#boxer!pedro

[harryandpedro]

uppercut - eleven

summary: Pedro goes down on Maisy

parings: boxer/singledad!pedro x nanny!fem oc

warnings: twelve-year age gap, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, the soft!dom is soft!doming, Pedro is extremely soft and sweet as always, fem!mc is inexperienced and a bit clueless, use of pet names (sweetheart, flower, sweet girl, babygirl(!!)), aftercare

wc: 4.8k

series masterlist here

a/n: happy valentine's day angels, this is my gift to you, happy reading </3

Maisy

I wake to the shape of him dressing in the grey of the room. I didn't hear his alarm. I'm about to greet him but I stop myself. I want to see how he wakes me, because I'm irrational and self-absorbed like that. I'm curious about whether he kisses me, says my name, or shakes my arm.

"Maisy," he coos softly.

I lamely feign waking up, and open my eyes to see him perched on the edge of the bed, gazing down at me.

"Hey," his voice is all morning rasp, deep and scratchy. I rub my feet together under the sheets.

He flashes a brilliant smile and I know today's going to be a great day. "I gotta head out soon. I'm gonna wake Oliver. Can you be downstairs in like tenish?"

I tug the duvet under my chin, "Mhm."

He nods and his eyes take me in languidly. "Are you...feeling okay?"

My cheeks flush at his solicitous inquiry. "Yes, a little sore... but yes."

"Good."

He opens his mouth to say something else but never does.

He stands and jabs a thumb in the general direction of his son's nursery. "I'll wake him now."

The day ensues casually. I spend the forenoon tidying. There are so many things Pedro needs help with around the house and I know he didn't hire me as a cleaning lady, but I don't want to ignore them. Even though he's for sure going to be annoyed I pick up the slack. I vacuum the entire house, mop the kitchen and do a load of laundry during which process I may or may not give one of his used T-shirts a deep inhale.

Following lunch, I decide to take Oliver out for a stimulating walk and get ourselves ice cream. Post-walk, he's too cute and clingy and I'm too overcome with parental greediness so we crash on the couch.

×××

Pedro

I get home loaded down with bags of groceries for our Mexican-themed dinner and right as I step through the door, I notice how clean and tidy the space is. Across the hall, I hear the tumble dryer going, so she must’ve done the laundry, and all of Oliver’s toys that were scattered across every corner of the house just this morning have been put away.

She’s helping out wherever she can even though it’s not her responsibility.

I remember staunchly why I need to stop having fantasies about my son’s nanny.

She is the first good one I’ve ever had, and I’d be damned if I messed it up because my cock seems to react every time she does something nice for me or Oliver.

Okay, so maybe I am kidding myself with that. It isn’t just when she treats Oliver like her own, or when she does something around the house that she really doesn’t have to, or when she makes my life easier by doing what — in her words — is the bare minimum of a babysitter.

It is that she is otherworldy gorgeous.

Every small, ridiculous thing about her turns me on.

I need a cold, hard reality slap.

I need to stop fantasizing about my nanny.

No matter the strenuous jump-roping session I did after post-training that left me gasping for air and wincing against my ribs, the pain didn’t last.

As soon as I was on my way home, all my thoughts drifted to Maisy.

And at my core, a voice is telling me no amount of masturbation could help.

Which is a real fucking problem.

I shake the thoughts from my head, doing my damndest not to think too hard about her as I kick off my shoes and move further into the house, scooping out the rooms in hopes of finding my son or his unfairly beautiful nanny with a voice I can't get out of my head as it mewls my name.

I drop off the groceries in the kitchen and turn into the living room. At first, it appears empty but as I look over the backboard of the couch, Masiy cuddling my boy comes into view.

My heart thuds out of sync for many beats. I knead at the spot.

Rick made me do accessory work on my pectorals, that must be the reason for the soreness, I reason.

Roused by my ogling, Maisy stirs then blinks a few times as her vision clears and she reaclimates. When she sees me, a slow smile spreads across her plush, naturally cherry lips.

They are kissable lips, a voice says in my head.

I shoo it away. Inappropriate.

Instead, I focus on my boy. "Did you have a great nap, Buddy?" I ask, leaning over the couch and tickling Oliver’s belly.

Maisy sits up, propping my son on his knees.

My boy is all bed-head and dried drool from his nap. "Daddy," he mumbles, reaching for me.

I pick him up, and his little arms instantly go around my neck. My heart thuds with affection, and I cover his cheeks with kisses and he wiggles in my grasp, giggling.

"Sorry. I know I shouldn't have let him nap on the couch with me. But he was extra cuddly today and fell asleep on me while we watched a video of vegetables dancing and—," Maisy rambles.

The corners of my mouth quirks up in a small but fond smile. "It's okay. You don't have to explain yourself," I tell her reassuringly. "I trust your judgment with him."

She nods, her eyes flitting around me, her fingers fidgeting with her droplet necklace.

"I gotta take a quick shower, but we can get started on dinner after?"

"Sound great," she agrees, standing.

I let Oliver down. "I'll be right there with you."

She saunters into the kitchen, my son crawling after her.

He's still not quite walking but he can make a couple of steps on his own before losing balance. I try not to sweat over his slow but steady progress. He'll get there.

After a cold shower in the downstairs bathroom – and against my better judgement –, I wrap a towel around my waist and spy on the two of them for an idle moment.

Oliver sits on her hip as Maisy puts away the groceries. She announces each item she stores away, teaching him the names of vegetables and fruits. I should go back to my room and put some clothes on, but I just want to be around them.

Eventually though, a few more self-indulgent moments later I begrudgingly tear my eyes away from them and get dressed.

I put on some worn jeans and tug a crumpled white t-shirt on while descending the stairs. My bare feet make soft padding sounds as I walk into the kitchen. "Ready, chef?" I ask jokingly.

Maisy puts me right to work. I'm on prep duty, peeling, chopping, dicing anything she puts right in front of me. It's all awfully domestic. Oliver perches in his high chair, supervising us as he devours his less gourmet dinner of mashed potatoes and hard-boiled egg. There's music playing and Maisy sways her hips as she blows on the ladle and holds it out to me to taste.

"Careful, it's hot," she warns, gauging my reaction as I let the sauce dissolve on my tongue. "More salt? Five more minutes?"

"Five more minutes. Seasoning is spot on."

I’m wiping Oliver’s face clean with a damp cloth when I hear a hiss and a quiet Fuck coming from Maisy.

My eyes cut to her as she tosses the knife into the sink, and lifts a finger to her mouth.

"You okay there?" I ask, and I can hear the alarm in my voice. I'm not slick at all.

"I’m fine, just cut myself." She sounds fine but there’s a pleading ring to her voice—which I might make up in my head, but I don’t care. I want to take care of her.

Sitting Oliver on my forearm, I reach for her wrist, rotating her hand to inspect the damage, which is limited.

"Really, I’m fine," she says, avoiding my gaze as she pulls her wrist out of my hold and brings her finger back up to her mouth to stem the light trickle of blood.

I grab the makeshift first-aid kit I store under the sink and rifle through the contents, looking for the correct Band-Aid size.

“Let me,” I coax.

She lets out a heavy sigh, "Okay."

"Good girl," the title slips before I could stop myself. If she catches the insinuation, she doesn’t acknowledge it.

My hand wraps around her wrist again, guiding her finger from her mouth.

“It doesn’t look too bad,” I say, assessing the inconsequential cut.

“That’s what I told you,” she replies. I feel her intense, searching gaze on my face as I pull the Band-Aid from its wrapper, and place it with meticulous care.

"Maisy hurt?" Oliver pouts.

She laughs lightly, petting his head with her uninjured hand. "It’s just a little cut. I’m okay, it doesn’t even hurt," she assures my son.  

I work against the giddy smile that’s tugging on my lips.

I wrap the sticky ends together and delicately kiss the area where her cut is. “There.”

She shudders at the contact. “Thank you,” she whispers and turns away to resume work.

Before we sit down to eat, I tuck Oliver in for the night. When I return, a rosy-cheeked Maisy and a margarita is waiting on me. Even without the alcohol in my system, I feel warm and uninhibited.

Dinner is languid. We discuss how we prefer our hard-boiled eggs. We express our fears of growing old. We recall our first day as high schoolers, the number of our locker and the code combination.

Slightly tipsy, we get up to dance. Maisy is bashful at first but reassured by my awkward dance moves, lets herself loose. We do some consensual rubbing and grinding, the air between us charged. I'm nosing at her neck as we rock side to side, her back to my front, when George Michel's Father Figure comes on shuffle. It's a song I haven't heard in a while, and the lyrics sober me.

I break into a nervous sweat. We separate, I grab my phone and skip the song.

"You good?" she asks, her skin glistening.

"Yeah, yeah. It's just—, it's getting late and I have a session early tomorrow."

"Yeah, of course, you're right," she mumbles, but her face falls in disappointment, making me feel like the worst possible human.

I stack and carry our plates to the sink. I grip onto the edge of the kitchen counter and close my eyes. I feel her lingering presence. I blow out the air in my lungs, open my eyes and face her.

She's leaning against the counter, mirroring me, one of her hands toying with the hem of her sundress. "Thank you for tonight. I had fun."

A smile breaks across my face. "I enjoyed myself too," I say quietly.

Her eyes sparkle at my words and she perks up. She licks her plump lips, her throat bobbing with a swallow. I trace the movement.

"I—, I really want to kiss you right now," she divulges.

Heat rushes down, and my dick hardens with desire in my jeans.

"Can I kiss you?"

When she is this polite, who am I to resist the temptation?

It's like I'm a hormonal teenage boy. Lust overrides my consciousness. But I can't even pretend I'm not in way over my head. So, I chose to ignore it all and just live in whatever moment is right in front of me. Apparently, that is the opportunity to be kissed by Maisy.

Surging forward, I bend to meet her waiting mouth in an urgent kiss.

She melts into the kiss after a lag of surprise, her hands floating up to settle on either side of my jaw. Her touch is still tentative, even after the multiple orgasms I've given her, she's still too self-conscious to fully let her desires control her.

There's a different energy to her when it comes to intimacy. In normal day-to-day situations, she's opinionated, sure of herself and her values, but in bedroom-type situations, she's timid, coy.

I find it extremely sweet.

I know it's partly because of her inexperience but I think she likes to hand over the control. And I'm okay bearing the responsibilities.

I don't care to be particularly composed as I dole out my affection, the twisting of our tongues messy and clumsy with how badly I want to put my mouth all over her. I comb my fingers through her silky hair as her tongue meets mine. My hands roam down her sides, then loop around her waist to press her back into the counter.

Trailing my mouth down, I smear my kisses over the curve of her chin, the line of her jaw, then all the way down the column of her throat. She shivers, her hands pushing up into my hair.

I bend at the knees slightly, my palms cupping the backs of her thighs. "Hop," I murmur and I hoist her onto the kitchen island. Our lips disconnect for just a split second before she's chasing after me, grasping me by the nape of my neck.

I pry myself between her legs, her dress riding up but still concealing her as my hips slot between her plush thighs.

The way she kisses is needy, careless, unfettered. It turns me even more feral.

One of my hands moves up to cup the side of her neck, the other holds her by the ribcage. She wraps her legs around my middle, and her ankles cross, making the bulge in my jeans press against the heat of her. We both gasp at the contact.

I pull kiss after kiss from her until we're breathless and clamouring.

When she breaks for air, I reach behind to untangle her ankles. She mewls in protest but I don't backtrack. I'm on a mission to finally lick into her.

Giving her a placating kiss, I drop to my knees in front of her, feeling my pulse thrumming as I gaze up at her from this new position. Her hair is frizzy from my fingers running through it, and her chest heaves as she catches her breath through kiss-swollen lips.

She tugs at my hair, looking at me questioningly, but I don't make any move to get up, I stay right where I am. "Don't worry, flower, I'll take care of you."

My hands smooth over the length of her thighs, the fabric of her dress catching on my wrists as it pools around her hips. I grip her by the hips and pull her towards me so that she sits on the edge of the countertop, and hike her legs over my shoulders.

She yelps, choking on air.

In this position, I'm face to face with her heat, covered by a pair of blush pink thongs. There's a big wet patch on the gusset. She's completely soaked through. My erection twitches painfully in my pants, but I show some restraint.

Planting my mouth in a suctioning kiss on the flesh of her inner thigh, I start a new expedition.

As I pluck my teeth against the soft skin goosebumps raise on her skin, and she cries out my name."Pedro, w-we can take this to my bedroom, an—" she rushes, breathless.

I shake my head before she can finish. "Quit it," I bark lowly, her scent drugging me. "We're going to stay right here, sweetheart."

I drag my lips over her thighs, never fully parting from the flesh before I press another languid kiss to her skin.

"Oh God, oh God," she whimpers between gasps.

The closer I get to the apex of her thighs, the more unreal her scent is. I want to bury myself in her.

So I do.

I nose at where her clit is nestled away out of my sight, and she lets out the most angelic cry.

My fingertips tease the waistband of her underwear. "How was that? Did you like it when I nudged your aching little clit, baby girl?" I probe, peering up at her. Her cheeks are red, and her brows glisten with sweat.

"Mhump," she purrs. "Do it again, please?"

I lower my head and inhale deeply, her intoxicating smell filling my lungs. In response, she crumbles; she falls back onto her forearm.

I hook my thumbs under the string on her hips. "I gotta taste you. Been thinking about it all week, pretty girl." I tell her, trying to tame the keen edge in my voice. "Will you let me?"

A look of hesitation flashes behind her eyes, and her legs tremble (and not in the uncontrollable, post-coital way I would prefer, but in a nervous tick). Noting her uneasy, I reign in my desperation.

"You're nervous," I state.

She chews on her bottom lip. "I am," she says meekly.

I drop back onto my heels, and run my hands up and down the length of her thighs comfortingly before pressing a tender kiss onto each of her kneecaps. "If you want to stop or this is something you're not ready for, tell me. But you don't have to be nervous with me."

"Yes, I know," she speaks in a hushed tone, pouting. "I think what's making me nervous is that I'd never let a man touch me down there before you, let alone put his mouth on me so intimately."

"I'm aware of that," I say, my thumbs kneading at her.

"When you kissed me there—, I–I was overpowered with a rush of butterflies. I didn't know how to behave myself, it scared me."

"But they were a good kind of butterflies, yes?" She nods. "Well, you can always just tug on my hair. If anything that lets me know you're enjoying what I'm doing. How about you do that when you feel those butterflies?" I offer, sponging kisses to her kneecap.

She rolls her bottom lip between her teeth. "Okay," she breathes softly.

"Now will you let me put my mouth on you?"

The slow but certain nod she gives is the permission I need before I'm finally shucking her underwear down her legs and unceremoniously stuffing them in my back pocket. A blissful sigh leaves me as I take in the glistening folds of the most beautiful cunt I've ever seen.

"Jesus, Maisy," I choke out in admiration. "How are you real? You're fucking stunning." There's a patch of downy hair above the cleft. Dark pinkish-purple folds gleam with her arousal. "God, you're fucking perfect."

"Thank you," she says softly.

Settling as comfortably as I can on my knees, I close that small, teasing distance, and plant my lips directly onto her clit. Her hips buck.

Another testing kiss and she stops breathing, her legs quaking around my head. I tsk. "Nah-ah. You need to spread your legs wider, sweetheart." I rasp and after a shuddering sigh, she obliges, parting those thick thighs even wider to give me access to the dark, wet heart of her.

I reward her with a long, slow swipe of my tongue across her leaking slit.

"Ohmygod," she slurs, thrusting her hips forward to chase after the sensation.

My lips lift in an impish smirk. She makes a keening noise, and the sound unlocks a deep well of joy inside me I'd never known existed.

Peering up at her, I push another budding kiss to her clit, this time watching the look on her face. Her eyes attempt to close, lashes kissing her cheekbones, with her mouth dropping into a small gape, and a pinch appearing between her brows.

After planting a slew of kisses on her clit, feeling her pulse jump against him, I slide my arms around to the backs of her thighs. My palms cuff the soft skin, fingertips denting into the gentle curve as I push her towards my face, angling her hips just so.

The scent of her lures me in and I scarcely hear her say my name as I move forward. I bend my head and feast from her. My tongue dips into the heart of her, tasting the wet as it oozes from within her, and my lips seal around her clit to suck, suck, suck until her legs tremble and she has to grip the edge of the countertop to cope.

I give her no mercy, and she doesn't ask me for any. She surrenders to my savage intentions so sweetly, it lights me on fire.

Clutching the dense swell of her ass in my hands, I haul her closer to my mouth.

The flat of my tongue slides through her slit over and over, collecting her wetness and revelling in the heady taste that was her before swallowing. I can feel her toes curl behind my back, her heels pressing into my spine to urge me into giving more. I smile around my ministrations as I zigzag my tongue over her pussy before turning my focus back on her clit.

Kissing at the bud, I speak as best I can without lifting my mouth from her.

"Y'taste so good, flower."

Her hands find my head, the tips of her fingers winding through my hair. "You—you're incredible. This—oh, God—is incredible."

Spurred on by her stuttered praise, I surge forward, replacing my lips with my tongue now laving over her clit. It's swollen between my lips as I give placating sucks to the bud, drawing the softest mewls from Maisy.

Diving down from her clit, I follow the split of her spread folds until I'm tonguing at her opening. Her wetness has spread to the inside of her thighs, my cheeks, and now the tip of my nose as I wag the flat of my tongue over her arousal-coated folds.

I jut my chin against her and thrust my tongue straight inside her pussy. She moans up to the ceiling. Her fluttering walls clench around me, welcoming me in.

I wriggle my tongue inside her, tracing along the ridges and curves. Her hands in my hair come alive then, tugging at the roots. Drilling my tongue inside her, I draw her higher and higher until her whimpers and gasps are obscenely lewd.

My cheeks are squished by her warm thighs, chin soaked in her slick and nose mushed against her clit.

I could do this all night, but I have a feeling Maisy's expiration is coming soon.

The telltale sign comes in the scrunch of her nose and her fluttering eyes.

"Gonna cum for me, baby girl?" I mouth against her clit, feeling her muscles bunch at the feeling of my voice vibrating around her.

A small whine crawls its way out of her throat as she nods, her mouth in nothing more than a gape.

"Want you to cum on my face," I croon, "Let me have it, sweetheart."

All it takes is a lingering suck of her clit before she's crumbling above me. My name leaves her mouth as if in prayer. Her back arches from the counter, pushing her hips that much closer to my face. Twitching with each pulsation that grips her, she holds me trapped against her, tossing her head in the throes of ecstasy.

I don't stop, feeling her clit pulsing between my lips. A cry dies in her throat when I move one hand from her ass to between her thighs to join my tongue inside her.

I drive a finger inside her snug cunt while sucking her clit between my lips. Her hands in my hair are shocked into a tight, unwavering grip, and heels dig into my back.

"Again," I demand against the inside of her thigh before curling another finger into that tight heat and flicking her swollen, throbbing clit with my tongue. "Give me one more."

She cries out then, louder and louder.

This time, when she orgasms, I fuck her even harder through it, fingers pressing into the front wall of her pussy, punishing a soft spot that makes her wail and ride my face without one iota of shame.

And if I don't I almost cream myself.

I carry her away for several long minutes, lapping her slower and slower until she grows too sensitive.

When she climbs down from her high, I'm still kissing her sloppy, swollen folds.

"Too much, too much," she whimpers, pushing my face away from her.

Drawing away, I look up at her. A slow, private smile spreads across her face. My heart gives a warm thump. Seeing her unwound for me...

Hell. I could easily get used to this. But it was only sex... right? Two consenting adults enjoying each other's bodies.

Easing her thighs from my shoulder, I move up her body to kiss those sweet lips. "You did good, so good, baby girl."

I fix her dress despite there being no reason to hide after what we just did, smoothing the fabric over her hips in a grounding touch. Wrapping an arm around her waist, I start her towards her bedroom.

"Let's get you cleaned up."

With her eyes hooded and movements lethargic, I guide her upstairs. Flicking on the light in her room, I deposite her on the edge of her bed. I watch with an affectionate smile as she flops back into the mattress, arms falling above her head as she stretches out.

I leave her to her quiet soothing and step into her bathroom.

Just as I thought, my cock is still impossibly hard in my pants, hiding a drenched spot on the front of my briefs where I've been leaking blurts of precum while tasting the very same girl who nannies my son and is the daughter of my coach.

I adjust myself and rid of the thought.

I find a small cloth under the sink cabinet, wet it and walk back to her. Her eyes open lazily, and her cherry lips slit into a small, intimate smile. Her feet dangle from the edge of the bed, and I kneel.

"Is it alright if I push up your dress again, sweetheart?" I ask, voice a low croon in the quiet of her bedroom. "Just gonna clean you."

"Okay," she mumbles, lifting her hips some as I push up the hem.

She wordlessly spreads her thighs and I make quick work of wiping up her arousal that dripped to the inside of her thighs. When I touch her clit, hoping it would be so fast she wouldn't notice, I earn a small hiss, her legs recoiling to close around my hand.

"Too much," she reminds me, a pout evident in her voice.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," I murmur, compounding my words with a kiss to the cuff of her knee.

A strong urge to take proper care of her grips me. I do the whole boyfriend experience; I get her a clean pair of underwear—a quick rummage around her underwear drawer reveals a lacy black thong that I make her wear—, and her sleep shirt from under her pillow, even going as far as draping the duvet over her and pressing a kiss into her hairline, which is beyond overkill.

I close the door behind me and the realization clangs through me; I'm catching feelings.

Maisy

I wake in the middle of the night, totally placated.

I get up to use the bathroom, and as I sit on the toilet, flashes of Pedro between my thighs sizzle across my mind.

My cheeks and neck flame up at the memory of what he'd done.

There was no hesitancy, no politeness in the way he kissed, licked, sucked. I felt totally out of control, and what's more, I wanted to be out of control.

And when he added his fingers... my mind felt like it went straight through a shredder and into a kaleidoscope.

When I came two consecutive times, I was left floating, drifting in a current of Pedro. He was still licking me, except more slowly, as if with no purpose but to savour me.

And then he rose over me, and kissed me, unconcerned with where his mouth had been just seconds earlier. I dimly wondered in that moment if I should be put off by that, but I was still violently twitching with pleasure, contracting with aftershocks that I couldn't make myself care.

He then proceeded to support me up the stairs, took care of my mess and dressed me for bed. I was half-asleep when he kissed my hairline, and I remember sinking into a sense of security that my brain linked to Pedro.

Pedro is big into aftercare.; without fail, he always makes sure I'm comfortable after we've been intimate, but last night felt significant, especially since he went down on me for the first time and I was in such a woundable state. He might consider aftercare as part of our arrangement, but thinking about it, I get a high emotional charge.

I know that he isn't playing any mind games on me because he's equally considerate and kind to me when we aren't making out, but still, I can't help but wonder how he would treat me if I were his—his girl, for real.

At the thought of there being an us, an emergency alarm goes off in my brain. I'm getting way ahead of myself. I'm starting to think our deal could turn into something more which is stupid and foolish and just all around messy what with our age gap and his close relationship to my dad.

I flush, and wash my hands.

Staring into my reflection, my inner voice asks, I won't be able to be remotely normal about Pedro and our arrangement going forward, will I?

"No, I definitely won’t, " I speak aloud.

I climb back into my bed and make myself as small as possible under the covers.

[dilf-docs]

https://x.com/tayispunk/status/1895483809967345898?s=46

This made me think of sparring together of him teaching me to box. (I used to box, but I’d take lessons from him any day🥵)

U USED TO BOX????????? oh that sound SO cool 😭

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Citroën Dyane 6 Coupé, 1970, by Pedro Serra Vidal. The Dyane was assembled in Vigo, Spain for the Spanish market. The Barcelona-based coachbuilder created this coupé based on the Dyane's platform which was revealed at the Barcelona Motor Show but it remained a one-off.

[mgbookland]

Ése fue el sueño “maldito” que tuve y del cual saqué la aclaración de que nunca había tenido ningún hijo. Lo supe ya muy tarde, cuando el cuerpo se me había achaparrado, cuando el espinazo se me saltó por encima de la cabeza, cuando ya no podía caminar. Y de remate, el pueblo se fue quedando solo; todos largaron camino para otros rumbos y con ellos se fue también la caridad de la que yo vivía. Me senté a esperar la muerte.

[pedrospookie]

I’ve been in heels all day—

the way I want to come home and sit on Javier Peña’s lap while he takes them off, one shoe at a time, and then proceeds to rub my feet and calves while he asks me about my day.

then he fucks me senseless 🤷🏼‍♀️

[beefrobeefcal]

I need your professional opinion: what kind of underwear does Big Fish like to wear on a special night out? 🩲

Such a good looking question, Nevy!

What underwear?

Yours in sin,

Beefro👌🥩💜

[alienfailboy]

pedro pascal

retro aesthetic movie

comic accuracy....

...don't talk to me right now.

[architetturacannibale]

​gladiator ii has two genders:

blonde twink

huge thighs and nose

[slowdivinqs]

Easy

Joel Miller x f! reader | 18+ MDNI

summary: waking joel up in the best way possible.

warnings: implied age gap. no use of y/n , no outbreak AU, p w/o plot, consensual somnophilia, unprotected P in V, creampies, dirty talk, established relationship, daddy kink, soft dom! Joel, a few spanks, soft cock worship, pussy pronouns, can imagine game Joel or Pedro. Reader is described as having hair and dimples in her back, as well as Joel being able to manhandle her.

W/C: 3k of non-proof read smut.

A/N: I’m so blown away by all the love on Golden, love you all. Thank you for 150 followers ♡ happy holidays!

masterlist

———————————————————————————————

The duvet needs to be chucked outside.

You throw the blanket off of you with a quiet huff, your arms flopping forward onto the mattress once the duvet has flown nothing short of five centimeters off of you.

Joel Miller is a furnace, one who is insistent on holding you hostage - or cuddling, as he likes to call it - the whole night.

You may act like it’s the bane of your existence, shooting him glares in the middle of the night when your face feels like it’s on fire and you want to jump into a bucket of ice, but you still love it.

You turn over and snuggle into your man’s chest, deciding to forgo the annoyance at being warm, feeling the coarse hair tickle your cheek before you hear his deep, rumbling groan of sleepy approval. His arm clumsily wrapping around you and pulling you forward against him as he keeps sleeping soundly above you.

You can’t help but think of a big bear, deep in hibernation. It makes you smile to yourself before you’re falling asleep in Joel’s arms.

The sun decides to target your eyes the next time, and you glance over to see it’s now 10 am. Joel is still fast asleep above you, the arm that’s not cheekily resting on your ass is behind his head, making those biceps of his look even more delicious. You want to bite them, but your man needs his sleep. It’s his only day off after all.

You blink lazily, not really one for laying in bed once you’re awake, so you admire Joel sleeping next to you. That scruffy beard of his, unfairly long lashes, his full bottom lip, the trail of hair on his stomach that leads bellow the band of his boxers.

Your attention has been captured.

You lean your cheek against his chest - still nuzzling - as you stare at his underwear, eyeing the covered bulge of him that drives you feral every time.

You think back to last week, the day you had a very important meeting. The way he woke you up with his head between your legs, his hot mouth wrapped around your clit.

It’s only logical to return the favor, right?

Joel mumbles a sleepy protest as you escape from his arms, subconsciously grabbing your pillow and bringing it to his face, wrapping those big arms of his around it. Inhaling the scent of your shampoo and body cream and letting out a hum of approval as he promptly falls back asleep.

It makes you smile, momentarily losing focus as you slowly pull off his boxers.

His soft cock is a sight to behold. Ironically more enticing to you than when he’s burning bright red and dripping for you.

He was never embarrassed about it like your previous partners were. Whenever Joel got out the shower, with a towel wrapped around his waist, you could see the outline of him underneath, sometimes the towel would even slip, giving you a view of his tip.

You drool just thinking about it.

You shimmy his boxers down further, slowly lifting his package so his heavy, hairy balls sit above the fabric. Running a finger along his soft skin, humming at the sight of his tip leaking a small trail of sticky precum, twitching softly in your grip. You spend a few minutes just admiring him.

Stretched out on the bed like one of those Roman statues, his muscles on display under his hairy arms, tummy and chest. His thighs bent slightly, soft cock resting perfectly. His face, oh he’s so handsome. You love him, more than anything.

His hair has gotten fluffier, you suspect he’s been using your shampoo.

You lick a line up his cock, gathering that delicious pre on your tongue as he shifts in his sleep with a soft sigh. You still, waiting until he settles back into the cushions, you slowly take him into your mouth then, sucking down down down until he’s fully resting in your mouth, slowly twitching to hardness as your mouth warms him.

You stay like that for a few minutes, gently sucking on the warm weight of him until he’s dripping his precum down your throat, grunting in his sleep as his legs twitch up slightly - stomach clenching and relaxing again as his head turns to the side, a moan bubbling up in his throat.

You pull off as slow as you can, savoring the feel and taste of him against your tongue. The smooth, warm skin of the underside of his cock sliding out your throat. Moving your tongue so as to not graze the underside of his sticky tip - he’ll definitely wake up if you do that.

You let his cock fall gently from your lips, nuzzling your head lower, until you’re sucking one of his heavy balls into your mouth.

You feel a hand in your hair a moment later.

“Atta girl, keep doin’ that.” He groans with that sleepy, deep morning voice you love so much, his hips shifting up to guide more of him into your mouth. He keeps you pressed closer against him, inhaling that musk that's uniquely Joel. He spreads his hair-covered legs wider, stretching his back with the groan he always does as he lets you suck on his sac until he’s pulling you off him with a grunt and instead flipping you down on the sheets, climbing on top of you until his wet cock is nudging at your clit.

“You drive me crazy, Y’know that, angel?” He murmurs, his teeth nipping at your earlobe as he spreads your legs, humming in approval when he sees your wet pussy.

“You weren’t supposed to wake up.” You huff, your hands automatically going to his broad shoulders as he kisses your neck like he can’t stand to not kiss you as soon as he wakes up, you know he can’t : every morning you’re littered with kisses until you eventually open your eyes. It’s the best way to wake up you can think of, makes you feel warm and fuzzy and full of giggles. After, he usually spends ten minutes kissing whatever part of you he can until you either brush him off and he follows you into the shower, or you don’t even make it that far.

“Can’t stay sleepin’ when a woman like you ‘s between my legs.” He murmurs, his big palm groping your breast as he licks the sensitive space above your collar.

“Mmm come here, I miss you.” You whisper to him in your own sleepy voice you know he loves just as much as you love his, kissing his lips softly as he slides his hands under your shoulder blades, holding you up.

“I’m right here.” He says with a gentle smile, but you can see behind that softness he’s desperate from your teasing, that he wants to be inside you even more than you want to feel his cock stretch you, which seems impossible.

“I still miss you, I need you.” You whisper, and he brushes your hair back off your forehead with that big palm of his, placing a soft kiss on the skin he’s revealed before he’s pressing his drooling tip against your weeping entrance.

“Come here, my baby.” He whispers, lifting your hips so his tip can push past your entrance, making room for itself inside your wet walls until the rest of him joins in a hot, slow roll, stretching you open so deliciously you have no choice but to let your eyes roll back as you arch against him, peaked nipples almost brushing against his own strong chest. The weight of him inside you is warm and heavy, leaving your clit throbbing as you clench around him.

Your mouth pours out whimpers of his name, holding onto him tightly as he pushes forward until the coarse hairs at the base of him meet your twitching clit, and he’s kissing you softly while his hand cups the bowl of your skull - the other your lower back, his thumb and pointer finger finding your dimples.

“I love you.” He whispers, gazing at your face and admiring you even when your eyes are closed and your mouth hangs a bit open. He’s fighting to keep his own eyes open, to not let them flutter shut as yours have - he needs to see that face of yours he loves so much. Needs to watch the effect of him inside you.

“I love you.” You whimper, and you smile to yourself before your thumb brushes over his nipple cheekily, wanting him to react in the way you know he will.

He lets out an irritated noise that’s the closest to a growl you’ve ever heard from him, and your mission has been accomplished . “Naughty girl, you’re playin’ with fire.” Watching your expression he seems to be looking for what you want. He gives a jerk of his hips, and hums as your eyes flutter.

“Why don’t you teach me a lesson ‘bout being naughty, then?” You say softly to him, biting your bottom lip in a way you know will drive him wild. Your hypothesis is proven when he flips you onto your stomach, raising your ass in the air for his viewing pleasure. You whine when his cock slips out of you, leaving you empty and dripping.

“Yeah? You want me t’be rough with you baby? Bruise those walls n’ this sweet ass if yours?” He emphasizes his words with a chomp to your ass cheek and a slap. Joel Miller loves ass and tits, but you know his neurons activate whenever he sees your backside jiggle. There’s a strict rule about what pants you can wear when he needs to focus, for his own sanity. He’s missed too many deadlines at work due to him being unable to resist you walking past his office. He knows the rule is futile as it became more of a prompt to do the exact opposite of what he asked for.

You both know he doesn’t mind.

“Yes, daddy.” You whimper, your legs kicking back and forth slightly as he spanks your ass again, spreading your cheeks to watch your puckered hole flex and pussy drip down on your clit. He presses a kiss over his bitemark before shimmying his hips up, his large hands finding place on your hips, thumbs digging into your dimples like grips. He spends a second admiring the sight of his cock between your cheeks, no matter how many times he’s seen it.

“That’s my pretty girl.” He coos, his heavy hand holding his cock as he moves it up and down teasingly through your slit, his tip catching on your entrance before he’s pushing into you again. The angle makes you gasp, his cock sliding so deliciously along your front wall, to that spot that makes you dumb, that you can’t help the way you cry for him.

It’s all ‘daddy, daddy, daddy.’ as he starts moving his hips, mixed in with the louder slaps of his hips meeting your ass - noticeably with his increased effort.

“Oh, baby, this pussy is so sweet.” He groans. You can’t see it, but his head falls back, his hands grip your hips harder. You can’t even register what he just said, your mind is nowhere. You can’t think about anything except the pounding of his cock into you - the hot drag of him as he slides through your wetness like you were made just for him, just for his fat cock. “Squeezin’ me so tight, gorgeous girl.”

He smacks your ass again, three times in a row, inhaling sharply through his teeth when you clench around him, feet kicking up from their position against the mattress and into the soft flesh of his own backside. He grunts out a small laugh before he’s spreading your previously closed legs with his thighs, driving back into you when he’s made space for himself.

“How m’I supposed to stay mad at you when this creamy cunt’s cryin’ for her daddy?” He whispers as he leans over you, his chest pressed to your back as his arms wrap around your front, holding the opposite breast in each hand. He’s right, your pussy is creamy, proven by the white ring around his cock you can’t see, and it’s certainly crying for him - it sobs, mourns, yearns, weeps for him. His fist curls around your hair before he’s tugging as gently as he can to make your head tilt back, holding you like that.

“Oh, daddy-“ you hiccup, your voice shaking with his thrusts, every crack of his hips makes your words and moans break. It’s too much, and it’s not enough. You need him like this always, buried inside and holding you in a way that fixes you and breaks you apart all over again.

“I love you- she loves you.” You cry just as your pussy clenches around him again, you don’t care that the sounds of his thrusts are becoming increasingly lewd with the wetness seeping from you. You know he loves it like this:

Warm, messy and wet wet wet.

“I know baby, I know- she’s makin’ such a mess of daddy’s cock, should see the way your slick’s stickin’ between us- fuck.” He growls the last part, no doubt watching the webs of your wetness stretch whenever his crotch pulls away from your ass, judging by the way he’s twitching inside of you - veins thrumming.

You’d probably appreciate the thought a lot more if you could actually think it.

Joel grunts again, and soon you’re being rolled ontop of his chest after he moved himself similarly, his back pressed to the sheets as yours feels the tickle of his chest hair and happy trail. He plants his feet on the mattress, and you bite your bottom lip with a smile before you know it’s going to fall away with a silent scream of a moan as he starts bucking up relentlessly into you.

Your cries are hardly heard over the sound of his heavy balls smacking wetly against you. His hands have grabbed onto the underside of your thighs, holding them against your body as he thrusts with an amount of energy that should be impossible for a man in his fifties that just woke up.

His hands slide from your thighs, over your stomach to your breasts - his gasps, moans and grunts right next to your ear, sending goosebumps down your neck that feel like electricity. Your whole body is tingling. Not even his delicious sounds are enough to distract you from the slick, sloppy thrusts of him inside you, his tip seeming to target just the right spot again and again until your eyes scrunch closed and your brows furrow.

You can feel his smile against you when you suddenly go quiet, the only sounds leaving your mouth being gasps for air.

Your fingers blindly reach back and thread through his hair, just as he parts with one of your breasts to rub your clit with the rough pads of his fingers in little circles - it makes you arch away from him in a manner that he wishes he caught on video, just to save the moment forever. He flips you around once more to pulll himself out to the top, pressing you into the mattress as he slams back down into you. You’re both jerking forward with every thrust, his hand releasing your bouncing tit to wrap around your neck, squeezing gently to make you float up to that space only he can take you. The sloppy ache of him ramming into you further takes your breath away

“That’s my girl -mmph,oh fuck, cum f’your old man, cum for daddy-“ his growl breaks off into a breathy moan that has your toes curling, your cunt clenching around the thick, warm length of him.

What choice do you have but to listen?

Your orgasm hits you like a train, fire lighting through your body and shooting down your spine. Your hips jerk, pussy fluttering around him so deliciously he rewards you with one of his lewdest moans yet. Just when you think you’ll fall into a blissful afterglow, he speeds up.

“God fuckin’ damn, baby.” The words are punched out of him, broken and rough - just like his thrusts. “Good girl, ‘m goin’ t’flood this perfect pussy, then I’ll fuckin’ eat me outta you jus’ to pump you full again.”

It’s the best thing you’ve ever heard in your life, your head rolls back in bliss at the mere thought, not even mentioning the feeling of his sticky balls slapping against you, so plump and full you know he’ll be able to make good on his promise to keep your cunt stuffed until the sun dips down once more.

You can’t even cry his name when you feel his cock twitch upwards, spurting his release deep inside you, filling you with his warmth in a way that makes you feel blissfully cozy, like you’re safe and snug - ready to settle under the blankets with your scented candles burning in the room while Joel occupies himself by cleaning your cream-pied pussy with his tongue.

He kisses down the back of your neck as he gently pulls himself out, turning you on your side so he can kiss your cheeks.

“You okay, baby?” He whispers, continuing to kiss over your face as you keep your eyes closed.

“Yes.” you sigh, finally in that little blissful afterglow. He hums in acknowledgment before he kisses your lips softly, his hands pressing between your shoulder blades from where they’re wrapped around you.

“‘M gonna make us coffee, then I’m eatin’ that pussy ‘till I can’t no more.” He ends his filthy statement with a sweet kiss on your forehead, and you smile at him from the bed as he gets up, stretching your back.

“I love you.” You hum with a sweet sigh as your back pops. He’s currently picking up some laundry on the floor, bare as the day he was born.

“I love you, honey bee.” He says softly.

You admire his muscled back, shoulders and ass as he leaves the room, snuggling into the warmth of the sheets - no longer overbearingly hot - until Joel comes back to keep you warm instead.

———————————————————————————————

thank you so much for reading, please reblog and comment if you enjoyed ♡

[harryandpedro]

uppercut - a pedro pascal au (boxer x nanny)

synopsis:

in which Perdo, a thirty-four years old professional boxer hires his coach's daughter, Maisy to nanny his son.

pure fluff with eventual smut

alternating povs

disclaimers: i use Pedro as a faceclaim, I do not intend to impersonate him. please note that there's a twelve-year age gap. whirlwind romance (?). innocent, inexperienced main character. main character loses her virginity to Pedro's character.

[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.

[604to647]

I can never see Omar Assarian clips and not imagine that this is exactly what young Safest with You Din Djarin looked like as a division boxing champ, hot head and up-and-coming Fett Family enforcer 😍😍

You got knocked out. No. I wasn't knocked out. We both know I could'a gotten back up again. I just didn't want to. I'm not a boxer.

[preciosapascal]

Lazy mornings

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Words count: 1.3k

Rating: NSFW, +18, MDNI.

Tags: smut, no sarah, preoutbreak!joel, petnames, unprotected pinv, basically PWP, not proofread

A/N: alright so, I have like 7 pedro character drafts yet I knocked this one out in just over an hour. first time posting on here so pls let me know what you think!! i'm stuck on like ALL of my stories yet wrote this fast and i'm annoyed with myself but here we are ig. enjoy <3 also @berryispunk i said i'd tag you when i posted my first fic so here you go <33

Lazy mornings with Joel are your favourite. Most nights he gets home from work extremely tired from the day so he just showers, spoons you and falls asleep, murmuring into the back of your neck how he'll make it up to you in the morning, though you never expect him to. You're more than happy just to snuggle him and sleep too.

The best mornings are when he either isn't working till the afternoon, or isn't working at all that day. He wakes up first anyway, his body clock used to the early wake up and instantly presses little kisses to the side of your neck, his hands trailing up and down your side softly.

You stir, a sleepy smile on your face as you slowly wake up. "morning, baby." you say softly, stretching a little. "what time is it?"

He glances at the alarm clock next to his side of the bed. "eight." he mumbles, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and planting a couple more kisses there.

"You sleep alright?" he asks, his hand slipping under your shirt, teasing the skin of your hip.

"Mhm. Had a dream we were getting nasty in a jacuzzi." you laugh a little.

Joel raises an eyebrow. "A jacuzzi, huh?" he asks, jokingly. "Don't believe we've ever tried that one before." he chuckles gruffly, his hand slowly roaming across the bare skin on your stomach.

"I saw an ad on TV about one last night, must be what triggered it." you say, closing your eyes and his fingers roam your skin.

"Mm. Sounds like a good time..." He replies, pulling the hem of your t-shirt up and over your head. You shift up, making it easier for him to remove it completely.

"you think?" you ask softly, craning your neck to look at him behind you.

He hums in response, pressing kisses to your bare shoulder. "Could be fun." he murmurs again your skin between playful nips as he throws your shirt somewhere behind him.

He continues peppering kisses on your neck, shoulder and back, one hand running down your side, up your stomach and up to your chest to cup on of your tits and squeezing gently. He kisses behind your ear before inhaling your scent there.

You shiver, goosebumps erupting all down that side of your body, letting out a soft moan as his thumb brushes over your nipple, making you instinctively grind your ass into his crotch.

He goes back to kissing your neck and he hand slips from your breast down to your mound, fingers slipping under the waistband of your panties.

His index and middle fingers run over your folds, a featherlight and teasing touch that he knows will drive you crazy. "Fuck, you're already soaked." he rasps against the shell of your ear, eyes locked on his hand between your legs.

"mhm." you sound, voice wavering as his fingers gather your slick that's pooled at your entrance before running them up and rubbing circles on your clit.

You let out a soft moan, hooking your leg backwards over his, opening yourself up a little more for him.

His fingers slide down to your soaked hole once more and he dips his fingers in, making you curse softly. He lets out a moan of his own, grinding his hard cock against your ass. "you want it, baby?"

"yeah...need you." you almost whine, needing more than what he's giving you as you reach behind you, attempting to pull his boxers down.

He hisses as your nails run over his hip bone, making his cock twitch. He impatiently pulls his boxers down to his knees then pulls your panties down your thighs with one hand.

"you ready for me, baby?" he asks, a hint of teasing in his voice, despite his own heavy breathing and yet knowing you're more than ready for him by now.

You whine a response, shifting against his hard length. He hooks a hand under your left knee, opening you up to him before he prods your entrance with his fat cock, making you both moan.

He slips inside you slowly, burying his face in your neck again, his facial hair feeling scratchy against the soft skin of your neck.

"you feel so fucking good." he mumbles, pulling out almost completely before pushing all the way in again. "squeeze me baby...that's it, just like that.." he groans as you tense around him, your breathing picking up.

He soon changes up the slow pace, moving his hips against yours faster and harder now, hitting that spongey spot inside your cunt over and over again, making you unable to form a coherent sentence.

"baby...mmfuck." you whimper, the heat building in your stomach with each snap of his hips.

His free arm slips under your neck, his hand tilting your head back so he can see the blissed out look on your face.

His jaw ticks as he looks at you, your eyes squeezed shut, mouth slightly open and little moans and curses spilling from your pretty lips.

His eyes dart between your expression and where your bodies meet, watching his cock disappear in and out of you.

"So..fucking..hot." he thrusts harder with each word before catching your lips with his. You whimper against his lips, happily taking his tongue into your mouth and moving your own against it.

The hand of the arm that's around your neck reaches down to cup one of your tits again as he continues rutting into you. Every sound coming from you drives him further, making him move against you more desperately.

"tell me baby, tell me how- oh fuck - how good it feels." he rasps, teeth grazing your jaw.

"so fucking good baby...m'getting so close." you say between stuttered gasps.

His hand moves from holding your leg up back down to your clit, rubbing tight circles over your swollen bud. The added sensation brings you even closer.

"Yesyesyes." you cry out, grasping his free hand with your own as your cunt clamps down on him like a velvet vice.

His hips stutter and he pants in your ear. "That's it, darlin'. you gonna come for me, yeah?"

You moan in response, leaning your head back against him. "Come on, pretty girl." he encourages, his fingers moving a little faster against you now and his cock still at the same perfect pace.

"fuck...gonna come." you manage to cry out, still clinging onto his hand.

"tha's it, baby, c'mon now..." he murmurs against your neck as he himself is right on the edge with you.

His words are enough to finally send you over the edge. Your back arches off of his front as waves pleasure ripple through your entire body and a string of moans escape you.

Joel grunts and curses as his orgasm hits him, painting your walls with hot ropes of come as his fingers don't let up on your clit, whispering breathless words in your ear about how perfect you are and how fucking beautiful you look when you come, between kisses on your cheek, jaw and neck.

His fingers slow, bringing you down gently as you come down from your high. He slowly withdraws from inside you, breathing in sharply as he does.

His hand moves from your spent, sensitive mound to your hip, tracing circles with his thumb.

After a few moments of comfortable silence and waiting for your breathing to regulate, you turn so you chest is now against his. He wraps his arms round you and kisses the top of your head. He shifts a little and winces.

"you okay, baby?" you ask him, running a hand up and down his back.

"yeah, just my back hurts a little after work. i'll be alright, though." he sighs softly. You hum, still rubbing his back and then you look up at him.

"maybe we should go to a spa or something. could get a proper professional massage, y'know?" you suggest, kissing his chin.

"hm. I like massages from you, though." he murmurs, brushing some hair out of your face.

"yeah, but guess what they have that we don't?" you say, unable to hide a smile. He raises an eyebrow in amusement, silently urging you to continue.

"A jacuzzi." you reply, with a shit-eating grin on your face.

[javier-pena]

I see your tags about pants and how interesting they are and I just wanted to say

Same 👀😌

i’m manifesting a movie where pedro has to wear pants like these

[604to647]

Safest with You - Series Masterlist

Modern AU with Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: Din Djarin, retired mob enforcer, falls in love, but worries his past could put his future (you) in danger.

A/N: First time writer, please be gentle 🥹 This is a modern AU where Din is a former enforcer for the Fett family, and the world building and relationship development between Din and Reader takes place over many chapters. Some Star Wars names thrown in for fun, but there aren't meant to be any serious parallels to canon. Thank you for reading and hope you enjoy my brain rot for everyone’s favourite tin man 🥰

Series warnings: Chapters with smut denoted with 🚑, chapters with angst denoted with ❤️‍🩹, fluff throughout. Individual instalment warnings are included in each post.

Ch. 1 (The Coffeeshop)

Ch. 2 (The Bookstore)

Ch. 3 (The Drycleaner)

Ch. 4 (The First Date)

Ch. 5 (The Courtship)

Ch. 6 (The Courtship, Din's POV) ❤️‍🩹

Ch. 7 (The Third Date) ❤️‍🩹

Ch. 8 (The Cab) ❤️‍🩹

Ch. 9 (The Dam Breaks) 🚑

Ch. 10 (The Afterglow) 🚑

Ch. 11 (The Poker Game) (a summary)

Ch. 11 Addendum (After The Poker Game) 🚑

Ch. 12 (The Workout) 🚑

Ch. 13 (The Birthday)

Ch. 14 (The Subway) 🚑

Ch. 15 (The BBQ) 🚑

Ch. 16 (The Matchup) 🚑

Ch. 17 (The Preparations) 🚑

Ch. 18 (The Threat) 🚑 ❤️‍🩹 Inspo

Ch. 19 (The Betrayal) 🚑 ❤️‍🩹

Ch. 20 (The Way to Get Over Someone, Part 1)❤️‍🩹

Ch. 21 (The Way to Get Over Someone, Part 2)🚑 ❤️‍🩹

Ch. 22 (The Long Road to Forgiveness) 🚑 vibes

The Epilogue new!

Art new!

Dog walk (@kenobiwanx commission 🙏🏻)

Bedtime (@pinkiemme Ch. 11A commission 🥹) 🚑

101 Dalmations Inspired new! (@dazzlingjedi Epilogue commission 😍)

One-shots and Drabbles (same AU)

All the one shots and drabbles can be slotted in the above timeline; as the chapters get written, I’ll note where they fit in. For now, consider the below to all be set when Din and Reader are in an established relationship (hence the smut 😂).

Carnival Fright Night 🚑 (set between Ch. 12 & 14)

Lingerie 🚑 (set anytime after Ch. 10) (Link to the Lingerie set)

The Wedding, Part 2 🚑 (insert btwn Ch. 17 & 18) (Moodboard by @hellishjoel - thank you!)

2 More Days (A Textfic) 🚑 - Part 1, Part 2 (set anytime after Ch. 12)

Holiday Remix (A Textfic) (set anytime after Ch. 12)

Let Me Carry It For You (SBowl 🏈 Drabble) (set right after Ch. 11)

The Mando Roll (Valentine’s Day Special) (set anytime after Ch. 10)

Hat Trick (set anytime after Ch. 12) Part 2 (The Playoffs) 🚑

Birthday Bunny 🚑 (HBD P! 🥳)

Gouda Girl (Happy Pedro Hours Challenge)

Thots

Alfredo’s the best dog

Favourite nook

Walking the dog

POV: On a date with Din

Naming of Mando’s Gym inspo

Working at Mando’s

Paz Vizsla face cast

Excellent boxing advice

Young boxer Din inspo

Rotta Hutt face cast, I guess 😂

Pretty Bird’s IG

Another Valentine’s Day 💕

Where’s My Wife inspo

Series vibes and this amazing graphic by @gasolinerainbowpuddles (thank you!)

[jazzy96scorpio]

The Black Rose and the Star

Chapter 2 The Promise of More

Description: From a night of passion with Pedro to sweet mornings and longing phone calls, your connection deepens even when you're apart.

Pairing: You / Pedro Pascal

⚠️ Warnings: adult content, oral sex (m/f), sex, unprotected sex, just lot of sex, fluff, SMUT

Word count: 1000

Please read first chapter to follow the story 😊

You are together with him in your apartment, finally. But after your first kiss, you were so nervous. But God, you really wanted him.

And he was just as nervous, you could tell. But the wanting was definitely mutual—the air between you practically crackled, thick with unspoken desire. He pulled you close, arms wrapping around you tight, and kissed you gently at first, like he was testing the waters, then with more heat, a hunger that totally matched yours. His lips lingered on yours, a promise of things to come.

"You sure about this?" he murmured against your lips, his breath warm on your skin.

"Yes," you breathed, your voice barely a whisper. "Definitely. I want you more than anything."

His eyes went dark, pupils getting big, and you knew he was just as into it. He started unbuttoning your shirt, his fingers brushing your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

"You're going to make me lose control," he whispered, his voice rough, a hint of warning in his tone. You shrugged off his jacket, ditched your own, and unbuttoned his shirt, your eyes locked on his. Slowly, deliberately, you unzipped his pants, your hands a little shaky, but definitely not from being scared. His eyes met yours, all hot and bothered, a burning intensity you could feel all the way down to your core.

"You know what you're doing, right?" he whispered, his voice all husky, laced with anticipation..

You smirked, a flicker of defiance in your eyes.

"I do," you said, feeling your own temperature rise, a delicious heat spreading through your body. You knelt down, your hands sliding down his legs as you pulled his boxers down, revealing his hard, throbbing cock.

He was so ready, pulsing with a life of its own. It was thick and long, a sight that made your breath hitch. You licked the tip, just teasing him, drawing out the anticipation, before taking him fully into your mouth. His hands gripped your hair, not too tight, as you sucked him, moaning against his skin. You took him deep, your saliva slicking his length, going harder, teasing the head with your tongue, circling it, savoring the taste of him.

He tasted so good, a mix of musk and heat, a primal flavor that made you want to devour him. "Fuck," he groaned, his voice thick with pleasure. "You're so fucking good. Keep going, baby, you're driving me wild....Don't stop."

You gagged a little, taking him even deeper, and he let out a ragged breath, a sound of pure surrender. "Oh, fuck… that's it… that's exactly what I fucking needed. You're going to make me lose it."

You pulled back, a little breathless yourself, your lips still tingling from his taste. You quickly got rid of your bra and panties, feeling his eyes on you, all hot and heavy, he was seeing you for the first time.

He looked at you with so much raw want, such overwhelming lust, it was kind of crazy, a primal hunger you mirrored in your own gaze.

"You're a goddess," he breathed, his voice reverent.

You took his hand and pulled him closer, then he scooped you up in his arms like you weighed nothing and carried you to the sofa. He laid you down gently, then knelt between your legs, his eyes never leaving yours.

"You're driving me fucking insane," he whispered, his voice thick with desire, heavy with lust.

He kissed you deeply, a kiss that stole your breath and made your head spin, then his lips trailed down your neck, to your breasts, teasing and licking, his tongue dancing across your skin, setting your nerve endings on fire.

"Oh, fuck....Yes..." you groaned as his tongue found your clit, sending a jolt of pure pleasure through you. You moaned, arching into his touch, your body responding instinctively.

"I want you inside me," you gasped, your voice hoarse with need.

"Come on," you whispered, a playful glint in your eyes. "Say that thing."

He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest, and kissed you softly.

"Let's dive in, shall we?" he murmured against your lips.

He entered you slowly, carefully, like he was savoring every second, his eyes on yours, watching your face for every flicker of pleasure, every sign of surrender.

It was a slow burn, every inch of him filling you, stretching you, making you ache for more, a sweet torment that made you want to scream his name.

"Fuck," he groaned, his voice thick with lust.

"You feel so fucking good. So tight. So wet."

"Harder, Pedro," you begged, your voice trembling with need. "Please…fuck me harder." Your nails dug into his shoulders. "You're so good..you feel so big…"

He did what you said, his movements getting more urgent, more intense, his thrusts deeper, more insistent, each one sending waves of pleasure crashing through you.

He pulled back a little, teasing you, before plunging back in, driving you both closer to the edge.

"Ride me," he commanded, his voice rough, his eyes burning with desire.

You straddled him, his huge cock sliding inside you, filling you completely.

You started moving, faster at first, then slowing down, teasing him with swirling motions, grinding against him, feeling him pulse inside you.

"Keep going, baby," he said, his hands gripping your hips, guiding you, pushing you higher. "You're doing great...Oh shit…oh shit…oh fuck…"

He gripped your hips tighter, his moans echoing through the room, a symphony of lust and pleasure. "You're going to make me fucking cum. I'm so close…"

His breath hitched, his body tensing.

He was so close, and you were definitely close too, the waves of pleasure washing over you in ever-increasing intensity.

"I want you to cum inside me," you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation. "I'm on the pill." You started bouncing harder on him.

"Fuck yes..fucking amazing. Yeah, that's it… fuck yeah…" he said, his eyes widening, his breath catching in his throat. Then, he let out a guttural groan, a sound of pure release, as you both came at the same time, your bodies convulsing together, the world exploding in a rush of pure sensation.

You looked down and saw your juices mixing with his on his cock, a visual testament to the raw intimacy you just shared.

"Best fuck ever," you breathed, kissing him hard, your lips still tingling from his touch.

"You're fucking incredible," he murmured, his lips brushing yours, a soft smile on his face.

"Haven't felt like this in… years. You've given me the best orgasm I've had in months… years, actually" you say.

You showered together, the water running over you, washing away the sweat but not the memory of what had just happened. He pulled you close again, his hands finding your curves, his fingers tracing the lines of your body, and you guys did it again, hot and fast, fueled by the lingering embers of passion.

He entered you from behind, his hands cupping your breasts, his fingers teasing your clit, bringing you close to the edge again. "Oh, fuck," he groaned against your neck. "You're going to make me cum again."

And you did it.

Later, wrapped in towels, you gave him a beer, and you had some wine, the quiet intimacy between you a stark contrast to the wildness of your sex.

"You're fucking gorgeous," he said, his eyes roaming over you, a look of pure adoration in his gaze. "Haven't felt like this in so long. You're… different. Special."

"Me neither," you said, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words.

"Do you… want to stay the night?"

He grinned, a genuine, happy grin that made your heart skip a beat.

"Definitely," he said. "I'm not going anywhere."

After you guys finally crashed, you gently touched his curls. He smiled at you, all sleepy and cute, and your heart did that little flip-flop thing. "Seriously," you whispered, "I can't believe this is actually happening. I feel so damn lucky."

"Hey," he mumbled, his voice all warm and sleepy. "It's you. You make it happen. I'm the lucky one."

"So," you asked, the question just popping out, "why do you like me?"

He looked at you, like he was trying to figure out where to start. "Okay, so," he said, a little smile playing on his lips, "I love how passionate you are. Like, the way you see things, and how you show it in your photos and poems… it's amazing. You're funny, even when you're being a little awkward, which, honestly, is kind of adorable. You’re crazy talented, but you don't act like it. You can be all vulnerable and then, boom, super strong. And I love how you dance when you think no one's watching. Your laugh is… it's the best. And your eyes… they tell the whole story."

"Whoa," you said, blushing a little. "That's… a lot."

"It's all true," he said, all serious. "Every bit of it."

"Can you pinch me?" you asked, giggling. "I think I'm dreaming."

He leaned in close, grinning. "Nope, not a dream," he whispered. He gave your cheek a gentle pinch, then kissed you softly, a sweet, lingering kiss.

"I really like you," you said, your heart all warm and fuzzy. "Like, really like you. It's not just because you're, you know, you. It's… you're the kindest guy I've ever met. And I love your smile."

He chuckled, that warm, genuine sound you loved. "Thanks," he said.

"Seriously, though," you said. "I think God sent you as an apology for all the other jerks."

He laughed, a real, honest-to-goodness laugh. "Is that how it works?" he said, still chuckling.

"Pretty sure," you said.

He looked at you, all serious now, his eyes meeting yours. "Well," he said, his voice low and soft, "I think he sent me an angel." And then he kissed you, a deep, passionate kiss that said everything. His lips moved against yours, all hungry and tender at the same time, and you were pretty sure your knees would have buckled if you weren't already lying down.

You guys held each other close, all tangled up, just enjoying being together. And then, finally, you just drifted off, all warm and cozy and happy.

💓

You woke up early, a happy feeling still buzzing inside you. You slipped out of bed quietly, careful not to wake him, and got ready for the day. Then, you headed to the kitchen, suddenly energized. Pancakes with fresh berries seemed like the perfect start to the morning. As you cooked, you put on some music, humming along and swaying to "Kiss," lost in your own little world.

The music wasn't too loud, just a nice background to your funny kitchen dance. Suddenly, he appeared in the doorway, still half-asleep, his eyes heavy-lidded.

"Ohh," he murmured, sniffing the air. "What's that smell? It smells amazing."

He came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, and started humming the words of the song in your ear.

And I can't get enough of you, baby

Can you get enough of me?

The warmth of his body against yours, the sound of his voice… you melted. It was pure bliss.

You turned around, your hands going to his face. You kissed him softly. "Breakfast and coffee are ready," you said, your voice a little husky.

"You're incredible," he said, his eyes sparkling. "You’re like a dream come true.”

You sat at the kitchen table, devouring the pancakes. He loved the berries, and you loved them with whipped cream.

You playfully put a dollop of whipped cream in your mouth, then chuckled at his expression. He picked up a tiny strawberry and gently placed it between your lips, then leaned in and kissed you softly.

"You're something else," he murmured, his voice warm. "Absolutely breathtaking."

He suddenly grew a little quiet.

"I have a flight this afternoon to Los Angeles," he said, a hint of sadness in his voice.

"Going home." He looked at you, his eyes filled with a longing. "I wish I could stay."

You reached across the table and took his hand, squeezing it gently. You were sad too.

"I'll miss you," you said.

You exchanged phone numbers, and he promised to call as soon as he got home. Then, you went to get ready, deciding to channel your inner femme fatale. When you came out of the bedroom, he stopped and stared, his jaw dropping slightly.

"Oh my God," he breathed. "How am I supposed to leave now? Look at you."

He kissed you deeply, his hands cupping your face. "Promise me you'll visit," he said, his voice urgent.

"I promise," you replied, your heart aching at the thought of him leaving.

"You're so kind," he said, his eyes shining with affection. "So beautiful. Inside and out." He pulled you into a long, tight hug, holding you close like he never wanted to let go. "I think," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, "I think I'm falling in love with you."

"I think I already am," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

And then he was gone, leaving a hole in your heart. You already missed him.

🤍

Hours later, at work, a little cloud of sadness hung over you. The high of the weekend had faded, leaving you feeling strangely empty. You missed him already. Then, your phone buzzed. It was a short call from him. He’d gotten home safe. "Hey," he said, his voice warm and familiar, a welcome sound after the silence. "Just wanted to let you know I made it. I'll call you tonight, okay?"

"Okay," you replied, trying to keep the eagerness out of your voice. Inside, you were doing a little happy dance.

The wait was agonizing. You went home, took a quick shower, grabbed a bite to eat, and tried to distract yourself with a book and a glass of wine. Finally, your phone rang. It was a video call from him. Relief washed over you.

"Hey," he said, his face filling the screen. He looked tired but happy. "I've been thinking about you all day," he confessed. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too," you said, trying to sound casual, though your heart was pounding.

"Listen," he said, a hopeful look in his eyes. "Would you… could you maybe come out next weekend? To LA?"

"Really?" you asked, a smile spreading across your face. "You want me to?"

"More than anything," he said. "I can't wait to see you again."

"I miss you too," you admitted, trying to keep it together. You didn’t want to get all emotional and start crying on the call, but he saw right through you.

"Hey," he said softly, "are you okay?"

"Yeah, just… missing you," you said, blinking back tears. "And, actually, next weekend is my birthday. So, yeah, that would be amazing."

"Perfect," he said, his smile widening. "We'll celebrate. I'll make it the best birthday ever. I promise. Just… get here safely. I'll be waiting."

"I will," you said, your voice full of warmth. "I can't wait."

After the call ended, you couldn't stop smiling. Even though you were exhausted, sleep was elusive. Your mind was racing with thoughts of him, of LA, of your birthday weekend. You finally drifted off, a happy anticipation filling your dreams.

Thank you for the reading 💜

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Chapter 3

Chapter 1