn’t wait for you to notice he’d parked before snaking a firm arm across the console. His calloused fingers brushed the hem of your denim-clad thigh. Your heart stuttered, your eyes widening as his glare burned into you.

So close.

And then, the seatbelt clicked.

You exhaled shakily, a smile tugging at your lips as you reached for the door. But before you could escape, his rough fingers caught your chin, tugging your face back until you were forced to meet his eyes.

Dark, chocolate eyes.

“You’re real lucky tonight, sweetpea. Now don’t go in there and make me look like a fool to yer’ daddy. You drink responsibly, and you don’t touch a blunt in sight—understand?”

You gulped, cheeks burning tomato red. Wide-eyed and frozen, you nodded. You were nothing more than a fish caught in the hands of a cold fisherman, your pretty face cradled between his calloused palms.

“What, you think I’m stupid? Think I don’t know what’s gonna go on the second you walk that purtie lil’ ass inside?”

His voice was sharp, and you stammered, blinking up at him as your breath hitched. He knew. Of course, he knew. He was young once, too.

“I’ll be responsible, Mr. Miller—sir,” you lied through your teeth, the sweetness in your voice a thin disguise.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, and a deep, gravelly laugh escaped him.

“Oh, sure you will, sweetpea.”

Satisfied he’d issued a proper warning, he released you. But before you could scramble away, he added, “Go on and behave, and I might just convince your daddy to let you live a little more often.”

Hope bloomed in your chest like wisteria tangling with your rapid heart. If Joel vouched for you, maybe daddy would ease up.

A plan solidified in your head. All you had to do was be good.

You could do that! Easy, just be good.

Step one? Sweeten him up.

“You’re a peach, Mr. Miller,” you chirped, leaning forward to press a kiss to his stubbled cheek.

You lingered a moment longer than you should have.

Where Jesse smelled of beer, snow, and fresh spices, Joel smelled of whiskey, cedar, and leather. Of hard work and blood-stained hands.

Joel noticed the pause, and slowly, his head turned. Just an inch closer, and his lips could press right against yours.

The thought made your eyes widen.

What was wrong with you? He was doing you a favor, and here you were imagining how his scowling lips might feel against yours. How his tongue—experienced, confident—might tease the roof of your mouth, trail down your neck…

He peered at you through bourbon lashes.

“That business doesn’t work on me, sweetpea…” he started, freeing a hand so to tuck a stray ringlet of your untamed waves behind your ear. You inhaled sharply.

“You gon’ be good?” His voice was low, a tickling whisper that sent warmth flooding through your body.

“I am,” you promised, your teeth betraying the truth behind your pretty smile.

He nodded once. “Go on, then. I’ll be parked out front. Holler if you need me.”

His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel as you slipped out, your heart racing with every intrusive thought lingering in your head.

Maybe you were ovulating. Or maybe you were a basket case.

You shook your head. Jesse. Jesse. Jesse. Your boyfriend—Jesse.

With that, you slammed the Chevy door and hurried toward the party.

•••

Big. Fucking. Mistake.

As soon as the scent of weed and tequila hit your senses, you grinned. A tiny buzz wouldn’t be too hard to hide from Joel.

One shot here. Another there. You inched closer to Jesse, ready to surprise him.

And you did.

“Y/N!”

There he was, wide-eyed and guilty, his lips swollen from Abby’s kiss.

Tight, toned Abby.

They were tucked in a corner, her lips lazily trailing his throat. The sight made your knees wobble. When Jesse saw you, he jerked away, but the damage was done.

Abby’s hands shot up as though she were innocent, and it took all your strength not to lunge for the bitch.

“Baby—” Jesse started, but your throat tightened, hot tears threatening to spill.

You remembered how he admired your strength back in high school. When you were nerdy and unimportant — only glanced at after the tragic death of your mother. Everyone else pitied you. Jesse was different. He’d whispered sweet words to you after your mother passed, he’d made you less… stuck-up; convinced you that tequila could numb the pain. God, it did.

“Y’know, you’re a real tough girl to show up every day with your head high after everything that’s happened…”

“Sip this— baby. all those thoughts about your mom will go away…” he’d whispered once, tipping vodka onto your tongue. He had lost his mom, too. He knew how to stop the agony.

And now? He was the one causing it.

“Fuck you, Jesse. We’re done,” you snapped, your voice cracking despite your best efforts to sound strong.

You turned to leave, but Abby’s smug voice stopped you cold.

“Don’t know why you’re so pressed, princess. I dig chicks too. You could’ve joined us.”

You saw red.

Before you knew it, your ringed fist collided with her chiseled jaw.

Gasps echoed as she stumbled back into the crowd, her wide eyes meeting yours. Jesse grabbed your wrists, but you yanked them free.

“Stay the fuck away from me!”

And just like that, you stormed out, leaving the crowd and your dignity behind.

This wasn’t how your night was supposed to go.

But instead of sulking to Joel’s truck, you vowed to drown your sorrows in tequila until the world stopped spinning.

Oh yeah, that’s exactly what you intended to do.

[talaok]

Okay so I’m thinking Pedro x Actress!reader where another famous guy/actor says in an interview that he has a crush on us which makes Pedro a bit jealous and then we all end up at the same event - maybe Pedro gets abit angsty with him but he’s super loving and affectionate toward us…

warnings: jelousy

a/n: it goes without saying that i apologize for the wait babe, i really loved this request 

It wasn't that he hated him, it was just that if anything were to happen to him he wouldn't be the one to cry, that's all...

and maybe he'd thought about punching that smug look off his face once... or twice... or every time the thought of him came up.

But it still wasn't hate

Hate is a strong word, and Pedro wasn't not one to throw it around easily, he was all for peace and love and everything but this guy... this guy was really pushing the limits

And what the actual fuck was he even doing here tonight?

"You're staring"

Your soft, amused voice pulled him out of his own thoughts, his eyes sliding to you

"I just don't get why he's here"

You stifled a laugh as you answered "The same reason why we are baby"

"he's not even nominated" he grumbled,

"neither am I" You smiled, placing your hand on his cheek, feeling his soft scruff graze your palm "It's not a big deal babe, he probably said my name just because it was the first one that popped into his mind" you shook your head "I bet it's not even true"

Yeah right

He would have believed that if you were anybody else, but you... fuck- it didn't take him even a second to fall in love and you expected him to believe that that guy didn't have a crush on you? He would have sooner begun believing that Mark Zuckerberg was one of those lizard guys.

You were everything anyone could have ever dreamed of, you were funny, so incredibly smart it made him feel like a fifth grader in comparison, and god you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen 

he knew what you did to men, he knew what you did to men because that's exactly what you did to him,

and he didn't even mind that much, he'd never been the jealous type, but the problem with Shawn wasn't that he liked you (because he clearly did), but it was that he had the audacity, the smugness to fucking say it out loud, to admit it in front of a camera for anyone to see, like the woman he was talking about didn't have a husband, like he wasn't her fucking husband.

"I saw him look at you before"

This time, you did let out a little snort

"what, how dares he?" you mocked him, laughing again as his face remained completely unamused "It's your big night babe, don't let this silly little thing ruin it, please"

But just then, just when he was finally starting to let go a little, the focus of all of his loathing appeared beside you

"I'm sorry to interrupt-"

Then fucking don't

"I just wanted to introduce myself" 

Shawn's eyes were only on you, as if he didn't even exist, as if your hands hadn't been on his cheeks but a moment prior

"I'm Shawn," he said, offering his hand to you "I'm... well, I'm a really big fan" he ended with a soft laugh, smiling in that charming way that surely made women all woozy

"Hi Shawn, it's a pleasure to meet you-"

As you shook his hand, Pedro was closing his into fists

This fucking guy-

"Hi pal"

Pedro's voice didn't sound even a little bit not completely pissed off

"I'm Pedro," he said "her husband"

The flicker of amusement that sparked behind his eyes made Pedro seriously ponder whether or not a little punch was that bad of an idea

"Oh, I didn't know you were married"

Andrew's eyes were back to you, and god it was taking all of Pedro not to grab him and throw him to the other side of the room

Just the fact that he was looking your way seemed too much, 

How dare he look at you, at his beautiful wife, at the love of his life?

It felt wrong, it was wrong, and it was making him furious

"I'm sure you didn't" Pedro grunted, taking a slow step closer to him "Shawn right?" he asked, even though he knew much too well who he was "What exactly are you doing here?" Pedro's eyes narrowed, his head tilting "I didn't notice your name in any of the nominations"

"baby" your soft warning was met with a soft smile from him, one that faded into a stoic/murderous gaze as soon as your husband's eyes were back on the man before him

"I'm just asking a question sweetheart, that's all"

Shawn seemed to accept Pedro's challenge in the blink of an eye

"I'm here with a friend, he's the one that got the nom"

Pedro nodded slowly, "ah. Right," he said, his hand going to your back and drawing gentle circles on it

He didn't miss the way Shawn followed the movement

"And why exactly are you talking to my wife Shawn?"

Now that, that seemed to take him aback a little, but he recovered quickly

"What?" he laughed "is no one allowed to talk to your wife without your permission or something?"

"Oh absolutely not, my wife can talk to whomever she wishes," Pedro spoke "I'm just not very fond of her talking to men that have openly admitted to liking her" he shrugged as if his eyes and voice weren't yelling murder 

You, in the meantime, were busy looking for the fastest way out of this place

"You've seen the video," Shawn said more like a statement

"I sure did" Your husband nodded "I especially liked the part where you described her as your "dream woman""

Shawn sighed loudly, shaking his head

"listen, man-"

"No, you listen, man" Pedro interrupted him "How 'bout you get the fuck away from me and my wife, mh?" he said more like a threat "How bout that?"

Shawn let out a loud breath before responding

"whatever man" he sighed, his eyes moving to you "It was nice to meet you y/n, maybe we can meet another time..." he glanced to the man on your right "when the guard dog isn't around"

"yeah" Pedro scoffed "Go fuck yourself, buddy"

You both stared at his back as he walked away, but after no more than two seconds, you couldn't help but let your lips pull into the smile you'd been holding this whole time

"that was a bit harsh"

Pedro only grinned as he brought you flash against him with his hands on your waist

"Like you haven't done worse" he smirked

Yeah... while Pedro wasn't usually jealous, you were... let's just say you were not exactly on the same wavelength

"you looked ready to kill him" you chuckled, wrapping your arms behind his neck

"mh" he hummed, ghosting your mouth "Who says I wasn't" he teased, his lips crashing with yours in a long, deep kiss that Pedro absolutely didn't wish for Shawn to be witnessing