#pedro pascal hot

[lazysoulwriter]

not in the script - pedro pascal.

requested! thank you. ♡ content: NSFW — soft possessiveness, jealousy, praise kink, marking, unprotected sex, oral [f!receiving], handsy cuddling, overstimulation but in a cozy way, established relationship, pet names, aftercare, fluff woven through the spice | Pedro Pascal x Actress!Wife!Reader

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It all started with the trailer.

You'd warned Pedro. Briefly.

“There’s a kiss in it,” you’d said. “But it’s short.”

And to your credit — it was short.

But it didn’t feel short when he watched it. It felt like it lasted an eternity. It wasn’t even the kiss itself. It was your face. The way you leaned into it. The soft gasp. The tremble in your hands as they touched your co-star’s chest.

It was too convincing.

Too real.

He watched it again. Just once more.

Then he tossed his phone aside with a small scoff and leaned back on the couch, his jaw locked.

You padded into the room moments later, fresh from the shower, wrapped in a short robe, hair still damp.

“You okay, baby?”

“I’m fine.”

You raised a brow. “You’re pouting.”

“I’m not—” he started, but you were already crawling into his lap.

He let out a small grunt when your hips settled over his, robe parting slightly. His hands found your thighs, a reaction more than a decision.

“Pedro,” you said softly, “you know it was just acting.”

“I know.”

“It was like… six seconds.”

“Too many.”

You giggled. “Don’t be a baby.”

“I’m not,” he insisted, hands gripping your ass now, voice low and hot in your ear. “I just don’t like seeing my wife kiss someone like that and then moan.”

Your stomach flipped at his tone.

“You know what that sounded like?” he whispered, kissing the side of your jaw. “Sounded like the way you moan for me when I’ve got my tongue inside you.”

Heat bloomed between your legs instantly.

“Maybe you need a reminder,” you murmured, grinding your hips just enough to tease. “That it’s all for you.”

His fingers dug into your skin. “Take me to bed, right now.”

You didn’t even bother turning the lights on.

You let the soft natural glow pour into the bedroom from the sunset outside — skin bathed in gold, hair mussed, robe undone.

Pedro’s hands roamed everywhere. Slow. Certain.

“You look like a fucking goddess,” he whispered, kissing down your chest. “My beautiful, filthy wife.”

You whimpered as his tongue flicked across your nipple, then sucked. His hand trailed down your stomach, slipping between your legs like it belonged there.

Which it did.

He took his time.

Two fingers inside, curling exactly where you needed him. His thumb circled your clit in slow, deliberate strokes while his mouth stayed latched on your chest, switching sides, making you writhe under him.

Your head fell back against the pillows. “Pedro…”

“That’s it, baby. Let it out. But for methis time.”

Your orgasm hit like a wave, crashing through your body, thighs shaking as he whispered praises against your skin.

“Gorgeous. So fucking wet for me. No one else gets this, no one.”

You were still catching your breath when he moved above you, slipping between your thighs, his cock thick and hard, sliding through your folds.

“Let me inside, hermosa,” he groaned, voice rough. “Let me remind you who you belong to.”

When he pushed in, you both moaned.

He filled you so perfectly. Slow, deep thrusts that left you gasping, clinging to him as he buried his face in your neck, panting.

You clenched around him and he cursed. “Shit, baby. You’re gonna make me come—”

You flipped him before he could, straddling his hips with a wicked smile.

“I’ll decide when you get to come, esposo,” you whispered.

He groaned, head falling back as you rode him slow and steady, grinding deep, letting him feel every inch of you.

“You think anyone else gets to fuck me like this?” you purred. “You think anyone ever could?”

He shook his head desperately. “Never. Only me. Only me.”

You kissed him, biting his lip, still moving slow and teasing until you both hit that edge together — your moans messy, hands tangled, nails digging in, his name the only word you remembered.

When you collapsed on top of him, his arms instantly wrapped around you.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, still catching his breath. “And I’m so fucking lucky.”

You brushed sweaty curls from his forehead. “You’re also dramatic.”

He laughed, kissed your forehead, and held you tighter. “And you’re my wife. So you’re stuck with me.”

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

[bweeeb]

NOTHING BETTER THAN REVENGE

Summary: The reader wants to show Pedro that he is the only one begging to cum.

warnings: same as the others, Fucking LIKE RABBITS. Get out of here if you don't like smut.

requests are open, I write anything!!!

Pedro had been cocky again.

All day.

Making those smug little comments.

Walking around shirtless like he didn’t know exactly what that did to you.

Touching you all the time. And worse? Acting like he was the one in charge.

So now?

Now you were going to show him what real control looked like.

He was lying on the bed — wrists tied loosely to the headboard with silk. Not tight enough to hurt.

Just tight enough to remind him: you own him tonight.And the worst part?

You hadn’t even touched his cock yet.

Just your fingers grazing his thighs.

Your mouth at his ear.

Your hips grinding just out of reach.

He was already hard. Red. Leaking.

You looked down at him with a wicked grin, one brow raised.

— Hmm… you’re not listening very well, papí. —

He groaned, shifting beneath you, hips twitching up for any friction.

You rolled your eyes like he was pathetic.

— What did I say about being good?—

— Fuck, baby, I’m trying, please—

— I just wanna touch you—

You let out a sharp, cruel laugh and slapped his thigh — not hard, but firm enough to make him gasp.

Then you leaned in, your lips brushing his ear, voice like satin-wrapped steel:

— Seems like you’re not old enough to missbehave…—

Your hand cupped his cock briefly.Just enough to make him buck.— …your dick keeps getting up like it has no manners. —

He whined. Actually whined.

Tried to reach for your hips, but the second he tugged on the restraints, you pulled back and sat up straight, crossing your arms.

— Ah-ah-ah.—

Your voice went ice cold.

— You don’t get to touch me.—

Pedro growled under his breath, eyes dark and furious — but the way his cock twitched said something else entirely.

— This is what you get for thinking you could fuck me three times and walk around like I wouldn’t take that personally. Silly —

You reached between your legs and slowly lowered yourself onto him — just the tip — then stopped.

His body arched.

He was throbbing. Desperate. Cursing in Spanish.

You moaned softly, pretending to enjoy it all for yourself.

— Mmm… I missed this.—

— You fucked me the day before yesterday old man. —

— I never get tired of you —

— Too bad, because you’re not allowed to come.—

Pedro’s mouth dropped open in disbelief.

— Baby, no no no no, please, let me come, I swear I’ll behave, I’ll be so fucking good, just let me—

— Shhh.—

You started riding him slow, hips moving in long, torturous rolls, hands in your own hair, not even looking at him.

Like he was just… a toy.

A cock.

A punishment.

He was panting now.

Trembling.

His arms strained against the restraints, but he didn’t dare disobey again.You came first — of course.

Loud.

Proud.

Fucking magnificent.

You dragged it out. Rubbed your clit right there on him, moaning shamelessly.

Soaking him.

And then? You stopped. Just like that.

Pulled off him.

Untied his wrists.

Grabbed your robe.

And walked out.

— Where are you going?! —

he shouted behind you, voice ragged.You looked over your shoulder and smirked:

— If your dick can’t behave, papí… it doesn’t get to finish.

Later That Night…You came back hours later — quiet, casual, wearing nothing but a silk slip.

Pedro was still lying there, hard, wrecked, frustrated.

He tried using his own hand, but nothing compared after you had already squeezed him with your sweet, hot pussy.

You climbed into bed, pulled back the covers, and laid next to him like nothing happened.

Then you rolled over, pressed your lips to his ear, and whispered:

— Now you can come.—

He nearly cried. He grabbed your waist and shoved his hard, weeping cock into your hole, he fucked you hard from the side like a needy rabbit, right next to your ear he moaned loudly,

— I'm going to shove fucking babies in you, darling—

grunting you moaned, grabbed the hair on the back of his neck and felt him lick the skin of your neck. — Cum inside of me, Pedro. Fuck. I'm obsessed with your dick —

— Oh baby, that's it. Fuck. Take all my cum. —

He groaned as he buried himself deep into your womb and made you shake with another orgasm.

— I love you.—

He murmured and kissed you softly before you both passed out.

[moonlitsmile]

HOLY FART the grin bro js come here 💔 the arms too HELLOOOO

[potato-lord-but-not]

Holy Ghosts but it’s Dev Patel as Oscar and Pedro Pascal as Noel. Consider.

[xdarkrealityx]

Materialists isn't even out yet but I'm already in love. Harry Castillo is perfect. Look at him. I swear if she doesn't pick him I will riot.

[cherryst4rg1rl]

Me for real I love him so much

[aubiewabie33]

i love him more and more everyday🩷🩷

[lazysoulwriter]

the glasses - pedro pascal ── .✦

requested! thank you. content: explicit smut, established relationship, riding, slight dom/sub dynamics, pet names (mi amor, baby), he keeps the glasses on

He’s in the armchair, legs spread, laptop balanced on one thigh, wearing those glasses — the thin ones, with dark frames and just enough slouch to make him look like a hot professor who’s very close to losing his mind.

You watch him from the doorway.

Button-up half undone, sleeves rolled. Hair messy from running his fingers through it. Reading something on the screen with his lips parted and brow furrowed.

“You look like a wet dream,” you mutter, already walking over.

He looks up, smirking. “I thought you were in bed.”

You swing a leg over his lap and settle down, slowly, ass nestled into his thighs. His hands fly to your hips like muscle memory.

“I was waiting for you,” you murmur, kissing the corner of his mouth. “But then you started looking like that.”

He tilts his head. “Like what?”

“Like someone I need to ride.”

Pedro exhales hard through his nose. “Mi amor…”

You grind forward just enough to feel the shift in his breathing.

“I’m not even hard yet.”

“You’re getting there.”

And oh, he is.

Especially when you start kissing down his neck, undoing the rest of his buttons while he grips your waist like he’s trying to remember how to breathe.

“Keep the glasses on,” you whisper, eyes locked on his.

He licks his lips, cock twitching beneath you. “Yeah?”

“Mhm. Want you to see real clear who you're fucking, baby.”

He groans. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You drag his briefs down just enough. Line yourself up. Sink onto him slow — so slow, letting the stretch pull a moan from both your throats.

He’s panting now. Hands trembling on your thighs. His head falls back slightly and you see it — the lenses sliding down his nose, catching the light as he looks at you from under them, completely gone.

You roll your hips.

He gasps. “Fuck—just like that, baby.”

You kiss him messily. Keep riding him at that torturously slow pace, letting your body take what it wants while he watches every second.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he whispers. “Can’t think straight with you like this. Just wanna let you use me.”

You moan, squeezing around him. His fingers tighten.

“Feels so good, mi amor. So good. Fuck—look at you. Taking it so well.”

Your forehead touches his. His glasses are crooked now. His mouth is open. And when you grind down a little harder, he whimpers.

You smile.

“Still wanna work, professor?”

He groans. “You’re gonna make me come just like this.”

You nod, riding harder now. “Yeah, baby. Wanna feel it.”

It doesn’t take long. He lets go with a ragged moan, face buried in your neck, hands gripping you like he’s about to fall apart.

You follow right after — a sharp gasp and a shake, clinging to him as the tension breaks all at once.

Then, quiet. The sound of your breath slowing. His arms wrapped around you. Glasses still on.

He kisses your shoulder.

“…Next time,” he murmurs, still dazed, “I’m wearing the glasses to bed.”

You giggle, blissed out and barely coherent. “Can’t wait, slutty librarian.”

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

[bweeeb]

ROUNDS GAME

Summary: Pedro wants to show who's boss and so he fucks you in three different ways

Warnings: I told you, they fuck like rabbits, submissive reader, bossy Pedro.

requests are open, I write anything!!!

Shower 《 》 Revenge

It started that night. The second the lights went out and you curled up beside him, smug and satisfied, Pedro kissed your shoulder.

Softly.

Sweetly.

And then whispered in your ear:

— You think I forgot what you did in the shower?You didn’t even have time to answer.

The round 1 was Mouth-Fucking in the DarkBefore you could speak, he flipped you onto your back and straddled your chest, already hard again, eyes burning down at you in the dark.

— Open your mouth — he growled. You did and he slid his cock between your lips, no warning, no teasing.

— No hands. Just your throat.—

He fucked your mouth slow at first, then deeper, rougher, using your mouth like it belonged to him — because it did. Your lips were slick, spit dripping down your chin as he held your head in place, hips thrusting forward, groaning low.

— This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To make me lose control?— He shoved in deep. Your nose pressed to his skin and you moaned, eyes rolled back.

— That’s it, baby. Choke on it.— He didn’t stop until your throat was raw and your jaw ached — until you were gasping, lips swollen and ruined, and he pulled out, panting.

— That was just warm-up.—

The round 2 had your hands tied, legs open and an hour later — when you thought he’d fall asleep. Instead, he pulled a silk tie from his drawer, rolled you onto your stomach, and tied your hands behind your back again.

— Don’t make a sound — he warned.

He spread your legs, bent you over the edge of the bed, and slid inside you slow — painfully slow — stretching you, filling you, pulling out just to push back in deeper.

But the teasing didn’t last.

He fucked you hard, one hand gripping your hip, the other slapping your ass.

— Is this how you imagined me in the Vanity Fair video? — he snarled. — These hands ruining your pussy?— You couldn’t answer, not with how deep he was, how relentless.

He spanked you again. Again.

— Tell me.—

— Yes, Pedro — you cried out. — I imagined it. I imagined your fingers and your cock—

— Then take it, baby.—

He slammed into you until the bed shook, until you collapsed forward, legs trembling, body aching — and only then did he untie your wrists and pull you into his chest.

But he wasn’t done.

The round 3 involved a mirror. Chair. Breakdown.

The final round came just before sunrise.

He dragged the armchair from the corner in front of the mirror.

Sat down.

Then pulled you naked onto his lap, facing your reflection.— Look. Watch yourself. Que chica tan hermosa para mi, con mi polla profundamente dentro de ti, quieres que me corra dentro de ti amor?—

His cock slid inside you from below, thick and deep, his arms holding you in place.

— You want to be in control? Ride me. You tried — hips rolling slowly but he grabbed your throat with one hand and slammed up into you, hard enough to knock the air from your lungs.

— No. Let me. Let me show you what happens when you fuck me in the shower and leave me begging for your neddy pussy.— He used you.

He bounced you on his cock, dragging moans from your throat, fingers pressing into your jaw, your waist, your thighs — leaving marks you wouldn’t be able to hide.

— Look at you, princesa. Look what you become for me.— You watched yourself break, mouth open, sweat glistening, tears clinging to your lashes as he fucked you apart.

He made you come so hard your legs gave out.

Twice.

He didn’t stop until your body was limp in his arms and your voice was hoarse from moaning his name like a prayer.

And when he finally carried you to bed, tucking you into his chest, his voice was soft again.Almost sweet.

— Still wanna tease me, amor?—

You didn’t answer.You couldn’t.But your smile said everything.

[missyorkswhore]

pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pedro pe-

[bluetimeombre]

José Pedro Balmaceda ‘not always gentle,’ ‘big spoon,’ ‘I’m into submission,’ ‘I’m a pleaser,’ Pascal

[yourmomsawh0r3]

The grand life

Joel Miller x Wife!Reader

Warnings: 18+

Word count: 3,443 words 19,394 characters

Sunday mornings at the Miller house were sacred.

There were no alarms, no obligations just the smell of bacon popping in the skillet, the warm sun slanting through the blinds, and the sound of Joel’s heavy boots trudging into the kitchen like a grumpy bear.

You didn’t even look up from the pancake batter as he came in.

“Coffee’s fresh.”

Joel grunted, pouring himself a cup and leaning against the counter, watching you. “You make breakfast just to fatten me up?”

You turned with the whisk still in hand, raising a brow. “You’re the one who asked me yesterday if I’d make pancakes. You begged, if I recall.”

“Didn’t beg. I said I wouldn’t mind some pancakes.”

You smiled, flipping a piece of bacon. “You said, and I quote, ‘Baby, you know I can’t live without your pancakes, please make them, I’ll die otherwise.’”

Joel grumbled something under his breath and took a long sip of coffee, watching you move around the kitchen in one of his old T-shirts and sleep shorts. His eyes softened.

“Still grumpy?” you teased, brushing past him and patting his stomach playfully.

“Not grumpy. Just hungry,” he mumbled, curling an arm around your waist and pulling you in close.

“You’re always hungry lately.”

“Only for you,” he said, voice low in your ear.

You were about to respond maybe something flirty, maybe something sarcastic but your phone vibrated on the counter.

Sarah: “Important family meeting. 6pm at Mom and Dad’s. No excuses. I’ll bring dessert.”

Joel read over your shoulder. “That sounds suspicious.”

“Very.”

By 6:00, the house was full of noise again your favorite kind of chaos.

Joel Jr. came in first, tall and broad like his dad, kicking off his boots at the door. “You guys dying or something? Sarah was being dramatic in the group chat.”

“Watch it,” you warned, giving him a playful swat with the dishtowel. “We could be dying. You don’t know.”

“Guess I better stay for dinner just in case.”

Monica entered next, already scrolling through her phone. “If this is another intervention because Ellie says I talk too loud on speakerphone, I swear”

“I never said that,” Ellie snapped, walking in behind her. “I said you sound like a drunk squirrel when you laugh.”

“I do not!”

You were about to tell them all to quiet down when Sarah finally walked in, holding a bakery box and looking well, glowing.

“Hey, everyone.” She was smiling nervously.

Joel perked up, sensing something.

You watched as she placed the box on the coffee table and said, “Before we eat, I need to tell you something.”

Everyone went still. Even Ellie stopped chewing her gum.

Sarah opened the box, revealing a neat row of cupcakes half pink, half blue with tiny plastic booties on top.

Joel Jr. blinked. “Wait. Are those baby cupcakes?”

“Yeah,” Monica whispered. “Those are baby cupcakes.”

Sarah looked up at her siblings, then at you and Joel.

“I’m pregnant.”

It was like the air left the room.

Joel sat down hard on the couch, eyes wide. You stood frozen, hand over your mouth.

Then came the chaos.

Monica screamed, Ellie dropped her phone, Joel Jr. muttered something like “I thought this was about Dad’s cholesterol”, and you walked over to Sarah and pulled her into a hug, tears springing to your eyes.

“Oh, honey. Oh my God. Really?”

Sarah nodded, laughing through her own tears. “Yeah. I found out last week. I wanted you all to be the first to know.”

Joel was still silent, holding a tiny cupcake in his calloused hand like it might bite him.

“Joel?” you asked gently, eyes searching his.

He looked up, jaw tight. His voice cracked.

“You’re… you’re havin’ a baby?”

Sarah smiled. “I am, Daddy.”

He stood slowly, crossing the room and wrapping his arms around her. He didn’t say anything else. Just held her, tight and quiet, like the weight of the years was finally settling in.

After the kids had left still shouting across the driveway, Monica already planning the nursery you and Joel stood in the kitchen, the leftovers cooling on the stove, the house quiet again.

You turned to him, resting your arms around his neck. “You okay, old man?”

He looked down at you, his eyes warm, a crooked smile tugging at his lips.

“I watched her take her first steps in this damn kitchen,” he said softly. “Now she’s havin’ a baby of her own.”

You kissed his chest. “I know.”

Joel leaned in, touching his forehead to yours. “She’s gonna be a hell of a mom. Just like you were. Just like you are.”

Your fingers slid under the hem of his flannel. “You know what I was thinking?”

“What?”

“That we’re alone now. The kids are gone. House is quiet…”

He raised an eyebrow. “You makin’ a move on me, darlin’?”

“Joel, I just watched you cry over baby cupcakes. I’ve never been more in love with you in my life.”

That was all it took.

He hoisted you up onto the kitchen counter, kissing you like it was the first time, his hands rough but reverent as they skimmed up your sides. The cool tile beneath you only made his body feel hotter, his mouth trailing fire down your neck, your breath catching when he murmured against your skin.

“You gave me her, y’know,” he whispered. “And now she’s givin’ us another piece of her.”

Your hands found the edge of his shirt, lifting it as you whispered, “I gave you four pieces, Joel Miller. Don’t forget the twins and Ellie.”

He laughed really laughed and kissed you hard.

The moment your hands slipped under Joel’s flannel, his breath hitched.

The kitchen was warm from the oven, the scent of bacon still lingering in the air, but nothing compared to the heat building between your bodies.

Joel leaned in, his nose brushing your cheek, his voice rough and low.

“You got any idea what you do to me, sweetheart? Hm?” he murmured, his lips grazing your jaw as he slid your oversized T-shirt up, revealing soft skin and a pair of cotton panties that made his groan audible.

“You’ve been walking around in my shirt all damn day, legs bare, ass peeking out just enough to drive me crazy.”

You bit your lip, watching his pupils darken as he settled between your legs on the kitchen counter. His hands gripped your thighs possessively.

“Joel…”

“You think I don’t notice the way you sway your hips when I walk in? That you ain’t doin’ it on purpose?”

“I wasn’t”

“Don’t lie to me,” he growled, biting your earlobe. “You wanted me like this. Wanted me desperate.”

Your breath hitched as he ground his hips into you, the hard outline of his arousal unmistakable beneath his jeans. His lips crashed into yours hungry, claiming while his hands pulled your panties aside with practiced ease.

“You know what I was thinkin’ all through dinner?” he rasped between kisses. “While the kids were talkin’ ‘bout baby names and nursery colors? I was thinkin’ about how wet you were gettin’ just from watchin’ me be a good dad.”

You whined, arching into his touch as his fingers found you. He swiped once through your folds, groaning when he felt just how ready you were.

“Goddamn, baby. Already soaked for me.”

“I love you like this,” you gasped. “All rough and sweet.”

He smiled against your neck. “Yeah? Love when I talk to you like this, don’t you? When I remind you you’re mine?”

You nodded desperately as he pushed two fingers inside you, curling them just right while his thumb worked your clit with slow, deliberate circles.

“You gave me a whole family,” he whispered, voice shaking now. “You gave me a home. You made me a father. And now you’re makin’ me a fuckin’ grandfather.”

Your walls clenched around his fingers, making him curse.

“You still tight for me after all these years. Still my favorite thing in this whole damn world.”

“Joel, I..I need you”

“I got you, baby,” he promised, pulling away just long enough to shove his jeans down and line himself up. “I always got you.”

He entered you in one smooth, deep thrust, both of you gasping at the contact. The stretch, the fullness, the way his hips snapped into yours with aching precision it felt like the first time all over again.

“Fuck, you take me so good,” Joel groaned, gripping your hips as he thrust slow and deep. “This pussy’s mine. Always has been. Always will be.”

You moaned loudly, nails digging into his back, your body trembling with each stroke.

“You look so goddamn beautiful like this writhin’ for me, beggin’ for it. My wife. My girl. Mother of my kids. And now…”

He leaned close, kissing you softly this time, voice cracking.

“…soon to be Grandma.”

You laughed breathlessly against his lips, clutching him tighter.

“I’ll be a hot grandma.”

He grinned. “You’ll be the hottest fuckin’ grandma Texas has ever seen.”

And he kept moving worshiping you, unraveling you until you came apart around him with a strangled cry, dragging him over the edge with you. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, and he emptied himself inside you with a low, possessive growl.

He held you there for a long while, panting, pressed forehead to forehead.

“Still got it,” you whispered, dazed.

Joel kissed your shoulder. “Damn right we do.”

That night, you didn’t just celebrate Sarah’s announcement. You celebrated every moment that led to it. Every diaper, every sleepless night, every scraped knee and school play and long road trip in a beat-up car full of kids and Goldfish crackers.

You celebrated the life you built.

Together.

And just before drifting off to sleep, Joel rolled over and mumbled, “We need to baby-proof the house again.”

You groaned. “Not again.”

He chuckled. “Worth it.”

9 months later, Joel was walking around the living room holding a fussy baby girl in his arms like she was made of glass.

“Why’s she makin’ that face?” he asked, peering down at her. “Is that her poopin’ face? Jesus, she looks like Ellie when she’s constipated.”

You laughed from the couch, bottle in hand. “You’re so dramatic. She’s just hungry.”

Joel huffed, gently handing over your granddaughter. “She’s so small. Smaller than Sarah was.”

“She’s healthy. She’s perfect.”

He watched you feed her, his hand resting on your thigh, thumb stroking circles through your leggings.

After she finished and was snuggled up on your chest, asleep, Joel whispered, “Never thought I’d see the day. You, rockin’ a baby to sleep again. Me, worried I’d break her just by holdin’ her.”

You looked up at him, heart full.

“I think we did alright, huh?”

He nodded, eyes damp.

“Yeah, darlin’. We sure as hell did.”

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, Joel leaned down and pressed a kiss to your temple, his voice soft as ever.

“Still want you. Still love you. Always will.”

The living room was a battlefield of soft pastel blankets.

Joel stood dead center, brows furrowed, lips pressed in concentration as he stared down at his wriggling granddaughter on the couch. The baby blinked up at him with innocent confusion, one chubby arm escaping the sad excuse for a swaddle he’d attempted three times.

“Alright, you little Houdini,” Joel muttered, grabbing the blanket again and trying to fold it like that video Sarah made him watch on YouTube.

From the recliner, you were dying of silent laughter, watching your husband argue with a seven-pound infant like she was an Army recruit who wouldn’t take orders.

Joel gently rolled her tiny body to the side. “Stay still now, sunshine. We ain’t got all day.”

The baby cooed, kicked her legs, and proceeded to stick her entire fist in her mouth.

Joel, visibly sweating, made another attempt tucking one corner under her bottom, folding another across her chest but somehow she ended up looking like a lumpy Chipotle burrito with one arm sticking out and one sock missing.

“I swear to God,” Joel whispered like he was defusing a bomb. “If Ellie saw this, she’d never let me live it down.”

“I’m right here, and I’m not letting you live it down,” came Sarah’s voice from the front door.

Joel jumped like he’d been caught with a Playboy.

Sarah strode into the room, holding a Starbucks cup in one hand and a smirk in the other.

“Jesus, Dad,” she laughed. “She’s not a camping tent. You don’t need to roll her up like a sleeping bag.”

“She moved,” Joel defended, stepping aside like he was trying to preserve his dignity. “I almost had it.”

You cleared your throat behind your mug of tea. “You also said that last night with the IKEA shelf.”

Joel turned to you with an offended grunt. “That was different. The instructions were in Swedish.”

Sarah sat beside you, gently picking up her daughter and expertly re-swaddling her in less than twenty seconds.

Joel blinked.

“See?” she said, winking at him. “You just gotta make her feel like a little sushi roll. Tight, but not too tight.”

“She’s my granddaughter,” Joel muttered. “Not a damn California roll.”

Sarah laughed, kissing his cheek. “You’re lucky she already loves you. Even if you do swaddle like Frankenstein.”

Joel rolled his eyes, trying not to smile. “I raised you, didn’t I? You turned out fine.”

“Yeah, despite the burrito trauma,” she teased.

The baby gave a little yawn, content in her now-perfect swaddle. Joel stared down at her, one hand resting protectively on her back.

“…She looks like you when you were a baby,” he said quietly. “Same sleepy little mouth.”

Sarah softened. “She’s got your grumpy brow.”

He chuckled, eyes a little misty now. “Poor kid.”

You stood, wrapping your arms around his waist. “She’s got the best parts of all of us.”

And for once, Joel didn’t argue. He just nodded, kissing the crown of Sarah’s head, then yours.

The front door slammed open with the sound of sneakers and sarcasm.

“Alright, what did Dad break this time?” Ellie’s voice called from the hallway. “Was it the baby? Please tell me it wasn’t the baby.”

“In here!” you called, cradling the now-swaddled baby while Sarah handed Joel a burp cloth like he was a new recruit on the first day of bootcamp.

Monica and Joel Jr. barreled in behind Ellie, the twins already arguing over who got to hold their new niece next.

“Okay, but I brought the diapers and that organic baby butt cream,” Monica said, hands on her hips.

Joel Jr. rolled his eyes. “She poops. She doesn’t need luxury.”

“She’s a lady, you absolute troll”

“Kids,” Joel barked gently. “Calm down. You’re gonna stress her out.”

Ellie flopped onto the couch, cracking open a soda.

“Stress her out?” she snorted. “You almost wrapped her like a Quesarito thirty minutes ago.”

Joel stood tall, adjusting his flannel like he was at the podium for a presidential address.

“Y’all better show some respect,” he said, voice full Texas. “Because Big Poppa is in the building.”

There was a silence.

Then

“I’m sorry.. what?” Ellie sputtered mid-sip, coughing violently.

“Big Poppa?” Joel Jr. gasped. “Like… like the Notorious B.I.G. song?”

Monica doubled over, wheezing. “Oh my god, please stop. I’m begging you.”

Joel smirked smugly, arms crossed over his chest. “What? It’s got a ring to it. Better than ‘Grandpa Joel.’ I ain’t ready to sound like I wear orthopedic shoes and play bridge.”

You choked on your laugh from across the room, rocking the baby gently.

Sarah blinked. “You literally wore compression socks on the plane to Colorado.”

“That was for circulation,” he snapped defensively.

“Sure, Big Poppa,” Ellie teased, kicking her feet onto the coffee table. “Next thing we know, you’ll be dropping a mixtape called Burps & Bottles.”

Joel gave her the flattest look he could manage. “You done?”

“Not even close,” Ellie grinned. “I’m putting you in my phone as Big Poppa starting now.”

Joel Jr. was already typing furiously. “Group chat rename incoming.”

Monica added, “Oooooh! Can I be Lil G-Ma? Mom, say yes.”

You just groaned, sinking deeper into the couch. “I regret all of you.”

Joel walked over to you and leaned down to kiss your temple, grinning as he whispered, “Still got it.”

You murmured back, “God help me, you really do.”

And as the living room filled with laughter, bickering, and the soft, sleepy sounds of your first grandchild sighing in her swaddle, Joel Big Poppa himself wrapped his arms around you from behind and whispered in your ear:

“House might be full again, baby. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The front door shut with a soft click, with a heavy sigh and a soft kiss behind your ear.

“Well, sweetheart,” he murmured, “we survived.”

You turned in his arms, your hands sliding up the worn cotton of his flannel. “Barely. You almost got jumped for that ‘Big Poppa’ nonsense.”

Joel smirked, chin dipped down so your noses brushed. “You liked it.”

“I tolerated it.”

“You bit your lip.”

“I was trying not to laugh.”

Joel leaned in, his voice husky, low. “Could’ve sworn you were lookin’ at me like you used to… back when the house got real quiet at night. After the girls went to sleep.”

You raised a brow. “Is that right?”

“Mmhmm.” He backed you slowly toward the kitchen island, his hands already roaming, finding every familiar dip and curve. “Back when you’d pull me by my belt loops and whisper that I was handsome when I was grumpy.”

“I still do.”

“Yeah,” he rasped, pinning you gently against the counter. “But now you’re a grandma when you do it. Real filthy of you.”

You gasped, pretending to swat him. “Joel Miller!”

“Don’t act shocked, darlin’. You know I like it when you get a little bad.”

His lips met your neck, slow and warm, trailing down just behind your ear where he knew it drove you wild. You tilted your head back with a soft gasp as his fingers teased beneath your blouse.

“You cooked me breakfast this mornin’,” Joel murmured. “Fed our whole family. Rocked our granddaughter to sleep. And now…” He pressed against you, unmistakably hard. “Now I wanna ruin you a little.”

Your breath caught.

He lifted you with ease onto the counter, stepping between your thighs, crowding you in. “Let me have this,” he said. “Let me remind you you’re still mine. Every perfect inch of you.”

You curled your fingers in his hair. “Door’s locked?”

Joel grinned. “Sweetheart, I deadbolted it the second they backed outta the driveway.”

He was unhurried with you tugging your shirt over your head, kissing every inch of newly exposed skin like you were something precious. He whispered filthy things against your collarbone how good you smelled, how soft you felt, how no one had ever made him lose his mind the way you still could with just one look.

You wrapped your legs around his waist as his hand slid down your thigh, callused thumb teasing where you ached for him most.

“You’re soaked already?” he murmured, voice gone low and gritty. “Fuck, baby. That for me?”

Your nails dug into his back, breathless.

“Been wantin’ to touch you like this all day,” Joel growled. “All through dinner, all through dessert… watchin’ you with her. You’re so damn beautiful. Gonna have to take my time with you.”

And he did. Right there on the cool granite of the kitchen counter, with your hands clutching his shoulders and his name falling from your lips like a prayer. He worshipped you like the woman who gave him everything a home, a family, a forever.

When it was over, he held you close, forehead resting against yours, breath warm and uneven.

“Still think I’m grumpy?” he murmured, teasing.

You smiled, lazily running your fingers through his silvered curls. “Mmhmm. But you’re my grump.”

He chuckled, lifting you off the counter and carrying you toward the bedroom like it was second nature.

“C’mon, Big Poppa’s got one more round in him.”

“Joel!”

[lemonadesociety]

Buckle up because we are about to get all of these guys within the span of a few months.

[xdarkrealityx]

POV: Coming home to this

[eliispunkk]

MDNI ‼️

Guys…might be weird but i literally saw a 🌽 gif that looks too much like pedro😵

https://xporn-gifs.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/Passionate-sexual-gif-52.gif

[luvvyouforever]

i am a die hard game version joel miller lover