#c: pedro

[vanecssakirby]

My favourite movie husband. With Ebon's Emmy win and being living legend—I think a celebration dinner is a must. I was thinking about hosting a dinner party on Sunday. Are you free? Also, I’ve got some good news and a confession. I finally finished season 3 of The Mandalorian. I know, I know—please don’t divorce me for being such a dreadful movie wife who took this long. Feel free to roast me at dinner. / @ppcscal

[dakotajchnson]

Okay, I know it hasn’t been long, but I’m already missing my new best friend. Seriously, the press is hilarious—they can't seem to wrap their heads around a guy and a girl just being friends. Have you seen those ridiculous articles? As if I wasn't engaged. Anyway, how’s life in your world? Tell me everything. I just saw the new stills for Gladiator and, it looks so fucking epic. Can't wait to see you kicking ass on the big screen. / @pedrooopascal

[jkrasinski]

@pedrobpascvl, this is me reaching out to beg you to find a way to get me a role in the Star Wars universe. It's all I want out of life. ...which is not to say that I'm not appreciative of other aspects of my life, I just feel like I've ticked every other box: hot wife, cute kids, comedy, horror... now please give me sci-fi. And preferably don't make me actually beg.

[salome-c]

The Mandalorian Incorrect quotes.

[joelscruff]

I AM INCOHERENT

[userjoel]

THE LAST OF US — 1.01 tidbits,  joel+sarah ver.

[tinycozycomfort]

made by hand

pairing: contractor!joel miller x housewife f!reader

day five of @pascalisbaby and i's joeltober: bondage -> read her day five here

summary: He has nothing to offer, after all; no love letter, no borrowed jacket, no wedding ring. This is all he has to show his devotion, to seal his promise—a fist full of glossy blue and the willingness to unfurl his body and scoop out his insides just to allow you a place to lay. All he can give you is himself.

warnings/tags: no outbreak, bondage, unprotected piv, joel's pov, age gap (joel is 40s, reader is not), yearning, dom/sub dynamics, joel is mushy, fixation, pet names (sweetheart, honey, etc), infidelity (reader is married)

word count: 1.5k

rating: explicit! 18+ only, mdni

a/n: in the same universe as this one-shot but set far enough after to be readable w/out it!

main masterlist

Joel doesn’t know what he did to be able to have you like this—to be able to steal this time from you—when you have so much else.

Even worse, you’re a dream. Soft and gorgeous and strung up for him, belly flush to the mattress with your wrists laid over the knobs of your spine, gathered in a twist of baby blue. 

He sits against the backs of your thighs, his own bracketing the swell of your hips, cock bobbing in a sticky pool over the smooth surface of your inner leg. You suck in a breath and punch out a whine each time you can feel the firmness of him, grazing over every slice of skin except where he knows you want him most. 

He peers down, runs a hand across the link of your wrists, smiling when he sees the way you’ve tucked two fingers into the hollow of your palm—holding your own hand—like you have to discipline yourself one extra degree.

After taking his mouth and his fingers for as long as he’d pleased without too much push-back, your efforts don’t go unnoticed, “Go on and ask me what you want to ask me, sweetheart. Think you’ve earned that much.” 

“Can you touch me?” He can see you tug against where you’re bonded, an extension of your plea.

Joel thinks it’s a sad thing, the made-by-hand contraption he’s used to restrain you—a wide loop of tall ribbon sewn through the center to leave a pair of loose cuffs. He’d originally crafted it because he wanted to give you something pretty—a gift that wouldn’t cause concern or raise any unwanted attention, perfectly mundane when stowed in the safety of your sock drawer. It was the first for-you-from-him that went beyond his body, something he selfishly hoped could also serve as a memento should he ever become just the past.

It took him one weekend to make and two months to bring to you, driving up that long stretch of unfinished pavement and pulling it out of his pocket, red-cheeked and anxious. The seams are jagged where he spent hours sealing them shut, barreling over each other in a weave to keep the integrity, the deep color of the thread more than a few shades off—steel against pastel. He had tried to hide the imperfections, smooth side up in his hand as he muttered some lame preamble about something nicer than using the underwear, sometimes. He remembers the face you made at him when you unwound his hold, no huff of laughter at his break in character like he thought, telling him you loved it. 

It’s the only thing you use now.

“‘M already all over you; already put so much of me on you, in you. What do you mean, baby? Be more specific.” 

“I need you—need it inside.”

He tugs on the center strip—the binding—rolling a finger over the lip to tighten the slack that allows the accessory to be slip-on. That feature, other than making the contraption reusable, alleviated the issue of markings; his stomach sinks when he’s reminded evidence is even a factor.

He bends down, initially careful to keep his cock at surface level when he hovers over you, the bristle of his beard behind your ear making him sigh, that spark of possessiveness bringing something hungrier, “Say it again.”

“Can you please put–”

“Don’t be smart. You know what I want to hear; say it again.”

Tipping forward on his knees, he lets the length of him run down the crest of your ass, passing through where he can feel your heartbeat, shining folds of flesh that beg to be parted—ever the fool who can’t deny you much for long.

“I need you.” 

His chest constricts, heart dimpling underneath where you’re always holding it in your clutch; just the weight of your desire for him is enough to pull his body down through the ground, to the other side of the earth. He needs you, too, so desperately. Naively, in moments like this, with declarations like that, he sees success in all of this—sees keeping you.

Joel leans back, thumb sliding against the stripe of wet at your cunt, peeling back the seam to get a better look at the hole he wants so horribly to fill. His cock aches, heavy and hot and ready to take. 

He wishes he could savor it—tries to every time—but he never knows how long this will last. How long it will be before you attend the couples counseling sessions your husband asks of you. How long before you decide that a house and kids and the life he can’t provide for you might actually be enough. How long it’ll be before you just tire of him. So he’s greedy, takes everything you feed him straight to the stomach; he doesn’t have the patience to chew, in fear of not being able to finish. 

He has nothing to offer, after all; no love letter, no borrowed jacket, no wedding ring. This is all he has to show his devotion, to seal his promise—a fist full of glossy blue and the willingness to unfurl his body and scoop out his insides just to allow you a place to lay. All he can give you is himself. 

And he does—uses that exploring hand to guide the head of his cock to the slip of warmth you so meanly demand him to enter, so sweetly beg him to stay in.

“Again.”

He rolls his other wrist to gather up more of that silk, dragging the mess of limbs higher up your back, both for leverage and to remind you he’s strong—worth that, too.

When he slides himself in, he can feel the squeeze run through to the very tips of his toes, the points of his ears—boiling, syrupy heat that forces his body to lock up, terrified to fall over and take his last breath as a result.

“I’ll give you as much of this cock as you want, honey. Just want to hear a few little words.”

He pushes in firmly despite his threats, and so easily does he meet the end of you, apex of your womb perfectly made to receive him, like you’d been fitted for each other. He pants as silently as he can, setting aside his pleasure in favor of yours, not even to be distracted by his own voice. 

Joel forces as much of his weight as you can handle on the bundle at your back, swinging into you with the power of everything he’s too afraid to confess. He can fuck that reassurance into you, instead—make up for his inability to be confident in those more tender moments with the role he takes in this swirl of lust. 

He can tell by the way you constrict around him that you’re close, the squelch of where you meet heightening every time he moves in to the hilt.

“I’m gonna come, Joel. Fuck.”

“Don’t like askin’ twice. C’mon, focus.”

He bows again, bracing his legs so he can wedge his right arm through the slot at your hip, elbow flat to the bed as he reaches down, in. Your clit is smeared in your slick, running down from where he’s giving you everything, and thinks maybe you understand what he’s trying to tell you without words. He pushes as best he can against the bead, fingers working rhythmically to bring you there, knowing he won’t be able to take much more.

You’re crying now, it seems, from the broken shape your words take as they fall out, “I-I, Joel. I need you. Please. I love you.”

He can’t handle that, the pulse of his orgasm almost immediate, the fierce curl of your cunt around him no help. You whine under him, and if it weren’t for the risk of crushing you, he’d take his mouth to yours.

He fucks you until he can’t, until he expresses his response to exhaustion. He’s heaving by the end, forehead to your shoulder where it’s glued down with sweat. 

It takes him much longer now to come down, to shimmy out from over your body, to release and turn and fold you into his lap. 

Cruelly, he keeps the silk in his palm, thinking he can force another memory into it by making it bear witness to all of this; another knot in your ‘relationship’—as close as this will ever come to being that, anyway. 

Joel breathes at the crown of your skull, hair tickling his lips when he finally decides to break the silence, “Do you really?” And before it has the chance to be taken away from him, “I love you, too.”

[emeralddss]

studying at the library and new books <3

[nataliecstrange]

“We have a job to do”

I absolutely balled my eyes out at the most recent episode, I am ADORING this series.

[peachyspaceslvt]

feeling my brain chemistry changing rn

[leclercskiesahead]

Every day we thank Carlos for wearing those shorts and the backwards cap

Alessio Morgese and Sam Bloxham

[whoregaylorenzo]

AUSTIN 2024: Race winner Maverick Viñales and second placed Pedro Acosta embrace in parc fermé after the Americas Grand Prix (Gold and Goose via Motorsport Images)

[eastvillagetripster]

Doctors Orders

Dr. Pedro Albizu Campos by muralist Danielle Mastrion, East 12th Street (off of Avenue C), East Village, New York City.

[salome-c]

Strange Way of Life (2023) trailer + Tumblr reactions

[joelscruff]

i need medical attention

[itcars]

Porsche 911 Carrera S

Image by Pedro C. Vieira || IG