#pedropascal

[mdawgswizzleinthehizzle]

not her literally tearing up over how good of a person pedro is.

this man has set the bar into another universe.

[pascalisthepunkest]

HAPPY 50th BIRTHDAY, PEDRO!

[tagged-by-trauma]

Hands behind your back

After a long day and a very relaxing shower Joel waits for you sitting on your bed. He shows you just how tough his day was between quiet groans and dirty glances. Pairing: jackson!Joel x f!reader Warnings: established realtionship, explicit sexual content (+18), dom!joel/sub!reader, dirty talk, oral (m receiving), deep throating/throat fucking, hair pulling, boot riding (uhm... yeah), cum eating, soft aftercare and cuddles, but basically just full on porn without much plot Word count: 2.2k A/N: Hey everyone! I'm still new to fanfiction writing and this is my very first attempt at it. I would highly appreciate it if you left some feedbacks or your opinions about what should I improve! P.S: English is not my first language, so sorry if I made any mistake or typo! Also, if I left anything out from the warnings just yell!

Nighttime always came quickly and quietly in the little town that was Jackson. This small settlement that was hugged by mountains, forests, abandoned buildings and high walls that kept out every possible danger. This settlement where even though hell was raging outside the gates, the days were full of life and laughter. The town hall loud with the sound of cutlery clinking and people talking. The streets lively with children running around and playing with each other while their parents watched with careful and protective eyes.

You were getting out of the shower, the bathroom full of steam, the little house staying in quietness. Standing in front of the mirror you looked at your blurry reflection. Your body covered in scars earned by successful fights against clickers or aggressive and eager raiders along the road. You pulled a towel tight across your form and opened the room’s door but when you saw what was waiting outside—or more like who—you stopped in your tracks.

Joel Miller was there.

You met him first when you arrived in Jackson and instantly knew that he was the grumpiest, toughest, most insufferable man you’ve ever met in your whole life. With his broad shoulders, quiet intelligence and thick shell he was a very new and different face in town. But somewhere along the way you realized that he wasn’t that bad after all. Yes, he had bad days where he gave everyone the deadliest gazes, pretended to be tough when a word hit home too roughly but you saw right through him. And you couldn’t resist him anymore, but neither could he. And now, now he was sitting on the edge of the bed with the most unsettling calmness on his face you’ve ever received from him.

You took some steps forward and he was watching your every move with a hungry gaze. His usually brown eyes were so dark with desire now that they almost seemed black in the low light of the bedside lamp, jaw tight with restrained want and hands balled up into tight fists on his thighs.

“Joel—” you wanted to ask him something—anything—but he drowned the words into your throat with one lustful and sharp look.

“Come here,” his voice was low and gravelly, commanding in a way you couldn’t explain and before you could even think you were already moving and standing vulnerably in front of him, towel drawn even tighter around you, knees brushing against his flexed thighs.

“On your knees. Hands behind your back,” you obeyed him, slowly letting yourself to the ground and looking up at him with wide eyes. He reached for the edge of your towel and with a firm tug he let it fall to the ground exposing you to him. His eyes raked over every part of your body with lust, and you shivered—either from the want that built up in you from only this command or the slow vulnerability scratching at you from the inside—goosebumps covering your forearms. His sudden demeanour sent a rush of wetness between your legs making you squirm and squeeze your thighs together to relieve some of the pressure.

“You don’t get to touch unless I tell you to, understood?” you nodded, your own arousal building with every ticking second. He suddenly leaned forward and grabbed your jaw between his thumb and index finger keeping you in place.

“Use that pretty mouth of yours,” he whispered as he moved his head down the column of your neck, his rough beard scratching the skin and his mouth blowing slow kisses to your pulse, teeth scraping the warm and flushed flesh.

“Yes,” you breathed softly and couldn’t focus on anything else just his mouth on you. He pulled back and you let out a gasp at his sudden distance. He looked down at you with the smuggest smirk playing in the corner of his mouth.

“Good girl,” you felt yourself grow even wetter if that was possible and he leaned back on his hands, one coming to rest on the front of his jeans as he started to rub himself through the rough fabric of the denim, and you drooled at the sight of him, sprawled out on your bed, gaze fixed on you in front of him on your knees, hands behind your back.

He reaches for the leather of his belt and unbuckles it, the sound crawling up your spine and settling deep in your bones. Next the zipper came undone and you could see the huge bulge straining against the confines of his briefs. You noticed the wet patch of precum on the dark fabric and you couldn’t help but bite your lip and let out a small and needy whimper. He chuckled low at your reaction and stopped in his movements.

“You’re so eager, aren’t you?”

He reached for the waistband of his briefs and freed himself, his cock springing free and slapping against his covered stomach, your gaze glued to it. He was big, bigger than your previous partners, his tip flushed an angry red—almost purple from the restrained need—precum leaking from the small slit at the top. His hand reached down and grasped himself, letting out a strangled groan that didn’t sound humanly spiced with a swear. His hand started moving with slow and languid strokes, his thumb spreading the precum all over his length, coating himself.

He was feeling on cloud nine. You looking at him hungrily, like he would be the best fucking feast you’ve ever had, mouths parted, pupils dilated. He let his head fall forward, a low groan escaping from the deepest parts of his body. His eyes squeezed shut, not daring to look at you, because if he did he might have come undone.

Meanwhile his other hand came up to your jaw and caressed it with soft tenderness. Full opposite from what his right was doing. Your eyes moved back and forth between his cock and his pleasured expression. You closed them and started to move your thighs together, somehow releasing the pent-up tension that settled deep down in your stomach.

“Fuck, darlin’. Look at you,” his thumb moved across your lower lip and caressing it. You felt light-headed and breathless. Spiked by a sudden idea you seductively opened your mouth and took his finger into your mouth. He looked at you taken aback but his right hand sped up and you could see his cock twitching in his fist. You just hummed and swirled your tongue around him, hollowing your cheek.

“Jesus, darlin’,” he stuttered with a shaky breath. You wanted to pull your hand in front of you by habit, but when he saw your intentions, he pulled his thumb from your mouth and grabbed your throat with a careful but firm strength that knocked all the air out of your lungs. “No touching, remember? Otherwise I’ll have to punish you, darlin’,” you saw that he was serious, but couldn’t help and be aroused by the idea of being spread over his thigh, ass up and angry red with his handprints as he spanks the obedience into you.

“Joel—”

“Nah-ah, darlin’. Now, open wide,” you looked in his eyes, parted your mouth and sticked out your tongue. His arousal could be evident by the dark fire that was burning behind his lashes, and his hand came to the back of your neck, collecting your hair in one swift motion.

“Fuck, darlin’. Let me feel those perfect fucking lips around me,” saliva was already pooling in your mouth when you leaned forward and licked a stripe up from the base of his length to the tip. He let out and animalistic growl, his hand that was holding your hair tightening. Your tongue traced the curves of the veins that were running up on the sides. When you arrived to his head, you placed soft kitten licks there and lapped up the precum that was leaking from his length. He suddenly tugged at your hair and pulled you back. “Don’t fucking tease me, darlin’. I’m not in the fucking mood tonight.”

His hand guided you back to his cock and this time you didn’t hesitate to take him in your mouth. Your eyes found his and you let yourself take up the eye contact while you were going up and down on his length. You could feel his feet shuffling and you felt the tip of his boots between your thighs. You pulled back and let out a soft gasp, head tipping forward.

“Did I say you could stop?”, he pulled your hair back, so you could see his face now covered in sweat. “You’re gonna ride my boots while I’m gonna fuck your mouth, darlin’,” he slowly moved his boots back and forth, and you dived back down on his cock with a breathy moan. You swirled your tongue around his length, hollowing your cheeks and taking him even deeper with every move. His boots were moving with slowness for the first few minutes but as you picked up the pace, he did the same. You were a mess at that moment, your only focus on making him come. The shoelaces were rubbing against your clit with every grind of your hips, your arousal soaking the rough material of the shoes, leaving behind a very prominent wet patch.

He also placed his other hand around the back of your head and carefully pushed you, making you take him deeper. You relaxed your throat, and when you could feel the tip of his cock at the back of your throat and the soft hair at the base, you looked up at him and studied his expression. Jaw slack, eyes squeezed, sweat collecting between his brows, threatening to spill down the line of his nose. You hummed around him, and the vibrations ran through his whole body settling at his brain.

He gripped your hair tighter and kept you in place as he pulled back his hips from your lips and thrusted forward once again. You were a writhing mess under his touch, eyes teary as his tip touched the back of your throat over and over again while his boots were continuing its movements against your swollen clit.

“Fuck, darlin’. I’m not gonna last long if you keep going like this,” his head fell back with a strangled groan, and you could feel his cock twitching in your mouth. Swirling your tongue around his length he moaned your name and exploded in your mouth, the salty taste of him hitting your tastebuds. You pulled back and swallowed every last drop of him, opening your mouth so he could see.

“Good girl. Now, you get off by just riding my boots,” you nodded and grinded down harder. “You can move your hands, darlin’,” he murmured, and you obeyed, pulling your hands forward and placing them on his thighs, steadying yourself.

“Joel, I—” you moaned his name as your orgasm shattered through you. You were clenching around nothing and your legs shaking as you softly bit down on his denim-covered thighs. He was caressing your hair, your cheeks, anything he could reach.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he cooed with a tender voice, complete opposite to what he showed you just a few minutes ago. “Let yourself go.”

As you came down from your high, you slowly raised to your feet and looked at the mess you made on his boots. It was now covered in your juices, glistening under the low lights of the room. He unbuttoned his flannel and took it off, now completely exposing himself to you. You saw the faint outlines of his scars over his body and you couldn’t help but want to trace them with your fingers.

He pulled you down on the bed and tugged you close to his form, your head resting on his chest. This side of him was the complete opposite of what he always showed to people outside your house, and you loved it. Loved how soft he could get with you but be dominant if he had a bad day on patrol or someone annoyed him with their mere presence. It was like he was a completely different person with you.

You snuggled closer into his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your head and the faint smell of sweat on his skin. Your hand came up to his face and rested on the little patch between his beard.

“Tough day?” you breathed against his skin, looking into his eyes.

“Hm,” hummed eyes closing, hands tightening around you. “Don’t wanna talk ‘bout it. But I’m glad you’re here.”

“Of course,” you said, and you could feel as his breathing slowed and his heartbeat calmed down. You carefully reached for the bedside lamp and turned it off, coating the room in complete darkness. As you settled back beside him, you gave a soft kiss to his temple and closed your eyes.

The bedroom was quiet except the low sound of a distant owl filling the otherwise quiet space. And here, tangled in the sheets—hugged close by his arms—his chest rising and falling under your cheeks, you felt like the world outside didn’t exist, and it was only the two of you.

[iamasaddie]

she should've said 'yes, dad, thanks. you're the best' btw

[tteotlma]

breathe you in

Dead,, needing to SMELL your lover to be okay????– GETTOUTTA HEREEEE

joel miller x reader imagine 2kwc

TW: 18+ MDNI; nsfw, post-panic attack intimacy, intense emotional vulnerability, scent as grounding, emotionally driven sex, power dynamics (consensual), begging, praise kink, desperate and talkative!Joel, soft domination, slow grinding, unprotected sex, deep emotional dependency, cockwarming adjacent energy, physical clinging, overstimulation potential

a/n: Also i’m def trying to bring back the casuality of what used to be posting on here…. There are many layers to this, which i could talk abt all day, but for now  Bc i still love Joel, so very much 

Imagine it’s late at night, you and Joel have gone to bed. You’re wrapped in the heat of your shared duvet, blanket tucked under your chin just how you like it. Joel had fallen asleep with his arm wrapped tightly around you, but that was hours ago, and… a man’s gotta spread. He’s sprawled out on the bed beside you, both fast asleep. 

Suddenly, the bed creaks with an aggressive shake, and loud mumbling turned panic fills the room. You’re ripped from your sleep when the sounds of his gasps break through your dream barrier, and you realize Joel must’ve had another nightmare. 

Throwing the blanket off your body, you sit up and reach over to touch his face, soft shushes leaving your lips. 

“Hey, hey,” you cooed, “Joel, Baby—” You tried to pacify his cries, warming your hand against the curve of his jaw as you leaned into his side of the bed. He was frantic as he looked around the room, trying to reorient himself. 

“Sweetheart,” getting on your knees, you move to straddle one of his legs, trying not to become frantic. “It was just a nightmare, look at me.” This had come out more stern than previous, and it seemed to break through whatever trance Joel seemed to find himself in. 

His sounds softened as you continued to coax his attention towards you. Soon, the only sound that left his lips turned into heavy breathing as his hand shakily grasped your wrist against his skin. His eyes widen as he finally turns to look at you. 

Cupping his face in both hands, you lean in, “Just Breathe—” his eyebrows curled, a hand on his ches,t “In and out,” your chest mimics your words. 

“I—I—I—” He tries to talk, but you gently hush him.

“It’s okay; you don’t have to talk; just…” The hand on the center of his chest pressed deeper against the warmth of his shirt, silently reminding him where to focus. His hand came to rest atop yours, and he nodded. You locked eyes, and you noticed his pupils were blown wide. 

You stay like that, still and close, for what feels like hours, though only minutes pass—as he slowly pulls himself from the fog of his nightmare.  Then, without a word, his eyes drop to his lap. One hand drifts to your hip, the other settling at the bend of your arm, his chest still rising and falling in uneven waves.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispers, voice rough and low. 

You hook a finger beneath his chin, gently guiding his face to yours. “For you,” you whisper, tucking a stray salt-and-pepper curl behind his ear, “anything.”

Your thumb grazes his cheek, tender and steady as you hold his face in your hands. You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

The hand on your hip slides to your lower back, his palm warm and deliberate as he draws you into his chest. You go easily, folding into the hug, your cheek resting against the curve of his neck. He holds you there, solid, quiet—like the act of touching you is the only thing keeping him grounded. 

His face finds the crook of your neck while your chin rests on his shoulder. You feel him breathe you in. At first, it’s subtle and slow, his nose brushing your skin, chest rising against yours as he inhales deeply. He sighs.

Then he does it again. Slower. Longer. His nose drags across the slope of your neck, and his breath leaves him shakier this time.

You feel the edge of his teeth when he speaks, his voice low against your skin, the rough scrape of his stubble trailing higher as he nuzzles along your jaw. You tilt instinctively, baring more of your neck. His hand slides up your spine, fingers splayed, holding you firmly against him.

His lips hover near your skin—not quite kissing, but close enough to make you shiver. The coarse drag of his stubble follows the curve of your jaw as his nose nudges higher. You tilt again, offering more without thinking.

That’s all it takes.

His mouth finds your pulse. One soft kiss. Then another. Then one just beneath your ear that lingers a little too long.

When you turn your face toward his, his eyes drop to your mouth.

And then he kisses you.

It starts slow, careful, almost hesitant. His lips part against yours, and one hand moves higher on your back, holding you steady. The tension breaks when you sigh into him and your fingers tighten in the back of his shirt.

The kiss deepens. His mouth moves over yours like he’s hungry for it, like this is the only way he knows how to speak. His hand comes up to cradle your jaw. His tongue brushes yours, coaxing, tasting. You whimper softly, and he groans into your mouth like the sound unravels him.

Like, he’s not just kissing you.

Like he’s trying to hold on to the only thing that, to him, feels real. 

“Every time I breathe you in, I want more.” He pulls back, eyes hooded as he stares at your now swollen lips.

“Please, baby… let me have more.” He kisses the corner of your mouth, slow and warm, watching the way your chest heaves beneath him. He sees it—the way your breath catches, the flicker of doubt in your eyes—and he doesn’t wait.

“Only if you want it,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along your jaw. “I’ll take my time. I’ll be gentle. Just… I need to be close. Closer than this.”

Another kiss, softer this time, pressed just below your ear.

“I don’t want to fuck. I want to feel. Want to be in your skin and know what it’s like to come home and mean it.”

He rests his forehead against yours, breathing you in again like it’s the only thing that calms the storm in his chest.

Your hands come up to cradle his face, thumbs sweeping across the stubble at his cheeks. You nod slowly, silently, teeth caught between your lips—and that’s all it takes.

Joel exhales like he’s been underwater, like he’s just come up for air. He shifts his weight and turns you both over in one smooth motion, laying you gently beneath him. His hands don’t leave your body, not once, as your thighs part instinctively to cradle his hips. He settles there, warm and solid, his full weight pressing you into the mattress. His chest hovers just above yours, his forearms braced on either side of your head, eyes locked on yours like he’s still asking for permission, even without the words.

He leans in, kisses you again—slower this time. His lips are warm and sure, his breath steadying against your cheek. He kisses you like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your mouth, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear the second he looks away. His hips roll forward, a slow drag of pressure right against the heat between your legs, and your back arches to meet him.

Even through the layers, you can feel the thick weight of him, already hardening as he grinds against you. The pressure is deliberate, controlled, but needy. Like he’s not chasing pleasure, but grounding himself in it.

"That’s it," he murmurs into your mouth, voice thick. "Just wanna feel you, baby. That’s all I need."

He shifts again, just enough to work one hand down between your bodies, tugging at the waistband of his sweats. You feel the soft brush of his knuckles against your stomach as he pushes them low, and then you reach for him too, helping him slide them off. The soft sound of fabric rustling fills the space between your breaths. When his cock presses against your bare thigh—hot and heavy—you both shudder.

“Take these off for me, sweetheart,” he breathes, thumb hooking into the waistband of your shorts.

You lift your hips, and he pulls them down slowly, carefully, like you’re something breakable. His hands linger on your thighs when he tosses them aside, calloused palms dragging back up the insides until you’re spread open for him again.

He settles between your legs and lines himself up, the thick head of his cock dragging through your folds, already wet and aching. One hand rests at your waist, the other steadying himself against the mattress.

"Tell me if it’s too much," he says, voice barely above a whisper. "I’ll stop. I swear. I’ll stop if you need me to."

You shake your head immediately, breathing hard.

"Don’t stop, Joel. I need you."

He presses forward slowly, easing into you inch by inch. The stretch steals the breath from your lungs, your fingers curling into the muscles at his back as he sinks deeper. His body shudders above you when he bottoms out, buried completely.

“Fuck—Jesus Christ,” he groans, the words broken against your neck. “You feel like heaven. So warm… fuck, you’re takin’ me so good.”

He stays there for a moment, unmoving. His body presses flush to yours, his hand slides under your back, palm flat between your shoulder blades like he’s holding you there, grounding both of you. When he starts to move, it’s slow, deep, grinding strokes that have you gasping softly beneath him.

Each roll of his hips pulls a quiet sound from your throat. Your body clenches around him, clinging, wet, and pulsing as you fall into his rhythm.

“Needed this,” he whispers. His voice is hoarse, raw. “Felt like I was gonna fuckin’ lose it tonight.”

His forehead presses to yours as he keeps moving inside you, languid, like you’re the only thing tethering him to reality.

“You’re the only thing that feels real right now.”

He holds you so close. One hand cupping the back of your head, the other gripping your thigh, spreading you wider, deeper. His mouth grazes your temple, your jaw, and your lips between every breath.

“Only time I can breathe is when I’m buried in you.”

Your legs tighten around his waist, your heel digging into the curve of his ass as you pull him in harder. He groans, thrusts faltering for half a beat before he finds his rhythm again, slightly rougher now, more desperate.

His mouth drops to your shoulder, breath shaking against your skin.

“Let me cum inside you,” he pants. “Wanna feel you wrapped around me when I cum.”

Your answer is a whimper, your nails dragging down his back. He kisses you again—messy and open-mouthed, tongue sweeping against yours like he needs to taste every part of you.

“Let me give it to you, baby—let me fuckin’ give it to you.” He thrusts hard with each syllable. 

You nod, eyes fluttering closed, thighs shaking. His thrusts grow more frantic, deeper, like he’s chasing the edge with every desperate breath.

"That’s it," he groans. "That’s it, darlin’. You take me so fuckin’ well—always do. My good girl."

He spills inside you with a broken, guttural moan, burying his face in the crook of your neck as his whole body trembles above you. You feel every twitch, every pulse of release, warm and deep and grounding.

"Thank you," he whispers into your skin, over and over, voice crumbling. "Thank you. Thank you. Didn’t know how much I needed this until you. Until you."

He doesn’t pull out. Doesn’t move except to press soft kisses to your neck, your jaw, your cheek.

“Gonna hold you now, alright?” he murmurs. “Just wanna hold you for a while. That okay, baby?”

You nod, barely able to breathe.

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest like he’s afraid to let you go. And for a long time, neither of you says anything at all.

--

a/n: pls don't let another one flop -- REBLOG TO SUPPORT <3

[bweeeb]

HAWAII SOLUTIONS

Dbf Joel Miller × Reader

Summary: If your dad can fuck someone younger, so can you, maybe his hot best friend?

warnings: dirt, sex in public but without public, age gap, smut, I'm not fluent in English so I apologize for mistakes,

♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧

Vacation. My dad said I needed a vacation when I decided to drop out of business school. That’s how I ended up here. In Hawaii.

The beach was stunning, the food was amazing, and nothing beats sleeping in hotel beds—but then there was them. My dad, his girlfriend—Addison, who was disgustingly just two years older than me—and, of course, his best friend, Joel. Fucking Joel Miller.

He was a problem, but not the kind that made me want to rip my hair out—or his.

Addison, now she was a problem. Everywhere. At home—loud, at college—loud, on the plane—loud. That bitch is loud everywhere, trust me. I was always sure she was with my dad for the money, the Gucci bags, and the tuition he paid for. Which was ridiculous. And yet, here she was in Hawaii.

‘You’re too tense.’

Joel said it as he lay back on the lounge chair next to mine on the beach.

He’d been my problem since I was fifteen. Seven years later, I was still here, looking at him like he was some Greek god. Well, I’d be damned if he wasn’t, lounging there while I sat stiffly, watching the way-too-happy couple by the water.

‘I’m not,’

I mumbled.

‘You should hate her less. And him too—he’s trying.’

‘Come on, Joel. Don’t do this.’

‘Do what?’

‘Say that crap. He’s a hypocrite. I could never be with someone the way he’s with her.’

I huffed and rolled my eyes.

‘She makes him happy.’

He said, and I just stayed quiet. ‘Why’d you drop out of college?’

I shrugged without looking at him. That bastard reached over, his thick fingers pressing into my cheeks, forcing me to look at him.

‘Look at me and stop acting like a child.’

‘I’m not,’ I hissed through gritted teeth. He was shirtless under an open blue dress shirt, chest hair trailing down into those red swim trunks, and god, I could ride that nose for hours.

‘There she is, looking at me,’

he teased, and my cheeks flushed. He smiled.

‘Now tell me.’

‘She distracts me.’

I kept it short, especially since his hand was now grazing my collarbone and neck, back and forth in the sweetest little touch.

‘How does she distract you? I thought you liked men ’

' Shut up old man ' I teased him and saw his jaw tighten

' I'm fucking 45 you brat '

' Oh, so you can still get an erection to fuck me?'

' Continue where you were'

‘Everyone knows about him. They talk. She flaunts being with one of us and spending all our money. It bothers me.’

‘You should tell him.’

‘Like he’d believe me. You know him, you know exactly what he’d say.’

‘Unfortunately, I do, sweetheart.’

Joel looked down for a second, then back at me. ‘But you know… you could flip the script.’

‘What do you mean?’

Now it was him who shrugged. I laughed.

‘I mean, you’re 22. Want revenge? Take it. You’re in Hawaii.’

‘He’d kill me if I slept with someone.’

‘ Put the blame on daddy issues,’ Joel said playfully, and I laughed louder.

‘Fuck you.’

‘Watch your mouth, young lady.’

He scolded me, and I stuck out my tongue. He smiled at me.

Oh, I was seeing something all right—or maybe just fantasizing about him naked again.

‘Hey, you two! Come back to the room, let’s reserve dinner. You joining us?’

My dad called out as he walked toward us with his way-too-young girlfriend.

‘Sure,’ Joel answered, removing his hands from me and sitting up.

As they left the beach, I smiled at Joel and stood up, squinting down at him.

‘What?’

‘You shouldn’t wear a shirt at the beach.’ I put my hands on my hips.

‘I do what I want, I’m a grown man, doll.’

‘Well, so am I—grown, I mean.’

With that, I walked over and sat on his lap like I had no damn filter. Joel grunted, not touching me until I rolled my eyes and pulled his hands to my body.

‘You shouldn’t wear a dress to the beach either.’

‘It’s a cover-up,’ I muttered, but smiled right after. ‘But since you insist…’

I pulled it over my head, silently thanking myself for choosing my smallest bikini today. Joel’s eyes dropped to my chest, and I slowly unbuttoned his shirt until he was bare-chested.

‘We should go for a swim’

I suggested.

‘It’s getting dark.’

‘Even better.’

I stood, swaying my hips as I headed toward the water and the setting sun. I heard Joel mutter a fuck’s sake before he ran after me, grabbing me by the waist and tossing me over his shoulder.

‘Joel! Don’t you dare throw me, are you listening—'

‘Too late, sweetheart.’

The cold water shocked my skin, and I screamed. Then screamed again when strong arms wrapped around my waist from behind.

‘I think I want my revenge,’

I whispered, as Joel pressed wet kisses to my salty skin.His tongue circled my neck like I was some kind of delicious ice cream. As my body warmed up, I turned to face him, wrapping my legs around his waist and feeling his hard-on through my bikini.

‘I can’t fuck you. Fuck,’

he groaned, running his hands along my body.

‘Then why’d you say that?’

I whined, clinging to him.

‘Baby girl…’

‘Let’s just… do something. I just want to feel you.’

I pulled his cock out of his shorts, stroked him a few times, and then sank down on him.

‘What are you doing?’

His voice was low, breathless.

‘Mmm.’

I moaned with my eyes closed, clenching around him.

‘I just wanted to feel you inside me.’

‘Ah, baby. We can’t do this here.’

He shifted slightly, which made his cock slide deeper into my slick pussy. Fuck, I wanted him to wreck me right there.

‘Fuck, you’re so tight. Your sweet little pussy. Fuck my life.’

He groaned, eyes closed. Then a shout broke the spell.

‘Hey! What are you two still doing out there?’

My dad’s voice from the shore.

‘Why are you clinging to him?’

Because your best friend’s cock is buried in your little girl’s pussy.

‘I think there are crabs out here!’ I yelled.

‘She got scared,’ Joel added. And just then, a small wave hit us, and his hips bucked forward, driving his cock deeper inside me. The first wave of the night.

‘Alright, better come back, it’s getting dark.’

My dad called again. Joel thrust one more time, stealing my breath with a quiet moan.

‘Ahh…’

I moaned softly, and Joel smiled.

‘Add and I will be up on the deck!’

My dad pointed to the wooden deck overlooking the beach.

‘We’ll be right up!’ Joel shouted, and pulled out, hiding himself quickly. He dragged us out of the water before Dad could see. The cave-like spot beneath the deck was perfect—no view, just the sound of waves.Joel grabbed my ass again and slid inside me as he sat down. I bounced on his dick while he sucked on my nipples.

‘Riding my dick so good, baby.’

‘Oh Joel, I love your dick. Thank you,’

I whimpered, and he laughed in bliss.

‘Yeah, baby, you’re such a filthy little thing, always craving my dick.’

‘I am. Fuck me, Joel. I’m yours.’

He flipped me over, and I arched my ass up for him. Joel slammed back inside me. fucking my ass hard, the sound of his balls slapping against my skin made me shiver with the hard feeling of him.

‘Fuck, you feel so good.’ His hands pulled me to the air to rest my back against his chest and his hand massaged my swollen clitoris, rubbing my wet pussy for it.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!’

I moaned as my climax hit, and three more deep thrusts had his balls smacking my ass before he emptied himself inside me.

‘You think he heard us?’

‘Probably,’

Joel said, breathless.

‘Good.’

If this was what vacation meant, I had zero complaints.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

[doeeyezz]

bye y'all my ride is here

[ratpacman]

God we are so back

[liminaltourist]

Found this photo and it's totally Pedro Pascal coded. Am I wrong? 🤔 I'm afraid I've fallen down the rabbit hole 🐇

P.s. if you write something a fic about this please tag me. Would love to read it!

[javierpena-inatacvest]

His

Summary: Javi can't get enough of you (aka idk how to summarize this other than it's pwp whoops)

Word Count: 1.8K

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!Reader

Warnings: ... again, this is straight up pwp, unprotected p in v sex, rough(er) sex, breeding kink (I'm sorry!! I'm sorry!! It's physically impossible to not!!), praise kink, big, nasty creampie, cum play, 1 use of daddy and papí (but like, that's the goal), an ass smack, prone bone and the one position from s2e3 of Narcos because I say so!!! also sweet, tooth rotting fluff because I don't know how to write any other way

A/N: She's nothing, if not consistent, your honor 🤠 You'll have to pry Javier Peña and his big, fat breeding kink out of my cold, dead hands before I stop writing about it!!!!!! Figured what better way to break a hiatus than letting the ovulation demons do the lords work for me to post some smut on tumblr dot com, hope y'all enjoy!!!

Never Too Late Masterlist

“Fuck, Javi!” 

The only thing that’s keeping you from waking up your neighbors with the volume of your moans is the way Javi has you pressed against the mattress, muffling the sound of you screaming his name as he pounds into you, over and over. 

You swear he could smell it on you from the second he walked through the door, how you had been craving him all day. Just the thought of him alone was enough to make you ache with unbearable need and want. From the moment he left for work this morning, you were counting down the hours until he got home so you could climb him like a goddamn tree. 

But then again, how can anyone blame you when he’s the one who instigated it in the first place? 

“I swear to god, when I get home, I’m not letting you out of the fucking bed tonight ‘till I knock you up.” 

“Is that a threat or a promise, Javi?” 

“Both.” 

Javi’s always been a man of his word, but with the way he’s fucking you right now, it makes you wonder if he’s ever planning on letting you out of the bed again. 

“That’s it baby girl, let me hear it.” 

You can feel the way the words rumble in his chest, pressed against your back as he fucks into you, deeper and harder with each thrust. The grip around your intertwined fingers tighten, practically melting you into the bed with the weight of his broad body is pinning you down, caging you beneath him. 

Heat is radiating off him, the tacky sheen of sweat pooling where your skin meets, Javi’s hips flushed against the meat of your ass. He’s already got you three orgasms deep, but there’s just something addictive about Javi that always has you begging for more, desperate to cum around his cock over and over again until you have nothing left to give. 

“Oh my god- fuck. Fuck, Javi, I want more baby, please. Fuck me harder- oh fuck-” 

You swear you can feel his smirk creeping into the corners of his cheeks as he kisses your shoulder, relishing in the mess he’s already made you, and yet, you still can’t seem to get enough of him. 

“You want more, hermosa? Let me hear you, baby.” Javi coos, purposely slowing his pace down just enough to make you whimper, quietly laughing to himself at the way he can feel you back your ass up against his hips, trying to keep yourself as full of him as you can. 

“I want it, I want more, baby, please.” You whine, craning your neck behind you just enough to see the devilish grin Javi has plastered across his face. 

“You gonna be a good girl and take everything I have to give you? Let me fill you up until it’s got no choice but to fuckin’ stick?” He groans, the thought of fucking himself so deep inside you that nine months from now, he’ll be the reason for your growing family, igniting something indescribably primal in him. 

“Yes! Yes, please, fuck- I’ll take all of it!” 

It’s borderline pathetic how many octaves your voice has climbed as you beg him for more, a pitch and volume so loud and high you nearly startle yourself with your response. You can hear Javi sigh and curse under his breath. You’re not sure if it’s because having you like this drives him crazy, or if having you like this drives him so crazy, he’s worried he’ll bust right then and there if he doesn’t control himself. 

Your response has him shifting behind you, sitting back on his knees and gripping his fingers into the meat of your sides to force your bottom half up, one hand letting go to smack your ass just hard enough for your breath to hitch in the back of your throat. 

You’re not sure how, but the new position has him feeling even fuller, stretching you out to the point of pleasure filled sobs as he starts to pound against your g-spot, each thrust rougher than the last. 

You’re so wet that the sound of him sliding in and out of your cunt is almost as loud as the noise of his skin slapping against yours. That, combined with the lewd panting and moaning heaving from each of your chests, has the room sounding like you could easily give any porno ever produced a run for its money. 

“Love this pussy so fucking much. Always so fucking wet and tight for me. Whose pussy is this, baby?” Javi asks, his once smug demeanor quickly dissipating as he chokes out his question through gritted teeth, so drunk on you he can barely think straight. 

“Yours! Fuck, fuck fuck- It’s yours, Javi.” You sob, fisting at your bedsheets so tightly, you’re convinced it won’t be long until your knuckles turn white. 

“Fucking right, it is. Fuck you so full of me that I knock you up, make sure- mierda- make sure everyone knows you’re all mine. That what you want, Mami?” 

“Yes, y-yes! Oh fuck- yes! ” 

Javi gets one more smack at your ass before he reaches around to scoop you up from your front, draping his arm across your chest to flush it with his back, never letting the pace of his hips falter. If he wasn’t holding you up, you’re positive you’d be limp, so all consumed by pleasure that it’s engulfed every inch of your body. to keep yourself upright. 

His free arm snakes around to find your clit, whimpering as the pads of his fingers rub tight circles around the bundle of nerves. The undeniable tingle at the base of your spine is beginning to build again, the all too familiar clamping of your cunt around Javi’s cock growing tighter by the second. 

You can all but feel him in your stomach, every inch of him sunk as deep as you can take him, backing your ass into him to counter every snap of his hips. You shoot your hand behind you, digging your nails into whatever part of his thigh you can find to brace yourself on as he fucks into relentlessly, only egged on by the fact he knows how close you are. 

“You got one more for me, baby?” Javi mewls, nipping at your neck while the hot words of his breath dance across your skin. “One more time before I cum so fucking deep inside you?” 

You’re not sure how you even have the capacity to form words, nodding your head in compliance as you try your best to string together something comprehensible as the coil in your stomach winds tighter and tighter. 

“Y-yes, oh fuck- want you to fill me up. Put a baby in me, please, papí.“ 

“Fuck me.” Javi huffs under his breath, furrowing his brow in an intense focus to keep from fulfilling your request preemptively. “Cum for me, Hermosa. Cum all over my cock, and I promise I will.” 

It only takes a few more frantic strokes before you’re collapsing around him, orgasm shooting through your body with such radiating pleasure, you’re not even sure you’re on this earth anymore. The way he’s pinning your nearly limp body to his, pounding into you relentlessly to chase his own high is almost too much, but you’ll take it. You’ll take everything he has to give because it means that you’re his. 

“That’s my girl.” Javi coos, sliding the hand that had been rubbing at your clit up your chest, stopping to wrap around your jaw, just firm enough to dip your head back to rest against his shoulder. “My good fucking girl.” 

His head is buried in the crook of your neck, pants and moans muffled against your skin, growing louder with each snap of his hips, each one more reckless and sloppy than the last. You can barely make out the words he’s mumbling into your ear, his brain just as jumbled as yours as he nears his finish line. 

“I have so much fucking cum for you. Gonna fuck it so deep in you, it’ll- oh fuck- it’ll fucking take. Fill up this pussy with every last- shit- every last fucking drop. Fuck!” 

It’s a low groan that rumbles in his chest first, followed by a strangled whimper that dies somewhere in the back of his throat as his hips stutter, hot ropes of his spend spilling inside of you while he cums. You know he doesn’t dare let a drop go to waste, that he’ll keep his cock stuffed inside your cunt until you’ve milked him of every ounce he has to give. 

And fuck, he wasn’t lying when he said plenty to give. 

You can’t even tell where your body ends and his begins, melded together as one, his length nestled so deep inside you, you can feel all of him pulsing while his seed overflows, leaking out pussy and dripping down your thighs. You know there’s nothing more Javi wants than to keep every last drop inside your cunt, but the best he can do with how much he has to give is to keep fucking it into you, forcing hips to thrust deeper in sync with the heavy heaves of his chest until you’re all but sobbing. 

“It’s- fuck- it’s so much, Javi, fuck-” You whimper, jaw slack at the slick, sticky mess pooling around the base of his cock. 

“Jesus, fuck- I know, baby. I know, but you’re taking me so fucking well.” He coos, softly kissing your neck and shoulder before shifting your body to lay you down, somehow remembering to grab a pillow from his side of the bed to prop under your hips before your back hits the mattress. 

You hiss at the loss of Javi inside you, the sharp breath quickly replaced by a gasp as you the next plop of cum dripping out of your hole caught by Javi’s fingers, sliding up your soaked folds to gently press back into your cunt. He uses the last bit of strength he has to part your legs just enough to make room for his head, leaning down just enough to pepper soft kisses to your clit, trailing up your stomach and chest until he collapses next to you. 

The both of you lay there for a moment in silence, nothing left to fill the room but the post-orgasmic haze you’ve left behind, catching your breath as you try to let your brain sync back up to your body. 

“Javi… Javi, holy fuck.” You huff, the corners of your cheeks turning upwards in a cheeky grin as you roll your head to face him, giggling at the wide eyed, fucked out expression his face still can’t seem to shake. 

“Jesus fucking Christ…” Javi sighs, shaking his head in disbelief before running his hand through the sweat-dampened curls of his hair, prying them from the damp mat they’ve made on his forehead.  

“You came so hard, Jav.” You softly giggle, scooting close enough to lay your cheek against his chest, smiling as he drapes his arm across your back to pull you in closer. 

“Yeah, I know. Fuck, I haven’t cum that hard in a long time.” Javi smirks, fingers drawing gentle patterns on the warm skin of your back. 

“Trying to knock me up really turns you on that much, huh?” You tease, the two of you laughing like you didn’t already know the answer, or that he couldn’t say the same for you. “It’s hot.” 

“Yeah?” Javi asks, biting down on the plush of his lower lip as he raises his eyebrows at you. 

“Mhmmm. You’re already about to be the hottest DILF known to man, makes it that much hotter how badly you want to be a daddy.” 

Even though Javi rolls his eyes at you, trying his best to hide the boyish grin stretched between his cheeks. You snicker at the pink flush of his face, leaning over to leave a lingering kiss on his lips, both your smiles meeting each other’s mouths. 

“Fuck me.” Javi sighs, quietly laughing to himself, carefully brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face. 

“Again? Already? Hate to break it to ya, but I think it’s safe to say you’ve got nothing left in the tank there, Jav.” 

This eye roll makes him grin even harder, supring on your giggles with the ticklish kisses he pecks across your body as payback for your awful joke. 

“You’re such a fucking dork. God, I love you.” 

“Love you more, idiot.”

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

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

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

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

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

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

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

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

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

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

[dilf-docs]

Le Pedí Al Mar Y Al Sol Que Te Trajera

pedro pascal x younger fem!reader

summary: vacations are supposed to be fun! and with a hot older famous boyfriend? now we're really talking.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (yum), pwp, p. in v., fingering, pussy spanking (ooc i'm sorry i just want a man to do this to me), creampie, virgin!reader (sorry if this is kinda unrealistic for a first as i too i'm a virgin; in the curb we all fam), aftercare, spanglish ofc!!!

word count: 2,865 words

side note: so, i modified the request a bit bc idk pedro's friends like that (i just know omar apollo can tower over me wait what). check the og request here. reqs still open as we enter 2025! happy new year, dilf town citizens: pushed this drabble last minute as a lil' gift for you before the year ends! :) thank u sm for being part of it, my journey on tumblr is just getting started!!!!!!!!!!

Hace tiempo que quería yo sentir esto que siento.

They say dating a star and having to share him with everybody else is the hardest part, but to you, it's having both of your vacations occur simultaneously.

Finally, after months of shooting so many projects for the next year, your boyfriend is free.

Vacations are fun! They're supposed to be relaxing, especially after leading such a busy life as yours: juggling between work, studies and a relationship with world-renowned actor, Pedro Pascal. Yet, you can't help but feel nervous, fiddling with the loose strands of your skirt.

Pedro wants you to go alone, which means just the both of you: a little escape before Christmas Eve, as he and his friends have already planned their holiday together.

Doesn't matter how many times you tried to excuse yourself, he was determined to make you go with him. Besides, let's get real: it's not like you can say no to him. So now here he is, both of your passports in hand as you both are ready to board your plane to Mexico, where the rest of his friends will meet you a week later. Yes, more nerves to add on the schedule.

"If you don't quit that shaking of yours, I'll extend our vacation two more weeks" Pedro threatens once you're seated, but it's devoid of any malice. He's a bit far from you (he also insisted on the VIP flying part; you're just fine flying tourist, but can understand why he isn't), so you can't count on his touch to comfort you. "Didn't know you were afraid of planes"

You sigh, "I'm not"

"Ay, cariño. Are you afraid of me then?"

"No" you laugh nervously. You are, but not for the reasons he thinks.

It's the very first time the two of you will be fully alone. For obvious reasons, a whole week at the beach is much more intimate than just the dates you've been in. But here you are, already seeing the sand and water beneath you.

"Like what you see?" he jokes.

"Yeah" you look back at him, sincerity washing over the expression on your face. "I do"

If there is one thing you're sure of, is your love for Pedro. You'll just have to wait and see how this goes.

As of now, everything has gone well: sun, water, diving and lots of new photos and videos on your camera roll. You've gone swimming and danced on the bar of the hotel you're staying, some extra drinks on your system. You've also sunbathed under the same sun you've watched go down, in the most beautiful sunsets you've ever seen in your life.

But here comes the hardest part: the night. Sharing a bed isn't hard: it's something that's happened before, one time even staying in his house for two days, all because he insisted.

This time is different: the way his gaze lingers over your bare legs, the same way he's looked at them when the droplets of water slide down them. The way he licks his lips, like he's starving and the most deliciously tempting meal stands before him. Mantaining eye contact like it's some kind of dare, just as he's done since you've landed, using it to disarm you little by little.

You don't think you can't take it anymore.

You lay down on the bed, and he leaves the book he's reading on the night table next to him, all his attention directed towards you. Yeah, you're afraid, he can sense, but apparently not that afraid to wear a dainty nightwear that gives a delicious peek of your breasts.

"Something you want to say?" you ask, almost daringly so.

"Say no" voice low, barely a whisper that could come across a breeze of wind entering through the open window as it stirs the courtains. "Want, yes"

You gulp. "What do you want, then?"

Shouldn't taken the bait.

"You" comes quick, like it's the easiest answer there ever is.

The rest of his answer comes in the form of hungry lips capturing yours, devouring them in a clash of desire against your own, even struggling to breath due to the animalistic borderline savage way Pedro's eating you out, his tongue battling inside your mouth while trying to explore every corner just to taste all of you on his palate.

"Pedro" you moan his name out when he bites your lip with a bit too much force, metallic filling your taste buds. It's all so hot, and you're too turned on to think.

His roaming hands itch to touch every available spot of soft skin your body offers, tracing first through your collarbones, and then leaving the task for his lips to complete. There goes a trail of kisses that go down your neck, teeth nibbling the sensitive skin until it turns red. You whine against his hold, big hands keeping you under him, back pushed against the soft mattress and silk sheets.

You gasp for air, lost in the fire, when suddenly his forgotten hands touch you down there.

"Wait!" you shout, mentally slapping yourself.

"¿Qué pasó?" he exclaims, scared. "Did I hurt you?"

"N-no" you're quick to deny, voice wavering as you seat up on the bed. Your cheeks soon flush, as there's regret when you say. "I'm sorry"

"Sorry for what?" he tenderly cups your cheek. "Just tell me what happened"

"What happened is, I fucked up the vibe. I'm sorry, P. Didn't mean to stop you like that"

"¿No te estaba gustando, cariño?" he's questioning again.

"No" your answer is more firmly this time. His face morphs into a bit of hurt, and then you think your answer a bit more. "Ah, no. I mean, yes! I was liking it. I meant no as in no, it's not that why I stopped you"

"Then, why is it?" he grows a little impatient, but shows no such thing, rather focused on helping you out. "You know you can trust me, right?"

"I know" you smile sadly, insecurities washing over you like cold water.

"Then, tell me" he scoots closer, his perfume getting in your nostrils. Had he wore it again for this? God, what an evil little horny creature.

"I'm scared" you confess finally, the warmth of his receptiveness giving you a sense of security. His brown eyes soften, and you feel tears brim in the corner of your eyes.

"I know" he repeats your words, kissing you softheartedly, nothing compared to as before.

"No" you look directly at him, ready to take in every reaction his face will have. "I don't think you do"

"Amor, por favor-"

"I'm a virgin" you cut him off, panic rushing your answer.

"You are?" almost immediatly, giving no opportunity for silence to settle in.

You nod, slowly.

He sighs, sounding relieved. "And here I thought you didn't love me. Que te daba asco acostarte con un viejo como yo"

"No!" you deny hastily, then laugh. "Of course I love you, P. On the contrary, I was the one scared. Don't want to fuck it up on my first"

The energy changes again, as a flame sparks within your orbs. He looks surprised.

"Just because I said-" he cuts himself off. "Look, y/n, mi vida. I don't want to force you, yeah? I didn't know you hadn't- Listen, if you aren't ready, I'll understand"

"I am ready" clear and convinced, without a doubt.

His eyes circle between lust and love, "You want me to be your first, mmh baby?"

You nod, and he's back at the kissing and nibbling on your neck and collarbones.

"Please say it"

"I want you, Pedro. Quiero que seas mi primera vez"

Those sweet words of yours, an invitation not even the strongest man could deny.

"Let's start slow, yeah?" his fingers travel down to your panties under the nightwear, removing them and tossing them out of the bed, even with your pout. He kisses it off, wasting no time after to see your clit exposed. "Looking so sweet, angel. And needy" he gets closer, taking a better look at the wet mess that coats in between your thighs. He takes a whiff, intoxicated with the smell of your arousal dripping in waiting need. "Tell me if this is okay, yeah? I'll stop if it hurts"

Your breath hitches the moment his middle finger touches your puffy clit. Pedro runs his finger up and down, not adding much pressure to let you get used to it (kissing and eating each other out was all you had ever done). You whimper at the feeling as he repeats his action a few more times.

"Please, keep going" you plead, barely managing to not squirm at the overwhelming new sensations that shoot right through your cunt.

He begins to rub slow circles, making sure to add the right pressure onto your clit, then circling it, all while keeping eye contact, adoring the new expressions and sounds he's getting from you. You realize and shy away, embarrassed all of the sudden at the way he looks at you.

"Don't" he holds you by your chin with his free hand, "I want to know how you look when I please you"

You whimper, letting him do his own thing. He starts leaving sweet little kisses around your quivering pussy, enjoying the sight of your hole clenching at nothing.

"Think you can take more?" he asks, "want more?"

Two of his fingers dive straight in between your folds, coating them with your juices.

"Good girl" he praises when you only yelp, savouring the new feel of his digits inside of you. Then, he drags his fingers back to his mouth, tongue licking them clean. "Taste so sweet too"

"N-need more" you whine, desperate beneath him.

"Yeah?" This your first and you're already this greedy? I think I can get used to it" he laughs in adoration. "Let's try something better, yeah?"

Your body suddenly jolts, his big palm flat against your pussy. Pedro circles his whole palm across your cunt, middle finger pressing tightly onto it. You moan, back arching at the overstimulation.

He feels a little pervy, enjoying the way your tiny young body squirms beneath his caging body for of him. Nonetheless, he continues to rub you while you release more dirty sounds cascading out fo your filthy greedy lips. Your arousal keeps dripping like a broken pipeline, now smeared all over Pedro's palm, filling the room with slippery sounds.

"Mhm" you can't even speak, the exquisite combination of pain and pleasure reducing you to a moaning mess.

Pedro slaps your pussy twice, wet smacks bouncing off the walls.

"That's my girl" he then gently blows on your swollen bud, pressing a light kiss on it after. "Ready for it?"

It meaning his hard tent hidden under his underwear. You gulp, afraid you might not take it. He sees the hesitation in your eyes, but you're quick to dissmiss it.

"Are you sure you are ready?"

"Just do it" you demand, without knowing the consequences of your words, or the effect you have on him. Overall.

With needy fingers, you're fast to strip him out of it, admiring the size as much as you admire his now sculpted body. Jesus, you could build a cult out of it.

"Now" he cups your cheeks, fingers digging onto the skin, "I want you to look at me when I fuck you, yes? Don't dare to look away"

Pedro positions himself between your legs, aligning himself with your entrance. Then, he thrust inside you, filling you completely. You cry, trying to adjust to his size while your nails dig on his broad back, as he claims you, makes you his. Only his. Pedro'hi's hips snap forward with precision: every thrust is deliberate, each movement calculated to make your first as pleasurable as he can, despite the pain that's shown in your tears or the little drops of blood that fall onto the sheets.

"Shit" he pants, "tendremos que pagar por eso"

He grips your thighs, holding you steady as he pounds into you.

"Fuck, you feel so good" he moans, your tight untouched walls now stretching to adapt to his girth, "like you were made for me"

You cling to him, legs wrapping around his waist as he firmly holds you. Your vision goes foggy, mind numb at the burning and pleasing sensations. Despite that and lack of experience, you meet his every thrust, your bodies moving as one.

Your core contracts around him with every motion. "You fuck me so good" you mewl, music to his ears.

"I know, baby" he chuckles, "sólo lo mejor para mi princesa"

Fingers dig into your skin as he guides you with precision, right as he wants you to be. You feel the intensity of his deep inside of you with every movement, his hot laboured breath against your ear.

"Doing it so good" his voice is low, almost a growl, sending shivers down your spine. "Just for me"

"Just for you" you mindlessly pant out, the sensation of having all of him inside you, nothing separating the skin from skin, igniting a fire that spreads through your core. Your breasts bounce with each motion, Pedro's eyes never leaving yours, dark orbs locked onto your gaze as you urge him to go faster, drawing in a sharp breath as your body adjusts to the new rhythm he's providing, rapidly obeying.

The room is quiet except for the sound of your bodies clashing onto one another, flesh against flesh echoing softly.

"Your body is perfect, so wet, so tight for me" His words send a wave of pleasure crashing over you, making you moan loudly, your head falling back, "me tienes loco"

Pedro's weight grounds you as he begins to thrust deeply, each movement deliberate and unrelenting.

"Tell me you want this, us" the words catch you off guard. "Will you take all of me?"

"Yes" without a thought or doubt, answering as you whine and clutch at his shoulders with his more urgent thrusts. "All of you, always"

You notice his hips snapping forward, more energy as he pounts into you. "Good girl" praising you again, voice thick in arousal and rough, "so good for me"

Despite being your first, you can feel what would be your orgasm building, closer and closer until there is no holding it back.

"Pedro!" you scream his name, body collapsing around him as you come, stars reaching your closed eyelids.

His movements become more intense and sloppier, breathing ragged as he chases his own release.

"Espérame. Stay there for me"

You cling to him, legs wrapping tighter as he continues to pound into you. "Ya casi" his thrusts become erratic as he nears his climax, "almost there, baby"

You feel his body tensing as he comes inside you with a deep groan, seed spilling into you without wasting a drop.

"That's right" whispers against your sweet neck roughly, voice breaking as he collapses over you, trying to level his breathing. "Eres mía, only mine"

You're whimpering, body exhausted from the whole session you had.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Just tired" you sigh, "but I don't think I can walk"

"We'll get you a wheelchair someway" he jokes.

"You think is funny? Ruining my holidays?"

He leans down to press a sweet kiss on your forehead. "Come on, we'll get you cleaned up" you mumble out a tired no, but Pedro's picking you up with his strong arms, taking your body to the bathroom. You wrap your legs instinctively around his waist, face hidden in the crook of his neck.

"You know what? Your fans were right: you do have a slutty little waist" you mock.

"Right" he blushes, embarrased as he takes you inside the bathroom, then placing you on top of the toilet. "Open up, baby" he grabs some tissues, trying to clean up the mess you've made between your legs. "Así, justo así, bebé" he parts your hair to the side lovingly, fixing it for you before pressing a kiss on the crown of your head. "Done, my pretty baby, look at you"

You hum, eyes threatening to close.

"I see you're not an after-sex talker. Come on, I'll take you back to bed" he picks you up again, your head leaning against Pedro's V line as he caresses your head. "Hope you don't mind the smell"

"I love how you smell" you mumble out in a drunk like state.

"Okay then" he chuckles, "let's go back to bed" taking you out of the room, gently placing you the mattress. He then pulls a pair of fresh panties from your suitcase, dressing you in them. He coos at the sight of you, sleeping peacefully despite what you did before.

He finally lays next to you, lovingly lifting up your arm to put it around his waist. He pulls the sheets over your bodies to keep you both warm, in the chilly room thanks to the beach's air.

He feels you move, snuggling closer to his chest to seek warmth.

"I love you" whispered, not expecting you to answer or hear it.

When you snuggle closer, he's sure you do.

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @a7estrellas

[pascaldiaries]

IM CRYING

[tagged-by-trauma]

Stay quiet, darlin'

He was your father's best friend, but that didn't stop you from sneaking into your bedroom while your father was downstairs. Pairing: dbf!Joel x f!reader Warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), age gap, softdom!joel/subby!reader, teasing, dirty talk, protected sex (sorry not sorry), p in v sex, pussy slapping (one time), slight aftercare, cuddling Word count: 3.6k

You knew it was wrong for a number of reasons. He was a lot older than you, grumpy and he almost never looked at you when you passed by. But most of all, he was your father’s best friend since they were in elementary school. They were always hanging around each other, sometimes they were like brothers. When something happened, they were there and you always saw them in a different light. Your father, who raised you up to the woman you are today, and his friend, who saw this whole journey.

He saw when you were learning how to ride a bike for the very first time. He was looking after you when your father had to go on a work-trip, helping you with your geography homework and he was always like a second father to you. Until this small connection between you took a whole turn.

You started going to college and started to change. Your appearance became similar to the other girls, your curves developing every year. The girly clothes in your wardrobe were changed to more elegant and minimalist ones, and you were a lot more confident in some situations, and shyer in others.

But every summer when you went home you could see Joel’s gaze shift. His eyes raked over your body like he was seeing you for the first time, but you could feel them burning your skin where they tracked a path. He saw that you weren’t that little girl anymore, and that fact made you feel something deep down in your heart.

But everything changed forever between you on a warm summer night.

It was your father’s idea. Watching a basketball match like in the good old days. And you agreed. Of course you agreed. But he didn’t tell you that he also invited Joel.

“I thought it would be amazing if we could spend some time together. And he said he didn’t have anything to do tonight,” your father’s words still echoed in your ears as you were getting ready. You pulled out your favourite summer dress with small flowers on it, and let your hair down, it’s waves cascading down your shoulders.

You were sitting on the couch when you heard three firm knocks on the door. You looked to your left, gaze falling on the clock hanging from the wall. 6:47 pm.

“Can you get it?” your father yelled from the kitchen while he was preparing the snacks and the beers. You slowly stood up, adjusted the hem of your dress, and walked slowly to the door. When you opened it, Joel was standing there, his hand raised to knock again, when his eyes locked with yours. He had a checked shirt on with old jeans on, a six pack of beers in his left hand. His hair was longer than you’d remembered, and gray hairs could be seen scattered around. His expression was unreadable, but you saw his eyes flicker down to your body for just a mere second.

“Hey,” he said with a low voice and a shiver ran down your body. His voice seemed lower than the last time you’ve seen him.

“Hey, come in,” you steeped to the side so he could come in, and as he took a step inside he brushed against you, the smell of him hitting your nose. It was something like wood, leather and something else that you couldn’t really name but your brain has strongly associated it with him.

“I brought some beer. Didn’t know if there would be enough,” he held up the pack in his hands and you nodded. You looked back up and your gaze met his, eyes so dark that it made a blush creep to your cheeks. As you opened your mouth to answer him, you heard footsteps behind you from the hallway, and you both broke the eye contact, glancing in the direction of your father as he emerged.

“Joel, finally,” your father took his hand and gave it a hard and firm shake. You watched the interaction from the side, catching the faint smile in the corner of Joel’s lips. “You bought extra beer?”

“Didn’t know if we needed more. Though I think ahead,” he held out the six pack to him, and your father took it. You crossed your arms in front of you and when you saw Joel look down for just a moment, you smirked and gave him a subtle wink—one that your father didn’t notice. He quickly averted his gaze, his posture going rigid as he followed your dad inside the living room.

You were still standing there in front of the door, thinking about the gaze he just gave you, and how he just basically checked you out in front of your father. Subtle. Very subtle. Yeah, things definitely changed between you with the years. And you couldn’t help but anticipate what this night will hold for both of you.

—-—

The match was blasting on the TV, the light from it illuminating the otherwise dark room, coffee table full of snacks and beer. You were sitting on the single armchair, legs under you, hand propping your face up, the other wrapped around a cold beer in your lap. Your father was sitting on the couch; eyes fully focused on the screen and the player who just threw a basket. And Joel. Joel was sitting to his right, closer to you, slightly slouched down the soft material of the furniture. His left hand was wrapped around the head of his beer, his right behind his head.

Your eyes averted from the TV to his form and you couldn’t help but basically drool at the sight of him. Here in the light the gray hairs were more prominent in his hair and beard, the shirt now unbuttoned at the top—showing the white t-shirt underneath. He lifted the bottle to his lips and took a big gulp, your eyes travelling down to his neck—the bob of his Adam’s apple.

He was completely engrossed in the match but when he felt something like a burning sensation he looked to his right. He caught the way you looked at him and smirked at you. When you pulled back your gaze to his face, you noticed that he was already staring at you. But now, instead of turning away embarrassed, you held the eye contact, holding your head up high. His smirk turned even smugger. The sudden movements of your father broke the little trance, and you finally turned your head back to the TV.

When the match came to the half-time you stood up and placed your empty bottle of beer on the coffee table. Your father and Joel looked at you with a questioning gaze but you just shrugged.

“I’m feeling a little sleepy so, I think I’ll go and get some sleep,” you lied, stretching towards the ceiling, dress riding up your thigh, exposing even more skin. You saw Joel’s jaw flex, eyes trying to stay on your face.

“Are you alright?” your father asked, completely oblivious to the little connection between you and Joel.

“Yes, just a bit tired,” your father nodded at your response, and reached for his phone, settling further into the couch. You winked at Joel and went to the kitchen to fill a cup with water. Halfway through you heard heavy footsteps behind you but didn’t look back. But then a heavy presence loomed behind you, and you stopped in your tracks. You felt his hot breath against the back of your neck, his arms caging you between his body and the counter.

“If you woulda kept lookin’ at me like that, darlin’, I don’t think I would have lasted through the whole night,” he growled in your ear, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. You placed the water on the counter and slowly turned around to face him. First his broad chest came into the level of your eyes, but when his hand came up and cupped your jaw gently, forcing you to look up, you were met with a dark pair of eyes burning low with desire.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” you whispered innocently, batting your eyelashes at him.

“Oh, darlin’. Don’t play the innocent to me. You know exactly what I’m talking ‘bout,” he leaned closer, his breath mingling with yours. “And doin’ it while your daddy’s sittin’ next to me?” he chuckled, and you grew redder and redder with every word that was leaving his lips. His hand came to your waist, squeezing down softly.

“And what will you do about it?” you smirked up at him, your hands coming to rest on his chest. His eyes flicked down for a second, and you could see the shift in them.

“Oh, trust me, darlin’, you don’t wanna know.”

“And what if I do?” as soon as you finished your sentence his mouth found yours with a slow tenderness that you didn’t expect from him. His body moved even closer to you, lips fighting each other for dominance. He leaned forward, and with a simple move he picked you up and placed you on the counter. Your hands tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, while his found your cheek. You could feel his hardening length pressing against your thigh, and you smiled into the kiss. In this moment you completely forgot about your father in the next room, but when you heard footsteps you quickly moved away and jumped off the counter trying to fix your appearance.

“Oh, I thought you said you were going to sleep,” your father appeared in the doorway, his look moving back and forth between you and Joel.

“Uhm, yes, just needed some water.”

“Right. And you?” your father now dedicated his question to Joel, moving to one of the cupboards.

“Just came for another beer,” his voice was a bit gravelly, but his stance went back to his normal state.

“I might take another one too,” he smiled at both of you, and you picked up your water from the counter and looked at your father.

“Then I just go. Enjoy the rest of the match, guys,” you walked past your dad, sparing a final glance at Joel, who looked after you with hunger in his eyes. Your father was too busy with whatever he was searching in the cupboard, so you took the chance and winked at Joel.

“Later. My room,” you mouthed to him, and smiled as he subtly lowered his hand and adjusted himself in his pants.

—-—

It took him a whole hour.

You were laying in bed when you heard the unmistakable sound of his boots on the hardwood, and you smirked at the ceiling. Next three firm but quiet knocks came down on your door. You got up, walked to it, and opened it. Joel was standing there, hands in his pockets, gaze fixed on the stairs. When he heard the soft creak of the door he looked up, and his breath caught in his throat.

You already took off your sundress and dressed into soft black shorts and a white tank top. You didn’t bother to put on any bra, you knew it would have been unnecessary. Especially with him. When you saw the expression on his face, clear satisfaction creeped into your mind.

“Like something you see?” you asked with a cheeky tone, and he looked at you in disbelief.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him without a noise, and the next thing you know, you were caged between his arms. “You don’t even know how much. That little sundress of yours tonight? Drove me fuckin’ crazy,” he captured your lips with his, and you let out a quiet gasp at the sudden contact. You melted into his arms, and you let him carry you to the bed.

One of your hands found the back of his neck while the other grasped the shirt on his chest. His were roaming all across your body, caressing your hair, cheeks, waist, hands tightening when he reached your hips. You moaned into his mouth, and he used this little moment to slip his tongue inside your mouth. He let out a growl, and unconsciously moved his hips forward, making you throw your head back. His lips left yours and traced gentle kisses along your jaw and the curve of your neck. You were holding on tightly to his shoulder. When his hand reached for the hem of your shirt he pulled back and looked at you, asking for permission. And that’s when it all hit you. Your father was just downstairs, watching the TV.

“Joel. My father—”

“Don’t worry ‘bout him, darlin’,” he continued to pepper your throat with kisses, occasionally nipping at the skin.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s so drunk that he decided to bake cookies,” he looked into your eyes, caressing your hair.

“Cookies? At—” you looked to the clock on your bedside table. “At 9:24 pm?”

“As I said, darlin’, he’s really drunk. I’m pretty sure, he’ll fall asleep in the first five minutes, although…” he searched your eyes again, and when you nodded, he pulled off the tank top. “Although that doesn’t mean you won’t have to stay quiet,” he threw away the top, not bothering to look where it lands. “Fuck, look at you, darlin’,” his gaze dropped to your breasts and lingered there.

His mouth connected with your throat again, moving lover and lover with every kiss. He traced a path between your breasts, and when he took one nipple in his mouth you threw your head back against your pillow, stifling a moan. His tongue was dancing around the hardened peak, his hand coming up and playing with your other one. You arched your back when he started sucking. When he felt satisfied, he moved to your other nipple, giving it the same treatment.

He moved lower on your body, but you pulled him back up by his shoulder. He looked at you confused, parted his lips to say something but you drowned the words into him by reaching for his belt buckle.

“We don’t have time, Joel,” as soon as the words left your lips he reached for your shorts and pulled them down with a rough tug, leaving you only in your panties laying under him. Your hands moved with a quiet determination, shaking softly by the weight of the moment. He took them and squeezed down softly.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, darlin’,” he reached down to unbuckle his belt himself, and you leaned up on your elbows to watch him. You could see the prominent bulge through the fabric of his jeans. He tucked his hand in his back pocket and took out a condom. You looked at him in disbelief and surprise.

“You kept a condom in your back pocket while my father was sitting next to you?”

“Gotta be prepared, darlin’,” he tugged down his briefs, and his cock sprang free. You looked at it with a quiet awe and a bit intimidated by the size of him. As he opened the small packet, and rolled the condom on, he noticed your expression.

“Don’t worry. We’ll gotta make it fit,” you nodded at him. He let out a quiet chuckle, and tugged your panties to the side, his fingers tracing the completely soaked fabric. “Fuck, darlin’, you’re so wet already,” he ran his fingers up and down, his fingers drawing slow circles over your clit. You couldn’t hold back anymore and let out a moan.

“Joel—” he stopped in his tracks, his hand coming down on your thigh with a soft strike. You gasped, and looked at him, whimpering.

“What did I say ‘bout keepin’ quiet, baby?” he soothed over the slightly reddened skin while you reached for his cock. He took your hand and brought it up over your head, pinning it to the mattress. His other reached for his length, tip leaking with precum and almost purple under the low light. He lined himself up with your entrance and looked at you for a final confirmation. When you nodded, he smiled at you and gave you a quick kiss. “Stay quiet, darlin’.”

He slowly eased himself inside you. The stretch at first was making you wince, and after he released you hand you dig your nails into his clothed back. He leaned next to your ear, and he groaned by the sudden warmness and tightness. When he fully bottomed out, the stretch turned into pleasure, and he looked at your face.

“You alright, darlin’?”

“Yes, just… Please move, Joel,” to emphasize your words, you slowly circled your hips. He pulled out and with one quick move he thrusted into you. He set the pace and moved in and out of you like his life depended on it. You were trying to stay quiet, but it was almost impossible. And that’s how it happened that you let out a strangled cry of his name. And Joel? Joel suddenly stopped, pulled out of you. You whined at the sudden loss of contact, but when the tip of his cock came down on your clit, you arched your back off the bed.

“What did I say, darlin’? Do you want your daddy to hear us?” you shook your head, and he contently nodded. Then he lined himself up again and buried in you in one thrust. Now he didn’t stop his pace, didn’t pull away, but his hand came over your mouth to stifle your moans and cries.

“Fuck, darlin’. You’re so fuckin’ tight. Your lil’ pussy’s squeezin’ me so deliciously,” you were a writhing mess under him, and he was relentless. You felt the muscles in his shoulder and back tense with every move, his voice in your ear intensified by the moment. When he saw you were close to the edge, he moved his hand down between your bodies and found your clit. His thumb circled the little bundle of nerves, his pace quickening if that was possible.

“Come for me, darlin’. Let me feel you clench around my cock,” as soon as his words reached your brain, you were gone. Your orgasm shattered like an old vase on the ground, and with a last cry you clenched down around him. He talked you through it, whispering and groaning into your ear. Just a few seconds after you his rhythm faltered, thrusts getting messy and sloppy, and with a final move he buried himself to the hilt and came with a quiet growl. His body was tensed up, and he collapsed on you, careful not to put too much pressure. Your hand came up to comb through his salt and pepper hair, and you let out a content little sigh.

“Jesus, girl,” he murmured into your bare chest. “I think I just threw my back out,” you laughed at his comment, and he squeezed your waist.

“Old man,” you murmured under your breath.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you breathed too quickly, and he looked at you suspiciously but left it at that.

When you both felt like you could move again, he climbed off of you, his now limp cock sliding out of you, and a whimper leaving your lips at the emptiness you felt in that moment. You leaned up on your elbow, watching as he pulled off the condom and tied it with a firm knot. He threw it into the bin next to your bed and pulled back up his briefs and jeans.

“I should go down and check on your father. Hopefully he didn’t burn down the kitchen,” you chuckled and looked at his disheveled form.

“Wait,” he looked at you confused when you reached for the little mirror in your bedside drawer. You held it out for him.

“For your hair,” he nodded and took it, looking at himself and the soft curls that were now completely messy. “I have to say I wasn’t very careful with my hands.”

“It’s alright, darlin’,” he combed through his hair, flattening down the waves at the back of his neck and the top of his head. You were looking at him still sprawled out on your bed, still half-naked. He handed back the mirror and gave you a small smile. With a final kiss, he went out your door, and minutes later you could hear him helping your father into his own bedroom. You laid back, and looked at the ceiling, replaying everything that just happened.

Yeah, it was definitely not a one-time thing.

—-—

Later that night, close to midnight you heard your phone hum with a new text, and you immediately picked it up. When you saw it was Joel your stomach did a little flip, and you blushed at his message.

Joel: Thank you for tonight, darling! You: Are you really thanking me? Joel: Why? Is that a bad thing? You: No, just unusual.

For a few moments the three little points were popping up on your screen then disappearing. You thought that maybe he won’t text back, but the phone lit up in your hand again.

Joel: Are you free on Friday? Maybe like 7:00 pm? You: It depends. What are you planning to do? Joel: It’s a secret. But you can trust me, darling! You: Then I’m free. Oh, and my father won’t be home, he is going on a work trip again. Joel: Amazing! Then I’ll pick you up! Good night, darling! You: Good night, Joel!

Safe to say, you fell asleep that night quiet easily. The happenings of the day and the exhaustion was catching up to you, but surely the last thing you saw before the darkness consumed you was Joel’s face and those beautiful dark brown orbs.

[iamasaddie]

Joel Miller picking you up for a post-outbreak date <3

[honeyandruin]

Idle Hands - Auto Shop Teacher!Joel Miller x Reader : PART TWO

🔧 ✦ 🔩 ✦ 🔧 ✦ 🔩 ✦ 🔧 ✦ 🔩 ✦ 🔧 ✦ 🔩 ✦ 🔧 ✦ 🔩

Pairing: Auto Shop Teacher!Joel Miller x Reader (college AU)

Summary: Part two of Idle Hands as so many have requested. After the night in your car, you tried to believe it was a mistake (and failed). But back in class, the tension is impossible to ignore—and when jealousy gets the better of him, you both learn you were never going to stop.

Warnings: 18+ only. MINORS DNI. Age gap, explicit sexual content, JEALOUS JOOOOEL BABY, unprotected sex, choking, rough sex, possessive Joel, teacher/student dynamic, praise & degradation, power imbalance, aftercare.

Word count: 3k (please don’t hate me that it’s a shorter one than the usuals)

A/N : I tried tagging everyone who asked to be tagged, and if it didn’t work, I’m so sorry!

🔧 ✦ 🔩 ✦ 🔧 ✦ 🔩 ✦ 🔧 ✦ 🔩 ✦ 🔧 ✦ 🔩 ✦ 🔧 ✦ 🔩

The shop smells like motor oil and old concrete.

You stand in the doorway a beat longer than you mean to, gripping the strap of your bag so hard your fingers ache.

Joel is already there, the hood of a rusted-out sedan propped open in front of him. He’s bent over the engine bay, forearms braced on the frame, jaw dark with stubble.

When he straightens, you swear he feels you watching him. His head turns—just slightly—and your eyes catch.

For a second, everything from last week floods back at once: the heat of his mouth, the low sound he made when you begged. The way he’d buried his face against your throat and whispered the filthiest things you’d ever heard.

He doesn’t look away.

His gaze drags down your front—like he just can’t help it—and when he drags it back up again, something in his expression flickers.

He’s trying to be neutral. Professional. But he isn’t ignoring you. And that almost makes it worse.

You take a slow breath, moving to your usual workbench. He watches you go, wiping his hands on a rag he keeps tucked in his back pocket.

“Morning,” he says, voice low. It’s the first time he’s spoken to you since he left you in your car with your hands still shaking.

Your heart beats too fast. “Hi.”

He hesitates like he wants to say something else. But the classroom door bangs open behind you—other students filing in, heavy boots echoing across the concrete—and whatever he was going to say dies before it can reach you.

You drop your bag on the stool, pulling out your notes and trying not to fidget.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him watching you a moment longer before he clears his throat and calls the class to order.

“Alright,” Joel says, voice steady but quieter than usual. “Listen up.”

He shifts his weight, bracing one hand on the edge of the workbench, the other still worrying that rag.

“For your final project, you’re gonna do a complete brake system overhaul. Pads, rotors, calipers—front and rear. You’ll bleed the lines, verify pressure, and log every step. If it doesn’t stop on the test drive, you fail.”

Someone groans behind you.

“Yeah,” Joel says flatly. “That’s the point. It’s meant to be hard.”

He sets the rag aside, crossing his arms over his chest. “If you have questions, you ask. Don’t guess. Don’t half-ass. And don’t touch anything you’re not ready to finish.”

His eyes flick to yours again—just for a beat—and your stomach flips.

“Get started,” he says, voice low. “I’ll be around.”

The group breaks apart in a shuffle of boots and muttered complaints. You exhale slowly and pick your way toward your assigned bay, heart thudding.

You spend the next half hour working in silence, carefully removing the first caliper. You can feel Joel nearby—hear the scrape of his boots, the low murmur of his voice as he checks on the others—but he doesn’t come over to you.

You’re trying to focus. Really. But the memory of his mouth on your skin keeps blurring the edges of everything.

That’s probably why you don’t notice Kyle until he’s too close.

“Careful,” he says, leaning an elbow on your bench. “You’re gonna strip the bolt if you keep wrenching it like that.”

You pause, glancing at the caliper bracket in your hands. “No, I’m not. I’m backing it off a half turn at a time so I don’t crack it.”

He smirks, ignoring you. “If you want, I could help you after class. Maybe go over it together? Over dinner?”

Heat crawls up your neck, part embarrassment, part annoyance. You set the part down carefully, wiping your hands on a rag.

“I’m good.”

“You sure?” He tilts his head, smile widening. “No offense, but it looks like you’re struggling. Wouldn’t want you to mess it up.”

“She’s not.”

You both turn.

Joel is standing a few feet away, arms folded tight across his chest. He’s not pretending to check the other bays anymore. He’s just watching.

Kyle shifts, trying for casual. “Yeah, I just thought—”

“You thought wrong,” Joel cuts in, voice low. “She’s doing it right. Let her work.”

Something in his tone makes Kyle’s smile flicker. He glances at you like he expects you to jump in. When you don’t, he huffs a little laugh and backs away.

“Whatever you say.”

You don’t look up until Kyle’s gone. When you finally meet Joel’s eyes, they’re darker than before—something quiet and furious simmering underneath.

“You don’t need him,” he says, voice rough.

“I know.”

He holds your stare a second longer. Then he pushes off the beam, turns, and walks away—like he has to physically remove himself before he does something about it.

***

The rest of the afternoon drags.

You try to keep your head down, focused on reassembling the caliper and logging each step in your notes. But every time you glance up, Joel is there—never watching directly, but close enough you feel it anyway.

You can tell he’s making himself stay occupied. Finding excuses to check inventory, update paperwork, do anything that keeps him from looking too long.

And you hate how much you like it.

By the time the clock above the door clicks past six, the last of the class is packing up, slamming their lockers shut. Someone mutters a goodbye on the way out. Another kid laughs, cursing about how much his hands hurt.

You pretend to be absorbed in double-checking your torque specs, but your heart is hammering.

You don’t look up until the door closes behind them.

Then it’s just you. And him.

Joel is at the desk again, one hand braced on the top, his other rubbing slow over the back of his neck. He looks tired. Not the usual end-of-the-day tired—something deeper, heavier.

You wipe your hands on a clean rag and gather your notes, forcing yourself to move like nothing feels different. Like the room isn’t too quiet. Like the memory of his mouth on your skin isn’t still playing behind your eyes.

Your boots scuff over the concrete as you cross to his desk.

He doesn’t look up.

“I finished the checklist,” you say, voice softer than you mean it to be.

He flips a page in the logbook, staring at it without reading. “Leave it there.”

Your pulse thuds in your throat. “Joel.”

Nothing. Just the tick of the old clock above the tool cabinet.

“I don’t—” You hesitate. “I don’t want this to feel like a mistake.”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t lift his gaze. “It was a mistake.”

You swallow, fingers flexing on the edge of his desk. “You didn’t look like you thought that at the time.”

He drags a hand over his mouth, exhaling slow. “Don’t.”

You take a step closer. The air between you feels too thin.

“You don’t mean it,” you whisper.

He lifts his head then, finally meeting your eyes—and whatever you were braced for, it isn’t that look.

Wrecked.

His hand curls into a fist on the desk. “You think this is what you want?”

You don’t back down. “I know it is.”

He shakes his head, rough and disbelieving. “You don’t.”

Your voice drops, steady and soft. “Then show me.”

His breath shudders out. For a long second, he just looks at you—like he’s waiting for you to take it back. Like he’s hoping you will.

You don’t.

And that’s when he moves.

He comes around the desk in three slow steps. Stops just shy of touching you, so close you have to tip your head back to meet his eyes.

His hand lifts—hesitates—then finds your jaw. His thumb drags along the edge of your mouth, the touch so careful it makes your heart ache.

“You have no idea what you’re asking me for,” he says, voice low and ruined.

Your heart hammers so loud you’re sure he can hear it. His thumb drags across your lower lip, callused and warm, and you see the moment something in him fractures.

“I’m asking you to fuck me,” you breathe.

He goes still. Completely, utterly still.

A ragged sound tears out of his throat—half growl, half plea—and then his mouth crashes down onto yours.

The kiss isn’t careful. It isn’t soft. It’s all teeth and heat and desperation, the kind of kiss that feels like it’s been clawing at him for weeks. His hands find your hips, dragging you into him so hard you lose your breath.

“Jesus,” he mutters against your mouth, voice hoarse, like he hates himself for how good this feels. “Fuck—”

You don’t give him time to second-guess it. Your hands slide up under the hem of his work shirt, feeling the heat of his skin, the hard planes of his stomach. He shudders when your nails scrape lightly over the trail of hair leading lower.

“Goddamn it,” he rasps, and without breaking the kiss, he reaches past you.

The heavy thunk of the deadbolt sliding home is deafening in the hush.

He keeps his mouth sealed on yours, like he can’t bear to stop touching you long enough to think about what he’s doing.

He walks you backward, slow but unrelenting, until your hips hit the edge of the nearest workbench. The cold metal bites through your coveralls. You gasp, and he swallows the sound, groaning into your mouth like it’s killing him.

His hands are everywhere—palming your ass, squeezing your hips, dragging up your ribs. When he finds the zipper at your chest, he hesitates for just a heartbeat.

“You sure?” he mutters, voice wrecked. “You fuckin’ sure?”

“Please,” you whisper.

That’s all it takes.

He tugs the zipper down in one slow pull, the rasp of it loud in the quiet. His palm slides over your chest, thumb brushing the thin fabric of your bra. The contact makes your knees threaten to buckle.

“You have any idea,” he growls, mouth hot against your throat, “what you do to me?”

You try to answer, but he’s already dragging his mouth lower—nipping at the side of your neck, the curve where it meets your shoulder. His free hand rucks the coveralls down your hips, bunching them at your thighs. You feel the rough scrape of his calluses on bare skin, and the noise that slips out of you is embarrassingly needy.

“Look at you,” he mutters, lips brushing your ear. “All fuckin’ sweet now. All mine.”

You drag your hands up his chest, fisting the collar of his shirt to keep yourself steady. He catches your wrists, pins them to the workbench behind you, and holds you there like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

“You think that little shit had a chance with you?” His voice drops lower, almost a snarl. “You think I was gonna stand there and watch him touch what’s mine?”

The possessiveness in his tone makes your breath stutter. “Joel—”

“That what you want?” he demands, words hot and ragged against your mouth. “Some fuckin’ boy who doesn’t know what to do with you?”

“No,” you gasp, thighs clenching around his hips. “Want you.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, like it’s breaking him to hear it. “You fuckin’ do.”

He lets your wrists go—only to shove your coveralls the rest of the way down. The cold air kisses your skin, and he palms your ass, dragging you flush against the thick line of his cock straining his jeans.

“Feel that?” He grinds against you, making you whimper. “That’s what you do to me. Every time you look at me like you want it.”

Your hips rock into his, chasing the friction. “Please.”

“Yeah,” he mutters, voice rough, “gonna give it to you, baby.”

He kisses you again, messy and deep, while his hand drags between your legs. When his fingers find how wet you are, he groans like he’s in pain.

“Fuck me,” he rasps, pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re drippin’.”

His fingers slide through the slick heat, circling your clit just hard enough to make you bite your lip. He watches every reaction like he can’t look away.

“You want me to take my time,” he mutters, thumb pressing harder, “or you want it fast?”

“Fast,” you gasp. “Please—I—”

He cuts you off with a low, filthy laugh. “Course you do.”

He doesn’t waste another second. One hand fists in your hair, tilting your head so he can kiss you again while the other tugs at his belt, freeing himself. The blunt head of his cock bumps your thigh, hot and heavy, and your breath breaks.

He flips you before you can think, palms flattening between your shoulder blades, pressing you down against the cold workbench.

“Stay,” he growls, his voice so deep it scrapes something raw out of you.

You brace yourself, fingers curling around the metal edge, and look back over your shoulder.

His eyes meet yours—dark, starved—and something in them flickers.

“Gonna fuck you so good you forget about every other man,” he mutters. “Gonna fill you up so full you remember you’re mine.”

He drags the head of his cock through the slick between your thighs, teasing you just long enough that you whine.

“Say it,” he rasps, hips nudging forward, the stretch already making your vision blur. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“You,” you choke out, voice breaking. “You—fuck—”

“That’s right,” he breathes, sinking deeper. “All fuckin’ mine.”

When he bottoms out, his hand wraps around the front of your throat, tilting your head back so he can hear every gasp. His hips pull back—and when he slams forward again, the sound it makes is obscene.

Your fingers slip on the workbench. His grip tightens around your throat—just enough to hold you steady—and his other hand slides over your hip, guiding you back to meet each punishing thrust.

“Christ,” he mutters, voice ragged. “So tight—so fuckin’ sweet for me.”

You whimper, every thrust sending sparks up your spine.

“That little shit,” he pants, hips snapping harder. “Thought he could even touch you—”

He drags his hand lower, finding your clit, rubbing rough circles that make your knees buckle.

“Tell me,” he growls, breath hot in your ear. “Tell me who makes you come.”

“You,” you cry, voice splintering. “God—Joel—please—”

“That’s right,” he breathes, voice cracking. “Only me.”

The pressure builds so fast you can’t think. Can’t breathe. His cock drives into you, relentless, and you know you’re close—so close—

“Come on, baby,” he groans, thumb pressing harder, pace turning erratic. “Come for me.”

Your vision goes white. You shatter around him, hips jerking back into his as your orgasm crashes through you—hot, blinding, unstoppable.

He doesn’t stop. Keeps thrusting through it, hips snapping against your ass, low curses pouring from his mouth.

“Fuck—gonna fill you up—”

You can feel every ragged breath, every shudder, right before he finally spills inside you with a rough, broken sound.

When it’s over, he stays there—forehead against your spine, breath gusting across your skin.

As the last tremor leaves your body, you collapse forward onto your elbows, cheek pressed against the cool metal.

Joel doesn’t move for a second. Just stays bent over you, his hand splayed wide across your stomach, breathing like he’s just run every mile he’s ever owed.

After a moment, he drags in a shaky breath. His palm slides up, brushing the underside of your breast, lingering like he’s memorizing the shape of you.

“You okay?” he murmurs, voice wrecked.

You nod, your throat too tight to speak.

He slips free with a low groan and tugs your coveralls up enough to give you a shred of modesty. Then his hand cups the back of your neck, warm and heavy, like he can’t stop touching you even if he tried.

“C’mere,” he says softly.

You let him help you turn around. Your legs are unsteady, and he notices—his big hand bracing your hip until you’re upright. You can’t look at his face for a second. Not when you feel so wrung out. So full.

His thumb drags along your jaw. “Look at me.”

You do.

His eyes flick over your face, something complicated and unspoken in them. Guilt, maybe. Hunger that hasn’t faded. A tenderness you weren’t ready for.

“You wanna come by my place?” he asks, voice low. “Get cleaned up…maybe eat something?”

Your heart does something traitorous in your chest. “Yeah. I—yeah.”

His mouth twitches like he’s trying not to smile. “Good.”

He steps back, adjusting himself and tucking himself away with one hand, moving like a man who knows he’s going to hell and still can’t bring himself to care. He re-zips your coveralls, slow and deliberate, his knuckles brushing the tender skin of your chest.

When he’s done, he smooths the zipper flat. His thumb grazes the little metal pull tab.

“You got a dorm room, right?” he says, trying for casual and failing. “Probably not a lot of privacy there.”

You huff a laugh, still a little dazed. “Tiny. Thin walls. You’d be…pretty hard to hide.”

He lifts a brow, mouth tugging at the corner. “Yeah? You think I’m worth hiding?”

“Think you’re worth a lot more than that,” you murmur.

A groan rumbles in his chest—soft but unmistakable. He dips his head, pressing his mouth to yours, slower this time. Not careful, exactly. But different.

When he finally pulls back, he nods toward the door. “C’mon. I’ll drive.”

You trail him toward the door, your heart still tripping over itself.

Just as he unlocks the deadbolt and pulls the handle, you clear your throat.

“So…” you say, voice small but teasing, “does this mean I pass?”

Joel goes still.

Then—very slowly—he looks back at you over his shoulder. His eyes are still dark, but there’s something softer there now.

“No,” he says, voice low. “Means you’re gonna need a lot more practice.”

And before you can think of something smart to say, he leans in and kisses you again—like he already can’t wait to fail you all over.

🔧 ✦ 🔩 ✦ 🔧 ✦ 🔩 ✦ 🔧 ✦ 🔩 ✦ 🔧 ✦ 🔩 ✦ 🔧 ✦ 🔩

Here is the second part that yall asked for! I hope I did yalls requests some justice. @boscogirlsworld, @pixieeee101, @glitterspark & @kaseynsfws 💚🫶🏻