#pedro pascal hair appreciation

[legendary-pink-dot]

Frankie Morales's sweaty curls. Reblog if you agree.

[legendary-pink-dot]

His HAIR in this scene.

😭😭😭

NARCOS | 2x03: Our Man in Madrid

[legendary-pink-dot]

Bush Pilot

Pairing: Francisco "Catfish" Morales x female reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Oral sex (f receiving, and lots of it), fingering, semi-public sex, truck backseat shenanigans, seatbelts as restraints, established relationship, fetish/obsession for Frankie's hair, and a bit of masturbation (m)

Word Count: 2.2K

Summary: A drive to an isolated beach to watch the sunrise, some time to kill before dawn, soft aftermarket seatbelts, and Frankie's superior night vision.

Notes: No use of "Y/N". The inspiration for this one came from a line in my fic Airport Pickup. This fic took FOREVER to finish as I've had very limited writing time lately. Hope you enjoy it. All my love to my magic sluts/cheerleaders who don't have to hear my whining about this fic anymore yay: @imalrightllama @basicoccult @exquisiteserotonin @youandmeand5bucks @arcanefox207 @sparklefarts38 @blueheat1-blog1 @redhotkitchen

You wake up to a bump in the road and an indigo sky. Not midnight dark anymore, but not quite twilight yet either. The dashboard clock reads 4:27 AM and you know it's correct because this is Frankie's truck, and everything about it has been meticulously maintained. Its owner is particular that way.

Frankie notices you stir and twines his hand into yours, resting it against your thigh, his fingers squeezing gently. "Hey, perfect timing. Almost there."

"Sorry, fell asleep. I hate mornings." You crack open the passenger window, breathing in the crisp pre-dawn air. A bracing whiff of ocean salt fills your senses as you start to rouse.

"I know. It'll be worth it, cariño, promise. The sunrises are amazing here."

Another 20 minutes on this quiet road -- nobody else out driving at this hour -- until Frankie slowly rolls the truck to a stop and parks. You get out and stretch your tired limbs.

No streetlights here, no moon, and the stars are mostly washed out at this hour, but you can hear the surf just steps away, lightly lapping at a shore that you can't see. You curse your crappy night vision, knowing that Frankie has the edge in seeing through dim lighting, with all the night flying and navigation he's done over his years in the service.

"We still have some time before the sunrise," Frankie says, giving you a hug and feeling you shiver. You sigh into his hug, and he rests his chin on the top of your head for a minute or two. "Come on, let's wait inside. I've got blankets in the back seat."

You both climb into the back seat of the truck, and he unfolds a crazy-looking 1970s-style afghan.

"Where did you get this thing? Standard military issue?"

"Don't be mean," Frankie laughs, wrapping the blanket around you both and snuggling in. "My abuela made it for me a long time ago."

"Does she know it's your truck sex blanket?"

Frankie shuffles closer, sliding a hand up your chest and around your neck to pull your face close. "I've never used it for that." He kisses a whisper against your mouth. "Yet."

As you make out, slow and sweet, Frankie presses you further into the corner of the seat until you feel something dig into your side. It's the shoulder seatbelt and as you push it out of the way, you're surprised at how soft and silky it feels, like some luxury fabric instead of an industrial strip of webbing, and you stroke it with your hand.

"Aftermarket belts," Frankie says, watching you with a pleased expression. "The stock ones were too scratchy and uncomfortable."

"Too scratchy? That sounds like a made-up problem."

Frankie smirks. "I like my passengers to be comfortable." He slides a hand slowly down your body, his knuckles gently tracing your curves, his palm coming to rest over your center, already heated from the make-out session. "Would you like me to make you more comfortable?"

"Mmmm, yes please," you purr, kissing him more forcefully this time, nipping his lips and searching for his tongue with yours. You find it, tangle with it, suck it into your mouth, so focused on the kiss that you don't even notice he's holding your forearm and has gently wrapped the webbing of the shoulder belt around it twice.

He pauses, breaking the kiss and allowing you a second to check what he's doing. "Is this okay?"

"Very okay," you breathe against his mouth, unsure exactly what he'll do to you once you're restrained but eager to find out. He'd discovered early on in your relationship that restraints were something you liked, and he loved to indulge you. "Keep going."

--click--

Frankie smiles as he slots the latch into the seatbelt buckle and locks it into place.

The webbing is soft against your skin, and a little loose when you give it an experimental tug. "Tighter," you rasp, excitement growing fast. He adjusts the tension with the built-in clip until it's perfect for you.

You snake your free hand into his hair, already desperate to touch what you can and desperate to get your mouth on his again. He allows you to tug on his curls as you kiss, but only for a moment. His hand grabs your free forearm, forcefully this time, and pins it to the back of the seat.

"None of that," he tuts gently, wrapping the other side's shoulder belt around it. "We came here to see the sunrise, remember? Don't have much time."

--click--

"But Frankie..." you whine, testing the pull of the seatbelts and finding no slack. "I wanna feel you."

What was the line between obsession and fetish? It was something you often wondered about. His hair, his medium-brown hair that loosely curled and held shimmering flecks of silver, drove you absolutely mad. Every time you met up the very first thing you did was bury your fingers in it, the tips of the curls spiky on your palms, feeding some sort of physiochemical need you couldn't name and didn't really care to. Not being able to sate that need in this moment made you physically ache.

The seatbelt was wrapped around your forearm with the intention to let you slip out of it easily enough if you had to. But did you want to? Cravings are strong, but the deliciousness of prolonging the ache even stronger, and at this moment you don't know which you want more. The anticipation never felt so good.

Frankie senses your turmoil. He sits back and makes eye contact in the growing light, and runs a hand slowly through his hair. He even plumps the curls at his nape and fluffs one long curl that's fallen over his forehead, smiling innocently. You know he can see your fingers twitching. Bastard.

"Something wrong, cariño?" he smirks, and you can't hold back a whimper as you feel yourself clench around absolutely nothing.

"Francisco, you're a fucking menace."

"I know, I know," he soothes. "And you love it, don't you?" He leans forward and shakes his hair right into your face, but before you can swear at him some more, his curls are gently stroking your collarbone that's naked and exposed by your low-cut sundress. You whimper again, this time a pathetically needy sound, and he takes pity on you and caresses his hair over your bound forearms and hands, the ache in your fingers abating from finally, finally reaching some kind of goal.

"There you go, that's it," croons Frankie, kissing your skin swelling out between the webbing, moving down your arm and up to your shoulder. "Just a taste for you. More later. I want mine now."

In a single movement he hikes up the hem of your sundress with one hand and lifts your hip, and slides the other hand down the back of your underwear to pull them down your legs and off. Gripping a bare ankle in each hand, he spreads your legs as wide as he knows is comfortable for you. You feel split open, exposed and excited, and he's barely touched you yet.

The light is so dim that his eyes are in shadow for you, but you know they're wide and dark as his gaze takes you in, his face so close to your center you can feel his breath on your inner thighs.

"Can you see enough to work down there?"

"Of course," says Frankie, sounding almost insulted as he gently shifts your hips to pull you closer to his mouth. "I'm used to flying before sunrise. You know, I can land almost anywhere, in any terrain, because..."

You groan, knowing what's coming. "No, please... no aviation jokes..."

"...I'm a certified bush pilot." He snickers into your thigh, kissing it hard to try to mask his laughter.

"Bush pilot, really? That better not be a complaint about my wild foliage or something."

One of the things he had made clear early in your relationship, in his quiet and unassuming way, was that your grooming habits and preferences were none of his damn business. A refreshing attitude after years of dating men who had lots of unsolicited and unwanted opinions about your pubic hair and how they wanted you to maintain it. As if it existed just for them. Fuck that. Frankie never tried to change you -- he simply adapted to whatever was. One of the reasons why you adored him.

"Oh no, cariño," Frankie's voice drops deep in that way you know he's genuinely serious. "I fucking love your bush." He lowers his face to your mound and gently tugs a few hairs between his teeth. You hiss at the prickly feeling, sharp but not painful, slipping into a loud cry as he dives his tongue deep into your entrance to eagerly prove his point.

You'd never been with someone who loved pussy eating as much as him. Maybe it mirrored your obsession-sorta-fetish for his hair. Impeccable sexual compatibility, you and Frankie.

It's different each time, and this extra-early morning he explores every fold with his tongue, his lips, his teeth, scratching the surfaces and then delving deeper. He doesn't even need to look up at you to know that your eyes are shut despite the dark and that you're lost in feeling.

Every change in your breathing, the tenor and pitch of your sighs and moans, the little wiggle of your hips when his tongue flicks here instead of there. Those are the cues he looks for and the only ones he needs, and he quickly takes you as high as you can go and stays with you all the way back down.

Frankie is relentless, barely giving you time to recover before latching back onto your clit, nudging you past your overstimulation, somehow knowing just how much extra you can take. He always knows.

You barely catch your breath before he's absolutely devouring you again, lightly capturing your folds between his teeth and exploring each one as if he's kissing your mouth for the first time, moving his head to approach your center from every possible angle from his confined position and adjusting his hold on your thighs to match.

He gently slides a thick finger inside you. The stretch is a lot, it always is with him, and he lets you adjust to it before adding a second finger, and presses them as far up as they'll go, his callused fingertips teasing the edge of your most sensitive spot.

Your hips start to move of their own accord but his free hand holds you down as he keeps his fingers inside you right where they are, demanding you concentrate on feeling the pressure and stretch instead of seeking motion.

From above he almost chews on your clit, which you never considered to be a thing you'd like but you are suddenly now forever feral for, and you wiggle your hips as much as you can, desperate to get him exactly where you need him most, giving only one fleeting thought to anyone else parked at the end of this road who might be hearing your loud moans right now.

With his tongue and his fingers he holds you in that sweet limbo state, your conscious mind wanting it to go on forever but your body craving release. You can't choose which one you want more, until you see the first rays of the sun peek out over the horizon and it distracts your mind just enough for your body to fall over the crest again, louder and more intense this time, gushing and squeezing and fluttering around his fingers until he slowly pulls them out.

You were so blissed out that you never noticed Frankie had been pressing and rubbing his crotch against the floor, the seat, whatever he could find while he was eating you out. The back seat of the truck is quickly filling with light and you watch him unzip his jeans just enough to pull out his cock, hard and leaking.

If you weren't so zoned out, if he just gave you a few minutes to recover, you'd be happy to help him, but he's too impatient and fucks his fist with sloppy motions. It's a hypnotic sight, the pinkish tip peeking out between his thick fingers and then disappearing for a second in a desperate rhythm, and you slide your hands free from the seatbelts just in time to grab his hair and give the curls a hard pull, seconds before he comes in hot spurts across your thighs and swollen cunt, choking out a cry that again made you glad he had brought you to this beach so early in the day.

Thankfully, he didn't get any on the blanket. You shake it out and wrap it around both of you as he snuggles up beside you on the seat.

"Good?"

"Good. Very good."

"Yeah."

Your breaths gradually slow as you watch the fireball in the sky inch higher, your hand mindlessly finding his hair and repeatedly twisting a curl around your finger.

The truck cab finally fills with full daylight, showing you an inviting and isolated strip of beach, and no other vehicles. Frankie was right -- it was worth getting up early for this sunrise. And it was amazing.

"Frankie?"

"Mmmmm?"

"Tell me more about what it takes to be a bush pilot."

[katw474]

You can’t tell me this isn’t Frankie through the last 15 years.

@rhoorl @goodwithcheese @legendary-pink-dot @theywhowriteandknowthings @thetriumphantpanda @foralongtime @secretelephanttattoo

[theetherealbloom]

Don't Stop Talking To Me, And Maybe Stay Here Forever

Summary: You join Pedro Pascal in Morocco while he’s filming Gladiator 2. Between the beauty of the Moroccan landscape, the two of you share intimate moments, from quiet rooftop dinners to playful photo-taking and teasing with the cast.

Or… “I'll hold you, I'll know you. I'll never leave out the back door. And I'd love to complete you, hope you get all you could ask for.”

I just read your latest pedro fic it was the BEST DAMN THING i’ve ever read, my heart is going to burst out of my chest from all the butterflies 🦋🫠❤️ will you write more for pedro? perhaps his gf could visit him in marocco or something while he’s filming gladiator and to meet everyone from set and maybe have some alone quality time? :3 just a suggestion 😌 anyways have a lovely dayyy ^^ — anon

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Established Relationship, Age-Gap(ish), TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Slight Angst, Swearing, Anxiety, Cheesy Dialogue, Cuddling, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Social Media, Embarrassment, Teasing, Shower, Slight Nudity, Make Out Session, Celebrities

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: Okay, so, we’ve all seen the photo dumps!??!! Yes! GREAT! I haven’t watched Gladiator 2 cause it isn’t out yet in my country, so there’ll be no spoilers here mhmhmhmhm. I’m just gonna make stuff up based on the pictures Pedro posted on his Instagram lol. And again, this is all made-up, fictional, self-indulgent vibes so pls no one come after me ahhhhhh T^T

Also lowkey, I can see multiple parts to this so… stay tuned.

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!

Songs: Packing It Up by Gracie Abrams, this is how you fall in love by Jeremy Zucker and Chelsea Cutler

gif by @a7estrellas

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OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO — DAY

The warm Moroccan breeze kissed your skin as you stepped onto the bustling set of Gladiator 2. Pedro’s laughter echoed from somewhere nearby, his distinct voice easy to pick out over the hum of activity. Your heart swelled just hearing it. He was always magnetic, but here—working, immersed in a world of creativity and camaraderie—he was luminous.  

You adjusted your sunglasses, feeling both excited and slightly anxious. Meeting Pedro’s castmates felt like stepping into his other life, one where you weren’t the center of his world but a welcome visitor orbiting it. He’d reassured you endlessly. “They’ll love you. I mean, how could they not?” But still, nerves lingered.  

“Mi amor!” Pedro’s voice cut through your thoughts. He emerged from behind a cluster of tents, his smile so wide it could eclipse the Moroccan sun.  

“Hey, stranger.” You grinned, letting him sweep you into a tight hug.  

He pulled back just enough to press a kiss to your forehead, his arms still firmly around your waist. “You made it,” he whispered, his lips brushing your temple.  

“Of course, I made it,” you teased, tilting your head to look up at him. “I missed you too much to stay away.”  

The day unfolded in bursts of joy.  

Pedro introduced you to Coco Ullrich, Paul Mescal, and the rest of the cast. Everyone was warm and welcoming, their teasing camaraderie quickly drawing you in. Pedro stayed close, his hand finding yours at every opportunity, like he couldn’t stand to be too far away.  

Later, you found yourself perched on a stool in the makeup trailer, Pedro sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of you. “Hold still,” you said, trying to fix his disheveled hair.  

Coco stood nearby, laughing as Pedro playfully swatted at your hands. “I’m serious, guapo! You’ll go out there looking like you just rolled out of bed.”  

“Maybe I did roll out of bed,” he quipped, grinning.  

You raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t, but if you keep squirming, I’m going to make sure you look like it.”  

Coco shook her head, still laughing. “I don’t know how you put up with him.”  

“I have my ways,” you said, giving Pedro a mock glare.  

Pedro leaned closer, his eyes softening. “You’re lucky I love you,” he murmured, his lips brushing yours before you could stop him.  

“Pedro!” you protested, laughing as he pulled you into a full kiss, distracting you from your task.  

“Hopeless,” Coco muttered, snapping a quick photo of the moment.  

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO — SUNSET

The Moroccan sunset painted the sky in hues of gold and rose as you, Pedro, and the cast settled onto the soft blankets laid out for an impromptu picnic. The sprawling desert seemed to stretch infinitely, its serene stillness a striking contrast to the chaotic energy of the set. A light breeze rustled through the palm trees in the distance, carrying the faint sound of laughter and the clinking of glasses.

Pedro sat behind you, his arms comfortably wrapped around your waist as you leaned back into his chest. His fingertips absentmindedly traced small, lazy circles on your bare skin where your shirt had ridden up slightly. It was a touch that grounded you, soothing and sweet, and yet it made your heart ache with affection.

“This is perfect,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it louder might shatter the fragile beauty of the moment.

Pedro leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear. “No, you’re perfect,” he said softly, his voice laced with adoration.

You turned your head to look at him, catching the warmth in his gaze. He looked at you like you hung the very stars above, and your cheeks flushed. “Cheesy,” you teased, though you couldn’t keep the smile off your face.

“Honest,” he countered, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. His nose nudged yours affectionately, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you.

Paul Mescal, lounging nearby with a bottle of something cold in his hand, cleared his throat dramatically. “Alright, lovebirds, can you save the smoldering for the cameras? Some of us are trying to enjoy the sunset without third-wheeling your Notebook audition.”

Coco Ullrich snorted from her spot on the blanket, where she was busy assembling a makeshift charcuterie board. “Please, Paul, don’t act like you’re not taking notes for your own love scenes.”

Paul shot her a deadpan look. “What’s there to take notes on? I’m already perfect.”

“Debatable,” Coco quipped, popping a grape into her mouth and grinning.  

Pedro chuckled, his chest rumbling against your back. “Paul, don’t be jealous. You already found someone who tolerates you.”  

“Oh, I’m not jealous,” Paul said, gesturing between you and Pedro. “I’m inspired. The level of clinginess you two have achieved—it’s an art form.”  

“Clinginess?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.  

“Yes, clinginess,” Paul said, smirking. “He hasn’t let go of you since you got here. It’s like watching a koala in human form.”

Coco leaned in conspiratorially. “Do you think he’d survive a day without her?”  

“Doubtful,” Paul replied, his tone grave.  

Pedro shook his head, his arms tightening around you playfully. “Let them joke,” he said into your ear, his voice a low murmur. “They’re just bitter they don’t have their partners to hold them while they complain about the heat.”  

You turned your head slightly to whisper back, “I think they’re projecting.”  

Pedro laughed, loud and unabashed, and the sound sent warmth flooding through you.  

“Alright, enough roasting Pedro,” Coco said, waving her hands. “Let’s focus on the important stuff—like this cheese board I’m absolutely nailing.”

“Coco, you put a block of cheese next to some crackers,” Paul pointed out.  

“And yet, it’s still better than anything you’ve contributed,” she shot back.

You couldn’t help but laugh as they continued to bicker, the dynamic between the cast a perfect blend of teasing and genuine affection. It felt good to be a part of this world for a little while, to see Pedro in his element and to share these small, beautiful moments with the people who meant so much to him.  

As the sun dipped lower, painting the sky with deeper hues of crimson and violet, Pedro shifted slightly behind you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You doing okay, sweetheart?” he asked softly, his voice meant just for you.

“I’m better than okay,” you said, turning your face to his. “This is one of those moments I’ll never forget.”

“Same,” he replied, his eyes searching yours. “But mostly because you’re here.”

Paul groaned from across the blanket. “Seriously, someone hand me a bucket. I can’t handle this level of sap.”

“You’re just missing Gracie,” Coco teased, tossing a cracker at Paul with a sly grin.  

Paul caught it mid-air with a dramatic flourish. “She’s the love of my life, thank you very much. I’m thriving, just long-distance thriving.” His wide smile softened slightly, a dreamy look crossing his face.  

Pedro chuckled, resting his chin on your shoulder as he held you closer. “See, even Paul can be romantic. It’s not just us being disgustingly in love.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Paul said, waving him off, though the grin never left his face. “But you two are setting the bar impossibly high. Stop making the rest of us look bad.”

Coco shook her head with mock exasperation. “Let’s face it, no one can compete with Pedro’s clingy koala act.”  

“Hey, it’s not clingy if it’s mutual,” you chimed in, leaning back into Pedro’s embrace.  

“Exactly!” Pedro said, kissing the side of your neck for emphasis. “This is just... efficient affection.”  

“Efficient affection?” Coco repeated, laughing so hard she nearly knocked over the cheese board. “That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard.”

Pedro shrugged, utterly unbothered, his lips brushing your temple as he murmured, “Don’t let them ruin this for us.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you whispered back, tilting your head to press a soft kiss to his jaw.  

The first stars began to dot the darkening sky, their glow faint but steady against the fading hues of gold and rose. The laughter of the group blended with the soothing whisper of the desert breeze, wrapping the evening in a cocoon of warmth and love.

You let out a contented sigh, your fingers intertwining with Pedro’s. These moments—filled with jokes, tenderness, and the quiet magic of a Moroccan sunset—were the kind you knew you’d carry with you forever.

THE NEXT DAY

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO – AFTERNOON  

The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting warm golden light over the sprawling desert set. The faint hum of activity outside the large tent provided a calming backdrop as you and Pedro sat together, stealing a moment away from the chaos of production.  

Pedro’s lap had become your designated resting place, his arms wrapped snugly around your waist as you leaned into him. You had been quietly chatting about the day—how stunning the desert looked on camera, how Paul had stolen one of Coco’s snacks during a break—when the warmth of the afternoon began to lull you both into sleep.  

His hand moved lazily up and down your back, the motion soothing as his voice grew quieter, more relaxed. “You know,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple, “this might be my favorite part of the day.”  

“Falling asleep during work?” you teased, your voice soft and playful.  

“Falling asleep with you,” he corrected, his smile audible in his words.  

It wasn’t long before exhaustion claimed you both, your head tucked under his chin and his cheek resting against your hair. The quiet hum of the tent became a comforting cocoon, and time seemed to stretch and blur.  

The sound of muffled laughter stirred you from sleep, pulling you out of the warm haze. You blinked against the light, realizing you were still tucked into Pedro’s chest, his arms holding you close even as he began to wake.  

“Don’t move,” a familiar voice called. You turned your head to see Paul Mescal standing a few feet away, phone in hand, his grin wide and mischievous.  

Next to him, Coco Ullrich smirked as she aimed her phone at the two of you. “We’re documenting history here. You’ll thank us later.”  

Pedro stirred, squinting at them through his grogginess. “Seriously?” His voice was raspy, a mix of sleep and disbelief.  

Paul shrugged, grinning even wider as he showed Pedro the photo. “We couldn’t resist. Look at this. It’s like a promo poster for the most annoyingly sweet rom-com ever.”  

Pedro glanced at the photo, then at you, and laughed softly. “We should use that for the holiday cards this year.”  

You groaned, burying your face in his chest. “This is so embarrassing. They’re never going to let us live this down.”  

Coco laughed, flipping through her photos. “Oh, it’s way too late for that. I’m sending this to the group chat and the PR team. They’ll love it.”  

“Please don’t,” you pleaded, your voice muffled against Pedro’s shirt.  

Paul tilted his head dramatically. “Why not? It’s just a little fun. Besides, you two are giving us all cavities with how sweet you are. We’re suffering.”  

Pedro smirked, holding you a little tighter. “You’re suffering? Sounds like a personal problem.”  

“Alright, alright, enough!” A gravelly voice interrupted, and you looked up to see Ridley Scott standing at the edge of the tent. His hands were on his hips, but the amused twinkle in his eye gave him away.  

“Ridley,” you started, your cheeks flushing with heat. “I’m so sorry—”  

He held up a hand to stop you, his smirk growing. “Don’t apologize. If anything, I should thank you. Pedro’s been suspiciously well-behaved since you arrived. But,” he added with a pointed glance at Pedro, “if this keeps up, we’ll have to rename the film The Gladiator and the Muse. Production’s going to take twice as long.”  

The crew burst into laughter, and you buried your face back in Pedro’s chest, groaning. “This is officially the most embarrassing moment of my life.”  

Pedro chuckled, his hand brushing gently over your back. “Embarrassing? Nah. You’re the best thing about being here.”  

You peeked up at him, your cheeks still warm, and saw the sincerity in his eyes. “You mean that?”  

“Every word,” he said, his voice soft. “You make everything easier, better… you make it all worth it.”  

Your heart swelled, and a small smile broke through your embarrassment. “Okay,” you whispered. “I’ll try to believe you.”  

“Believe me,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.  

Paul groaned, breaking the tender moment. “Someone get a camera crew. We’re turning this into a reality show. Lovebirds in the Desert.”  

Pedro laughed, finally standing and pulling you to your feet. “Careful, Paul. You might not survive the sequel.”  

Ridley clapped his hands, his voice carrying over the lingering laughter. “Alright, lovebirds, enough stalling. Let’s get back to work! Pedro, we’ve got a fight scene to shoot.”  

Pedro gave you one last reassuring smile before winking. “Don’t go far. I’ll need more luck soon.”  

You nodded, watching him head back to set, and felt a sense of warmth that no amount of teasing could dampen. As you stepped out of the tent, the desert sun shining overhead, you knew this moment—this strange, beautiful mix of chaos and love—was one you’d carry with you forever.

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO – EVENING  

The rooftop restaurant was like something out of a dream. Lanterns hung delicately from wrought iron fixtures, casting warm, flickering light over the table as the sun dipped below the horizon. The air was cool but pleasant, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from a nearby garden. Below, the city of Marrakech stretched out in an intricate maze of rooftops and twinkling lights, the hum of life soft and distant.  

Pedro had arranged everything, from the secluded corner table to the small vase of your favorite flowers waiting when you arrived. He always had a way of making even the simplest moments feel like magic.  

“Look at this view,” you murmured, leaning against the wrought iron railing as the sky turned from gold to a deep, dusky pink.  

Pedro stood close behind you, his hand resting gently on the small of your back. “The view’s got nothing on you,” he said softly, the teasing lilt in his voice balanced by the sincerity in his eyes.  

You laughed, shaking your head as you turned to face him. “That’s a terrible line.”  

“Maybe,” he admitted, grinning as he pulled out his phone. “But it’s true. Hold still.”  

Before you could protest, he snapped a photo, catching you mid-laugh as you tried to dodge the camera. “Pedro!” you groaned, your cheeks warming.  

He chuckled, looking at the photo with a self-satisfied smile. “Perfect. Might frame this one.”  

“Stop it,” you said, trying to grab the phone from him, but he held it out of reach, his grin only widening.  

“Never,” he replied, his free hand reaching across the table to take yours. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, and his gaze softened. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”  

Your stomach fluttered at the way he said it—no teasing this time, just quiet, earnest affection.  

“Now you’re just being unfair,” you muttered, trying to hide your blush.  

Pedro leaned forward, his head tilting slightly as if to study you closer. “Not unfair. Just honest.”  

You rolled your eyes playfully, but your heart was pounding. In a bid to regain some ground, you grabbed your own phone and quickly snapped a picture of him just as he brought your hand to his lips. The resulting photo was unfairly good—his lashes long, the lantern light catching the gold in his eyes, the softness in his expression making your chest ache.  

“Got you,” you said triumphantly, holding up the phone.  

Pedro laughed, his thumb brushing over your knuckles again as he met your gaze. “Now we’re even?”  

“Now we’re even,” you confirmed, though your grin gave away how smug you felt.  

The waiter arrived with dessert just then—a delicate plate of Moroccan pastries accompanied by a small bowl of honey and almonds. You both leaned forward at the same time, reaching for the same pastry, and burst into laughter when your fingers brushed.  

“Go ahead,” Pedro said, gesturing gallantly.  

“Such a gentleman,” you teased, breaking off a piece of the pastry and dipping it into the honey. You held it up to his lips, your pulse skipping when he leaned in without hesitation.  

“Delicious,” he said, his voice low and warm. “But I think it tastes better coming from you.”  

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, trying to suppress a smile as you took a bite yourself. The flaky pastry melted on your tongue, its sweetness perfectly balanced by the honey.  

As you shared the dessert, your conversation drifted from playful teasing to the little things that filled your days. Pedro told you about a funny moment on set earlier when Paul had forgotten his lines and improvised something so absurd even Ridley couldn’t stop laughing.  

“And then,” Pedro continued, his grin infectious, “he tried to blame me, saying my face was too distracting.”  

“Well, he’s not wrong,” you teased, earning a dramatic roll of Pedro’s eyes.  

“Oh, so now you’re on his side?”  

“I’m on the side of the truth,” you said, popping an almond into your mouth.  

Pedro chuckled, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”  

Your smile softened, and you leaned your chin on your hand as you looked at him. “Probably still charming everyone who crosses your path.”  

“Not like this,” he said, his tone suddenly serious. He reached across the table again, his fingers lacing with yours. “You make everything better. You make me better.”  

Your throat tightened at the rawness in his voice, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, his words settling deep in your chest.  

“You do the same for me,” you said quietly.  

The soft music playing in the background faded into the hum of the city as the two of you sat there, the world narrowing to just this moment. Pedro brought your hand to his lips again, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before resting your joined hands on the table.  

As the night stretched on, the two of you continued to talk about everything and nothing—your favorite childhood memories, the places you wanted to visit together, the little quirks you loved about each other.  

When it was time to leave, Pedro stood and extended a hand to help you up. “One last picture before we go?” he asked, his phone already in hand.  

You nodded, letting him pull you into his side. The lanterns glowed softly behind you as he kissed your cheek just as the camera clicked.  

Looking at the photo, you smiled. It was perfect—just like this night, just like him. 

L’HÔTEL MARRAKECH, MOROCCO – EVENING

The golden hues of the evening sun had long faded, leaving the hotel suite illuminated only by the soft glow of warm, ambient lighting. Laughter filled the room, bubbling up between stolen glances and playful teasing. Pedro leaned against the edge of the plush sofa, his hand resting casually on his hip as you doubled over with giggles at another one of his overly dramatic impressions. 

“I’m just saying,” he said with a grin, holding up his hands in mock innocence. “If anyone here is getting an Oscar for Most Entertaining Human, it’s me.”

You rolled your eyes, swatting at him lightly. “You? Entertaining? Please. You’re just lucky I think you’re cute.”

“Just cute?” he teased, his voice dropping into a low, mock-hurt murmur. He stepped closer, tilting his head. “That’s disappointing.”

And just like that, with no warning, he took your hand and spun you gently into his arms. There was no music, no sound but the faint rustle of the curtains and the muted hum of life outside your window. But to Pedro, there was no need for anything more. 

“Dance with me,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, pulling you flush against him.

“Pedro,” you started to protest, but the way he was looking at you—so earnest, so unguarded—stole the words from your lips. He rested his forehead against yours, his arms wrapping around you like he was afraid to let go. 

“You are the reason I can breathe,” he murmured. His voice cracked slightly, raw and unfiltered. “The reason I can survive.”

Your chest tightened, and your hands gripped the soft cotton of his shirt as you closed your eyes. Slowly, the two of you began to sway, side to side, as if the universe itself had orchestrated this silent melody just for you.

“Pedro,” you whispered, tears threatening to spill as the weight of his words sank deep into your soul. “You don’t have to—”

“Shh.” He cut you off gently, his lips brushing the crown of your head. “I want to. You’re my safe place.”

Together, you moved as one, the world outside forgotten. The phones were switched off, the curtains drawn, and for a moment, it felt like time had ceased to exist. All that mattered was this—his arms around you, your head resting on his chest, and the way his heartbeat felt steady and strong beneath your cheek.

“What’s easy is right,” you whispered suddenly, echoing words your mother had once said. The truth of it struck you in that moment, how being with Pedro never felt like a choice—it was instinct. Like breathing. Like coming home. 

Pedro smiled, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “What’s easy is right,” he repeated softly. “Then I guess it’s easy to know... I’m going to love you forever.”

You laughed softly, though the lump in your throat made it difficult. “Forever’s a long time.”

He tilted your chin up, his warm, brown eyes crinkling at the corners with a quiet joy. “Not nearly long enough,” he said, his voice a low promise. “You’ll be my best friend until we’re old and gray. And even then, I’ll still love you.”

There was something in the way he said it—so simple, so sure—that your knees nearly gave out. But as always, Pedro was there, holding you steady, keeping you close. 

This is how you fall in love, you realized. Not in a blaze of fireworks, but in the quiet moments where you let go and they hold you up. 

“Do you know what you’ve done to me?” Pedro said after a long silence, his voice filled with wonder. “You make my stomach ache with hope. You make my hands stop shaking. I wake up smiling now, and it’s because of you.”

You bit your lip, your fingers tracing lazy patterns across his chest. “Pedro…”

“No, listen to me,” he insisted, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Love isn’t supposed to be heavy. It’s not supposed to hurt. It’s supposed to be this. Us. A safe place. A hand to hold through every storm.”

His words broke something open inside you, and you nodded, letting the tears spill over. “You’re my safe place too,” you whispered. “You make me believe I deserve this.”

Pedro pulled you closer, resting his chin on the top of your head as he swayed you gently. “You deserve everything,” he murmured. “Every laugh, every sunrise, every stupid little joke I’ll tell for the next fifty years.”

You both laughed softly, the sound mingling with the quiet hum of the room. The world outside could wait. For now, all that mattered was this moment—this love that was soft, steady, and unshakable.

Right from your hips to your cuticles, you were everything to him, and he was everything to you. Wherever you both went, it was heaven. And neither of you ever wanted to leave. 

Steam filled the bathroom, the warmth clinging to the mirrors and wrapping around the two of you like a soft cocoon. Pedro stood under the cascade of water, droplets running down his broad shoulders and soaking his messy curls. His eyes flicked toward you, a tender smile tugging at his lips as you stepped closer, your fingers gently reaching for the shampoo bottle.  

“Turn around,” you said softly, motioning for him to face away from you.  

“Yes, ma’am,” he teased, though there was a hint of shyness in his voice as he obeyed.  

You lathered the shampoo between your hands, your touch careful and affectionate as you worked it into his hair. His curls were soft and damp beneath your fingers, the grays glinting like silver in the dim light.  

“I love your hair,” you murmured, your voice reverent.  

Pedro let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle, tilting his head back slightly. “The gray makes me look old.”  

You paused, your hands stilling in his hair as you leaned around to catch his gaze. “Stop that. It doesn’t make you look old; it makes you look distinguished. And I happen to love every single one of these.” You tugged playfully at a curl for emphasis.  

He gave you a sheepish look, his lips twitching as he fought back a pout. “You’re just saying that because you’re stuck with me.”  

“Stuck with you?” you repeated, feigning outrage. “Oh, no, Pedro. I chose you—gray hair and all. And I’d choose you again. Every single day.”  

His pout softened into a smile, one so genuine it made your chest ache. “You’re too good to me,” he murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple.  

“And you deserve it,” you countered firmly, finishing his hair with a rinse.  

When it was your turn, Pedro insisted on returning the favor, his hands gentle as he massaged the conditioner into your hair. His touch lingered, his fingers tracing the nape of your neck as he marveled at you.  

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick with sincerity.  

“Even covered in soap?” you teased, feeling heat creep up your cheeks.  

“Especially covered in soap,” he replied, leaning down to steal a kiss.  

The shower ended with a flurry of soft laughter and playful splashes, the two of you wrapped in towels as you padded into the bedroom. Pedro pulled on a pair of boxers while you slipped into one of his oversized shirts, the hem brushing the tops of your thighs.  

The two of you slipped into bed, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm, golden light over the room. The air smelled faintly of the lavender lotion you’d rubbed on your hands, mingling with the subtle hint of Pedro’s cologne that still lingered on his skin. He had one arm draped lazily over your waist, his other hand holding a book he’d claimed to be interested in, though his wandering eyes betrayed him.

A book rested in your lap, too, but you’d long given up on reading. Instead, you could feel his gaze flickering to you, watching you more than the words on his page. It was endearing, the way he thought you wouldn’t notice, how he never grew tired of studying you like he’d never quite figure you out.  

“You’re not reading,” you finally accused, peeking at him over the edge of your book.  

Pedro grinned, unabashed. He set his book down on the nightstand and scooted closer, leaning his head on the pillow beside you. “Can you blame me?” he said, his voice soft and teasing. His hand reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his knuckles grazing your cheek. “I’ve got the most beautiful view right here.”  

You rolled your eyes, trying to fight the warmth rising in your cheeks, but the smile that stretched across your lips betrayed you. “You’re ridiculous,” you murmured, nudging him lightly with your elbow.  

“And yet, you love me,” he replied with mock arrogance, leaning back against the headboard with a self-satisfied smirk.  

“Unfortunately for me,” you quipped, though your tone was dripping with affection.  

Pedro’s laugh filled the room, low and warm, wrapping around you like a blanket. You settled back into your spot, his arm tightening slightly around your waist, anchoring you to him. For a while, there was only the sound of pages turning and the occasional creak of the bed as one of you shifted.  

Eventually, the books were forgotten, abandoned on the nightstand as the room grew darker, the soft click of the lamp switch plunging you into the comforting glow of moonlight spilling through the curtains.  

Lying side by side, your head resting on Pedro’s chest, you let your fingers trace lazy patterns along the bare skin of his arm. But your mind wouldn’t quiet, and as the minutes stretched on, the thoughts bubbling inside you demanded to be voiced.  

“Okay, but really,” you began, your voice breaking the comfortable silence. “Why is ‘llama’ spelled with two L’s? Wouldn’t one be enough? It’s not like we say ‘Llama-la.’”  

Pedro let out a soft laugh, the sound rumbling through his chest beneath your cheek. He tilted his head down to look at you, his lips quirking into a smile. “Mi amor, I adore you, but it’s almost midnight. Go to sleep.”  

“I can’t until I solve this mystery,” you said with mock determination, lifting your head to look at him.  

He sighed dramatically, feigning exasperation. “Fine. Maybe the second ‘L’ is there to confuse aliens.”  

You gasped, sitting up slightly. “That makes so much sense! Like, imagine aliens judging us for eating cereal with milk.”  

Pedro chuckled again, his arm tightening around you to keep you close. “Cereal with milk is sacred,” he said, his voice heavy with playful conviction. “If aliens have an issue with that, I’ll fight them myself.”  

You grinned, turning to prop yourself up on your elbow so you could face him fully. “Okay, serious question. If you could ask someone anything and be guaranteed the truth, who would it be?”  

Pedro cracked one eye open, his other hand lazily resting on your hip. “I’d ask you why you’re so determined to keep me awake,” he deadpanned, his lips twitching with a suppressed smile.  

You laughed, nudging him with your elbow. “I’m serious!”  

“Alright, alright,” he relented, the mirth in his eyes softening as he considered your question. “I’d ask my third-grade teacher if she really lost my homework or if she just didn’t like me.”  

You burst out laughing, the sound muffled by the way you buried your face into his chest. “That’s what you’d waste your question on?”  

“Don’t judge me,” he said with mock indignation, his fingers trailing absent patterns on your back. “It’s haunted me for years.”  

Your laughter subsided into a warm giggle as you tilted your head up to look at him. “Fine. My turn. I’d ask my mom if she’s proud of me. Like… really proud. Not just the ‘I’m your mom, so I have to say it’ kind of proud.”  

Pedro’s hand stilled on your back, his gaze softening as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “She’s proud of you, baby,” he murmured against your skin. “And so am I. Always.”  

The weight of his words wrapped around your heart, a comforting balm that eased the ache of self-doubt. You nuzzled closer, your fingers curling around his as you let the quiet stretch between you for a moment.  

Moments later, you broke the silence again, your voice a whisper in the dark. “When I was little, I thought my toys came alive when I wasn’t looking. Like Toy Story. Honestly, I still kinda think they do.”  

Pedro let out a deep laugh, his chest shaking beneath you as he pulled you even closer. “I wouldn’t put it past them,” he said, his voice warm with amusement. “Your stuffed bunny? Definitely a troublemaker.”  

You giggled, your heart feeling impossibly light as his hand returned to its slow, soothing patterns on your back.  

The conversation drifted into comfortable nonsense, the kind of midnight musings that didn’t need to make sense but brought a certain kind of intimacy only shared in the quiet hours of the night.  

Finally, as your eyelids grew heavy and your words faded into murmurs, Pedro pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. “Goodnight, mi amor,” he whispered, his voice soft and steady.  

In his arms, with the world outside forgotten, you felt safe. Loved. His heartbeat was the only rhythm you needed as you drifted into sleep, a love like no other holding you steady through the night.

[legendary-pink-dot]

His curls were so distracting overall but that one particular one was too much for my little heart to handle.

PEDRO PASCAL ⏤ The SAG-AFTRA Foundation Conversations series with Pedro Pascal, Billy Crudup, Matthew Macfadyen, and Kieran Culkin

[tcmmysheiby]

oh, loverboy - dbf!joel miller

authors note - listen, i love myself some pedro pascal but game!joel?? another level for me, ok. you can picture with either game!joel or show!joel, you do you. i haven't written in five years and i have come out of writing retirement just for this man. pls be kind to me!! any feedback is appreciated, especially as this is my first smut in so long and i'm used to writing about peaky blinders boys! feel free to send me asks, requests, whatever whatever u want

warnings - dbf!joel, afab, reader described as wearing a dress, dry humping, cheating (joel is married!!), joel takes readers underwear, reader is v horny and shameless about it, facesitting/riding (aka reader would kill joel irl), lots of dirty talk, pussy pronouns, brief female masturbation and brief mention of male masturbation, dryer is in the kitchen cause i'm british ok!!!, slight cum play but not really, use of the word slut, joel gets off on having just hair pulled at js, somewhat switch!joel towards the end but maybe not idk, semi-public sex, office sex, age gap (20 years, the rest is down to you)

word count - 8k.

You knew it was wrong to be besotted with your parent’s best friend, especially when he was a married man but how could you resist? Joel Miller did nothing to help your cause. 

He was polite, handsome and always walked around like he oozed confidence and could do whatever he wanted and no one would bat an eyelid.  His smile was enough to have you clenching your thighs during family meals and your fingers stuffed deep in your pussy the very same night as you dreamed of what else that mouth could do. It was a long, tortuous, heavenly roundabout that you were stuck on and frankly, you didn’t want to get off. 

What did you do in a previous life to deserve this? Why couldn’t you have met Joel in another life? A life where Joel and your dad didn’t meet every Saturday night to play card games and drink beer whilst discussing the latest game. A life where your mother and Joel’s wife, Charlotte, didn’t have spa nights and drink cheap fruity wine they got from the local store. You deserved more, you deserved better, you deserved Joel. 

You have been so good. You’d resisted him for years. You’d perfected your best, fake smile during every anniversary dinner, congratulated them as they announced the renewal of their vows, you’d helped his wife pick out her wedding dress alongside your mother, you’d done everything you were meant to do. When was it your turn? 

“What you thinkin’ bout, girl?” 

You dragged your eyes away from the kitchen window and over to Joel who stood in the doorway, halfway to the fridge before he stopped. How long had you been staring out the window at him? You had only come in here to check on your laundry, how long ago was that? Were you going crazy? 

“Nothin’, Joel,” you said softly, quickly glancing down at the dryer, only a few minutes left. “You and my dad havin’ a good time?” 

You nodded out the window and towards the car that Joel and your dad had been working on for almost six months now, they never seemed to get any further with their latest mechanical mission. On the lawn next to the drive sat your mother and Charlotte, both of them engrossed in conversation as they sipped on lemonade whilst basking in the Austin summer heat. You didn’t hate Charlotte exactly but you envied her and you didn’t know what was worse. You envied her pretty flowery dresses and long curled hair that always look elegant, her fingernails which were always painted a pretty light blue colour and perfectly maintained, envied the fact she slept next to Joel every night and probably didn’t realise how lucky she was. God, maybe you did hate her. 

“Be havin’ a damn better time when I don’t have to look at that car again, swear your dad buys the stupidest shit going,” he scoffed before opening the fridge and pulling out two beers, eyeing up the cheap brand your father had purchased. Joel then turned towards you, “Looks like something’s on your mind - “ he paused before the slight graze of a smirk morphed on his luscious face. “Or someone?” 

It was your turn to scoff, only yours came out uncomfortably loud. “N’ what’s that meant to mean?” 

“C’mon, charmin’ girl like you must have someone by now,” Joel questioned, an eyebrow arched as he stared over at you. Was he moving closer to you? No, it was your imagination. “Not seen ya’ with anyone since that lil boy you had back when you were twenty, what a fool he turned out to be.”

Yeah, a fool indeed. What a waste of time he turned out to be. 

“Tell me about it.”

“Nobody then?” Joel was definitely closer. Could your laundry please hurry up?

You took a quick look  at him briefly before smiling and shaking your head. You turned back towards the window, your back to him now. “We all ain’t lucky to be loved up like you, Joel. Boys my age, well…” 

“What’s wrong with 'em’, sweetheart? That guy turned you off men completely, huh?” 

“Well, they just ain’t my type, Mr. Miller…” You trailed off, you hadn’t called him that in many years. “I like men that are a bit older, ya know?” 

As soon as you finished your sentence, you felt Joel's presence behind you. 

This is what happened between the two of you. Nothing out of turn was ever said but there was a tension, an indescribable sends-you-crazy in the middle of the night, tension. You were adamant it was just you being delusional. You were twenty-years younger than Joel, he would never have any interest in you that way. Plus, your parents were his best friends. Oh, and he was married.

Were you some infatuated young woman who just couldn’t stop fantasising about her dad’s hot best friend? This was more than a fantasy though, this had been going on years. You’d spent endless nights with your hand tucked in between your thighs as you thought dirty things about him. Had mastered every excuse going as to why you couldn’t attend any of the Miller’s functions that Charlotte insisted on throwing. 

“Older?” Joel leaned across you to grab the bottle opener. Of all the places for your father to have left it, why did you have to be in front of it? You got a whiff of his aftershave and almost fell to your knees there. “What makes you like older men so much, huh?” 

“Just somethin’ about them, somethin’ special, somethin’ that makes me feel a lil’ bit naughty, you know?” What were you doing? Words came out of your mouth before you could even process what you were going to say. Joel being behind you, his arm brushing past your waist as he brought the bottle opener towards him. It was all too much, you couldn’t stop rambling but he looked so good, black t-shirt so tight and jeans fitting in all the right places. Did she tell him how good he looked all the time? “They got more experience, more knowledge, and know how to treat a lady right. Boys my age, they don’t know what they doin’. Boys at college showed me that, that’s why i’m wantin’ an older man, ya know? Want someone who ain’t gonna mess me around or throw me to side when someone prettier comes along.” 

“These city boys stupid if they throwin’ you to the side baby,” Joel purred, his breath hot on your neck. He looked down at you from where he stood, trying his hardest not to stare down your shirt. You always made it so difficult for him. “You have many boys in college?” 

Joel moved to your side and faced away from the window. He stared straight ahead as he placed one of the beer bottles down and brought the other to his lips. You stared directly at his wife as you tried not to imagine her husband bending you over the counter, dropping to his knees and using his mouth to eat your pussy from the back. She had no idea as she giggled alongside your mother, had no idea of the thoughts that had ruined your brain since hormones came to play. 

“They wanted me, I didn’t always give them the same attention back.” 

You took a step back at the sound of the dryer beeping, finally. You grabbed the washing basket you had discarded to the side and lowered yourself to both knees as you emptied your load of dry, clean washing into it. Maybe this wasn’t the best position to be in considering you only had to glance slightly to your right and make eye contact with Joel’s bulge. You weren't straining your back for no-one though. 

You felt your heart drop as Joel crouched down to your level besides you. The two of you were no longer in view of the window, nor the front door if anyone was to walk in. This felt wildly inappropriate, you loved it. You just silently prayed that Joel felt the same gravitational pull as you did. 

It all seemed different. You’d had these conversations before, sometimes there had been flirtatious comments but Joel was a tease, could flirt with a lamp post if he really tried hard enough. There was something about the way he was looking at you now, almost as if there was resistance there. Like he was trying to resist you. 

“Older men won’t always treat you well,” he rasped, training his eyes to stay level with yours and not fall below your neckline. Your little white tank top doing nothing to hide your chest, it seemed you had skipped wearing anything underneath.  Such a tease, he thought. “Young pretty thing like you wanting a bit of them? C’mon now, you can’t handle no-one your own age, let alone someone twenty  years older than you.” 

There was a taunting smile on his face. Your heart began to thump under the thin material of your vest as you looked at him, not paying attention to the clothing in your hands. His head tilted to the side slightly as he eyed you up, waiting for you to respond. 

“You are twenty years older than me,” you whispered out loud before you could stop yourself.  “Do you think I couldn’t handle ya?” 

Joel shook his head and sniggered slightly. “I know you couldn’t handle me baby, ain’t no shame in that.” 

“Why don’t you give me the chance to prove you - “ 

“I’ll have these.” The words were spoken and an item of clothing was stolen from your hands before you could finish your sentence . You suddenly felt tiny as Joel stood up. You looked up at him, eyes wide and mouth open as you watched him hold your pink, lace panties in his hand. “I’d prefer them used but this will do.” You kneeled with your mouth open, unable to make any argument back. Joel looked down at you before he bent over slightly to grab your jaw. You whimpered pathetically at the action and a wide shit-eating grin was on Joel’s within seconds of you making the sound. “Goodbye sweet girl.” 

“Joel - “ 

“Goodbye sweet girl,” he repeated sternly, his eyes lingering on yours as he stood up straight and walked out of the kitchen, your panties stuffed in his back pocket and both bottles of beer in his hands. 

----

You were a fool. A big fool. 

As soon as Joel had gone, you were running upstairs into your room where you slammed the door shut and threw yourself down on the bed. It had never gone that far before. He’d taken your panties - your favourite but you’d let that slide. Your mind was clogged with thoughts of him with your panties wrapped around his cock as he edged himself over and over again. His hand pressed against the locked door of the bathroom he shared with his wife. He wouldn’t be thinking about her though, no, his mind would be flooded with filthy images of you doing the stuff his wife wouldn’t do for him, you bent over wherever he wanted, his cock stuffed wherever he wanted, your mouth wide open and pussy sopping for him. You wanted them back, covered in his cum and filth, his scent embedded in the material. He was making you feral, the panties you were currently wearing already so soaked.

He wanted them used? Well, he’d get them used. 

“Fuck,” you breathed out, your right index and middle finger slowly massaging your clit. 

It was the same routine almost nightly. The moment your fingers touched your clit, dirty thoughts of Joel would arise in your brain. You wanted every inch of him, wanted his fingers rubbing delicate circles on your clit rather than your own, wanted his tongue lapping you up as he slowly slipped his large fingers inside of you, slowly but surely bringing you to the edge over and over and over again. 

You felt restricted by the panties you were wearing but you needed them soaked. Needed Joel to have one smell of the fabric and go mad with lust, unable to control himself to the point he tugs his cock out wherever he is and strokes and strokes until he’s coming so hard that the only thing he can purr is your name over and over again. You were so mad for this man, you needed him to be the same back. 

This is what you were put on this planet for. You were made to make Joel miller go crazy at the scent of a younger woman. 

You rubbed your clit harder as you arched your back, mumbling his name repeatedly until it was the only thing you could do. Your legs spread wider as your eyes fluttered open and shut, the room blurring as you felt the pressure grow in your lower abdomen. 

You always came quick when you thought of Joel but this, this was humiliating. 

As your orgasm washed through you, all you could do was concentrate on Joel’s voice. I know you couldn’t handle me, baby. You could, you knew you could. You could hear the disgustingly beautiful words that he would speak to you as he thrusted his cock in and out of you, the delicious stretch as he split you open and opened your legs wider than you ever could yourself. 

“Oh fuck, Joel, Joel - “ you stuttered shakily, your orgasm sending shockwaves through your body. You tightened your legs around your hand that was still rubbing your clit and your back arched off the bed, the sound of his name on the tip of your tongue as you slowly came down. 

You needed him. You were going to have him. 

You spent the next few moments trying to gather your thoughts and talk yourself out of making a bad decision. This could ruin your life and your relationship with your parents but most importantly, it could ruin everything with Joel. Not just the sexual stuff either. Being able to have someone to call in the middle of the night when you were stranded at a party and too frightened to call your mother, the memory of having your first sip of alcohol with Joel when you were eighteen, the way that he would smile sweetly to you whenever he saw you unloading groceries from your mothers car. It would all be ruined, gone. A new, uncertain, dangerous territory would arise and you would be stuck there, unable to go back on what you have done. But you wanted this more than anything, had dreamed about this endless time. If you could only have him for one night, then one night it would be. 

Before you could talk yourself out of anything, you jumped off the bed and ignored the pulsing feeling in your pussy. You reached over to the freshly washed laundry and grabbed a hoodie and a pair of leggings. As tempting as it was to walk down the stairs in nothing but your soaked underwear and an oversized t-shirt, have Joel peel them from your body before taking you over to the dining room table and fucking you, you had to have some class about you. 

The sound of your parents and Charlotte could be heard from your bedroom, they must have come in at some point but you were sure they hadn’t heard you. You listened out for Joel’s voice or laughter but heard nothing.. A part of you hoped he’d rushed off home to fuck himself with your panties. You bounded down the stairs with a skip in your step, excited for what was to come.

“Where’s Joel?” you asked as you came into the kitchen, voice laced with fake innocence as you smiled sweetly at the three of them around the dining room table. Your used panties hidden in the pocket of your hoodie. 

“Garage,” Charlotte answered. “Everything okay? Anything I can help you with?” 

Absolutely not. 

“Yeah, I just need to ask him something about Sarah.” 

“Before you go,” your mother started, stopping you as you made a rush for the front door. She showed you her laptop screen, a stunning spa resort on the screen. Nice. “Me and Charlotte were thinking about booking a weekend away at the end of summer, are you interested in coming?” 

“You really should,” Charlotte answered, not giving you a chance to oppose the situation. “I could always see if Sarah is free to come along with us so you’re not stuck with us the whole time.” 

You shrugged your shoulders and glanced towards the garage door through the kitchen window. Could you really be in close proximity to Charlotte for a full weekend? Especially considering what you were about to do. 

“I’ll think about it,” you answered with a smile, hoping it would be enough to satisfy them. “Anyways, bye.” 

You rushed out the front door and over to the garage before they could say anything else. As you reached the door, you caught a glimpse of Joel around the corner, your heart skipping a beat as you stared at him. He was so pretty, years of labour engrained on his face but he wore it so well. His hair was messy after spending hours running his fingers through it, most likely at annoyance towards your father for buying another car that didn’t run. His beard was unruly and all you could picture was the feeling of the coarse hair running along the inside of your thighs and leaving red marks in its wake. 

You coughed loudly and caught his attention. He turned around slowly, already trying to fight an erection at the sight of you and a seductive smile. “I want my panties back, Joel,” you began. You wanted to move closer, run your hand up his chest and grab the curls at the back of his neck but you maintain your dignity, for now. “They’re my favourite pair.”

Joel tutted and shook his head.“Not happenin’, darlin. They are mine now.” He threw the rag he had in his hand on the work bench behind him, eyes not leaving yours for even the briefest of seconds.

“But what if I give you something better?” You slowly stalked over to Joel and pressed your body up close towards him and fought the urge to not stare up at him. “Somethin’ so much better.” 

Joel watched with hooded eyes as you reached in between your bodies, your hand accidentally grazing his lower belly. He took in a deep breath and clenched his fists. He was struggling as much as you and you loved every moment. 

“You filthy girl,” Joel chuckled darkly, the sight of your panties having his cock rock hard against the rough denim material of his jeans. He was fucked. He took them from your hand and admired them with a glimmer of humour in his eyes but there was something darker there, almost worrying. He fondled with the material, his rough finger moving along the crotch and he audibly moaned when he felt the wetness.  “These are still wet, baby. What you been doin’ up those stairs, huh?” 

You tilted your head to the side and grinned. “You wanna’ know?” You asked, so sweet and sexy that the way you spoke went straight to Joel’s cock. You ran your hand up Joel’s chest and over his neck before pressing the two fingers you’d used to get yourself off against his plump lips.  “You can have a taste if you wanna’.” 

“Pretty girl - “ he purred, unable to finish his sentence as you pressed your fingers into his mouth. “Dirty girl,” he finished, his mouth enclosing around your fingers as he took in the faint taste of your previous orgasm. His large hand wrapped around your wrist, keeping you in place whilst he stared down at you with a fire in his eyes that you’d never seen before. He popped your fingers out of his mouth, “Always knew you were a fuckin’ slut for me.” 

You stood up on your tippy-toes as you attempted to capture Joel’s mouth with your own but he pushed you back, enough to make you stumble back into the bonnet of the car that Joel and your father had been working on. 

“Please, Joel,” you whimpered, sounding more pathetic than you normally did when you were around him - you wanted something to happen when you passed him your wet panties but this, well this was something else. You watched him as he walked over to you, an internal battle playing out in his head but he knew which side of him would win. You reached out for him as he got closer but he gently slapped your hands away. “I’m not a slut, i - “

“Ya  think I don’t notice the way you suddenly become a slut whenever I’m around? How I’ll walk into your house and you’ll be dressed in jeans and a shirt and within five minutes, suddenly you’ve got on them lil’ pyjama shorts with the frills on the bottom and an even littler tank top that you should be fuckin’ ashamed to be wearing around your parents,” he spat. He stood directly in front of you, one large hand reaching out to lay flat against your stomach as he pushed you further against the bonnet until you were practically laid flat against it, your elbows the only thing keeping you slightly sat up. “But you ain’t ashamed. You fuckin’ love it. Love knowing that my cock’s damn near bustin’ out my jeans all night, don’t ya?” 

“I didn’t know, Joel - “ You knew. 

“Didn’t know? See, you’re a liar as well as fuckin’ slut. You think you deserve my cock?” 

“Yes, please,” you moaned loudly without any shame. No concern for the three people not that fat from you. You were fucked if anyone was to come into the garden. Due to the placement of the work bench, you were thankfully out of sight of the house. 

“Why?” he asked, his hand running up and down your stomach delicately. 

“I’ve been so patient, Joel. It’s been torture, knowin’ you going back to her and fuckin’ her when it should be me you fuckin’,” you cried out, your eyes watering with desperation. “Don’t you think I deserve ya cock? I’ve been good, I promise. I gave  ya’ my used panties. Made myself come whilst wearin’ them, just for you, thought of you, I promise.” 

Before you could begin to process your actions, you grabbed Joel’s hand and moved it further down so it was situated in between your thighs. You had ‘forgotten’ panties and with your previous encounter with Joel, your orgasm and this current situation, you were dripping all the way down to the seam of your leggings. 

“Can you feel it, Joel?” you asked, voice soft and quiet. “Can ya’ feel how wet I am for you?” 

Joel moaned lowly as he slowly moved his fingers along your clothed pussy, the material from the leggings adding an extra layer of pleasure. You were already so sensitive still from your previous orgasm but you weren't going to back out of this. 

“I feel it, baby,” he grunted. “Fuck, ya’ so beautiful, so wet, I ain’t got no choice but to fuck ya’, have I?” Removing his hand, Joel placed both of his hands on each side of your inner thigh and split your legs apart so you were fully spread out for him. The action caused you to fall flat onto your back and you attempted to open your legs even wider for him. “That’s it, good girl.” 

Joel took one large step until he was situated between your thighs. His hands reached up to grab your waist and he moved your body down until you were pressed against his bulge, his hard cock pressing directly onto your clothed pussy. His hands tightened around you as he slowly rubbed his cock against you, his eyes fluttering shut with ecstasy. 

Joel felt so wrong. If someone was to walk into the garage and see the scene in front of them then Joel would be leaving yours with a black eye but how was he able to resist such a beautiful woman who was equally as desperate as him? He’d tried so hard to resist you, spent the last few years trying to purposely avoid you but there were times when he couldn’t, and he couldn’t even count the amount of times on one hand that he had to rush off to your parent’s bathroom and stroke his cock until he finally saw sense. This was his best friend's daughter, this was you. Not some random girl in a club that just wanted a quick fuck. This was quiet, pretty, sweet you. He didn’t even want to think about his wife who was blissfully unaware of his sinful thoughts, especially didn’t want to think about her when your hips were moving and creating more pressure on his cock. 

“Want more, Joel,” you whispered, eyes shut as you continued to grind along his cock. You definitely looked a mess but Joel didn’t seem to care, not when his hands left your waist and he let you take control. “Cock feels so big, bet it feels even bigger deep inside of me.” 

Within seconds, you were flung around so you were now bent over the bonnet, your legs dangling over the edge. Joel’s hands were on your waist again as dragged you back so your back was perfectly arched for him and arse up in the air for him to admire. His cock pressed against you as he shamelessly rutted his hips into you, allowing the sensation to go straight to his cock - and head. 

“Pretty fuckin girl’, told you earlier that you wouldn’t be able to handle my cock,” he moaned, one hand moving down to squeeze the flesh of your ass. There was nothing delicate about the touch, you didn’t mind. “But like I said, gonna have to fuck ya’, aren’t I? Wouldn't be fair of me to let you carry on like this, so desperate and horny for an old man’s cock that you gotta’ stuff your fingers inside your pussy every goddamn time I’ve been in the same room as ya’.”  

You’ve never seen Joel this desperate, all fury and hormones as he rubbed himself against your ass, almost as if you weren't there. You could do nothing but grind your hips up against him, waiting and anticipating and his animalistic nature took over. He messily fucked his cock against you, whispering sweet nothings out loud as the usual authoritative Joel slips away. His eyebrows dipped as his orgasm approached and suddenly, he felt like an eighteen year old boy again. He was no better than those college boys you bitched about. He wasn’t going to come in his pants at the feeling of your ass pressed against his cock and he certainly wasn’t going to sit next to his wife on the drive home and pretend that he didn’t just get himself off using your body. 

“No, no, no, where you goin’, Joel?” you whimpered as you felt the loss of his body against yours. You turned your head around and reached for him, only for him to shake his head as a warning. If you touched him, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. “Want you to come, need you to come, please, I’m so desperate, please. Can fuck my throat, please - “ 

“Shut up,” Joel snapped, taking a few steps back as he eyed you down like you were his prey. “If I only get to fuck you once, then it ain’t being like this, you understand? Plus baby, your parent’s are in the house, my fuckin’ wife is in the house. Need to be careful if we gonna’ do this, shouldn’t even be doin’ it but fuck, you right girl, you waited long enough, ain’t ya’?” 

You nodded pathetically as you stood up straight. “So long.” You were no longer the woman that walked into the garage and made Joel suck on her fingers. You were weak, desperate and a horny pathetic mess. Frankly, you didn’t care slightly about the people inside the house, not when you could see how hard his cock was. 

“I need to go by my office tonight and pick up some paperwork.” Joel stated, not looking anywhere else but at you. His cock was throbbing in his briefs, begging to be released and forced inside your tight, warm pussy but Joel needed to wait. He couldn’t do this here - couldn’t risk his wife or your parent’s walking in despite how badly he wanted to bend you over the stupid car. “You’ll be there, won’t ya’?” 

Again, you nodded pathetically. “I’ll be there.” 

“Wear a pretty dress, or skirt, yeah?” The sound of Charlotte's voice reached both of you at the same time and you took note of the way Joel grimaced - he wasn’t ready for this to be over yet. He was already counting down the hours until he could help you get over your need for his cock. “No panties either and I’m keeping these.” 

----

When you had woken up that morning, you hadn’t expected that this is where you would be but here you were, standing outside Joel’s office feeling like nothing but an idiot. You looked down at the dress you’d put on just for him, a pretty pink off-the-shoulder flowery summer dress, you looked cute, irresistible. 

You stepped inside, knowing the way to go from your previous visits with your father. Those times had been innocent, you’d sat in Joel’s office whilst him and your dad discussed whatever business they needed to talk about. This time was  different. You felt so anxious as you approached the office door - not bothering to knock as it was already slightly open. You had a plan to open the door slowly and say something that would have him dragging you over to the desk but you didn’t get a chance. Before you could say anything, his voice was ringing through the room. 

“Take your dress off for me.” 

You stood still in the doorway to his shared office with Tommy as silence occupied the room you were in. Not even a hello, straight to the point. Joel faced away from you as he flicked through some paperwork that was untidily placed over the desk, could he feel how desperate you were for him? 

“What if I say no?” you fire back, your tone of voice playful. 

Despite your voice showing some confidence, you could feel yourself getting smaller under the harsh gaze of Joel as he turned back to look at you briefly. The glance only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough to let you know he wasn’t down to play your games anymore. Joel turned back towards the paperwork and sighed loudly enough for you to hear it from the other side of the room. Was his cock aching at the thought of having you? 

“Ya’ think you’re so cute, don’t you?” Joel asked rhetorically. “Did you listen to what I said earlier on? Did you wear your panties or nah?” 

You shook your head even though he couldn’t see you. “I listened to what you said, Joel. Behaved myself. I’m not wearing anything underneath this dress.” 

“So do as you're told and take that dress off before I have to come over there and do something about it, understood?” Tempting. You watched as Joel strolled casually over to a sofa besides his desk. He looked at you properly for the first time and his cock hardened at the sight of you. “We shouldn’t be doing this, you know that.” 

“I know,” you said softly with a shrug of your shoulders. “But I kinda’ don’t care.” 

Joel stifled a laugh. “Me neither, baby.” He raised one eyebrow and nodded towards your dress, encouraging you to finally free yourself of the loose clothing which felt like it was stuck to your body. 

Standing at a distance from Joel, you allowed the dress to slip from your body until it fell lightly to the floor. You were completely naked for him, body bare and on show. Goosebumps arose on your skin as you watched him take every inch of you in, his eyes slowly trailing over your collarbones, down to your breasts where the nipples had peaked due to the cool air, down your soft belly which was gagging to be covered in his kisses, and finally your pussy. If he was any closer, he would be able to see the glistening in between your legs. 

“You think she’s ready for me?” 

“She?” you asked with a confused expression etched onto your face. 

“Your pussy, baby,” Joel cooed, his voice soft and loving. “God, you can be so innocent when you wanna’ be. Come over here, wanna see all of you.” 

You gulped as you walked over to him slowly, suddenly feeling anxious at the feeling of his eyes roaming over your body. He looked so hungry for you with his right hand rubbing against the growing bulge in his jeans. So pretty, you thought to yourself. 

When you finally stood in front of him, you looked everywhere but down at the fact that had ruined your dreams since you could remember. Maybe this was wrong but it felt so right at the moment. 

“I can see she’s ready, she’s so wet for me already,” Joel said, his large palms coming to lay on the back of your thighs. You shuffled forward slightly until his face was in direct view with your soft belly. Joel leaned slightly forward and placed one chaste kiss directly above your belly button. As you looked down, Joel looked up and the two of you were silent for a brief moment, just staring at each other and waiting for one to back out but when neither of you spoke out against what you were about to do, Joel continued on. “When we got this office, Tommy brought some dumb shit for it. Told him we’d never need a sofa in here but I’m starting to think that maybe it wasn’t a bad purchase at all.” 

“Why’s that, Joel?” 

“Because imma’ eat your pussy on it.” He said the words so casually that you almost fell to your knees there. “Bet you’d look so pretty with your thighs on either side of my face.” 

“Joel,” you hummed, hands automatically coming out to thread in his thick hair. A soft moan came through Joel at the action.

“What do you want, pretty girl?” 

“Please.” 

Joel gracefully pulled you down so you were straddling his lap, his large hands roaming along the skin on your back as he admired you. “So beautiful,” he mumbled, mouth pressed along the base of your neck. “Wanna mark you up so bad. Fuck if you were ten years older, not my bestfriends daughter and I weren’t married, I’d do such bad things to you, fuck you full of my cum till I was leaking outta’ ya’ for days.” 

“Can’t, I wish you could, more than you’ll ever know,” you whined, fingers gripping his head as the flurry of kisses along your neck went straight to the fire in your loins. “But you can do what ya’ said before.” 

“Tell me what you want me to do, wanna’ hear them dirty words come from that sweet mouth of yours.” 

“Want you to eat my pussy, Joel. Please.” 

Joel grunted before taking a hold of your body and shuffling you around on the sofa until he was laid flat and you were straddling his waist. Joel looked as desperate as you as he thrusted his hips up, shuffling you slightly along his body. 

“Come on then, I’m waiting for her. Been waitin’ on her for far too long.” 

Joel grinned widely, excited at the prospect of having his best friend's daughter come all over his tongue. Joel was obviously lying if he said that he hadn’t thought about this before but they were just taboo thoughts that he had, nothing serious, everyone fantasised, right? He almost felt ashamed when he left your parents house only hours before, cock still hard and leaking in his boxers as he pictured you spread across your fathers car. He tried to make conversation with Charlotte on the way back home but it was physically impossible, his mind clouded with the memory of you bent over your dads precious project with your ass in the air, basically inviting him in. But he felt no shame now. Not with you, straddling him and looking down at him with an anxious, but compliant, smile on your face - he was completely and utterly fucked. 

“Happily, Mr. Miller.”

You sensually moved your body further up his, pausing briefly to place your thumb against Joel’s mouth. You dragged his bottom lip down as you smiled down at him sweetly, the memories of your fingers in Joel’s mouth as he sucked them clean had you throbbing onto his t-shirt, sure to leave a stain in its wake. Before you could go any further, Joel gently wrapped a hand around your wrist. 

“Up here, now. You know what to do, doll.”

Smiling, you placed both of your hands against the arm of the sofa that was behind Joel’s head and lifted your body up so that you could move until you were hovering above his face. You’d never done this before. Sure, you’d had someone go down on you but never like this, never so intimate and never whilst you had been this wet. Joel was in no rush though as you hesitated above him. He would never force you to do anything that you didn’t want to do and he understood that you were most likely nervous - you was fucking your father’s best friend after all. The sight he had wasn’t too bad either, your pussy soaking and dripping just for him. So close to his mouth.  After some hesitation, Joel came to the conclusion that he couldn’t look at your sweet cunt for any longer and do nothing about it. 

Both of his strong hands gripped onto your thighs as he brought you down to his face and delved in, a moan coming from both of you as his tongue immediately started to lick along your clit in a teasing manner. You lurched forward at the sensation, your hands gripping onto the sofa with a tighter grip. 

“Oh, that feels so good,” you cried out, one hand leaving the sofa to grab his locks. “Don’t stop, please, please don’t stop.” 

Joel wrapped his mouth around your clit as he gently moved his head from side-to-side, he would keep you on top of his face for the rest of his life if it was possible. You looked down at the sight of him, so beautiful and sensual that you couldn’t help but moan just from that. Your thighs squeezed against the side of his face as you felt yourself relax into him, allowing yourself the chance to roll your hips and meet the stroke of his tongue. His hands grabbed both of your thighs as a sign of encouragement. 

“You taste so fuckin’ good, baby,” he purred before placing small flicks against your clits, starting slowly but becoming more distressed as your moans became louder and more frequent. “She’s so fuckin pretty, girl. Such a pretty pussy, so wet and all for me.” 

“For you, Joel,” you breathed out as your eyes squeezed shut and you stuttered forwards. Joel’s actions were becoming more ferocious on your cunt, his tongue having no limits as he continuously brought you to the edge. 

You could barely speak, only the filthiest of moans coming from your timid body as you continued to grind along Joel’s face. Worries about harming him were gone, all you could focus on was the unmeasurable amount of pleasure that he was bringing you. If his tongue alone could do this, what could his cock do? 

Joel didn’t need to hear you speak though. The moans and whimpers that blessed his ears was enough to tell him everything that he needed to know. You were gone when it came to him, would allow him to do whatever he wanted and just the feel of his cock against your ass and his tongue on your clit had done that to you. He wanted to ruin you so bad it almost hurt him. 

As you looked down at Joel again, your eyes flickering open for the briefest of moments, you noticed the cockiness that glimmered behind his eyes. 

“I’d do this every day of my life if I could,” he said as he lifted you up briefly. You whimpered at the loss of contact but also at the sight of him. His face glistened with your wetness, his beard drenched and lips swollen as he stared up at you. Darkness had clouded his eyes. 

You can. You can. You can. You wanted to scream at him. But he couldn’t. He was married. 

“Just shut up,” you mewled before reaching down, grabbing his hair and planting yourself firmly on his face. An animalistic growl came from Joel as he returned his heavenly lips to your core. His moans and whimpers vibrated against your clit as you tugged harder on his hair with every action of his tongue.  

You found a rhythm that had Joel’s eyes slightly widening but he didn’t once stop as you rode his face, his tongue and lips drinking in every drop you released. His tongue went from moving leisurely swirls along your clit to rough, mixing the rhythm up and having you yearning for more. 

His cock was so hard it was painful. He wanted nothing more but to flip you over and fuck you from the back, have you keening and arching your back for him as you screamed his name over and over again, legs shaking and orgasm so strong you black out but he needed this just as much. Wanted to have you flood his mouth with your arousal, he needed to struggle to breath as you put all your weight on his face and took what you needed, deserved. 

Your head was thrown back as you chanted his name like a prayer, your voice becoming embarrassingly higher. Small flicks that he left against your clit were becoming more distressed and the thrust of your hips was almost making it hard for Joel to breath but he would die happily if it meant dying in between your legs with his tongue pressing against your enterance.

“I’m so close,” you whimpered out loud, your cunt clenching around his tongue as he behaved like a frenzied woman between your thighs. His tongue was everywhere all at once and you could feel yourself start to build up, the excitement of the release making you tug on his hair harder as fucked yourself harder on his face. 

Joel pulled back for air, his breath laboured and eyes glossy. He gave himself a few seconds to collect himself as you made stared at each other, both so fucked out your brains it was ridiculous. 

“You gonna come for me, pretty girl? Gonna coat my face?” Joel asked, his words broken up due to being unable to tear his mouth away from your clit for more than a few seconds. “Answer me baby, tell me how good I’m making you feel - “ Joel cut himself off with a long, drawn-out moan as your hands returned back to his hair. “Keep tugging my hair.” 

Tugging harder and putting most of your weight onto Joel’s face was the only response you could give him. Your moans and whimpers matched Joel’s as he continued his tortuous assault on your cunt and you weaved your fingers throughout his hair, your fingernails digging slightly into his scalp causing a delicious burn. 

The burn in your lower stomach grew stronger with every movement of Joel’s tongue and your legs started to shake around his head. “Come, pretty girl,” he growled against your clit. “Come so hard on my tongue I can taste you for days.” 

You dissolved into pleasure as you felt your orgasm rush through your body, every part of you in utter bliss as lowly moaned out Joel’s name. His own cries of pleasures were adding to the orgasm, the vibrations rippling through you. His hands grabbed you tighter as he held you down, surely not able to breathe but frankly, not caring in the slightest. This was heaven to him. Being able to feel your thighs shake and stutter, your whole body clench up and the taste of your wetness gushing out of you and onto his tongue, drinking up every inch of you like he was a man dying - he was done for. This was perfection. This is what he had been craving for so long.

It felt as if everything had stopped as you gently moved your cunt across his mouth, the last of your orgasm sizzling out. You attempted to move off Joel and give him a chance to catch a breath but he pulled you back down, using his tongue to clean up the evidence of your orgasm. It was only when the pleasure became too much that you pulled him back with another pull of his hair, earning an almost silent whimper from him. 

“You did so well, baby,” he whispered as he moved you down to his lap and sat himself up. Joel’s hand moved to your face as he brushed some of the hair out of the way. You looked so good, so blissful and angelic. He looked even better though, completely fucked out as he tried to labour his breathing. 

You nodded slowly and pressed your forehead against his. “So good. Thank you, thank you so much.” 

Joel gulped and hesitated before speaking, “We can do this again,” he started, ignoring the voice in his head screaming at him to shut up. This was so wildly inappropriate but how was he meant to resist you after you’d just sat on his face and ridden him to high heavens? His heart clenched at the hopeful smile on your face. “Our secret though, baby. Can’t tell no-one, ya’ get that?” 

“Our secret.” You leaned back on Joel’s lap, expecting to feel his hard cock pressing into your sensitive core but instead, you just felt his soft bulge and a hint of disappointment hit you. “You not get hard for me, Joel?” you asked sadly. 

There was a devilish smile on his face as he watched you shuffle back until you rested on his lower thighs, your eyebrows pressed together. You undid the buttons of his jeans and slid your hand inside of his briefs so you could cup his bulge - he had wanted you so bad before, what had happened? 

Joel continued to watch you with a smile as your mouth formed into the perfect ‘o’ shape at the realisation of what had happened. 

“For me?” you asked sweetly as you removed your hand from Joel’s boxers, the remnants of his come on your finger tips. 

“For you,” he answered with a faint blush to his cheeks. “Made me come untouched, girl. All from those pretty fuckin’ hands of yours in my hair and the way you rode my face…” he trailed off and grabbed your ass, pulling you against him. “Suck ya’fingers baby, taste me.” 

You did as told, maintaining eye contact as you slipped your digits into your mouth and tasted him on your tongue. Fuck, he was delicious. 

“Funny,” you moaned around your fingers before letting them pop out your mouth. You leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to the side of Joel’s mouth, ignoring his look of confusion. “Told me I couldn’t handle an older man but it looks to me like you can’t handle a bit of younger pussy.” 

Joel chuckled as his fingers started to trail along the inside of your thigh. “I’m not finished with you yet, darlin’. Fuck, I ain’t even started yet.”

[intoanotherworld23]

Peaches And Cream

Summary: Joel loves the taste of you, and you love being his favorite dessert

Warnings: explicit sexual content, mature themes, overstimulation, fingering, oral sex, slightly dom Joel, submissive reader, implied sex, praise kink, dirty talk

A/N: if anyone wishes to be added to my Pedro/or Joel tag list please let me know and I’ll be happy to add you. Heart, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and supportive. Thanks! XOXO

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

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

Hall Of Hunks

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

Feeling absolutely reduced to a hot and sweaty mess as you laid underneath Joel. Who was staring at your disheveled face. A look of pride written across his face as your body trembled around him.

“I’ve never seen you cum so much sweetheart.” Praising you as a hand covers your eyes in embarrassment. “You did so good for me baby.”

That powerful and mind blowing release had you almost in tears. Trying with all your might not to just cry in front of him. Feeling like that might weird him out a little bit. Since he could take tears as being in pain or discomfort, and then he would stop, and you didn’t want him to stop. Your body was feeling overwhelmed as it continued to shake underneath his fingertips.

“Let me see those pretty eyes.” His deep voice persuades you as your hands slowly moved away from your face to look up at his smirking one.

“Joel.” Whining his name as he snickers keeping his cock still absolutely still inside of you.

“Whadda you need pretty girl?” He teases feeling your cunt clenching around you making him groan.

Joel knew exactly what you wanted, but was still too shy to say anything to him. He always helped you ease your way into expressing what you wanted with him. Giving you a little bit without asking him, and then getting you to finally speak up. Carefully pulling out from your raw cunt your body jolting at the sensitivity from the sudden loss of him. Feeling his cum ooze out of your body his hand massaging your inner thigh soothingly.

“Fuck me baby girl look at you.” Watching as his liquid spilled out of you and trailed down between your cheeks. He was licking his lips wanting nothing more than to lick it all up, and taste how delicious you both were mixed. That’s exactly what he did too.

His hot mouth attaching to your puffy and still wet cunt. Hands reaching out to grip onto his hair as his tongue flicked back and forth on your clit. Back arching off the bed as he slurped away, hands gripping your inner knees as he kept them pushed apart so he had full and complete access to you. Body feeling like it was on fire as he thrusted his thick tongue inside of you. Rotating your hips around to feel more as his nose brushed against your clit.

“Oh god.” Crying out as your orgasm was already swiftly approaching still extremely sensitive from your previous release. Joel looking up at your remarkable expression unable to look anywhere else. Loving that he was the one in control feeling like he held all the power in your pleasure, and it made him feel like a god.

Reaching a hand over to your pelvis as his thumb started to rub circles on your nub. Your senses heightened and overwhelmed not knowing how much longer you were gonna be able to last. Joel could tell that you were fighting to keep going, and he knew what would help you reach the finish line.

“Tastes like peaches baby girl.” His low voice sends you over the edge as your body starts to crumble. Your ribcage rising and falling with each quick breath. Hands falling down to your side feeling loose and numb. Stomach trembling from the resounding orgasm you just experienced. Your battered cunt was so sore from being stretched and abused over and over again.

Feeling a pair of soft lips gently caressing your thighs and inner knees a trail of saliva being left behind. Sex was always amazing with Joel, but the one thing you loved just as much was the aftercare. His touch was always so gentle and comforting as he would help ease you through each orgasm.

“Fucked that pretty cunt so good, didn’t I?” His crude language had your thighs twitch, and you loved it all the same. Joel already knew the answer to the question, but he loved the reactions you would give him just for saying certain words.

“So proud of you my sweet peach.” His nickname had you smiling as Joel pulled you into his arms and laid you on top of his warm body. Listening to the sound of his heart beating, and the rise and fall of his chest was easing you into a slumber like state. “I’m not done with you yet though baby girl.”

[jobean12-blog]

You come home and see that babe got you a present. What's in the box?

The Perfect Gift

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader

Word Count: 700 (exactly hehe)

Summary: Living in Jackson has given you as close to a normal life as you can get in the post apocalyptic world and Joel just makes it that much better.

Author's Note: Thank you my sweet Cia for sending such lovely thoughts my way! I was doing some yoga this morning and this idea hit me. I appreciate you always thinking of me! I hope you're having the best week and happiest holidays! HUGS and LOVE! ❤️Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy🥰

Warnings: Soft and sweet fluff

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

The world outside is muffled in a hush, every sound softened by the blanket of sparkling, cold snow. But inside, there’s only warmth.

A strong arm rests against the curve of your waist and calloused fingertips trace idle shapes on your soft skin. The steady rhythm of his breath is warm along your neck before his lips press delicate kisses down to your bare shoulder.

“Mornin’ darlin’,” he whispers, his voice still deep and rumbly with sleep.

You turn over, burying your face in his chest and mumbling, “good morning.”

He pulls you closer and kisses the top of your head.

“Ready to get up?” he chuckles.

“Is it still snowing?” you ask, keeping your face hidden.

He stirs slightly and after a short pause, quietly answers with a “yes.”

“Let’s stay in bed.”

“What about your present?” he murmurs.

At the mention of a gift, you blink open your eyes and reluctantly drag yourself from his warmth to meet his gaze.

“Gift?”

He nods with a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. You run your fingers through his mussed hair, twirling a stray curl around your fingers before softly kissing him.

“Ok. I can get up for that.”

“I thought so,” he grins with a wink.

He starts to move but you cling to his biceps. “But I don’t want you to leave,” you pout.

“I don’t have to go far,” he says and sits up to reach into the small makeshift nightstand next to the bed.

He pulls out a package, wrapped simply in brown paper with some twine holding it together. He suddenly looks nervous, his expression wide eyed with worry and your eyebrows draw in.

“Joel?”

Without blinking he stares at you and sets it in your lap.

You give him one last curious glance and pull at the string. The paper opens and out falls one of his flannels, your favorite one.

Your face lights up in a smile and you hug it to your chest, letting the sheet fall from your shoulders, revealing more of your naked skin.

He reaches out to touch you. “Do you like it? I know it’s nothing new, but I know how much you love wearing them. Now this one is officially yours.”

Pressing the soft fabric to your chest you bring the collar to your nose with a deep inhale.

Sighing softly, you whisper, “it’s perfect Joel. I love it!”  

You throw yourself into his arms and he helps you put it on, slowly and carefully closing each button but not without brushing his knuckles along your skin, sending a shiver of goosebumps down your spine.

“There,” he says, looking you over. “My perfectly wrapped present.”

You giggle and run your hands down the front. As you do you feel something hard in the front pocket. You stop and look up to find Joel smiling softly.

“Find something else?”

When you reach into the pocket your fingers close around something small and cool and then you pull out your hand in your palm rests a simple gold band.

Your eyes widen and you suck in a gasp.

He takes it from your hand and grabs your chin between his fingers, tilting your face up to his.

“Darlin’,” he starts, his voice gruff with emotion. “I was so lost before. But now that I have you, I need you. Not in the ways to survive, but in the ways that make life worth living. I was made and meant to look for you and wait for you and become yours forever…that is, if you’ll have me. Will you marry me?”

The tears fall freely down your cheeks, and you manage a “yes,” just before your arms wind around his neck and you pepper him with kisses. He takes the ring and with a gentleness that makes your breath catch he slips it onto your left ring finger.

“I love you.”

Your words are a whisper, and he takes your hand in his, lifting it to his lips to kiss across your knuckles, then your palm and finally your wrist before your hand opens to cradle his cheek.

“I love you more,” he answers, closing his eyes.

[legendary-pink-dot]

I'm sobbing. You are way too good to me, sweet Bat. 💜

Loved this interlude as much as I love his curls. Which is to say, A GODDAMN LOT.

Once and Future

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f reader

Word count: 500

Summary: a short but dirty interlude with the pussy eating king, long may he reign.

Warnings: oral f receiving, fingering, Frankie’s curls

A word from the author: Oh nothing, just something I think @legendary-pink-dot might like. Little ode to the hair we all love.

They feel like silk. The smooth strands slip between your fingers, twisting and tangling, warm in your hands.

Frankie knows you like it when his curls are wild are unkempt, a rebellion against his early military days or short cropped hair, he lets it grow.

You love the way it spills out from under his trusty blue cap, mocha, hickory, java, chocolate, walnut, and now hints of silver beginning to thread through Frankie’s hair. Despite the tell-tale sign of his aging, his locks are still thick, still called for you to run your fingers through and tug gently, or scratch lightly at his scalp when you kissed him. He purred when you did, and groaned when you buried your nose in his hair and pressed your body close to his. The smell of his sweat and his shampoo were as good as any cologne.

Frankie tightened his arms around you and maneuvered you to your back. He pulled your hands from his hair and pressed them against the kitchen table he laid you out on and kissed you soundly, devouring your mouth, sucking his way down your neck and across your chest, fighting to tug your tshirt up so he could mouth at your breasts and lave his tongue wetly across your perking nipples.

He squeezed your hips as he kissed down your belly to the waistband of your jeans. He made a frustrated sound as he fumbled with the button and the zipper, his thick fingers rushed and clumsy, but he had them undone and pulled down your thighs before you could stop him or do it yourself. He was too overcome with need to stop, anyway.

He forgot about your sneakers, knocking together now as your ankles crossed and your knees were pressed up and open for him. Without hesitation Frankie buried his face into your pussy. He relished it, the taste, the smell, the way your heat radiated against his face. Sucking and licking, he ate you. He felt crazed, greedy, hungry for more and more.

Beneath him, you squirmed, your body seeking his out, blooming for him, open and welcoming. When two rough fingers ease inside, you clench, soaking him, making him moan.

Until now you’d kept your hands where he put them, he made you want to be obedient for him, but as you felt the heat beginning to spread over your hips and thighs and belly, you grabbed his hair in your fists, keeping him right where you needed him, lips and tongue working diligently against your clit as his thick fingers pumped in and out, a warning of the stretch his cock would be.

Your hips and knees jerked as your orgasm rippled through you, like a seismic wave of pleasure, leaving you panting in its wake.

Frankie licked you carefully, kissing your tender pussy until your body relaxed. He took your hands from his sweat damp curls once more, and told you “turn over.”

[umnitsa]

Dirty old man

Summary: Joel is on his seventies, but he still has needs.

A/N: Ok, so. One pic made the rounds in one of the discord servers I frequent and it made me wild, I won't lie (it was a pic/meme with aged Pedro Pascal). Highly inspired by @toxicanonymity's GILF!Joel (mine is a bit of a perv, but this isn't really a dark fic). It was also inspired by @atticrissfinch's MMITB (I wish I had a fraction of her talent for dirty talk, but I'm not even a native speaker of English, so I do what I can). Now you go read them both, I ASSURE YOU it'll be a good time. Huge thanks for all the people that cheered me on with this: Toxi, @romanarose, @beefrobeefcal, @gwendibleywrites, I love you all. (I must admit that I don't know if I'll ever continue this, honestly, although part of me wants to get to the sex scene. xD)

Pairing: No outbreak old man!Joel x Reader

CW: Joel being bold, dirty talk. That's it <3

No beta, we die like lonely writers xD

It wasn’t a bad job.

Sarah wanted to hire you to take care of her father, Joel. He wasn’t that old, but years of hard work in construction gave him some mobility issues. Sarah worried he spent too time alone, and that he could fall, get hurt and trapped without help because of his pride (which seemed to be a real possibility, considering Joel didn’t want to lose his independence in any way).

You were supposed to get the night shift, which was nice. The night shift was calm, except when it wasn’t. Sarah assured you she talked to her father, she wanted to introduce you to him, before you started working.

You prepared for war, if the man was as stubborn and grumpy as his daughter described.

Sarah introduced you and the old man looked at you over his glasses.

“You sure this pretty thing can lift me off the floor?” He asked, a crooked smirk stretching his lips. You considered answering him, but he raised his face defiantly and winked.

He was teasing his daughter.

You chuckled, to Joel’s delight. Sarah hired you on the spot.

***

Joel was grumpy most of the time. You could understand. Getting older was specially hard on some people. Losing their independence seemed to be a horrifying blow.

You admired the family pictures displayed on the walls and the bookshelves. They showed a younger Joel, large and proud, wearing tight tshirts that showed his big arms.

He didn’t change much, to be honest. His hair now was completely silver, as his beard. The wrinkles didn’t spoil his roguish smile. He was on his seventies, but looked younger, somehow. You blamed his brown eyes.

***

“You know what I miss most about my youth?” He said softly one day, entering the living room. You were looking at his pictures. He slowly moved by your side and placed a hand over your back, rubbing gentle circles. “All the pussy.”

You turned to him, astonished at his boldness. He smirked, then shrugged. You felt your face getting warm and a different, slick, syrupy warmth pooling on your lower belly. He licked his lips and sighed.

“It was easy to get pussy with those looks.” He pointed at one picture of himself and smiled proudly. “Didn’t fuck as much as I wanted, or as much as I could. Tried to be a good dad. Don’t regret anything, but... Oh boy, I miss it.” He looked you up and down, his smile turning appreciative.

“Thought old pervs like you liked tiny thin teenagers.” You scoffed.

“Only dumbasses want those.” Joel chuckled, his hand sliding lower on your back. “I like them older. Like you. With those eyes, like you know and did everything under the sun.” Joel hums, closing his eyes. “Get them cockdumb and they cry so sweetly… Mmmm, the surprise in their wide eyes...” He licks his lips, watching your reaction. You laugh, trying to hide your own arousal.

“Well, Joel, I think the preference is because they are supposed to be tight.” You said firmly, standing your ground. You refused to look shocked, and you saw no reason to scold him, at least not yet. Maybe it was your pussy talking.

Joel leaned over you slowly; you stayed very still. His warm breath tickled your ear.

“After a certain size, honey, everything feels tight.” He said softly, grabbing his half hard cock through his pants. You looked down and gasped, noticing the girth of his bulge inside his huge hand. Joel stepped back, smiling proudly, and moved into the house, dragging his feet. “Lemme know if you want a ride, sweetheart. Them blue pills are easy to get.” He turned and winked at you.

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

A Touch of Obsession

Word count : 511

Pairing: Padro Pascal x reader

Summary: Pedro becomes obsessed with Y/n's intricate new nail art

______________________________________________________________

Y/n walked into their shared apartment, the faint scent of her fresh manicure lingering as she set her bag down. Pedro was sprawled out on the couch, scripts and highlighters spread around him, glasses perched on his nose. His head snapped up when he heard the door.

"Hey, cariño," he greeted with a warm smile, setting the script aside. His eyes immediately locked onto her hands as she tucked her hair behind her ear. "Wait, are those new?"

Y/n smirked, holding out her hands like a showcase model. "Yep! Got them done today. Cool, right?"

Pedro took her hands in his, studying the intricate designs on her nails. Each nail was different—a kaleidoscope of abstract patterns, tiny metallic studs, and iridescent swirls that shifted color depending on the light.

"Wow," he murmured, turning her hands over and letting the light catch the details. "They’re... really freaking cool. They look like little pieces of art."

Y/n laughed. "That’s kind of the idea. Glad you approve."

Pedro didn’t just approve; he was fascinated. Without thinking, he started gently running his fingers over her nails, tracing the ridges of the patterns. He flicked one of the tiny studs, then tilted her hand to see how the swirls changed color.

"This one looks like a galaxy," he said, tapping her thumb.

She chuckled again, settling into the couch beside him. "Pedro, are you seriously geeking out over my nails right now?"

He glanced at her with mock seriousness. "Excuse me, I am appreciating your art." Then, his voice softened. "Also, these are really satisfying to touch."

Y/n watched, amused, as Pedro continued to fidget with her nails, using her hands like a stress toy. He pressed on the metallic studs, flicked the edges of her nails, and traced the swirl patterns like they were a maze.

"You’re going to mess them up," she teased, though she didn’t pull her hands away.

"I’m being careful," he replied, completely absorbed. His thumb grazed over her index finger, and he glanced up at her. "Seriously, though. These are like... the perfect fidget toy."

Y/n raised an eyebrow. "So, you’re saying I should keep getting my nails done like this just to entertain you?"

Pedro leaned closer, his grin mischievous. "I mean, I wouldn’t complain. Plus, they suit you. Gorgeous and a little badass."

Her cheeks flushed at the compliment, and she playfully swatted him. "You're such a nerd."

"A nerd who’s in love with his girlfriend’s nails," he said dramatically, clasping her hands to his chest like she’d gifted him something priceless. "And his girlfriend, of course."

Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. "Well, lucky for you, I’ve got an appointment in two weeks. Guess you’ll have something new to obsess over."

Pedro smirked, leaning in to kiss her. "I’ll never get bored of you, Y/n. Nails or no nails."

"Good answer," she said, resting her head on his shoulder while he resumed playing with her nails.

They stayed like that for a while, Pedro content to fidget with her hands while Y/n enjoyed the attention. 

[arcanefox207]

Pedro Pascal voicing Fink the Fox and repping the Jackson Joel hair.

🩵 Please use and enjoy my gifs as you please! Reblogs appreciated🩵 Gif requests are open!

G I F N O T I F I C A T I O N S | G I P H Y

[legendary-pink-dot]

Bush Pilot Hair is now a whole thing and I need a separate folder in my photo roll for it 🙌

none of u understand what this means to me

[legendary-pink-dot]

Francisco Morales's soft curls. Yes.

[f10werfae]

Mi Princesa

pairing: Sugar Daddy!Pedro Pascal x Pregnant!Reader

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

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated🫶

Full Masterlist, Pedro Pascal Masterlist

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———

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

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

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

See you guys at the next update 🫶