#pedro pascal x female reader

[eufezco]

WHAT WE DID 𓂃 𓈒 ❀

synopsis – after arriving to salt lake with ellie and joel, the fireflies take her away from you and you did what it took to get her back.

a/n – because since the last episode aired the only thing i can think about is destroying everyone ( ;) ) in that fucking hospital with joel. we're all in this together as they say in high school musical 😭 also this is my first time writing something with so many action and english isn't my first language so i hope you can understand everything

c/w – blood, violence, guns, shooting

angst. fluff

the last of us and pedro pascal masterlist

joel's eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead, his expression unreadable. your arm rested against the window, hand holding your head up as you watched the trees blur past. your ears still rang from the shots, you could still feel the trigger in your fingers, the way the recoil bit into your shoulder, the smell of the blood staining your hands.

neither of you said a word. the windows of the car were closed shut, holding in the silence inside. the only sound that mattered was ellie's steady breathing from the back seats.

she let out a soft hum in her sleep, barely more than a breath, but enough for joel’s eyes to snap to the rear view mirror like a reflex. he had it angled just for her, didn’t care much for what was behind them anymore. you turned to look at her. ellie hadn’t moved. still curled up in the backseat, still in that hospital gown, though your jacket was wrapped around her like a shield. her face was calm, just sleep.

—she okay? —joel asked, voice low.

—yeah, —you said. —she's good.

it didn’t matter that joel tried to act like a human shield for ellie and you when that thing exploded, he still went down, and you still ended up in a hospital bed right beside him, with a strong headache, your body hurting. but none of that mattered the second your eyes landed on the red firefly symbol stamped across the wall. you pushed the sheets back, swung your legs over the side of the bed. you tried to stand, but the dizziness hit hard, your knees buckled, vision blurred, the taste of iron thick in your mouth.

—joel, —you swallowed and had to sit on the edge of your bed. his eyes opened slowly, he let out a low groan from his chest as he blinked against the harsh lights, —joel, are you okay? where's ellie?

and then marlene appeared, telling you how grateful she was to both of you for escorting ellie safe to the fireflies, yet joel and you cared only about one thing: where was she? marlene kept talking, trying to distract both of you, about purpose, about how special ellie was.

—just take us to her, —joel rubbed a hand over his face as he sat up straighter on the bed, the pain still into every movement.

—i can't, —that was all it took. your body went still, alert. she couldn’t? —she's being prepped for surgery.

joel’s head snapped toward her. your stomach dropped. —what kind of surgery? —he asked, looking around the room, confused. your eyes wouldn't left marlene. she took a few seconds before answering.

—our doctor thinks that the cordyceps in ellie has grown with her since brith.

—why is she in surgery? —you asked, sharp and clear. you wanted the truth, no more bluffing.

—he's gonna remove it from her, multiply the cells in a lab and then we can give it to everyone. he thinks it could be a cure.

—cordyceps grows inside the brain, —joel said immediately after.

marlene pressed her lips together, —it does.

you felt the breath catch in your chest, like your lungs had forgotten how to work. your hands trembled, but you curled them into fists. you looked at joel. his eyes were locked on marlene, but you could see it in his face. the way his shoulders had gone rigid, the way his fingers were holding onto the edge of the bed.

—we didn't tell her, we didn't cause her any fear, there won't be pain.

—no, no, no, no... —you muttered under your breath, pushing yourself up from the bed. your legs trembled, barely holding your weight, but you didn’t care. you needed to get to the door and you needed to get to her. one of the two guards flanking the exit moved and with no warning, the back of his rifle cracked against your legs.

your knees gave out, hitting the floor hard. —hey! —joel shouted. he was on his feet in an instant but the second guard was faster. the butt of his rifle slammed into joel’s side, and he dropped too, falling to his knees next to you.

marlene looked down to both of you. she pressed her lips together and just mumbled an i'm sorry, i have no other choice.

—we do, —joel said. his whole body tensed, ready to snap. you didn’t have to look at him to feel it, you had the same expression. fury. grief. betrayal. you looked up at marlene through teary eyes. yours were filled with disbelief, desperation, joel's eyes were pure wrath.

marlene shook her head looking at you two, —walk them out to the highway, leave them there. if they try anything, shoot them.

one of the guards grabbed joel by the arm, dragging him roughly to his feet. you tried to get up but the second guard didn’t wait. he shoved the barrel of his rifle against your back, hard, making you fall back to your knees. joel clenched his jaw, approaching the second guard but before he could reach him, the first guard grabbed him by his shoulder and yanked him back.

—don’t ever touch her again, —joel growled, eyes locked on the one who pushed you.

in that moment, you still on your knees and joel standing in front of you, you shared a glance, like two ends of a loaded wire. the same thought crossed your minds: we get out of here dead or with ellie. joel’s eyes darkened just enough for you to know he’d already chosen. you felt the same burning in your chest. you'd chosen too.

you left marlene behind and the guards got you through the hospital. you two walked between them. joel ahead of you, his hand behind him, stretched just enough so his fingers could find yours. you reached out, not hesitating, lacing your fingers with his in the space between you.

joel stopped halfway down the stairs, the guards barked a move! and pushed you forward. you both stumbled down a few steps. his hand held yours tighter and you understood that it was time. he slammed his elbow into the first guard’s face, bone meeting bone with a crack. the man stumbled back, you ducked and moved aside, slipping out of the way just in time as joel grabbed the first guard’s rifle before it hit the ground, and without even looking, aimed it toward the second guard.

bang.

you grabbed the dead man's rifle from the floor, and in one fluid motion, aimed it at the first guard still conscious. he was against the wall, one hand pressed over his bloodied nose. joel raised his rifle beside you. —where is she? —you asked.

—fuck you, —he said. and before he was done, you pulled the trigger.

joel and you looked at each other. there was no going back, whatever waited for you above, you were going to face it. together. you gave him a small nod. joel turned and started up the stairs, rifle raised, steps quiet. you followed close behind, watching his back like he watched yours.

you made your way to the top floor. every hallway was fire, every corner, another shadow with a gun. but you didn’t slow down. joel was just ahead, or just behind, depending on who needed cover. you moved like you'd done this a thousand times together. each time you pulled the trigger, each time a firefly dropped to the ground dead, it wasn’t hate in your chest. it was fear, desperation.

it was family.

you didn’t see enemies, you saw obstacles between you and her. between the three of you, between what the world wanted to take and what you refused to give up. your feet moved faster than your thoughts which is why you didn’t see him. he came out of nowhere, rushing from a side hall. his knife drove down into your arm, really close to your shoulder. the man pushed forward, trying to pin you, but before he could finish what he started

bang.

a single shot, clean, perfect, straight through the head, and his body hit the floor. joel was already there, eyes sharp, his focus was all on you. —shit, —joel lowered his rifle after the shot as he muttered with anger at the world, at the fireflies, at the fact that you were bleeding in front of him. —hold on. i got you.

your breath came in short gasps, the pain was sharp, the blood was hot, soaking through your shirt, running fast down your arm but the adrenaline was stronger. you shook your head, —we keep going.

he didn’t argue, he saw the determination on your face. he thought about it before he nodded once, jaw tight. you had to get to ellie.

the flickering light at the end of the hallway caught your attention. joel and you had cleared it, bodies left behind in silence and blood, rifles low now but ready. the echo of the last shot still seemed to ring in your ears, the pain in your arm ran through your whole body. joel stepped closer to the door, breath measured, eyes locked on it. he raised the barrel of his rifle and pressed it gently to the metal, pushing it open inch by inch.

joel lowered his rifle when he saw her. you straightened your back despite the weight of pain pulling you down and you lowered your rifle too. what did they do to her? what were they planning on doing to her? how could you have put it directly into the wolf's mouth? she was unconscious on the operating table. pale. still. surrounded by blue gowns and gloved hands.

—unhook her.

one of the doctors turned, startled. without a second thought, his hand grabbed the scalpel on the table beside him and also without a second thought, joel shot him. he didn't flinch, neither did you because if joel hadn’t made that shot, you would’ve.

—unhook her! —you repeated what joel said.

the nurses moved fast, trying to avoid the same fate as the doctor. the monitors stopped beeping and they pulled the needle free from her arm, and you saw the small, shallow prick of blood that followed.

—turn around, —joel ordered to the nurse, aiming his gun at them.

you approached ellie quickly, your heart hammering in your chest. you gently caressed her hair and leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, —we're here, you're safe, —you mumbled to her in case she could hear you.

joel was completely numb, his eyes were distant, as if he was still processing how you almost lost her. he moved quickly, almost mechanically, to the small supply closet in the corner of the room. he grabbed bandages, alcohol, thread and needles, anything that could be used to treat you and put it inside his pack. then he reached you and ellie, his focus shifted completely. his hand gently passed down ellie’s neck and with the same careful movement, he slid his other hand behind her knees, lifting her just a little more securely in his arms, his grip solid but not too tight.

the nurses stood frozen, their backs to you, hands raised in silent surrender. they didn’t dare move, barely breathed. they’d seen your faces. they’d seen what you and joel were willing to do. it wasn’t personal, but they were witnesses now and you couldn’t leave anyone who might come back for ellie. or for you. or for joel.

your shot echoed in the sterile, tense air, a sound so sharp it almost didn’t seem real, and the nurses fell to the floor.

you stepped out of the operating room first, your rifle at the ready. behind you, joel moved with ellie in his arms. you reached the elevator, your eyes scanning the empty hallway, but the quiet was short. the sound of approaching footsteps echoed down the corridor, drew your attention. you tensed, instinctively raising your rifle.

—you go with ellie, i'll take care of that.

joel's voice came softer, almost pleading. —don't make me leave you.

you turned your head just enough to meet his eyes. you stepped in close, your free hand rising to cradle the back of his neck, forehead to forehead. —i'll meet you in the parking lot, i swear. get her safe.

joel stepped into the elevator as the footsteps rounded a corner far down the hall, still unseen but coming fast. the doors began to close and you gave him a small nod of reassure. you stayed back against the edge of the elevator shaft, just out of sight, waiting for the person to get to where you were hiding.

her braid hung low and her hand trembled around the grip of her gun. she stood in front of the door like she wasn’t ready to go in, like some part of her still didn’t want to believe what might be waiting for her inside. and you shot her. quick. right in the back of her head and she fell to the floor like a marionette with its strings cut. she was young, probably a few years older than ellie but you had no choice, it was you or her.

you took the elevator, feeling the dizziness of your wound finally hit you. your hand moved to your arm and you hissed when you pressed to stop it from bleeding anymore. when you got to the parking lot, you heard a voice.

—it's not too late. even now, even after what you two have done. we can still find a way.

marlene.

you walked slowly, trying to go unnoticed, until you realized there was a gun in her hand aimed directly at joel and ellie, her finger already on the trigger. you didn’t think. you didn’t wait. you couldn’t lift your rifle with both hands, your injured arm hung useless by your side, so you raised it with one. it shook under the weight, your hold unsteady, vision narrowing. but your aim? your aim was clear. the bullet hit her low in the back and she fell to the ground.

joel moved fast, cradling ellie tighter. he opened the back door of the car and eased ellie inside, laying her across the seats as gently as he could, brushing her forehead before pulling your jacket tighter around her. then he turned in a hurry, eyes scanning until they landed on you. you were leaning against the wall now, rifle still in one hand, the other gripping your bleeding side, your knees looked ready to give out.

—got you, —he muttered, breath hot against your temple. you nodded, swallowing a groan as you moved. every step felt like fire, but he kept one arm firmly around your hips, guiding you to the car.

you stopped. joel felt it and he turned with you, both of you staring down at marlene where she lay on the floor, blood pooling slowly beneath her. her hand was raised, shaking, reaching toward you.

—wait, wait, wait, no. please. let me go.

your rifle was still in your hand, but lowered now. joel looked at you, not pressuring, just watching. the choice was yours.

—you’d never stop. —your voice quiet. —you’d come for her again.

and you shot one last time into her head. no hesitation. you leaned into joel without a word, your weight folding into the side of his body as his arm around your hips tightened, steadying you. he helped you to get to the car, his grip never leaving you.

you fell into the passenger seat with a grunt, the door slamming shut beside you as joel slid in behind the wheel. he didn’t waste a second. the engine roared, tires squealing, —press your arm, —he said, eyes moving from the road to you and back. you needed to get as far as possible from the fireflies before even thinking about stop and focus on the pain at your arm. and you did as he said, your hand to your wound, wincing hard, your fingers slick with blood.

a couple of miles passed like a blur. he drove in silence. ellie lay unconscious in the backseat, small and pale under your jacket. you were in the passenger seat, blood soaking through your shirt and running down your arm. his heart beating so hard against his ribs he swore you could hear it. he pulled off the road without warning, parking behind a cluster of rusted-out cars lining an overgrown roadside. joel rubbed his forehead. he slammed the driver’s door shut and came around to your side of the car.

he crouched down, eyes scanning your face before dropping to the blood still soaking your side. —shit, —he muttered. joel's hand careful pinched your chin. —hey. look at me. you still with me? —you gave a small nod. —alright, i'm gonna get you out of the car. you need fresh air and i'll patch you up. —he helped you to get out, his hands holding your hips as he closed the door behind you and sat you on the ground, letting you rest your back against the car. joel grabbed the pack from the back seat, dropping to his knees by your side. he started digging through the supplies he had grabbed from the or.

you swallowed hard as you watched joel rip the sleeve of your shirt with the knife. the alcohol from your flask hitting your wound was the worst, the sting was almost unbearable. then he reached for the needle, his hands trembling more than you’d ever seen before which made it very hard for him pass the threat through the needle's eye. his hands were still unsteady as he began to stitch the wound, the needle going through your skin, pulling the edges together. you closed your eyes shut and held your breath, your fingers dug into the dirt beside you.

—breathe. please. you're scaring the hell outta me.

you opened your eyes, met his, and let out the breath you didn’t realize you were still holding.

—hurts like hell, —you whispered, the corners of your mouth twitching, like you were trying to make it a joke but didn’t quite have the strength.

—i know, `m sorry. i'm almost done.

you looked down at your stitched-up wound, the edges of your torn skin now held together in a rough but solid line. blood still stained the surrounding skin and joel's hands but it wasn’t pouring out anymore. he carefully wrapped a clean bandage around your arm, putting a little pressure on the wound to make sure it stayed in place. —you did great, joel. thank you.

you closed your eyes and let your head rest against the metal of the car. joel sat next to you, his arms hung loosely on his knees. you hadn’t had time to process what you just did. the violence, the blood, the choices.

—we did what we had to do.

you nodded slowly, —we couldn't lose her, joel. she's like our-

you stopped before the word left your lips. daughter. but it hung there anyway—unspoken but clear. ellie was more than just a kid. she was more than just a cargo. joel didn’t need to hear the word to understand.

—yeah, she is.

you sat there together for a moment, enjoying the silence as your head rested on his shoulder. he didn’t speak, but his arm around you told you he was just as lost in his thoughts. then, without a word, before getting into the car again, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. and joel drove, as fast as he could, to jackson.

ellie rubbed her eyes in the backseat. joel's hands on the steering wheel tightened, your back tensed. she tried to sit but the effects of the anesthesia were still there, —it's alright, you're with us. take it slow, the drugs are still wearing off.

—i was with the fireflies and the... what drugs?

joel swallowed and you decided to talk for him. you told her they had run tests, that it turned out she wasn’t the only one and there were others like her, people who were immune. you said the doctors tried everything, but none of it worked. that all their research for a cure had led nowhere. and that they’d stopped trying.

she took a second before answering. then, she asked for her clothes, after noticing that she was wearing an hospital gown. joel told her there had been raiders. that things got messy. he said you barely made it out. you stayed quiet beside him, the lie sat on top of the others, fragile but necessary.

—were people hurt?

joel nodded. she noticed joel's hands on the steering wheel with dried blood and the way you held your arm close to your body, the dark patch of blood that had seeped through the edge of the bandage.

—is marlene okay?

you swallowed but said nothing. joel didn’t answer either. ellie waited but that silence told her more than any words could. she turned her back, curling into herself. joel took your hand, the one resting on your leg. his thumb brushed lightly over your skin, comforting, like a reminder of the words he said before,

we did what we had to do.

[fallenbratfiction]

Mustache Deal ~ javier peña x f! reader

✧ ┈┈┈┈┈ *.⋆ ✧ ⋆.* ┈┈┈┈┈ ✧

A/N: This is the only way I have to motivate myself to study for midterms.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: explicit sexual content. face riding (f! reader receiving oral), mustache riding, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) piv, praise kink, light sub/dom dynamic, javi being commanding and bossy, overstimulation, rough language such as cussing, power play (deal, reward), javier manhandling gently, dacryphilia, I fucking love his mustache, god I love every mustache honestly. it's a warning itself.

✦ no thoughts, just javier's mustache ✦  

❝ This story is intended for mature audiences only. Reader discretion is strongly advised. Minors DNI. I am not responsible as for what you choose to consume.❞

do not copy, translate or claim any of my work as your own.

✧ ┈┈┈┈┈ *.⋆ ✧ ⋆.* ┈┈┈┈┈ ✧

“Javi,” you call his name as you lean on the door frame of the living room.

He’s smoking a cigarette on the couch, his head thrown back against the headboard.

“Javi” you whine calling him again trying to catch his attention. Javier turns his head to look at you. You’re wearing one of his large shirts and old boxer briefs of his.

“Ven aquí amor” he calls and you paddle through the living room to get to him and sit on his lap facing him. His hands set on your sides stroking your thighs. “What’s up baby?”

“I want to ride your face” you bite your lip confessing to him. You feel like squirming at the thought, the thought that hasn’t let you study for the past hour or two.

“Is that so?” He raises a brow and leans in pressing his lips to yours. “How’s studying going?”

You groan and dip your face on the crook of his neck. You don’t want to talk about it or even think. It’s so much reading material it feels eternal. Javier chuckles and plays with your hair.

“You gotta study, how else you going to become a professional?” You let out an annoyed groan at the scolding. “I can’t focus, too busy thinking of getting myself off with your mustache”

He clears his throat and you grind slowly on his lap. He holds you in place. He hates to be the annoying old man but he can’t let you throw all your effort away for him, even if he wished that himself.

“How about a deal, hmm?” If you study for the rest of the afternoon, I’ll let you ride my face”

“But I want it now, I need it”

“It’s an offer, answer is yes or no.”

You huff and roll your eyes at him. “Fine, yes, deal or whatever”

You try get up from his lap annoyed but he pulls you back in.

“Eh, eh, eh, beso.” You grin and bring your lips to his, brushing softly before giving in to the kiss. Your tongue is playing around until you get too playful. “Okay, go study now, and I better see your head dived into a book when I walk past.”

You sigh dramatically as you slide off his lap, bare legs brushing against his jeans just to be a menace. Javier smacks your ass lightly as you pass, and you whip your head around to glare at him. He just raises a brow, smug.

“Pórtate bien,” he calls after you, tapping the ash from his cigarette into a tray. "Or the deal’s off."

You mutter something under your breath about bossy men and their stupid beautiful mouths and mustaches, but he just laughs — low and lazy — and you feel it in your bones.

You plop down at the kitchen table, yanking your notes toward you, pen in hand. When you risk a glance over your shoulder, you catch him watching you through the haze of smoke, head tipped, smile tugging at his mouth like he’s the one suffering here. Like he wants you to fail, just to have an excuse to bend you over the couch instead.

You grit your teeth, heart pounding, and bury your head in your book. Fine, just a few more chapters and you get your reward.

You bury yourself in your textbook, underlining, highlighting, pretending the words make any goddamn sense when all you can feel is the heat of Javier’s gaze drifting toward you from the couch.

A few minutes later, you hear the soft tap of his boots on the floor. Then — his hand slides slowly along your back, fingertips brushing your spine over his old t-shirt you're wearing. You tense immediately, biting your lip, eyes glued to the same stupid paragraph for the fifth time.

"¿Cómo vas, amor?" His voice is smug, lazy, and soaked in amusement.

"I'm studying," you mutter, refusing to look up, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing how wrecked you already are.

He hums thoughtfully, standing behind your chair. One hand drops to your shoulder, massaging gently, while the other lazily skims the curve of your waist — distracting, distracting, distracting.

"You sure?" he teases, his mouth brushing your ear. "Doesn't look like you’ve turned a page in a while."

You squeeze your thighs together under the table, breath hitching. His thumb strokes just under the hem of your borrowed shirt, teasing warm skin.

"Javi, please." You can’t help it, the way it comes out — whiny, desperate, your patience fraying fast.

He laughs under his breath, low and rough. God, he loves you like this — needy and squirming and just barely holding it together.

But instead of mercy, he leans down even closer, lips brushing the shell of your ear. "A deal’s a deal, mami." His voice is velvet. Mean velvet. "You study. You earn it."

You groan and drop your forehead dramatically against the textbook. He chuckles and straightens up, pressing a single, chaste kiss to the crown of your head before stepping away.

You hear him settle back onto the couch with a satisfied sigh, like he hasn't just turned you inside out.

"Better hurry, bonita," he calls lazily from across the room. "I’m gonna start charging interest if you take too long."

"That's not fair!" you shout over your shoulder.

Javier just shrugs from the couch, all smug and relaxed like he didn’t just ruin your entire existence with one sentence.

You huff, slamming your highlighter down dramatically — but fine. Two can play dirty. You shove your headphones on, blasting music loud enough to drown out even your filthy thoughts, and dive headfirst into your notes.

You read. You memorize. You highlight until the words blur.

You lock in.

For him, for you. For the deal.

Hours pass. The light shifts. Your brain feels like melted cheese but — you did it. You did it.

You yank your headphones off and spring out of your chair, victorious, feeling like a goddamn warrior.

And then— You don’t just walk over to him. You strut.

A little swing in your hips, bare thighs on display in his old boxer briefs. You toss your hair over your shoulder just to be a brat. Maybe even hum a little song under your breath like you’re on a catwalk.

Javier watches you approach, lazy smirk curling, cigarette burning low between his fingers. He leans back, spreads his legs wider on the couch, tilting his head as you sashay right up to him.

You stop right between his knees, hands on your hips, grinning down at him.

"Finished my work," you say sweetly, sickly sweet. "Can I have my reward now, daddy?"

He exhales slow, smoke curling out from the corner of his mouth. His pupils are black.

"Cabrón," he mutters under his breath, flicking the cigarette into the tray and grabbing your hips. "Come here."

He pulls you down onto his lap in one swift tug, mouth crashing into yours — all teeth and tongue and victorious, hungry kisses.

His hands slip under your shirt, palming your ass possessively. "You sure you finished everything, baby?" he mumbles against your lips.

You nod rapidly, too dizzy to even pretend otherwise. "Uh-huh. All of it."

"Good girl," he rasps.

Javier grins against your skin, then leans back just enough to catch your face in his hand, thumb stroking your cheek lazily. His voice is low, rough, full of promise:

"Let's go get your reward then, hermosa."

You scramble off his lap with a speed that makes him chuckle under his breath. He grabs your hand, intertwining your fingers, and the two of you walk down the hall together — you practically drag him toward the bedroom.

Once inside, he falls back onto the bed with a heavy, relaxed thud, legs spreading slightly, arms thrown casually behind his head. He watches you — starving — as you stand at the foot of the bed.

Without a second thought, you yank his shirt off over your head, tossing it to the floor, the boxers quickly following. Your skin prickles under his gaze — the way his eyes drag over you slowly, reverently, like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"Mierda..." he mutters when you kick the last piece of clothing away and start crawling up his body.

You plant your hands on his stomach first, feeling the hard muscle flex under your touch, and slowly, deliberately, you crawl up his torso. His hands find your thighs immediately, thumbs stroking slow circles into your skin as you straddle his chest.

His eyes meet yours — dark, heated, full of something that makes your stomach flip. His mustache twitches with a smirk.

His hands tighten around your thighs, strong and unyielding, and before you can even catch your breath, he pulls you up — guiding you to sit right over his mouth, caging himself under you like you’re his whole goddamn world.

A low, hungry groan vibrates against you the second you make contact. Your hands shoot out, scrambling for purchase against the headboard, his hair, anything — because the second his mouth seals against you, it's over.

"Go on, mami," he rasps, the words rumbling against your skin. "Ride."

The first thing you notice — the first thing that sends your head spinning — is the feel of his mustache dragging against your skin. It's perfect.

Javier licks a slow, heavy stripe up your folds, savoring the taste, the wetness, and the heat as you begin to ride his face. His hands hold your sides and press you down harder against him, keeping you in place.

Every time his tongue flicks up, every time he moves his mouth a little rougher or tilts his chin just right, that coarse scrape of his mustache follows — rubbing against your sensitive clit, setting you on fire.

You whimper — high and broken — grinding helplessly against his mouth, chasing every stroke, every brush.

"Fuck, Javi—" you gasp, voice cracking. "Your— your mustache—"

He groans deep in his chest like he likes hearing it, like he knows exactly how filthy it feels. The vibration shoots through your whole body.

He tilts his head slightly, dragging his mustache deliberately across you — slow, teasing — while he sucks your clit into his mouth and laps at you like he’s savoring every single second.

"You like that, mami?" he mutters against you, voice gravelly and dripping with dark amusement. His mustache brushes again, torturously slow. "That's what you've been thinking about all afternoon?"

You're panting, gasping his name, nails digging into his chest as you start to lose the rhythm, thighs trembling from the intensity.

He pulls back just enough to growl against your skin: "Don’t you dare run from it, baby. You earned this. Take it."

And then he dives back in — rough, messy, hungry — licking and sucking you mercilessly, not stopping even when your thighs start to shake around his head.

You can feel it building, molten and electric, heat curling tighter and tighter in your belly — and he knows. He feels it in the way your hips start stuttering, the desperate little whimpers spilling from your mouth.

He grabs your ass with both hands, keeping you firmly in place, refusing to let you escape the overwhelming pleasure.

"Come on," he rasps against you, voice low, coaxing, commanding. "Give it to me, hermosa. I want it. All of it."

You fall apart, crying out as you grind down relentlessly against his face as you ride out your orgasm, your vision blurring as you go through it.

The drag of his mustache against your sensitive swollen clit makes you scream and your thighs clamp around his head tighter.

He holds you through every second of it, savoring you, humming low in his chest like a man worshipping at his favorite altar.

"That's it, baby," he praises, voice rough and wrecked under you. "Use me. Take what you need."

And you do — grinding down, lost to the filthy heat of it, the unbearable, delicious scratch of his mustache sending you spiraling.

He doesn’t stop — licks you through it, slow and messy, until you're slumped against the headboard, panting and ruined, his face shining with you.

When you finally collapse beside him, limp and shaking, Javier wipes his mouth with the back of his hand — still looking like the smuggest, most satisfied man alive.

You’re still gasping, brain barely rebooting, when he tosses the pillow aside and rolls over, covering your body with his. Caging you beneath him, trapping you between his arms like you’re something precious — like he’s not letting you leave until he’s had his fill.

His mouth finds yours instantly — messy, hot, desperate. You can taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue, and instead of shying away, you lick into him, chasing the slick, musky taste, dizzy with it.

Javier groans deep in his chest, rutting his hips against yours with a low, broken noise.

"Mierda," he mutters into your mouth, dragging his lips down your jaw, then your neck — kissing, licking, nipping — like he can't get enough of you. He latches onto the soft spot just above your collarbone, sucking until you’re whimpering, until you know it’s going to leave a mark. Like he wants it to. Like he needs the whole fucking world to know you’re his.

When he drags his mouth lower — mouth warm and mustache scratching deliciously against your chest — you arch up into him without even thinking.

He nips at the swell of your breast, then closes his mouth around your nipple, tugging gently, sucking in a way that has you writhing under him.

You gasp, tugging at his hair, trying to say something — anything — but the words tangle in your throat.

"You're—" you manage to stammer, but it gets stuck. Your brain is gone. Melted.

He feels it — the way your chest stutters against him, the way your mouth opens but no words come out. He waits for it, pulling back just slightly, watching you try so hard to form a sentence, waiting for the sweet sound of your pretty little thoughts.

But there’s nothing. Just your ragged breathing, your wrecked expression, the way your hands weakly clutch at his arms like you’re trying to anchor yourself.

He grins — all wicked heat and filthy pride — because he knows he’s broken you. Knows he's turned that sharp, bratty tongue of yours into a trembling mess.

He leans down again, catching your nipple between his teeth, grazing it lightly — and you whine, helpless, overstimulated, back arching up into him like a magnet.

Javier lifts his head, looking down at you —his face flushed from exertion, his lips swollen from kissing you, his beard and mustache shining with the evidence of what he just did to you.

He smirks down at you, slow and dangerous, chest heaving against yours. And then, with an unbearable tenderness, he dips his head again and kisses you.

Your body melts under him, pliant and wrecked and warm, and he hums into the kiss, a lazy satisfied noise that vibrates through you.

When he finally pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, breathing heavy, his hands stroking slow circles on your hips.

"Still with me, hermosa?" he teases, voice rough, thick with affection.

You let out a broken little whimper, too far gone to form words. Your thighs rub together, seeking friction, instinctive and mindless.

He chuckles low in his chest, the sound sending shivers through you. Then, with a hand gentle but commanding, he nudges your thighs apart, settling himself between them. Javier fits himself inside you with a slow, heavy push, your wetness allowing him in easily. Like your body was made to take him. Like he belongs there.

You cry out softly, legs instinctively wrapping around his hips, trying to pull him impossibly closer. He groans deep in his chest, forehead dropping to yours as he sinks in fully — inch by inch — until there's no space left between you.

"Fuck, baby," he rasps, voice wrecked, thick with awe. "You feel so good... so fuckin' good wrapped around me."

You’re panting, mouth parted, eyes glassy and dazed, barely able to think — to breathe — around how full you feel.

And still — that cocky little smirk curves at the edge of his kiss-swollen mouth, even as his hips roll slow and filthy against you.

He presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, then your cheekbone, his voice dipping low and teasing:

"Still got some extra credit to earn, don't you think?"

✧ ┈┈┈┈┈ *.⋆ ✧ ⋆.* ┈┈┈┈┈ ✧

If all of this won't motivate me to study, then God help me, I don't know what will.

✦ this took time, love, & late-night agony ✦ reblogs are cherished. comments fuel me. thank you for the support ✨

Drop your ideas in the inbox! If you have any fic, blurb or ideas in general about Javier or any other Pedro character, send me and I'll deliver! The brat line is open 📞 read the ask box rules.

[orcasoul]

The Plus One

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

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

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

Word Count: 3,516

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[talaok]

Acting Normal

Pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader

Summary: Javi’s been thinking about that night every minute of every day, while you're acting like it never even happened, and if he doesn't do something about it, he's gonna lose his mind.

warnings: smut| fingering, protected p in v sex, dirty talk, javi being a simp, sex in the workplace, (it's not public but there's a possibility of getting caught)

a/n: I already know what to write for part 3, this couple is my new obsession lol

This is a part 2 to this story, but it can be read alone

Javi

This was really important stuff

He was really supposed to be listening

He was paid to listen to it,

that's what he kept repeating himself,

and yet- yet if someone asked him to repeat whatever Carillo was saying, he couldn't have spit out one singular word.

But it wasn't his fault, not really.

You must have been doing it on purpose, there was no way you were doing all that just accidentally.

Your lips were wrapped around the lollipop in a way that left nothing to the imagination- he could feel those lips on him, he knew how soft and sweet they were from kissing them, but around him... oh they would feel even sweeter, he was sure-

"If you're not gonna listen to me then why am I even here?"

It took Javier much too long to realize what Carillo had said

"I'm listening" he stated with enough confidence to fool anyone- except he was talking to one of the few people that could see right through his bullshit.

"I'm surprised you haven't done it yet" the Colonel shook his head, blowing out a cloud of smoke "I thought she would have given in by now"

"I don't know what you're talking about"

Carillo couldn't help but laugh.

"You've been obsessed with her since she first arrived"

Javier hadn't even noticed that his gaze was back on you... or that his colleague had spoken again.

"yeah," Carillo chuckled, patting Javi's back "I'll just talk to Murphy"

And that was that, Carillo was gone, and Peña was left at a desk at the corner of the room, staring at you with the intensity with which a lion watches a gazelle.

He didn't know what the fuck to do.

To be completely honest with himself, he'd made a fucking mess.

He'd always been attracted to you, I mean there's not much of you that any man could find not hot, and sure, he'd spent about a year flirting with you as you rolled your eyes at him... but that's just how he was- he never thought it'd ever actually happen- and now...

Now he was fucked

You seemed so incredibly normal around him, like that night a week ago had been just a perfect dream, while him- fuck he couldn't even look at you without picturing how perfect you looked from between your tighs.

He'd thought he could manage to just do it that one time, to get it out of his system... what a stupid fucking bastard- he'd only made everything ten times worse.

And the worst part was that you didn't seem affected by it, not even a little bit- like now, there you were, looking all concentrated and everything, your brows furrowed, your bare legs crossed, one of them swinging ever so often, and your lips... your lips wrapped around the candy were an image sent straight from heaven.

Fuck- he was half fucking hard just by looking at you.

He needed to do something- now- or he was gonna go fucking crazy.

__ __ __

"can I have a talk with you for a moment?"

He was leaning over your desk, not doing a great job of masking his desire.

You, on the other hand, hadn't even looked up from the paper before you.

"what's up?"

what's up?

He'd made you squirt on your boss' desk for fuck's sake, and you tell him what's up??

"Just something I think you could help me out with, in the evidence room"

"now?" you winced, finally looking at him

"Yeah now"

__ __ __

"so what is it? did they misplace a file again-"

"How are you acting so normal?"

A gasp fled your mouth as you turned around and found him but an inch from you

"Jesus" you breathed "what are you talking about?"

"and who even eats lollipops past the age of five?"

He took a step closer and you took a step back, only for your back to hit the wall.

He'd cornered you.

"what is going on with you?" you hissed, only for him to take another slow step, and place his hand on the wall, right next to your head

"you, that's what's going on with me" his breath was fanning over your mouth, images of last week's night flashing both your minds "I've had the best sex of my life with you, and you're acting like it was just another Tuesday night"

"I-"

"I can still taste you on my tongue, I can still feel you around me, and you look at me like I'm nothing more than a fucking colleague y/n"

"Javier-"

"And then" he chuckled darkly, interrupting you once again "and then you have the nerve to suck on a fucking lollipop right in front me-"

A soft laugh couldn't help but bubble up your throat at that.

"Did that seriously... turn you on?"

"So what if it did?" he purred, his left hand finding your waist and forcing you off the wall and flush against him, against the blatant proof of his arousal.

You gasped, your hands clutching the shirt covering his chest.

"you're worse than a hormonal teenager"

His eyes sparked with malice as he bent down, his mouth skimming your mouth and cheeks, leaving shivers in his passage, until he pressed his lips right below your ear.

"A hormonal teen that made you squirt for the first time in your life"

"Javier-" your voice had already reduced to a thread of a whimper.

Fuck him and his irresistible sex appeal.

He was right, no one had ever made you feel as good as he had, and as much as he thought you weren't affected by that knowledge, he'd be shocked to find out how difficult it proved not to squirm every time he merely looked at you.

Yes, of course you were constantly thinking about that night too.

"Tell me you don't think about it"

He was like a mind reader

You stayed silent, conscious that any response you could give would inevitably give you away.

"That's what I thought" A snicker rumbled from his chest, his hand moving from your waist to slide underneath the hem of your skirt.

You hummed, your brain only half functioning as he continued to trail hot wet kisses down your throat.

"W-what are you doing?" you tried to speak normally without success.

"what does it look like I'm doing?" he smirked, his hand now fully cupping your clothed core, making you whine "What I've been thinking of doing for a whole damn week- so I don't lose my mind"

Two of his fingers were circling the wet spot on your panties when a phone rang from the other room, making your eyes snap open.

What the fuck were you doing?

You were at work- anyone could come in at any moment.

"Javier wait," you said, finally getting your voice back to normal.

"what is it, sweetheart?" from the way his eyes were still a thousand shades darker and blatantly staring at your mouth you could have guessed the danger of being caught didn't trouble him one bit.

"We can't"

He groaned frustratedly then, his head falling between your neck and shoulder

"why not sweetheart?"

"are you serious?" a quick laugh bubbled up your throat "we're at work"

"so?"

"so?" you parroted, only your voice was heightening with exasperation "so anyone could catch us at any given moment"

A soft smirk pulled at his lips, the hand that was still on your wall going to your waist to get you flush against him

"Are you ashamed of me sweetheart?" he teased

"Well, to be completely honest having sex with the biggest slut in Columbia isn't exactly my highest moment"

He feigned a gasp, his hot breath fanning over your own parted mouth

"Me? A slut?"

"yeah, you" You couldn't fight the smile pulling at your lips.

There he was, doing it again- making all your common sense fly out the window with his godforsaken charm.

"c'mon baby, I'll be quick"

And although you didn't want to, you could see yourself starting to consider his proposal.

"that's supposed to convince me?" you arched a brow, an amused smile pulling at your lips

"What, you think I can't make you come quickly?" he purred, his hand going to your ass in a swift move to grab at it.

You bit down a whine "Well I don't know"

"tell me you don't want it" he teased, the fingers on your core starting a torturous path up and down your still-clothed, but unbelievably drenched, slit "That you don't want this"

His fingers had trespassed your panties and had now found your raw skin, making you gasp

"anyone could come in us, including Messina" you added breathlessly

"I locked the door" he promised, his forehead on yours as his ring and middle finger gently found their way inside of you.

"a-and what if someone needs to get in?" you tried your best not to moan, but the way he curled his fingers made it so very fucking difficult

"then we'll tell them to fuck off" he murmured, his mouth now touching yours, but still not kissing you.

"If we get caught I'm gonna kill you, we clear?"

"yes ma'am" he smirked, his breath mixing with yours

"now- may I kiss you, baby?"

You rolled your eyes before answering "Yes, you may"

And just like that, he was devouring you, his lips crashing with yours and his tongue sliding into your mouth to explore every inch of it, gaining dominance on your own in a matter of seconds.

"fuck I missed this" he groaned, his fingers suddenly speeding up and robbing you of all ability to tease him about his words "these fucking lips are gonna be the death of me"

Your mouth was open as you desperately tried to get oxygen to your lungs, but he didn't care, he took your bottom lip into his mouth and started sucking, his fingers fastening their pace as the filthy sound of your wetness bounced off the walls of the room.

"tell me you thought about it too" he growled, his palm making contact with your clit and forcing you to gasp as your hips started grinding onto it, onto his hand, sparks of pleasure staining your vision. "tell me I'm not the only crazy one baby"

You bit your lip to stifle a moan as you felt yourself grow closer to a release.

"shit- you look so fucking hot when you're about to come"

"I-" your eyes were squeezed shut, but you could feel the heat of his stare on you, the way his eyes never left you, not even as he kissed your neck, the soft stubble of his mustache tickling your skin "I've thought about it too javi"

The satisfied groan he let out told you just about everything you needed to know.

"When?" he asked, his voice hoarse, his fingers relentless

"A-always" you whimpered, "e-everytime I look at you"

shit- maybe you shouldn't have said that

"yeah?" a wolfish grin tugged at his lips "You think about me? about my cock? my fingers? my tongue?"

You mewled at his words, at the memory they brought with them, at how fucking good he was making you feel-

"J-Javi please"

"what?" he breathed, his mouth on yours again, your hips grinding shamelessly onto his hand "You're gonna come baby, 's that it?"

"y-yeah- fuck- I-"

he knew the signs by now, he knew those desperate breathless sounds you made just as you reached your peak- and god did he fucking love them

"come for me- come baby" he murmured, his lips crushing with yours to stifle your moans just as your walls spasmed around his digits- wave after wave of pleasure coursing through your body.

Oh how he loved seeing the strong fiery woman he saw every day come apart beneath him, all your walls crumbling down 'till there was just pure lust and pleasure beneath your eyes, 'till your body went limp and clung to him for support.

"fuck" you breathed your eyes finally opening again, only to find that his had never left yours. "I-" you gulped, but his lips were on yours again, his hands holding your face on each side, his fingers now out of you.

"w-we should get back," you said, mostly trying to remind yourself, of where you really were, of what you were really doing... but it was all so difficult when he was looking at you like that- when you could feel his hard cock straining against his jeans- the same one that had felt so fucking good inside of you.

"we should" he agreed, although a twisted grin played on his lips.

he was already kissing you again, exploring you again, and in no time you found yourself caged between him and a shelf filled with boxes of evidence, your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms around his neck.

Damn him

"People are gonna start wondering where we are"

"we're here... looking at evidence," he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, his hips grinding onto you, his mouth on the corner of your lips.

"fuck- fine," you murmured, the need for him stronger than anything at this point, even than the fear of getting fired.

He didn't waste a second- his dick was out in a heartbeat, and your panties were pulled to the side before you had even time to breathe.

His tip, his red, glistening tip found your entrance, making you gasp.

"c-condom" you suddenly remembered, your voice so feeble it was almost inaudible "Please tell me you've got a condom"

"fuck- you're right" he muttered, frustration tracing his tone "I should have one in my wallet"

Of course he had one in his wallet

His left hand reached into his back pocket, finding his wallet and taking the condom out of it as quickly as he could, throwing the wallet somewhere to the side.

You were supporting yourself all on your own as he rolled the condom onto his dick, which might sound easy... but seeing the state of your leg it really was a miracle.

It was all so fast, he seemed desperate as he guided his tip to your entrance, as he gripped your waist and kissed your lips while entering you.

He was so fucking big, definitely the biggest one you'd ever encountered, and not only that... but he fucking knew how to use it too.

It was impossible not to moan, and for him, it was impossible not to groan- let's just say the possibility of getting caught wasn't first on the list of things in your mind at the moment.

"fuckfuckfuck" you whimpered, letting out a soft cry when he finally bottomed out

"Jesus Christ you feel fucking perfect" he growled, his eyes on yours, his hands gripping your waist as he tried his best to give you a moment to adjust and not start to fuck you like an animal right away.

"J-Javi"

And that, that little plead in your voice was all he needed to hear.

There was no way the sound of your skin slapping with his couldn't be heard from outside.

He felt so fucking good- criminally so.

"oh my g-" you had to bite down on something, and the little sliver of skin his shirt didn't cover right where his shoulder met his neck seemed much too perfect for your need.

He groaned, the bastard fucking groaned in pleasure as your teeth sank down into his skin, and you swore to god you could have come from that sound alone.

Your hands were laced between his neck, fingers taking hold of whatever hair you could grab, as he thrust up into you like a man starved, and you did all you could to meet his movements with the same urgency.

It had only been a week, and yet it felt like it'd been an eternity- a torturous, awful eternity of daying yourself of this.

"been thinking about this every fucking minute this week" his voice was breathy, hoarse, as he whispered to your ear "about this perfect fucking pussy of yours- about your mouth, about how- Fuck me-" his own growl interrupted him, your walls were squeezing him much too fucking tight "how good you taste, how hot you look when I'm eating you out- about this fucking perfect body of yours" he purred "Jesus christ you make me lose my mind"

You couldn't help but moan, moan at his words, at his pace, at the way his touch sent sparks flying in your belly- it was all too much.

"You've gotta be quiet baby" he murmured as you raised your head to look at him, to beg him for something- anything.

"I know sweetheart, I know" he breathed, his lips skimming yours "I know issa lot"

And to think you couldn't even stand him seven days ago... look at you now- looking into his eyes pleadingly as he fucked you in the evidence room.

"Javi" you could only breathe as his mouth crashed with yours once again, "I'm gonna-"

"I know"

Of course he knew

And just like that, you were over the edge, his tongue in your mouth muffling your cries as his thrust got more erratic, and somehow even more powerful.

Once again, he'd given you the best orgasm of your life.

He tried to hold off to let you ride it out, but fuck him it was proving to be real fucking difficult.

And then you opened your eyes- your beautiful, dreamy, eyes that he'd been dreaming of for days and there was no point in fighting it anymore-

"F-fuck y/n- fuck-"

There was a loud thud somewhere behind you, but neither of you cared enough to look, or god forbid stop- there was only you, you, and the spectacular groan Javier fed you into a kiss as he finally reached his climax.

There was only the sound of your breathing, both your heavy breathings as you looked at each other- and then you smiled, and he couldn't help but do the same.

And then all of the sudden the sounds from the office started flowing into the room again.

Oh right

"we really have to get back"

"yeah" he halfheartedly agreed, slowly setting you back on your feet, only in doing so, something caught your eye.

"fuck"

There were files on the floor- there were files on the floor because you'd knocked down some of the boxes of evidence- and you hadn't even noticed.

Javier followed your line of sight, but while panic was setting in your heart, he began to smile

"don't laugh!" you hissed, "what the fuck do we do? How do we explain this?"

"we don't" he simply shrugged, closing his zipper back up as you quickly tried to make yourself presentable.

"What?"

"we were never here- now, get back out there"

"I-"

"trust me" he said, retrieving his wallet from the floor.

And for some fucking reason, you did- you trusted him.

"I hate you so much" you muttered, finally exiting the room.

Tg:@fallout-girl219

[leaawrites]

Can you please write an imagine in which reader and Pedro have a new born baby and he has to go to a meeting or filming. When he comes home he asks you to give the baby to him cause you had it all day and just domestic daddy Pedro. Maybe also some moments during the pregnancy?

Homesick

Pedro Pascal x wife!reader

Summary: Pedro being obsessed with his daughter and not letting go of her as soon as he can hold her again.

Warnings: fluff, bit of angst, This is my first time writing for Pedro, so I hope you like it and that it's alright!

Wordcount: 0.8k

Masterlist, Hollywood Masterlist

The house was quiet as Pedro came walking through the door. Shutting it just as quietly, though eagerly throwing his bag to the side and dashing through the hall to find what he'd been waiting for all this time.

In the living room, surrounded by birds chirping and sunlight, she was sat in the middle of it all. Surrounded by beauty just like hers. Looking over her shoulder with a small smile as his footsteps took. Standing up, her arms rocked up and down, finger playing with the little figure in her arms.

"Look who's home," she cooed to the baby in her arms. "Daddy's home!"

And when he saw her, he couldn't start describing what it felt like.

His heart was exploding, pumping his veins full of love and dazing his senses, yet it was all so quiet. The little squeals she gave from her mouth already, trying to imitate the words they were saying but not quite getting there yet. Her hands outstretched, recognizing him.

It brought tears to his eyes, emotions going overdrive. She recognized him. Knew who he was even when he'd only got to hold her twice. Once when she was born and a day later when he had to leave again, wanting to take her with him. He'd seen her over face time more than enough time, but this. This was different.

His fingers could sooth over her soft skin, he could talk to her properly and she would understand that he was there, not on the other side of the country. He was actually there.

"You wanna hold her?" It was a silly question, it truly was. Though as soon as she asked him, Pedro started nodding eagerly, already stretching out his finger for her to take.

Handing her over to him, she looked at her husband for a minute longer. His eyes softening, tears threatening to spill over. But he was happy, contempt about finally being home before having to go again in a few months.

"I'm never letting go of her." He'd said it the first time he held her, he'd said it again in that moment. This time he meant it though.

Whether he was cooking or answering emails or simply watching a movie, he'd hold her, talk to her, watch her sleep. Leaving his wife to sleep through the mornings, letting her rest her limbs and her body as a whole.

Still, in the middle of the night, the little girl was still waking up constantly. Screaming and crying. Waiting for someone to get her. It was scary, waking up in a dark room all alone. They both understood that, still Y/n groaned every time it happened.

It was a routine already, she would wake up at around 4 in the morning, go to her baby in the room next door and calm her down, eventually taking her with her to the big bed.

Though that night, she slept peacefully. Not a scream was heard to her. Not one motherly instinct kicking in from her tired eyes until the sun was out and she noticed what had happened. Without a second look around the room, she dashed through the hall, into the baby room only to find it empty. Panic rising up in her throat, making her breath strike shorter. Chest heaving up and down in small periods of time.

Looking into every room on her way towards the living room. There was nothing in sight. No little noise was heard.

Eyes darting around the room, her gaze caught sight of the little toy laying in front of the sofa. Walking around it, her heart swelled with love at the sight in front of her eyes.

Pedro was cuddled up on the sofa with her in his arms. Both peacefully asleep.

Walking over to them, she sat on the end where his head was placed. Fingers softly racking through his hair. A quiet moan escaping his lips at the contact he'd been graving for months on end. Lifting his head up and playing it on her tight, he started kissing her bare skin, his arms protectively tightening around the small body in his arms.

"Morning," he mumbled against her skin. His beard tickling her leg, making her laugh.

"I was worried," she said, making him nod, urging her to complain further. Still half asleep he listened to her. "I didn't wake up from her crying and when I went to look she wasn't in her crib."

"'M sorry," Pedro mumbled, still not opening his eyes. "I took care of it. Didn't want to wake you, so I went here. She likes it here."

"I think she just likes you."

At that, he smiled. Lips curling up without a second though.

"But if you keep going like this, she'll forget me sooner or later," she said, referring to his constant attachment to his daughter.

"I don't care, I just want to hold her."

[sarcasmismyonlydefense24]

"Not all men..."

Yeah your right José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal would never treat me like this

[meet-me-backstage]

༺ 🐑 ༻

𝐎𝐟 𝐃𝐮𝐬𝐭, 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐨

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ☼ Rancher!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

𝑇𝑤𝑜 𝑠𝑡𝑢𝑏𝑏𝑜𝑟𝑛 𝑖𝑑𝑖𝑜𝑡𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠！

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ☼ You, a headstrong—bubbly ranch-hand, form a close bond with the reserved ranch-owner, Joel Miller, through two seasons of hard work, warmth, and unspoken longing. You leave to chase your dream, but circumstance brings Joel back into your life. A storm rolls over your land, something between you stirs—unresolved and waiting to burst.

𝑭𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇, 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕, 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈!

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ☼ a two-part no outbreak au loosely inspired by Far From The Madding Crowd but it’s set in modern day/Texas, rancher!Joel (🥵), protective!Joel, grumpy x sunshine, bad language, light angst, mention of vomit & there’s blood after an incident with a hammer, age gap (reader is in her 20s & Joel is in his 50s), kinda slowburny, unresolved feelings (until they aren’t hehe), yearrrrrning and SMUUUUT so you must be 18+ to read this story‼️

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 (𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬!) ↯

𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐓𝐰𝐨

𝐶𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 (???)

𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

𝑇𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑒𝑛𝑗𝑜𝑦!

𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐫 ‘𝐎𝐟 𝐃𝐮𝐬𝐭, 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 & 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐨’ 𝐭𝐚𝐠-𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭! 🫶

༺ 🐑 ༻

[theetherealbloom]

IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU - CH.5

Chapter Five: As If The Street Lights Pointed In An Arrowhead Leading Us Home

Summary: You find yourself sharing a hotel suite with Pedro Pascal while working on the set of Fantastic Four: First Steps. Despite your different roles—he’s the star, and you’re behind the scenes. Nothing could ever happen between you two… right?

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Age-Gap Romance (Not Specified), Eventual SMUT, Crush, FLUFF, Slight Angst, Trope(s), Swearing, Anxiety, Lots of Cliches, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Swoonworthy, One-Room Trope, They were roommates, Strangers-to-Lovers, Actors, Hallmark Tropes, the reader can sing and play guitar, the reader is shorter than Pedro, the reader has hair, Alternate Universe, Awkward!Reader, Shy!Reader, Fan Girl!Reader, Cringe, Embarrassment, Starstruck,

Word Count: 6.5k

A/N: Sorry for the wait on this chapter! I was busy writing chapter one of my Richard Reeds fanfic, and my brain went into overdrive. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter, and my thoughts and writing process will be in the end notes below! Take care out there.

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

Song: Cornelia Street by Taylor Swift

Previous Chapter → Next Chapter | Series Masterlist |Main Masterlist|

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — MORNING  

It was the weekend.  

A rare, golden thing in the middle of a chaotic schedule. Sometimes, productions pushed through weekends, forcing actors and crew alike to run on fumes and caffeine, but this week, you’d been given the luxury of a proper break.  

So you did the only logical thing: you slept in.  

No alarms. No early call times. No frantic scrambling to get out the door before the sun had even fully risen. Just the quiet hush of your hotel room, the soft cocoon of blankets, and the gentle hum of the city beyond your window.  

Pedro, on the other hand, was not sleeping in.  

He was downstairs earlier, enjoying breakfast with some of the crew, chatting between bites of eggs and toast. But when he realized he hadn’t seen you—not even a glimpse—something tugged at his chest.  

He checked his phone. No messages from you.  

Not that you had to text him, obviously. But still.  

“Maybe she’s still asleep,” Vanessa mused when he brought it up, sipping her coffee.  

Coco smirked. “Or avoiding you.”  

Pedro shot her a look, unimpressed. “You’re hilarious.”  

Joseph, ever the instigator, leaned in. “You do realize how weirdly invested you are in this, right?”  

Pedro ignored them, pushing back his chair. “I’m gonna go check on her.”  

“OoOoOo, someone’s worried,” Ebon teased, grinning.  

Pedro just flipped them off over his shoulder as he walked away.  

Your side of the room was quiet when he got there.  

Pedro knocked.  

Nothing.  

He frowned and knocked again, a little louder this time. “Hey, you alive in there?”  

Still nothing.  

His concern deepened. He knew you’d been exhausted lately, emotionally drained from the whole Cecilia situation. And yeah, maybe you were just catching up on sleep, but what if you weren’t feeling well? What if—  

He shook his head, pushing the thought away.  

A quick check with the front desk confirmed they had given you a key for emergencies. That was all the justification he needed.  

Carefully, Pedro let himself in.  

The room was dim, curtains drawn just enough to let in a sliver of London’s muted morning light. And there you were, curled up under a mountain of blankets, dead to the world.  

Snoring.  

Pedro exhaled, the tension in his chest dissolving as a slow, amused smile tugged at his lips.  

He took a step closer, just enough to take in the peaceful rise and fall of your shoulders, the way your hair was a little all over the place. A soft snore left your lips, making him chuckle under his breath.  

God, you were adorable.  

For a brief moment, he debated waking you. Teasing you for sleeping through breakfast, maybe even convincing you to come downstairs with him.  

But then you shifted, letting out the softest sigh as you burrowed deeper into the pillows, and—yeah. No. He couldn’t wake you.  

Instead, he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, just watching for a little longer.  

He’d give you another hour.  

Maybe two.  

And then, well—if you didn’t wake up soon, he’d have to find a way to lure you out with the promise of coffee or something just as tempting.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — LATE MORNING  

The late morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the room. Pedro had been patient—he really had—but after standing around for a while, listening to your soft snoring, he decided you needed to eat something.  

So he had slipped downstairs, grabbed a plate of fresh fruit, some pastries, and a glass of juice, and set everything neatly on the kitchenette counter before making his way back to your bedside.  

The problem?  

You were not a morning person.  

Pedro bit back a grin as you stirred, groaning into your pillow, clearly fighting consciousness with everything in you. He could already tell this wasn’t going to be an easy wake-up.  

“Alright, Sleeping Beauty,” he murmured, his voice laced with amusement. “Time to get up.”  

You groaned again, pulling the blanket over your head. “No.”  

Pedro chuckled. “Not even gonna think about it?”  

“No.”  

He exhaled, amused, and sat on the edge of the bed, nudging your shoulder lightly. “C’mon, I brought you breakfast. Fresh fruit, pastries, coffee… I even got you juice. Thought I was being nice.”  

That earned him a tiny peek of an eye from beneath the blanket. “What kind of juice?”  

He smirked. There we go.  

“Mango,” he answered, watching as you visibly debated with yourself. “And it’s still cold.”  

You groaned but finally—finally—sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you blinked blearily at him. “Fine. But if you’re lying about the juice, I’m going back to bed.”  

Pedro chuckled, standing up. “Noted.”  

As you shuffled out of bed and towards the kitchenette, still wrapped in your blanket like a grumpy little burrito, Pedro bit back another laugh.  

You were trying so hard not to snap at him, despite your obvious morning grumpiness, and he found it strangely endearing. You cared about him—he could see that. Not just in the way a fan might, but as someone who had gotten to know him, really know him, beyond the public persona.  

And for some reason, that made his chest feel warm.  

By the time you took your first sip of juice, you finally looked at him, still groggy but slightly more awake. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you grumbled.  

Pedro grinned. “I know.”

Pedro stayed leaning against the kitchenette counter, watching you with quiet amusement as you nibbled on a croissant, still wrapped up in your blanket like you might retreat back into it at any moment.  

"You know," he said, arms crossing over his chest, "I've worked with some pretty serious divas before, but you? You might be the worst morning person I've ever met."  

You narrowed your eyes at him mid-chew, unimpressed. "Bold of you to assume I’m even a person in the morning."  

Pedro laughed, rich and warm, like he hadn't expected you to say that. It sent a flutter through your stomach, but you buried it beneath another bite of food.  

A comfortable silence settled between you as you worked through your breakfast, the weight of last night—the teasing from your friends, the way Pedro had looked at you over dinner, the way he’d listened, really listened, when you brushed off your problems—lingering just beneath the surface.  

It should’ve been awkward. But it wasn’t.  

"So," he finally said, drumming his fingers against the countertop, "what’s the plan for your day off? Big, exciting plans to stay in bed all day?"  

You swallowed a sip of juice, tilting your head at him. "That was the dream, yeah."  

Pedro let out a soft scoff, pushing off the counter. "Nah. Not happening."  

You raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"  

"You’ve been working your ass off all week, and I don’t mean just putting up with the shoot," he said, giving you a knowing look. "I mean all of it. Everything. And since you clearly weren’t gonna tell me how much it was getting to you, I figure it’s my job to make sure you actually do something for yourself today."  

Your stomach twisted at that.  

He had noticed.  

Of course, he had.  

And now, instead of letting you bury it like you had all week, he was making it a thing.  

"Pedro," you sighed, setting your glass down. "I really don’t—"  

"Shh," he cut in, grinning as he pressed a finger to his lips. "No arguing."  

You stared at him, deadpan. "Did you just shush me?"  

"Yeah." He shrugged, completely unfazed. "It’s effective."  

You narrowed your eyes, trying very hard not to laugh. "You’re an idiot."  

"And yet," he said, nodding toward your now-empty plate, "an idiot who got you to wake up, eat breakfast, and seriously consider leaving this hotel room."  

You bit your lip, fighting back a smile.  

Damn it.  

"Okay, fine." You rolled your eyes. "What exactly do you have in mind?"  

Pedro grinned like he’d just won something. "Get dressed, cariño. I’ll tell you on the way."

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — EARLY AFTERNOON 

You didn’t know what you had expected Pedro to suggest—maybe a lazy stroll through the city, or coffee at some tucked-away café—but the moment you stepped outside, you realized you had severely underestimated him.  

For one, he had somehow procured a car.  

Not just any car. A sleek, inconspicuous black SUV, complete with a driver who nodded at Pedro like they had some unspoken understanding.  

You frowned, pausing just before getting in. “Please tell me you didn’t hire security just to take me out for the day.”  

Pedro smirked, holding the door open for you. “Relax. It’s just a favor. No secret service level drama.”  

You eyed him suspiciously. “You swear?”  

“Would I lie to you?”  

You didn’t dignify that with a response.  

With a dramatic sigh, you climbed into the passenger seat, and Pedro followed suit, settling in beside you with a satisfied grin.  

“See?” he said as the car pulled away from the hotel. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”  

You shot him a flat look. “I already regret this.”  

Pedro just laughed, tapping his fingers idly against his knee.  

The city stretched out beyond the tinted windows, a blur of old brick buildings, cafés with tiny outdoor tables, and the occasional group of tourists wrapped up in their own adventures.  

For a moment, you let yourself relax, head resting back against the seat, the steady hum of the car filling the silence.  

And then—  

“Are you actually going to tell me where we’re going?” you asked, side-eyeing him.  

Pedro hummed, pretending to think about it. “Nah. I like watching you squirm.”  

You groaned, letting your head fall back dramatically. “I hate you.”  

“No, you don’t.”  

You turned your head, finding him already watching you, something fond and unreadable flickering behind his glasses.  

Your breath caught in your throat.  

The car hit a stoplight, and he looked away, tapping something into his phone.  

Okay. Fine.  

You could pretend that didn’t just happen.  

The drive continued, weaving through the city until you eventually started to recognize where you were heading.  

Your brows furrowed.  

“Wait a minute—"  

“Surprise,” Pedro said, grinning as the car finally rolled to a stop in front of what was, unmistakably, a bookstore.  

Not just any bookstore.  

One you had mentioned in passing about a few days ago, while sitting with him and a few others on set, talking about places you’d love to visit while in London.  

You turned to him, mouth slightly open. “You remembered?”  

Pedro gave you a look, like the idea of him not remembering was ridiculous.  

“Of course I did,” he said simply, pushing open his door. “Now, are you gonna sit there looking at me like I just grew a second head, or are we actually going in?”  

You scrambled out of the car before he could make another joke, ignoring the warmth spreading through your chest.  

Inside, the scent of old paper and freshly brewed coffee wrapped around you like a hug. The place was small but full—every wall lined with shelves, tables stacked with books, mismatched chairs tucked into cozy corners.  

It was perfect.  

Pedro hovered near the entrance, watching your expression, clearly pleased with himself.  

You turned, crossing your arms. “Alright, Pascal. What’s the catch?”  

He smirked. “No catch.”  

You narrowed your eyes.  

He sighed, holding his hands up in surrender. “Fine. I might have selfish reasons for bringing you here.”  

You raised an eyebrow. “Which are?”  

Pedro stepped closer, tilting his head. “You’re a pain in the ass when you’re stressed.”  

Your jaw dropped.  

“Excuse me?”  

He laughed, reaching out and flicking the end of your sleeve. “You needed a break. And I—” He paused, eyes softening. “I like seeing you happy.”  

The words were simple.  

Too simple.  

And yet, they settled deep in your chest, curling around something you weren’t ready to name.  

You swallowed, looking away, focusing on the nearest bookshelf like it held all the answers.  

Pedro let the silence stretch for a beat, then nudged you gently.  

“Go on,” he murmured. “Pick something.”  

So you did.

LONDON BOOKSHOP — EARLY AFTERNOON  

You took your time browsing.  

Partly because you wanted to, and partly because Pedro made himself comfortable, dropping into one of the armchairs in the corner like he had all the time in the world.  

He did this thing where he pretended not to be watching you. Flipping through a book, glasses sliding down his nose, but every so often—you caught him. The flicker of his gaze, the tiny smirk when you pulled a book off the shelf and examined the cover with interest.  

It made your skin warm.  

It was still so bizarre—this thing between you two.  

You were still wrapping your head around it, still trying to convince yourself that this wasn’t some overactive, sleep-deprived hallucination.  

Because this was Pedro Pascal.  

And Pedro Pascal had somehow taken it upon himself to make sure you were okay, taking you out on bookstore adventures and—  

Oh god, were you on a date?  

Your heart jumped at the realization, nearly making you fumble the book in your hands.  

No. Not a date.  

Just… Pedro being Pedro.  

Right?  

You exhaled slowly, trying to refocus.  

The book in your hands was a worn, well-loved copy of a classic romance novel. The pages were slightly yellowed, the cover soft with age.  

“That one, huh?”  

You startled slightly, looking up to see Pedro watching you from his chair, one arm draped lazily over the armrest.  

You shrugged, running your fingers along the spine. “I’ve been meaning to read it.”  

Pedro hummed, tilting his head. “You always do that.”  

You blinked. “Do what?”  

He nodded toward the book in your hands. “That thing. Where you rub the cover before you decide.”  

You froze, caught. “…I do not.”  

Pedro’s grin was entirely too smug. “Oh, you do.”  

You felt warmth creep up your neck. “You’ve been watching me pick books?”  

He lifted a shoulder, like it wasn’t a big deal. “You’re cute when you’re indecisive.”  

Your stomach flipped.  

You opened your mouth—only to immediately close it again, because what the fuck were you supposed to say to that?  

Pedro’s grin widened like he knew exactly what he was doing.  

Your fingers curled around the book, gripping it like it could somehow ground you.  

“I—” You cleared your throat, forcing a glare. “I hate you.”  

Pedro just laughed, leaning back in his chair. “No, you don’t.”  

You turned away, cheeks burning, pointedly walking toward the register before he could see how flustered you were.  

The woman behind the counter smiled as she rang up your book, eyes flicking toward Pedro lounging in the corner.  

“That your boyfriend?” she asked casually.  

You nearly choked.  

“What? No. No, no. He’s just—” You gestured vaguely. “Pedro.”  

She just smiled knowingly. “Right.”  

You hurriedly paid, ignoring the way Pedro was definitely smirking behind you, and grabbed the small paper bag with your book inside.  

When you turned, he was already standing, adjusting his glasses. “Ready?”  

You exhaled, nodding.  

As the two of you stepped outside, the chilly afternoon air hit your skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the bookshop.  

Pedro slipped his hands into his pockets, glancing over. “Lunch?”  

You hesitated. “I don’t know… what if people see us?”  

Pedro just shrugged. “So what?”  

You frowned, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “I just— I don’t want people to think—”  

“That you’re hanging out with me?” Pedro finished, raising an eyebrow.  

You let out a breath, rubbing at your temple. “I just don’t want to be weird about it.”  

Pedro was quiet for a beat, then nudged your arm gently. “Hey.”  

You looked up.  

“Let them think whatever they want,” he said, voice softer now. “You’re allowed to exist in public with me, y’know.”  

Your chest ached in a way you weren’t expecting.  

He made it sound so simple.  

You swallowed, nodding. “Okay.”  

Pedro grinned. “Good. Now let’s go find some obscenely overpriced pasta.”  

You huffed a laugh, letting him lead the way.

LONDON — AFTERNOON

The restaurant Pedro picked was one of those effortlessly stylish little spots tucked away on a side street, the kind of place with warm lighting, fresh flowers on every table, and a menu written in looping script on a chalkboard.

It smelled like olive oil and fresh bread, like garlic sizzling in butter.

“Obscenely overpriced pasta,” you muttered under your breath, scanning the menu. “You weren’t kidding.”

Pedro chuckled, tilting his head toward you. “Hey, if we’re gonna be reckless, we might as well do it with carbs.”

Your lips twitched, but you didn’t argue.

The two of you had been seated near the window, the view outside hazy with the gray of the London afternoon. Pedro sat opposite you, cap low, glasses on, but even that didn’t do much to disguise him.

It was still him.

Still warm brown eyes and laughter lines, still easy charm and a quiet steadiness that made you feel safer than you probably should.

The restaurant hummed with soft conversation, the gentle clinking of glasses and silverware blending with the distant notes of some old jazz song playing overhead. The air smelled rich—garlic and butter, fresh herbs and warm bread—and for the first time in what felt like days, you felt… light.  

You weren’t thinking about work. Or her.  

Just Pedro. Just this.  

He was leaning back in his chair now, one arm draped over the backrest, fingers idly tracing the rim of his water glass. His cap was still low over his forehead, glasses perched on his nose, but his expression was open, relaxed—like this was the most natural thing in the world. Like the two of you having lunch together was something that had always made sense.  

And maybe it did.  

"So," Pedro said, tearing off a piece of bread from the basket between you. "Tell me something about you that I don’t know yet."  

You huffed a small laugh, stirring the ice in your drink with your straw. "That’s a pretty broad request."  

He shrugged. "Alright, let’s narrow it down. What was little you like?"  

You blinked at him. "Little me?"  

"Yeah." He popped a piece of bread into his mouth. "Like, what were you like as a kid? Were you the quiet, shy one, or were you running around causing problems?"  

You scoffed. "I am the quiet, shy one."  

Pedro gave you a look. "I know you. You’ve got a little chaos in you somewhere."  

You bit back a smile. "Fine. Maybe a little."  

Pedro grinned, leaning in like he was settling in for a story. "Alright, spill."  

You thought for a moment, fingers brushing absentmindedly over the rim of your glass. "I was kind of… scrappy, I guess? Like, I wasn’t looking for trouble, but I wouldn’t not fight a kid if they deserved it."  

Pedro nearly choked on his water. "What?"  

Your face heated. "Not like that! I just—I had a strong sense of justice, okay?"  

Pedro wiped his mouth, eyes gleaming with amusement. "So what I’m hearing is that you’ve always been ready to throw hands."  

You groaned, dropping your face into your hands. "I shouldn’t have told you that."  

Pedro was grinning so hard. "No, no, I love it. I love picturing little you, all tiny and righteous, just out there laying down the law."  

You peeked at him through your fingers. "It wasn’t that dramatic."  

"Mm-hmm," he said, clearly not convinced.  

You shook your head, exhaling a laugh. "Okay, your turn, big shot. What was little Pedro like?"  

His smirk softened into something more nostalgic. "Oh, I was a menace," he admitted.  

You snorted. "Of course you were."  

"I mean, not in a bad way," he amended, breaking off another piece of bread. "I was just… all over the place. Loud, always moving, always talking. My parents were exhausted."  

You smiled. "Sounds like you were a handful."  

"Oh, completely." He took a sip of his drink, glancing at you over the rim. "I grew up in a house that was always full, always noisy. Family coming in and out all the time, music playing, food cooking. I never really knew what quiet was until I got older."  

There was something warm in his voice, something fond in the way he spoke about home.  

"That sounds… nice," you murmured.  

Pedro tilted his head slightly, studying you. "What about you? What was home like?"  

You hesitated, glancing down at your plate. "Not like that."  

His brows drew together, but he didn’t push.  

You exhaled softly, running your finger over the condensation on your glass. "I mean, it wasn’t bad or anything. It was just… quieter. A little lonelier."  

Pedro didn’t say anything, just waited.  

You bit your lip, giving a small shrug. "I guess I always felt like I had to work a little harder to fit in. To matter."  

Pedro’s gaze softened, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.  

You cleared your throat, suddenly embarrassed. "Sorry, that got depressing—"  

"Hey." His voice was quiet but firm.  

You glanced up.  

Pedro was watching you with something steady, something real in his expression. "You don’t have to apologize for being honest."  

Your stomach flipped.  

You nodded, a little too quickly. "Right. Yeah."  

Pedro gave you a small smile, then nudged your foot under the table. "For what it’s worth," he said lightly, "I think you’re pretty great."  

Your throat felt tight. "Yeah?"  

"Yeah." His smile widened. "Even if you did used to fight kids."  

You groaned. "Oh my god."  

Pedro laughed, and the sound was so warm, so easy, that you couldn’t help but laugh with him.  

And just like that, whatever tension had settled between you melted away, leaving nothing but warmth in its place.

The street was buzzing softly with life when you stepped outside, the late afternoon sun spilling golden light over everything. You hadn’t even fully processed where Pedro was leading you when he suddenly tugged on your wrist and gestured toward a tiny, vintage photo booth tucked just outside the café. Its paint was chipped, its curtain a little worn, but it had the kind of charm that begged you to step inside.  

“C’mon,” Pedro said with a mischievous grin, already pulling you toward it.  

“What? No!” You laughed, glancing around like someone might catch you doing something scandalous. “Pedro, this is so cheesy!”  

He raised a brow, clearly unimpressed by your protests. “Cheesy is good. Plus, you owe me for making me think you were a goner this morning.” He gave you a dramatic, pleading look. “One strip of photos. For my emotional recovery.”  

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. “Fine. One. And only because I feel bad for you.”  

The booth’s tiny space forced you closer together than you expected. Pedro leaned in to fiddle with the ancient machine, his arm brushing against yours. You tried not to think too hard about how warm he was, or how his cologne smelled faintly like cedar and something else you couldn’t quite place.  

“Okay, ready?” Pedro asked, his finger hovering over the button.  

“Wait! What do we—what pose are we doing?”  

He grinned. “You’ll figure it out.”  

The camera counted down—three, two, one.  

The first flash caught you both off guard, faces blank with surprise. You burst into laughter, the kind that made your shoulders shake, and Pedro quickly leaned in for another shot.  

“Okay, okay, serious face,” he instructed, eyes narrowing comically.  

You tried, but the second the flash went off, you broke into giggles again, and Pedro lost it right along with you.  

The third shot was a blur of laughter, your head tipped back, Pedro’s grin wide and unguarded.  

Then, right as the camera beeped for the final shot, Pedro turned toward you.  

You barely had time to register the movement before his lips brushed your cheek, soft and quick but undeniably there.  

The flash went off.  

You froze, eyes wide as you turned to look at him. Pedro’s face mirrored yours for a second—caught somewhere between Did I really just do that? and Yeah, I did. But then, the corners of his mouth curled into a sheepish grin.  

The photo strip slid out of the machine, and you grabbed it, holding it up between you. There it was: the first three frames filled with laughter and goofy poses, and the last… the last one where his lips were pressed against your cheek, your eyes wide, his soft and warm, both of you caught mid-smile.  

Your heart fluttered—nervous, exhilarated, but… not scared. Not even a little.  

“You kissed me,” you said, voice soft but teasing.  

Pedro rubbed the back of his neck, pretending to look thoughtful. “Hmm. Did I? Feels like that might’ve been you kissing me.”  

You gasped, smacking his arm with the photo strip. “Liar!”  

He chuckled, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Hey, I’m just saying—it’s open to interpretation.”  

You shook your head, laughing softly. “You’re ridiculous.”  

“And yet,” he said, tilting his head, “here you are. Stuck in a photo booth with me.”  

The air between you shifted then—lighter, but also charged with something else. Something that felt like the beginning of a question neither of you was quite ready to ask.  

For a beat, neither of you moved.  

Then Pedro tapped the photo strip with his finger, breaking the moment. “Well, at least we’ve got proof of how good we look together.”  

Your cheeks burned, but you couldn’t stop smiling. “Shut up.”  

“Never,” he replied, already holding out his phone. “Now, do we post this on the internet, or do we keep it as blackmail material for later?”  

You grabbed the photo strip, slipping it into your pocket. “Neither. This one’s ours.”  

Pedro raised his hands in surrender, but the smile on his face told you he didn’t mind one bit.

The sky was painted in soft shades of pink and orange as the sun began its slow descent. Pedro slipped his phone back into his pocket after calling the driver, glancing at you with a small smile. “We’ve got about ten minutes. Wanna walk a little?”  

You nodded, grateful for the chance to stretch your legs. The streets were alive with a gentle hum—tourists taking photos, locals going about their day, the occasional street performer filling the air with music.  

The city felt like a movie set, every streetlamp and cobblestone path perfectly placed. And in this fleeting moment, it felt like the world had paused just for the two of you, as if the streetlights themselves pointed in an arrowhead, leading you home.  

Pedro noticed the slight chill in the air and shrugged off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders before you could protest. “Can’t have you catching a cold,” he said, his voice light but warm with care.  

The jacket smelled like him—faint cologne mixed with something warm and earthy, something Pedro. You tugged it around yourself a little tighter, feeling its weight settle comfortably over your frame.  

A surge of boldness swept over you, the kind you usually talked yourself out of but didn’t this time. You stepped closer, looping your arm around his. His body radiated warmth, steady and solid beneath your touch. Slowly, your fingers found his hand, intertwining with his.  

Pedro didn’t hesitate. His hand squeezed yours gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soft, absentminded rhythm. It was such an easy, natural thing for him, this casual intimacy that felt so rare and comforting.  

You’d learned over the past few days that touch was part of his love language. He was the kind of man who hugged with his whole body, the kind whose touch always felt intentional and grounding, never forced or fleeting.  

Your heart thudded a little harder in your chest. You told yourself it was just from the walk.  

You squeezed his arm lightly, smiling up at him. “Thanks for today, Pedro.”  

He glanced down at you, his eyes warm and crinkling at the edges, those familiar laughter lines making an appearance. “For what?”  

“For everything,” you said softly, almost shy. “For making me laugh. For breakfast. For not running away when I woke up looking like a crypt keeper.”  

Pedro chuckled, his grip on your hand tightening for a brief second. “You looked adorable. Not a crypt keeper—more like… a sleepy little gremlin.”  

You gasped, mock-offended, and smacked his arm with your free hand. “Gremlin? You’re lucky I don’t let go of your hand right now.”  

He grinned, that mischievous spark in his eyes you were quickly becoming fond of. “You wouldn’t. You like me too much.”  

You couldn’t argue with that.  

The streetlamps flickered on as the daylight dimmed, casting a golden glow over the cobblestone streets. You both fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. The city hummed around you, but all you could focus on was the steady warmth of Pedro’s hand in yours, the easy rhythm of your steps together, the way everything felt just a little softer, a little brighter with him by your side.  

“You’re really something, you know that?” Pedro said suddenly, his voice quieter now, thoughtful.  

You glanced at him, your breath hitching slightly. “Something good, I hope.”  

Pedro stopped walking for a second, turning toward you. His eyes searched yours, serious now. “The best kind of something.”  

Your chest tightened at the weight of his words, a mix of nerves and excitement swirling in your stomach. You tried to play it cool, but the heat rising to your cheeks gave you away.  

“Well,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, “right back at you, Pedro.”  

He smiled, that same soft, unguarded smile that always made you feel like you were the only person in the world he was looking at.  

The driver pulled up a few moments later, headlights cutting through the soft twilight. Pedro opened the door for you, his hand resting lightly on your back as you slid into the car.  

As the car pulled away, you leaned back into the seat, Pedro’s jacket still wrapped around your shoulders, his warmth lingering like a secret you weren’t quite ready to give up.  

And maybe, just maybe, neither was he.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — EVENING

The glow of golden hour had dimmed into soft dusk by the time you returned to Chiltern Firehouse. The lobby was warm and buzzing with quiet energy—guests sipping cocktails, a crackling fireplace, and staff moving seamlessly through the space. Pedro walked beside you, his hand resting gently at the small of your back like it had been there all along.  

You didn’t want the day to end just yet. There was something about the way the air felt, a little lighter, like it had been charged with something electric and unspoken.  

As you approached the front desk, one of the hotel managers, a polished woman in a tailored suit, stepped forward with a warm smile, followed closely by Franklin Latt—Pedro’s manager.  

“Good evening,” the hotel manager greeted. “I hope you’ve been enjoying your stay. I wanted to let you know that your room is now ready, miss.”  

Your breath hitched for a split second.  

Right. The room.  

It was easy to forget after the last few days, the way you’d fallen into such a natural rhythm with Pedro. Sharing his suite had felt so… effortless. You blinked, trying to process the sudden shift.  

“Oh,” you said, your voice soft, almost reluctant. “Right. That was, uh… this week.”  

You glanced at Pedro, and for a fleeting moment, something passed between you—a flicker of disappointment mirrored in his eyes.  

You shifted on your feet, clearing your throat. “Okay, um… I guess I need to pack, then.”  

The hotel manager smiled politely. “The room is ready for you whenever you’re ready to move, miss.”  

Pedro opened his mouth before you could respond, a little too quickly. “Actually, do you think she could switch tomorrow? It’s been a long day, and she still needs to pack her things. We’re both pretty wiped out.”  

His voice was casual, but there was an edge of determination that made you glance up at him, your heart fluttering at how easily he’d jumped in for you.  

The hotel manager hesitated but nodded. “Of course. If you’d prefer to transfer tomorrow, that can be arranged.”  

Franklin, however, raised an eyebrow, his sharp gaze flickering between you and Pedro. His eyes caught on Pedro’s jacket draped around your shoulders, the sleeves too long for you, the fabric worn in all the right places.  

Your face heated up as you tugged the jacket a little tighter around yourself, hoping it would hide the rush of color in your cheeks.  

Franklin crossed his arms, his expression somewhere between amused and suspicious. “Tired, huh?” he said, his tone light but pointed. “You sure that’s the only reason?”  

Pedro shot him a look, his brow arching in silent warning. “Relax, Frank. We’ve been out all day, walking around the city. She’s exhausted.”  

Franklin chuckled, clearly not buying it but deciding to let it go—for now. “Right. Well, don’t let me keep you.”  

The hotel manager nodded again. “Just let us know when you’re ready to move rooms. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”  

She and Franklin walked off, leaving you and Pedro standing in the middle of the lobby, the hum of quiet conversations around you. For a second, neither of you spoke.  

Pedro scratched the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. “So… I guess you’re stuck with me for one more night.”  

You tried to laugh, but it came out softer than you intended. “Guess so.”  

The elevator doors opened, and you stepped inside together. The air between you felt charged again, like earlier, but now tinged with something deeper—something fragile and new.  

Pedro leaned against the wall of the elevator, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “If I’m being honest, I’m kinda glad you’re not leaving just yet.”  

Your heart skipped a beat, but you tried to play it cool. “Oh yeah? Afraid of being lonely?”  

He chuckled, his voice low and warm. “Maybe. Or maybe I’ve just gotten used to having you around.”  

The words settled in your chest like a secret you weren’t sure you were ready to unpack. You didn’t trust yourself to say anything in return, so you just smiled, a little shy, a little flustered.  

When the elevator dinged, Pedro followed you out, his hand resting lightly on your back again as you made your way to the suite. It was such a small thing, but it grounded you in ways you hadn’t expected.

Maybe you’d sort through those feelings tomorrow, when the lines between friendship and something more didn’t feel so blurred.  

But tonight?  

“One last movie night?” you asked softly as you swiped the keycard, pushing the door open. You glanced over your shoulder at Pedro, an almost shy smile playing on your lips.  

Pedro’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned, stepping in behind you. “It doesn’t have to be the last one,” he said, his voice warm and steady. “We can have as many movie nights as you want.”  

His words hung in the air, carrying a weight you weren’t sure he meant to put there. Something about the way he said it made your chest tighten in the best way possible.  

You kicked off your shoes, trying to shake off the flutter in your stomach, and headed for the couch. Pedro shrugged off his jacket and tossed it over a chair, moving to grab a couple of waters from the kitchenette.  

“Okay,” you said, settling into the couch cushions, pulling a blanket over your lap. “But I’m picking the movie this time.”  

Pedro handed you a bottle of water and plopped down beside you, close enough that his knee bumped yours. “Deal. What are we watching?”  

You tapped your chin dramatically, pretending to be deep in thought. “Something light. No brooding detectives or tragic endings.”  

He laughed, the sound low and easy. “Are you saying my movie choices are too intense?”  

“Not too intense,” you teased, opening the streaming app. “But I’m in the mood for something that won’t make me question the meaning of life.”  

Pedro leaned back, resting an arm on the back of the couch behind you. His fingers brushed your shoulder, barely there, but it sent a spark down your spine anyway. “Fair enough. Surprise me.”  

You clicked on a romantic comedy and settled in, trying to focus on the movie and not the warmth of Pedro beside you. But it was hard to ignore—the way his thigh pressed gently against yours, the sound of his soft chuckle whenever something funny happened on screen, the way he stole glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking.  

About halfway through the movie, you felt your head naturally tilt toward his shoulder. You hesitated for a second, nerves twisting in your chest. But then Pedro shifted ever so slightly, making it easier, like he was inviting you to stay.  

“You comfortable?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.  

“Yeah,” you said softly, your cheek resting against him. “You make a pretty good pillow.”  

He chuckled, the sound vibrating under your ear. “I try.”  

Neither of you moved after that, the movie fading into the background. The world outside the suite felt far away, like it didn’t matter. Not right now. Not with him.  

Maybe you’d unpack those feelings tomorrow.  

But tonight?  

Tonight, you let yourself fall a little further. 

End Notes:

This was one of the chapters I was dreading to write. Not cause I didn’t want to write it—

Cause I knew, from a writer’s perspective, at some point, I had to subvert the expectation of, “They’ll be roommates the entire time and fall in love.”

And yes, I did the thing where I gave you something you wanted/something good and then took it away from you LMAO ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I mean… at least you get your own room now! So that counts for something— (please don’t show up at my house aHHHH)

Also, five chapters in, I had to give ya'll a little smooch... just a little... hehe

TAGLIST: @comfortzonequeen @christinamadsen @liciafonseca @greenwitchfromthewoods @iqr-x @southernbe @maryfanson @brittmb115 @klajmekk @taytay0403 @whimsiwitchy @zymiii @sarahhxx03 @leilanixx @lilasskicker-23 @https-murdock @barnescamboy @widowsvail @senhoritamayblog @morganlolitta

[ilikemenolderthanmyfather]

———————————————————————————————————

AN OLD TOY

———————————————————————————————————

Joel Miller x F!Reader

18+ !!MDNI!!

Warning:insecurities(Joel is getting old), rough sex, dubious consent, pet names, strong language and violence, male receiving, female receiving, bondage, cowgirl style, overstimulating, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v, Joel is a whimperer, kidnapping(twice in the same day), forced marriage? Joel belly mentioned, enemies to lovers ish? Reader’s appearance, age and name is not mentioned or specified. Joel is a dildo. Joel is a survivor!

Summary: Joel gets kidnapped and used like a toy, and best of all, he gets the save a hoarse ride a cowboy treatment.

Words: 3K

———————————————————————————————————

He was surrounded by seven men, all pointing their guns in his direction. Joel knew better than to try and fight back, he’d get a punch in, only to get shot down. That’s not what he needs right now, he needs to get back to Jackson and back to Ellie.

One of the men asked for his name, a common courtesy, too courtesy for this situation if you asked Joel, but he entertained the idea, why not? If he was gonna go out, or take them out, they’ll know to leave him the hell alone next time.

Two others stepped out of the way slightly and you walked past them, now standing only a couple of feet away from Joel.

He looked you up down, a slight glare on his face as he spoke “I don’t want trouble.”

You chuckled at that, “Oh but I do.”

He raised a brow at your words and was about to question you when he was suddenly grabbed by two of the men, holding Joel tightly as a grunt left him.

“Then what the hell do you want lady?!”, Joel questioned you with a bit more anger than intended and a sly smile spread across your face.

“A toy”

Joel stopped struggling as he looked up at you with wide yet concerned eyes. In his knowledge that could either mean a test subject where he’d get cut open or a damn slave, neither being good in this world.

He scoffed and struggling slightly against the two, “Well in that case ya can just shoot me, I ain’t becoming some damn lab rat!”

You stared at him and smirked “Oh you think you have a choice, mister Miller?”

You look at the men holding him “Drag him back to base, and don’t speak to my father about this, this is just between us and then I’ll make sure you’ll all get double your salary.”

They immediately pulled Joel along as he struggled against them, an accessional jab from a barrel of the rifle, putting him in his place.

After walking through the woods for what felt like an hour to Joel, they arrived at a very small base, the fences were high, a few houses could be seen.

You all walk in and the men holding Joel looked at you expectedly. Your eyes met Joel’s uncertain eyes for a second before looking at the men holding him.

“Take him to my room.” was all you said before walking away.

Meanwhile Joel was staring to rethink on those options that he had made, maybe he was wrong as he was pushed into a somewhat a building and finally into your bedroom.

In his shock and daze he was pushed to the ground and left there before the men walked out with mocking laughter.

Joel looked at the now locked door, his hands searching for any weapons, knives, anything that could help him out but it was already confiscated from him.

He stood there in silence as he looked closely at the bed and saw handcuffs on the headboard, his eyes wide with suspicion and questions.

Joel walked closer and in his distracted state did not hear or see you walk in the room.

He slowly turned around with a scowl before two hands pushed against his chest as the back of his legs gave in against the bed. Before he could push back, his wrists were cuffed against the headboard.

He looked up at you with a wide eyes “The fuc-?!”

You shushed him, “Don’t worry I’m not gonna go rough on you…..too much, you’re old.”

Joel scoffed a bit, "Hm, what are you gonna do with me? Whatever you do, can't be any worse than some of the stuff I've been through."

You chuckled, “Well eh, I’m pretty sure you’ve never been through this before.”

He looked back at his cuffed wrists before glaring back at you, awaiting an explanation.

You sighed and sat back onto his thighs, “You see, I’m very needy and like I said, I need a toy and I’m not gonna stop until you either give out or your dick falls off.”

You traced your finger along his jacket as his eyes went wide at your crude words, with slight horror and something else he wasn’t gonna admit out loud, arousal but especially concern.

Joel wasn’t your standard young man anymore, even he came to accept it. He wasn’t gonna complain about it. He can’t even remember the last time he had taken the time to touch himself, maybe once or twice if he wasn’t on edge from almost getting killed but this was way out of his range and capabilities, as embarrassing as it was to admit.

Joel gathered his thoughts, “Wait wait wait wait-" He tugged at the cuffs a bit, trying to struggle against them, but the cuffs were on pretty tightly. “I-I don’t think I can, sweetheart.”

You smiled “Oh come on, you’re a man with experience!”

He shook his head, “Not to mention, old. I can’t even…get it up right” , he admitted with embarrassment.

You laughed as he looked away “Just take what I give, mister Miller, can I call you Joel? I’m gonna call you Joel, mister Miller seems too formal for what I’m gonna do to you.”

He laid his head back into the pillow with concern. You immediately undid his belt that was pushing against his belly before pulling down his pants and underwear, his shoes going down with em.

A gasp left him as the air hit his bare lower body. You slowly spread his legs and Joel immediately closed them with a small glare. You glared back “Be good Joel or I’ll shoot your dick off instead, take a pick.”

He grew slightly worried and spread his thighs reluctantly. You smiled and gave his inner thigh a kiss “See that wasn’t so hard”

His cock stirred up slightly from your attention, cursing to himself. Your hand slowly wrapped around him, slowly moving up and down as short breaths left him.

Joel’s eyes shot wide open as a loud gasp left his mouth when you suddenly took him in all the way, your lips pressing against the hair at the base of his cock. Your mouth sucked him hard and his cock quickly grew stiff with the new found attention.

He could only watch with wide eyes as you sucked him like a damn straw, little whines of protest leaving his mouth, too much and too fast.

You smiled and started moving your head up and down, drool dripping past your lips and onto his hairs as filthy sounds of your slurping, filled the room.

His eyes watched your every move, he’s never felt this hot and filthy at the same time. You kept your focus on your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you’re wetting his dick as much as possible.

Joel couldn’t even remember the last time he got head, yes he had a few sucks here and there from ex’s but that was it. They always expected him to do the work, not that he minded it, he liked being in control and controlling the pace.

His ex wife wouldn’t even suck him off though, unless he ask and begged her nicely, only getting a few tugs at his dick before he had to do all the work. Thats how it’s always been, doing all the work and then being ungrateful for it, leaving him on the edge like that as he quietly tugs at himself to relieve some of the pressure.

But he wasn’t that young champ anymore. For crying out loud he can’t even last more than one round anymore when he’s by himself. If his younger self was here, he’d probably laugh at how easy he has become.

A tight suck around his tip, made him snap out of his thoughts and threw his head back while his hips thrusted up to get more of your sweet lips.

You glared at his distracted gaze, hollowing around his sensitive tip as another gasp left his trembling body “O-Oh shit!”

You groaned around him, the vibrations tingling his lower belly before you pulled away “You focus on me, only me, Joel”

He looked at you with slight disappointment and arousal, not saying anything as he breathed heavily.

You scoffed before taking off your clothes, if Joel wasn’t hard before, then he’s definitely hard now. He could only ogle at your form before looking away in shame, truly pathetic what a perverted old man he’s become.

Your fingers quickly unzipped his jacket and opened it “I should have probably taken your clothes off before hand, meh, doesn’t matter now.”

Slowly you pulled his shirt up, making sure to drag your hand over Joel’s soft belly and chest as he shivered. As soon as his shirt was rolled up to his neck, you leaned down and kissed his lower stomach, slowly making your way up as your other hand pulled on his dick.

He could only watch with half lidded eyes, his insecurities taking over as you gently kissed him, small breaths leaving his lips as Joel closed his eyes, his hips jerking against your tugging.

You lined yourself up with him, your dripping pussy swallowing him in with ease. Joel watched as you slowly lowered yourself down on him, a deep groan leaving his lips.

A satisfied sigh leaves your lips as you take him all the way, your clit rubbing against his hairs “So good~mmm” your eyebrows pulled together in concentration as you focused on his cock, pushing against every spongy part inside of you, just right.

Joel watched you closely, his hips rocking slightly, trying hard not to just give in and fuck up into you.

You slowly dragged your hips back and forth, trying to catch a pace. Soon enough your slow grinding turned into a full on bounce of desperation for some relief as you moaned out softly “Joel!~”

Joel on the other hand was clenching his teeth and pulling on his restraints as groans fell from his lips, his eyes shut tightly as your slick walls sucked him in deep. “S-shit sweetheart! Oh, Oh wait~! Oh!”

He threw his head back and planted his feet into the sheets as his hips started thrusting up into your clenching pussy.

A surprised gasp left your throat as the thrusting from his hips and the grinding of your clit, quickly made you reach your peak. Your body shuddered as you clenched around him.

Joel groaned softly as he pumped his warm cum into you, a breathless sigh leaving his lips as his legs gave out and laid flat against the bed.

His eyes were shut tightly and breathed softly as tiredness started creeping into his old body.

Suddenly a continuous rise and fall of your hips made his eyes snap open and a whine of protest left his lips. You shushed him and gave him a displeased look before going back to ridding him.

Joel breathed heavily as your walks worked his now sensitive cock, his tip twitching in pleasure as you continue to use him like a toy.

“Fuck sweetheart! I can’t! I-Oh~oh” Joel could only lay there and take it as you moaned out his name.

Your ass grinds against his tightening balls as his tip pushes against your womb and a white ring forming at the base of his cock. He looked at you with concern and pleasure, feeling his lower belly tightening up again, sweat falling from the crook of his eyebrow.

He moaned out softly as he shot out another warm load. You whine softly as you grind against him at a new angle, working him through his orgasm as his started tugging on the cuffs in protest, overstimulation taking over slowly.

You however ignored him and continued to bounce on him continuously, his limp cock twitching in protest as Joel whined out, “Please have mercy!”

You quickened your pace, head thrown back “Joel~oh yes, one more, give me one more!~” your swollen clit being rubbed by his hair perfectly as your lower stomach tightened up, Joel could only shake his head in protest as his cock hardened again.

His tip splurged small drops of what he had left and looked at you with a begging expression. You groaned and slammed your hips tightly against him, his hairs tickling your clit as his balls tighten up against his wishes, his frame trembling at the stimulation.

Your grinding became more harsh as you neared your orgasm once more, soft moans of his name falling from your lips as his cock is pushing in deeper, a breathless moan falls from his lip as his balls emptied out and shot thick warm cum into you once more.

You work him through his orgasm as you threw your head back in bless before tightening around him harshly, a whine falling from his lips as you work yourself through your orgasm.

The roll of your hips came to an agonizingly slow stop as you looked down at him.

You both started at each other in silence, a tired, half lidded look on his face. You leaned down and kissed him gently, a kiss he desperately returned as his hips twitched against you.

You took that as a sign to continue and started bouncing your hips again, Joel shook his head in protest “Fuck! No no please, ah~ no wait! Use my face but fuck! Please I can’t it hurts” he admitted with a small pleading look.

You stared at him for a moment before pulling off him, a groan leaving his lips. You place your thighs on either side of his head before lowering onto his mouth that gladly started sucking on your puffy clit.

You let out a shaky breath and held his hair with your hands, his facial hair tickling against you.

His tongue quickly made its way into you, slurping and curling against all the right places. He looked up at you with focus and determination as you neared your peak again, your walls tightened around his tongue that seemed to have suddenly sped up and curled against that sweet spot inside you.

His nose pushed against your puffy nub continuously as your legs started shaking “O-oh yes, Yes Joel!~”

His groan only added to the pressure before you curled up and rode out your orgasm. He worked you through it slowly before you pulled away.

Joel watched you get off the bed with slightly shaky legs, you walked into the bathroom and started filling up the tub. Joel only laid there in utter shock and bless as tiredness started creeping in.

Suddenly you walked back out and took something out of the drawer before walking towards him. He looked at you with tired eyes as you suddenly start to open the cuffs.

“No sneaky shit” you gave him a warning before he sat up with a grunt, rubbing his wrists slightly as he looked up at you with those innocent puppy brown eyes.

You sighed and walked into the bathroom, a slight signal for him to follow. He took off his shirt and jacket, following after you with a slight limp in his walk.

His eyes fell on you sitting in a bathtub, he suddenly became a little self conscious when you looked at him.

You voiced cut through the silence, “Well get in while the water is still warm.”

Joel just gave a nod and got in and sat between your thighs. You stare at his back for a second and he leaned back slowly but suddenly stopped, you glared “Don’t you dare-“ before you could finish, Joel suddenly knocked out you with the back of his head.

Joel quickly bathed and felt bad and quickly washed you before draining the water. He hurriedly dried himself off and got dressed.

He stared at you, still very much knocked out and sighed softly. Maybe it won’t be too bad having company when he gets back to Jackson. Besides Ellie has been bothering him for years about getting a girlfriend, “Teenagers” he scoffed softly with a smile before it turned into a smirk.

You slowly woke up on a bed far more softer than the one you’ve grown use to. A grunt left your lips and placed your hands on your head where Joel had head budded you.

Your eyes snap open “That son of a-where the fuck am I?” You looked around the cozy yet unfamiliar room. You quickly got up from the bed and stumbled towards a window, your eyes going wide when you read the sign [Welcome to Jackson].

Your eyes snapped open in horror “Fucking Jackson?!” Suddenly a familiar voice could be heard as Joel walked into the room “Nice huh?”

You glared at his smirking face “I’m gonna-“ Joel shushed her “Now now, you ain’t back home and unfortunately for you I got many…..I have friends here in Jackson and they’ll shoot without needing to be asked, so be nice sweetheart.”

You scoffed and clenched your fists onto the jacket that you woke up in, your eyes glanced down at it, realizing it was his.

Your body turned to look out the window with a look of disbelief and crossed your arms. Joel walked closer and wrapped an arm around your middle gently. You sighed softly “You are such an ass, so what now?”

Joel smiled “Says you” you looked at him and he just shrugged and stared out the window “Well I kinda told everyone you’re my girlfriend…and that we’re getting married soon so if ye try and run away, they’ll think you’re ill and will bring ya back to me”

You slowly turned your head to look at him, he looked at you and gave you a smile.

“YOU SON OF A B-!”

Meanwhile Ellie and Dina looked at Joel and you through the window. Dina smiled with a concerned look “I’m happy that Joel finally found someone, but eh, if you ask me that’s a lot of slapping coming from her.” Ellie shrugged “Well from the magazines I’ve found in his closet, he might just be into that.”

[adelliet]

Harry Castillo x f!reader

WORTH THE RISK

Summary: Your best friend offered you a job at the restaurant she worked at. It was your last chance to climb out of the hole you’d been stuck in for way too long. But along with the new job came someone new.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, strong language, age gap, oral sex (f & m receiving), unprotected sex (p i v), nicknames, praise kink, aftercare, prejudices, reader is poor (sorry)

A/n: Hi! So, this is not that long (I hope) than my other fic's, but it's still good, trust me. Anyway if you have any ideas, suggestions, or anything else, feel free to text me. Also, I apologize for any grammar mistakes or phrases that might not make sense—English isn’t my first language :3 But I hope you enjoy the story! <3

Masterlist

“Can you take that guy’s order?” your friend asked, pointing discreetly at a man sitting alone at a round table draped in a crisp white tablecloth.

You raised an eyebrow, slightly caught off guard by the fact that he was sitting at a table meant for six, completely alone. But hey, this was a fancy place, and he looked like a fancy guy. What did you know about rich people and their habits anyway?

“Sure,” you muttered, grabbing your notepad in one hand and a pen in the other. As you approached, you put on your best customer-service smile, stopping at a polite distance, close enough to hear each other over the background noise, but not so close that it felt inappropriate.

“Good evening. What can I get you?”

The man was still holding the menu, one finger resting against his lips, visibly lost in thought. It took him a second to register your voice. When he did, his eyes flicked to yours, then did a quick double-take.

His pupils dilated slightly. His previously distant expression softened. And then, just the faintest curl of a smile at the corner of his lips.

You wouldn’t call him unattractive. Not at all. His sharp features were framed by a neatly trimmed brown mustache and slightly wavy hair that fell just past his ears. His eyes, deep and warm, like freshly brewed coffee, held a certain weight, an intensity that was hard to ignore. He looked like comfort. Like stability.

But you weren’t about to fall for that.

A man with money was a dangerous thing. You knew that all too well. So you pushed down any flutter of attraction, forced yourself to focus on what mattered.

He was just another customer.

“Oh, I’m not sure yet… Do you have any recommendations? Maybe the most expensive wine on the menu?”

Ah. There it was. The casual flex. You inhaled deeply, suppressing an eye roll.

“Yes, we have a few top selections. There’s the Château Margaux for $1,500, the Screaming Eagle Cabernet Sauvignon for $3,000, and—”

Before you could finish, he nodded, already deciding.

“I’ll take the Screaming Eagle.”

Of course he would.

You gave him a polite nod and jotted it down, knowing full well that this wouldn’t be the first or last time someone ordered it. Not because of the taste, but because of the price.

“Anything else?”

“Not for now, thank you.”

You nodded once more before walking away. The second you were out of his sight, you let out a deep breath, pulling a face, something between Are you kidding me? and Of course he did.

By the time you finally had the ridiculously expensive bottle of wine in your hands, you knew you had to be extra careful. One wrong move and you’d be responsible for spilling a small fortune onto the restaurant floor.

In one hand, you held the bottle. In the other, a wine glass, filled just about a quarter of the way, some weird restaurant tradition, offering a ‘preview’ sip before pouring the rest.

Anyways, you weren’t sure what did it.

Maybe it was the chaotic energy of the restaurant, the tension in the air. Maybe it was the way your manager had been snapping at everyone all night, dumping his stress onto the staff. Or maybe, maybe you were just having one of those days.

Either way, the second you opened your mouth to speak, the glass slipped from your fingers. And the wine? Right onto his lap.

“Oh, fuck—” you cursed, immediately realizing your mistake.

Not only had you just sworn, loudly, in a high-end restaurant, but you had also spilled a glass of the most expensive wine on a man who, with one phone call, could probably have you fired and blacklisted from every fine dining establishment in the city.

Oh, you were so getting fired.

“I—I am so sorry!”

In a rush, you set the now-empty glass and the bottle onto the table, grabbing the nearest napkin in sheer panic.

He just chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s okay,” he said, over and over. But it was definitely not okay.

Before your brain could fully process what you were doing, you had already dropped to your knees in front of him, frantically dabbing at the fabric of his pants with the napkin. It wasn’t until a second later that you realized how it looked.

How bad it looked. How absolutely, utterly humiliatingly wrong it looked. Oh, you were definitely getting fired.

“Sh— I am sorry, I—”

The panic in your voice was impossible to hide. He definitely noticed. But somehow, he didn’t seem the least bit upset. If anything, he looked… amused. Which he shouldn’t be. Not after getting drenched in the most expensive wine on the menu. Not after his server nearly touched his-

Oh god. You wanted to die.

You shot up from your knees so fast, you nearly lost your balance. Your face was burning. Absolutely on fire from the sheer humiliation of it all.

But no. You were not about to let your embarrassment control the situation. It was time to act like a real server. A professional. Definitely not a panicked, flustered mess.

“Sir, I am so, so sorry,” you started, quickly pulling out your notebook and pen, trying desperately to salvage the situation. “As compensation for this incident, you have the right to order anything on the menu, completely free of charge.”

Before you could jot anything down, you suddenly felt his hand on your wrist, stopping you.

“Sweetheart, it’s fine. I don’t want anything.”

He looked like he didn’t want anything. Unlike you, who was still visibly spiraling, he seemed completely unfazed. Relaxed, even.

“Sir, it’s my responsibility to—”

“Really, it’s nothing,” he interrupted smoothly, his voice carrying that effortless confidence. “Money’s not an issue for me.”

Well, that was obvious.

His face held that same unwavering calm, like he could simply talk his way out of this, and honestly? He probably could. But your conscience wouldn’t let you walk away that easily. You had ruined his expensive suit pants. An apology alone didn’t feel like enough.

“Alright, sir, but there must be something I can offer you. I can’t just—”

“You know what? There is something,” he leaned back in his chair, resting his arm on the backrest as a slow, knowing smile curled at his lips. A smile that was dangerous. A smile that could strip a woman down to her lingerie with just a single glance. And god, you were so close to being one of them.

But no, you held your ground. Barely.

“Dinner,” he finally said, his voice smooth as silk. “That’ll make up for it.”

You froze. Like, actually froze. Did you hear him right? You blinked, still frozen. Did you understand him right? But when he kept looking at you with that same flirtatious expression, you realized. Oh, you definitely understood him right.

“Oh—no, no, that’s—”

“It’s the only offer I’ll accept,” he cut in, leaving you zero room to argue. Which made this so much harder. On one hand, this man, this incredibly rich, insanely attractive man, had just asked you out.

On the other hand, he was a customer. A snob. And men with money? They were dangerous. And yet against your better judgment, your head gave the tiniest nod.

“Alright,” you said hesitantly. His eyes lit up. His smile stretched wider. Still confident. Still composed. Still oozing wealth and charm.

“Great. Tomorrow, 8:00 PM. Dinner at this place. Don’t be late.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small card, which he handed to you. You took it carefully. It was fancy. Even the texture of it felt expensive. A white business card with bold, black print, the name of a restaurant you had never even heard of.

You stared at it for a second, studying it. Then, finally, you nodded, shifting your eyes back to him.

“Harry, by the way. Harry Castillo,” he introduced himself, offering his hand. You quickly tucked the card, your notepad, and pen into the pocket around your waist before shaking his hand in return. It was more out of politeness than interest.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

The moment your hand slipped from his, you practically fled from his presence. And judging by the heat in your cheeks, you were definitely as red as a tomato.

“Hey, what the hell just happened out there?”

The moment you stepped into the kitchen, your friend was on you. She looked way too eager, like she was dying to hear whatever mess you’d gotten yourself into, just so she could laugh in your face. Honestly? You couldn’t even blame her. If the roles were reversed, you’d laugh at her too.

“That guy just asked me out to dinner,” you admitted, breathless but also, exasperated. Your tone completely threw her off.

She glanced back through the small window in the kitchen door, looking at the man in question before turning back to you, eyebrows furrowed.

“You’re joking, right?”

You shook your head, leaning back against the nearest table. She let out a short huff, then took a step closer. “Him? He asked you out?” There was a clear emphasis on who asked who, and that, unsettled you.

“I can’t believe it either—”

“So why aren’t you screaming right now?! He’s probably a multimillionaire, and instead of jumping for joy, you’re—what? Having a meltdown?” She grabbed your shoulders, looking way more excited about this than you were.

You just sighed, shaking your head, eyes dropping to the floor. “I don’t know… it doesn’t feel real.”

You shrugged, finally meeting her eyes. And she got it. She understood why you weren’t letting yourself be excited. Because you’d been broken one too many times. And if you just expected nothing, you wouldn’t be disappointed.

“I get it,” she said, softer now. “But listen to me-he means it. That guy comes here all the time, and not once has he asked a server out before.”

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical.

“I’m serious!” she insisted, turning you toward the door, both of you peeking through the window. “And, ugh, god, he’s so sexy.”

You nudged her playfully with your shoulder, but deep down? Yeah. You agreed, he was sexy. Maybe a little older than what you’d typically go for, but still, workable.

The two of you watched him, not-so-subtly, until more men approached his table. Black suits. Slicked-back hair. Money so rich you could smell it all the way from the kitchen.

And just like that, the excitement. That tiny flicker of hope. Gone. Your stomach dropped. You turned away immediately. Your friend lingered at the window for a second longer before following after you, now completely confused.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

You shook your head. Frustrated. “I knew this was bullshit,” you muttered, adjusting your uniform, glancing at her again. But she still didn’t get it.

“The guys sitting with him,” you nodded toward the door. “I guarantee he made a bet with them. A bet to see if he could land the most pathetic desperate whore in the area.”

Your friend’s face went blank before she groaned, rubbing her hands down her face in pure frustration. Then, she fixed you with a deadpan stare. “You cannot be serious right now.”

You stared at the floor, still fussing with your uniform, still seething.

“Oh my god. Do you have to overthink everything? Babe, that definitely didn’t happen—”

“You don’t know that.” You cut her off. She could see how pissed off you were. But more than the anger, it was fear showing in your eyes. Fear of another failure. Another rejection. And whether she believed it or not, you just didn’t have the capacity for that.

Not again.

She sighed, then pulled you into a comforting hug. She didn’t say anything at first. Just held you, tightly. Then, when she finally pulled back, she started speaking.

“Listen. Go to that dinner. Take the opportunity. And if that asshole hurts you in any way? I swear to god, I will break his fucking face.”

You laughed, even though you knew she meant every word.

“Thanks,” you murmured, smiling as the two of you hugged again. And despite the doubt clawing at the back of your mind, despite wanting to pretend like you never even got that stupid little card, you decided to take her advice.

To ‘Take the opportunity’ or however she said it.

The evening air was cool, streetlights flickered to life one by one, casting a warm golden glow over the quiet city. The sky was a deep navy blue, speckled with the first few stars peeking through the clouds. A gentle breeze kissed your skin as you stepped out, the distant hum of traffic blending into the soft rustling of leaves.

You looked breathtaking.

The black dress you wore wasn’t anything extravagant, but god, did it know how to hug your body in all the right places. The way it shaped your waist, the way it flowed down your thighs, teasing just enough skin to be dangerous. Every curve was perfectly framed, every movement of yours had a new level of grace and temptation.

And your makeup? Flawless.

Even after all the failed attempts, the frustrated groans, the “I’m not going!” breakdowns, the questioning-your-entire-life-choices moment, you pulled through. And damn, you looked stunning. Before stepping out, there was one last thing left to do. Selfie, and a private one for your best friend.

Her reply never miss.

A text so filthy you nearly threw your phone across the room. Something about how she’d absolutely devour you if she were into women. You gagged. You laughed. You loved her.

But right now, it was 7:50. According to Google Maps, the restaurant wasn’t too far. Except, you didn’t have a car. And a taxi? With what money? So, your only option was to power-walk like your life depended on it and pray you’d make it in ten minutes.

Even though you felt like every second of running had stripped away another layer of makeup and drained the last bit of life from your body, you made it.

You stood before the entrance. And yes, this was the place. And damn, it looked the part.

Marble stairs. Massive wooden doors that looked like they belonged in a palace. Golden accents along the walls. Flower-shaped lamps. A fountain right at the entrance. It was the kind of detail that made you feel both impressed and slightly terrified.

With a small stumble in your heels, which thankfully, no one seemed to notice, you approached the reception desk.

“Reservation under… Castillo,” you said softly.

The receptionist smiled, as if he’d been expecting you all along.

“Of course. Table fifteen. He’s already here.”

“Thank you,” you murmured before making a sharp turn toward the restroom. A quick pit stop was absolutely necessary.

Facing the mirror, you launched into full recovery mode. Fixing makeup, fluffing your hair, making sure you didn’t look like you had sprinted here. A touch of gloss, a final tug at your dress, and there you were again. Put together. Ready.

Then you stepped inside the dining hall and everything shimmered.

The chandeliers sparkled like frozen light. The pristine white tablecloths, the waiters in their spotless uniforms, the golden silverware—it was overwhelming in the best and worst way. Moving carefully, like someone who both belonged and absolutely did not, you scanned the room. Searching.

And then, there he was. Harry Castillo.

Sitting effortlessly poised, elbow resting on the table, finger near his lips, just like yesterday. He looked composed. Unreadable. Devastatingly attractive. You inhaled deeply and walked toward him.

“Hey! Sorry I hope I’m not late,” you said, voice softer than you intended. It took him a second to register your presence. But when he did…

His entire demeanor shifted.

The moment his gaze landed on you, his thoughts simply ceased to function. That dress. The way it sculpted around your curves. The delicate line of your neck. The subtle, hypnotizing sway of your chest as you moved, yes, he noticed. It was right then that he realized: keeping his thoughts entirely proper tonight? Yeah. Not happening.

Fuck. If this was your backup outfit, he'd kill to see what plan A looked like… without the dress.

“You look stunning,” he murmured, standing immediately like a gentleman from another era. Taking your hand, he pressed a soft kiss to the back of it. A shiver ran down your spine.

For a fraction of a second, you forgot how to breathe, and when you finally managed words, they came out in a breathless, “Thank you.”

You settled into your seat, praying the chair wouldn’t make an awkward screech, and picked up the menu, doing your absolute best to not embarrass yourself in the first five minutes.

“Was it a long trip?” he asked, reaching for his glass of water.

“Uh… no,” you lied smoothly. Absolutely no way you were going to tell him you walked here, face half-melting and muttering curses under your breath.

“And you?” you asked in return.

He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Nah, I live just around the corner. I know most of the restaurants around here.”

“I believe that. This place is… a different level.”

He nodded, leaning in just slightly. “Yeah, but you know what? People forget that food is just food. Great company is what makes it unforgettable, even in the smallest, messiest little pizza joint.”

That was surprisingly sweet. And unexpected.

“So you’re telling me you could’ve taken me to a kebab place by the train station?”

“Exactly. And if I’d known you’d show up looking like my most expensive investment, I’d have worn a tux.”

You laughed, glancing down at the menu. The tension in your shoulders was starting to ease. For the first time tonight, you felt… comfortable.

“I swear the food here’s good,” he added. “But if you ever want real pizza—I know a guy. One tooth, slaps the dough with his bare hands.”

“That sounds… hygienic.”

“It’s the best pizza in the city. But yeah, I only take people there if I know they’ve got a strong immune system.”

You laughed again. And for the first time in a long while, you didn’t feel the need to play a role. To impress, to overthink, to be perfect. You just felt like yourself. And that was refreshing in a way you hadn’t expected.

“Have you decided yet?”

You shook your head, lips pressed into a tight line. The menu was a battlefield of options. So many dishes, so many exotic names, and those prices? Just looking at them made your stomach twist. You didn’t want to come across as some broke girl who had no idea what foie gras was, but also not like a high-maintenance snob who’d order truffle oil on a toothpick just to impress.

Making a good first impression was hard, though technically, you already blew it the moment you spilled wine on his very expensive pants and ended up scrubbing his legs like some panicked Cinderella with a death wish.

“I get it,” he said with a slight nod. After a few seconds, you let out a quiet sigh and finally gave up. “Pick for me. I’m sure you know what’s good way better than I do.”

He looked up at you with the sweetest puppy eyes you’d ever seen, and your heart melted.

“Are you sure? It’s only polite to let the lady choose.”

“I’m sure, Mr. Castillo,” you said with a soft smile and a small tilt of your head.

“Well then,” he replied, closing his menu with a confident snap, “let’s hope you won’t regret it.” And just like that, he turned his full attention to you.

The dinner went surprisingly normal. Actually, scratch that—wonderfully.

Harry wasn’t the snob you half expected him to be. He didn’t name-drop luxury brands every two sentences, didn’t mention his bank account once. In fact, he didn’t flaunt anything at all, except maybe the way he actually listened to you.

Of course, you couldn’t tell him everything.

Like the fact that your restaurant job was the only thing keeping you from ending up on the street. Or that your family had basically washed their hands of you. Or that you’d once come dangerously close to selling weed just to afford rent.

Those charming little details didn’t need to make it to the dinner table.

But your favorite color? Rose type? Chocolate preference? You gave him those happily.

By the time you were halfway through your second glass of wine, your tongue was definitely loosening up. Your boldness had grown legs and was strutting confidently across the room.

“Mr. Castillo,” you said, setting your glass down, eyes twinkling. “I have a question for you.”

Harry turned toward you instantly, his posture subtly shifting as if bracing for something wild.

“This…” —you made a slow circle with your finger, gesturing at everything around you— “this whole thing. Is it… a bet?”

He blinked a few times, clearly not expecting that. Then a slow smile curled on his lips. But when he saw how serious your expression was, his smile faded slightly. “No… Why would you think that?”

You hesitated, then shook your head and waved it off. “Never mind, it’s nothing—”

“No, wait. If something made you think that, I want to know.” He wasn’t letting it slide. And honestly? That little fire in his eyes? Kind of hot.

You paused. Should you say it and sound like a complete idiot? The wine in your bloodstream whispered, screw it.

“I saw you yesterday. With a couple of guys. And I just… thought maybe you bet with them about this. About… me.”

Harry laughed. Not just a polite chuckle, he actually laughed. It wasn’t loud, but it was deep, warm, and ridiculously contagious.

You couldn’t help it, you started laughing too. Not at the situation, but because his laugh was so good, it practically reached inside you and pulled it out of you.

“Oh no,” he said, still smiling, “those were some of my coworkers. And I promise you, we don’t do things like that.”

The relief hit you like a wave, and you nodded slowly. Sure, he could be lying. He could be playing a game. But in that moment, you chose to believe him. No overthinking. No spiraling.

Just a beautiful dinner with a man who made you laugh, who looked at you like you mattered, who, somehow, made you feel like the main character in a life that wasn’t always kind.

And tonight? Tonight felt like it was finally giving you a break.

You laughed. You weren’t even sure what at anymore, but laughter had become the most natural reaction to anything that came out of his mouth.

Harry was… different. Unpredictable. Smart. And most of all, he listened. Not the fake ‘I’m nodding but thinking about steak’ kind of listening. No. He actually paid attention. Remembered things. Asked follow-up questions.

And the more you opened up, the easier it felt. Like you didn’t have to be anyone else to be enough.

You laughed at your own awkward moments, told him stories from your childhood, even admitted you used to eat sand when you were little, with chocolate ice cream, of course.

And he listened like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever heard.

And one thing you had to admit, throughout the whole dinner, you caught him stealing glances at your chest more than once. At first, he tried to be discreet, quick flicks of the eyes when you were sipping wine or looking at the menu. But later on? Yeah, he didn’t even pretend anymore.

But it wasn’t a gross, sleazy kind of stare. No. It was something else entirely. It was elegant, intense… reverent. Like he admired you, every curve, every breath, the way your collarbones caught the light, the subtle movement of your chest when you laughed.

It didn’t make you shrink. It made you pulse. Around nothing, yet. And if something shifted down there, let’s just say a full-blown waterfall was now a national emergency.

“Excuse me,” a voice interrupted you gently. “But we’re closing in ten minutes.”

One of the waiters had appeared beside your table. He spoke softly, his voice almost trembling. You didn’t blame him. You were, in a way, just like him, same position, same nervous awe around someone like Harry.

“Oh!” you gasped. “God, we’re so sorry! We totally lost track of time.”

Harry looked at you with a smile. But not the usual charming, practiced one. No, this one was warm. Genuine. The kind that makes your heart flutter… and maybe something else too.

You both started gathering your things. Harry reached into his coat, pulled out a wad of bills and tossed them on the table, no counting, no hesitation.

You almost choked. What you’d give for that amount of money? Better left unsaid.

“Thank you. Keep the change,” Harry said, patting the waiter gently on the shoulder.

You gave the poor guy a quick smile and followed your dinner date like he was leading you into battle… or heaven.

He walked with ease. Command. Confidence. You? You felt like a princess being led by her knight out of the ballroom. Maybe it was the wine. Or maybe it was the fact that, for the first time in ages, you actually felt like you yourself.

The moment you stepped outside, cold air slapped your skin.

“Are you cold? Where’s your coat?” Harry asked, brow slightly furrowed.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, unintentionally pushing your boobs up a bit more in the process, bonus points, apparently.

“Oh… I forgot it at home,” you said innocently. Truth was, you didn’t own one. Couldn’t afford it. But he didn’t need to know that.

Harry gave you a look. The kind that didn’t need words. Then, like a man on a mission, he took off his jacket.

“Oh wait, you really don’t have to—”

“Yes I do,” he cut in gently. “Can’t have you freezing, can we?”

Before you could argue, he was already draping the warm fabric over your shoulders. No asking. No drama. Just… doing.

And suddenly, you were warmer. Not just from the jacket, but from the man himself. And yeah, another point for Harry Castillo. And damn, was he stacking them up fast.

You pulled your phone out of your purse, pretending to check the time, but in truth, you were stalling. “I should probably go,” you murmured, still a little breathless from the whole evening.

Harry tilted his head. “Let me take you home. I’ve got a car waiting.”

Shit.

Panic crawled up your spine like a vine. You couldn’t let him see where you lived. It wasn’t horrible, but it also wasn’t this. Not this golden-drenched world of chandeliers and silk napkins. You bit your lip.

“Actually,” you blurted before you could stop yourself, “what if we went to yours instead?”

His eyebrows lifted slightly—just a flicker—but enough for your face to burst into flames.

“Wait, no—I didn’t mean it like that!” you rushed out. “I mean—God, I’m not trying to come off like… like one of those girls. I’m not, I swear, I just…” Your words tangled into a panicked mess. “It’s just complicated. My place is, well, complicated.”

Harry blinked once, then twice, and slowly, smiled. The kind of smile that made your stomach dip and your pulse skip a beat.

“I get it,” he said softly. “Believe me, I’m not one of those guys either. I don’t usually bring someone over after the first night.”

You exhaled in relief, feeling like your entire soul unclenched.

“That’s why,” he continued, stepping closer, “I booked us a suite for the night. Neutral territory.”

Your heart did a front flip.

It sounded crazy, no, was crazy, but in that moment, it somehow made sense. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the way he said it with zero pressure in his tone, like it was just a comfortable, no-expectations solution.

The drive was smooth and silent, your heart hammering against your ribs the closer you got. And then the hotel. Oh. My. God.

From the outside, the hotel didn’t just whisper wealth, it screamed it, elegantly. The building towered above the street, wrapped in sleek black glass that reflected the city lights like diamonds scattered across velvet. The entrance was framed by golden accents that shimmered under the glow of artfully placed spotlights, and a long crimson carpet stretched from the sidewalk all the way to the rotating glass doors, guarded by men in tailored suits and pristine gloves.

It wasn’t just a hotel. It was an experience. And you were suddenly part of it.

As soon as you stepped inside, you were swallowed by soft lighting and opulence. The marble floors gleamed under your heels, catching little stars from the massive crystal chandelier that cascaded from the ceiling like frozen rain. There were velvet armchairs in deep emerald green, tall indoor plants trimmed like they belonged in a palace, and staff that glided across the space like well-trained shadows, every movement graceful and hushed.

The scent of expensive perfume lingered in the air, sweet, musky, seductive. Even the air conditioning felt richer here.

You couldn’t help but glance at Harry, who walked beside you with that calm confidence like he owned the whole damn place. And honestly? He might as well have. And of course, everyone at the front desk knew him. Knew his name, his favorite drink, his room preference. Harry Castillo wasn’t just rich. He was a regular.

When you reached the elevator, the doors opened with a soft chime, revealing an interior wrapped in mirrored gold and black marble. You stepped in first, and the second the doors slid shut, something shifted.

The air between you thickened, like velvet, like smoke, like something unnamed but entirely understood. It was silent, except for the hum of the elevator. And yet your heart beat like a drum.

Harry stood next to you, close but not touching, his cologne crawling over your skin like a secret. His reflection in the mirror caught yours. He smirked slightly, nothing cocky, just that quiet kind of power that says I know exactly what I’m doing to you. You could feel it in your chest, in your stomach, between your thighs.

The elevator didn’t just take you up floors. It lifted something else. Something electric. Something that buzzed under your skin and begged to unravel.

As the elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, Harry stepped forward, pulling a sleek black card from his wallet. In one smooth, practiced motion, he swiped it through the lock. There was a quiet click, and the door unlocked.

“Ladies first,” he said, voice low and velvety. You stepped inside and your jaw nearly hit the floor.

The suite was massive. Not just hotel-room massive, penthouse massive. The kind of place you only see in movies or on Instagram when influencers casually spend the night with billionaires.

Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across the far wall, revealing the glowing skyline of the city. Thick ivory curtains were pulled back like theater drapes. The bed wasn’t just king-sized—it looked like it belonged in a palace. Silk sheets, a gold-accented headboard, and pillows that probably cost more than your entire rent.

A marble bar gleamed in the corner with tiny gold bottles lined up like jewelry. Plush velvet sofas sat near a sleek fireplace, and a massive flat screen was mounted on the wall. There was even a balcony, shimmering with the reflection of city lights.

Jesus Christ.

You turned slowly, breath caught in your throat. “This place… I don’t think I could afford it even if I lived five lives.”

Harry stepped in behind you, quietly shutting the door. He leaned against it with that signature casual confidence. “Do you like it?” he asked, watching you, not the room.

You turned to face him, still half in disbelief. “I mean, yeah. It’s like stepping into a dream. I didn’t even know places like this existed outside of Pinterest.”

He chuckled, stepping further inside. “I figured if we’re not going home, we might as well do it right.”

You nodded, heart fluttering in your chest like it had a mind of its own. “You really know how to set the mood, Mr. Castillo.”

“Well,” he said, smirking, “I try.”

You both wandered through the space, giggling and pointing at ridiculous features like the heated floors or remote-controlled curtains. He poured you both glasses of champagne from the minibar, something expensive you couldn’t pronounce, and you toasted to, whatever this night had become.

Then it happened.

You turned too quickly mid-laugh, champagne in hand, and your heel caught the edge of the rug. You stumbled, not dramatically, but enough to make your stomach lurch. You gasped and instinctively reached out for balance. Harry was already there.

One hand caught your wrist, the other your champagne glass, and in the span of a breath, your bodies were inches apart. Close enough to feel his warmth. Close enough to smell his cologne. Your laughter faded.

The air between you thickened. Your heart thudded in your chest as your eyes met his. Time slowed, or maybe just stopped. You weren’t thinking anymore. You weren’t nervous. You weren’t holding back.

You leaned in.

So did he.

The kiss was slow at first, gentle, uncertain. But it deepened quickly, growing warmer, more assured. It wasn’t reckless. It wasn’t rushed. It felt like everything that had been building between you had finally reached its breaking point.

It wasn’t just a kiss.

It was release. Tension melting. Electricity sparking. Breath shared between two people who, for some reason neither of you could explain, felt like they needed this moment. And maybe each other.

The kiss deepened with every passing second, slow and simmering, yet charged with a hunger you hadn’t realized was burning under your skin all night. His lips were soft but confident, like he’d been waiting for this as long as you had, maybe longer.

His hands slid to your waist, holding you gently but firmly, and yours found their way to the collar of his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric as if to anchor yourself.

There was no fumbling. No rush. Just the smooth, dangerous rhythm of something that felt inevitable.

He pulled you closer, guiding your body against his with a quiet, reverent care. You could feel his heartbeat through his shirt, or maybe it was your own pulse echoing everywhere, especially in places it had no business being so loud.

It was too much. Too good. Too fast.

You pulled back suddenly, breathing hard, your fingertips pressing lightly against his chest. He looked at you immediately, concerned, respectful, but still burning.

“I—I can’t,” you whispered, your voice shaking slightly. “I mean… I don’t sleep with someone on the first date. That’s not… me.”

His expression didn’t falter. He didn’t pout or try to convince you. Instead, he smiled, a slow, genuine smile that made your knees weak all over again.

“I don’t either,” he said softly. “Which is probably why I don’t go on dates often.”

You let out a breathy laugh, your nerves starting to untangle. Then he leaned in, kissed your forehead gently, and looked into your eyes like he was seeing straight through you.

“But… maybe tonight we both break a rule.”

You didn’t answer, not with words. Instead, your hands found the hem of his shirt and pulled him in, youd lips met again, hungrier, messier. Passion had cracked open the surface, and now it poured out like wildfire.

You felt wanted. Desired. Seen. And above all—you felt alive. Tonight wasn’t just a night. It was a beginning you hadn’t expected. And it was burning.

Your heels tapped softly against the polished floor, the long black dress hugging every curve as you let him guide you toward the bedroom. His grip was firm but reverent—like he couldn’t believe you were real, and didn’t want to risk you slipping away.

He guided you backwards, one slow step at a time and you let him lead.

The soft lighting from the minibar flickered behind him as you moved through the luxurious apartment, every step closer to the bedroom thickening the air between you. Your hand slid up to his chest, feeling the warmth through his shirt as your fingers moved to the buttons, undoing them one by one, never breaking the kiss.

One hand tangled in your hair and the other settled firmly on your waist, fingertips pressing into the silk of your dress. You gasped softly, and he took the chance to deepen the kiss, growling just enough against your lips to send a jolt straight through you.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he muttered between kisses. You smiled into his mouth, pulling him closer.

“I could worship this mouth all night,” he whispered, lips brushing your jaw, “and still not get enough of you.”

With each step back, your bodies collided, heat to heat, and he couldn’t stop touching you. His hand slipped behind you, running down your spine as the zipper of your dress gave way under his fingers.

“You’re stunning,” he breathed, his voice lower now, thicker. “Do you even realize what you’re doing to me?”

His hand slid down to your hip, gripping it just enough to make you bite your lip, and his mouth moved to your neck, kissing and grazing teeth just enough to pull a shaky moan from you.

“I want to ruin you,” he whispered, “let me take care of you.” Every word made your knees weaker, every kiss made your pulse wilder.

Your dress slipped off one shoulder. His bowtie came undone and fell somewhere behind you. Buttons popped open under your fingers as you walked, kissed, stumbled your way to the bedroom.

And just before the bed, he paused. Pulled back. Looked at you like you were carved out of stardust.

“You have no idea how good you look right now,” he said, his hands gliding down your waist, then gripping your thighs. “So fucking good. Like a dream I didn’t know I had.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before he kissed you again and lifted you effortlessly into his arms. The world tilted, and the next second, you landed on the bed in a pool of silk sheets and undone kisses.

Looking up at him, shirt halfway open, hair slightly messed, and desire radiating off his skin, you knew. You weren’t just about to be touched. You were about to be fucked, in the most sweetest way possible.

You still technically had your dress on, but it was a complete mess by now—half-unzipped, one strap hanging loosely off your shoulder. Harry didn’t look much better; his usually perfect hair was tousled, and a few buttons of his shirt had been undone, revealing a teasing glimpse of his toned chest.

But what truly caught your attention was the undeniable evidence of his arousal pressing against the front of his tailored pants. It knocked the air right out of your lungs.

Your pulse stumbled, your breath hitched, and you felt your mouth go dry, yet somehow flood with need at the same time. You tried to say something, anything, but words failed you. You were completely overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

Harry caught your stunned expression and simply smiled, a quiet, knowing smile that made your core pulsating ever more. He didn’t say a word. Instead, he leaned closer, his fingers brushing against your skin as he carefully slipped the rest of your dress down. The fabric pooled silently around your ankles, forgotten.

The moment you laid there, almost fully exposed to him, he dropped to his knees without hesitation. Soft, open-mouthed kisses landed against your legs first—hot, wet, and breathtaking. His lips traveled up slowly, lingering in places that made your whole body shiver and gasp. Some kisses were featherlight and ticklish, others deep and lingering, stealing the breath straight from your lungs.

By the time he reached your hips, your entire body was burning, vibrating with anticipation, and you realized just how desperately you craved every single touch he gave you.

As his mouth traveled over your body, Harry’s hands didn’t stay idle. They roamed your curves with a deliberate, possessive touch, sometimes gliding smoothly, other times gripping firmly enough to make you gasp his name and let out a soft, high-pitched squeal that made him chuckle low in his throat. Every reaction you gave him only seemed to encourage him more, fueling a dark gleam in his eyes.

Every so often, he murmured things against your skin, his voice rough with arousal.

“You’re unbelievable… so damn beautiful,” he whispered into the hollow of your hip, sending shivers rippling up your spine.

“I wanted this the moment I saw you.” His words fell like hot velvet, wrapping around you and making you feel even more helpless under his touch.

After what felt like an eternity of teasing and worshipping your skin with kisses, he leaned in again, his eyes never leaving yours as he slowly reached behind you to unhook your bra.

The moment he threw it away, he let out a low, appreciative breath. His hands immediately found your breasts, cupping and caressing them with a mixture of reverence and hunger, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive peaks until you whimpered and arched into him, desperate for more.

Harry took his time, lavishing attention on every inch of you like you were the most exquisite treasure he’d ever laid eyes on. His kisses grew hungrier, his hands a little rougher, but always careful, always worshipful.

When he knelt again to hook his fingers into the waistband of your panties, his gaze flicked down and caught sight of the wet patch soaking through the delicate fabric. A wicked smirk curled his lips.

“Already this wet for me, darling?” he murmured, the teasing lilt in his voice making your cheeks burn with embarrassment and excitement all at once.

He peeled the panties down torturously slow, making you shudder with anticipation. Once they hit the floor, you were completely bare for him, trembling under the weight of his gaze. Harry looked at you like you were something rare, precious, something he could never get enough of.

And despite how exposed you were, you had never felt more wanted, more craved, than you did in that moment, laying there trembling, your skin marked with his kisses and your heart racing wildly in your chest.

“You have the most beautiful pussy I've ever seen,” Harry’s eyes locked onto yours, dark and molten with desire, as his hands slid slowly up from your ankles, gliding along your calves and thighs. His touch was firm, claiming, yet never rough. When he reached your inner thighs, he gripped them tightly, split them, grounding you, holding you exactly where he wanted you.

It wasn’t painful—far from it. It was commanding, reassuring, a silent way of saying you’re mine right now. Your breath hitched, your body trembling with anticipation. You were already so sensitive, so worked up, that even the brush of his fingers made you whimper.

Soft, desperate sounds slipped from your parted lips almost constantly now, tiny moans and gasps that Harry drank in like a man starved. His smirk deepened, pride flickering in his gaze at just how undone you were under his touch.

He gave you one last, heated look, a look so intense it made your stomach flip, before lowering himself between your thighs, disappearing beneath you with a predatory grace.

The moment his mouth met you, you nearly sobbed. His tongue was hot, deliberate, and devastatingly slow. He tasted you with a reverence that made your head spin, his hands squeezing your thighs tighter whenever you tried to move away from the overwhelming pleasure.

“F-fuck Harry—“ one hand of yours flying to his hair, gripping it as if it was the only thing anchoring you to reality.

Harry wasn’t in a hurry. He explored you like he had all the time in the world, dragging his tongue through your folds, pausing only to plant slow, sucking kisses that left you panting his name. When you cried out particularly loud, his hands tightened just a little more, keeping you firmly against his mouth.

His tongue was thorough, not missing a tiny spot, licking all your juices from just the surface of your labia. From time to time, he looked at your expression, at your tightly shut eyes, eyebrows furrowed upwards, how hard you were trying to be quiet by biting your lower lip, and how you were trembling under his touch.

You could feel his pleased growl vibrate against you, the sound shooting straight through your core and making you arch off the bed. The world blurred around you, your only focus the man between your thighs, the relentless, exquisite way he worshipped you with his mouth.

Harry groaned low in his throat as he pressed his mouth harder against you, his tongue slipping inside you with a slow, deliberate thrust that made your entire body jolt.

You let out a desperate, broken moan, as he moved his tongue deep and slow at first, teasing, exploring, savoring every reaction he dragged out of you.

Every time he curled his tongue just right, your hips bucked involuntarily against his mouth. His hands on your thighs tightened their hold, keeping you exactly where he wanted you, utterly at his mercy.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured against you between strokes of his tongue, the vibration of his voice sending new waves of pleasure coursing through your veins. “You’re doing so fucking good for me. Tasting so sweet…”

You couldn’t even form words. Only desperate whimpers and high, keening moans fell from your lips, one after another, growing louder the deeper he went. Your whole body trembled beneath him, your fingers tugging harder at his hair in a silent plea for more, for everything.

Harry’s cock strained painfully against his trousers, throbbing with need, but he didn’t stop. No, he couldn’t stop, even if he wanted to. Watching you fall apart under him, hearing those beautiful sounds pouring from your mouth, feeling the way you clenched around his tongue—it was better than any release he could imagine.

His tongue moved faster now, plunging and flicking, occasionally circling your clit just to hear the wrecked cries it tore from you.

“Fuck, you’re so good, you know that?” he panted between kisses, his voice rough with hunger and awe. “So fucking perfect for me, angel. Look at you…”

You glanced down through heavy, lidded eyes and the sight of him between your thighs—his dark hair tousled, his lips slick and red, his eyes burning with adoration and hunger—nearly broke you.

The pressure in your core tightened unbearably. Every stroke of his tongue, every graze of his teeth against your sensitive skin, every whispered praise in that low, sinful voice pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

Your moans turned into cries, your body tensing, hips rocking against his face as pleasure coiled tighter, hotter, until you were right there, teetering on the brink, completely and utterly lost in him.

It was messy. It was wet. It was dizzyingly perfect. And Harry seemed addicted to every second of it.

Your body was trembling uncontrollably, every muscle tight, every nerve alight with pure, overwhelming pleasure. With a final, deep stroke of his tongue, Harry sent you flying over the edge.

You cried out his name, back arching off the bed, fingers tangling in his hair. Waves of ecstasy crashed through you, one after another, leaving you gasping, moaning, trembling beneath him.

Harry didn’t stop. He slowed, soothing you through the aftershocks with soft kisses and gentle strokes of his hands along your thighs, grounding you, worshipping you.

“There you go, beautiful,” he whispered, voice wrecked but so full of love. “Tasted even better than I though… fuck, you’re everything.”

You could barely catch your breath, your entire body humming, still quivering. Harry pressed a few more soft kisses to your thighs before slowly rising, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

It was only then that he began undoing the rest of his shirt, shrugging it off his shoulders with slow, deliberate movements. His skin was flushed, muscles flexing under the low light, and you couldn’t look away.

When he kicked off his pants too, leaving himself in nothing but his boxers, the sight of him nearly made your heart stop. Something primal lit up inside you.

The exhaustion from before was gone, replaced with a burning need so fierce you didn’t even recognize yourself. Hormones raged through you, clouding every thought except for him.

When he crawled on top of you, you barely gave him a chance to react before you grabbed him and flipped him onto his back, your body moving on pure instinct.

Harry let out a surprised, delighted laugh. “Oh, so I’ve got a little dragoness here, huh?”

You just smirked down at him, your eyes dark with lust, and then you began your own form of sweet revenge.

You kissed down his chest slowly, teasingly, making sure your lips barely brushed his skin, feeling him shiver under you. You trailed even lower, biting gently at his hipbone, smiling when he let out a low, desperate groan.

His hands fisted the sheets, muscles straining as he tried to keep himself still for you.

“Tease,” he rasped, but there was nothing but pure worship in his voice. “Fuck, you’re driving me insane, baby.”

You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down, painfuly slow. His cock sprang free, heavy and flushed and so ready for you, making your mouth water.

You took your time, pressing soft kisses along his thighs first, deliberately avoiding where he needed you most. He kept murmuring under his breath, calling you “so good,” “so beautiful,” “my perfect girl,” between ragged breaths.

Finally, finally, you let your mouth wrap around him, slow and deep. But only at his pink tip, already leaking with pre-cum.

Harry threw his head back with a broken moan, one hand flying to your hair but not forcing, just holding, like he needed you to stay connected.

Then you went deeper, making him hissed and jolt. You moved at your own pace, swirling your tongue, hollowing your cheeks, occasionally pulling off just to tease him with slow licks along his length. Every time you did, he cursed under his breath, voice rough and needy.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, sweetheart… fuck, keep going,” he gasped, hips trembling as he fought not to thrust into your mouth.

You loved it. How undone he was for you, how he melted under your touch, how every sound he made was raw and real and just for you. The more you moved, the louder his breathing grew, the more his thighs tensed under your hands. His praise became broken, desperate:

“So good… my good girl… my sweet, sweet girl—ah, fuck—don’t stop—”

You could feel him getting closer, every muscle in his body pulled taut like a bowstring, his dick twitching inside your spongy mouth. His hands gripped you tighter, his voice wrecked and pleading.

“D-darlin' I am gonna cu—“ but before he could finish his warning, he threw his head all the way back and with every force in his body he tried not to move his hips upwards and pushed himself deeper into your mouth.

When he finally came, it was with a loud, wrecked cry of your name, his whole body shuddering violently beneath you.

It was messy and hot and overwhelming, and you didn’t mind it one bit. You stayed there, swallowing every bit of him. He tasted sweet yet bitterly, but the combination itself was tasty. You felt his fingers stroke through your hair in shaky, adoring motions as he tried to catch his breath.

“Jesus Christ, baby…” he panted when he finally managed words, looking down at you with a gaze so full of love and awe it made your heart ache. “You were absolutely insane…” you chuckled, before pulling him out of your mouth, slowly, but he still groans. The sudden cold air touching his swollen tip, it's always a shock.

You slowly licked your lips and fingers clean, tasting him, savoring the salty, intoxicating flavor of him. Harry’s gaze darkened instantly. He looked absolutely wrecked, completely undone by the sight of you. Wild, messy, glistening just for him.

Without warning, he couldn't help himself and he surged forward, grabbing your face and kissing you hard.

The kiss was filthy and desperate, your mouths colliding, teeth clashing, tongues tangling as you both tasted each other fully, the unique mixture of your essences fueling the fire even higher.

Harry groaned low in his chest, pulling you against him like he couldn’t get enough. His dominance returned in full force, his hands strong and sure as he rolled you onto your back, covering your body with his own.

His eyes locked with yours, burning with love and raw hunger. He cupped your cheek, breathing heavily, giving you a moment.

“Are you ready, beautiful?” he murmured against your lips, voice low and rough. “You’re doing so good for me. I'm so proud of you.”

You nodded breathlessly, heart hammering so loud you were sure he could hear it. He kissed you once more, softer now, full of unspoken promises, before positioning himself carefully at your entrance.

His tip brushed youe folds, your juices served as a natural lubricant, so it wasn't really hard for Harry to go in. The first push was slow, cautious, his body trembling with restraint. You whimpered at the initial stretch, clinging to his shoulders.

Harry immediately started stroking your cheek, murmuring against your skin. “That’s it, sweetheart. Doing so good for me. Let me in, yeah? Breathe, baby… I’ve got you.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, from the intensity, from the overwhelming feeling of being so close to him. He moved slowly, giving you time, whispering soft encouragements, letting you adjust to the fullness of him.

You felt like he was endless. He kept pushing deeper and deeper, reaching places you could only dream of, stretching you out so much, that he left no room for anything else, barely for air.

When he was fully inside, he stilled, pressing kisses along your jaw and neck, both of you panting heavily, your bodies trembling from the connection. For a moment, it was pure intimacy, your bodies fitting together perfectly, hearts beating wildly against each other, soft whimpers escaping both your mouths.

Harry rocked into you with slow, shallow thrusts, just enough to keep you connected, to let you feel every inch of him.

“You’re perfect,” he breathed, resting his forehead against yours. “You’re mine.”

But as the minutes passed and your body relaxed around him, the pace shifted.

Harry’s movements became deeper, stronger, pulling moans from your throat you couldn’t have held back if you tried. The bed began to creak with the force of his thrusts, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room alongside your gasps and desperate cries.

Harry didn’t let up with the sweet words. If anything, he poured them over you even more, his voice hoarse and wrecked with feeling.

“My beautiful girl… so tight, so good for me… fuck, taking me so well.”

Inside, you felt completely lost—lost in him, in the pleasure, in the overwhelming love radiating from every touch, every thrust. You clung to him like a lifeline, nails digging into his back, head thrown back in ecstasy as he hit deeper, harder, dragging whimpers and desperate moans from you.

Then, just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, Harry shifted one hand between your bodies, expertly finding your clit with his fingers. You gasped, your body jolting under him, the added stimulation sending electric shocks of pleasure through your entire being.

“That’s it, baby… let go for me,” he murmured against your neck, his voice shaking with how close he was too. You were spiraling fast, the pleasure building higher and higher, unstoppable.

But then Harry suddenly slowed, breathing heavily, and with a gentle grip on your hips, he flipped you over onto him, guiding you into his lap.

“You’re so amazing,” he said, smiling up at you, still breathless. “Ride me, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

You were shaky, overwhelmed, but Harry’s hands on your hips steadied you, supporting you as you sank down onto him again.

The new angle was deeper, more intense, and when he reached down and found your clit again with his fingers, you nearly sobbed from how good it felt. He was doing regular circles, at the same speed as you were bouncing on him, creating a perfect balance that won't hold you back for too long.

You moved together, messy and desperate, the sounds of wet skin and desperate gasps filling the room. Harry’s praises continued, slurred and broken with pleasure:

“So good… so fucking beautiful… look at you, riding me like a goddess.”

You clung to him, barely able to keep moving as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. Your nails dug deeply into his shoulders, definitely leaving a bruise there, but he didn't care. He takes it as a souvenir from this night. You screamed so loudly, your core clenching around his twitching dick, every muscle, every nerve in your body tensed and you swear in one particular moment, you saw white stars.

When you finally came, your entire body locked up as you shattered around him. The clenching of your walls around him pulled Harry over the edge right after, his hips jerking up into you, his arms wrapping tightly around your trembling form. He buried his head in your shoulder and growled loudly, his voice stammering and jerky.

He held you close in a bear hug, not letting go, grounding you as you both rode out the aftershocks together. Breathless, sweaty and completely ruined.

Your body feels like it’s melting into his. The aftershocks are still rippling through you both, and neither of you moves for a long moment. Harry’s chest rises and falls against yours, his forehead pressed to your shoulder, his breathing uneven.

Slowly, he lifts his head to look at you. His eyes are soft, a little dazed, full of something so raw it makes your heart ache.

“Hi,” he whispers, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. You laugh quietly, feeling shy and overwhelmed all at once. You reach up and brush a strand of hair off his forehead.

Harry kisses your fingers and then, with a soft grunt, carefully pulls out of you, making sure he’s gentle, murmuring soft apologies against your skin when you wince at the sensitivity.

Before you can even blink, he’s scooping you up into his arms, carrying you like a princess, strong and secure. You squeal softly, burying your face against his neck, and he chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest.

The bathroom is warm and steamy within seconds. You step into the shower together, the hot water raining down, and he pulls you back against his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around you. He treats you like you’re made of glass, tender, slow, patient.

Neither of you says much.

It’s just quiet touches, soft kisses along your damp skin, the shared breaths between you. He washes you gently, his hands steady, his touch reverent. You tilt your head back against him, letting your eyes close, feeling completely weightless in his care.

Every once in a while, he whispers something into your ear. Sweet things, praises, promises you can barely catch over the sound of the water. You feel worshipped. Safe.

When you’re both clean, Harry grabs a towel and dries you off himself, smiling softly the entire time like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held. Without a word, he lifts you into his arms again, carrying you back to the bed.

He lays you down gently, crawling in next to you immediately, not letting you go for even a second. He pulls the covers over both of you, wrapping himself around you like a protective shield.

Your head rests against his chest, and you listen to the steady thump of his heartbeat, feeling your eyelids grow heavier and heavier. Harry’s fingers trace lazy patterns along your back.

“I’ve got you.” he whispers against your hair and without minutes, you fall asleep wrapped in him, both naked, both tired but both happy.

The morning sun beamed into your room, which still smelled like sex. It hit you right in the face, so you had no choice but to wake up. You opened your eyes, sunlight spills across the room, highlighting every little detail: Harry’s messy hair, his relaxed face, the way he’s still smiling even in sleep.

And suddenly, the guilt hits you like a tidal wave and you can't breath. You slept with him. On the first night. Harry Castillo.

He belongs to a different world—wealth, fame, endless connections—and you’re barely scraping by, struggling just to keep up with bills. What if he wakes up and realizes? What if he thinks you used him?

Your chest tightens painfully. You need to leave. Before you ruin everything. Slowly, carefully, you begin to untangle yourself from his arms. The cool air prickles against your bare skin as you quietly pick up your clothes from the floor, trying not to make a sound.

Just as you slip into your dress, you hear his sleepy voice behind you:

“Where are you going?”

You freeze. Turning around, you see him blinking up at you, completely disheveled and adorably confused, reaching out a hand to pull you back into bed.

“I… I have to go,” you whisper.

He frowns, sitting up, the blanket pooling around his waist. His bare chest is bathed in the soft morning light, and he looks almost too good to be real.

“Don’t go,” he mumbles, still half-asleep. “Just stay…”

You want to. God, you want to. But the guilt is too heavy. It weighs down your every breath.

“I… I have to,” you say again, voice shaking. You grab your heels with trembling fingers, your heart breaking with every step away from him. But Harry is already getting out of bed. He walks straight to you, no hesitation, and cups your face in his hands, forcing you to look into his eyes.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

Tears well up in your eyes before you can stop them.

“I feel awful,” you manage to say. “I feel like… like I used you. I don’t want you to think I’m only here because of who you are, because of your money, your name, your connections. I don’t want to be that person.”

For a long, terrifying second, he says nothing. And then Harry smiles. A soft, heart-melting smile.

“I would never think that about you,” he murmurs. “Not for a second.” His thumbs brush away your tears, his touch achingly tender.

“From the moment I saw you — messy apron, tired smile, kind eyes — I knew you were different. I knew you were good. You have no idea how rare that is.”

He pulls you into his arms again, holding you tightly, as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

“I’m not letting you go just because you’re scared,” he says quietly, meaning every word. And this time, you let yourself stay. You bury your face into his warm skin, feeling his heartbeat against your cheek, and you finally allow yourself to exhale, to trust.

When he finally pulls back a little, his smile is soft and teasing.

“You’re not seriously thinking about sleeping in that, are you?” he says, glancing pointedly at your half-buttoned shirt and crumpled jeans.

You let out a breathy laugh, feeling your cheeks flush. “No,” you murmur.

“Good,” he grins as you drop your things on the floor, not caring where they land. Holding intense eye contact, you start removing your dress.

He helps you, his face once again filled with surprise as he sees you bare—like it’s the very first time all over again.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whimpers, brushing his nose against your neck and making you laugh.

Before you can even catch your breath, he lifts you up and throws you both back onto the bed, your laughter echoing through the room.

When you wake up, again, you blink sleepily and stretch, only to find Harry already awake, propped up on one elbow, smiling down at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Morning, gorgeous,” he says, voice still rough from sleep. You can’t help but smile back. He leans down and kisses you, slow and sweet.

“Come on,” he says, tilting his head. “I’m making you breakfast.”

You pad after him into the kitchen, wrapped in nothing but his white shirt, that hangs down to your thighs. Harry looks completely at home, hair messy, only wearing boxers, barefoot on the cool floor.

He moves around the kitchen like he’s done it a thousand times, making pancakes from scratch, humming under his breath. Every so often he steals a glance at you and smirks when he catches you staring. You sit on the counter, legs swinging, watching him.

And somehow, sitting there in his kitchen, wearing his clothes, laughing with him like you’ve known him forever, you realize you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

With him.

Hi!! Thank you so much for reading!

I hope you guys enjoyed it! This was my very first fic about Harry Castillo and I’m absolutely freaking out because he’s just so RAAA. Anyway, if you have any suggestions, don’t hesitate to let me know! I’d also be super happy for any feedback; whether it’s a reblog, comment, like, or even a follow.

Have a beautiful day,

Love ya🦋🩵

[eufezco]

NEW OLD JOEL 𓂃 𓈒 ❀

old man!joel x younger!fem!reader

synopsis – after years on the road, you and joel finally settle in jackson and there's nothing you love more than coming back from work to your old man wearing those glasses.

smut. fluff

the last of us masterlist

after traveling what felt like the entire world following joel, you both finally decided to settle down in jackson. it was peaceful, a not so small community anymore where you could breathe again, where you could do more than just survive. eat three meals a day. sleep through the night without one eye open. and with all that peace came space, to feel, to think, to finally let yourself consider what had been quietly building between you and joel all this time.

he was reluctant at first. the age gap weighed on him more than it ever did on you. you’d never brought it up, never even seemed to notice it in the ways he did. but you two had lived too much together since you first started traveling with ellie. that kind of bond didn’t come easily. yet joel didn’t think he had the right to want something as soft, as tender, as the love you showed him. and jackson helped him with that. the town gave him the kind of peace he never thought he’d earn. and slowly, as the years passed, joel softened and started to accept the life he deserved and appreciate the little things.

the way you massaged his shoulders after a long day of work, the way he always made sure you were warm in the mornings when he had to leave early, how you'd wake up tucked beneath an extra blanket. you built a life together made up of shared breakfasts and quiet evenings walking through the snow-covered streets of jackson, of fixing things around the house side by side, of laughter in the kitchen when something burned, and the way he'd kiss your temple like it didn’t matter.

—hi, —you said coming into the house. joel looked up from where he was sitting at the table, glasses low on his nose, hands busy with something that needed to be fixed. his eyes softened the second he saw you.

—hey, darlin’, —he said, —you’re back early.

—yeah, the snow is getting worst, there wasn't much we could do in the garden, —you replied, shrugging off your coat and hanging it up by the door.

joel gave a small nod, eyes following your every move, —i figured, —he said, —how’s the ground looking? any chance we can save anything before the winter really sets in?

you sighed, taking a moment to pull off your gloves and slide them into your pocket. —a few plants are holding up, but it’s mostly the cold that’s making it tough. i’m thinking of giving it another shot in the spring, once everything starts to warm up.

joel hummed. you approached him and hugged him from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder. his hand, still holding the small tool, paused for a second before he gently placed it down, he took one of your hands in his, bringing it up to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

—how was your day? —you asked.

—good, busy. dina told me the cracked main lines are full of roots. should've checked them but i forgot, —he rubbed his hands over his face, clearly annoyed with himself. you could see how much he cared about getting things right, about showing that he was still capable, still useful. he picked the piece again and fidgeted with it.

—it's okay, you can get it done tomorrow. the main lines aren't going to move, —you reassured him, your voice gentle, as you smoothed your hand over his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath your palm.

—yeah, you’re right. tomorrow’s another day, —the therapy sessions were working, somehow, because never in your life would you have imagined the joel you first met would learn to take things slow.

you kissed his cheek, his beard tickling your lips, as your hand slid slowly over his chest. you couldn't help but smile at how lost he was in the task, not even seeming to notice the way you were touching him. you pressed a gentle kiss to the side of his neck, letting your lips pressed there for just a second before pulling back.

—joel, —you murmured. your fingers brushed against his before you gently took the small tool from him and set it on the table. you moved closer, slipping one knee over his lap, easing yourself down until you were straddling him. —are you planning on working all night?

joel's hands instinctively found your hips, steadying you, surprised but not willing to stop you. —was just about done here, —he said, —then i was gonna give you every bit of my attention. but i see you've got other plans for me.

you loved how he looked with the glasses low on his nose, made him look more domestic, but you gently slid them off, folding them and setting them on the table. his eyes followed the movement, then back up to yours, darker now but entirely focused.

—thought you liked those, —he murmured.

—i do, —you whispered, —but i'm afraid they might get in the way.

he hummed, his eyes fixed on your lips.

you unbuttoned the flannel he wore beneath his jacket. he watched you, barely breathing, his hands still resting on your hips but his thumbs began to trace soft circles through the fabric of your jeans. you sighed softly as the last button came undone, revealing his body. your hand moved over his chest, tracing the old, pale scars that marked his skin. your eyes moved lower, taking in the softness of his belly, the way he relaxed under your gaze instead of tensing. you bit your lower lip, what if you said this was the sexiest he has ever looked?

—i couldn't wait to get back home to you, —you brushed your nose against his, you hips started rolling against his own. joel swallowed, his hands flexed where they held you, fingers tightening just a little.

—yeah? —he asked, his voice low, a little gruff.

you nodded, and your lips finally met his in a kiss that felt like it had been waiting to happen all day. it was desperate, needy, but slow and passionate. your fingers sank into the soft, graying hair at the back of joel’s head, tugging gently, needing him closer. he groaned low in his throat, his hands working hungrily on the zipper of your jeans.

you lifted your hips from his so he could slid your jeans down your legs and immediately after, you straddled him again. as your fingers worked on the buckle of his belt and then unzipped his pants, joel's big hands cupped your ass, pushing you forward and encouraging you to grind against his crotch.

you whined, feeling the rough fabric of his jeans through the thin one of your panties. you pulled down his underwear, just enough for his cock to sprung free. you connected your lips with his again, his hands now on your cheeks as you lowered yourself just enough for his tip to go in. he let out a deep grunt straight from his chest, you let out all the air you had in your lungs in a moan.

you took all of him. joel let his head rest on your shoulder as his hands traveled down your body to your hips. he helped you move, at first just rocking your body back and forth against his. your lips, half parted pressed together, made it easier for your breaths to mingle. then, you lifted your body and then dropped back onto him. you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed his lips while you repeated that same move again and again.

—fuck, yeah, just like that, —joel groaned in your ear.

you tried not to be so loud, you didn't want to attract anyone's attention or cause a scandal. but your cries and his moans eventually echoed on the walls of your living room every time you lifted yourself a bit more and then sucked his cock completely inside you again.

joel rose from the chair in one fluid motion, his strong hands holding your weight. with a sweep of his arm, tools and scraps went to the floor, forgotten. he laid you down on the now-cleared table, the wood cool against your back, contrast to the heat building between you as his cock never left your body.

—did so good for me, now let me take care of you, hm?

he grabbed your thighs with firm hands and guided your legs around his waist so he could go deeper. your heels pressed into his lower back as he leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours. the table cracked with each one of his thrusts and you feared it might break, it wouldn't be the first time joel would need to ask his brother for help in repairing a piece of furniture that you had broken since your arrival in jackson.

one of his hands sneaked in between your bodies and found your clit, his fingers moving fast and with urgency as he felt how you were getting tighter and tighter. you closed your eyes shut, feeling a little dizzy from all the panting as your body jerked and squeezed his own between your legs as you came. after that, he didn't last much longer and released himself inside you.

you both stayed there for a few minute. joel rested on top of you and with your legs still around him, you welcomed the weight of his body pressing you down onto the table. you played with his hair as he finally looked at you. you showed him a little smile and he gave a quick kiss to your lips.

—my body's gonna hurt so much tomorrow from this.

you giggled, —i'll make sure to give you the best massage ever.

you showed him a little smile, and he gave you a quick kiss to your lips. but as you pulled away, both of you noticed the mess of tools and pieces scattered across the floor, the work joel had been focused on before everything had shifted between you.

—i'm afraid you're gonna have to start all over again.

—with that or with you?

[josephquinnswhore]

the day your heart stops yearning - pedro pascal x female reader

summary: pedro is tired of the two of you dancing around your feelings for each other.

word count: 1.2k

content warnings: bitta jealously, insecurity from reader, mentions of sex, suggestive comments etc. Pedro is the loml I swear these new pictures have altered my brain chemistry.

Wrapping the towel around yourself tightly, you sit down as your swimsuit soaks through the material. Hair dripping wet and skin cooled down from the sea water. Pedro looked incredible, his hair wet and curly. Droplets of water running down his toned chest.

His board shorts tighten and stick to his thighs and crotch. Swallowing thickly, you help him put his sling back on to support his shoulder injury.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” His voice calls to you softly, drawing you out of your thoughts, every time you were with Pedro, you seemed to be lost in them. Somewhere far away from him.

There’s a moment's hesitation where you process what he’s said, reeling yourself back to the serenity around you. The two of you are on a small boat, surrounded by clear blue water, bright and mirroring the clearness of the sky. Not a cloud in sight.

There’s a formation of an unnaturally curved rock, shaped by erosion, perhaps the gods. The sight would’ve been worthy of such creation. Pedro was wearing nothing but his multi-coloured board shorts, and a deep blue sling.

“That doesn’t even come close to it. I can't describe how it feels to be here.”

With you.

But the words are lost, dying on the tip of your tongue as they had many times before. More often than not the two of you had done this, your own separate outing together aside from everyone, co-stars and friends.

“How’s your shoulder feeling?” The concerned murmur is met with a smile that he reserved for you. All teeth baring and eye wrinkles exposing themselves, the smile that reaches his eyes. His deep brown orbs aren’t much to be seen now, eyes squinted as he laughs.

“You’re worrying about me at a place like this?” He tilts his head, the one curl from his messy brown mop of hair falls onto his forehead, and he runs his hand through it, pushing the hair back off his skin.

He’d always found a way to lighten the mood, sending some kind of solemnness emitting from you today, he knew you better than anyone. The feeling had his insides clenching with anxiety.

It had been happening for years, the two of you having some unspoken moments where you couldn’t deny that there was a connection between you, something so effortless and heart wrenching at the same time. So many unspoken words and almost confessions.

“Hey,” he draws you out of your head again, lost in the fog of heartache and doubt.

He looked so good with Connie, that’s all you’d thought about since you’d flown to Malta with Pedro. They seemed so perfect for each other—the way he looked at her while he filmed their shared scenes. It felt real.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m just thinking about some things.” It was easy to brush off, or to pretend to anyway.

“Since when do you keep things from me? Somethings going on with you, come on, spill your heart to me honey.” Meeting his gaze, the brown orbs suck you into an intoxicating familiarity of the love you so desperately crave.

“Can this wait? I don’t want to ruin all of this.” Gesturing to the view, the lapping sound of the water against the side of the boat, the gentle rocking sensation sends your stomach spiralling into more unease.

“You aren’t ruining anything, talk to me.” Setting his can of beer down, he shuffles closer to you, placing his hand on your exposed thigh. “Talk to me.” He pleads again.

“I miss you.” The simply utter broke the silence between you, cutting through the background noise.

He knew what you meant. There hadn’t been much time for the two of you to see each other. Between filming for Gladiator II and the new Fantastic Four franchise. Yet—he knew it ran deeper than that.

You missed the picnics, the shared gazes of knowing and mutual love. The late night dancing and his hands running through your hair, the two of you unable to let go of one another.

The sex you miss, too. But not nearly enough as you crave for his skin on your own, for his hand in yours and his heart in your hands.

“Oh, sweetheart—“ he sounds so sweet, so sincere, but you cut him off anyway.

“Pedro.. don’t. We don’t need to do this today.”

He stares at you, wondering what’s happening in that head of yours.

“You know how I feel about you, right?” He murmurs, tracing unnamed shapes over your skin.

“I suppose so.” All he gets is an uncertain shrug from you.

He frowns, the stress lines on his face appear on his forehead. “My heart is yours, sweetheart.” He utters your name softly, fingers leaving your thigh to caress your cheek.

“What’s it matter how we feel? We can’t be together. You practically are married to the entire internet and it’s not practical for us to date.” Finally, he was getting to the root of it all.

“Fuck being practical,” he murmurs. “Tell me how you feel, just say it to me, I’ll do right by you.”

It feels like your throat is swelling up, preventing you from uttering the words you’ve longed to tell him for years. Somehow, you blurt them out in an anxious whisper.

“I love you.”

Before you could process the admittance of your love, he had pressed his own lips softly against yours. It certainly wasn’t the first time you’d kissed, but this time felt more authentic.

Your fingers caress his face, his facial hair tickles your fingers as you hold him against you, his nose is pressed into your cheek and it’s a little awkward. But your heart is pounding erratically in this moment, eyes closed and focusing on the feeling of his lips, his hand clutches the back of your neck.

After a few moments, he pulls away from you, pupils blown wide take up most of the mass around the deep brown iris. “I love you,” the whisper in return was made against your lips, his nose against your own.

“Tell me you’re mine, that we’re going to do this properly.” He pleads, he’s too close for you to look at anything but his eyes. The pleading gaze of hope in them.

“I want that, want you.”

The words aren’t lost on him, the entire afternoon is spent in seclusion, the two of you holding each other, kissing and wrapped around each other as if you were two halves of a whole.

Your fingers are white, lathered in sunscreen as you apply the substance on Pedro’s back. “We really should’ve done this hours ago.” You scold lightly, to which he laughs, shaking his head.

As you trace his back while you’re applying the sunscreen, making sure to cover all the freckles on his skin, and his arms as you trail down. Fingers running up the muscled limb as you return to the base of his neck to give a light massage.

He’s not subtle when it comes to how you made him feel, a loud breathy groan escapes his lips.

“Feel good?” The purr turns his cheeks red—he turns to you.

“Such a tease. If we weren’t in public you’d be in trouble.”

“Maybe we should head back to the hotel now then?”

He perks at your suggestion. The corner of his lip tugs upward in a slight smirk. Pleased with the idea of having you all to himself.

“My girls just got all the right ideas, don’t she?”

My girl—his girl. After years of pining and yearning over more from him, he’s given you the chance you’d dreamed of.

[millers-girl]

things worth saving

chapter 3 of willow & whiskey

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: you and Joel come together, and fall apart, all within the confines of Bill's town.

warnings/tags: age gap, adult language, blood and violence, death

word count: 4.8k

series masterlist

The next morning, the sun pulled you from sleep, though it did little to fight the exhaustion weighing on your body. You’d gotten little sleep last night – waking every so often to check on Ellie to make sure she was okay… and maybe every once in a while, your eyes drifted to where Joel sat on watch. Your empathic heart couldn’t help but bleed for his.

While Joel didn’t give anything away, Ellie was quieter than usual, and you could tell she was lost in her thoughts. Instead of pressing her to talk, you simply laid beside her, staring up at the sky. You pointed out constellations, whispering their stories, letting the sound of your voice fill the silence between you. You saved Orion––her favorite––for last.

Eventually, her breathing evened out, body relaxing against the makeshift pillow of her pack. You stayed up, watching the stars blink in and out of focus. What you didn’t notice was Joel, sitting a few yards away, listening. Watching. 

His weary gaze settled on you, ears tuned in to every word you spoke. He’d caught the way you shifted restlessly in your spot, rolling onto your side and then back, your body shivering against the cold. You had draped your jacket over Ellie without hesitation, leaving you to suffer the chill now.

When you woke, Joel's jacket was over you.

The warmth of it, the smell of earthy leather, lingered as you pulled it tighter around you. For a moment, a flicker of something unfamiliar twisted in your chest. This small gesture could’ve been softness, kindness. But, in the short amount of time you’d known Joel, you could whatever compelled him to do it was more complicated. Guilt, maybe. Responsibility. 

Your eyes moved across the dirt, to where he sat when you saw him last before drifting off to sleep. The spot was empty. 

You sat up, blinking the sleep from your eyes, and found him by the stream a few yards away. He was flexing his injured hand under the cool rush of water, knuckles cracked and raw from his fight with the guard.

You moved quietly, grabbing the small first aid kit from your pack and walking over. He didn’t react as you sat beside him, the early morning air still and thick between you two. Silently, you held a hand out.

Joel hesitated, gaze flickering between your face and outstretched palm. Then, slowly, he placed his hand in yours.

The contrast struck him immediately. His skin was rough, calloused, lined with age and hardship – completely different from the softness of your own fingers.

He didn’t flinch when you brushed over the bruising, but you felt the tension in his muscles, the way his fingers curled involuntarily at your touch.

"Does it hurt?" You asked, voice barely above a whisper so as not to disturb the fragile quiet of the dawn.

He shook his head, dismissive. But when you applied a bit of pressure, his jaw tightened, a slight flinch betraying him. 

Without reacting—he was sure you were doing it for his sake—you applied some ointment on his wounds before wrapping them in gauze, gently trying to avoid the sensitive area.

When you were done, you pulled out a small bottle of anti-inflammatories, shaking two pills into your palm. He stared at them, then took only one, swallowing it dry. 

You let him have that without argument. If this was his way of keeping control over something, you’d let him have it.

By the time you both returned to camp, Ellie was awake, sitting up against a tree. The moment you saw her, you made a beeline, kneeling to wrap your arms around her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"Hey, you sleep okay?" you asked, brushing the hair out of her face.

She nodded, but when she turned to Joel, her expression was tense. "Look, I've been thinking about – "

Joel cut her off. "I don't want your sorries."

"I wasn't gonna say sorry," Ellie snapped back, her voice unwavering. "I was gonna say I've been thinking about what happened. Nobody made you or Tess take us. Nobody made you go along with this plan – "

"Ellie," you warned softly, shaking your head. Now wasn't the time for this.

"No,” she insisted, “he made a choice. He doesn't get to blame us for something that isn't our fault." 

Joel waited, looking to see if you would talk her down. But, you didn't. Instead, you turned to him then, waiting. Would he deny it? Confirm? If you were him, you’d surely blame yourself – if you and Ellie hadn’t shown up, Tess would still be alive.

And even though Ellie was right—he did this of his own free will—you still felt guilty about it. Guilty about being the reason she was in the State House in the first place, guilty about ending whatever it was between them, guilty for playing a part in her death.

You looked up just in time to see Joel nod once at Ellie, quiet and sharp, coming to an agreement. 

And that was that. 

The five hour trek to Bill and Frank's was spent mostly with Ellie peppering you with questions to pass the time and fill the silence.

“What’s the first thing you’d do if the world wasn’t all fucked?” 

You thought for a second. “Disneyworld. I’d go to Disneyworld.” 

Ellie scrunched her nose. “What’s Disneyworld?” Even Joel’s head turned slightly at that. “What?”

You shook your head, feigning a sigh. “I’ve failed at raising you.” 

Ellie waved it off, moving on to her next question.

“What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a weapon?” Once, you’d killed an Infected with a broken spatula handle; that was something.

"Would you rather kiss an Infected or eat rat jerky?” 

To that, you truly had no answer.

When she ran out of questions for you, she turned to Joel.

“Have you gone this way a lot?” To which he’d shrugged and said sometimes.

“Are there any Infected we should be looking out for?” No.

“Are Bill and Frank nice?” Frank was.

"How'd you get that scar on your head?"

That caught your attention. You glanced at Joel as he sighed.

Ellie continued. "What? Is it something lame, like you fell down the stairs or something?" 

"Someone shot at me and missed." 

"See, that's cool. You shoot back?" 

"Yeah." 

"You get him?" 

"No, I missed, too." Ellie scoffed. "It happens more often than you think."

"Cause you suck at shooting, or like, in general?" 

You snorted a laugh, disguising it as a cough when Joel shot a look your way.

His expression remained flat as he answered, "In general."

Before she could think up another question, the three of you happened upon a gas station where Joel had mentioned he stashed some supplies for when he ran low.

Inside, you watched Joel look around for a minute, eyes unsure.

“You forgot where you put your stuff,” you teased, watching his eyes scan the floor.

“No,” Joel argued. “I’m just zeroing in on it.” 

You nudged Ellie, mimicking his tone. “Zeroing in on it.”

When Joel finally unearthed his stash––and Ellie had wandered into the back to see if she could find anything good––you hopped atop the counter where the cash register sat and swung your feet.

As he dug through the dusty green duffel, you took a nosy glimpse inside and suddenly screeched in joy.“Are those tampons?!” You asked, hopping off the counter and reaching your greedy fingers out. Joel handed the blue box over, giving you a look. “What?” 

“Nothin’. Just don’t think I’ve ever seen someone get so excited about feminine hygiene.” 

“Yeah, you try living on pads as long as I have. It fucking sucks.” 

Joel cleared his throat. “Didn’t need to know that.”  

You quirked a brow. “Joel, when you bleed from your vagina for four days every month––get cramps, cravings for chocolate, and have to use the sandpaper they call ‘pads’ in the QZ––then you’ll get an opinion on this.” 

“Wonderful,” he huffed under his breath, going back to rummaging through the duffle. 

You stuffed the box of tampons in your pack before hopping back onto the countertop, eyes wandering around the store which was mostly picked over. As your brain wandered through different thoughts, you let out a scoff, the sound of your own amusement surprising you.

Joel glanced up at you. “Sorry,” you apologized, “It’s just – before everything, did you ever just go to the store just for one dumb thing? Like, you realize you’re out of milk, so you drive to the store, hand over a couple bucks, and that was it. No ration cards, no guards, no ‘hope no one stabs me on the way home.’ Just… milk.” 

Joel didn’t answer right away. His brow furrowed slightly as if he was sorting through distant memories. Finally, he nodded. “Yeah. Used to do it all the time.” 

Something about the way he said it––low, almost reluctant––made your chest tighten. The normalcy of that past life was such a foreign thing now.

You hesitated before speaking again, fingers tracing the dust on the counter. “One of the only memories I have from before the outbreak happened in a gas station. My mom and I were going on a road trip. She stopped somewhere to fill up the gas, and I – ” You let out a soft laugh. “I had been in the car for so long, I just took off running up and down the aisles of this convenience store on the side of the road with my mom chasing me. It made the attendant laugh so hard, he let me pick out a lollipop for free.” 

You glanced at Joel, his gaze heavy on you. It made your stomach twist – he wasn’t just listening, he was seeing you, maybe for the first time. 

You cleared your throat, shifting under the weight of his gaze. “You ever take a kid shopping?” 

It was meant to be a throwaway question, something to deflect from the sudden intimacy of the moment. But Joel immediately stiffened at it. His jaw ticked as he turned back to his pack, shoving supplies into it with a little too much force.

Oh.

The realization settled uncomfortably in your chest. You hadn’t really thought about it before, but now… Maybe Joel hadn’t always been alone. Maybe there had been someone else, before the outbreak – a kid.

The air felt heavier between you.

“You don’t have to answer that,” you finally said, softly. “I just – I think this is the first time in a long time I’ve had a real conversation with someone who isn’t Ellie.” 

After a pause, Joel asked, “And… verdict?”

Half-smiling, you answered, “I’ve had worse conversation and worse company.”

Joel didn’t respond, but something in his expression shifted just slightly, like he understood the sentiment. He didn’t mind your company either. And when it came to conversation – Hell, he couldn’t even remember the last time he and Tess had even had a real one, one that wasn’t about survival.

You could feel the moment lingering between the two of you until Ellie returned to the front room. 

When Joel was done restocking, you three were on the move again. The road to central Massachusetts stretched empty ahead, nothing but cracked asphalt and the occasional rusted car. Woods and fields flanked both sides. Then, up ahead, the landscape changed.

A plane crash. 

The wreckage was half-buried in the dirt, its charred remains a stark reminder of the chaos that had unfolded in those first days. Your stomach twisted at the sight.

“Jesus,” you muttered under your breath.

Ellie turned to Joel, eyes wide, seemingly unaffected by the gore of it. You didn’t know how she did that, or who she got it from – it certainly wasn’t you. “You ever fly in one of those?” 

“A few times.” 

“Lucky,” she grumbled. 

You looked at him, trying to distract yourself from the sight before you. “What was it like?”

“Sure as hell didn’t feel lucky. Got shoved into a middle seat, paid twelve bucks for a sandwich.” 

Ellie scoffed. “Dude, you got to go up in the sky!”

He just shrugged, glancing back at the wreckage. “Yeah, well, so did they.” Grim.

Silence fell as you kept walking. Ellie wandered ahead, kicking at a stray rock, leaving you and Joel a few paces behind. After a moment, he glanced over. “What about you?” 

“What about me?” 

“You ever go on a plane?” You shook your head. “Shame.”

You huffed a small laugh. “What happened to ‘shoved into a middle seat and overpaid for a sandwich’?” 

He shrugged. “Still… think you would’a liked it.”

Something about that––him saying that––made your chest warm.

“When you went – did you see stars? Was it at night?” 

Joel shook his head. “Didn’t get a chance to look out the window.” 

You whistled lowly. “I would’ve saved the twelve bucks you spent on that sandwich and upgraded to a window seat.” 

That actually made him breathe out a single laugh. A real one. And you… you liked the sound of it. It was rare, something buried beneath all that gruffness and exhaustion. He looked like he could use more of them.

But then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the frown was back. Joel scanned the surroundings, posture tightening. He called Ellie back. “We’ll cut across the woods here.”

Your brows furrowed. “Why wouldn’t we just keep going straight? Didn’t you say this road would basically take us most of the way there?” 

“Yeah, it’s just – there’s stuff up there neither of you should see.” 

Something about the way he said it made your skin prickle. The weight in his voice, the way his shoulders tensed.

Ellie, of course, saw it as a challenge. “Well, now I have to see.” 

“I don’t want you to,” Joel replied, voice firm.

“Ellie, you heard him,” you supported, watching the girl begin to make her way down the road. “Seriously, Ellie!” 

She turned, walking backwards. “Can it hurt me?” She asked Joel.

The moment “No” slipped past his lips, you whipped a hand up to cover his mouth, trying to stop it. He should’ve lied – it would’ve at least been more convincing at getting Ellie to follow him through the woods. You sighed, having heard his answer before turning to Ellie.

Ellie smirked. “You’re too honest, man.” She nudged her head toward you. “Gotta learn from the best.”

“It’s okay,” you tried reassuring him. “She’s a tricky one. There’s a learning curve to parenting her.” 

“I wasn’t trying to – ”

He stopped himself when he saw Ellie sharply stop at the edge of the road, eyes staring down into the valley ahead.

Your stomach dropped at the look on her face.

“What is it?” You asked, brows furrowed in worry as you rushed up to her. You gasped at what she was staring at – a mass grave. Hundreds of skeletons lay tangled together, bones bleached by the sun, scattered across the valley like discarded remains of remnants past. The sight made your breath hitch, nausea curling deep in your gut.

You turned to Joel, needing an explanation.

With a soft sigh, he said, “About a week after Outbreak Day, soldiers went through the countryside evacuating the smalltowns. Told you you were goin’ to a QZ, and you were… if there was room. If there wasn’t…” 

Your stomach twisted violently. The world blurred for a moment as you stepped back, to the other side of the road, before doubling over and emptying the meager contents of your stomach onto the grass.

A warm, calloused hand smoothed over your back, steadying you. Joel.

He didn’t say anything, just kept rubbing slow, grounding circles up and down your back.

For a man who rarely offered comfort, who kept his distance from anything too close, too raw… it meant something.

Only, you were a bit preoccupied to realize it at the time.

Bill’s town was like something out of a doomsday prepper’s handbook – a high voltage fence surrounding the entire thing, surveillance cameras everywhere, and an eerie silence blanketed over the desolate town.

Joel punched a code into the keypad beside the fence, and the click of the lock sounded before he pushed the gate open and let you and Ellie inside the town.

The houses were vacant, but they felt occupied, as if the people who lived here had just stepped out. Bill’s place, though, stood out. It was a fortress, marked by a slightly overgrown lawn and potted flowers lining the walk up to the porch.

Looking back, you think you knew it before you ever even entered the house. The flowers on the porch had wilted – the first sign.

Inside the foyer, the silence was thick. You tucked Ellie near your side as you stayed behind Joel, eyes gazing over the house. 

“Bill,” Joel’s voice broke the silence, waiting to hear a reply. “Frank?” 

No response.

Stepping further in the house, Ellie found an envelope and a key sat by the piano in the dining room. Addressed ‘To whomever, but probably Joel.’

She opened up the note inside, stating, “It’s from Bill.” She quickly read it to herself in silence.

Joel sighed, probably knowing what was coming, and shrugged his backpack off, grasping the key.

He glanced down the hall, at the bedroom on the far right.

“So they’re dead?” he asked.

Ellie nodded, gently humming in affirmation. 

Joel paced slowly around the room, the weight of the loss pressing down on him. Another friend––another two friends––lost in the span of a few days.

Your heart ached for him, but you didn’t know what to say. What could you say that would make this any better? 

“What does the note say?” you softly asked Ellie.

“August 29, 2023. If you find this, please do not come into the bedroom. We left a window open so the house wouldn’t smell. But it will probably be a sight. I’m guessing you found this, Joel, because anyone else would’ve been electrocuted or blown up by one of my traps. Hehehehe. Take anything you need. The bunker code is the same as the gate code, but in reverse. 

“Anyway, I never liked you, but still, it’s like we’re friends… almost. And I respect you. So, I’m gonna tell you something because you’re probably the only person who will understand.

“I used to hate the world, and I was happy when everyone died. But I was wrong because there was one person worth saving…”

Without meaning to, your gaze drifted toward Joel. His eyes had found Ellie, then slowly turned to you. That soft, warm brown met yours, something flickering in it. It was the same look he’d given you back at the gas station – but now, you were giving it back.

You were finally seeing him, too.

You were starting to understand exactly what kind of person Joel Miller was, and you weren’t shying away from it. Instead, you held his gaze, trying to offer him what comfort you could as Ellie continued to read in her oblivious innocence. 

“That’s what I did. I saved him, then I protected him. That’s why men like you and me are here. We have a job to do. And God help any motherfuckers who stand in our way.”

The corners of your lips quirked up into a small, almost imperceptible smile. Yeah, you were beginning to understand Joel more than you would admit aloud.

“I leave you all of my weapons and equipment. Use them to keep – “

The moment her voice caught, both you and Joel turned to look at her. The tension in the room shifted. And, just like that, Joel was moving, snatching the letter from Ellie’s hand in a single, swift motion. He finished the sentence.

“Stay here,” he ordered, his voice low and hard. Without waiting for a response, he stormed out of the house.

You looked at Ellie, who explained, “It said ‘use them to keep Tess safe.’”

You closed your eyes and let out a deep sigh before following him out the door. You found him in the garage, making a car battery. 

The noise of the tools around him was the only sound in the room, filling the space with a mechanical rhythm that felt out of place amidst the tension. You stepped closer, but he barely spared you a glance.

Softly, you began, “You know, I had someone once too.” 

Without looking up from the wire he was tightening, he coldly replied, “That so?”

Every cell in your body told you to leave him alone, but the look he’d given you back in the dining room while Ellie was reading the letter – you couldn’t let it go.

“Yeah. We were in the QZ together. Didn’t have much, but we made it work. Looked out for each other, kept each other safe – he kept Ellie safe.” A lump lodged itself into your throat and you forced it down before continuing, “He used to say it was enough… that even in a world like this, it was enough.” 

Joel finally looked up, his expression unreadable. He didn’t ask but there was something in his eyes that told you he understood exactly what you meant.

“I wish it had been,” you said, voice barely above a whisper before you cleared your throat.

Joel’s jaw tightened and he turned back to the battery, working faster now, as if trying to outrun the conversation. “What’s your point?” He asked gruffly, clearly irritated now.

“That you’re not the only one who had someone worth saving… that you’re not the only one who knows what it’s like to lose them.” 

You’d meant it as a comfort – that he didn’t have to do this alone. Instead, he took it as a criticism – you’re not the only one who's lost someone so get over it.

“At least I’m doing something with my loss,” he snapped, hands gripping the worktable.

Your head dropped, understanding what he was saying between the lines. He’d lost Tess and he was shifting that energy to do something about it – to build this car battery and finally get to his brother. 

You, on the other hand, were wallowing in your misery. Letting it be a part of you but never harnessing it for anything. Your grief was useless.

“Right,” you said finally, accepting his chastisement. Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked out of the garage, back into the house. You sat with Ellie, who could tell something was wrong, until Joel came back inside – he made a point to look mainly at Ellie.

“I just finished making a truck battery. It’s charging right now.” 

“Okay,” Ellie said.

“I have a brother, out in Wyoming. He’s in some kinda trouble and I’m heading out there to find him. He used to be a Firefly. And my guess is, he knows where some of ‘em are out there. Maybe they can get you to wherever this lab is.”

“Alright… uh – listen… about Tess – “ 

Joel held a hand up, cutting her off. His voice was hard, distant. “If I’m takin’ you with me, there’s some rules you gotta follow. Rule one: you don’t bring up Tess. Ever.” He glanced back at you before continuing, “Matter of fact, we can just keep our histories to ourselves.” 

You bit your lip, trying to process what he was saying. The distance between you stretched, maybe further than it ever had before, and it made your stomach twist.

“Rule two: you don’t tell anyone about your… condition. They see that bite mark, they won’t think it through. They’ll just shoot you.” Ellie nodded. “Rule three: you do what I say when I say it. We clear?” 

“Yes.” 

“Repeat it.” 

“She gets it,” you growled, stepping up to Ellie and crossing your arms over your chest, clearly not able to let the moment go. “What you say goes.” 

Joel let out a deep sigh, accepting it. “Okay. Let’s go grab what we can. Anything useful.” 

The house was full of supplies you three stuffed into your packs – food, clothes, even toilet paper.

After you were done, and had found the wonderful shock that the house had hot water, you raced Ellie to the bathroom, eventually letting her win and shower first.

When it was your turn, you stood under the warm spray, letting it soothe your muscles, your mind. Here, in the confines of the bathtub, you didn’t have to worry about Ellie, didn’t have to think ten moves ahead or keep an eye out for danger. 

Here, you could just be. 

Thirty minutes later, the water had washed away the exhaustion and you felt lighter, refreshed.

You stepped out of the bathroom––the soft warmth of the towel wrapped around you, wet hair dripping onto the wooden floor––and froze when you saw Joel standing there.

You met his gaze, not wanting to let him see how much he had rattled you. “What?”

He hesitated then shook his head. “Nothin’. You done with the shower?”

You nodded and slipped past him without another word, your pulse quickening.

After you dressed, you found yourself wandering through the house, until you ended up in what you guessed was Frank’s art studio. There was a half-finished portrait of Bill on the easel. In fact, there were pictures of Bill everywhere – it was clear Frank had poured everything into those canvases. You could tell how much he loved him.

You felt a lump form in your throat as you traced your fingers over the easels, the paints, the brushes. You knew it sounded silly but you could feel Frank in the room.

A person you’d never met but you immediately knew you’d like, based on this room alone. You stepped in front of a pot of lilies you assumed he was going to use for the painting of Bill, and plucked one by the stem, staring at it. 

You rummaged through your pack until you opened up your journal, softly pressing the flower between the pages. 

It was small but it would remind you of this place. Of the people who lived here and the love they shared. Of the love you once shared, in the confines of your cramped apartment in the QZ, with your blonde-haired sweet boy.

The creak of a floorboard behind you had you snapping your head back, caught off guard. Joel stood in the doorway, freshly showered, eyes locked on the tears you hadn’t realized were falling. 

“They’re not for you,” you said, your voice tight, though you wiped them away quickly, embarrassed.

Joel said nothing for a long beat. Then, he motioned to the flower you’d pressed. “Ain’t much use in keepin’ dead things.” 

You swallowed hard, the ache in your chest growing. You looked at the flower, the petals delicate on the page. “Not everything has to have a use. You can just appreciate things because they’re beautiful.” 

The silence between you thickened, and Joel didn’t take the moment to apologize for earlier. You hadn’t expected him to. Still, for some reason, it stung more than it should’ve.

Finally, he said, “The battery’s charged. You ready to go?” 

You nodded, your words caught in your throat, and walked past him, out the door, into the cold, open world once again.

Ellie was already sitting in the back, mesmerized by the newness of being inside a car. 

“It’s like a spaceship,” she dreamily said.

You turned to look at her as Joel settled into the driver’s seat. “Put your seatbelt on, love.” She turned to look at you, clueless.

It made you smile, reaching back to buckle her seatbelt for her before pressing a loving kiss to her cheek and returning to your seat.

As Joel began driving out of the neighborhood, your eyes caught sight of a blue tote bag by your feet. 

“Packed it for you,” Joel merely said, watching you open the bag from his periphery.

Inside were a stack of books, with the second installment of the Lord of the Rings trilogy neatly placed on top. You couldn’t believe that he’d remembered you telling him you were reading the first book back at his apartment, before you’d ever left for the State House.

You placed the second book onto your lap, fingers grazing the spine.

“It’s a long drive,” he added. I got you something so you wouldn’t get bored, was what was left unsaid. But it didn’t need to be said aloud. You heard it loud and clear, in the silence.

It wasn’t a big gesture but it did enough. You found the sting in your heart lessening.

This wasn’t an apology, and you opening it up to page one to begin reading, wasn’t an acceptance. But it was a middle ground, and that was something.

.

.

.

taglist: @orcasoul @lizlil@littleshadow17 @joeldjarin @mrsyixingunicorn10 @luvwanda @escaping-reality8 @hoddystark @mmkkzz

[joelswritingmistress]

Neighbors With Benefits Masterlist (Joel Miller x f!reader)

Part of the #hotdilfsummerchallenge but I might keep going with it into September if I'm feeling DiLFY 😆 @hellishjoel

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings: DiLFY smut, age gap (23 & 42), unprotected sex

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

PART 4

PART 5

PART 6

PART 7

PART 8

PART 9

PART 10

PART 11

PART 12

PART 13

PART 14

PART 15

[talaok]

Okay so I’m thinking Pedro x Actress!reader where another famous guy/actor says in an interview that he has a crush on us which makes Pedro a bit jealous and then we all end up at the same event - maybe Pedro gets abit angsty with him but he’s super loving and affectionate toward us…

warnings: jelousy

a/n: it goes without saying that i apologize for the wait babe, i really loved this request 

It wasn't that he hated him, it was just that if anything were to happen to him he wouldn't be the one to cry, that's all...

and maybe he'd thought about punching that smug look off his face once... or twice... or every time the thought of him came up.

But it still wasn't hate

Hate is a strong word, and Pedro wasn't not one to throw it around easily, he was all for peace and love and everything but this guy... this guy was really pushing the limits

And what the actual fuck was he even doing here tonight?

"You're staring"

Your soft, amused voice pulled him out of his own thoughts, his eyes sliding to you

"I just don't get why he's here"

You stifled a laugh as you answered "The same reason why we are baby"

"he's not even nominated" he grumbled,

"neither am I" You smiled, placing your hand on his cheek, feeling his soft scruff graze your palm "It's not a big deal babe, he probably said my name just because it was the first one that popped into his mind" you shook your head "I bet it's not even true"

Yeah right

He would have believed that if you were anybody else, but you... fuck- it didn't take him even a second to fall in love and you expected him to believe that that guy didn't have a crush on you? He would have sooner begun believing that Mark Zuckerberg was one of those lizard guys.

You were everything anyone could have ever dreamed of, you were funny, so incredibly smart it made him feel like a fifth grader in comparison, and god you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen 

he knew what you did to men, he knew what you did to men because that's exactly what you did to him,

and he didn't even mind that much, he'd never been the jealous type, but the problem with Shawn wasn't that he liked you (because he clearly did), but it was that he had the audacity, the smugness to fucking say it out loud, to admit it in front of a camera for anyone to see, like the woman he was talking about didn't have a husband, like he wasn't her fucking husband.

"I saw him look at you before"

This time, you did let out a little snort

"what, how dares he?" you mocked him, laughing again as his face remained completely unamused "It's your big night babe, don't let this silly little thing ruin it, please"

But just then, just when he was finally starting to let go a little, the focus of all of his loathing appeared beside you

"I'm sorry to interrupt-"

Then fucking don't

"I just wanted to introduce myself" 

Shawn's eyes were only on you, as if he didn't even exist, as if your hands hadn't been on his cheeks but a moment prior

"I'm Shawn," he said, offering his hand to you "I'm... well, I'm a really big fan" he ended with a soft laugh, smiling in that charming way that surely made women all woozy

"Hi Shawn, it's a pleasure to meet you-"

As you shook his hand, Pedro was closing his into fists

This fucking guy-

"Hi pal"

Pedro's voice didn't sound even a little bit not completely pissed off

"I'm Pedro," he said "her husband"

The flicker of amusement that sparked behind his eyes made Pedro seriously ponder whether or not a little punch was that bad of an idea

"Oh, I didn't know you were married"

Andrew's eyes were back to you, and god it was taking all of Pedro not to grab him and throw him to the other side of the room

Just the fact that he was looking your way seemed too much, 

How dare he look at you, at his beautiful wife, at the love of his life?

It felt wrong, it was wrong, and it was making him furious

"I'm sure you didn't" Pedro grunted, taking a slow step closer to him "Shawn right?" he asked, even though he knew much too well who he was "What exactly are you doing here?" Pedro's eyes narrowed, his head tilting "I didn't notice your name in any of the nominations"

"baby" your soft warning was met with a soft smile from him, one that faded into a stoic/murderous gaze as soon as your husband's eyes were back on the man before him

"I'm just asking a question sweetheart, that's all"

Shawn seemed to accept Pedro's challenge in the blink of an eye

"I'm here with a friend, he's the one that got the nom"

Pedro nodded slowly, "ah. Right," he said, his hand going to your back and drawing gentle circles on it

He didn't miss the way Shawn followed the movement

"And why exactly are you talking to my wife Shawn?"

Now that, that seemed to take him aback a little, but he recovered quickly

"What?" he laughed "is no one allowed to talk to your wife without your permission or something?"

"Oh absolutely not, my wife can talk to whomever she wishes," Pedro spoke "I'm just not very fond of her talking to men that have openly admitted to liking her" he shrugged as if his eyes and voice weren't yelling murder 

You, in the meantime, were busy looking for the fastest way out of this place

"You've seen the video," Shawn said more like a statement

"I sure did" Your husband nodded "I especially liked the part where you described her as your "dream woman""

Shawn sighed loudly, shaking his head

"listen, man-"

"No, you listen, man" Pedro interrupted him "How 'bout you get the fuck away from me and my wife, mh?" he said more like a threat "How bout that?"

Shawn let out a loud breath before responding

"whatever man" he sighed, his eyes moving to you "It was nice to meet you y/n, maybe we can meet another time..." he glanced to the man on your right "when the guard dog isn't around"

"yeah" Pedro scoffed "Go fuck yourself, buddy"

You both stared at his back as he walked away, but after no more than two seconds, you couldn't help but let your lips pull into the smile you'd been holding this whole time

"that was a bit harsh"

Pedro only grinned as he brought you flash against him with his hands on your waist

"Like you haven't done worse" he smirked

Yeah... while Pedro wasn't usually jealous, you were... let's just say you were not exactly on the same wavelength

"you looked ready to kill him" you chuckled, wrapping your arms behind his neck

"mh" he hummed, ghosting your mouth "Who says I wasn't" he teased, his lips crashing with yours in a long, deep kiss that Pedro absolutely didn't wish for Shawn to be witnessing

[fallenbratfiction]

birthday gift

A/N: Me? No I don’t have to study why do you say that? Shut up and enjoy! Happy birthday pedro pascal, you handsome puta. I know this is two days later but a girl's been working hard day and night.

my masterlist faq

warnings: oral sex (m! receiver detailed), oral sex (f! receiver implied), sex toy use ( remote control vibe), shower sex, birthday gift kinky, soft aftercare, fluff, swearing

minors dni with this post or my blog. you are responsible for what you consume.

do not copy, translate or claim this story as your own.

The clatter of something in the kitchen awoke Pedro. His brows furrowed as he stirred, pushing the sheets aside. The other half of the bed was empty.

“Shit!” you cursed from the kitchen. 

He blinked sleepily, the warm comfort of sleep still lingering, but curiosity got the best of him. Swinging his legs over the edge, he padded barefoot toward the source of the noise.

As he entered the kitchen, the sight before him made him smile—your back was to him, your hair tousled from sleep, wearing nothing but one of his shirts, which barely covered the curve of your thighs. The counter was a mess of flour and sugar, and a small, lopsided cake sat cooling in front of you.

From the corner of your eye, you caught sight of him.

“No! You’re not supposed to see this!” You spun around, arms outstretched as if you could physically block his view. “Go back to bed! Shoo!”

Pedro chuckled, amused by your attempt to usher him away. He barely had time to react before you were pushing him by the shoulders, backing him out of the kitchen.

"Go!" You demanded, standing in the doorway with flour on your cheek and determination in your eyes.

He held his hands up in surrender, still grinning. "Alright, alright," he conceded, retreating to bed, though the muffled sounds of your chaos kept him thoroughly entertained.

Sometime later, you reappeared, carrying a tray with a steaming cup of coffee and a small cake, now adorned with a few colorful candles. The shirt—his shirt—hung loosely over your frame, brushing just above your thighs.

Pedro propped himself up against the headboard, watching you with soft, fond eyes as you set the tray on his lap and perched beside him.

“Que los cumplas Pedrito, que los cumplas feliz,” you sang softly, your voice warm with affection.

His smile deepened as he blew out the candles, eyes flicking up to meet yours.

“Did you make a wish?” you asked.

“Oh, I surely did,” he murmured, setting the tray aside. His voice had dipped lower, rougher, a hint of something mischievous curling at the edges. “And I can’t believe how fast they come true.”

Before you could react, he was shifting forward, pressing you back into the mattress. His lips met yours in a slow, lingering kiss, the kind that sent warmth curling through your stomach. His hands, warm and eager, slipped beneath the hem of the shirt, fingertips skimming along your bare thighs.

A soft gasp left your lips as he deepened the kiss, his weight pressing deliciously into you.

"Is it alright if I get my gift now?" he whispered against your skin, lips brushing the sensitive spot just below your ear. A shiver ran down your spine as his mouth trailed lower, his warm breath sending goosebumps across your skin.

You smiled, fingers threading through his hair, giving a soft tug. "Mmm," you hummed, nodding.

But instead of letting him take control, you pushed him back, making him land against the pillows with a surprised chuckle. His hands settled on your waist as you straddled him, tilting your head in amusement.

"Impatient, aren’t you?" he teased, eyes dark with anticipation.

"You have no idea," you murmured, leaning down to kiss along his jaw, then lower, your lips and tongue tracing a slow, teasing path down his chest.

His breath hitched as you reached the waistband of his briefs, your fingers slipping beneath the fabric, nails dragging lightly against his skin. He watched your every movement, pupils blown wide with want.

You smirked, loving the way his eyes locked onto you—dark, ravenous, desperate. A deep groan slipped from his throat as your tongue flicked over his tip, slow and deliberate.

“Keep going, baby. Don’t you fucking stop,” he growled, fingers tangling in your hair as he held you in place.

You moaned around him, the vibration making him twitch. Your lips moved lower, suckling on his balls while your hand stroked his length—slick, firm, merciless. You played with his rhythm, building him up just to bring him back down, watching him squirm.

“Shit—now that’s just cruel,” he panted. “I thought this was supposed to be a birthday gift.” You glanced up at him, lips glistening, breath hot. “Oh, it is,” you whispered, stroking him slower. “But I like watching you beg first.” “Fuck… you’re killing me,” he groaned, hips bucking as you took him back into your mouth, eager to finish what you started.

You smiled wickedly, then sank down, taking all of him into your mouth. The weight of him made your throat tighten, a soft gag escaping as you adjusted, the stretch making your eyes flutter. But once you settled, you began to move—slow, deep pulls that had him cursing under his breath.

You hollowed your cheeks, tongue working him skillfully, greedily, until you felt the telltale twitch and the way his thighs tensed beneath your hands. He was close—so fucking close—and you weren't planning on letting up.

You didn’t stop—not when he moaned your name, not when his grip tightened in your hair, not even when his hips began to twitch with every desperate thrust into your mouth. You wanted all of it—his sounds, his surrender, the way he unraveled just for you.

“Fuck, baby—shit, I’m gonna—” he warned, voice ragged, chest heaving.

You moaned around him, taking him deeper, your hand wrapping around the base to match your rhythm, coaxing every ounce of tension from his body. He cursed loudly as he spilled into your mouth, his whole body jerking, muscles tight and breath stuttering.

Your tongue eagerly lapped up every drop, slurping up all he had to give—messy, hungry, insatiable.

You swallowed without breaking eye contact, slow and deliberate, licking your lips as you pulled back. “Happy birthday,” you whispered, voice low and smug, wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb. He looked utterly wrecked—chest still rising and falling, eyes glassy. “Holy fuck,” he muttered. “Best. Gift. Ever.”

He couldn’t stop cumming—wave after wave spilling into your mouth, his body trembling with each pulse. When he was finally spent, you let out a soft exhale and rested your head against his lower stomach, your breath warm on his skin. His fingers, still shaky, drifted into your hair, stroking gently.

“You okay, baby?” he asked, voice rough, eyes half-lidded with bliss.

“Mmmhmm,” you hummed, eyes closed. “Just woke up super early to make the cake…”

He chuckled, still catching his breath. “You’re unreal.”

“Come here,” he murmured, tugging you up gently until you were lying against his chest. He kissed your temple, thumb tracing lazy circles along your back.

You nuzzled into him, feeling the rise and fall of his chest, the scent of sweat and sex still lingering between you.

You stayed curled against him for a while, the air still thick with heat, both of you quiet, catching your breath. His fingers drifted through your hair gently, grounding you.

After a few minutes, he spoke, voice low. “So… what else is planned for today?”

You hummed, stretching a little. “Mm. A surprise or two. Dinner with your friends and Lux later. And a real gift.”

“Oh?” He tilted his head. “More real than what just happened?”

You grinned. “Different kind of real.”

Without warning, he shifted, strong arms wrapping around you as he pulled you into his lap. You gasped softly, laughing, your legs straddling him again.

He looked up at you with that boyish smile, hands resting on your hips. “You spoil me.”

“That’s the whole point.”

His thumbs rubbed slow circles against your skin. “Then let me take care of you for a second.”

He kissed you softly, hands never rushing, just holding you there—close, cherished. It wasn’t about getting worked up again (not yet). It was about savoring the moment. The calm after the storm, before the next wave.

_____________________

Later…

After a few minutes tangled in lazy kisses and slow breathing, he brushed his lips against your ear. “Come shower with me.”

You looked up, pretending to think. “Only if I get to use your fancy products.”

He grinned. “Deal.”

The water was already running by the time he led you into the bathroom, steam curling into the air like a tease. He stepped in first, pulling you gently under the spray with him. The warmth hit instantly, soothing and intimate. His hands slid over your back, slick with soap and affection.

You took the bottle of shampoo, lathering it into his hair, nails grazing his scalp in slow, massaging circles. He let out a low hum, eyes fluttering closed.

“God, that feels good.”

“Shh, I’m working,” you teased, fingers moving through his curls like you were sculpting something holy.

When it was your turn, he repaid the favor—only with less restraint. His hands roamed lower, over your shoulders, then down to your waist, slipping between your thighs while the water poured over both of you.

“Thought this was just a shower,” you murmured, biting your lip.

“It was. Now it’s a preview.”

You leaned back against the tile, letting him explore you under the cascade, bodies slipping and pressing, heat building again despite the water washing everything else away. But just as things were about to tip over, he pulled back, breathing heavily.

“We should save the rest for after dinner,” he said, smug.

You blinked at him, half-wrecked. “Teasing me on your birthday?”

He kissed you softly. “Appetizer, remember?”

________________________

 You shared the shower, laughter and steam swirling as bodies slid together, skin still hungry but slower now. Gentle touches. Teasing tongues. The scent of his cologne and your body wash mixing like something sacred.

When you finally left the apartment, he looked flushed and glowing, hair damp, shirt half-wrinkle, but so happy.

Dinner with friends was lively—lots of toasts, jokes, hands slipping under the table again when no one was looking. He kept stealing glances at you like he couldn’t believe you were real.

_________________________

Back home, the city is quiet outside your window and the night stretches before you like a secret.

“You still up for your gift?” you asked, slipping your shoes off, your voice sweet and slow.

He turned to you, smiling lazily. “Always.”

He settled on the couch, loosening his shirt collar, totally relaxed—but his eyes lit up when you walked over with a black velvet box in your hands.

“This is for you,” you said, voice soft but teasing. You placed it in his hands, then sat on the armrest beside him, your fingers brushing his shoulder.

He opened the box slowly… and paused. Blinked.

Inside, nestled against the velvet, was a small, sleek remote.

He swallowed hard, already tensing under your touch. “You’re serious?”

You smiled innocently, kissing just under his jaw. “Oh, very.”

He picked up the remote like it was sacred. “Can I…?”

Before he even finished the question, a soft hum pulsed between your legs—and your breath hitched, hips shifting instinctively. His jaw dropped just slightly, delighted.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered.

You gave him that look. “I wore your gift to dinner. You just didn’t notice.”

He clicked it again, watching the way your thighs twitched, your breath going shallow.

“You’re evil.”

“And you’re the one in control now,” you murmured, sliding off the armrest and onto his lap, the thin fabric of your dress bunching around your hips. “So go on, baby. Play with your present.”

The remote pulsed again in his hand, and your whole body responded—hips twitching, breath catching as the vibration hit just right.

“Fuck,” he muttered, watching your face, eyes hooded and lips parted. ““You’re gonna be the death of me.””

You let your hands rest on his chest, riding the rhythm he gave you—deep, slow pulses followed by sharp little bursts that had your thighs clenching. He was obsessed—watching how the tiniest change in setting made you melt.

“Still think your gift was just a toy?” you whispered, lips grazing his.

He shook his head, mesmerized. “No. My gift is you.”

And then he finally pulled you close, lifted you, and carried you to the bedroom like you weighed nothing—like he needed you right now, no more teasing.

Clothes were torn off, skin hot and desperate, the toy forgotten on the nightstand as he replaced it with his mouth, his hands, his everything.

Later, when you were sprawled out across his chest, the toy buzzing softly somewhere in the sheets, he kissed your forehead, then stared into your eyes—his gaze full of love and desire.

“This is the best birthday I’ve ever had.” He whispered.

You smiled sleepily. “Just wait until next year.”

Thought of this before going to bed so I had to turn it into a story for his birthday! I hope you enjoyed reading!!

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