#pedro pascal fanfic

[joelsrose]

i’d absolutely love to see your take on a jackson era *SPOILER* (not dead obviously) joel who meets a new comer who’s harsher and more close off than him and only wants to use him for sex and he ends up falling first??🙏🏼🫶🏻 i adore your writing and also can’t wait for more TIP, G&R, and FD 🫶🏻🫶🏻

ok this prompt seriously did something for me and i went feral - enjoy (warnings smut/feelings - both equally as dangerous) thank you so much for your request ! i need the inspo sometimes so feel free to message me in my inbox with more requests xx

also update tangled in paradise hppefully out in the next DAY

all my work (though this needs updating)

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

The lukewarm air clung to your skin as you sat at the bar in the Tipsy Bison, a glass in hand, the bitter burn of the whiskey still fresh on your tongue. It was a disgusting kind of heat, the kind that stuck to you and made you wish for a shower—or another drink. It was late, later than you usually stayed out, and the bar was sparsely populated, just a few regulars nursing their usuals in the dim light.

You flagged down the bartender, your fingers drumming lightly against the counter. "Another," you said, meeting their eye. They nodded, reaching for the bottle.

Your gaze drifted as you waited, lazily scanning the room. That’s when you saw him.

A man sat at the far end of the bar, hunched over a glass of whiskey, his posture heavy. He looked older, maybe early fifties, his face etched with lines that spoke of a hard life, not just years. His dark hair was streaked with silver, the strands curling slightly at the ends, and a thick, scruffy beard framed a scowl that seemed permanently etched into his features. His eyes were sharp, though, hidden beneath furrowed brows as he stared at the bottle behind the bar like it held all the answers.

Your brow arched in curiosity. You didn’t recognize him exactly, but he looked familiar—someone you’d seen in passing. Without overthinking it, you slid off your stool and moved down the bar, settling yourself in the seat next to his. He didn’t look at you, didn’t even acknowledge your presence. But that didn’t stop you from giving him a once-over, shamelessly.

“Can I help you?” he asked, his voice low and gruff, still not turning to meet your gaze.

You chuckled, leaning back slightly. “Do I know you?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Doubt it,” he sighed.

“Oh,” you said, letting the word hang in the air. “You’re Tommy’s brother, right?”

He sighed again, the kind of exhale that sounded more like an admission. “That’s me.”

You smirked, lifting the fresh shot the bartender had set down in front of you. “Hotter than your brother, though,” you said before downing it in one smooth motion, the whiskey burning all the way down.

That got his attention. His head turned, and he finally looked at you—dark eyes narrowing slightly, lips parting as if to say something but stopping short. He looked genuinely taken aback, like no one had ever said something like that to him before. “The fuck are you talkin’ about?” he asked, his tone more stunned than angry.

You shrugged, giving him an unabashed once-over again. “I’m just sayin’. You’re good-looking,” you repeated, meeting his gaze directly.

He scoffed, a rough sound that came from deep in his chest. “Look, lady,” he said, shaking his head, “I’m way past relationships, so I suggest you just walk away.”

“Who said anything about relationships?” you replied, your tone light and teasing.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

The room was bathed in the dim glow of a bedside lamp, shadows dancing against the walls as the dresser rattled softly with the force of his movements. Joel had you pinned there, caged in by his arms, his chest pressed against your back as if daring you to pull away—not that you wanted to. His breath was hot against your ear, low grunts and growls spilling out as he moved with deliberate, unrelenting intensity.

Your clothes were still on, mostly. His jeans were tugged down just enough, your own pulled halfway down your thighs, bunched awkwardly as you clutched the edge of the dresser, trying to anchor yourself against the tidal wave building inside you.

“Joel,” you gasped, your head falling back against his shoulder as your grip tightened on the wood. “I’m—God, I’m gonna—”

“Fuckin’ take it,” he growled, his voice thick and ragged, one hand gripping your hip so tightly you were sure it’d leave marks. “You’re right there. C’mon.”

The sensation overwhelmed you, and with a strangled cry, your body broke apart. “Joel!” you screamed, your nails raking against his forearm as you bucked beneath him, the dresser creaking in protest.

Joel groaned deeply, pulling out just in time, his breath heavy and labored. He finished on his hand with a grunt, his forehead dropping briefly to your shoulder as he let out a long sigh, the tension draining from his body.

You both stood there for a moment, chests heaving, the room filled with nothing but the sound of your breathing and the faint rustle of clothing as he stepped back, adjusting himself.

“Damn,” he muttered, his voice still rough as he wiped his hand clean with a nearby rag, tossing it aside like it meant nothing, “You all right?”

You leaned against the dresser, still catching your breath, your legs shaking slightly as you straightened up and fixed your clothes. “I think so,” you said with a wry chuckle, running a hand through your hair. “Well… that escalated.”

Joel just shrugged, his eyes sweeping over you before he grabbed his belt, threading it back through the loops with practiced ease. “Yeah, well,” he said gruffly, his tone casual, though there was a flicker of something deeper in his gaze. “Guess we’re doin’ this now.”

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

It had been a few months now, and the routine had settled into something both comfortable and volatile. It was almost always the same—you’d show up at Joel’s door late at night, the moon high and the town quiet. He’d answer in a wrinkled shirt and tousled hair, his face carved with irritation that didn’t quite mask the way his gaze swept over your form.

“Seriously?” he’d mutter as you stepped past him, already kicking off your boots and shimmying out of your jeans in the doorway.

“You’re too horny for your own good,” he’d grumble, his brow furrowing in that way that somehow made him look even more rugged.

“No rest for the wicked,” you’d shoot back with a sly grin, already dashing upstairs, leaving him standing there shaking his head and muttering under his breath.

Joel always followed, though. No matter how much he sighed or rolled his eyes, he’d climb the stairs after you, his heavy footfalls a sound you’d grown to expect. By the time he found you, sprawled out and ready, he was already hard, already resigned to the fact that you weren’t going to leave him in peace.

It wasn’t soft, not with Joel. It was rough hands, bitten-off curses, and bruising grips that left reminders on your skin. You’d both cum, panting and wrecked, and then you’d slip out of his bed and pull your clothes back on like it was nothing.

At first, you’d knock when you came over, but after too many nights of him stumbling half-asleep to the door, he’d shoved a key into your hand. “Sick of you bangin’ on my door at all hours,” he’d grunted, and you’d just laughed, pocketing it without a second thought.

It worked for you—this arrangement. Whenever the day had been too hard, when your fingers weren’t cutting it and the frustration bubbled over, Joel was there. He was steady, dependable in his own gruff way. But there were rules, even if they weren’t spoken out loud. You never kissed. It just wasn’t part of the deal.

Instead, you’d press your lips to his collarbone, to the patch of skin where his pulse thrummed, tasting salt and sweat. He didn’t complain, but he didn’t ask for more, either. Maybe that’s why it worked—you didn’t ask for more, either.

Tonight had been no different. Joel had pulled you apart, his hands gripping your thighs as he thrust into you, his breath hot against your neck as you came for the second time. You were still catching your breath when you rolled off him, reaching for your shirt and pulling it over your head.

“It’s cold,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly as he sat up. “You could just ... spend the night.”

The words were casual, thrown out like they didn’t mean anything. But they did. Joel didn’t offer people to stay. Joel didn’t let people in. And yet, here he was, offering you the kind of closeness he didn’t give anyone else.

“Nah,” you said breezily, oblivious to the weight of what he’d just said. You zipped up your jeans, running a hand through your hair as you glanced at him. “Got patrol early. You know how it is.”

Joel nodded stiffly, his face giving nothing away, though his eyes lingered on you as you grabbed your jacket. “Yeah,” he said, the word rough and clipped. “Sure.”

You slung your bag over your shoulder, giving him a small smile. “Anyway,” you said, already moving toward the door, “see you when I see you.”

He swallowed hard as he watched you leave, the door clicking shut behind you. For a long moment, he sat there, staring at the empty space you’d left behind. Joel didn’t have the words to explain it, not even to himself. He didn’t want to need this, didn’t want to need you. But he did.

And as much as he hated to admit it, he hated even more that he wished you’d stayed.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

The kitchen was dim, the faint hum of the fridge the only sound besides your heavy breathing and the occasional low groan from Joel as he worked between your thighs.

You were spread out on the countertop, your patrol gear still half on, boots kicked off somewhere by the door. The ache from hours on horseback had burned away, replaced with a sharper, hotter need that only Joel could satisfy.

You’d barely stumbled in, desperate, and Joel had opened the door with a gruff sigh, already knowing what you wanted before you even spoke. "Needy as hell," he muttered, but his hands had been on you in seconds, pulling you inside, settling you on the counter like it was second nature.

And now? Now, his tongue moved against you with an unrelenting, agonizing precision. You moaned, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling just enough to make him grunt in response. His beard scraped deliciously against your thighs, grounding you in the moment as the coil in your belly tightened with every flick of his tongue.

"Fuck, Joel," you groaned, your voice rough and breathless as he dragged another moan from you. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place like you might dare to squirm away. This wasn’t like usual. Normally, Joel was fast, efficient—out and over. He didn’t linger. But tonight? Tonight, he was taking his damn time, his lips and tongue teasing you, coaxing you closer and closer to the edge until you thought you might lose your mind.

“Yeah, darlin’?” he hummed against your core, his voice low and gravelly, the vibration making you arch off the countertop. He looked up briefly, his dark eyes hooded, lips slick and glistening as he smirked. “What’s that? You need somethin’?”

“Joel,” you gasped, your head falling back as his tongue flicked over your clit again, slow and deliberate. Your chest heaved as your nails dug into his scalp, desperate for something to hold onto. “I—shit—I’ve got a shift in ten minutes.”

“Then you’d better hurry up,” he rasped against you, his breath warm against your sensitive skin. But he didn’t hurry. No, if anything, he slowed down, his tongue tracing deliberate, lazy circles that made your breath hitch and your thighs tremble.

“You’re—” you gasped, biting down on your lip as he sucked gently on your clit, “you’re taking too long.”

Joel chuckled low in his throat, the sound dark and teasing as he kissed along the inside of your thigh, his stubble scratching against the tender skin. “Ain’t my fault you came in here all wound up,” he said, his tone gruff but laced with something softer, something dangerous that he wasn’t saying. “Maybe you should learn some patience.”

“Patience?” you nearly whined, your voice cracking as his tongue returned to your clit, working you over with a precision that made your toes curl. “Oh, fuck, Joel—”

He didn’t respond this time, just groaned softly against you, his grip tightening on your hips as he brought you to the brink. You shattered with a loud cry, your thighs trembling around his head as waves of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you breathless and boneless on the countertop.

Joel pulled back slowly, his lips glistening as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes locked on yours. “There,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, like gravel underfoot. “That’s better.”

You were still catching your breath, your chest rising and falling as you pulled your pants up. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, though there was no heat in your words.

Joel just smirked, stepping back to let you slide off the counter. “Better get goin’, then,” he said, his voice casual, but his eyes lingered on you like he didn’t want you to leave.

And as you grabbed your boots and headed out the door, Joel stood there in the kitchen, his hands braced on the counter where you’d been moments ago, hating the way he already missed you.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Joel’s birthdays weren’t something he talked about. Hell, you were pretty sure he hated the day entirely. No celebrations, no well wishes—just another date on the calendar he could ignore. But when you knocked on his door that afternoon, a half-smushed cupcake clutched in your hand, you decided you didn’t care much for his rules.

You knocked again, shifting on your feet. The air was cool, a sharp contrast to the warmth you’d stolen earlier in the kitchen as you snuck eggs to make the damn thing. It wasn’t pretty, but it was something.

Finally, the door creaked open, revealing Joel in his usual worn flannel and jeans. His brows lifted slightly when he saw you, the corners of his mouth twitching in what almost passed for a smile. “Hey,” he said, stepping back to let you in. “Come on in.”

You slid past him, your boots clunking softly against the wood floor as he shut the door behind you. His place was as it always was—quiet, a little too clean, with that faint woodsy smell that clung to everything Joel owned. He turned to you, jerking his head toward the couch. “You wanna do it here, or… head upstairs?” His voice was gruff, casual, like it didn’t matter much either way.

You snorted, crossing your arms as you arched a brow at him. “You make me sound like a sex addict, Joel.”

His brow furrowed, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as if to say, Aren’t you, though?

You rolled your eyes, pulling the slightly battered cupcake from behind your back. “Actually,” you began, your tone teasing as you held it out to him, “I’m here because it’s someone’s birthday.”

Joel’s expression froze for a moment, his eyes flicking to the cupcake and then back to you. “The hell’s this?” he asked, his voice softer now, tinged with something you couldn’t quite place.

“It’s a cupcake,” you said, grinning as you waved it in front of him. “Took some serious effort, too. You know how hard it is to get eggs without pissing everyone off?”

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he took the cupcake from your hands, his calloused fingers brushing yours for just a moment. “You steal eggs for this?”

"Hey," you teased, "I baked for you. That’s a luxury, you know—not all my conquests get this kind of treatment."

Joel huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he leaned against the counter. “Conquests?” he repeated, his voice thick with amusement. “You’re fuckin’ ridiculous.”

“Seriously, though,” you said, stepping closer, “Happy birthday, Miller.”

“Thanks,” he muttered. He looked at it for a moment before letting out a low sigh. “Another fuckin’ year older.”

You smirked, walking towards the couch, “Don’t worry,” you said with a wink, “The machinery still works, right?”

Joel barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

“I’ve been told,” you shot back, your grin widening as you plopped down onto his couch, making yourself comfortable. “So,” you started, glancing over at him, “any big plans for your big day?”

Joel followed, lowering himself onto the couch with a groan, his body settling heavily into the worn cushions. “No,” he said, running a hand through his messy hair, his fingers raking through the dark strands streaked with silver. “Not really my thing.”

You tilted your head, watching him for a moment. He looked tired, more so than usual, the lines around his eyes deeper, his shoulders heavier. Birthdays weren’t just something Joel ignored—they were something he carried, quietly, like an old wound he didn’t let anyone see.

“Guess that’s why I’m here,” you said lightly, breaking the silence. “Can’t let you sit around brooding all night, now, can I?”

Joel glanced at you, his dark eyes narrowing slightly, though there was a hint of something softer there, too. “You do that a lot? Rescue lonely old men on their birthdays?”

You grinned, leaning back against the cushions. “Only the ones who can still get it up.”

That got another chuckle out of him, the sound low and rough, like gravel underfoot. He shook his head, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, the cupcake still untouched in his hands.

For a moment, you both sat in silence, the faint hum of the fridge filling the room. It was comfortable, easy, the kind of quiet that felt rare in a world that was always teetering on the edge of chaos.

“So really, no plans?” you asked, edging closer to him on the couch, feigning innocence as you tucked one leg beneath you.

“Nah,” he muttered, his eyes darting away from yours. But he wasn’t fast enough for you to miss the way his jeans were beginning to strain, the fabric tightening over his thighs.

Your gaze dropped to his lap, catching the telltale tension in his jeans as they began to tighten. A smirk tugged at the corners of your lips. “Well,” you began, your hand finding its way to his thigh, your fingers brushing just a little too close to where you knew he was already hard. “I think I could give you a birthday present you might actually enjoy, Miller.”

His laugh was low, almost reluctant, but you saw the faintest twitch of a smile on his lips. “And you deny bein’ a sex addict,” he said, his voice laced with sarcasm.

“Hey,” you shot back, your grin widening as your hand slid just a little higher, your fingers brushing the seam of his jeans. “I’m not the one who’s about to cum in their pants.” You tilted your head, nodding toward the very obvious bulge straining against the zipper.

“It’s a fuckin’ Pavlovian response,” he said, chuckling under his breath, though his voice was strained. “You walk through that door, and my body just knows what’s comin’.”

“Doesn’t sound like you’re complaining,” you replied, your voice dropping lower as you slid off the couch, sinking to your knees between his legs.

“Fuck,” Joel muttered, his voice tight as he glanced down at you, his eyes dark and hooded. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

“C’mon, birthday boy,” you teased, your fingers trailing up his thigh as you grinned up at him. “I’ll let you cum in my mouth—just this once,” you added with a wink, your nails scraping lightly against the inside of his leg.

Joel huffed out a laugh, though it came out more like a groan as his hips shifted toward you instinctively. “You always let me do that,” he muttered, his tone gruff as his hands moved to his belt, undoing it with practiced ease.

“Yeah, well,” you said, your voice softening as you tugged his jeans and boxers down in one smooth motion, freeing him. “Consider it my gift to you.”

Joel let out a low curse, his head falling back again as you leaned in, your hand wrapping around him as you pressed a soft, teasing kiss to the tip. He was already throbbing, his body betraying the control he usually clung to so tightly.

As you worked him with your hands and mouth, Joel groaned, his fingers tangling in your hair. His usual gruff demeanor was slipping, replaced with raw, unguarded need, and you couldn’t help but smirk around him.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he muttered, his voice rough as his hips bucked slightly. “You’re too good at this.”

“Maybe,” you teased, pulling back just enough to glance up at him, your eyes meeting his. “But I think you’re enjoying it.”

Joel swallowed hard, his jaw clenched as he looked down at you, his dark eyes clouded with something you couldn’t quite place. “Yeah,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “Too much.”

His head tipped back against the couch with a groan, his hand tightening in your hair. “Fuck,” he murmured, his voice gravelly and raw. “Just like that, baby. Just like that.”

You didn’t stop, your head moving in a steady rhythm, his quiet curses spurring you on. Your tongue worked him perfectly, coaxing those low, guttural noises from deep in his chest. His hips shifted slightly, a tension in his thighs that told you he was close, and you couldn’t help but smirk.

Pulling back for just a moment, you let a string of saliva trail from his tip to your lips, your breath hitching as you whispered, “Use my mouth.”

Joel’s head snapped forward at your words, his eyes locking onto yours with a heat that sent a shiver down your spine. “Fuck,” he muttered, his voice hoarse as his hand slid from your hair to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Alright. You sure about this?”

You nodded, your lips parting slightly as you gave him a wicked grin. “Positive.”

He didn’t waste any more time. His hand found its way back to your hair, his grip firm but careful as he guided you back to him. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice rough as gravel as you took him again, deeper this time, his hips rolling forward just enough to test your limits.

The sound he made was low and guttural, almost a growl, as he watched you, his free hand gripping the edge of the couch so tightly his knuckles went white. “Jesus,” he muttered, his voice breaking as your hands gripped his thighs for balance, your movements eager and unrelenting. “You’re… fuckin’ perfect.”

The tension in the room was electric, every noise, every breath amplifying the heat between you. Joel’s composure was unraveling, his usual stoic demeanor cracking as he gave in to you completely. And for a fleeting moment, as his fingers brushed against your cheek in a surprisingly tender gesture, you wondered if there was something more to the way he looked at you—something deeper.

But before the thought could settle, Joel groaned your name, the sound low and guttural, reverberating through the quiet room. His hips stuttered, his control slipping as he came, his hand tightening in your hair, his breaths ragged and uneven. You didn’t hesitate, swallowing every drop, the heat of him lingering on your tongue as you pulled back, licking your lips with a slow, deliberate motion that made his chest rise and fall even harder.

“Damn,” he muttered, his voice still thick with desire as he glanced down at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’re gonna kill me one of these days.”

You grinned, wiping your lips with the back of your hand as you pushed yourself up. “Wouldn’t want you going soft on me, Miller.”

“Fuck,” Joel groaned, running a hand through his hair as he stood, his other hand reaching for yours. “Let’s go upstairs,” he muttered, his voice rough but full of purpose. His cock brushed against his abdomen with each step, and the sight of him—disheveled, flushed, and fully undone—was enough to make your stomach flip.

You laughed, letting him guide you up the stairs. “I think I’ve corrupted you, Miller,” you teased, your voice laced with playful smugness.

Joel glanced over his shoulder, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. “Get on the bed,” he ordered, his tone firm but not harsh, sending a jolt of heat straight through you.

“Yes, sir,” you replied with a laugh, already peeling off your shirt as you stepped into the bedroom. But just as your fingers reached for the waistband of your pants, Joel’s hand caught yours, stopping you mid-motion.

“Slow,” he murmured, his voice low and almost tender, a stark contrast to the usual roughness. His eyes softened as he looked at you, his calloused thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Slow this time.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the shift in his tone. “Okay,” you said softly, nodding as you let your hands fall to your sides. His gaze lingered on you, searching, as if making sure you understood.

He took his time, his rough palms brushing against your skin as he worked your clothes off piece by piece, his eyes tracing every inch of you like he was memorizing it.

You felt bare—not just physically, but in a way that made your chest tighten. This wasn’t the hurried, primal need you were used to with Joel. This was different, heavier, as if he was letting you see a part of himself he usually kept locked away.

“Lie down,” Joel said, his voice soft but laced with that commanding edge that always made your stomach twist. You obeyed without hesitation, settling onto the bed as he climbed in after you, his weight dipping the mattress. He hovered over you, his hands braced on either side of your head, his dark eyes locking onto yours like he could see straight through you.

You bit your lip as you watched him, the room’s dim light catching the silver streaks in his hair. There was something in the way he looked at you tonight—something heavier, more deliberate, that made your pulse race. His hand moved slowly, his fingers brushing against your inner thigh, trailing higher until they found your core.

A sharp inhale escaped your lips, your hips hitching instinctively as his thumb pressed against you, teasing through the fabric. Joel’s eyes darkened, his brows furrowing slightly as if he was studying your reaction.

“You���re wet,” he murmured, his voice low and almost a growl, the words spoken as if they were a simple fact.

“Kinda what happens,” you hummed, your voice trembling as his lips brushed against your neck, leaving a trail of slow, deliberate kisses that made your skin burn.

But Joel didn’t stop. His thumb pressed firmer now, dragging a quiet moan from you as he spoke again, his words rough and laced with something possessive. “You’re wet,” he repeated, his lips grazing your ear, “for me.”

The way he said it sent a shiver down your spine, his voice curling around you like smoke, intoxicating and dangerous. His hand moved against you with a confidence that left no room for doubt, coaxing your body into responding to his every touch.

“Joel,” you whispered, your voice catching as his mouth found the hollow of your throat, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you gasp.

“Say it,” he murmured, his voice low and insistent as his hand slipped beneath your underwear, his fingers sliding through your slick heat. “Tell me you’re wet for me.”

Your head tilted back against the pillow, your breath hitching as your hands gripped his shoulders. “I am,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m wet for you.”

“Damn right you are,” Joel muttered, his lips pressing against your jaw as his fingers moved with agonizing precision. There was no teasing now, no pretense—just Joel, gruff and unrelenting, pulling you apart like he owned you.

You swallowed hard, your voice trembling as you looked up at him. “Fuck, I need your cock,” you said, your words raw and unfiltered.

Joel raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into the faintest of smirks. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly, the kind that sent shivers down your spine.

You nodded, biting your lip as he guided you, his hands firm yet careful, positioning you on your knees. He knew your favorite by now—doggy, fast and dirty, the kind of sex that didn’t leave room for intimacy, just raw need. But tonight, as he moved behind you, you reached back, stopping him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his brow furrowing as he looked at you, his hands lingering at your waist.

You turned to face him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “It’s your birthday,” you said softly, your voice lighter now, teasing but warm. “We’ll do it the way you like.”

Joel froze for a moment, his eyes scanning your face, searching for something. He didn’t say anything, but the shift in his expression was unmistakable—a flicker of vulnerability, quickly masked by his usual stoicism.

He didn’t ask how you knew. Joel might not have been one to talk, but you’d paid attention. You knew he always came quicker during missionary, the way he liked being able to see your face when you fell apart beneath him. You knew how he’d hitch your leg over his hip, how he liked the way it let him sink deeper.

You leaned back onto the bed, your fingers trailing along his forearm as you tugged him toward you. “C’mon, birthday boy,” you said, your voice softer now, the teasing edge replaced with something gentler. “Let me give you what you want.”

Joel’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes darkening as he climbed onto the bed, settling between your legs. He didn’t speak, but his hands said enough—the way they skimmed over your thighs, up your sides, lingering at your hips as if grounding himself.

He pushed into you slowly, achingly slow, his forehead still pressed to yours as he sank in fully. The stretch burned, but it was the kind of burn you craved, the kind that made your toes curl and your breath hitch. Joel groaned low in his throat, his grip on your thigh tightening as he began to move, his hips rolling into you with deliberate precision.

“Look at me,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, and you obeyed, your eyes locking onto his. It was too much—his gaze, the way his hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your flushed skin as he moved inside you. This wasn’t just sex anymore, not tonight.

“Fuck,” Joel muttered, his voice breaking as your nails raked lightly over his back. “You feel so damn good.”

“So do you,” you gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders as he hit that spot that made you see stars. “Joel—”

"Yeah, baby," Joel murmured, his voice rough and low as his forehead fell to your shoulder. His thrusts quickened, his hips snapping against yours in a way that made your whole body arch. “I got you,” he breathed, his words sending shivers down your spine.

“Fuck,” you groaned, your voice breaking as he pushed even deeper. “I feel you so deep,” you gasped, your fingers clawing at his back. The weight of him, the heat, the stretch—it was overwhelming in the best way.

Joel’s lips brushed against your neck, the coarse scrape of his beard a contrast to the softness of his mouth. He kissed you there, slow and deliberate, as though savoring the taste of your skin. But then, his kisses began to inch upward, moving with purpose—along the column of your neck, over your jaw, each one sending a ripple of heat through you.

You moaned, your hands gripping his shoulders as his lips lingered just below your chin. His pace quickened, his thrusts deeper, harder, but his kisses softer, more purposeful, like he was memorizing every inch of you.

“Joel,” you gasped, your voice trembling as his lips hovered dangerously close to yours. Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his dark, hooded gaze for a fleeting moment before they slipped shut again as he thrust into you with enough force to steal your breath.

He caught your wrists suddenly, pinning your hands above your head with one large, calloused hand, his grip firm but not harsh. The other hand slid under your thigh, hitching it higher to deepen the angle. “Let me,” he murmured, his voice raw and laced with something you hadn’t heard before—something close to desperation.

“Joel,” you warned, your voice trembling as his lips ghosted over yours, his breath hot and uneven against your mouth.

“Please,” he whispered, the single word heavy, his tone stripped of all its usual gruffness. And before you could respond, his lips met yours in a kiss so fervent, so unrestrained, that it stole every thought from your mind.

It wasn’t soft—it was passionate, consuming, like he’d been holding back for far too long. His mouth claimed yours, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that matched the way his body moved inside you. His tongue swept against yours, his grip on your wrists tightening as if to keep you grounded.

The kiss made everything shift, the weight of it hitting you like a wave. Joel wasn’t just fucking you anymore—he was with you, every touch, every movement speaking to something he couldn’t quite say out loud. His hips snapped harder now, his groans muffled against your lips as he swallowed every sound you made as you both finally came in perfect unison.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours as you both struggled to catch it. His dark eyes searched yours, his thumb brushing lightly over your wrist where he still held it above your head.

“Joel,” you whispered, your voice shaky, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on you.

But Joel didn’t say anything, not right away. Instead, he leaned down, capturing your lips in another kiss—softer this time, almost tender. His lips lingered on yours, like he was trying to memorize the feel of you, as if that kiss was meant to say what he couldn’t put into words. Whatever this was, it felt heavy, real, and it scared you more than you cared to admit.

You shifted, pulling away slightly to look at him. His face was uncharacteristically open, his usual guarded expression replaced with something raw, vulnerable. It was too much, too close, and you didn’t know what to say.

“Well,” you muttered, your voice breaking the silence as you pushed yourself up, your legs still shaky as you reached for your clothes. “I should probably go.”

Joel frowned, sitting up slightly, his bare chest glistening in the dim light as he watched you. “You’re leaving?” he asked, his voice gruff but tinged with something you didn’t expect—disappointment.

“Yeah,” you stammered, fumbling with your pants as you buttoned them. You avoided his gaze, focusing on the task at hand as you tried to come up with something, anything, to make this feel less... heavy. “I’ve, uh… I’ve got things to do,” you said finally, the excuse weak even to your own ears.

Joel leaned back against the headboard, his breathing still heavy, his eyes fixed on you as you moved around the room. He was silent for a long moment, and you felt the weight of his gaze like a physical thing, pressing down on you.

“You sure that’s why you’re leavin’?” he asked, his voice low but steady, his question cutting through the air like a knife.

You froze, your hands fumbling as you grabbed your jacket. You didn’t look at him, couldn’t look at him, because the way he was looking at you—like he was trying to figure you out, like he cared—was too much. “Yeah,” you said quickly, your voice flat. “That’s it.”

But Joel wasn’t stupid, and you knew he didn’t believe you. He let out a quiet sigh, his head tilting back against the headboard as he watched you, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re not built for this, are you?” he murmured, almost to himself.

You flinched, the words hitting closer to home than you wanted to admit. “Don’t make this something it’s not, Joel,” you said sharply, finally turning to face him. “It’s just sex.”

Joel’s jaw tightened, his gaze hardening as he studied you. “If that’s all it is,” he said, his voice rough, “then why are you runnin’?”

You didn’t have an answer for that—not one you were ready to admit, anyway. So instead, you pulled your jacket on, forcing a smile as you stepped toward the door. “See you around, Miller,” you said, your tone deliberately casual, as if the tension between you didn’t exist.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Joel’s words haunted you, replaying over and over in your head: “If that’s all it is, then why are you runnin’?”

It had been days since you’d last seen him, and you’d tried everything to shake him from your system. Your fingers weren’t enough, and humping your pillow only left you frustrated. Hell, you even considered finding someone else to fuck—someone who didn’t look at you the way Joel did, who didn’t make you feel like you were standing on the edge of something you didn’t know how to handle. But no matter what you did, deep down, you knew the truth: you didn’t just want someone. You needed him.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, glancing at the clock. It was past 1 a.m. Joel would be pissed—you knew that. But you didn’t care. The thought of another night without him was unbearable, and before you could overthink it, you were already out the door, making your way to his house.

The door creaked softly as you let yourself in, the weight of the key in your pocket feeling heavier than usual. You climbed the stairs quietly, the familiar scent of his house wrapping around you like a blanket. When you reached his room, the sight of him stopped you in your tracks.

Joel was fast asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily. The soft glow of moonlight streamed through the window, highlighting the silver in his hair, the lines on his face that seemed softer in sleep. For a moment, you hesitated, your resolve faltering as you watched him. He looked peaceful—something you rarely saw.

“Joel,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you stood at the edge of the bed. He didn’t stir. You tried again, a little louder this time. “Joel.”

He jolted awake with a start, his hand instinctively reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there. “Fucking hell,” he muttered, his voice thick with sleep as he squinted at you in the dim light. “You scared the shit outta me.” He reached over, flipping on the lamp. The warm light illuminated the room, his brow furrowed as he took you in.

“I could’ve shot you,” he grumbled, running a hand down his face as he sat up.

“Your gun’s downstairs,” you said simply, your tone light, though your heart was racing. You crossed your arms, standing awkwardly by the bed as he stared at you.

Joel’s eyes narrowed, his annoyance evident as he leaned back against the headboard. “The hell are you doin’ here? It’s one in the goddamn mornin’.”

You swallowed hard, your confidence wavering under his gaze. “I… I couldn’t sleep,” you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

He raised an eyebrow, his expression softening just slightly as he watched you. “So you thought wakin’ me up was a good idea?”

You shrugged, your lips twitching into a faint smirk despite yourself. “You’re awake now, aren’t you?”

Joel let out a quiet huff, shaking his head as he looked at you. His expression was unreadable, but it didn’t matter.

You knew this dance—knew how to dissolve the tension in the way you always did. Slowly, you reached for the hem of your shirt, starting to pull it over your head.

This you knew how to do.

“Stop,” he said, his voice low but firm. He sighed, sitting up straighter in bed, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “Just… stop.”

Your hands froze mid-motion, the fabric falling back into place as you stared at him. “Oh,” you muttered, the word quiet as you smoothed your shirt back down. “Okay.”

Joel’s jaw clenched, his eyes fixed on the floor as he avoided your gaze. “I think… we should stop,” he said finally, his voice rough, like the words were being dragged out of him.

“Stop what?” you asked, your brow furrowing as a sharp sting of disappointment coursed through you.

“This,” he said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “What we’ve been doin’. I think it’s time to stop.”

Your chest tightened, the words hitting you harder than you’d expected. You masked it with a scoff, trying to brush it off like it didn’t matter. “You got a girlfriend or something now?” you joked, your voice light, but the edge of bitterness still slipped through.

Joel’s head snapped up at that, his dark eyes meeting yours for a moment before he quickly looked away again. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe,” he muttered, his shoulders tensing.

It was a lie—you could see it clear as day. Joel wasn’t a good liar. Not to you.

“What?” you said, your brow furrowing deeper as you stared at him. “Since when?”

He shrugged, the motion stiff and unconvincing. “Couple weeks, maybe,” he said, still not meeting your eyes.

“Bullshit,” you snapped, crossing your arms as you tilted your head at him. “You can’t even look at me.”

Joel’s lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw working as he tried to find the right words. He couldn’t tell you the truth—that it wasn’t about some imaginary girlfriend. That it was about you. That somewhere along the line, he’d started to feel more than he should have, and it was tearing him apart.

“Does it matter?” he said finally, his voice gruff as he forced himself to look at you. “It’s not workin’. We shouldn’t have started this in the first place.”

You flinched at the harshness of his tone, the wall he was building between you suddenly feeling insurmountable. “Not working?” you echoed, your voice quieter now, the hurt bleeding into your words despite your best efforts to hide it. “What the hell does that even mean, Joel?”

“It means this is gonna hurt if it keeps goin’,” he said, his voice softening just enough to make it worse. “For both of us.”

You stared at him, your mind racing. This was Joel—gruff, unyielding, impossible Joel—and he was pulling away from you, shutting you out. And even though you’d told yourself this was just sex, that it didn’t matter, the ache in your chest told a different story.

“Fine,” you said finally, your voice sharp as you pushed yourself off the bed, grabbing your jacket. “If that’s how you feel, then fine.”

Joel didn’t stop you, didn’t say another word as you stormed out. But as the door clicked shut behind you, he let out a long, shaky breath, his head falling into his hands.

He’d lied to you—lied to protect himself, and maybe to protect you, too. But the truth was, Joel didn’t just like you. He’d fallen for you, hard and fast, and it scared him more than he wanted to admit.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

One week later

You found yourself at the Tipsy Bison, the familiar hum of muted conversations and the occasional clink of glasses filling the dimly lit bar. It was almost poetic, sitting here again, like the first time you met Joel. Except this time, the tension wasn’t playful—it was heavy, suffocating, and every sip of your drink did little to ease the weight in your chest.

The stool next to you creaked, and you didn’t need to look to know who it was. Joel sat down beside you, his presence unmistakable. He didn’t speak right away, just let the silence stretch before finally breaking it.

“Do I know you?” he asked, his voice low and teasing, throwing your own line back at you from that first night.

You turned your head to glare at him. “What do you want, Joel?” you asked, raising your glass to your lips and taking a long sip.

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the bar as he glanced sideways at you. “Haven’t seen you in a while,” he said, his tone casual, but his eyes betraying something deeper.

“Yeah, well,” you said, your voice sharp as you set your glass down with a clink. “You made it pretty clear you wanted nothing to do with me.”

“That’s not true,” he said quickly, shaking his head, his brows knitting together in frustration. “You know that’s not true.”

You let out a dry laugh, the sound bitter as you swirled the drink in your glass. “Right. So where’s your imaginary girlfriend?” you spat, the words laced with venom as you turned to face him fully.

Joel’s jaw tightened, his hand curling into a loose fist on the bar. “Don’t,” he said, his voice low, warning. He said your name, the sound of it rough and heavy, like it carried the weight of all the things he hadn’t said yet.

“What, Joel?” you snapped, your voice rising slightly, drawing the attention of a couple of nearby patrons. “You think you can just show up here and—what? Smooth everything over? You lied to me.”

His eyes narrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line as he leaned closer. “I didn’t lie,” he said firmly. “I—”

“You did!” you interrupted, your voice trembling now, your emotions spilling over in a way you couldn’t control. “You lied to me, Joel.”

“I lied because we had to stop,” he shot back, his voice rough, his words cutting through the air like a blade.

“Okay, well, you could’ve just said that,” you snapped, throwing your hands up in frustration. “Instead of pulling that bullshit about having some imaginary girlfriend.”

Joel’s shoulders sagged slightly, his jaw tightening as he rubbed a hand over his face. “I know,” he muttered, his voice quieter now, more subdued. “I fucked up.”

“Fuck,” you groaned, the word coming out like a frustrated exhale as you turned away for a moment, your hand gripping your glass tightly. “I thought you liked it.”

“Of course I liked it,” Joel said sharply, his voice rising slightly before he caught himself. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, his expression softened, his voice dipping lower. “You think I didn’t?”

“Then what?” you demanded, your voice raw as you turned back to him, searching his face for an answer that made sense. “Ever since your birthday, you’ve been weird. Was it the kiss? Joel, you chose to kiss me.”

“I know,” he murmured, his voice almost a sigh, his head dipping slightly as his shoulders hunched forward. “I know I did.”

“Then just tell me,” you pleaded, your voice cracking. “Is it me? Did I do something wrong?”

“It’s not you,” Joel said quickly, his voice firm as he looked up at you, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “It’s not you.”

“Then what is it?” you asked, your frustration giving way to something closer to hurt, your voice quieter now.

Joel let out a heavy sigh, his hand gripping the edge of the bar as he leaned forward, his shoulders tense. “I just… I can’t keep doin’ this,” he said finally, his voice low and gruff. “I can’t keep havin’ sex with you and actin’ like it ain’t somethin’ more.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and loaded, like a bomb waiting to go off. Your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your chest as you stared at him, trying to process what he’d just said.

“Something more,” you repeated softly, almost to yourself.

Joel nodded, his jaw working as he looked down at his hands. “Yeah,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s somethin’ more. Least it is for me.”

The room seemed to tilt, the weight of his admission making it hard to breathe. You swallowed hard, your hands gripping the edge of the bar as you tried to steady yourself. “And you didn’t think to tell me that sooner?” you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and something else—something closer to fear.

“I didn’t know how,” Joel admitted, his voice raw, like the words had been dragged out of him. “Hell, I didn’t even wanna admit it to myself. But I can’t keep doin’ this, can’t keep seein’ you and pretendin’ I don’t feel the way I do.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you felt like the ground had shifted beneath you. “I…” you stammered, searching for something to say, but your thoughts were a jumbled mess.

“Hey,” Joel cut in gently, his voice soft but firm. “This isn’t about me tellin’ you how I feel and expectin’ you to feel the same. I’m a big boy—I can handle it if you don’t.” His eyes flicked to yours, a faint, self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips. “It’s just that… it’ll be too hard if we keep goin’. Too hard for me.”

“Oh,” you murmured, swallowing hard as you tried to process his words, your fingers curling around the edge of the bar for support.

“Yeah,” he said, his gaze dropping to his hands as he rubbed the back of his neck. The awkwardness in the air was palpable, and yet there was something unbearably vulnerable about the way he sat there, shoulders hunched slightly, like he was bracing for a blow.

You took a shaky breath, willing yourself to find your voice. “I’ve never…” you began, hesitating as his gaze lifted to meet yours. The weight of his attention made it harder to get the words out, but you pushed forward. “I’ve never been in a relationship.”

Joel’s brow furrowed slightly, his lips parting in surprise. “Really?” he asked, his voice low and careful, as if he didn’t want to push too hard.

You nodded, exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “Yeah,” you said, your voice quieter now. “I’ve never been… in love.” The words came out haltingly, the weight of them settling heavily between you. “So I don’t even know what that feels like,” you confessed, your eyes searching his, hoping he’d understand the vulnerability in your words.

Joel’s expression softened, his rough exterior giving way to something warmer, something almost gentle. “Alright,” he said, his voice low and steady, as if grounding you. “That’s okay. There ain’t no timeframe on that sorta thing. No rules sayin’ when it’s supposed to happen.”

You looked at him, the gruff man who so often felt impossible to pin down, who was usually the one keeping things at arm’s length. But here he was, sitting across from you, making space for something you didn’t know how to name. “How does it feel?” you asked suddenly, the words spilling out before you could stop them. Vulnerability cracked through your voice, a stark contrast to the version of yourself that usually tore his clothes off, always in control, always calling the shots.

Joel’s brow furrowed slightly as he sat back, his gaze thoughtful. “How does it feel?” he repeated, almost to himself. He ran a hand down his face, exhaling slowly before meeting your eyes again.

“It feels like someone you can’t stop thinkin’ about, no matter how much you try not to. Like every little thing they do sticks with you. The way they laugh, the way they look when they’re not payin’ attention…” He trailed off, his voice dropping lower, almost hesitant, as if revealing too much might make him unravel.

His jaw clenched briefly before he added, “It’s like missin’ someone even when they’re right next to ya.”

You swallowed hard, his words hitting you with a force you weren’t ready for. The realization struck fast and sharp—you felt that way for Joel. You had for a while now, but hearing him put it into words made it real, undeniable. Your throat tightened as you swallowed again, your hands gripping the edge of the bar as if it could steady you.

“It’s different for everyone,” Joel said with a shrug, his voice almost casual now, like he was trying to pull back from the weight of what he’d just shared. He sighed, his fingers drumming lightly on the bar. “You’re not upset, are you? I mean… I still want us to, you know, talk.”

“Talk?” you said, laughing softly despite the tightness in your chest. “Don’t know if we ever did a whole lot of that, Joel.”

He chuckled, the sound rough and low, but his eyes didn’t leave yours, like he was searching for something unspoken in your expression.

“Joel,” you said, your voice quieter now, more hesitant. You took a deep breath, your gaze dropping to the scuffed wood of the bar as you found the courage to speak. “There’s… one person I’ve felt like that for.”

Joel’s posture stiffened slightly, his brows furrowing as he tilted his head, his dark eyes watching you closely. “Oh,” he said, his voice careful, guarded.

You nodded, your fingers tracing invisible patterns on the bar’s surface. “I miss him when he’s not there,” you said softly, the words coming out like a confession. “And I feel like he… sees me, you know? Like really sees me, in a way no one else does.”

Joel swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his hand flexed against the bar. His gaze flickered, his usual stoic demeanor cracking slightly as he shifted in his seat.

“And…” you whispered, your voice barely audible now, the vulnerability in your words making them stick in your throat. “And I think he feels the same way about me.”

Joel’s breath hitched, his eyes locking onto yours, and for a moment, it felt like the whole world had stilled. His lips parted slightly, like he was about to say something, but the words didn’t come. Instead, his hand reached out, hesitating for only a moment before brushing lightly against yours where it rested on the bar.

“Is that right?” he murmured finally, his voice rough, his dark eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite name.

You nodded, your heart pounding as your fingers turned, brushing lightly against his. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice trembling, the weight of everything you were saying—and everything you weren’t—hanging in the air. “It is.”

“But…” you began, your voice faltering, “I think he thinks all I use him for is sex.”

Joel stiffened slightly, his hand pausing against yours as his jaw tightened. He looked away for a moment, his eyes darting to the scuffed wood of the bar as he exhaled slowly. “Do you?” he asked, his voice low and steady, but there was something vulnerable in the way he said it, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer.

Your chest tightened at the question, the weight of it pressing down on you. “No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “No, I don’t.”

Joel glanced back at you, his brow furrowed, his expression guarded but softening just enough to let you see the cracks in his armor. “Then why…?” he started, but he trailed off, like he couldn’t quite finish the sentence.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe it was easier that way. To pretend it was just physical. To not think about… everything else.”

Joel’s lips pressed into a thin line, his hand still resting over yours. “Everything else,” he repeated quietly, almost to himself.

You bit your lip, your fingers tightening slightly under his. “But it wasn’t, was it?” you asked softly, your voice trembling. “Not for you. Not for me.”

Joel’s breath hitched slightly, his eyes meeting yours again, and this time there was no hiding the emotion there. “No,” he said simply, his voice rough. “It wasn’t.”

For a moment, the silence between you was deafening, the weight of everything unsaid filling the space. And then Joel’s hand shifted, his fingers lacing through yours as he let out a soft sigh. “I thought… maybe that’s all you wanted,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “Didn’t think you wanted more.”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. “I didn’t know I did,” you said honestly, your eyes searching his. “Not until now.”

Joel nodded slowly, his thumb brushing over your hand in a gesture so tender it made your chest ache. “Well,” he said softly, his voice steady but laced with something that sounded like hope, “guess we got some figurin’ out to do, then.”

You bit your lip as you took him in, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. Even now, even with the weight of everything unsaid hanging heavy in the air, Joel turned you on in a way that made your stomach flip. Your panties were already damp, a low heat building that you couldn’t ignore, no matter how serious the conversation had been moments ago.

Joel’s eyes caught yours, and he sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. “I know that look,” he said, his voice low and rough, tinged with something that made your breath hitch. He knew you too well—the way your eyes grew hazy when you were needy, the way you bit your lip like you were barely holding yourself together.

You shook your head, feeling your cheeks heat under his steady gaze. “Can’t help it,” you said softly, almost shyly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Fuck,” Joel muttered under his breath, his jaw tightening as he looked at you. His dark eyes searched your face, his expression unreadable. “You mean it?” he asked finally, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “There’s… somethin’ there?”

“Yeah,” you said, your voice trembling as you nodded. “There’s something there.”

Joel stared at you for a moment, his shoulders rising and falling with a deep, steadying breath. “Fuck,” he said again, the word rough and full of meaning. He reached for your hand, his grip firm but gentle. “Let’s go home.”

A startled laugh escaped your lips, almost a squeal as the weight of the moment dissolved into an electric anticipation. You grabbed his hand, and together you practically ran out of the bar, your steps hurried, his long strides matching yours as you made your way through the quiet streets of Jackson.

The night air was cool, but your skin burned with the heat of what was about to happen. Every brush of his shoulder against yours, every glance he threw your way as you moved together, only stoked the fire. By the time you reached Joel’s front door, both of you were breathless, though not from the walk.

Joel fumbled with his keys for only a second before pushing the door open, and as soon as it clicked shut behind you, he turned, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your knees weak.

“This what you want?” he asked, his voice low, almost a growl as he stepped closer.

“Yeah,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the way your heart raced. “It’s what I want.”

Joel didn’t wait another second. His hands were on you, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was equal parts desperate and tender, the kind that made you feel like you were being seen, completely and utterly. And for the first time, it wasn’t just about the heat or the need—it was about something more, something that neither of you had the words for yet, but both of you could feel.

[theetherealbloom]

You Are In Love, True Love

Summary: A lasting love with Pedro Pascal.

Or… you and Pedro get engaged.

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Established Relationship, TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Slight Angst, Swearing, Anxiety, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Proposal, Engagement, Fireworks, Loud Sounds, Sparklers, PDA, Fruits, Instagram Posts and Comments, 

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: WELL— um, hi! Happy New Year, my loves! I’d like to start off by saying thank you all so much for supporting me throughout this year, and to all the new followers and old ones, just know I appreciate literally each and every single one of you. Lastly, huge shoutout to @mrspascalsworld for coming up with this idea and to the 🌼!anon request.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: New Year’s Day by Taylor Swift, You Are In Love (Taylor’s Version) by Taylor Swift

← Previous Chapter | Main Masterlist | PEDRO PASCAL MAIN MASTERLIST |

HOTEL ESENCIA, MEXICO — DAY

You hummed softly under your breath, the tune indistinct but soothing as your hands folded the last of Pedro’s shirts. You carefully smoothed out the fabric, placing it into his suitcase with meticulous care. His cologne, a comforting blend of cedar and spice, lingered faintly in the air around you.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” Pedro’s voice broke through the quiet, warm and tinged with amusement.

You turned, finding him leaning casually against the doorway, his arms crossed and an endearing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The sight of him made your heart skip a beat. Dressed in a soft cotton t-shirt and worn jeans, his hair slightly tousled, he looked effortlessly handsome.

“Someone has to make sure you look presentable for tonight,” you teased, holding up a crisp white shirt. “Can’t have you showing up to a New Year’s Eve party looking like you’ve been wrestling stray dogs.”

“Oh, I see,” he said, feigning offense as he stepped closer. “Is this just a clever way of saying I’m hopeless without you?”

You raised an eyebrow. “If the shoe fits…”

Pedro chuckled, his laughter low and rich as he reached for you. He didn’t touch you, not immediately. Instead, he watched you, his gaze softening in a way that made your chest tighten.

“What?” you asked, a little self-conscious under his scrutiny.

“Nothing,” he murmured, shaking his head slightly. “Just… you. Like this. It’s perfect.”

“Oh, stop,” you said, rolling your eyes to mask the heat creeping up your cheeks. “Don’t go getting all sentimental on me while I’m trying to fold your underwear.”

He laughed, the sound filling the room like sunlight. “Alright, alright. I’ll behave.” But even as he said it, his hands found your waist, pulling you gently toward him. “For now.”

You let yourself be drawn into his orbit, your arms instinctively looping around his neck. His touch was warm, grounding. “What’s gotten into you today?” you asked softly, brushing a stray curl from his forehead.

“Nothing,” he said, though the slight tension in his voice betrayed him. His gaze dropped for a moment before meeting yours again, and he offered a small, crooked smile. “Just thinking about… everything. Projects, the future. It’s a lot.”

You cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly against his scruff. “You’re going to be amazing, Pedro. You always are.”

“You think so?” he asked, his voice quieter now, more vulnerable.

You nodded firmly. “I know so. And you don’t have to do it alone, okay? I’m here. Always.” You held up your pinky. “Promise.”

Pedro’s lips twitched into a genuine smile as he linked his pinky with yours. “Promise.”

Then he kissed you, slow and deliberate, as if to seal the vow. The world outside seemed to blur, leaving only the two of you. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“I would do this every day if I could,” he murmured, his voice a soft confession.

“You can,” you replied, your hands sliding down to rest on his chest as you swayed gently to an imaginary tune. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Pedro’s grip tightened slightly, and for a moment, you thought you saw something unspoken in his eyes. But before you could ask, he leaned in to kiss you again, and whatever it was melted away into the warmth of his embrace.

HOTEL ESENCIA, MEXICO — AFTERNOON  

The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the sheer white curtains of the open-air restaurant at Hotel Esencia, casting a golden glow over everything it touched. The gentle hum of the ocean in the background, paired with the soft tinkling of glasses and plates, created a tranquil yet vibrant atmosphere. The restaurant’s lush greenery blended seamlessly with the warm tones of the terracotta floor and wooden furnishings.  

You sat at a circular table with Pedro, Omar, Franklin, and Lauren, the sound of their laughter mixing with the gentle rustling of the palm trees outside. Pedro sat beside you, one arm draped casually over the back of your chair. His fingers occasionally brushed your shoulder in soft, fleeting touches as he engaged in a lively debate with Omar about the best way to cut a mango.  

“I’m telling you,” Pedro said, gesturing emphatically with his free hand, “the best way is to slice it like a hedgehog and then flip it out.”  

Omar snorted. “That’s beginner-level mango cutting. You gotta peel it and slice it thin, man. That’s the pro way.”  

Lauren leaned in, sipping her drink. “Why are we even debating this? The hotel staff cut it perfectly for us. Just eat it!”  

Pedro turned to you, a wide grin spreading across his face. “What do you think, cariño? Hedgehog or pro slices?”  

You laughed, shaking your head. “Honestly? I think you both just like the sound of your own voices.”  

The table erupted into laughter, and Pedro, ever the showman, pretended to be deeply offended. “Traitor,” he teased, leaning closer to you.  

As the conversation continued, Pedro reached for a small plate of fruit in the center of the table. He speared a slice of mango with a fork and held it out to you. “Here,” he said, his voice soft, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. “Taste this and tell me I’m right.”  

You rolled your eyes playfully but leaned in, letting him feed you the fruit. The sweet, tangy flavor exploded on your tongue, and you couldn’t help but smile.  

“Okay,” you admitted, licking your lips. “That’s really good.”  

Pedro’s face lit up with triumph. “See? Hedgehog for the win!”  

“Does the mango really matter, or are you just using this as an excuse to feed her?” Franklin teased from across the table, his eyebrow raised in mock suspicion.  

Pedro didn’t miss a beat. “A little of both,” he admitted, squeezing your hand under the table.  

You felt your cheeks warm, and Lauren sighed dramatically. “You two are so gross. Like, cute-gross. But still gross.”  

“Oh, come on,” you said, laughing as you leaned against Pedro’s shoulder. “We’re not that bad.”  

“Yes, you are,” Omar interjected, pointing at you with his fork. “The way you two look at each other? It’s like a rom-com in real life. I’m waiting for the dramatic love confession during a thunderstorm any day now.”  

Pedro chuckled, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of your hand. “Sorry to disappoint, but I save my dramatic love confessions for sunny beaches and candlelit dinners.”  

“Of course you do,” Franklin said dryly.  

The banter continued as plates were passed around and stories were exchanged. At one point, Pedro leaned closer to you, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke softly. “You look beautiful today, by the way. I don’t think I’ve told you yet.”  

You turned to him, your smile softening. “Thank you. You’re not too bad yourself, you know.”  

His grin widened, and he pressed a quick kiss to your temple. “I’ll take it.”  

As the lunch wound down, Pedro took another piece of fruit and held it to your lips, his expression playful. “Last one?”  

You bit into it, laughing as he exaggerated a swoon. “You’re ridiculous,” you said, shaking your head.  

“And you love it,” he replied confidently, his eyes sparkling.  

Omar groaned. “Seriously, can someone separate these two before I die from secondhand sweetness?”  

Lauren raised her glass. “Here’s to our disgustingly in-love friends. May their PDA always remind us how single we are.”  

The table burst into laughter, and you felt Pedro’s hand tighten around yours, grounding you in the midst of the playful chaos.  

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, his voice just for you. “I’ll make it even worse later.”  

You nudged him gently with your elbow, unable to hide your grin. “I’m holding you to that.”  

With the ocean breeze swirling around you and Pedro’s warmth beside you, the moment felt like a scene from one of your favorite romance novels—perfectly ordinary and yet entirely magical.

HOTEL ESENCIA, MEXICO — EVENING

The New Year’s Eve party was in full swing by the time you and Pedro arrived. The beach was transformed into a luminous paradise. Fairy lights strung between swaying palm trees bathed everything in a warm, golden glow. Lanterns floated lazily in the night sky, their soft flickers mirrored on the rippling waves. The mingling sounds of music, laughter, and the gentle crash of the ocean created a magical atmosphere that felt otherworldly yet comforting.

Pedro walked beside you, his hand firmly gripping yours, a quiet, grounding presence amid the bustle of the party. His thumb traced gentle circles on the back of your hand, a wordless reassurance that seemed to say, I’m here, and I’m not letting go.

You greeted friends with smiles and exchanged well-wishes for the new year. Omar cracked jokes that had everyone in your group doubling over in laughter. Franklin and Lauren danced barefoot on the sand, spinning and twirling under the fairy lights. Pedro chuckled softly, pulling you closer to his side as you watched the others, your heart swelling at the sight of such joy.

At one point, Pedro leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I have a surprise for you.”

You tilted your head, curious. “Oh? What kind of surprise?”

He grinned, a hint of mischief lighting his eyes. “You’ll see. Come with me.”

With a quick goodbye to your friends, Pedro led you away from the crowd. You followed him down a narrow path lined with flickering candles in glass jars. The sound of the party faded into the distance, replaced by the rhythmic lapping of the waves against the shore. Each step seemed to draw you further into an intimate bubble, a world that consisted only of you and Pedro.

When you rounded the corner, you stopped in your tracks. A secluded section of the beach had been transformed into something out of a dream. Strings of fairy lights hung between tall wooden poles, casting a warm, golden light over a blanket spread neatly on the sand. Soft, colorful pillows were arranged in inviting clusters, and a bottle of champagne rested in an ice bucket nearby. Candles flickered in the gentle breeze, their flames casting dancing shadows across the scene.

“Pedro,” you breathed, your voice catching. Your hand flew to your chest as you took it all in. “What is this?”

He turned to you, his expression softer, more serious than you’d ever seen. “Something I’ve been planning for a while now.”

Before you could ask what he meant, Pedro took both of your hands in his, his fingers warm and slightly trembling. His thumb stroked over your knuckles, grounding both of you in the moment.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about us,” he began, his voice steady but laced with emotion. “About everything we’ve been through. About how much you’ve changed my life. You’re my best friend, my partner, my everything. You’ve made me laugh on my worst days and held me together when I thought I’d fall apart. I can’t imagine a future without you in it.”

Your breath hitched, tears welling up in your eyes. He squeezed your hands, his gaze locked on yours.

“I want your midnights and late-night snack hunts,” he continued, his lips curving into a soft smile. “I want to slow dance in the kitchen with you, humming our favorite songs. I want every moment, big and small, because you make all of them better just by being there.”

Pedro dropped to one knee, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket. The sight stole the breath from your lungs.

“Will you marry me?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion, his brown eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Will you let me spend the rest of my life loving you?”

You were nodding before he even finished speaking, tears spilling freely down your cheeks. “Yes,” you choked out, your voice trembling with joy. “Of course, yes.”

The world seemed to hold its breath as Pedro slid the ring onto your finger. It was delicate and timeless, a gold band adorned with a diamond that shimmered under the fairy lights. You recognized it instantly as the one his mother had worn in old photographs. The significance of it made your heart swell.

Pedro stood and pulled you into his arms, spinning you around as laughter bubbled from your lips. Tears mingled with joy as you clung to him, your face buried in his neck.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice shaky. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your fingers threading through his hair.

Cheers erupted behind you, startling you both. You turned to see Omar, Franklin, Lauren, and a handful of other friends holding sparklers, their faces alight with joy as they cheered and clapped. Phones were out, capturing the moment from every angle. The scene felt surreal, like something out of a fairy tale.

Pedro’s smile widened as he kissed you again, his lips soft and lingering against yours. When the fireworks began, you flinched at the loud bangs, your body instinctively tensing. Pedro’s arms tightened around you, his hand cradling the back of your head.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear. “Always.”

You pressed your face into his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. When you looked up, his hand was already there to wipe away the stray tear trailing down your face.

“Let’s go,” he said softly, taking your hand. “I want to start this year with just us.”

You nodded, letting him lead you back to your suite. The walk felt like a dream, the buzz of the party and the distant sound of fireworks fading into the background. When you entered the room, the warmth of his hand never left yours.

Pedro closed the door gently behind you, his eyes soft but brimming with unspoken emotion. He stepped closer, his hands cradling your face as he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

“You’re my everything,” he murmured before his lips met yours in a kiss that stole your breath. His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you flush against him as the kiss deepened. The world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the intoxicating taste of him.

Clothes were shed in a trail leading to the bed, each piece falling away with whispered promises and quiet gasps. Pedro’s hands were everywhere, tracing the curves of your body as if committing them to memory. His lips followed, leaving a trail of fire along your skin that made you shiver.

He laid you down gently, his body hovering over yours. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he said, his voice low and reverent.

“Never,” you whispered, your hands threading through his hair to pull him back down to you.

The night stretched on, filled with love and passion. Pedro’s touch was both tender and consuming, every kiss and caress carrying the weight of his feelings. And as you lay tangled together afterward, his arms wrapped tightly around you, you knew this was the first of countless nights you’d spend like this.

“Happy New Year,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Happy New Year,” you echoed, your voice soft and full of love.

With Pedro beside you, the future felt impossibly bright.

HOTEL ESENCIA, MEXICO — MORNING

The sunlight streamed through the curtains, bathing the room in a golden glow. You stirred awake, the warmth of Pedro’s arms wrapped securely around you. His chest rose and fell against your back, the soft rhythm of his breathing lulling you into a sense of pure peace.

“Good morning, fiancé,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

You smiled, tilting your head back to meet his gaze. “Good morning, fiancé.”

Pedro’s lips curved into a lazy grin as he brushed a kiss against your temple. “Fiancé. I like how that sounds. Doesn’t it sound so official? Like I’ve been upgraded.”

You laughed, rolling over to face him fully. “Oh, it’s an upgrade, all right. High maintenance, though. Hope you’re ready for that.”

His hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer. “Worth every bit of maintenance,” he said softly, his brown eyes locking onto yours with a gaze so full of love it made your heart ache.

After a few blissful moments of cuddling, you sat up, the blanket slipping off your shoulders. Pedro reached for his phone on the nightstand, his fingers brushing yours as you both instinctively checked your messages.

The notifications on his screen were wild—texts from friends, family, and coworkers all pouring in, congratulating him. You could already hear Franklin’s teasing voice in your head: “Finally! You pulled it off without tripping over yourself.”

Pedro chuckled at the chaos. “Looks like the engagement buzz has already started.”

You glanced at his phone over his shoulder, spotting a text from his sister. “Let me guess, your sister is already planning our wedding?”

“Not just her—my cousins have entered the group chat. They’re plotting from all angles.” He scrolled further, smirking as he turned his phone toward you. “Look at this: Lauren sent a voice note. Wanna bet it’s just her screaming?”

You both laughed as he played the message, and sure enough, Lauren’s excited squeals filled the room.

“I love them,” you said, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“And they love you,” he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Speaking of love… I was thinking. Maybe it’s time I post something. You know, about us.”

You raised an eyebrow. Pedro was famously private when it came to his personal life. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” He turned to you, his expression serious but full of warmth. “I want the whole world to know how lucky I am. I want to shout it from the rooftops—or, you know, post it on Instagram.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you nudged him playfully. “You’re such a romantic, Pascal.”

He grinned, already opening the app. “Only for you, amor.”

Pedro scrolled through the photos you’d taken during the trip, landing on one from last night. It was a candid shot that Franklin had snapped during the proposal. You were mid-laugh, tears of joy sparkling in your eyes, and Pedro was on one knee, looking at you like you were the only person in the world.

“That one,” he said softly, showing you the picture. “It’s perfect.”

Your heart swelled. “It’s us.”

Pedro typed the caption, pausing dramatically as he turned the phone toward you. “‘Guess what 💍.’ Too much?”

You burst out laughing, resting your forehead against his shoulder. “It’s perfect. Post it before I change my mind and make you write a paragraph.”

He tapped the screen, and the post was live.

It didn’t take long for the post to gain traction. Within minutes, the comments flooded in, and Pedro couldn’t stop grinning as he scrolled through them, reading some aloud.

@ franklinlatt: FINALLY. My boy did it. I’m crying. Call me later or I’m disowning you.

@ laurenalexander: AHHHH!!! We need a wedding planning spreadsheet STAT.

@ omar.apollo: Pedro Pascal is officially off the market. RIP to all of us. Congrats, you two!!

Fans were equally unhinged:

@ pedropascalfan101: I AM SOBBING. LOOK AT THEM.

@ fiancégoals: Pedro, how does it feel to have found the literal love of your life? Asking for a friend.

@ pedropascalfanaccount: HOLY CRAP HE DID IT. DADDY IS OFF THE MARKET.

@ pedropascalforever: We love this for you but also… who do I cry to about this???

@ pedrostan: She’s GORGEOUS. Look at them. LOOK AT THEM. I’M SOBBING.

@ cocoullrich: About damn time, man! Congrats to you both!

@ pascalloml: Pedro Pascal is the blueprint of a man. Take notes, everyone.

@ hollywoodbuzz: Pedro Pascal announces engagement in the most adorable way ever. We’re not crying; YOU are.

Pedro chuckled, showing you the screen. “I think they’re happy for us.”

You leaned against him, scrolling through the comments. “Some of them are a little heartbroken, though.”

He kissed your cheek. “They’ll survive. I’ve already won the lottery with you, anyway.”

HOTEL ESENCIA, MEXICO — LATER THAT MORNING 

The morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. After a decadent breakfast in bed—mimosas fizzing in crystal glasses, pancakes piled high and dripping with syrup—you and Pedro moved to the balcony. The ocean stretched endlessly before you, its gentle rhythm matching the easy calm between you.  

Pedro leaned back in his chair, a slight breeze ruffling his tousled hair, his eyes fixed on you with a tenderness that made your chest ache. You were turning your engagement ring slowly between your fingers, the sunlight catching on the delicate details of the band.  

“It was my mom’s, you know,” he said, his voice breaking the peaceful silence.  

Your head shot up, surprise and awe softening your expression. “Pedro…” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “It’s beautiful. I can’t believe you’d trust me with something so meaningful.”  

He reached across the small table, his hand enveloping yours, his thumb tracing slow, comforting circles over your skin. “It’s not just trust, amor. It’s love. Belonging. This ring belonged to her, and now it belongs to you. Because you’re my family now. You’re the person I want to build my life with—the one I want to pass this kind of love down through.”  

The sincerity in his words undid you. Your eyes filled with tears, but you managed a shaky smile. “You always know exactly what to say, don’t you? Were you saving all this charm for after the engagement?”  

Pedro laughed, the sound warm and rich, leaning forward to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re not the only one evolving here. I’m in full fiancé mode now—expect poetic declarations, grand gestures, and probably some embarrassing moments along the way.”  

You giggled, your heart so full it felt like it might burst. “I don’t think my heart can handle much more.”  

He grinned, the dimple you loved so much making its appearance. “Then I guess I’m doing something right.”  

For a moment, the world seemed to fade away—the waves, the breeze, the distant hum of life below. There was only Pedro and the quiet magic of being his.  

Then, his phone buzzed on the table, pulling you both back to the present. Pedro glanced at the screen and groaned. “It’s Lux. She’s FaceTiming me. Should we answer, or let her stew a little longer?”  

“Answer,” you said, laughing. “You know she won’t stop until you do.”  

With a resigned smile, Pedro swiped to accept the call, holding the phone out so you were both in the frame. Lux’s face appeared, and her mock-outrage was immediate.  

“Finally!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “I’ve been waiting for this moment forever. And no heads-up? No exclusive family memo?”  

Pedro smirked, clearly enjoying himself. “Some things are worth keeping a surprise, hermana.”  

Lux rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “Well, surprise or not, I’m happy for you guys. You’re disgustingly perfect together, and I love it. But don’t think this gets you out of celebrating properly when you’re back.”  

You leaned into the frame, grinning. “We’ll be ready for whatever chaos you’ve got planned.”  

“Good. Oh, and don’t forget to call Dad, Pedro,” Lux added, her tone turning maternal.  

Pedro groaned. “Yes, yes. I’ll call him right after this. Thanks for the reminder, coach.”  

Lux laughed. “Love you both. Now go enjoy your engagement. And call Dad, or I’ll never let you hear the end of it.”  

As the call ended, Pedro set his phone down with a shake of his head. “That woman. It’s like she’s my manager and life coach rolled into one.”  

You smiled, leaning your chin on your hand as you gazed at him. “She’s not wrong, though. You should call your dad before he finds out from the media.”  

Pedro sighed dramatically but nodded. “You’re right, as usual. I’ll be back in a second.”  

He disappeared inside to make the call, leaving you on the balcony with the soothing sound of the waves and the weight of the ring on your finger. You turned it slowly, marveling at the reality of it all.  

When Pedro returned, his face was lit with joy. “He cried. Happy tears, don’t worry. And he’s already planning a trip to wherever we’re going next.”  

You laughed. “Guess we’d better get ready for some family bonding.”  

Pedro sat beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. “As long as you’re with me, I’m ready for anything.”  

You tilted your head to look up at him, your heart swelling with love. “I feel the same way. Whatever comes next, we’ll face it together.”  

He leaned down to kiss you, soft and lingering, as if sealing a vow between you. The world felt bright and endless, full of promise. And for the first time, you were certain: you were exactly where you were meant to be.  

[andy-15-07]

Lines of Duty

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Word Count: 2263 | requests are open

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

The bar buzzed with a low hum of conversation, punctuated by the clinking of glasses and the occasional burst of laughter. The air smelled of whiskey, smoke, and sweat—a combination Javier Peña knew too well. He sat at the far end of the counter, nursing a glass of bourbon, his eyes scanning the room with a mix of boredom and habit.

That’s when he saw her.

She sat alone at the bar, her posture relaxed but confident, one hand delicately wrapped around a glass of wine. Her hair framed her face perfectly, her eyes scanning the menu as if she had all the time in the world. She was striking—not in the loud, flashy way of some women in the room, but in a way that made Javier’s heart skip a beat.

He’d seen beautiful women before, plenty of them. But something about her felt different—like a challenge he didn’t know he was looking for.

Javier straightened his posture, draining the last of his bourbon before standing up. Adjusting his jacket, he approached her with the kind of swagger that came naturally to him, a mix of confidence and charm that had worked countless times before.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, his voice smooth as honey.

She barely glanced up, her expression neutral. “Actually, I do.”

Javier blinked, momentarily thrown off. Most women didn’t refuse him outright. He let out a soft chuckle, leaning on the counter beside her. “Tough crowd tonight. You sure? I’m good company.”

She finally looked at him, her eyes sharp and assessing. “Good company doesn’t need to announce itself.”

He smirked, his ego bruised but not broken. “Fair point. But maybe you’d let me prove it?”

“Not interested,” she replied, turning her attention back to her glass.

Javier hesitated for a moment, debating whether to push further. But he knew better than to come on too strong. “Alright,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Enjoy your evening.”

He walked back to his seat, though his eyes found her every now and then. There was something intriguing about her—the way she carried herself, the confidence in her refusal. Most people didn’t challenge him, but she had, effortlessly.

A few drinks later, Javier decided to try again. He wasn’t the type to give up so easily, especially not when something—someone—caught his interest like this.

He approached her again, this time with a gentler demeanor. “Look, I’ll admit I came on a little strong earlier. Let’s start over. I’m Javier.” He extended his hand.

She glanced at him, a hint of amusement in her eyes now. After a moment, she shook his hand. “Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. Can I buy you a drink?”

She tilted her head, considering him. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

“Only when it’s worth it,” he replied with a grin.

With a slight shrug, she gestured to her half-empty glass. “Sure. Why not?”

Javier signaled the bartender, ordering a refill for her and another bourbon for himself. As the drinks arrived, he leaned on the counter, genuinely curious. “So, what brings you here tonight?”

She sipped her wine before answering. “Long day. Needed a break. You?”

He hesitated, debating how much to share. “Work’s been… intense. This is my way of unwinding.”

“What do you do?” she asked, her tone casual but her eyes sharp, as if she could see right through him.

Javier swirled his bourbon. “I’m with the DEA.”

Her brows lifted slightly. “Drug Enforcement Agency? Interesting.”

“And you? What’s your story?”

She leaned back slightly, a small smile playing on her lips. “I’m a lawyer.”

“A lawyer,” he repeated, impressed. “What kind of law?”

“Criminal defense,” she said, watching his reaction closely.

He let out a low whistle. “That’s a tough gig.”

“So is yours,” she countered. “Though I imagine we’re often on opposite sides of things.”

Javier chuckled, raising his glass in a mock toast. “Here’s to professional differences.”

She clinked her glass against his, her smile widening just a fraction. “Cheers.”

They fell into an easy rhythm after that, their conversation flowing naturally. Javier found himself captivated not just by her beauty but by her sharp wit and intelligence. She was unlike anyone he’d met before, and for the first time in a long while, he felt a genuine connection forming.

As the night wore on, he leaned in slightly, his tone softer. “You know, I didn’t expect you to give me the time of day after earlier.”

“Why did you try again, then?” she asked, her tone curious.

He shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. “Something told me you were worth the effort.”

She looked at him for a long moment before smiling. “Maybe I am.”

“I’ve got a bottle of wine back at my place that’s better than anything they’re serving here,” he said, his tone casual but inviting. “Care to join me?”

She raised an eyebrow, considering his offer. After a moment, she nodded. “Alright. Let’s see if your wine lives up to the hype.”

Javier grinned, signaling the bartender for the check. They left the bar together, stepping into the cool night air. His apartment wasn’t far, and they walked in comfortable silence, the occasional brush of their arms adding a spark of anticipation.

When they arrived, Javier opened the door and gestured for her to enter first. “Make yourself at home,” he said, heading to the kitchen to grab the wine.

She took in the space—simple, a little messy, but lived-in. “Nice place,” she commented.

“It does the job,” he replied, returning with two glasses and a bottle of red. He poured them each a glass, handing one to her. “To unexpected meetings,” he toasted.

“To persistence,” she countered, clinking her glass against his.

They sipped their wine, the atmosphere growing warmer with each passing moment. Javier set his glass down, his eyes meeting hers. “You’re something else, you know that?”

She smiled, setting her own glass down. “I could say the same about you.”

He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Can I kiss you?”

Her answer was a soft nod, and he closed the distance between them, his lips capturing hers in a slow, deliberate kiss. She responded eagerly, her hands sliding up to his shoulders as he pulled her closer.

The kiss deepened, growing more intense as their inhibitions melted away. Javier’s hands trailed down her back, pulling her firmly against him as he guided her toward the couch. They tumbled onto it together, their movements urgent yet unhurried, each touch and kiss fanning the flames between them.

Clothes were shed piece by piece, their bodies finding each other in the dim light of the apartment. Javier’s lips traced a path down her neck, eliciting a soft moan as his hands explored every curve. She arched into him, her fingers tangled in his hair as the world outside faded away.

They moved together in perfect rhythm, their connection undeniable and electric. Time seemed to stand still as they gave in to the moment, their breaths mingling and hearts racing. When it was over, they lay tangled together on the couch, the quiet hum of the city outside a distant backdrop to their shared warmth.

Javier brushed a strand of hair from her face, his eyes soft as he looked at her. “You’re definitely worth the effort,” he murmured.

She smiled, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. “So are you.”

And for the first time in a long time, Javier Peña felt at peace.

The morning sun streamed through the gaps in the blinds, casting long, dancing shadows across the room. Javier stirred, blinking against the sudden brightness. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand – 8:30 AM. He groaned, burying his face in the pillow beside him.

He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, shaking him lightly. "Morning, sleepyhead," a soft voice murmured.

Javier opened his eyes to see Y/N smiling down at him, her hair a mess of curls around her face. He smiled back, his hand reaching out to tuck a stray strand behind her ear. "Morning," he rasped, his voice still rough with sleep.

"You were out like a light last night," she teased, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

He chuckled, pulling her closer. "You have a way of making a man forget his worries."

She leaned in and kissed him, a soft, lingering kiss that sent shivers down his spine. "I'm glad I do," she whispered, her breath warm against his lips.

Just then, his phone buzzed on the nightstand. He groaned again, reaching for it. It was Steve.

"Murphy," he answered, his voice still thick with sleep.

"Peña, you alive?" Steve's voice crackled through the phone. "You missed the briefing. We've got a lead on the Cali Cartel. Escobar's shipments are coming through Panama."

Javier sat up, instantly alert. "Panama? You sure?"

"Positive. We're putting together a team. You're on it."

"Right. Give me the details. I'll be there in an hour."

He hung up, the excitement already building within him. This was the kind of case he lived for.

Y/N watched him, a concerned frown creasing her brow. "Another case already?"

He sighed, pulling her closer. "I'm sorry. This is important."

"I know," she said softly, understanding dawning in her eyes. "But don't you dare get yourself killed."

He grinned, leaning down to kiss her again. "I won't. I promise."

He quickly showered and dressed, grabbing a quick breakfast with Y/N before heading out. He left her with a promise to call later, a lingering kiss, and the gnawing feeling that this case could be the most dangerous yet.

As he drove to the DEA office, his mind was already racing. The Cali Cartel was a formidable enemy, more sophisticated and ruthless than anything he'd encountered before. He knew this wouldn't be easy, but he also knew he couldn't back down.

He reached the office, the familiar tension in the air a stark contrast to the peaceful morning he'd shared with Y/N. He joined the briefing, his mind already focused on the task at hand.

Days turned into weeks, the investigation consuming his every waking moment. He worked long hours, chasing leads, interrogating informants, and piecing together the puzzle of the Cali Cartel's operation. He kept in touch with Y/N whenever he could, late-night phone calls, hurried visits, stolen moments between meetings.

One evening, after a particularly long day, he returned to his apartment, exhausted but exhilarated. He found Y/N waiting for him, a pot of coffee brewing on the stove.

"You look like you could use this," she said, handing him a mug.

He smiled gratefully, taking a long sip. "I could use you too," he admitted, sinking into the couch beside her.

She smiled, reaching out to hold his hand. "I'm here."

He leaned against her, closing his eyes. It was a simple gesture, a quiet moment of peace amidst the chaos of his work. But in that moment, with Y/N by his side, he felt a sense of calm he hadn't experienced in a long time.

The investigation continued, fraught with danger and uncertainty. They faced setbacks, near misses, and the constant threat of violence. But Javier never wavered, driven by a fierce determination to bring down the Cali Cartel and protect the innocent.

One night, he received a tip – a major shipment of cocaine was due to arrive in Panama within the next 48 hours. This was their chance.

The operation was a delicate dance of surveillance, infiltration, and calculated risk. Javier and his team worked tirelessly, their every move a calculated gamble. The tension was palpable, the stakes higher than ever.

Finally, the day of the shipment arrived. The operation was underway, Javier leading the charge. They tracked the shipment to a remote airstrip, the tension building with every passing minute.

The confrontation was swift and brutal. Gunfire erupted, the night air filled with the sound of bullets and screams. Javier fought with a ferocity born of years of experience, his mind sharp, his reflexes honed.

In the end, they seized the shipment, a major blow to the Cali Cartel. But the victory came at a cost. Several DEA agents were injured, and the operation had taken its toll.

Exhausted but triumphant, Javier returned to his apartment, the events of the night still fresh in his mind. He found Y/N waiting for him, her face etched with worry.

He pulled her into a tight embrace, burying his face in her hair. "I'm alright," he murmured, his voice hoarse.

She held him close, her arms wrapped around him protectively. "I was so worried," she whispered.

He pulled back, looking at her with a grateful smile. "I'm okay. We got them."

She smiled, her eyes filled with pride. "I knew you would."

They spent the next few days recovering, the aftermath of the operation weighing heavily on them. But they were together, and that was all that mattered.

The victory over the Cali Cartel was a turning point. The cartel's power was significantly weakened, and the DEA had dealt a major blow to the drug trade. But the fight was far from over.

Javier knew that. He knew there would be other battles to fight, other dangers to face. But he also knew he wasn't alone. He had Y/N by his side, a love that was stronger than any cartel, any threat.

And as he looked at her, her eyes filled with love and admiration, he knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together. 

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Foxglove Downs Chapter 4: The Date

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Lucius Verus x Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: Marcus finds a way to make his indiscretion up to you. Marcus girlies, this one is for you. Warnings: Love triangle, horse talk, jealousy, pining, angst, flirting, a dusting of dbf but more like dad's best mentee, smut, publicish sex, getting finger banged in an alley, age gap (Marcus is in his 40’s, Lucius is in his 20’s). Reader is in her 30's, has hair, and has a nickname: Sunny. Words: 4,500

A/N: Thank you to my lovely beta @devineconjuring. Thank you for my being my personal Pac-Man and eating all of my dots. 🫶🏻

Foxglove Downs Masterlist Masterlist

Previous Chapter

—-

Nobody watching asks how the horses get to the competitions, but you know all too well how much work and preparation goes into getting just a singular 1,200-pound animal to the arena. The stables are always abuzz during the days and weeks leading up to a match, especially when it’s the Grand Championships.

You’ve been lucky to avoid both men for the past few days, though you feel like you can still feel the sting of your hand slapping Marcus’s face, your anger and frustration with him. The softness of Lucius’s lips against yours, your hesitancy and wonder about your situation. After all these years of lingering looks and hesitant touches with Marcus, of moments where it felt like his eyes were only on you, now he feels like he owns you?

Lucius let you in to see another side of him, one more grounded and caring, less brash and arrogant. In his celebrity-filled world, why does it seem like he only wants you?

Not now, you keep repeating to yourself as you walk through the tack room with your clipboard, making notes of what needs to be packed. 

Someone clears their throat deeply, catching your attention. You freeze at the sound and look up, meeting dark brown eyes, wide under brows drawn down in apprehension. Marcus stands only a few feet away from you. 

“Sunny.”

“Marcus.” 

He takes a step closer. “I… I wanted to apologize,” he says, his voice low and sincere. “For the way I acted by the lake.”

His handsome face is etched in remorse. The room is quiet, save for the soft, distant sounds of your horses. 

“I shouldn’t have said those things,” he continues, his eyes never leaving yours. “It was out of line, and I’m sorry.” 

“I appreciate the apology. But you can’t just say and assume those things and expect it to be okay. Listen, I don’t know what you and Lucius have going on between you, but I am not part of it.” 

He nods, his jaw clenched. “I know. I let my feelings get the better of me. Sunny, I–” he begins, before taking a deep breath. “I care about you. More than I probably should. I-I’ve known you for so long, and I’ve been able to… seeing you with Lucius, it just…” He trails off, shaking his head, his fingers fidgeting at his sides. 

“Marcus, I’m not with Lucius,” you say, heart hammering in your chest. 

A bit of hope flickers across his features. “You’re not?”

“No,” you shake your head. “But the way you spoke to me still hurt me, and the accusations you made, the way you made me feel…”

“I know, and I’m sorry,” he says quickly, stepping forward. “Can I please make it up to you?”

The hopeful way his voice sounds at the end makes your heart melt, like he can’t bear to think you won’t forgive him. You hesitate, staring into his vulnerable eyes. 

“Can I take you to dinner tonight? There’s a place a couple of towns away that makes me think of you every time I go. Please?”

“It’s a date,” you respond with a small smile, finding it hard to believe Marcus Acacius just asked you out on a date.

“I’ll pick you up around 8?” he says, smiling wide. You’ve only seen him smile like this when he’d won a competition. 

“Sounds good.” 

“Then it’s a date.” He nods, knocking against the door frame before striding away. You focus back on your checklist, feeling like a golden trophy. 

—-

You fret for longer than you’d ever care to admit over what dress you’ll wear. The velvet dress is too revealing. The long navy dress is too formal. The pink dress–well, that’s the dress that got you into the situation. Marcus has already seen this dress on you–under Lucius’s jacket as he dropped you off. You play it safe, choosing a simple cream dress with delicate blooms of flowers stitched across it, paired with sensible heels. 

The doorbell chimes promptly at 8:00 PM.

You straighten your dress and take a deep, centering breath before opening the door. 

Marcus Acacius stands on your doorstep wearing a dark suit that hugs his broad shoulders. He’s left the top couple of buttons undone, exposing a bit of his tanned skin. He holds a beautiful bouquet of pink foxgloves in his hand, holding them out to you with a sweet smile that falters as his eyes roam over your body. You want to pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming when you follow the gulp of air he swallows down. 

“I, uh, hope you don’t mind the foxgloves again. Call me unoriginal, but I don’t know what flowers you like. Figure this honors the stables.”

“Actually, I love foxgloves, thanks,” you say, smiling and inhaling the sweet scent. “Come on in. Make yourself at home while I grab a vase.”

He hesitates before following you in. 

“I haven’t been in here since your parents moved,” he says, a bit of surprise in his voice as he takes in his surroundings. “It’s been a while.”

“I’ve tried to change some things up. It’s kind of weird still living in your childhood home, but the commute to work isn’t bad.” 

“I like it,” he says before picking up a framed photo of you with your parents. “I remember this day.”

“Of course you do,” you say nonchalantly as you fill a vase. “It was yours and Barley’s first championship.” 

“Well, yes, but I mean I remember you that day.” His voice lowers, and you almost drop the vase. 

You look up, your heart skipping a beat when you see the intensity of his eyes. 

“You had the biggest smile on your face when I won.” 

Your cheeks warm at his words, and you hide the look on your face by looking down and adjusting the flowers arranged in the vase. 

“I was just excited for you… and Barley, of course.”

He sets the frame down and hums in acknowledgment before his eyes roam around the room again. “It does feel different in here.”

—-

A simple black Audi with tinted windows. That’s what three-time world champion horse jumper Marcus Acacius drives every day. It makes sense, really–the car is understated, luxurious, and reliable, a lot like him.

The countryside is dark outside Marcus’s car as he drives you to dinner. Small talk fills the twenty-minute drive. You’re able to occasionally steal glances at him in the dark interior of the car, his features lit by the dashboard.

“It’s a beautiful night,” you say, breaking a moment of comfortable silence.

Marcus nods, his eyes fixed on the road.

“It is. I’m—” he clears his throat. “I’m glad you let me take you out.”

"I'm glad too.”

He glances over at you, his dark brown eyes twinkling in the night, and his small smile makes your heart flutter.

—- The Winding Path is unassuming and quaint. The small restaurant is tucked away inside an ivy-covered brick building, simple yet upscale.

The maître’d greets Marcus warmly, clearly recognizing him as a regular patron, before leading you to a secluded table near the back of the dining room. You slide into the plush velvet booth, and Marcus slides in next to you–closer than you expect, his thigh brushing against yours.

The candlelight from the votive on the table flickers across Marcus’s face. You can’t look away from his eyes as he holds up his tumbler of whiskey to cheers your martini.

“To you slapping me in my face,” he says with a smirk as he toasts you. “I deserved it.”

“You deserved it,” you say as you clink your glass against his with a wide grin.

"So, um, are you looking forward to Rome?" he asks while waiting for your entrees.

"I am. It's always beautiful there. Have you been practicing your Italian?"

He chuckles. "A little. I can at least order a coffee now without completely butchering the language."

“Un caffè nero per favore.” (One black coffee please.)

He hums an appreciative noise, his eyebrow quirking up. “That’s it. How’d you know I take my coffee black?”

“That’s how you used to ask for it whenever my mom would make you a cup.”

“Good memory.”

“I suppose so.”

Conversation flows easily, but moments of comfortable silence settle between you as you enjoy your meals. Each look exchanged between you lingers longer than propriety dictates. Marcus doesn’t shy away; his eyes follow the movement of your hands and the curve of your smile.

“So, I’ve been wondering. Why does this place remind you of me?” you ask as Marcus settles the check. “All I see is a nice restaurant.”

"It’s not just the restaurant. It’s how I feel when I’m here.” You tilt your head in confusion, intrigued by what he has to say. “How so?” “My first apartment when I moved here to train was across the street. The parking lot we parked in—that’s the same lot I used to park in almost twenty years ago after long training sessions at Foxglove. “When I’m here, I feel at peace. Like nobody sees the trophies or championships. They just see me, and I can exist without any pretense or expectation. I can just… breathe.”

“And that reminds you of me?”

“Yes. It reminds me of Foxglove Downs and you.”

In all the years you've known him, you've never seen this side of him, this vulnerability, this openness. It shocks you.

“Marcus–I… that means a lot.”

"Would you like to take a walk?" he asks, a hint of hopefulness in his voice. “I’d like to show you my favorite place here. There’s a park not far away."

You nod, your heart still racing at his confession and the new side of Marcus he’s showing you. He’s charming, sweeter, less gruff, and more vulnerable. You truly feel like he might be taking you on an actual date. 

"I'd love to."

Marcus offers you his arm as you step out into the cool evening air.

The park is a quick walk from the restaurant. Marcus leads you through the wrought-iron gate to a wooden bench in front of a sizable fountain.

You sit as a chill rolls through your body, and you shiver. Marcus notices, quickly removing his jacket and laying it over your shoulders.

“Better?” he asks. 

You nod, relishing the warm scent of him surrounding you.

"Did I ever tell you about my first competition?" Marcus's voice breaks through the gentle trickle of the water and brisk nighttime breeze.

“No,” you reply, genuinely curious. “But please, tell me.” 

“It was a disaster.” A chuckle escapes him, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I was fifteen, perched atop a borrowed horse that was not as enthusiastic about jumping as I was."

You smile, making a little hmph at the thought. Marcus looks over and grins, encouraged by your reaction.

"The horse's name was Thunderbolt–ironic because he was the exact opposite of fast. I was convinced I was destined for the trophy. My palms were so sweaty I could barely hold the reins. My name is called. We trot into the arena and, as we approach the first jump, Thunderbolt eyes it warily, but I feel confident. We pick up speed, and just as he's about to jump, Thunderbolt decides he'd rather not. He stops dead in his tracks, so I go sailing over his head, right into the jump."

"Oh no! Were you hurt?"

Marcus shakes his head and chuckles again. "Only my pride. I landed in a heap of poles and sawdust. The crowd was dead silent for a moment, and then everyone burst into laughter."

"What did you do?"

"I stood up, dusted myself off, and took a bow. Then I led Thunderbolt out of the arena with the little dignity as I had left.”

Your laugh echoes across the nighttime air, and Marcus’s smile is wide as he watches you.

"Wow, you did need my dad."

"Indeed.”

It’s always been so clear, Marcus’s unyielding tenacity, his quiet strength—it isn’t just what makes Marcus Acacius a formidable competitor; it was what made him extraordinary, period. This feeling of admiration you have for him is rooted in something far beyond your shared love for horses and the sport.

"Thank you," you say softly after a while. "For sharing that with me."

"Only fair. I’ve known you for so long, yet I feel like I barely know you outside of Foxglove. And that could be my fault.” He lets out a long, deep sigh. “I’d like to know you.”

You feel the weight of his words settle between you.

"Marcus," you begin, your voice barely above a whisper, "I never realized—"

"Realized what?" he interrupts, turning towards you with a curiosity that mirrors your own.

"Never mind," you say, dismissing your half-formed thought with a wave of your hand. It's foolish, really, how one person's earnestness can suddenly make the night seem so intimate.

He reaches for your hand, his large one engulfing yours, instantly warming you. Your fingers tangle. A jolt of electricity surges through you, leaving you breathless, and you quickly withdraw your hand.

"Sorry," Marcus murmurs, but his eyes don't leave yours.

"Me too," you reply, though you're not sure what you're apologizing for—the touch or your reaction to it.

You glance up at him, and something in his gaze changes—a softening around the edges, a vulnerability that beckons you closer.

"Marcus..." you begin again. This time, you let the silence after his name hang between you, filled with all the things you want to say but can't quite voice.

He leans forward, closing the distance until you can see the flecks of gold in his dark brown eyes. "Sunny," he whispers.

And then his lips are on yours, hesitant at first, as if testing the reality of the moment. But the hesitation gives way to urgency, and you find yourself responding equally. Your hands grip the smooth fabric of his button-up shirt, pulling him closer. His kiss is everything you imagined—intense, consuming, and perfect.

Just as quickly as it begins, Marcus pulls away, his breaths coming out in short gasps. He looks around, widening his eyes when he realizes you’re both out in the open, exposed to whoever wants to walk by.

“Follow me?”

You nod and grab his hand, this time not pulling away.

—-

You follow him back through the streets, now with your hand in his, as he leads you to a narrow alley nestled between two buildings.

He gently backs you up against the rough brick wall, and his hands settle on your hips. Your breath catches as he leans in, his lips hovering right in front of yours.

You’re panting for air as he closes the distance, capturing your lips in a kiss.

Your hands slide up his chest to loop around his neck and pull him closer. His tongue brushes against your lower lip, and you happily oblige in letting him in.

A low groan rumbles in Marcus's chest as he presses his body flush against yours, the heat of him flowing through the thin fabric of your dress. His hands roam your body, caressing and kneading. Your head falls back against the brick wall as his mouth travels along your jaw, teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear.

"I've wanted this for so long,” he breathes against your skin.

You gasp a response as Marcus's large hands clutch your ass. He pulls your hips firmly against his, his cock pressing insistently against you as he begins to grind slowly.

"Oh god, Marcus," you moan breathlessly, your nails digging into his shoulder blades as you roll your hips against him.

He hitches your leg up around his waist to allow him to grind against you harder, angling himself against you in a way that makes you bite your lip, resisting the urge to scream his name. He’s thick and throbbing against you.

“Fuck,” you whisper into the cool night air as his tongue laves across your neck.

He grunts against you when he rocks into you harder, faster. There’s a coil of tension low in your belly, winding itself tighter and tighter. The years of dreaming about him, of watching him from afar, of lingering looks and touches–you’ve been drawn to him for almost twenty years, through college, boyfriends that didn’t last, championship trophies, and now, Lucius.

Now, his strong body is pressed against yours, his hands and mouth all over you. It feels like two decades of longing are finally coming to fruition.

His hand snakes between your bodies, and his fingers slip beneath the hem of your dress to caress the smooth skin of your inner thigh. He looks up at you, his dark brown eyes almost black in the glow of the street lights and distant moon.

Slowly, he trails his fingers higher, skimming the lace edge of your panties.

He nods–an ask for permission.

You respond, nodding fervently, your mouth agape and eyes wide.

"Fuck, so wet for me already," he whispers approvingly as he feels the pool of your wetness gathered. He rubs you through the thin barrier, the pressure of his fingers against your swollen, sensitive pussy making you whimper with need.

"Shh, baby," he whispers. "We don't want anyone to hear what a needy little thing you are, do we?"

You softly groan. Fuck, he’s got a dirty mouth.

He tugs your panties to the side, exposing your wet heat to the cool night air. You gasp as his fingers finally touch you, stroking you with a maddeningly light touch. He traces your slit from bottom to top, circling your aching clit.

"Please, Marcus," you breathe.

He silences you with a deep, claiming kiss, swallowing your moans as he finally sinks one long finger into your tight hole. Your walls clench, drawing him in deeper. He pumps into you slowly, letting you feel every inch as he slowly stretches you open.

Soon, a second finger joins the first, your hips trying to meet his hand as his fingers fill and stretch you. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing firm circles around the sensitive nub in time with the thrusts of his fingers.

You grip his shirt in your fists, holding on for dear life. Your hips rock shamelessly against his hand, meeting each thrust, desperate for more. The wet sounds of his fingers plunging in and out of your soaked pussy seem obscenely loud in the quiet night air.

"Fuck my fingers, Sunny. You’re doing so good," he growls, nipping at your earlobe. "You’re taking me so well.”

His filthy words rumbling against you are nearly enough to push you over the edge. A high, keening moan escapes your lips before you can stop it, earning you a particularly hard thrust.

"Quiet, remember? Or I'll have to stop." His fingers still inside you and you clench around him frantically, silently begging him to continue. Your eyes meet his, your teeth biting down on your lip to stifle the sounds that want to escape.

You give him a singular nod.

“Good girl,” he says as he begins pumping his fingers in and out of you at a maddening pace.

Your head falls against the brick wall. His words, his touch, the feeling of his fingers buried deep inside you, the years of longing–it’s all too much. Your pussy begins to radiate heat throughout your body. Marcus backs you up farther against the wall as your knees begin to quake, and you flood his hand with your slick.

He works you through your orgasm, whispering filthy praises in your ear as you ride out the aftershocks.

“That’s it. You’re so beautiful when you cum for me. You’re squeezing my fingers so tight. I can’t wait to feel how sweet your pussy feels around m—”

BANG! The sound of a door slamming open nearby makes you both freeze.

Loud laughter and voices fill the night air as a group of bar patrons stumbles out into the street.

"Fuck," Marcus curses under his breath. He quickly withdraws his fingers from your pulsing core, bringing them to his mouth to lick them clean, his eyes never leaving yours.

The taste of you on his fingers makes Marcus groan softly.

Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, your body still thrumming from the intense orgasm.

The drunken laughter grows louder as the group approaches. You hastily smooth down your dress and fix your panties while Marcus adjusts himself, trying to hide the obvious bulge straining against his slacks.

Just as the bar patrons round the corner, you and Marcus step out of the shadowed alley, trying your best to look casual and not like you were just getting finger-fucked against a brick wall moments ago.

"Evening," Marcus nods politely as you pass by the group. A few mumble greetings back, but most are too drunk to pay you any mind.

Once you're a safe distance away, you glance at each other and burst out laughing, giddy from the close call. Marcus takes your hand, interlacing your fingers.

"Come on, I'll drive you home," he says.

—-

Marcus keeps one hand on the wheel while the other rests high on your thigh, his thumb rubbing maddening circles across your soft flesh. You’re aching to feel his hands on you again, to finish what you started.

All too soon, he pulls onto the grounds of Foxglove Downs and up the hill to your home.

You don’t want the night to end. The anticipation that’s been building since he asked you out, how sweet he was during dinner, the other side he showed you of himself after knowing him for twenty years, the feel of his fingers on you in the darkened alley. You hope he can feel the heat you feel for him radiating off of you as it crackles in the air.

Marcus puts the car in park, and the engine quiets, leaving only the sound of your breathing.

He turns to face you, his dark eyes smoldering. “I had a wonderful time tonight.” “Me too,” you whisper with a slight tremble. “I… I don’t want it to end.”

His gaze drops to your lips, and he leans closer, his hand sliding higher up your thigh. "Neither do I.”

Emboldened by the privacy of the car and the cover of night, you place your hand over his, guiding it higher until his fingers brush the edge of your panties. "So why don't you come inside."

He inhales sharply, his eyes fluttering closed for a second as if struggling to maintain control. “I want to.”

“Then do it,” you breathe.

He takes your hand as you exit the car. You lead him up the familiar path to your door—the same one you used to watch him walk up all those years ago as you sat in your room.

As you find your keys, Marcus’s hands find your waist, his fingertips skimming the thin fabric of your dress. His breath is hot against your neck, his lips just grazing your sensitive skin. Finally, the key slides into the lock, and the door swings open.

You step inside, flicking on the entryway light. The soft glow illuminates Marcus's handsome features as he follows you in, his dark eyes sweeping over the familiar surroundings.

He pauses, his gaze landing on a framed photo on the wall - a much younger version of you grinning with your father.

The realization seems to wash over him as you turn, already skimming the sleeves of your dress down your arms.

“We’ve really known each other for so long, haven’t we?” Marcus asks, his eyes still on the photo.

You pause, your dress half-off, and follow his gaze to the photo. A younger you smiles back, the same you who dreamed about having Marcus all alone in this house with you.

"We have," you agree softly, letting your dress fall to the floor, leaving you in just your lacy bra and panties. "Sometimes it feels like a lifetime."

Marcus turns to you, his eyes widening as he takes in your nearly naked form. You can see his throat bob as he swallows hard.

"Sunny," he breathes.

"I've wanted this–wanted you–for so long," you confess.

Marcus steps forward, his hand coming up to gently cup your face, his thumb tracing your cheekbone. Your eyes flutter shut as you lean into his palm.

"Sunny," he whispers again.

Slowly, he leans in, his nose brushing against yours as he tilts your face up to his.

His eyes dart back to the photo of you and your father, and with a low, frustrated groan, Marcus backs away.

“I’m sorry, I can’t. Not… not with everything.”

Your head turns, curiosity and frustration passing across your face.

You blink in confusion, your heart sinking as Marcus takes another step back. "What do you mean?" you ask.

Marcus runs a hand through his hair, his expression torn. "Sunny, I–I like you. But your father, he's been like a mentor to me. And now, with the Rome Championship coming up..." He trails off, his eyes flickering between you and the photo on the wall.

"Marcus," you say softly, taking a step towards him. "My father doesn't have to factor into this. We're both adults."

He shakes his head, his jaw clenching. "It's not just that. There's Lucius, the competition, Foxglove. I can't afford any distractions right now."

You feel a flash of hurt at his words. "Is that what I am? A distraction?"

"No, of course not," Marcus says quickly, reaching out to touch your arm but stopping himself. "You're so much more than that. But the timing... it's all wrong."

You wrap your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling very exposed in just your underwear. "So what was this then? Just a moment of weakness?"

Marcus's eyes soften as he looks at you. "It was real—it is real. But I can’t—I can’t lose focus. And you deserve someone who can give you their full attention."

"I'm not asking for your full attention, Marcus. I'm just asking for a chance."

Marcus sighs heavily, his shoulders slumping. "I know. And believe me, I want to give us that chance. But there's so much at stake right now."

"So that's it then?" Your voice trembles slightly. "We just pretend this never happened?"

Marcus looks at you, his eyes filled with regret. "I think... I think it's for the best. At least for now."

You nod slowly, fighting back the tears that threaten to fall. "I understand. You should go."

He pauses, looking like he wants to say more. Instead, he simply nods and turns towards the door, reaching for the doorknob.

"Marcus?"

His shoulders deflate at how fragile your voice sounds. He looks back at you over his shoulder.

"Was any of it real? Tonight, I mean."

"Every second of it,” he answers, leaving you standing alone in your entryway in only your underwear.

—-

A/N: Thank you for reading! Please excuse to lack of Lucius in this chapter... Marcus girlies... you're welcome? I think?

—-

Tagging those who asked and some friends! Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.

@ohheypedrito, @schnarfer, @magpiepills, @sawymredfox, @devineconjuring

@mothandpidgeon, @hellfire-state-of-mind, @darkheartgatita, @umnitsa, @christinamadsen

@pedrit0-pascalit0, @ace-turned-confused, @itwasntimethatdidit40, @lotusbxtch, @almostfoxglove

@lady--lynn, @chrissy-forfucksakes-wakeup, @copperhalfcent, @ferns-fics, @thesoftdumbass

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Me, You, and Baby, Too

Summary: You and Joel have always wanted kids, but didn't want to rush into having them until you both were ready. After a surprise at his job, Joel realizes there's nothing more he wants to do than put a baby in you as soon as he gets home.

Pairing: Husband!Joel Miller x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 4.1K

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (it's baby making time, so hush), oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, big ole fat and nasty breeding kink (.... don't look at me it's bad), creampie, cum play, talks of starting a family, calling Joel "Daddy" (in the sense you want to have his babies, but also 🤷🏼‍♀️), Sweet soft Joel who loves his wife and would give her the universe if he could, honestly with just the way Joel is talking about makin' babies, I think I'm pregnant

A/N: It's that time of the month where Madeline ovulates and writes feral breeding kink smut!!! 🤪 Okay I am so nervous to post this because I have never written for Joel before and I'm worried it's trash with a capital T, but after re-watching TLOU, I need 2003 Joel Miller carnally, so here we are. This is also inspired by @mrsmando post about 2003 Joel Miller constantly keeping you barefoot and pregnant because it made me unwell, and no lies were told. (thanks for ruining my life mimi) 🤠 ANYWHO I hope you guys like it, and if not, I'll shut up and go back to writing Javi and Frankie and pretend like this didn't happen

There were a lot of stereotypical answers that you expected from your husband when you asked him how his day at work had been:  

“Good.” 

“Fine.” 

“Long.” 

“My knees are killin’ me.” 

“Tommy did somethin’ fuckin’ stupid again.” 

“Better now that I’m home with you.” 

So when Joel arrived home today after a new job he had started with Tommy on a bathroom renovation, there were few things that could have prepared you for the response your husband had when you asked him how his day had gone. 

“Hey, honey. How was your day today?” You smiled, watching Joel stroll in through your front door, kicking off his work boots at the entryway, beginning to put away his things before strolling into the kitchen to greet you. 

“Pretty good." He paused, leaning in for a quick kiss before making his way over to the closet before speaking again. "Saw a real cute baby today.” 

You could practically feel your heart skip a beat as you looked up from the vegetables you had been cutting up for dinner, tightening the grip you had around your knife to make sure you didn’t drop it in shock. 

Out of all the things for Joel to bring up on the first day at a new job, a cute baby had been at the top of the list.

Not floor plans. 

Not timelines for the project.

Not something stupid that Tommy did. 

Not even what he had done today on the job. 

The top news that Joel Miller had to report back to you about his day was the sighting of a cute baby. 

You and Joel had always agreed that you’d wanted kids, and your husband had been not only adamant, but genuinely excited at the prospect of becoming a dad. But only being a little less than a year into your marriage, the two of you had decided you didn’t want to rush into anything, and when the time felt right, you’d both know it. 

But one by one, as your friends began to announce their pregnancies, baby showers, and pictures of their adorable newborns, you couldn’t help but deny the baby fever starting to burn hotter and hotter inside you with every passing day. 

You’d brought it up in passing a few times with Joel, talking about your friends who had kids, or a cute mom and her children you saw walking around in your neighborhood, and while he had always had a positive response to what you had to say, you just had a feeling that now just wasn’t the time for the two of you yet, and that was okay.  

But here you were, standing in your kitchen, jaw practically scraping the ground at the notion that your husband had dropped just about the least subtle hint ever that babies weren’t just at the forefront of your mind- they were on his, too. 

“Awh, really?” You asked, shaking your head to snap out of your shocked state, returning back to dice the onion you had been working on before Joel could turn around to see you after finishing hanging up his things in the closet, trying to subtly coax more information out of him. 

“Yeah.” He smiled, joining you in the kitchen, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer to his chest for a soft kiss to greet you, “The family we’re startin’ the bathroom reno for just moved in. Had their first baby a few months ago and just hadn’t had time to work on fixin’ things.” 

“So they’re already putting the baby to work with you and Tommy?” You teased, raising an eyebrow at Joel playfully, giving him a quick peck back on the lips as he laughed at your sass. 

“Cheap labor.” Joel shrugged back, playing into the joke, “Nah, she woke up from her nap while Tommy and I were runnin’ through some measurements so her mom brought her out for the last lil bit we were there. She was damn cute, too. Just smilin’ and laughin’ at everything.” 

You were glad Joel’s arm was still wrapped around your hip, because you were convinced if it wasn’t, you were about to melt to the floor into a puddle, watching how soft and sweet Joel was talking about a cute, smiling baby. 

“Well a cute baby definitely sounds like a very nice perk of being on the job.” You smirked, trying to play it cool enough to keep your heart from bursting out of your chest. 

“Yeah.” Joel replied softly, quietly pausing for a moment, watching the gears turning in his brain, carefully calculating his words before he spoke. 

“You okay?” You asked, looking up at Joel, knowing your husband well enough that he had something on his mind he was trying to work up the confidence to spit out. 

Joel looked back down at you, big brown eyes locking with yours as his grip around your waist tightened ever so slightly, tongue swiping against his plush bottom lip as he took a long, deep breath in and slow exhale out.  

“Honey, what is it?” You asked again, now slightly concerned with how nervous your husband looked in his stoic silence, reaching up to gently wrap your fingers around his arm, thumb stroking his skin. 

“I want one.” 

You froze, worried that your heart may have actually stopped as you looked at Joel, making sure that you had really just heard what he had said. 

“W-what?” 

“I want one. A baby. I- I know it’s been a while since we’ve talked about it, but I’ve been thinkin’ about it a lot, and seein’ that baby today, it just- shit, I just couldn’t stop picturin’ what it would be like to have one of our own I guess.” 

If you weren’t a puddle before, you sure as fuck were now.  

An overwhelming sensation of nerves and excitement began thrumming through your veins, your heart beat pounding in your ears as your face grew warm and a smile started to spread between your cheeks. You were almost certain you had to be dreaming, asking again to make sure that someone needed to come and wake you up and send you back to reality. 

“Joel… Really?” 

“Yeah, really. Nothin’ I want more. I know I ain’t gonna even be close to the perfect dad, but I know you’ll be sucha good mom, and I’ll be damned if I don’t want some tiny lil versions of us runnin’ around. Couldn’t think of anything that would make me happier than that. Like I said, I know that we ain’t talked about in a while, and if ya aren’t ready yet that’s okay but I-” 

Before Joel could even finish the rest of his thought, you were pressing up to plant your lips to his with passionate intensity, hands roaming up his chest before cupping his jaw and the scratchy stubble of his cheeks while your stomach flipped with arousal and want, already feeling a damp patch beginning to pool in the cotton of your underwear. 

You pulled away, kisses traveling along his jawline and up his neck until you were nipping at his ear, the hot breath of your words whispering against his skin. 

“You wanna make a baby, Joel Miller?” 

“Fuck-” Joel groaned, reaching his other arm around you grab at your ass, pulling you in tight enough to feel the bulge beginning to grow under the denim of his worn jeans, pressing against your thigh.

“‘Cause there’s nothing that I want more than to make you a daddy.” You smirked, looking up to watch Joel’s eyes darken with lust, jaw going slack as a low groan rumbled in his chest, his once half hard cock now fully erect and straining against his zipper, trying to keep from giggling watching your husband try to string together any sort of thoughts to speak. 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ-” He moaned, running his hand over his face to try and regain his composure to keep from busting right then and there. “You- fuck, you sure, baby?” 

“Mhmmmm. Don’t think I’ve ever been so sure of anything in my whole life. So sure,” you paused, softly pressing your lips to his between words, “that I think we should go make one right now.” 

Your adamant confirmation was all it took to set off something almost animalistic in Joel, crashing his lips back into yours in a messy clash of tongues and teeth, gripping his hands under your thighs to hoist you up around his hips and lock your legs behind the small of his back. Without ever letting your mouths part, Joel was already halfway to the bedroom before you had even realized it, playfully giggling at how frantically he was carrying you down the hallway, your bodies bumping against the walls and door frames, too focused on desperate and needy kisses for any sort of spatial awareness. 

Finally reaching your bed, Joel carefully laid you down, letting your back fall into the mattress, leaving your lower half to hang off the edge before your husband was on his knees, settling himself between your parted thighs. 

You sat up on your elbows, watching as Joel tightened his grip around the meat of your legs, peppering kisses up the inside of each across your soft skin before coming face to face with your core, planting another soft kiss there before letting his fingers ghost over your heat, still covered by your jeans. 

He rapidly worked at the button of your pants, shuffling them down off your hips to reveal your underwear, now absolutely soaked with arousal from the prospect alone of Joel knocking you up and carrying his baby. 

“Jesus Christ, baby girl, look at ‘cha.” Joel tutted, admiring how the cotton of your underwear clung to the outline of your cunt, sticking to the puffy and swollen lips of your pussy from how wet you were. “Haven’t even touched ya yet. This all for me, darlin’?” 

Just as you began to try and answer, Joel took one of his fingers, barely dragging it over the damp fabric before beginning to rub soft circles over your covered clit, eliciting a pathetic whimper from you at the electric sensation.  

“F-fuck- It’s all for you, b-baby.” You stammered, moaning even louder as a second finger joined the first, pressing more pressure into you sensitive nub as he nudged each of your legs to drape over his shoulders, his free hand tugging at the waistband of your underwear, making you instinctually lift your hips as he yanked them off your legs to crumple in a messy pile with your pants. 

“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever seen.” Joel mewled, running his fingers up and down through the weeping seams of your folds, toying with your entrance while draping his arm across your hips to hold your squirming lower half in place. “Wants me to fuck her full of me and fill her up so bad, huh?” 

“P-please, Joel. Want you to fill me up so badly.” You whimpered, staring down at your husband, a devilish grin spread across his face, licking his lips as his eyes darted back and forth between your blissed out face and the glistening mess between your thighs. 

“I will sweetheart, promise. Gotta taste you first though, baby. Gotta make sure you’re nice n’ready for me. ‘Cause once we start, I ain’t lettin’ you outta this bed ‘till I knock you up.” 

With that, Joel was diving between your legs, lapping you up in long and firm strokes, pressing against your clit in the way he knew would make you fall apart under his tongue. While he would have loved to have spend hours just like this, making you writhe under his touch, drinking up your arousal like a wandering man parched in the heat of the desert, Joel had one thing on his mind, and one thing only- 

To get you pregnant.   

Joel began to intensify the pace of his tongue, swirling and sucking around your clit as two of his thick fingers pushed into your heat, sliding in and out of your entrance with ease from how wet and worked up you were. Curling his fingers ever so slightly, you cried out as Joel bumped against your g-spot, pushing against the soft, spongy spot as his tongue worked its magic. 

You could feel the arousal shooting through your veins, heat beginning to bloom in your stomach as Joel fucked you with his fingers and mouth, shooting your hand down to grab fistfulls of his thick, brown hair to brace yourself for your impending orgasm. 

“J-Joel, oh fuck- Fuck, baby, I’m c-close. Don’t stop, please, don’t stop.” You whined, pussy beginning to flutter around Joel’s fingers, the tightening only egging him on further to get you to cross the finish line. 

With just a little more pressure of his tongue, Joel could feel your cunt clamping down around his digits, watching the pleasure shoot through your body as you came, your orgasm crashing through you like a tsunami. 

As you reached your high, Joel drank up your arousal, not faltering in his pace, too focused on your pretty cries of his name being chanted like a prayer to do anything but keep going and making you feel good. 

Truth be told, Joel had gotten so lost between your thighs, the only thing stopping him was the tensing feeling between his, so pussy drunk and determined to fuck you full of him that he was worried he was about to cum too if he didn’t stop. 

Pulling off you, Joel frantically stood up, racing to undo his belt and jeans, yanking them down his legs in tandem with his boxers as his cock slapped against his stomach, precum already pearling from his tip, desperate to be inside of you. His shirt quickly followed his pants, ripping it over his head as his broad body caged yours under him, helping you to scoot back on the bed until your head hit the pillows, trailing kisses up and down your body the whole way. 

As Joel kissed and nipped at your skin, you quickly shuffled off your top and bra, leaving you bare beneath him, moaning as his tongue flicked against each of your newly exposed pebbled nipples, grouping your breast and kneading the soft flesh in his palms. 

Even though you had just came, you could already feel your cunt starting to clench around nothing, desperate to feel Joel inside of you, to stretch you out with his thick cock and fuck you until you couldn’t think straight. But with the way your chest was heaving and breath shaking from your orgasm, you could barely muster out the words you wanted. 

“J-Joel, p-please, baby. P-please.” 

You snaked your hand between your bodies to reach for Joel’s cock, wrapping your fingers around his length and swiping your thumb over his leaking tip, a low groan rumbling in his chest as you stroked him, trying to guide him to slide between your legs and ease your ache. 

Lowering his hips, you moved your hand and let his replace it, Joel pumping himself a few times before guiding his tip between your folds, collecting your slick to coat his cock, using every last ounce of self-control he had as his eyes locked with yours, wanting to see your face as he pushed inside you. 

“Please, what, darlin’?” Joel teased, knowing damn well what you were begging for. 

“Need to feel you, Joel. Need you to put a baby in me.” You moaned, reaching up to grab his face, your palm rubbing against his stubble as your fingers tugged on the curls at the nape of his neck. 

With one more pump, Joel lined himself up with your entrance, sliding into your heat, the sweet stretch and sting of his length making the breath hitch in the back of your throat, filling you up inch by inch until he bottomed out inside you with his tip just kissing your cervix. 

Joel couldn’t help but smirk as he watched your mouth fall open, parted lips letting a soft moan escape while your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head at the newfound sensation, giving you another moment to adjust before he began to slowly roll his hips, dragging his cock in and out of your core. 

“Christ, baby girl, so wet and tight. Like this pussy was made just for me. Made for me to fuck ya full of me until it’s got no choice but to fuckin’ take.” Joel groaned, reaching down to grab your thighs, pinning your knees to your chest, stretching you open to take Joel even deeper, practically feeling him in your stomach with the position he had you in. 

“Joel, oh my god- fuck, you feel so good. Fuck, baby. Want you to fill me up so bad.” You whimpered, Joel now beginning to pick up his pace as he thrust in and out of you, continually punching in that perfect spot over and over again, leaving your brain bordering on short circuiting. 

Joel’s fingertips dug deeper into the flesh of your thighs, pushing your legs down just far enough to be chest to chest with you, the sweat dampened curls of his forehead brushing against yours as your mouths met in an electric kiss, catching each other’s muffled moans with each snap of Joel’s hips. 

“Yeah, sweetheart? Want me to fill you up? Fuck a baby into you? Let everyone see what a pretty momma you are, carryin’ our kid?” Joel grunted, picturing you, months from now, belly round and tits swollen, pregnant with your baby, wondering how many you’d let him give you, because fuck, he’d keep knocking you up until he had nothing left to give. 

Each push and pull of your bodies against each other felt more and more electric, an undeniable coil tightening in your stomach with the way Joel was pounding into you and the hairs at the base of his cock were brushing against your clit, already feeling yourself beginning to teeter on the brink of pleasure once again. 

“Yes, fuck, fuck- yes, Joel. I wanna have your baby. Want you to knock me up so I can make you a daddy. Please, baby, please.” You were all but sobbing at this point, your fingers digging into the tan and sweat sheened skin of Joel’s broad shoulders, overwhelmed by the lewd combinations of Joel’s heavy pants in your ear and wet squelching of your pussy as his pelvis flushed against yours repeatedly. 

Joel could feel you beginning to tighten around him, pussy sucking him in with its warmth and wetness, ready to clamp around his cock and milk him for all he was worth. 

“That’s it, darlin’, I know you’re close. Gotta cum for me first though, baby girl. Gotta feel ya soak me before I stuff ya so full of me, I swear t’god, you’ll be drippin’ outta me for days. So fuckin’ full that I’ll get you pregnant right now.” Joel groaned through gritted teeth, leaning back to reach and grab your leg, wrapping it around the small of his back before you lifted your other to join it, locking your ankles to keep him as close to you as possible. 

“Joel, oh my god, fuck baby, fuck, I’m gonna- fuckfuckfuck-” 

Suddenly, your orgasm was rushing through every inch of you, crying out as the pleasure hit you like a freight train, choking Joel’s cock with your pussy, unable to do anything but relish in the white hot bliss that had you nearly floating out of your own body. 

While Joel would have kept fucking you until the sun went down, the truth was he was relieved to feel you cum, spending every second since your agreement in the kitchen trying to keep from finishing until he was balls deep inside you and you were soaking his cock as you reached your high. The realization that now was his chance to make good on his promise, to fill you up and fuck a baby into you, ignited something primal, feral, in him, pounding into you at a punishing pace as he could feel himself teetering on the brink of collapse right with you. 

“That’s my girl. That’s it, cum all over my cock, baby. Shit, I’m gonna cum too, fuck- gonna fill this tight lil pussy up so goddamn much, give you a baby, make you a momma, oh fuck!” 

With one final stutter of his hips, Joel let out a strangled moan, flushing his hips against yours as he milked himself of every last drop, painting your warm, wet walls with hot ropes of his spend, making sure nothing went to waste. 

He couldn’t help but but press even further into you, plugging you with his length and fucking his cum as deep as he could into your cunt to make sure it took, collapsing on top of you with his cock still buried in your heat, letting your chests heave together in sync as you both caught your breath. 

Joel was convinced he had never cum so much in his entire life, afraid that if he pulled out, that somehow he’d have more left to give, and sure as fuck wasn’t going to risk letting anything coming out of him end up not inside of you. 

Well, not until your muffled grunt rumbled beneath him. 

 “Joel, baby, I love you but you’re kinda squishing me.” You huffed, giggling to yourself as you watched your husband come-to in real time out of his post-orgasmic state, immediately offering a half muttered apology as he rolled off you, sitting back on his knees to admire the shiny and slick mess between your legs. 

“Fuck me…” Joel murmured to himself, eyes wide as he stared at your pussy- wet, puffy and soaking with your arousal, bringing his fingers to your spent hole as he watched a dribble of his cum begin to leak out. Gently scooping it up, he collected everything he could, pressing it back into your cunt before pulling his hand out. Crawling up the bed to lay next to you, Joel wrapped you up in his arms as the little spoon, peppering ticklish kisses over your back and shoulders, making you burst into laughter. 

“Joel, stop! That tickles!” You squealed, squirming in his grasp, trying to defend yourself from his unrelenting attack of soft, plush lips and scratchy beard dancing across your skin. 

“Don’t laugh so damn hard, or all my hard work’s ‘bout to come out!” Joel teased, giving you a playful nudge, pulling you in even closer. 

“Stop making me laugh, then! Plus, I think you came enough to put quadruplets inside of me, so I think we’ll be okay.” You snorted, Joel joining in on the laughter. 

“Baby, I don’t think I’ve ever came that hard in my whole goddamn life.” Joel sighed, shrugging as you rolled your head up to look at him and that stupid goofy grin he got whenever he couldn’t contain his excitement about something. “God, I love you.” 

“I love you too, Joel.” 

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, Joel slowly bringing his arm to rest across your stomach, thumb slowly tracing careful circles on your skin. 

“You’re gonna make such a good mom. I’m the luckiest man alive that you wanna have a family with me. Still not really sure what I ever did to deserve it.” 

“Joel! You’re gonna make me cry! And this is before pregnancy hormones, ya jerk.” You tried to laugh, choking back the tears welling in your eyes. 

“Yeah, what a jerk, your husband tellin’ you how much he loves you.” He teased back, planting a long kiss on your temple, before pressing another one to your lips. Another wave of soft silence followed, watching Joel’s face scrunch in a calculated concentration. “How big of a crib you think I gotta make? I don’t know ‘bout a rockin’ chair, but a crib can’t be that hard. I gotta measure the guest room tomorrow.” 

“Honey, I don’t even know if I’m pregnant yet, you don’t need to have a crib built tomorrow.” You teased, laughing at Joel, despite the fact his mind was already thinking about a baby room and accessories had you melting. 

“Sweetheart, what did I say earlier? I ain’t lettin’ you outta this bed ‘till we know there’s a baby in there.” He smirked, nodding at his hand still splayed across your stomach, “So you better get comfortable, ‘cause if it’s up to me, there ain’t a chance in hell we’re gettin’ anything but a positive pregnancy test at the end of this month, and we'll sure need that crib nine months from now. Never hurts to get a head start."

Tag List: (Sorry if I tagged you and you don't wanna be tagged, just let me know!!)

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper r @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[dilf-docs]

All Roads Lead To Rome

pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: your boyfriend swears he isn't annoyed at your little surprise visit on the set of gladiator II; you might have to help him release his anger, one way... or another.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (BARK BARK BARK), smut, p. in v., bit of exhibition kink cause they fuck on his trailer, he swears he's mad but he just wants head, oral (m. receiving), he also uses his armor and skirt while at it bc its hot and not bc i totally want that to happen to me or smth!!!, brat taming, orgasm denial, breeding and daddy kink lowkey, i'm so down bad for him so there's fluff!!! + pedro being whipped cause that's exactly what i want in my men, the cast makes cameos bc i love them!!! use of spanish (i'm latina so don't even try me), pedro wearing a skirt tehee

word count: 3,519 words

side note: i'm about as FERAL and horny as much as one could be!!! damn u pedro, making me walk out in the middle of class and walk on foot to the nearest theather for an early gladiator II screening (bc they're cheaper and i'm a jobless broke student lmao) that mind u it's my first solo trip to the movies but it's okay!!!! nobody interrupt me on my horny dilf hours amirite I TELL U that cinema was almost empty: just me, pedro and hey there's a spot if u wanna join mescal (look at my blog banner IYKYK) so yeah!!!! enjoy this porn lovechild that steemed from it; my pedro renaissance that'd been asleep since tlou dropped AWAKES (u don't get it, i literally watched narcos just for him) i'm so fr i need this man BIBLICALLY!!

"Lemme guess, that's her, right?"

Pedro looks up from his phone, slightly red and embarrassed. He would blame the color on the sun, and as an actor, fake his way out.

"No idea what you're talking about, Paul"

The young man chuckles.

"I mean, every break we get, you take your chair, sit the farthest and pull your phone with the most ridiculous grin I've ever seen. I'm afraid to tell you, friend, you aren't as slick as you think"

He leans back against the chair, covering his face with his large palm.

"At least I tried" he finds no point in lying anymore, "seems like I'm addicted, but if it wasn't for y/n, I wouldn't touch it"

"I'm curious, though" Paul scoots his chair closer, "who texts who? You or her?"

"Me" he answers, but then corrects himself quickly, a bit ashamed of how that makes him sound, "but it's mostly her first".

"Right" he doesn't sound convinced, rather curious and annoyed, something he's too old and tired for, "I don't believe you"

He's about to lock his phone, but the wallpaper (a selfie with you) would probably earn him another mock from Mescal.

"Too bad I don't need you to"

Before he can do so, the irish man yanks his phone away.

"Give it back!" he shouts, earning a few glances from the crew around them, "what are you, ten?"

"No, twenty-eight" they look like kids bickering. "No need to fight me, Mr. Pascal, they haven't taught us the new fighting choreography yet" he mocks, before the phone chimes; they both stop at the sound.

"What does this mean?" Paul asks. "Malta's nice" he reads out loud, "were you talking about possible future vacations? I might have to tag along"

He doesn't follow the man's joke, instead, looking at the message on your chat. Malta's nice, says the little cryptic message, and yes―it is cryptic, because you were just talking about missing each other and some other corny stuff he'd take to his grave. Not vacations, and certainly, not about the european island, which happens to also be the place were he's filming his latest movie.

"No, we weren't" he replies confused, "what do you think it means?"

"Well, obviously, you boys don't know anything" May pops up from behind, laughing.

"Were you eavesdropping?" he asks playfully, albeit, a little offended.

"No, you guys are just too loud" she replies nonchalant. "Besides, you aren't very good at hiding it, either"

"That's what I said!" Paul backs, laughing on his face.

"Stop being misterious and just drop it"

"It means" she pauses―laughing at her own little dramatic effect, "that you're getting a visit soon"

When you met Pedro, you were working in The Last Of Us. Nothing fancy, just part of the technical cast of the show: helping with the filming and stuff.

During those months, it was easy to find yourself falling for the main star (alongside Bella Ramsey), especially when you spent months behind a camera, capturing all of his perfect features; learning them by memory until you could draw them without seeing his face.

Yes, you had fallen for the older man, because it was as natural as breathing; easy as being alive―the fall so gentle and so easy, it was hard to know when the feelings started. You just woke up one day, feeling different.

You liked to act up―always had what you wanted, and times had changed (so it's not like he had to ask first): why not? Which is why during your last day of shooting you took some liquid courage on your veins and went up his way. It was at a little gathering the crew you've grown to call family organized, while wearing your favorite and tightest dress, that you approached him.

It surprised you that he even recognized you, but that's who he was: warm, welcoming and caring.

To augment the surprise, turns out he had eyed you already, but was too shy to do anything. Yes, the worlds most famous Chilean man. It did stroke your ego, and maybe that's why you feel like most of the time, you've got the upper hand on your relationship, despite the years in between.

Still, you feel like the last message you just sent was a bit too blunt. Now you sit at the tiny airport, pondering your next move.

You know your boyfriend isn't exactly the type to scold or get mad��despite his strong figure, but going against the only thing he asked you might test him. Which is why you feel nervous, despite the happiness around you, everyone in the airport looking straight out of a picture perfect summer edition magazine.

And your theory is proven exactly right when you arrive impromptu at the Gladiator II set: making heads turn and guards almost kick you out, thinking you're a fan.

"You don't get it!" you protest, "he's my boyfriend".

"Sure", they laugh on your face. "you're not the first to say that".

"She's not lying" oh, how you love that gravely voice. But not today: not when he sounds like a parent scolding a naive child. Not when his eyes bore into you, slightly irritated.

So now he's dragging you among the set, right to were his trailer is.

"Aren't you going to introduce me?" you ask, puffing your cheeks out in annoyance. He keeps dragging you by the arm, without sparing a glance in your way. Who does he think he is? "I wanted to tell Paul he made me cry―twice. You know I don't play about Normal People and Aftersun"

"But you do seem to play about my orders" he grunts out, opening the door to his trailer. The sunlight reflects against the white, slightly bothering your eyes with its shine, contrary to your boyfriend's gloomy behaviour.

"Are you being serious right now? You're not my dad to scold me. I just wanted to surprise you" you stand still, refusing to get inside. Pedro knows your character tends to be stubborn, and thought he finds it hot to reel you up sometimes, there are other times where he can't just stand that juvenile spirit of rage you tend to have when things don't go the way you want them to. "What's gotten into you?"

"I could ask you the same" he mocks. "Get inside. Now"

"Rude" you scoff, but obey regardless, and he breathes out relieved you didn't do a scene like last time; he still can't show his face on that restaurant to this day.

"I thought you'd be happy to see me" you say a tad bit dissapointed, and Pascal feels the pissed off feelings clouding his brain start to dissipate.

"I do, amor" he sighs, "just hate to see you do things I tell you not to; waltzing in here like you own the place".

You don't see the mistake, though. What's wrong with wanting to do a little surprise? It's not like you were a stalker or something; just a very clingy girlfriend who happens to miss her boyfriend.

"So, you're not mad?" you venture, "tell me you're not embarrassed"

He looks at you, the fondness of his gaze betraying him.

"I'm not the one wearing a skirt while trying to sound intimidating" you joke while caressing the crook of his nose, knowing you always get on his good side. Being mad isn't something that lasts, "if anyone should be embarrassed, that's you"

"Are you saying I shouldn't wear one because I'm a man?" your boyfriend looks offended, "Have you forgotten the movie I'm starring in? People feared the skirt-wearing Roman army"

"Well, I'm not intimidated" you stand defiant, and something dark tints his brown eyes. You can feel the excitement begin pooling in your stomach.

"You're not?" he grips your wrists and yanks you to him, then holds your chin, tilting your head between his calloused fingers. "Well, cariño, you should be"

Your body slams against one of the trailers walls, and you have to suppress a whine.

"You must be punished for what you did today"

You give him a doe-eye look, pretending to be all innocent, as if you weren't enjoying the punishment.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I've been a good girl"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about" he clicks his tongue, "don't play dumb with me"

"I just came to visit you" you murmur, voice husky against his ear. He grunts, and with the proximity, his hard-on rasps against your bare legs, only partly covered by the flowy summer dress you're wearing, "is that so bad?"

"It is. Has sido mala, cariño" his hand travels down under your dress, carresing with his large palm the silhoutte of your ass. The rings on his fingers create a shock, cold metal against your warm sun-bathed skin. "Naughty girl"

"I promise I'll be good, papi" you purr, using that honeyed voice of yours that makes it hard: hard to say no and hard between his pants.

Pedro sits on a small couch he has inside the trailer, guiding you with his hand enveloped around yours, motioning you to follow with a care so soft, you'd doubt he's about to do to you what he is about to do to you. He pulls you across his lap, smiling (God, you love his smile) as your stomach presses against his tights.

"Don't worry" he breathes low, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll make you a good girl. Tell me, aren't you?"

You swallow, "I am"

He moves the panties easily to the side, rubbing your pussy a little. He then spanks it softly, making you mewl at the sting.

Pedro continues to trace over it, "Are you sure about that?"

"N-no" you shiver in delight, resolve dissolving as quick as it came. "I'm naughty"

"It's good to be aware" he murmurs, "Dilo otra vez"

"I'm a naughty girl"

He lifts your head by your hair. "Tell me what you did"

"Disobeyed your orders, coming to the set" you whisper. He lets go of your hair, his hands traveling down again, slowly teasingly rubbing your pussy while he humms.

"You were a little brat, amor"

You whimpered and mewled in delight. "I was a very naughty brat"

He pushed his fingers inside you, plunging his fingers into your pussy.

"Look at you. You're soaking wet" he pumped his fingers in you, making you moan, "Is that why you came to see me? Couldn't wait any longer for daddy to be inside of you?"

You bucked a little, making him stop. He drags his fingers out, causing you to beg for him to go back.

"Answer my question you greedy thing" He leaned closer to your ear. "Did you need my cock this much?"

You whimper, "I do! Missed you so much"

He pushed his fingers back into you, provoking a moan out of you.

"You're always so needy for me" your core tenses, making you shiver. "How badly do you want me? Tell me"

You whimpered "Badly, papi"

"Say it" his face contorts in satisfaction at your pathethic display; crying little mess, "Who's cock, fingers and mouth make you feel good?"

You can't think at this point, your brain fuzzy and pussy hot, leaking. You kiss his lips, moaning against them, "you!"

"Just me, yes? Nobody else can make you feel this good?"

"No one!"

You involuntarily roll your hips to aid you in pleasure, yet Pedro stops you just before you can reach your orgasm.

"Little brat." he tuts, making you groan. "Did you think I'd let you? You were naughty today, baby"

You huff in annoyance, used to having your way.

"That's your punishment"

"But I'll behave" you mewl against his ear, "I promise"

“Good, because I'm planning on fucking your brains out” his hot breathe whispers in your ear seductively, trying his best not to slur the words at the drunken haze that your arousal provokes in him, "but you have to help me first"

You get on your knees, looking at the garment he's wearing. The skirt and general costume makes this all the more hot, mouth watering at the sight. You raise the skirt, glancing at the briefs; just seeing his dick strained against the fabric makes you wet in anticipation.

He sees the pleasure bore into your orbs, and before you do any dirty idea of yours, he's already warning:

"You have to take this off, what if we-"

"Alright" you cut him off, "but the skirt stays"

"Sigue, pues" he growls, voice low yet demanding, following you in your little game.

As you pull the briefs down, his erection springs out enthusiastically, slapping up against his lower abdomen. You shifted your gaze up to meet his, his eyelids heavy and his proud smirk driving you absolutely wild.

"That's right" he chokes out, "show me how much you missed it"

You give him a proud lick, and Pedro hisses at the moment his preseminal fluid goes in between your hungry lips.

Your tongue darts to the head of his cock, running over it several times before bobbing your head down, taking most of him in your mouth. He keeps praising as you pump the base of his cock with your hand. Your head bobs, yet you peek up to hear Pascal's little sounds and facial expression, a motivation so intimate in the way his brows furrow and eyes roll, mouth agape at your movements while his lip suck on those pretty lips of his. It makes you keep going. With every bob you take as much of him in your mouth as you can, before slowly moving your way back up to the tip, increasing your suction the closer to his head you got. A throaty moan escapes the man above you when you now focus on the final lick, making him closer to coming, all while maintaining eye contact the entire way through.

"Don't do that" he rasps, yanking you by the hair again, as of punishment, but he knows you enjoy it, "you promised you'd be good"

You can't answer, so instead, you reach the head of his cock again, and now his eyes roll back, mumbling profanities that sound like heaven.

"Do you want them to hear us, brat? Qué necia eres" he manages to chastise while moaning.

You feel his dick stuck in your throat, and the way he's about to come; you think that after some time dating, you know him well enough.

You're about to leave with your mouth when he stops you.

"No" your eyes open in shock, "what? Did you think your punishment is over?" Pedro laughs, "don't look at me like that. Like you have never done it before"

He keeps you in place by the hair, the rings prickling against your scalp. You feel his muscles tense up, and before you can think anything else thick and hot shots of cum invade your mouth, making it sticky and warm.

"Don't pretend you don't like it" his voice goes dark, husky. "Swallow it all. Te han enseñado a no desperdiciar nada, ¿verdad? Show me your good manners, then"

When you pull out, your throat feels raspy.

"You gotta reward me" you cough out.

"I promised, didn't I?" his fingers trace your face delicately, with adoration.

"It's all about duty, General Acacius" you purr, and the dick springs out again. Hard.

"Princess..." he warns.

"For the glory of Rome" you joke and laugh, then cough, as your throat is still sore.

"Have you been reading my script?" as you avoid to answer, he just chuckles, "ay, nena"

"C'mere" he motions, and you sit on his lap again. Pedro lifts your dress, exploring the curve of your ass. There's anticipation as he hooks his finger around the waistband of your panties, pulling them down to access your core.

"Fuck" you squirm at his touch, grinding your freed cunt against his hard cock. He grabs you by the hip, adjusting you right on his lap.

"You taste so good" he kisses down your throat, ending at the chest were your tits peak.

"Want them?" you offer, pulling your dress down. He kisses them, gently nipping at your perked up nipples.

A wave of pleasure courses through you, and with whines and moans, you show how desperate you are, the hunger making the meal taste better. After all those weeks missing him, you just want him to fuck you senseless.

His lips are rosy and swollen against yours, mouths clashing; starved of the yearned contact. Truth is, no matter how much you know how to touch yourself, it'll never be the same as having his hard cock tear through your tight folds.

Pedro easily aligns his leaking cock with your uncovered pussy, all while mantaining the kiss. He pushes down on you, your dripping cunt taking all of his rock-hard cock, fingers holding onto the soft brown grey sprinkled locs.

"Pedro" you cry out his name, full of ecstasy as the stretch burns so sweetly. His low grunts only fuel your desire.

You trace with your eyes his body, now bare without the upper part of the costume: his pecs and abs, flexing with every pump. With now free hands, your fingers travel to softly caress his stomach, even if your tits are jiggling and the pace is rather frenetic.

"I missed you so much" you pout.

"Missed how you look" you clash your lips onto his, the adoration translating through the smile you press against, a trail of saliva that symbolizes how interwined you are, "you always look so fucking good"

"I missed you too" he whispers out, getting tired.

He's reminded of his old age, forgetting about it as soon as you two kiss, because you bring out a stamina he thinks he doesn't have anymore; almost animalistic. His bones creak and adding the tiring filming day under the hot sun, he feels his body start to give up, the orgams closer and closer.

He blushes, feeling like a stupid school boy with a crush. What did he even do to deserve you? Never thought a pretty young wild thing like you would even spare a glance on his way, but now you're taking all of his cock inside with such greed yet loom into his eyes with a love he's only dreamed of.

You're real, and his.

As soon as those words leave your mouth your orgasm spills over him, some of it dripping onto the skirt, making him curse. You can't stop, still meeting his thrusts halfway, despite your trembling body after reaching your high.

"Mierda" he groans against your mouth,

You feel yourself collapsing on top of him, the weight of the jet lag catching up.

"Getting tired, baby?" he coos. "Shit, and I thought I was old"

"You are" you reply back; you can never not have the last word. And he lets you, because, God, doesn't he love you? He pretends to look offended by it, but the way your eyes shine tell him you didn't mean it that way. "You and your white hairs" tracing over his moustache, a soft hand combing through his locks, "These wrinkles... don't you know how much I love them? how much I love you?"

"And you have no idea how much I love you" he squeezes his eyes shut, feeling it coming through. "God, wanna make you mine. Sólo mía" his pace slows. It's coming, and yes, you will take it all. "Wanna make you a baby, mami. Want you to take it all like the good girl you are"

When he comes, filling you with burning hot cum until you feel like you might burst, you're numb. But there's a feeling so content that pools warmth in your chest, that you can't say anything else, resting your head against his bare chest, both covered in sticky sweat.

"No sé cómo voy a explicar esto" he speaks through ragged breathes, and you can only smirk, "a squirted and cummed roman skirt".

"That isn't my problem" he scoffs, and you feel your head rise against the movement, earning a laugh out of you, "I'm not part of the movie"

"You'd sure think so, with the way you walked in here"

You roll your eyes, face hidden against his chest, "can you let that go?"

"You're right" he pulls you closer to him, hand enveloping you behind your bare back. The quiet doesn't bother you as you lie closer to his chest, his heartbeat the only thing you need to be at peace, "I think punishment time is over. Think you've learned your lesson"

"Then, how about we go out? I've heard Malta's beaches are pretty"

"Relájate, cariño. Seems you've gotten your energy back" he quips, then kisses your forehead. "We need to wait for everyone to get out"

"That embarrased you are of me?" you joke.

"No" he can already imagine his fellow cast members making fun of him, starting with Paul and Joseph when they see you and Connie who will totally notice the fun sticky stains on the costume, "but embarrased of the explanation I'll have to give"

[thesummerpetrichor]

𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝓫𝓮 𝓶𝔂 𝓭𝓪𝓭𝓭𝔂

Father in law!Javier Peña x afab!fem!reader

Summary: Your soon to be husband leaves you at the alter, but you should have guessed since the practice seemed to run in the family. It’s hard to be upset however, when his father comes to repent for not only his own but his son’s wrong doings. Aka fiancé’s dad Javi fucking you in your wedding dress after his son ditches you at the altar.

Warnings: 18+ only minors DNI you will be blocked. Minimal editing, unspecified but thicc and legal age gap, infidelity, daddy kink, heavy breeding kink, insane dirty talk, toxic father son relationship, reader is delulu, praise kink, petnames, sex in front of a mirror, veil pulling??, a few spanks, creampie, Javi fucks you into the mattress, unprotected P in V [don’t do it!!]. Let me know if I missed anything 🫶.

Word count: 2.6k

A/N: Literally just porn without plot, lotsa fucking, I want father in law Javi. Minimally edited lmao I just banged this out Can’t wait for you to read it!! Hope you enjoy, nasties! Mwah!

Masterlist

You rich and I'm wishin', um

You could be my mister, yum

Delicious to the maximum

Chew you up like bubble gum

You love me, he wants me

I think I want you too

Best day of your life- yeah, what a fucking joke. But what were you expecting? Ditching people at the altar seemed to run in the family. Okay, maybe that was a bit of a harsh assessment of the Peñas, especially Peña senior, who, despite all you had heard of him from your ex fiance, had always shown you kindness. 

The thing is, it becomes really fucking hard to be charitable to a family when their son humiliates you infront of the entirety of Texas. Leaves you high and dry on the steps of the biggest church in town in your great grandmother’s silk dress. It becomes even harder when you learn his mother had been in on it all along, sparing you not even a little apology, or a comforting embrace after her son's little getaway plan had been revealed. 

Instead of extending you a supporting hand, she ran away to make sure her baby boy was okay, and that this entire ordeal hadn’t taken a toll on his emotional and psychological well being. 

How thoughtful. 

Of course, you were the pathetic one– unable to look anyone in the eye, sobbing on your fathers shoulder till you couldn’t breathe any longer. So distraught and unwell even getting out of your wedding attire seemed impossible. It only made you feel even more pathetic. At some point you ended up curling up in your hotel bed, still in the “happiest day of your life” outfit, and pleading for some time alone from your friends and family to wallow in your own suffering. 

You would eat your feelings in the from of the apology chocolates the hotel had complimented for you, but you couldn’t manage to even do that without feeling like a total fucking looser. 

After all that had transpired, and after years of hearing nothing but sour things about your soon to be father in law, safe to say you were surprised to see him at your hotel room door at midnight as the ambassador the family seemingly sent to smooth things over. 

For it being only your second time meeting the man, this was far from the most opportune scenario. In fact, him showing up all sorrowful and apologetic for his shitty excuse of a son, in his navy blue suit and loose tie, made your already pathetic day all the more difficult to get through. 

Your whole relationship you had blamed every fault of your boyfriend on his absent, detached father. You’d heard plenty about the lack of childhood visits, quality time, and playing soccer that had plagued your partner’s life, and had found it quite easy and comforting to pile on every relationship problem you ever came across as the consequence of Javier Peña’s lack of responsibility and good parenting. 

What you didn’t expect, was to find that Javi Peña was a whole lot more normal and level headed than you anticipated. He was just a guy trying to make a good living and provide for his family. Sure, he was a little bit reserved, but he was only ever warm and sweet and even quite chatty with you. To be frank, you should have seen your boyfriend’s shitty behavior as a consequence of his insufferable mother from a mile away. God knew you weren’t expecting Peña Sr. to be the better of your two soon to be in laws. 

That being said, you would have never expected to be on your hands and knees, on what was supposed to be your marital bed, being pounded from behind by your ex soon to be father in-law. 

Because that's where you are now, eyes rolling to the back of your head thanks to the most intense pleasure you've ever felt. The drag of Javis cock against your walls has been building a steady heat in your belly, the stretch of him so perfect and delicious it has you pushing your hips back to meet his every thrust. 

Any other day a man like him wouldn’t have needed much to woo you– with his cut jaw, handsome features and those chocolate brown eyes you wished his son had inherited. Safe to say on a day like this one it took even less, just a few rubs on your back, a hand smoothing over your head and trailing down your waist, a few “pretty girls” and “poor things” and some fucking sympathy from someone from your boyfriends sorry family. 

Fucking pathetic. 

But Javier knows his son is pathetic, knows he is a good for nothing moron who doesn't even know what he was losing out on when he walked out on you.

“He’s a fuckin fool- look at this tight little pussy, squeezin’ me so fuckin good. Bet he didn’t fuck ya like this, huh baby? Didn’t make ya cum over and over, make ya scream… stupid fuckin boy..” Javier’s grip on your hips tightens on hearing your moan, and he curses under his breath when your pussy flutters around his cock. 

Your legs are threatening to give out under you, your knees tender from how long you've been leaning on them. Javier’s hand moves to grip the fabric of your veil, using it to pull your head back and make you face the mirror that's been teasing you all evening. “Look- Look at ya- fuckin cryin’ on my cock. ‘S the only reason ya’ shoulda’ be cryin’ in this pretty dress..” With drooping eyes you're faced with your own reflection– stains from your mascara running down your face now less thanks to the sorry of the afternoon and more thanks to the way Javi’s cock has been nudging your sweetspot. 

You watch your tits spill out of your beautiful silk dress, the fabric now disheveled and a far cry from the sophisticated, simplistic garment it once was. You can barely recognise it, but then again you can barely recognise your own reflection. “Look at that pretty little body- fuckin made for me.” 

“Yours-” you cut yourself off with a gasp, Javi’s hands squeeze your hips and your cheeks set ablaze at the way he looks at you when you catch it in the mirror. The whole sight is so debauched and depraved– you on your hands and knees for a man who could easily be mistaken for your father. But somehow it's even dirtier- the possibility of your ex finding out sends you into overdrive. 

The silk of your dress brushes against your hot skin, flipped lewdly up to reveal your bare ass, bunched at the waist, the straps drooping and threatening to fall. Javi pulls the zip down even further, watching as it hangs off your body, draped like fabric from a 15th century painting. 

Javi’s voice calls your attention back to the present moment, lewd words showing you he doesn't hold back the way his son does. “Gonna fill this tight little cunt up..” The stretch is so delicious between your legs, you feel the steady throb continue to tighten the coil inside you and you can’t help but moan. “Yeah, you want that? Want daddy to put a baby in you?” the thought makes you shiver, that name makes you shiver, has your cunt clenching around his cock. What an image- you, belly round with your father in laws child, well, your ex father in law. Unlike his son you were sure he would be the perfect husband, would bend you over ever surface in your picket fence house and fuck you just like he’s doing now. 

Deep, and hard and fast, just like you need it. Just like you've always needed it.. 

“Please daddy, want your babies, wanna be yours…” Your voice is so broken and wrecked you're afraid he can’t understand what you're even saying. To be honest you can’t be bothered much, it feels so good, his thick, hard cock feels so good pounding between your thighs there's little else you can keep your mind on. 

“Yeah? you like that sweetheart? we can play house..” you nod your head and his hand tightens its grip around your veil, exaggerating your movements, bending you to his will. “Wanna play house with daddy? can be my pretty little wife” you fist the sheets, pushing back against him with his every thrust. You do want that, you’ve always wanted that. And what better person to do it with. Sure, his wife always complained about how he was never around, but that's looking a lot more like a her problem– especially with the way Javi’s tip continues to kiss your sweet spot. 

“Yes daddy, please..”  

Javier lets go of your veil, and pushes his palm between your shoulder blades, forcing you down into the mattress till your cheek is pressed against the warm, fluffy duvet. One hand keeps you there, the other lands a quick spank to your ass and kneads at the flesh with a newfound desperation. “Won't be able to even say his goddamn name after I'm done with ya. Stupid boy doesnt know how to treat a pretty thing like you– so sweet, so gorgeous, so fucking smart. Too fucking good for him.” 

With your lips parted and breathing heavy you drool onto the covers, letting Javi pound you into the mattress and overshadow every other thought that dared cross your head earlier in the day. If his plan is to make you forget about anything that isn't him, it sure is working. You don't think you’d even want to sound out his incompetent son’s name after he’s done with you. 

As if he can read your mind his voice calls from behind you. “Want ya to be drippin with me.” the wet schick of his cock fucking into your tight, wet, hole reminds you of just how needy you are for him, and the prospect of having him dripping out of you– down your thighs, between your legs, leaving you all messy for him to come back and do it all over again, drives you absolutely insane. 

“He’s fuckin useless, just like his ma. But look at you, so fucking tight ‘round me, making all those pretty sounds, she fuckin’ wishes she was you.” His words have your cunt squeezing around his cock, and a lewd, pornographic moan slipping past your lips. “My girl’s gonna be the perfect lil’ mamma, aren’t ya, so fuckin’ pretty.” You would certainly like that- in fact you’re almost surprised with how appealing it sounds to you. 

“Gonna be perfect for you daddy, only for you.” your dress rides up even further, the front slipping further down. 

“Thats my fucking girl.” That growl of his sends shivers down your spine– possessive, and confident and dripping like honey from his lips. It was almost like it could send you over the edge by itself. The lewd creaking of the bedframe fills the room, the sound of skin on skin driving you wild. The way he handles you– firm and deft but gentle and passionate, it's nothing like his son. 

He’s nothing like his son. 

“Yeah, bet it feels good don’t it, bein’ fucked by a real man? Feel daddy so deep in ya? Nothin ever been that deep before, huh..” You shake your head ‘no’ and he coos at how pathetic you must sound, barely able to make a coherent sound, forget string together a whole sentence. 

“Make me go fuckin’ crazy, babygirl.” 

What he says is fucking filthy, there’s no denying, no justifying it. It makes you squirm, makes you even wetter, makes you want him even more. 

“Think you wanna go back to him? With daddy’s cum drippin between those pretty thighs, show him how a real man treats his girl?” 

“Gonna make ya beg him to stay, gonna talk some sense into him, just so daddy can have ya all to himself, ain't that right? You gonna sneak into daddy’s room in the middle of the night? All wet an’ achy? Beggin’ daddy to fuck ya how ya need?” 

“Wanna run away with me baby, live in a perfect little house, let daddy give ya his babies, fuck ya full’ve my cum every single night?” 

His hands roam your body, smoothing over your hips, reaching forward to squeeze at your breasts, pinching and kneading the flesh. He bends down to trail light kisses along your spine and the feeling is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Your head twists side to side against the sheets as you squirm, each sensation like it's heightened to the maximum, the heaviness and the throb between your thighs at an all time high. 

You know you're close, you can’t hold it off much longer. Your cunt squeezes and your toes curl. You also know Javi won't last, you can feel him pulse against your swollen walls, can feel the way he desperately thrusts into you, pushes you further down against the mattress, grips your skin with that renewed fervor, with the desperation of doing anything to hold on to the incredible sensation. 

“Come for me, babygirl, come for daddy, show daddy how much ya needed this, show daddy how bad ya need his cock.” 

Your legs part even further under you, if that's even physically possible, your entire upper body being smashed into the mattress. You call out Javi’s name, followed by a string of desperate, strained, whiny daddy daddy daddy’s. 

With a strangled moan that's partially muffled by the covers you come undone, your head spins and your heart pounds in your chest, you feel yourself gush and clamp down around his cock. You feel Javi’s hips stutter behind you and his cock throb against your wet walls. The feeling only prologues and intensifies your orgasm, your body going slack and eyes rolling back into your head. 

“Please daddy, need your cum, please, give it to me..” 

Javi’s groans catch your attention as you come down from your high, still reeling from the aftershocks when you feel his cock twitch inside you and paint your walls with his hot spend. Your words are strained and slurred, but they clearly get the job done. You shiver and press your ass back against him to meet his stuttery, sloppy thrusts, and bite your lip when you feel him tighten his grip on your hip, feel him land a final spank to your ass for good measure as he slows down. 

You keep your ass in the air, face still pressed against the mattress as Javi pulls out. You hear him mutter a few strained curses under his breath as he does, and catch him looking between your legs to see his spend obscenely leak out of your used hole. He reaches his fingers to rub against your messy folds and you whine, feel him gather up your juices and push them back inside your cunt in a way that has you almost cumming right there again. 

Your dress is still pooled at your waist and he unzips it entirely, sneaking his hands under your thighs and flipping you over and yanking you towards him. 

“You really want daddy’s babies?” Your head falls back against the bed when you feel his hand cup your cunt, rub your messy, swollen folds with the calloused tips of his fingers. You barely manage to nod. 

“Then I ain’t done with ya yet pretty girl.” You tilt your chin to catch his gaze, now in nothing but your stupid little wedding veil. You’re not sure about the best day of your life, but this sure as hell contends for one of the best nights. 

You can be my daddy tonight-night-night

I'm neon phosphorescent

Open like a Christmas present, oh

You can be my daddy tonight-night-night

If you're seeking heaven

Then you wanna come and get it alright

Be my daddy tonight

What's up what's up

What's up what's up

Be my daddy be my daddy

Be my daddy be my, be my daddy tonight

AHHHHH feel like I’m going to hell for this one. Thanks so much for reading!! Please please please let me know what you think. I’d love to know your thoughts!!! Thank you to everyone who engages with my work, you keep me writing!! 💗🐝

[tokkiwrites]

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐃𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After breaking up with your boyfriend of four years, you’re left heartbroken and desperate to leave it all behind. But as fate would have it, just as you’re about to walk out the door of his house, you run into his fatherㅡ the man who’s always lingered at the edges of your mind. the next sensible thing to do is fuck him.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: pwp, bf's dad joel miller x f! reader, short description of toxic rs, fight scene, afab reader, i dont know if this is categorized as cheating :p , age gap, fingering f receiving, joel has a huge one but we alr know!, dirty talk, pet names, p in v unprotected, creampie, slight slapping and hairpulling.

✿ 🪽 𓈒 ﹫𝐭𝐨𝐤𝐤𝐢𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 ..＼ ♰ i have been neglecting you cute freaks, but i am here to feed you. behold! boyfriend's dad joel miller smut! around 2.6k words, so it's pretty short, but i hope you love it. not proofread!!!!! okay baiiii 😎🫶🏻

The fight tears through the house like a hurricane, each word leaving wounds too deep. "You never listen to me!" you yell, your voice raw and trembling. Your chest aches, your throat burns, but the word vomit won’t stop pouring out. "Four years, and it’s like I’m shouting into a void! Do you even care about us?"

"Do you even fucking hear yourself?" he fires back, pacing the room like he can’t bear to stand still. "God, all you do is pick fights! You always need something to be wrong. What the actual fuck?"

"Because something is wrong!" Your voice cracks, and the tears come faster now, hot and humiliating. You hate how small you feel, how desperately you want him to care. "I’ve been fighting for this, for you, and all you do is act like it’s a burden!" He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "Maybe it is. Maybe you are." The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your breath catches, and for a moment, the room feels impossibly still. You don’t want to cry anymore, but the tears fall anyway, blurring your vision as you step back. "Fine," you whisper, your voice trembling. "If that’s how you feel, then we’re done. I’m done." He freezes, his expression shifting to something almost regretful— but not enough to stop him. "Fuck this." He grabs his keys from the counter and storms out without another word. The door slams behind him, the sound echoing in the quiet house.

For a moment, you just stand there, arms wrapped tightly around yourself as you try to hold in the sobs threatening to break free. The silence feels suffocating, pressing in on you from every angle. You can’t stay here. You need to leave.

You grab your bag and wipe your face as best you can, hands still shaking. You tell yourself you’re fine, that the fresh air will help. But as you turn the corner into the foyer, you collide with something solid— someone solid. "Whoa there," a low voice drawls, steadying you with hands firm and sure. Your heart stutters as you look up and see Joel, your now ex-boyfriend's father.

Your breath catches in your throat. His hand is on your arm, warm and grounding, as his dark eyes search your face. His presence is like a balm, so different from the storm you just walked out of. He’s all quiet strength and rugged edges, his salt-and-pepper beard only making him look more like someone carved out of the earth itself. "Hey, sweet girl," he says, his tone warm and laced with that familiar twang. "What’s got you all worked up? You alright?" The sound of his voice is enough to break you all over again. You shake your head, the tears spilling over despite your best efforts to hold them back. You try to answer, but your words falter. All you can do is nod, though you know you’re far from alright. Not when his thumb is brushing lightly over your flesh, not when his scent— warm, woodsy, familiar— makes your knees fall weak. You can’t look at him, can’t look at the steadiness in his eyes or the way his hands ground you when you feel like you’re falling apart.

"Hey now," he says softly, pulling you into a hug before you can protest. His arms wrap around you, strong and safe, and for the first time all night, you don’t feel like you’re about to shatter. "C’mere, sweet thing. You gotta talk to me, mkay? What happened?" You press your face into his chest, breathing in hus smell that makes you feel like you’re home, even though you know you shouldn’t.

It’s absurd, really. You’ve always known he was handsome, but standing this close, it hits you differently. You’ve always noticed him in ways you shouldn’t, caught yourself glancing too long, wondering too much. And now, with tears still wet on your cheeks and your heart in pieces, he feels like the only steady thing left in the world.

"It’s over," you mumble against his shirt, your voice muffled but thick with emotion. "I broke it off with him. For r-real this time..." Joel pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands settling on your shoulders as his brow furrows. "You and him?" he asks gently, but you could tell he wasn't quite sure in your answer. "You sure ‘bout that?"

"Y-yeah..." You nod, your throat tight. "So you don’t have to... act nice anymore. You don’t have to pretend like you like m-me or care or whatever. It’s done now..." His expression shifts, confusion flickering across his face before something warmer takes its place. His lips part slightly as if he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing.

"Sweetheart," he says, his voice dipping lower, softer, like a secret meant just for you. "What the hell gave you the idea I don’t like you?" You blink up at him, stunned. "I just—"

"Little lady," he interrupts, leaning closer, his voice growing rougher, "it’s damn near impossible not to like you." Your breath catches as his thumb brushes over your cheek, his stare unflinching, as he examines your tear-stained face. There’s something in his eyes you’ve never noticed before—something unguarded, like he’s been holding it back for years. "Sweet thing like you," he murmurs, his lips quirking into the smallest of smiles. "Anyone with half a brain’d like you. But me? Hell, darlin’. I’ve liked you since the day I met you."

You step back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze fully, searching his face for any hint of pity, of kindness given out of obligation. "You don’t need to lie to me," you say, voice trembling. It feels like your heart is spilling out of you, breaking open right here in front of him. "Not just to make me feel better..."

Joel’s brow furrows, his dark eyes softening, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. A thread holds stretched taut between you. He doesn’t drop his hands from your shoulders, doesn’t let you pull away any further. Instead, he tilts his head slightly, studying you like you’re the most important thing in the world right now, like he’s trying to figure out how to put the pieces of you back together.

"What reason would I have to lie to ya now that you ain't with my sorry ass boy?" His voice is low, almost a whisper, but it carries a shiver down your whole body. You swallow hard, shaking your head. "I don’t know. I just—" You stumble over your own tongue.

Joel exhales slowly, his lips pressing into a thin line as his eyes bore into yours. simmering, waiting to swallow you whole. "Darlin’," he murmurs, "Let me show you then." Before you can even think, he leans in.

The world falls away the moment his lips meet yours. It’s soft at first, hesitant, like he’s giving you a chance to stop him if this isn’t what you want. But when you don’t pull away and when you melt into him instead, your fingers clutching at his shirt, he deepens the kiss, large hands sliding from your shoulders to your waist, pulling you closer.

His lips are warm and sure, washing away any heartbreak you might've felt.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests gently against yours, his breaths mingling with your own. "Am I lyin'?" Your chest tightens, the tears welling up again, but this time they’re different. They’re not the tears of heartbreak—you’re not even sure what they are, only that they feel a little like hope.

"Mister Miller," you breathe, his name dancing on your puffy lips. He smiles, soft and a little sad, brushing a thumb along your cheek. "I got you, sweet girl. You just let me." and you crumble completely. with no hesitation, he picks you up, taking you to the nearest bedroom, where he closes the door behind.

it felt wrong. it was wrong. but the way he looked looming over, you got your head spinning in all the right ways. the bed pooled under you, sheets rustling as you watched joel discard part of his clothes. you nip at your lower lip, scooting your body upward to remove the pants you had on. in mere seconds, both of you are naked, gasping, and holding onto each other like nothing else mattered.

You finally get to see joel fully naked and you can't quite understand how a man his age looks the way he does, and how he's still single, given the package he's been blessed with. "you can stop starin' now. you wanna get me shy?" joel teases, his shaft now on full view for you to gawk at. you're taken by surprise when he so easily pulls you down towards him.

he trailed kisses down your chest like flowers fall from cherry trees in the spring, your body reacting in ways you didn’t know were possible. "Please hurry..." and he chuckles, maybe proud maybe amused to see you this desperate. "'m sorry, darlin'" You purr under his touch, wrapping around him like he's a lifeline. his lips crash against yours again, rough palm slipping into your wet panties. you gasp, the feeling so strange yet so familiar. he lets go of your lips, thick fingers working their way inside of you. Joels eyes meet yours, and he curls his digits, speed picking up. the sounds youㅡ your pussy made, were pure music to him, constant encouragement to go harder, faster, loving the way you looked crumbling onto his fingers. "got such a pretty pussy. Sure you ok with an old man ruin it for anyone else?" he asked it as if it was the least absurd thing he could say right now. you nod your head profusely. "atta girl. knew you were the obedient kind first time I saw ya."

"You gonna come?" Almost mocking you, but you could bot form the proper words. You just looked deep into his glinting eyes as your hand made its way to his hardened crotch. "P-pleasee..." Joel almost loses himself, but he's steady with his movements. "Wanna come on my cock, hm? is that what you beggin' for?" your folds drip and clench around him deliciously, you don't want it to end. and when you're almost there... he stops. you whine in protest but you're quickly put back in your place with a firm tug at your hair. "You take what I give you, girl. Now ass up." you comply. in a second, your back is facing him, red cheeks now hidden into his pillow. you try to balance yourself up with one arm, but he grabs you by the wrist.

"Spread 'em." And you do just that, pulling at your flesh. like an auction. only it's you presenting your cunt for fucking. "Fuck, look at that..." he tuts, gathering some of your juices on his pulsing tip, dragging it up and down your puffy lips. "Pretty girl. She cryin' for me, baby?" a string of fain 'yesyesyes' reaches his ear. hes quiet for a bit but the moment he pushes the tip inside you feel your knees buckle, all the strength you had left into your arms fluttering away. you fall face first into the mattres under you as joel pushes down your lower back. it hurts, but the pain is delicious. your moans feel the room, the occasional slap to your ass interrupting them. Joel is strong, fast and brutal, leaving you no room to breathe, fucking so deep into you you're sure he's way past your bellybutton. "T-takin' it so well, pretty girl, so well.." your skin burns where joel touched it, whole head fuzzy and empty. "pleasepleaseplease" as the whole bed shakes and strums to his movements.

your back arches as waves of pleasure break over your body like water on a shore. your head was spinning, heart pounding, as his whole weight dominated over you. "That's it, baby, take it." his thrusts are rough, each hit making your body bounce, the urgency as he hit that very spot each timeㅡ your whole insides burning, too cock drunk to talk or respond, other than some pathetic whines that perfectly accompanied the wet sounds your pussy made. "been dreamin' about havin' you like this, baby. look at herㅡ" joel throws his head back, delivering a harsh thrust, the pain quickly melding into pleasure. "gonna come, hm?" he's stern and rough with his request. "hhhaㅡ y-yes, plea-se..." You don't know if you're crying because it feels too good or because of how long you've waited for this, no matter how unforgiving this could be.

eyes shot open when he roughly yanks your hair, your skin slapping on his being to only sound you can faintly make out in your dazed state. you let your whole body go, tongue lulled out as he takes out on you anything he might've been feeling. you were at his mercy, your moans irrefutable. your stomach flips and churns as that familiar feeling pools again in your lower tummy, and you were chasing it, crying. from what, you didn't quite know. maybe because you've never been fucked this good or maybe because it'll be over too soon.

the room was stuffy. "o-oh myㅡ god!" You yelp when joels speed picks up, shocked that he can go that fast, considering you've heard him multiple times complaining about his bad back. "shitㅡ i gotta come, baby. you gonna let me do it in ya? huh?" You nod your head so, squeezing around him like a ring, and he rewards you with a slap to your ass. "fuckin' slut." he laughs through breathy moans. you're holding on for dear life, reaching for anything your fingers can grasp at this moment. you're sure the neighbors are having a blast seeing the whole house shake. "that's it, girl. take itㅡ c'mon..." with a few more pumps his hips come to a halt, whole body trembling as he comes ropes inside of you. you let go, bliss washing over you, the ringing in your ears covering the soft curses escaping Joel's lips. steadying himself, he pulls out, voice cracking as he speaks again. "fuuck... baby, look at her." he smiles crooked, watching intently as his come drips out of you, cascading down to your thighs. you lick your lips, looking back and right up at him whilst spreading your legs wider.

"Don't do that. think I don't have it in me to fuck you again?"

you tease, "i don't know. do you?" and he laughs, pushing inside of you again, watching as your face contorts in pleasure. "Careful, girl."

you wonder when your boyfriendㅡ i mean exㅡ will come back home.

[notjustjavierpena]

Ok so someone said Pedro is so husband in Gladiator 2 and I was wondering if you would possibly do a Marcus and pregnant!wife fic?! Please 🤍

Restless

Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: This was so fun to write and I hope you like it! Just fyi, this is not a part of my series Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia.

Summary: Being heavily pregnant makes it hard to sleep.

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: Pregnant reader, kisses, a general devoted to his wife

Word count: 1k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60543115

Restless

Since entering the final stages of carrying your child, nights in bed have been restless. You lay awake most of the time, drifting off on your side only to wake up not long after with a foot pressing against your ribs. It is a strange paradox how something so unpleasant can offer you comfort at the same time, serving as a reminder that your baby is healthy and strong. You’ll take watching the sunrise each morning if it means knowing that they are well, even if it means exhaustion from the lack of rest. 

Tonight is no different. You are yet again caught in the realm of the awake, carefully turning over from side to side as you beg God Somnus to show you mercy and grant you some sleep. However, just as your eyes start to flutter closed, you are startled awake by another swift kick to your insides. 

“You are as restless as your father,” you speak quietly and with affection to the life within your belly, pressing your hand over the spot. You glance at Marcus as you say it, already aware of how he is stirring from his slumber because the littlest of things can rouse him. After all, he is a light sleeper, old habits making him as vigilant in bed with you as he is on the battlefield. 

“Another night on slumber’s battlefield?” Marcus asks while sleep still clings to him. His voice is rough, rumbling through his chest as he speaks. 

You nod with a sigh, reaching for your husband’s hand to guide it to rest on your belly. His voice joining yours has woken up the baby even more, and they seem even more enthusiastic in announcing their presence to their parents, “It seems like your child is preparing for a campaign of their own. Feel.”

“My child?” He asks with a fond smile, another jab at his palm making him gently trace patterns across your belly. 

“During nights like these, they’re your child,” you tease lightheartedly and earn a gentle smile, a twinkle in his eyes. 

“I suppose that’s fair,” he chuckles quietly but it is interrupted by another spirited kick. He sucks in a breath, talking quietly as if mostly to himself, “Every time I do this… I still can’t believe—“

“Neither can I,” you say dreamily and rest your own hand on top of his. You guide his palm over the curve of your swollen belly, “But they’re really in there. Feel this. Here’s their back and this… this must be the foot that’s keeping me from sleeping.”

Marcus’ calloused palm is warm as it skims across your stomach, feeling its way around to picture the growing bundle inside of you. His eyes are filled with uninhibited wonder, a joy that seems to be more frequent on his face after Goddess Juno granted you this blessing so soon after your union. He shifts on the bed to bend down and kiss where he has just felt a particularly enthusiastic kick. 

“Listen to me, little one,” he murmurs softly against your skin, “Your beautiful mother is doing all the work bringing you into the world and into my arms. The least you could do is grant her some rest.”

“I don’t think it’s going to happen. I think they’ve inherited some of your rebellion,” you begin but Marcus looks at your face with feigned outrage. He crawls up to hover over you. 

“Their rebellious spirit is directly from you,” he argues with a charming smile, palms flat against the bed on either side of you. In return, you reach up to cup his face and drag him down for a sweet kiss. He smells like olive oil and metal from his armor, proof of him being in the sun all day during today’s training session. He should be exhausted but he kisses you like he isn’t. 

“Then you should know how to tame them just like you tamed me, General,” you bite back with a mischievous expression, a high-pitched giggle interrupting your attempt at an attitude because Marcus maneuvers you onto your side again, this time facing away from him. He crawls up behind you, scooping his arm underneath you so he can cradle your full belly with both hands. 

“Close your eyes,” he tells you, splaying his hands on you until the warmth of his touch starts to calm everything in your body and mind, “Focus on your breathing. In and out. Slowly like the tide.”

You can feel the gentle change in the room, both Marcus and the baby falling into sync with you as sleep comes knocking for all three of you. He talks in a quiet whisper even on the verge of slumber, his chest rising and falling against your back while your belly mirrors it, “That’s it. You’re safe, my love. My heart, my strength, my guiding light.”

“Tell me about our baby,” you murmur softly, eyelids growing heavy until you capitulate and close them. 

“Our baby,” he begins, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, “Will be as beautiful as their mother. When they laugh it’ll be with your laugh, and when they smile, everyone will think of you in an instant. Perhaps, they will be granted the courage of Mars. Or perhaps the wisdom of Minerva, a real strategist.”

His hands continue their slow and gentle pattern over your stomach, lulling you even closer to the edge of sleep. You relax further into his embrace, letting his words wash over you as he continues, “And as for me, I hope they will inherit my heart. I hope to pass on my sense of duty and purpose. They’ll be honorable, stand firm, and protect the ones they love.”

“Marcus,” you say without knowing why. 

“They will be loved,” he adds as if it is the most true of all, his forehead resting against the back of your head, “Loved beyond comparison, beyond comprehension. By us and even the Gods themselves, and they will never doubt this. They will find it to be as certain as Sol and Nox ensuring each day and night.” 

“I like that,” you smile sleepily, barely awake anymore. 

“Me too,” you hear him say just before sleep finally claims you, his voice a calming echo that tells you he’s telling the truth.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[promisingyounglady]

accident. | JP x Reader

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Wife!Reader

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

WC: 3.6k

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

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

A headache ensues in Javier’s mind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fucking hell.”

_

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

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

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

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

Javier was supposed to pick you up too.

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

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

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

What a fucking liar, you thought to yourself.

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

Thwack.

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

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

Thwack. You moved onto the chicken meat.

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

Thwack. Thwack.

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

“Qué te ha hecho ese pobre pollo”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mi-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The words pierce through Javier’s heart.

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

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

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

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

“Go fuck yourself, Peña” you say menacingly.

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

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

Maybe he could whip out the handcuffs.

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

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

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

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

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

Now it was your turn to fuck things up.

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

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

You gasp, hands flying to cover your mouth.

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

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

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

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

That wasn’t what scared you.

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

“Javi, I’ll go get the-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Answer me, mama”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Javier” you repeated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.” He says back gruffly.

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

“Merida”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[joelsrose]

Crybaby

fluff drabble 🥺

It had been months of you going back and forth about getting bangs. Nothing too dramatic—just soft, wispy ones to frame your face. Joel, ever supportive, would pull you into his chest and brush your hair back, smiling. "I'd love you with no hair, baby," he’d say, his voice low and warm as you lay together in bed. The way he said it always made you feel like the most beautiful person in the world.

But today was the day. You were finally sitting in the hairdresser’s chair, heart pounding as the scissors snipped away. The first strands fell, and your stomach flipped. By the end, as you stared at your reflection, you couldn’t hide the rising panic. Shit. Shit. Shit. The bangs didn’t look anything like what you imagined. The hairdresser beamed, waiting for your approval, and you forced a smile so tight your cheeks hurt. "I love it," you lied, because what else could you do? Wish your hair back into place?

Walking home, your sniffles turned into full-blown hiccups as you fought back tears. Why did I do this? By the time you reached the front door, your head was spinning. You shoved it open, dropping your keys on the table without bothering to call out.

"Hey, baby," Joel’s voice rumbled from somewhere—maybe the living room or the kitchen. You didn’t stop to see. Instead, you bolted upstairs, your steps heavy on the wooden stairs.

Joel frowned, setting down whatever he was holding. "The hell?" he muttered under his breath, his brows knitting together. You never came home without greeting him.

With a groan, he pushed himself up, his boots clunking against the floor as he followed. "Baby?" he called out, his voice softening. He checked the bedroom, but it was empty. His eyes flicked to the slightly ajar bathroom door, and he knocked lightly. "You in here?"

"No," you replied, your voice muffled and miserable.

He chuckled, the sound warm and teasing, like he already knew you were being dramatic but didn’t mind one bit. “What’re you doin’, silly girl? Tryin’ to hide from me?”

"Joel, go away," you called back, your voice shaky with unshed tears.

Joel stayed right where he was, leaning against the doorframe, the wood creaking under his weight. "Not comin’ in, don’t worry. Just wanna talk to my girl." His voice softened, rich with concern. "What’s wrong, angel? C’mon, you know you can talk to me."

"I look ugly," you sniffled, voice small and wavering.

A pause. Then, firm and sure, "Not possible." He exhaled like he couldn’t believe you’d even think that. "C’mon, baby, what happened?"

You swallowed hard, your throat tight. "I got my haircut," you finally admitted, the words tumbling out with a shaky sob. "She—she fucked up my bangs."

Joel’s breath hitched, and you could almost hear the frown tugging at his lips. "Oh, sweetheart," he cooed, his voice dripping with tenderness. "Can I see? Please?"

"You won’t like it," you whimpered.

"Darlin’," he said, his tone low and soft, "there’s not a damn thing on this earth that could make me not like lookin’ at you. Open the door for me, baby."

"You have to promise not to laugh," you said, your voice wavering behind the closed bathroom door.

Joel’s voice was steady, warm, and laced with sincerity. "Cross my heart, darlin'. Not a single laugh, I swear."

There was a pause, and then, with a huff, you muttered, "Fine."

The door creaked open, and Joel stepped inside slowly, his movements careful and deliberate, like coaxing a scared puppy. His boots clicked softly against the tiles, and his heart twisted when he saw you—facing away, your hands buried in your face, shoulders trembling just a little.

Joel sat on the edge of the bathtub, his knees brushing against yours. "You gonna face me, pretty girl?" he asked softly, his tone coaxing, like he was talking to something fragile.

You shook your head, your messy hair swaying as you kept your face hidden. "Making this real hard for me," he chuckled, the sound soft, reassuring.

"Joel," you groaned, dragging out his name like a warning, but there was no bite in it, just pure frustration with yourself.

"C’mon, baby," he murmured, his hands reaching for you, warm and steady as they wrapped gently around your forearm. Slowly, he guided you to stand between his legs, "Let me see that pretty face, hmm?"

You hesitated, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. His hands, rough and familiar, slid down to rest on your hips, grounding you. His thumbs rubbed soft circles into your sides, and you couldn’t help but relax, even just a little.

"Slowly now," he whispered, his voice low and sweet, the kind of tone that made your heart flutter no matter how upset you were.

With a shaky exhale, you let your arms drop to your sides, revealing your tear-streaked face and the bangs you’d already convinced yourself were a disaster. Your eyes stayed glued to the floor, bracing for Joel’s reaction, your heart pounding so hard it echoed in your ears.

"Holy shit, honey," Joel drawled, his voice low and soft, but there was something in his tone that made you glance up, even through your nerves.

Your brows furrowed. "What?" you whispered, half-expecting him to laugh.

Joel leaned back slightly, his eyes warm and full of something you couldn’t quite place. He let out a slow whistle, shaking his head in disbelief. "Didn’t know it was possible for my girl to get even prettier."

Your lip quivered as you tried to hold back another wave of tears. "You’re lying," you said weakly, your arms crossing defensively over your chest. "I look ridiculous."

Joel tsked, already reaching for you. His hands found your waist, strong and steady, and before you could protest, he was pulling you into his lap. His broad hands spanned your back, pressing you close as if he could hold your insecurities at bay just by touching you.

"Ridiculously cute," he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. His hand came up to gently tuck your hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering as they traced along the curve of your cheek. "You look like a damn fairy, baby. All delicate and perfect."

You buried your face in his chest, shaking your head as your cheeks flushed. "I don’t," you mumbled, your voice muffled by the soft fabric of his shirt.

Joel’s hand slid up to cradle the back of your head, his thumb stroking small, soothing circles against your scalp. "You do," he insisted, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You’re sittin’ here in my lap, all pretty and pouty, and I don’t think I’ve ever been more in love with you than I am right now."

"Stop," you huffed, your voice half a laugh, half a groan, but Joel just grinned.

"Not a chance," he said, tipping your chin up so he could see your face. His eyes softened as they traced over your features, lingering on your bangs. "These little things?" he teased gently, brushing them aside. "I love ‘em. Make you look sweet. Like you walked straight outta one of those fairytale books Ellie’s always talkin’ about."

You sniffled, the corners of your lips twitching as you fought the urge to smile. "You’re just saying that."

Joel’s brows lifted, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "Baby," he said, his voice dropping to a soft rumble, "when have you ever known me to just say somethin’ I didn’t mean? You’re my girl. My beautiful, stubborn, perfect girl. And I’ll keep tellin’ you until you believe me."

Butterflies erupted in your chest, fluttering so wildly you thought you might float away. Joel didn’t stop there, though. He pulled you even closer, his nose brushing against yours as he pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your lips, one that left no room for doubt about just how much he adored you.

When he pulled back, his grin was softer now, but no less sure. "Now, how about we grab some dinner, and you let me keep braggin’ about how lucky I am to have you?" His fingers slid up to play with the ends of your bangs, his smirk returning. "Gonna have a real hard time keepin’ my hands off you, though. Fair warning."

You laughed, finally letting yourself melt into him, the last of your doubts fading under the weight of his love. "You’re obsessed with me," you teased, though your voice was soft and warm.

Joel chuckled, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "Damn right, I am. Always will be."

[theetherealbloom]

You Got Me So In Love, I've Never Been This Possessive

Summary: While on a scenic boat trip along the coasts of Malta, you bask in the crystal-clear waters, and laughter with Pedro’s cast and crew. Despite his injured arm keeping him on the boat, Pedro can’t keep his eyes off you.

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Established Relationship, TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Slight Nudity, Slight Angst, Swearing, Anxiety, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Swimming, Bikini, Flirting, Teasing, Cast, Pedro Fell Down The Stairs, ER visit, Hurt-To-Comfort, Mild Spice, Banter, Idk Spanish so the terms might be wrong but I'm trying my best

Word Count: 5K

A/N: GOOD MORNING CHICKENS!!! Y’know how I said there would be a part two? Yup. Also, I know no one asked, but back in High School, I fell down the stairs… A LOT. Like every year for six years. No major bones were broken, only a sprained ankle every time I fell down the stairs, so in a way I guess I was lucky. PSA to always hold the hand railing, and like Pedro said, it can happen to anyone!

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: Te Quiero by KISS OF LIFE

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PASCAL RESIDENCE, CHILE — AFTERNOON  

The sun bathed the Pascal family home in a golden glow, the air filled with the scent of freshly baked empanadas and the gentle hum of conversation. You were seated on the patio, your legs tucked under you, watching as Pedro animatedly retold a story from his teenage years. His siblings—Javiera, Lux, and Nicolás—listened with rapt attention, their laughter bubbling over when Pedro’s dad chimed in with his version of events, insisting Pedro had exaggerated again.  

“Exaggerated?” Pedro placed a hand on his chest, feigning offense. “I would never! Everything I say is 100% true and scientifically proven.”  

“Scientifically proven to be full of nonsense,” Nicolás teased, earning a round of laughter.  

You couldn’t help but grin, soaking in the easy camaraderie of the family. Pedro’s hand found yours under the table, his fingers lacing with yours in a way that felt like second nature. He glanced at you, his dark eyes soft with a love so deep it made your chest tighten.  

“Tell them,” Pedro said, turning to you with an exaggeratedly serious expression. “Tell them I’m not lying.”  

You bit back a laugh, tilting your head in mock consideration. “Well… the story did sound a bit too good to be true.”  

“Et tu, mi amor?” he groaned, but the corners of his mouth quirked up in a smile.  

Javiera, ever the ringleader, stood and declared, “Enough storytelling! Let’s put her to the test. If she’s going to be part of this family, she needs to learn brisca.”  

Pedro leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Fair warning: They’ll gang up on you.”  

“Good thing I’ve got you on my side,” you murmured, a soft blush rising to your cheeks.  

“I’ll always be on your side,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple that sent a shiver down your spine.  

A FEW HOURS LATER…  

The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the yard. Pedro had wandered inside to grab more drinks for everyone while you stayed on the patio with Lux, discussing her latest project.  

The sound of a crash shattered the peaceful air. You froze, the glass in Lux’s hand slipping and shattering on the ground.  

“Pedro!” you gasped, bolting toward the house.  

Inside, you found him crumpled at the base of the stairs, his face pale and contorted in pain. Nicolás was already at his side, his hands hovering uncertainly as if afraid to make things worse.  

“Call an ambulance!” you shouted, your voice shaking as you knelt beside Pedro.  

He looked up at you, his breaths shallow and uneven. “I’m okay, I’m okay,” he said through gritted teeth, but his wince betrayed him.  

“You’re not okay,” you said, your hands trembling as you gently brushed the hair from his forehead. “What happened?”  

“I missed the last step,” he muttered, trying to manage a weak smile. “Guess I’m not as graceful as I thought.”  

“Pedro, this isn’t funny,” you whispered, tears pricking your eyes.  

Javiera appeared with the phone pressed to her ear, speaking rapidly to the emergency dispatcher. Lux crouched beside you, her face pale as she reached for Pedro’s uninjured hand.  

“Help’s on the way,” Javiera assured you, her voice steady despite the panic in her eyes.  

Minutes felt like hours as you waited for the ambulance. You kept your focus on Pedro, your hand gripping his tightly. “Just breathe, okay? I’m right here. You’re going to be fine.”  

THE ER — EVENING

The antiseptic smell of the hospital hit you as you paced the waiting room, your heart pounding in your chest. Pedro had been whisked away for X-rays, and you felt helpless, the absence of his hand in yours leaving you cold.  

When the doctor finally emerged, you rushed to meet him, Javiera and Nicolás close behind.  

“Mr. Pascal has a broken arm,” the doctor explained. “It’s a clean break, but he’ll need surgery to set the bone properly. We’re scheduling it for late January.”  

Relief and worry collided in your chest. “Can I see him?” you asked, your voice small.  

The doctor nodded, and you followed the nurse to Pedro’s room. He was sitting up in bed, his arm in a temporary sling, his face pale but his smile still intact.  

“Hey, troublemaker,” he said, his voice softer than usual.  

You crossed the room in a few quick steps, perching on the edge of his bed. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” you said, your voice breaking as tears spilled over.  

Pedro reached for your hand with his good arm, his thumb brushing soothing circles over your knuckles. “I’m sorry, mi amor,” he murmured, his eyes glistening.  

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his. “I thought… I thought something worse happened. I couldn’t breathe until I saw you.”  

“I’m here,” he whispered, his voice steady despite the pain. “And I’ll be fine. Especially with you by my side.”  

You kissed him gently, pouring every ounce of love and relief into the touch. As his lips moved against yours, you felt the fear begin to fade, replaced by the overwhelming gratitude that he was still here with you.  

“I’ll take care of you,” you promised, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. “Whatever you need, I’m here.”  

Pedro smiled, his gaze tender. “I don’t deserve you.”  

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you said, brushing a tear from your cheek. “You deserve the world.”  

And in that moment, surrounded by beeping monitors and the sterile walls of the hospital, it felt like nothing else mattered but the two of you.

FORT RICASOLI, MALTA — DAY  

The sun was high over Fort Ricasoli, the Mediterranean breeze carrying a salty tang as waves crashed against the nearby shore. The reconstructed Roman Colosseum loomed grandly in the fort, its grandeur a perfect backdrop for the epic Gladiator II production. You stepped out of the transport van, sunglasses shielding your eyes from the bright Maltese sun, a bag slung over your shoulder filled with Pedro’s essentials—medication, snacks, and a cold water bottle you knew he’d try to avoid drinking unless reminded.  

As you walked toward the set, Pedro spotted you first, his face lighting up in a way that made your heart ache with affection. He was seated in the shade near the makeup tent, his left arm encased in a royal blue cast that made him look both ridiculous and endearing.  

“Hi,” you called, setting your bag down beside him. “I’m here to be your nurse.”  

Pedro’s grin widened, his dark eyes softening. “You’re more than my nurse. You’re my lifesaver. And I love you so much.”  

You rolled your eyes playfully, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his forehead. “How’s the arm?”  

“It’s humiliating,” he muttered, holding up the cast as if it were a mark of disgrace. “Everyone keeps staring at it. Or laughing. Or both.”  

“There’s nothing humiliating about needing help once in a while, my love,” you said gently, brushing a curl from his forehead. “Besides, it’s a great conversation starter.”  

“Oh, yeah. Real smooth. ‘Hi, I’m Pedro Pascal, and I fell down a flight of stairs like a medieval jester.’”  

You smothered a laugh just as Joseph Quinn sauntered by, pausing dramatically to give Pedro an exaggerated salute. “How’s the mighty warrior today? Still battling gravity, I see.”  

“Go away,” Pedro groaned, waving his good arm dismissively.  

“You’re a walking PSA now,” Fred Hechinger added as he passed. “Don’t text and walk down stairs, kids!”  

Denzel Washington approached next, shaking his head with mock solemnity. “And here I thought I was the one who’d pull a stunt like that.”  

“Traitors,” Pedro muttered, pulling you closer as if you could shield him from the teasing.  

Coco, his ever-sassy hair stylist, smirked as she fixed his curls. “Just make sure she doesn’t trip over your ego next.”  

“Coco!” Pedro whined, but his cheeks flushed, his pout making him look boyish and undeniably adorable.  

Ridley Scott ambled over, his tone a mix of concern and exasperation. “Take it easy, Pedro. You’re not 25 anymore.”  

“Gee, thanks, Ridley,” Pedro huffed, pulling you against him as if seeking comfort.  

The day pressed on, the heat making Pedro’s clinginess somehow both unbearable and heart-meltingly sweet. Despite the steady teasing from the cast and crew, he stuck close to you like a second shadow whenever he wasn’t on set, his blue cast drawing as much attention as his ever-present pout.  

During a break, he tugged at your hand, a soft whine slipping from his lips. “Go with me?”  

You glanced up from the book you were pretending to read. “Go where?”  

“Craft services,” he said, gesturing toward the shaded area where snacks and cold drinks awaited. “I’m starving, and I need moral support.”  

“You literally just had a protein bar,” you teased, but stood anyway, slipping your hand into his.  

“As long as you hold my hand,” you added with a smirk, letting him lead the way.  

His good hand entwined with yours, his thumb brushing lazy circles over your skin as you walked. “You know I’m not letting go, right?”  

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”  

Reaching the craft services tent, Pedro made a beeline for the iced lemonade, his cast making the process comically awkward. You reached over to help him hold the cup steady as he poured, ignoring the amused glances from the crew around you.  

“I got it,” he insisted, though his pouty tone betrayed his frustration.  

“Sure you do, Mr. Dexterity,” you teased. “Here, let me.”  

As you steadied the cup, Paul Mescal appeared beside you, a mischievous grin plastered across his face. “What’s it like being Pedro’s personal assistant and cuddle therapist?”  

Pedro narrowed his eyes, his body shifting slightly as if to shield you from Paul’s teasing. “She’s an angel,” he declared, his tone defensive. “Unlike all of you degenerates.”  

Paul laughed, grabbing a handful of chips. “Touché.”  

Connie Nielsen joined the growing group, her warm smile softening the teasing atmosphere. “An angel with the patience of a saint,” she agreed. “He’s lucky to have you.”  

You squeezed Pedro’s hand, glancing up at him with a playful glint in your eye. “Oh, I know.”  

Pedro leaned down, his voice low and sweet in your ear. “Remind me to buy you something shiny and expensive later.”  

“I’ll hold you to that,” you whispered back, brushing a kiss to his cheek just as Coco walked by, her ever-present smirk firmly in place.  

“Are we making out by the lemonade now?” she quipped, adjusting Pedro’s wig as she passed. “Just don’t knock over the drink dispenser, Casanova.”  

Pedro groaned, but you could see the corner of his mouth twitching, betraying his amusement.  

When Pedro was shooting, you stayed nearby, perched under an umbrella with a bottle of water and a timer set for his next dose of medication. He’d been restless all morning, constantly checking in between takes to make sure you were still there.  

The moment the director called cut, Pedro scanned the area until his eyes landed on you. A small smile tugged at his lips as he made a beeline toward you, his costume slightly dusty from the action sequence.  

“Hydrate,” you ordered the moment he reached you, holding out the water bottle.  

He wrinkled his nose but took it, his good hand struggling to unscrew the cap. You wordlessly reached over to help, earning a sheepish look from him.  

“You know,” he said after a long sip, “you’re bossier than Ridley.”  

“You love it,” you countered, wiping the sweat from his brow with a small towel you’d tucked into your bag.  

Pedro’s lips curved into a soft smile, his gaze lingering on you. “I do,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “A little too much.”  

Your heart squeezed at the tenderness in his tone, and you reached up to brush a stray curl from his forehead. “Good. Now go back to work. Ridley’s glaring at us.”  

He glanced over his shoulder, spotting the director gesturing for him to return. “Fine,” he grumbled, but not before pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.  

As he walked back toward the set, Ridley shook his head, a faint smile on his face. “That woman of yours has you wrapped around her little finger.”  

Pedro shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. “Don’t I know it.”  

THE XARA PALACE RELAIS & CHÂTEAUX, MALTA — EVENING  

The day had taken its toll on both of you, but by the time you returned to the cozy luxury of the hotel suite, Pedro’s exhaustion only seemed to amplify his need for affection. As soon as the door clicked shut behind you, he flopped dramatically onto the small couch, casting a forlorn look your way.  

“Come here,” he said, his good arm extended toward you like a lifeline.  

You chuckled, slipping off your sandals. “I thought you were tired.”  

“I am,” he replied, his lips twitching into a pout. “But I’ll sleep better if you’re right here.”  

Shaking your head fondly, you joined him on the couch, only to be pulled down against his side the moment you were close enough.  

“It’s too hot for this,” you teased, trying—and failing—to push against his firm hold.  

“Don’t care,” Pedro murmured, nuzzling into the curve of your neck as if you were the only source of comfort in the world. “You make everything better.”  

You sighed softly, your resolve melting as your fingers found their way into his curls. They were still slightly damp from his post-shoot shower, and you gently combed through them, marveling at how they always seemed to spring back into place.  

“I think that’s the heatstroke talking,” you quipped, though your voice was warm with affection.  

“No,” he said, his voice muffled against your skin. “That’s the love of my life talking.”  

Your hand stilled for a moment, the weight of his words settling over you like a gentle wave. You pulled back slightly to look at him, but Pedro didn’t let you get far. His warm brown eyes met yours, brimming with sincerity that made your breath catch.  

“You’re insufferable,” you said, though the tremor in your voice betrayed how deeply his words had affected you.  

“And you’re perfect,” he countered, his tone so soft and certain it made your heart ache in the best way.  

Your cheeks warmed, and you leaned down to press a tender kiss to his temple. “You’re lucky I love you,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his skin.  

Pedro grinned, his good arm tightening around you as he pulled you even closer. “I’m the luckiest man alive.”  

For a while, the two of you sat in a comfortable silence, the soft hum of the air conditioning blending with the distant sounds of the Maltese evening outside. Pedro’s breathing began to slow, his head resting heavily against your shoulder as he drifted off. His cast was awkwardly propped up on his chest, and you carefully adjusted a pillow beneath it, not wanting him to wake up sore.  

As you gazed down at him, his face relaxed and peaceful in sleep, your heart swelled with a familiar ache—one born of overwhelming love. He might’ve been clingy and dramatic, prone to complaints about his cast and the heat, but he was also tender and selfless, with a way of making you feel like the most cherished person in the world.  

You traced the curve of his jaw with the tips of your fingers, marveling at how even in his sleep, his hold on you never loosened. He was steady and constant in a way that made you feel safe, loved, and utterly at home.  

He might’ve fallen down the stairs, but it felt like you were the one falling—deeper in love with him every single day.  

Later that night, as the two of you lay tangled together in the king-sized bed, Pedro stirred, his voice groggy but laced with warmth.  

“Are you still awake?”  

“Barely,” you murmured, your head resting against his uninjured shoulder. “Why?”  

He shifted slightly, his fingers grazing over your arm in lazy circles. “Just wanted to say… thank you.”  

“For what?”  

“For taking care of me. For putting up with me being clingy. For loving me even when I’m ridiculous,” he said, his voice soft but earnest.  

You smiled in the darkness, pressing a kiss to his chest. “It’s not putting up with you, Pedro. It’s just loving you. And it’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”  

His breath hitched, and he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, his words carrying the weight of unspoken emotion.  

“You deserve everything,” you replied, your voice firm despite the tears prickling at your eyes.  

Pedro’s arms tightened around you, and in that moment, the world outside the four walls of your suite seemed to fade away. There was only the two of you, tangled together in love and gratitude, the promise of another day together stretching out before you like a gift.  

And as you drifted off to sleep, cradled in his embrace, you couldn’t imagine a place you’d rather be. 

COASTS OF MALTA — MORNING  

The morning sun bathed the harbor in a soft, golden glow as you and Pedro stepped onto the pristine deck of the yacht, greeted by the lively chatter of his castmates and the crew. The day promised adventure—an exploration of Malta’s dazzling coastlines, including the famed Blue Lagoon, Crystal Lagoon, and the secretive caves on Comino. The air smelled of salt and freedom, and the water, impossibly blue and inviting, stretched out like a gem-laden carpet before you.  

Pedro lingered close to you, his blue cast slung in a casual sling, though it didn’t stop him from giving your hand a light squeeze. He leaned down, his voice low and teasing.  

"Don’t get too excited," he murmured with a grin, his dark eyes gleaming. "You’ll make me look bad."  

You bumped your shoulder into his, rolling your eyes. "I can’t help it if I’m more fun than you."  

"More fun? Or more distracting?" His gaze flicked briefly to the bikini peeking out from your cover-up, his expression bordering on predatory before he quickly masked it with a playful smirk.  

“Behave, Pascal,” you teased, your cheeks warming under his intense stare.  

As the boat cruised toward its first stop, the Blue Lagoon, the mood was light and cheerful. Connie and Fred lounged near the bow, animatedly swapping stories with the crew, their laughter carrying over the soft sound of the waves. Coco flitted around like a hummingbird with her camera, capturing candid shots of the lively group. Near the railing, Paul was attempting to teach Denzel a ridiculous dance move, the two of them tripping over their own feet and causing more chaos than rhythm.  

You stood near Pedro, feeling the sun’s warmth on your skin, the gentle breeze teasing at your cover-up. A playful grin spread across your face as you untied the knot at your waist, sliding the fabric off and tossing it onto a nearby lounge chair. The vibrant bikini beneath was perfectly chosen—bright and bold against your skin, hugging your curves in a way that made you feel confident and beautiful.  

Pedro, seated comfortably in the shade with his injured arm resting on a cushion, froze mid-sip of his drink. His gaze locked onto you, his eyes darkening as they traced every inch of your form. Appreciation was clear in his expression, but it was the simmering heat in his stare that sent a thrill down your spine.  

You stretched your arms over your head, feigning oblivion to his attention as you joined Coco and Paul in their antics. The movement made your waist curve just enough to draw a quiet groan from Pedro’s lips, which didn’t go unnoticed by Coco. She smirked, leaning down to whisper as she passed him.  

“Subtle,” she teased, her voice dripping with amusement.  

Pedro didn’t even attempt to hide his grin. His eyes stayed glued to you as he shrugged, unapologetic. “Can you blame me?”  

Coco snorted. “Not one bit. But maybe cool it unless you want everyone else to notice how thirsty  you are.”  

“Let them,” Pedro muttered, mostly to himself. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he watched you laugh with Paul, the way your body moved under the bright sun making it nearly impossible for him to look away.  

When you caught his eye and shot him a playful wink, his good hand flexed against the armrest of his chair, the urge to pull you back to him almost too strong to resist.  

Later, as you leaned over the edge of the boat, peering down at the water with Paul pointing out fish, Pedro’s voice rumbled low behind you.  

“You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”  

You turned to find him standing close, his cast resting awkwardly at his side. “I am. The water’s beautiful,” you said with a smile, but his eyes weren’t on the water.  

“They’re not the only thing,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to the curve of your hips, the dip of your waist.  

Heat bloomed on your cheeks, but you couldn’t help the grin that tugged at your lips. “Pedro Pascal,” you teased, stepping closer. “Are you flirting with me on a boat in front of all your castmates?”  

“Flirting?” He scoffed, his voice rich with amusement. “I’m just admiring. Can’t a man admire his girlfriend?”  

“Girlfriend?” you repeated, arching a brow.  

He smirked, leaning in just enough for his breath to ghost over your skin. “The girlfriend,” he corrected, his voice dropping into a tone that sent a shiver racing through you despite the heat.  

You bit your lip, glancing around at the others, who were too distracted to notice the charged moment. “Behave yourself,” you whispered, though your heart raced at the way his good hand brushed lightly against your hip.  

He grinned, leaning back with an exaggerated sigh. “I’m trying, but you’re not making it easy, sweetheart.”  

The way he said it, rough and low, had your stomach doing flips. The teasing sparkle in his eyes told you he knew exactly the effect he was having on you—and he wasn’t the least bit sorry about it.

When the boat anchored near the Blue Lagoon, you practically bounced with excitement. “I’m going in!”  

Pedro chuckled as you grabbed your snorkeling gear, pausing to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Try not to miss me too much,” you teased before hopping off the boat with an elegant dive.  

“Not possible,” he called after you, his voice tinged with laughter.  

The water was cool and crystal clear, every ripple catching the sunlight like scattered diamonds. You swam alongside Coco and Paul, laughing as he tried to outswim everyone only to splash clumsily when Coco teased him about his lack of grace. Schools of fish darted around you, their silvery bodies glimmering in the lagoon’s shallows, and the thrill of the moment made you forget the world beyond the sparkling blue waters.  

Pedro watched from the deck, his good hand cradling a drink as his cast rested on his lap. He smiled softly, his heart swelling at the sight of you. You were so effortlessly kind, so radiant, laughing and splashing with his friends as if you’d known them your whole life.  

“She’s really something,” Ridley remarked as he joined Pedro at the shaded table.  

“Don’t I know it,” Pedro replied, his voice warm with pride.  

“She’s good for you,” Ridley said simply, his tone laced with a rare softness.  

Pedro glanced at the director, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. She’s my soulmate.”  

Later, you clambered back onto the boat, droplets of water clinging to your skin, sparkling in the sunlight as they traced lazy paths down your arms and legs. Your grin was infectious, the kind of radiant joy that could light up an entire room—or, in this case, the deck of the boat. Pedro’s eyes were glued to you, as though the rest of the world had faded into the background.  

“Having fun?” he asked, his voice tinged with amusement but warm with affection.  

“The best,” you replied breathlessly, grabbing a towel and wringing out your hair. “You should’ve come in with us. The water is incredible.”  

He raised his cast dramatically, pulling a mock grimace. “In case you forgot, I’m a bit handicapped here.”  

“Oh, poor baby,” you teased, crouching beside him. You leaned in to press a playful kiss to his cheek, your lips lingering just long enough to make him sigh. “Next time, I’ll stay on the boat with you. We can sulk together.”  

Pedro’s good hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer before you could stand. “Don’t you dare,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble in your ear. “Watching you have fun out there is the next best thing to being in the water myself.”  

You arched a brow, motioning to your bikini with a teasing grin. “You mean you like the view.”  

Pedro’s lips curved into a slow, devilish smirk. His mouth brushed your ear as he whispered, “I love the view.”  

The heat of his words sent a shiver down your spine, making your cheeks flush. You swatted at his chest playfully before standing and tossing the towel over your shoulder. “Careful, Pascal. You’re not supposed to overheat with that cast on.”  

The boat anchored near the caves on Comino, the turquoise water shimmering like liquid glass. Pedro waved you off with a mock sternness, insisting you go explore while he stayed behind.  

“I’ll hold down the fort,” he said, settling back into his chair with a small smirk. “Don’t get lost in there.”  

You rolled your eyes, blowing him a kiss before diving into the water with Paul and Fred. The group swam toward the darkened entrance of the caves, their laughter echoing off the limestone walls. Inside, the sunlight filtered through cracks, casting dancing patterns on the rocky surfaces.  

Pedro, stuck on the boat, didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. His gaze followed you like a shadow, lingering on the curve of your body as you moved effortlessly through the water. Every so often, you glanced back at the boat, catching him watching you. He didn’t even pretend to look away, his expression soft, adoring, and entirely unguarded.  

When you returned, dripping wet and exhilarated, you plopped down beside him with a dramatic sigh, leaning your head against his shoulder.  

“You’ve been staring at me all day,” you teased, your tone light but your heart pounding at the intensity of his attention.  

Pedro turned his head slightly, brushing his lips against your temple. “Can you blame me?” he murmured. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”  

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten. You tilted your head to meet his gaze, your hand finding his on the armrest. “You’re laying it on thick today,” you joked, though your voice wavered just slightly.  

“It’s the truth,” he countered simply, his thumb brushing across your knuckles.  

Your moment was interrupted by Paul’s exaggerated wolf whistle from across the deck. “Get a room, you two!”  

Fred chimed in with a loud groan. “Some of us are single and fragile!”  

You laughed, your head falling back briefly before you turned to Pedro, lowering your voice so only he could hear. “They’re just jealous.”  

“Damn right, they are,” Pedro said, leaning in close. “You’re all mine.”  

The possessiveness in his tone was playful but sent your pulse racing nonetheless.  

Later, as the boat rocked gently in the open waters, you sat on Pedro’s lap, his good arm wrapped securely around your waist. The sun had begun its descent, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold.  

“Pedro,” you said softly, your fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on his thigh. “Can we stay like this forever?”  

His eyes softened as he looked down at you, his smile tender. “I’d stay here with you forever if I could,” he replied, his voice filled with quiet certainty.  

The weight of his words settled over you, grounding you in the moment. You bit your lip, leaning in closer until your noses brushed. “Please just kiss me already.”  

Pedro didn’t need to be asked twice. His lips captured yours in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, full of unspoken promises and a depth of feeling that took your breath away. His hand splayed across your back, pulling you impossibly closer as the world around you seemed to disappear.  

When you finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against yours, and he let out a soft laugh. “I think you might be my soulmate,” he said, his voice a mixture of awe and certainty.  

Your eyes searched his, and for a moment, the noise of the others and the gentle lapping of the waves faded entirely. “I think you might be mine too,” you whispered, sealing the moment with another kiss.  

Laughter and chatter echoed around you, the boat a hub of joy and togetherness, but for you and Pedro, time seemed to stand still. In his arms, surrounded by the beauty of Malta and the warmth of his love, you knew you were exactly where you were meant to be.

[creedslove]

contractor!Joel Miller who's always groaning and grunting while doing the heavy chores, reeking of pure masculinity as he works so hard, unaware of how sexy he truly is

contractor!Joel Miller whose muscly arms glisten with sweat and his shirt hangs tight to his fit strong body while he wipes sweat off his forehead

contractor!Joel Miller who always asks for a glass of water and doesn't notice how you watch his neck attentively, his strong muscles working as he swallows the water and it gives you so many ideas

contractor!Joel Miller who pauses a little to catch his breath and observe his own work and places his hands on his hips, never realizing how tight his jeans are around his thigh

contractor!Joel Miller who never notices when you stare at his big bulge while he's working

contractor!Joel Miller whose hair is all messy and curls as sticking to his sweaty forehead and yet he manages to look so hot

contractor!Joel Miller who brushes his fingers against yours slightly when you pass him a cup of coffee like he asked in between his breaks

contractor!Joel Miller who grips your hair tight and calls you baby when you are on your knees choking on his cook in the middle of work day

contractor!Joel Miller who stops everything he's doing to spread your legs apart and eat your pussy with hunger and need until you are shaking and his beard is dripping with your juice

contractor!Joel Miller who loves stuffing you with his thick cock, pounding into you during work hours, and can't get enough of you dirty little game

[andy-15-07]

hi! can i request a friends to lovers fanfic where the reader is a surgeon and met pedro through mutual friends, but then they grew apart because of their busy schedule. After a few years they meet again and decide to date, thanks 🖤

From Friends to Forever

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x female reader

Word Count: 2074 | requests are open!

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

The upscale restaurant buzzed with a lively energy, the clinking of glasses and the soft laughter of patrons creating a warm, inviting atmosphere. You sat nestled in a booth, a rare evening off from the whirlwind of your life as a surgeon granting you this moment of respite. The long, grueling shifts, the constant pressure of life-or-death situations, and the emotional weight that clung to you like a second skin had left little room for anything beyond the sterile walls of the hospital. But tonight was different. Tonight, you found yourself face-to-face with Pedro .

The memory of your initial meeting, a serendipitous encounter orchestrated by mutual friends, flashed through your mind. His infectious laughter and the warmth that radiated from him had drawn you in immediately. You'd spent hours engrossed in conversation, bonding over shared passions, late-night musings, and a mutual appreciation for the simple pleasures of life, like sharing a bottle of cheap wine and debating the merits of obscure indie films.

However, life had a way of intruding on even the most cherished connections. His career had skyrocketed, propelled by a string of critically acclaimed roles, while your own life was consumed by the relentless demands of your surgical residency. Phone calls became less frequent, texts went unanswered, and the vibrant thread of your friendship gradually frayed, fading into a distant memory.

Yet, here he was, sitting across from you, that same mischievous glint in his eyes, that familiar warmth emanating from him. "How long has it been?" he asked, his voice a low rumble, laced with a hint of surprise and a touch of nostalgia.

"Too long," you replied, taking a sip of your wine, the cool liquid a welcome respite from the sudden flutter in your chest. "You've been busy becoming a household name, while I've been buried under a mountain of surgeries."

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair, a comfortable ease settling over him. "Fair enough. But look at you! Surgeon extraordinaire. You always had that drive."

"And you always had that charm," you retorted playfully, earning a genuine laugh from him. The ice was broken.

The rest of the evening unfolded with a surprising ease. The years that had drifted by seemed to melt away, replaced by a comfortable familiarity. You found yourself drawn into his stories, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm as he described the challenges and triumphs of his career. In turn, you shared glimpses into the demanding world of medicine, the adrenaline-fueled chaos of the operating room, and the profound satisfaction, and sometimes the crushing weight, of saving lives.

As the night wore on, the restaurant began to empty, the initial buzz replaced by a lingering sense of contentment. Pedro glanced at you, his expression softening, a question unspoken hanging in the air. "Hey," he began, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "do you have a moment? There's a little coffee shop around the corner. Want to catch up properly?"

You hesitated, glancing at your watch. You had an early shift tomorrow, the exhaustion of the past few weeks threatening to catch up with you. But the pull to reconnect, to delve deeper into this unexpected reunion, was undeniable. "Sure," you agreed, grabbing your coat.

The coffee shop was a haven of tranquility, the warm glow of the lights casting a soft halo over the worn leather booths. You settled into a cozy corner, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. Pedro ordered two lattes, his gaze lingering on you as he spoke to the barista.

"So," he began, his voice low and sincere, "tell me everything. What's it like saving lives every day?"

You smiled, tracing the rim of your cup, the warmth radiating through the ceramic. "It's rewarding, incredibly so. But it's also...intense. The hours are long, the pressure is immense. You're constantly on the edge, dealing with life-and-death situations. Sometimes, it feels like there's no room for anything else."

He nodded thoughtfully, his gaze searching yours. "Sounds lonely."

"It can be," you admitted, a tinge of melancholy coloring your voice. "But I've learned to find joy in the small things. Like this," you gestured to the steaming cup of coffee, "these quiet moments, these unexpected connections. They remind me that there's more to life than just the operating room."

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. "I get that. Acting can be the same way. It's easy to get lost in the whirlwind, to become consumed by the character, the performance. You lose sight of everything else."

For hours, you poured your heart out, sharing your fears, your dreams, the joys and the sorrows that shaped your life. He listened intently, his eyes reflecting a genuine interest in your story. In turn, he opened up about the challenges of his own career, the constant scrutiny, the pressure to maintain a public persona while navigating the complexities of his personal life.

As the night deepened, you found yourself captivated by his honesty, his vulnerability. The years of distance seemed to melt away, replaced by a comfortable intimacy that had been dormant for far too long. As you parted ways, a sense of warmth, a feeling you hadn't realized you'd been missing, lingered in your heart.

The following weeks were a whirlwind of reconnection. Texts and calls became a lifeline, a way to bridge the gap between your busy schedules. You shared stories, laughed until your sides ached, and discovered a renewed appreciation for each other's company. Late-night phone calls became your refuge, a space where you could unwind, share your deepest thoughts, and simply enjoy each other's presence.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day at the hospital, your phone buzzed with a text from Pedro. "Hey, are you free this weekend?" he asked, his tone unusually hesitant.

"I think so. Why?"

"There's this little art exhibit I've been dying to see. Thought maybe you'd join me?"

You smiled, touched by the invitation. "I'd love to."

The exhibit was a feast for the senses, a vibrant explosion of colors and textures. Pedro's enthusiasm was contagious as he guided you through the gallery, sharing his insights, his interpretations of the art. You found yourself captivated by his passion, his ability to see the world through a different lens. At one point, you caught him watching you, a thoughtful expression gracing his features.

"What?" you asked, a playful lilt to your voice.

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "Just...happy you're here."

Something shifted in that moment. The air between you thrummed with a subtle energy, a connection deeper than mere friendship. The realization hit you with the force of a tidal wave – this was more than just a casual reunion, more than a friendly catch-up.

The weeks that followed were a delicate dance, a slow, tentative exploration of a burgeoning connection. His gestures became more pronounced – a lingering touch, a compliment that lingered on your mind long after he'd spoken. And then, one evening, as you walked along a quiet street, he stopped abruptly, his gaze fixed on you.

"I need to say something," he began, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant. "I've been trying to ignore it, but I can't. I like you. More than a friend should."

Your heart pounded against your ribs, the weight of his words sinking in. "Pedro..."

"I know it's complicated," he interrupted, his gaze intense. "Our schedules are insane, and it won't be easy. But I'm willing to try. If you are."

Tears welled up in your eyes, the intensity of his confession overwhelming you. "I'm willing," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

The transition from friends to lovers was a gradual, organic process. You navigated the complexities of your careers, finding solace in stolen moments, late-night phone calls, and weekend escapes. His unwavering support became your anchor, a constant source of strength during the most challenging days. You would wait for you outside the hospital after a long shift, bringing coffee and a warm smile that could melt away the exhaustion of the day. You would spend hours on set with him, watching him transform into a different character, marveling at his dedication and talent.

One evening, as you sat on the edge of his bed, watching him read a script, you noticed a small, silver locket tucked into his jeans pocket. Curiosity piqued, you reached out and gently pulled it out.

"What's this?" you asked, turning it over in your hand.

He looked up from the script, a hint of surprise in his eyes. "Oh, that." He hesitated, then continued, "It was my grandmother's. She gave it to me before she passed away. She told me to hold onto it, to remember the things that truly matter."

You opened the locket. Inside, nestled on a bed of velvet, was a faded photograph of a young woman with kind eyes and a warm smile.

"She was beautiful," you said softly.

"She was," Pedro agreed, a touch of melancholy in his voice. "She taught me about love, about family, about the importance of cherishing the moments that truly count."

He reached for the locket, his fingers brushing against yours. "I want to give you something," he said, his voice low and husky.

He pulled out a small box from his bedside table and opened it. Inside, nestled on a bed of satin, was a delicate silver bracelet, a single diamond sparkling in the center.

"It's… it's beautiful," you whispered, your breath catching in your throat.

He slipped the bracelet onto your wrist, his gaze intense. "It's for you. A reminder of the moments we've shared, and the many more to come."

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his. The kiss was slow, tender, a culmination of weeks of unspoken emotions. As you pulled away, you looked into his eyes, and you knew. This was it. This was the beginning of something truly special.

The following months were a whirlwind of stolen moments and unexpected joys. You navigated the challenges of your demanding careers with a newfound sense of ease, your love a constant source of strength and support. You learned to cherish the small moments – a shared cup of coffee in the morning, a stolen dance in his trailer on set, a quiet evening at home, watching a movie curled up on the couch. You discovered that even in the midst of chaos, there was always time for love.

One evening, months later, Pedro surprised you with a weekend getaway to a secluded cabin in the woods. The crisp autumn air, the crackling fire, and the peaceful silence were a balm to your souls. As you sat on the porch, watching the stars twinkle in the night sky, Pedro turned to you, his eyes filled with a love that transcended words.

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Will you marry me?"

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you nodded, unable to speak. He pulled you close, burying his face in your hair. "Yes," you whispered finally, "yes, a thousand times yes."

The wedding was a small, intimate affair, held in a charming vineyard overlooking the rolling hills of Tuscany. Your friends, family, and a select few colleagues from both your worlds gathered to celebrate the love that had blossomed between you. As you stood at the altar, exchanging vows, you felt an overwhelming sense of peace and joy. You had found your soulmate, the one person who made your heart sing and your life feel complete.

Years later, as you sat on the porch of your own cozy cabin, watching your children play in the garden, you couldn't help but smile. Life had thrown its curveballs, but you had navigated them together, your love a constant, unwavering force. You looked at Pedro, who was now reading a bedtime story to your son, and you knew that this was just the beginning of your happily ever after. The clinking of glasses and the laughter of friends faded into a distant memory, replaced by the sound of children's giggles and the gentle rhythm of your own lives. And as you watched them, you realized that the greatest adventure of all was not the fame or the fortune, but the love you had built, brick by brick, a testament to the enduring power of connection and the magic of finding your way back to each other.

[orcasoul]

The Plus One

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

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

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

Word Count: 3,516

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Merry Christmas, Baby

Summary: You're not sure what to get Javi for Christmas, until he gives you an idea for a gift you can't put under the tree

Word Count: 3.3K (I wrote this in two hours, the thots do be thotin)

Paring: Husband!Javi x Wife!reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+) unprotected p in v sex (whoops), breeding kink (I'll say it once and I'll say it again, you KNOW this man deserves 17 kids) vaginal fingering, creampie (big time), family planning, Javi gets so excited about the idea of another baby he literally can't control himself, terrible, sexual Christmas puns, cute and sweet Christmas fluff bc I love this family more than life and you know they give their kids the most magical Christmases 🥺

A/N: I'll take Javier Peña with a big fat breeding kink for a thousand, please!!! I was feeling in a writing rut, until I read @notjustjavierpena Husband Javi Christmas fic last night, and lord have MERCY, consider me inspired 🫡 I'll never shut up about the fact that this man wants a football team, and every Christmas will ask to put another baby in you as his only Christmas gift BYEEEEEEE I need to be institutionalized at this point sorry this is poorly beta'd, it's me, I'm allergic to editing!!!

Forever and Always Masterlist Never Too Late Masterlist

“Javier Peña, there has to be something you want for Christmas.” 

“As long as all my girls are happy, that’s all I want.” 

“Unfortunately, I can’t wrap your sappy sentiment, Javi.” 

There was nothing more that you enjoyed than showering Javi with gifts for the holidays. There were few people on earth you could imagine being more deserving than your husband- you’d find a way to wrap the moon and top it with a bow, if that’s what he wanted. Unfortunately for you, Javi was so sweet, it made buying gifts for him nearly impossible, considering there was rarely ever a tangible item on his wishlist. 

“I don’t need anything, baby.” Javi smiled, reaching for the roll of bright pink and sparkly wrapping paper in front of him to start covering the new Barbie Dream House Lucy had been begging for all year long. “Toss me the tape.” 

“Well obviously I have things for you, but I always wanna make sure I’m getting you things that you want.” You sighed, gently throwing the roll of Scotch tape you had been using over the pile of gifts between you and Javi you were working on wrapping while your daughters were asleep. 

After six Christmases under your belts, you and Javi had learned from the one grave mistake of waiting until Christmas Eve to wrap all your daughter’s presents, now taking a few nights before the big day to wrap and assemble any gifts being left under the tree for your own sanity. 

Now that your girls, Lucy, Elliot and Harper, were six, four and two, it made Christmas even more magical, knowing that they were beginning to understand the concept of what the holiday meant, and all the joyous anticipation that led up to the 25th of December. 

It also meant that there were a lot more presents to wrap- 1, because Lucy and Elliot knew that they could ask for gifts they wanted, and 2, because Javi would say he’d be done buying presents and then show up the next day after work with another toy for his girls. 

“Honey, you get great gifts, for me, but especially for the girls, too. Fuck, I forgot this needs batteries…” Javi mumbled to himself, carefully undoing the wrapping paper he had started working on, “You make a very good Santa.” 

“I think the girls like your version of Santa better, since that’s how they end up with double the gifts under the tree.” You giggled, playfully rolling your eyes at Javi before reaching for the next toy in the pile, “I’m being serious, Javi. I love spoiling those girls just as much as you, but you also deserve to be spoiled too, ya know.” 

“You’re my wife, gave me three beautiful daughters, and tolerate me on a daily basis. Baby, that’s plenty fucking spoiled, if you ask me.” Javi grinned, giving you a reassuring nod and little shrug of his shoulders. 

“You’re much more than tolerable, you goof.” You laughed, cheeks pink at the warmth of your husband’s words, never failing to make you melt a little more each day. “Will you please just tell me one thing you want? Then I’ll let it go, I promise.” 

Javi sat quietly for a moment, fiddling with the edges of the wrapping paper he was working on before a boyish smile began to creep into the corners of his cheeks. 

“Uh oh.” You laughed to yourself, immediately recognizing the goofy grin Javi was trying to contain, “What is it, Peña?” 

“You’re not gonna like it.” Javi snickered to himself, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“Jav, if it’s another dog, I told you, when the girls are older and-” 

“No, it’s not another dog.” He smirked, still softly laughing to himself as you tilted your head at him in confusion, trying to piece together what kind of gift Javi would want that would take any convincing from you, crossing your arms over your chest as you attempted to decipher the devious splayed across his face. 

It only took about two seconds and that look to figure out what Javi was in the market for.  

“Javi…” You sighed, your tone jokingly stern. 

“Osita?” He responded back, trying to downplay his giddiness now that you had figured out his gift suggestion. 

“Javi, four kids is a lot of kids. One more, and they’re doubling us in ranks.” 

You had always been on the fence about having a fourth baby. Not because you didn’t love having kids, or that you didn’t think you couldn’t handle it, mentally or financially, but because your brain worked in logistics- adding one more member to your family was getting you to the point where you’d have so many kids, you wouldn’t even all fit in Javi’s truck anymore, unless someone got demoted to the trunk, which, in all honesty, you were sure Elliot wouldn’t mind. 

For Javi, on the other hand, there was no need to worry about logistics- the two of you would figure it out sooner or later. The only logistics he was worried about was instigating the baby making process.  

“You asked what I wanted!” Javi replied, chuckling as he held his hands up in defense, “I think I’ve been a very good boy all year, if you ask me.” 

“What you’re asking for is definitely putting you on the naughty list.” You huffed, trying to distract yourself with finishing wrapping the present you were working on to hide the fact you were genuinely considering Javi’s present suggestion. “You really think we can handle four kids, Jav?” 

It took everything in you not to laugh at the way Javi instantly perked up when your first response to his gift idea wasn’t rejection, eyeing you up and down and gently biting down on his lower lip. 

“Mhmmm.” He nodded, slowly making his way around the pile of presents to scooch closer to you, “I’ll take care of everything, mi amor. You, the girls, the baby, I can ask for less hours at work so I can help around here, whatever you want, you know I’ll give it to you.” 

“You really want this baby, huh?” You giggled, smirking at Javi as he crawled next to you, hungry look in his eyes while he began to cage his body over yours, carefully laying you down on the floor beneath him. 

“Fuck, I wanna knock you up again so bad. You’re so fucking sexy when you’re pregnant.” Javi groaned, planking overtop you, his hot breath dancing across your skin in between his soft nips at your pulse point. “Let me fuck another baby into you, Osita. Please.” 

Any inhibitions you would have had in protest had completely flown out the window, arousal soaking the fabric of your underwear as Javi kissed up your neck and across your collarbone, softly palming at your breasts under one of his old sweatshirts you had thrown on. 

Truth be told, you and Javi had talked about baby number four enough that you were already leaning towards saying 'yes' anyways, but that wouldn’t stop you from having a little fun in seeing how badly Javi really wanted the Christmas gift he was asking you for. 

“Tell me how badly you want it, Javi. Tell me how much you wanna fuck another baby into me.” You devilishly whispered into his ear, smiling to yourself at the pathetic groan that rumbled from his chest in response. 

“Fuck me-” Javi moaned, hands feverishly groping your body, “Fuck, I want it so bad, quierda. Wanna fill you up ‘till it has no choice but to fucking take, fuck this pussy so full of me, let everyone know who it belongs to, watching you carry our baby. Please, Osita.” 

It was a good thing you were already prepared to be easily swayed, because even if you weren’t, listening to the way Javi was begging to put another baby in you would have easily been enough. 

“Okay. Merry Christmas, Papí.” 

Your green light was all Javi needed to spark something completely feral in him, practically ripping your clothes off you in the middle of the living room, sprawled out on the carpet. 

“Javi, we can go upstairs and-” 

“No. Fuck, I need to fuck you right now, just like this.” He grunted, shedding his clothes before his hand was cupping over your underwear, jaw going slack at how absolutely soaked the fabric was under the pads of his fingers. “Apparently you do too, huh, Momma? She’s so wet for me, isn’t she? Pretty pussy wants me to fill her up so bad.” 

Your stomach churned in arousal as Javi ripped your panties down your legs, revealing the puffy, glistening mess beneath. Javi had barely touched you, and you could already feel the way you’re dripping, admittedly just as turned on as him at the idea of letting him add another addition to your family. 

“Christ, baby.” Javi muttered, settling between your legs. Letting his hands run up the insides of your thighs, he took his thumbs and slid them between your folds, spreading you open to get a full view of the way your slick was coating your cunt. “Making a fucking mess for me already.” 

“I think I’m ovulating soon.” You sigh, doing some quick math in your head, trying to account for just how worked up you were, Javi’s eyes so going wide at the realization, you were worried they may just pop out of his skull. 

“Oh, fuck me.” Javi groaned, shaking his head in disbelief at his luck, “You’re right, Merry fuckin’ Christmas to me then.” 

Swirling the pads of his fingers against your clit, your back arched against the floor at the shockwaves the pleasure sent through your body, making you gasp so loud, you were worried you risked a real possibility of waking up your daughters. 

“F-Fuck, Javi-” You whimpered, already bucking your bottom half towards him as he sunk his two fingers into your cunt while the heel of his palm rubbed deliciously against your clit. Reaching up, your grasp wrapped around Javi’s bicep, muscles flexing with each pulse of his fingers as you left half-crescent moons in his skin. 

It took everything in you not to scream as a third finger joined the first two, stretching you out as he bumped against your g-spot, tension already beginning to build in your core. A sudden gasp escaped your chest, surprised by the newfound emptiness that had you clenching around nothing, looking up to see Javi reaching down to wrap his hand around his cock, stroking it a few times before lining it up with your entrance. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I need to fucking feel you, baby. Swear you’ve got me feeling like I’m about to bust like a fucking teenager.” Javi grunted, running his tip against your clit and down your cunt, collecting your arousal before thrusting himself inside you, filling you to the brim with every inch of him. 

Unless you were desperately pressed for time, Javi normally had a bare bones minimum of pulling at least one orgasm out of you before he fucked you, but seeing how worked up and needy he was to feel you wrapped around him, it was about as close to an orgasm you could get withtout actually having one. 

“Oh fuck, Javi!” you whined, feeling the tip of his head kiss your cervix as he began to thrust in and out of you, feeling dizzy from his fullness. You could tell he was trying to hold himself together, his hips slamming into you in deep, slow thrusts, breath hitching in the back of your throat every time he buries himself deeper inside you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. So fucking tight. Fuck, I can’t wait to fill her up, give you every last fucking drop. Taking me so fucking well.” Javi moaned through gritted teeth, already scrunching his face in concentration through his pussy drunk babbling.  

Running his hands up the back of your thighs, Javi pushed your knees to your chest, pinning your legs in place against your stomach to stretch you out even further, letting him sink himself even deeper to hit the spot he knew drove you just as crazy as it drove him. 

Despite how lost in pleasure the two of you were, Javi was at least conscious enough to realize how loud you had gotten, quickly reaching up cup your mouth, catching your muffled moans in the palm of his hand. 

“I know, hermosa. Fuck, I love hearing you, but we gotta keep quiet enough, baby.” Javi huffed, snaking the hand covering your mouth between your bodies, circling at your clit, almost as if he was putting you through some sort of cruel test to see how far he could push you before he had you screaming at the top of your lungs. 

“Fuck- fuck, I know. You feel so good, Javi.” You whined, hand pressed against his bare chest, his warmth and weight pinning your body below him. 

You feel the way Javi’s thrusts become quicker and harsher, filling himself as deep as he could as your cunt began to clench around his length, sucking him in with your warmth and wetness. Your eyes had been scrunched, so lost in your own pleasure that you hadn’t even noticed the nearly pained look on Javi’s face, furrowing his brow in deep concentration with each slap of his hips against yours. 

“You okay, Javi?” You asked, panting out each word as he pounded into you, circling your clit faster and faster as his grip tightened around your thighs, trying to keep himself grounded. 

“Yeah, I- Fuck- fuck me, I’m trying so hard not to finish before you do. Pussy feels so fucking good. Wanna cum so fucking deep inside you.” Javi moaned, the rhythm of his hips already starting to falter thinking about his endgame. 

If you weren’t so lost in your own ecstasy, you probably would have giggled at Javi’s admission, giving him shit about how he couldn’t hold it together for even just a few minutes, knowing he could finally try to get you pregnant again. But right now, you’re just shocked you can even get any words to form coherent thoughts to string together, let alone tease him. 

“Put a baby in me, Javi. Fuck, want you to cum so deep inside me, please, baby.” 

You could barely finish the whimpers of your sentence before Javi’s pace became sloppy and erratic, hips stuttering before his jaw went slack, letting a low, long groan escape from his chest. 

“Oh, f-fuck-” Javi stammered, flushing his hips against yours as you felt his warm spend coat your walls, pressed so deep inside you, you were convinced it’d have no choice but to stick, in a few weeks finding out baby number four would be on the way. 

Javi’s chest rose and fell, looking down at the way your bodies melted together beneath him, igniting something primal in him to see the mix of your arousal seeping around where the two of you met. His eyes darkened, looking down at you with a feral sort of smirk, not even giving you the chance to speak before his lips were crashing into yours again, hips slowly thrusting while his fingers rubbed at your sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“J-Javi, what are you-” You muttered, cut off by the messy dancing of tongues and teeth in your mouths. 

“I’m not done yet, Momma. Not until I fuck myself so deep in there we know it fucking takes. Wanna keep you stuffed so fucking full of me.” Javi grunted, rubbing your clit faster at the way he could feel the walls of your pussy starting to flutter around him, determined to make sure he wasn’t the only one who finished. “Cum for me, baby. I know you’re close. Can feel how tight she’s getting for me.” 

You knew just as well as he did that the tingle that had been building at the base of your spine had slowly begun to flow to every inch of your body, building up through your legs and into your core, clenching down harder and harder around Javi’s cock, knowing there was no doubt the mess between your legs was surley just as wet as it sounded as he slid in and out of you. 

“Oh fuck, Javi, oh fuck- fuck, fuckfuckfuck- ah!” 

It didn't take long before your orgasm crashed through you, lighting up every inch of you in radiating pleasure, your cunt clamping down so hard around Javi’s cock, it made him let out a strangled gasp as he choked out curses under his breath. 

“Jesus, fuck. Gonna squeeze every last fucking drop outta me, huh? My greedy fuckin’ girl.” Javi smirked, planting a soft kiss on your lips before he slumped on top of you, your chests rising and falling as one as you finished coming down from your high. 

The two of you laid there for a moment, catching your breaths and basking in bliss before Javi was pulling out of you with a hiss, one hand wrapped around his softening cock, the other scooping up the mix of your spend pooling between your legs before it dripped to the floor, carefully pushing it back inside you. 

“Fuck,” Javi laughed to himself quietly, sitting back on his haunches, admiring the slick, shiny mess your pussy had become, “Jesus, I can’t remember the last time I came that hard.” 

“Looks like Christmas came early this year… and so did you.” You giggled, making Javi roll his eyes, playfully shaking one of the legs still pressed to your chest. 

“Shut up.” He sighed, shaking his head at you before laying back down beside you, shifting so that his chest was pressed to your back, spooning you in his grasp. “Gotta make sure Santa’s not the only thing coming down the chimney this year.” 

“Jesus Christ, Javi.” You can’t help but snort, ashamed of how easily amused you are by his stupid puns. 

“What? You let me get my gift early, least I can do is stuff your stocking for you.” 

“Oh my god, you are the worst.” 

The two of you giggled, basking in your laughter as you laid together on the floor, only spurred on by the fact you realized how ridiculous it was that the two of you were completely naked in the middle of your living room, surrounded by a sea of wrapping paper and presents. 

“Speaking of stocking stuffers, we should finish wrapping the rest of these gifts we have out before we go to bed. At least some of these presents should be wrapped, because the one you just gave me was most definitely not.” You teased, craning your neck to pepper ticklish kisses across Javi’s jaw. 

“It’s the gift that keeps on giving. I’ll give it to you tomorrow too, if you let me.” Javi grinned, giving you a playful wink before pressing a kiss into your messy hair and patting your hip, reaching over you to grab the pile of clothes the two of you had left next to you. “Seriously though, thank you. You and our girls are the best gift I could ever have, but adding one more would make me so fucking happy. I love you, Osita.” 

“I love you too, Javi. You guys are the best gift I could ask for, too. Although, I will say, your gift also selfishly works in my favor, too. Some presents are just better unwrapped.”

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