#pedro pascal x plus size reader

[andy-15-07]

Can you make a smutty or a hot fan fic of a VS model and an aspiring actress on an interview and she was asked who is her celebrity crush, she says the one and only Pedro and they meet at the met gala where she looks breathtaking and how it goes from there

You Had Me at Met

PAIRING:Pedro Pascal x reader

WORD COUNT: 1264| requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist | Pedro Pascal Masterlist II

The studio lights were warm on your skin, your silk dress catching the gleam as you crossed your legs on the plush interview couch. The host smiled, sipping his coffee dramatically, and then leaned forward.

“Okay, last rapid-fire question before we wrap,celebrity crush. Don’t overthink it.”

You didn’t miss a beat. “Pedro Pascal.”

The host raised his eyebrows. “Oh, you mean Daddy himself?”

You grinned, adjusting your neckline just slightly. “Exactly. The one and only.”

The clip went viral within hours. “VS Angel thirsts for Pedro Pascal like the rest of us,” one headline read. You chuckled, scrolling through the comments as you lounged in your hotel room. Apparently, the internet liked your taste.

What you didn’t expect was a DM three days later.

Pedro Pascal: “Just saw your interview. Should I be flattered… or warned?”

You stared at the message, heart thudding. You typed, deleted, then typed again.

You: “That depends. Are you dangerous, Mr. Pascal?”

Pedro: “Only at the Met Gala. You going?”

You smirked.

You: “Guess I’ll see you there then.”

The Met Gala was chaos dressed in couture. You stepped onto the red carpet in a sheer, glittering black gown that clung to every curve, complete with thigh-high slit and a neckline that left little to the imagination. Paparazzi screamed your name, flashes exploded around you, and the cameras caught every angle of your smirk.

But your eyes? They were scanning for him.

And there he was.

Pedro, in a tailored oxblood suit with a silky black shirt, unbuttoned just enough to show a tease of his chest. His hair was slightly tousled, lips pulled into that wolfish half-smile. You watched his gaze land on you across the crowd,and stay there.

You met him halfway across the gala floor, near a glass sculpture no one cared about.

“Wow,” he said, low and rough.

“Wow, yourself,” you replied, lips twitching.

He didn’t hide the way his eyes roamed your body. “You look like sin in silk.”

“And you look like the man who might finally ruin me,” you whispered back, stepping just a little closer.

His hand brushed your waist,not possessive, but promising. “You flirt like someone who knows exactly what she wants.”

“I do,” you said, voice calm. “Do you?”

Pedro chuckled under his breath, dipping his head near your ear. “Tonight? You.”

Later that night, after too many glances, drinks, and an endless amount of restrained tension, your hand found his under the table at the Met afterparty. His fingers curled over yours immediately, like they’d been waiting for the cue.

“You sure?” he murmured, voice hoarse, inches from your lips.

You squeezed his hand. “Hotel’s five minutes away.”

He paid the tab.

The door slammed shut behind you two in your suite, and before you could even shrug your coat off, his hands were on your waist, then your hips, then your jaw, pulling you into a kiss that hit you like a fever.

You gasped into his mouth, and he growled, deep and primal, backing you into the nearest wall.

“I’ve been thinking about this since the second I saw you in that damn dress,” he rasped against your lips, his body pressed hot and solid against yours.

“And I’ve been thinking about this since that DM,” you whispered, fingers working on the buttons of his shirt. “I wanted you the moment you typed the word dangerous.”

He smirked against your neck. “You wanted a villain, huh?”

“I wanted you, Pedro.”

Your gown slipped off your shoulders, and his breath caught.

“Jesus,” he murmured, eyes devouring the skin he uncovered. “You’re… goddamn art.”

You grabbed his belt with one hand and his hair with the other. “Then frame me. Worship me. I don’t want slow tonight.”

Pedro groaned, mouth crashing into yours again as you kicked your heels off and let the gown fall to the floor. You weren’t wearing much beneath it. The way his eyes darkened told you he approved.

He walked you backward to the bed, stripping his shirt off as he went. You trailed your fingers down his chest, then lower, taking in every inch of him.

You climbed onto the mattress, spreading your legs just slightly as you propped yourself up on your elbows. “Like what you see?”

He let out a breathless laugh. “I’ve dreamed of less than this and woken up sweating.”

“Then make it real,” you teased.

Pedro knelt at the edge of the bed, grabbing your thighs and dragging you toward him with a force that made you gasp. His mouth found the inside of your leg, teeth grazing lightly.

“You taste as good as you look, I bet,” he murmured, tongue teasing along your skin.

You arched under his touch, breath hitching. “Pedro…”

“I got you, baby,” he said, voice like gravel and honey.

His hands were steady, his mouth hot, and every word he whispered between kisses made your spine tighten. Your fingers threaded into his curls as he brought you to the edge, slow and deliberate.

When he finally pulled himself over you, fully bare, flushed and wild-eyed, he paused.

“You still sure?” he asked, voice trembling slightly.

You grinned. “Why are your pants still on, Pascal?”

That was all he needed.

The moment he was inside you, it was like electricity,rough and raw, but intimate. He kissed you everywhere,neck, collarbone, breasts,as if he were mapping you. The rhythm was fast, urgent, like the months of mutual pining had built to this singular explosion.

Your nails scratched down his back. “Harder.”

He bit your shoulder lightly, hips snapping faster. “You’re gonna be the death of me, I swear.”

And when it finally hit, when your release overtook you, he held you through it, groaning your name like it was a prayer.

You collapsed together in a tangled heap, sweaty, breathless, giggling between kisses.

“You’re trouble,” he muttered into your neck.

“And you love it.”

He didn’t deny it.

The press didn’t take long to start sniffing.

It began with the accidental Instagram story you posted,a candid of a table setting and Pedro’s unmistakable hand, ring and all, resting next to your wine glass.

Then came the paparazzi shots at a Lana Del Rey concert in London,your hands intertwined as you sang along, oblivious to the cameras.

Fans started dissecting everything: outfits, tweets, political retweets. “She posts a video about women’s rights,” one thread said, “and he posts a similar video four hours later.”

“Look at the watch,” another fan wrote. “SAME WATCH. SAME HAND. SAME MAN.”

Your team begged you to deny it. Your publicist practically choked when Jimmy Fallon pulled up the picture on air.

“So, rumor has it…” he said, grinning. “You and Pedro Pascal. Holding hands. Concert. Is this just friendship now?”

You laughed, brushing your hair over your shoulder like it was all silly fun. “Oh my God, that photo. We were… vibing. Friends vibe too, you know?”

The crowd chuckled. But the glint in your eyes betrayed you.

Jimmy raised his brows. “You sure about that? Because you’re both wearing the same shirt on two different posts last week.”

You feigned shock. “Coincidence.”

He played along. “Uh-huh. Okay, Miss Coincidence.”

But hours later, backstage in your dressing room, Pedro was waiting with takeout, hoodie low over his brow.

“Still just vibing?” he teased, handing you chopsticks.

You kissed his cheek and sank into his lap. “Tell the world what they want, or keep ‘em guessing?”

He smiled against your jaw. “Let ‘em wonder. That way they can’t imagine just how good it really is.”

And God, it was so good.

[theetherealbloom]

IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU - SERIES MASTERLIST

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

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

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

Main Song: It Could Happen To You by Laufey

CONTENTS:

Chapter 1: Hide Your Heart From Sight Chapter 2: God, I’m Actually Invested Chapter 3: The Air Buzzes Whenever You're Near Chapter 4: Everybody Wonders What It Would Be Like To Love You Chapter 5: As If The Street Lights Pointed In An Arrowhead Leading Us Home Chapter 6: I Keep These Longings Locked In Lowercase Inside A Vault Chapter 7: What Are You Doing To Me Now? Chapter 8: He Got My Heartbeat Skipping Down 16th Avenue Chapter 9: The Silver Lining's I'll Be There With You Chapter 10: Coming Soon Chapter 11: Coming Soon

[oldmenthusiast]

18+ content mdni

bookshop owner!joel miller x fem plus size reader

warnings: smut, age gap, tension, reader is in her 20s and joel in his 50s, semi public sex, reader wears glasses, not proofread

it takes many job interviews for joel to hire someone until he finds you. you're not the first young thing to apply for the job, not the most qualified either but joel likes how modest you are.

he also likes the way you avoid his gaze if he stares too long, or how you keep pushing your glasses every time they slide down your nose.

those aren't the only things he notices about you because he's become very observant due to his age; it definitely doesn't have to do with some strange infatuation over you, no.

when your hands firmly pull your sundress down if it's too windy, when you smack your own forehead if you mix up the order of the books before switching them again. joel notices that too but it doesn't necessarily mean anything.

“I’ve taken care of the online orders, mister miller.” you inform him as sweet as ever and joel’s crooked smile appears on instinct.

“thank you, sweetheart. you know how people my age are with those machines.”

you're kind enough to shake your head at his response.

“I think you're doing great,sir.” you tell him and it warms his cold heart to the core.

“go home, sugar. I'll close up soon.” he mutters with the same half smile and watches you go but not without wishing him a good day.

during peak season, the bookshop gets naturally busy but to the point where joel and you have to stay overtime.

he doesn't ask it of you but you insist.

“I can't let you do all that by yourself.” you mutter with a faint pout that he wants to kiss away.

“can’t pay you for overtime,sugar—”

“just let me do this for you,sir.” you cut him off and joel doesn't argue further.

that's how his following nights go. you sit together in the back of the store, tons of books and papers surrounding you as you work. you assist him with every single thing he needs and even if you lack knowledge in some parts, you learn it for him.

peak season ends, the bookshop is quiet and your shift ends but you somehow still sit at the back of the store instead of going home. joel sits across you while holding a bottle of beer in his hand.

“a girl your age should go out with friends and have fun, not rot in here with me.” joel tells you with a hint of amusement in his tone.

even if he's right, you do not agree.

“I like it here, it's peaceful..” you explain and as usual your gaze doesn't linger on his. you look away when joel doesn't and it makes the man smile.

“I like it too.” he mutters after a while and tips his head back to down the rest of his beer.

there's hidden intent behind his reply, or maybe just the feeling of wanting to say something more, but joel keeps quiet. whether you notice it or no, you don't say.

joel doesn't pride himself to be the best boss but at least he's a good enough one. that's what he tells himself when your most recent ex partner marches in his bookshop to cause a scene but joel sends him back with a bruised eye and some vulgar words.

it's probably the first time someone has stood up for you like that but it's more special because it comes from joel.

whether it's out of gratitude or suppressed emotions, joel thanks whatever high power has led him to the back of the store again with his body slumped on his chair and you straddling his lap.

“mister miller.” you moan as you sink down his cock, taking him inch by inch until you're fuller than ever.

his calloused hands wrap around your plush thighs and fondle the skin greedily, loving how it spills between his fingers. whatever you're not proud of, joel touches it like it's a treasure.

“I’m a man, not a boy.” he growls when you hesitate to move on him, afraid of crushing him beneath your weight. “fuck yourself on my cock, baby. come on.” one of his hands slaps your ass possessively and his words alone are good enough to give you the confidence that you lack.

once you start moving, it's over for him.

his thighs flex beneath your weight and his cock twitches within you as you ride him, taking him in so perfect.

“so good. my sweet girl. my favourite girl.” he whispers against your cheek and you melt while swaying your hips faster.

his hands clutch harder at your thighs as you bounce on his cock, buzzing with heat and need for more.

the sound of skin slapping, as well as the wet noises that emit with each slide of joel’s hardened cock inside your folds makes everything better. “so wet. you're coating my cock with it, sugar.” he says through gritted teeth as his fingers dig harder into the skin of your ass.

he slaps it once, then twice.

“mister miller!” you cry out when a particularly hard thrust is delivered straight into your sweet spot.

joel buries his face into your neck and grunts as your walls tighten around his cock, claiming his every inch. “so sensitive. bet your boyfriend didn't know how to fuck like this.” and he's probably right by the way your pussy drools and squeezes around him, sucking him in for more.

his lips find your neck and he marks it unapologetically, biting and sucking on whatever skin his mouth can reach.

when he pulls away and presses his back against the creaking chair he's graced by a sight better than any other.

joel watches you ride him, stares as your tits bounce before his face and your crooked glasses struggle to exist because of the force of his thrusts below you.

he definitely can't last long after that and he uses his strength to shove you on the table and tower over you. only then does he realize the pathetic state of your sundress, butchered up around your waist like it's a belt. he slides his cock inside you again and you whimper softly.

“knew you were made for me ever since you walked through that door.” joel growls while fondling your breasts with both hands, his mouth merely occupied with the tender skin on them.

your hands reach for him, gripping the back of his shirt as he fucks you. you're not used to being given things, only to give them yourself. and this much pleasure is overwhelming but it's good because it's joel giving it.

a particular shift of his hips helps him to slide deeper and the sensation causes you both to moan in unison.

“I won’t last, sweet girl.” he croaks between the space of your breasts while sucking one of your nipples into his mouth.

you can say the same as the stimulation brings you closer to the edge and your eyes can barely stay open at some point.

his hips follow a fast and intrusive pace, and every time joel’s hips collide against the back of your thighs it makes your skin jiggle. you feel embarrassed but not for long as joel drags his lips against yours.

“the prettiest girl. there's nothing better than you, sweetheart.” joel whispers and you kiss him before he does.

your mouths melt so perfectly, your noses brushing intimately, and if joel could bring you any closer he would.

“there.” you beg against his lips when the tip of his cock hits that perfect spot within you.

“here?” he asks teasingly and makes his thrusts purposely rougher. your legs shake around him and he does it again. and again. and again.

the bookshop is filled with your cries and begging. “i’m coming— I can't—” you mumble incoherently but joel gets it as he speeds it up.

you watch his hand disappear between your bodies and you don't question it until you feel that excellent brush of fingers against your clit, accompanied by his savage thrusts into your weeping pussy.

“joel.” his informal name falls off your lips so well and he has to remind himself to breath when you say it as you come around his cock with a cry.

it takes everything in him to not spill everything within you right there.

“where? where, baby?” he asks as he grounds his hips and hopes you'll get it.

“I'm on the pill.” you so graciously tell him while squeezing your thighs around his waist and joel nearly says thank you because of what a desperate bastard he is.

it only takes a few more thrusts for him to let go and come inside you, his hands abandoning your breasts to pull you down by your hips.

your eyes roll to the back of your head as you feel every drop pour into you and fill you up. it briefly shocks you that he's still coming — he's still filling you up with his seed and groaning against you.

“there’s so much.” you mutter breathlessly as he nuzzles his face against yours. joel simply hums and uses one of his hands to caress the bare side of your hip, keeping you relaxed.

“we’re not opening tomorrow.” he tells you in his usual tone of authority.

“it’s thursday.” you tell him.

“good day to go out and eat,yeah?” joel pulls back enough to look at you and he stares at you knowingly. his words bring a smile to your lips, one that he wants to treasure forever.

you nod then, giving him your acceptance.

“yeah. it is a good day to eat out.” his hand moves from your hip to fix your crooked glasses with a fond expression. the glint in his eyes speaks louder than any sentence.

“maybe you should keep your calendar empty for this month. or year.” his words amuse you but you're aware that it's far from a joke — he isn't asking. your eyes regard him as gently as always and you smile that way just for him. “yes mister miller.”

he was glad to have hired you.

[ssweetleaf]

set phasers to stun.

summary: joel wants you to sit on his face— you think you’re far too heavy for something like that.

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

includes: SMUT 18+, face sitting/cunnilingus, dom!joel, i wrote this with an age gap in mind, but it isn’t really specified so make it up girlies, a bit of spanking, slight insecure!reader, pet names (honey, girlie, baby, babygirl, sunshine) a tad of a daddy kink (i’m sorry, it’s me, what do you expect?)

a/n: sorry i’ve been gone again, i’m back in my pedro pascal phase and this just came out of nowhere lol. let me know what you think. dividers credit goes to @saradika-graphics <33

“Quit your whinin’ and sit the fuck down.”

You were hovering over Joel’s face, thighs twitching and burning from their position, careful not to bump any part of yourself into him— too scared to fully sit yourself upon his face like he had so desperately asked for earlier in the day.

“Joel— m’too heavy,” you muttered, cheeks heating, shifting your weight from knee to knee and hands on the headboard, knuckles whitening from your firm grip.

He lifted a big palm against the cheek of your ass in a sharp, searing slap, quelling your whirring thoughts for just a moment, the burn of his hand print thick and heavy upon the globe of your ass.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” he growled, teeth clenched, eyes boring into yours from underneath you and you would’ve frowned at the sight of the protruding pudge of your belly when you looked down, but the constant smoothing of his callused hands against the soft rolls and swells of your body had you stifling it.

“Now listen here, honey,” he huffed, shifting his face to the side to press a few spongy kisses to the thickness of your thighs. “I ain’t gonna tell ya again.”

Joel was firm with his words, the low timbre shooting throughout your core and flooding your folds with a surge of arousal.

“Y’gonna take a seat, and y’gonna ride my fuckin’ face till I say you can stop, y’hear?”

“Joel, I—Ow!”

Another spank, on the other cheek this time, but just as hard, the print blooming in the shape of his calluses and the ring on his finger.

“Girlie.” The fond pet name was now a word of warning, almost daring you to disobey him. “Sit, now.”

You swallowed thickly, and with a shaky breath you lowered yourself down, easing onto his handsome face, the broad slope of his nose prominent against your slit, and you gasped at his deep inhale, breathing your scent deep into his lungs, almost savouring it before nudging your clit with the tip of his nose.

Your lashes fluttered, threatening to close once he mouthed a kiss to your pussy lips, teasingly sucking your folds into his eager mouth, careful to avoid your poor, puffy clit and keep you on edge.

“Look at this pretty cunt, hm?” he cooed, gruff and thick, muffled slightly from between your thighs and beneath your soft belly. “She’s been beggin’ for this, baby and you’ve been keeping her from me.”

His tongue peeked out from between his lips, swiping a long, fat stripe from your slick, fluttering hole, to the engorged jewel of your clit.

“Oh!” You whined, threading your fingers through his thick curls, tugging slightly once his lips enveloped your pearl, suckling it into his mouth, humming into your heat, the vibrations sending shockwaves throughout your cunt and you moaned out at the feeling. “Joel, fuck.”

He pulled back only slightly, brow raised and eyes dark and glistening— a big palm squeezed at the fat of your ass. A little warning.

“Language.” he clicked his tongue, turning to nuzzle into the thickness of your thigh, biting into it with dull molars and sharp canines, urging another wave of slick to surge your poor cunt.

“S-sorry!” You squeaked out, nails scratching against his scalp the way he liked as a little apology. “Keep going, please.”

You could feel his smirk against your flesh, tongue swiping at the marks he bit and sucked into the sensitive skin of your thighs.

“There she is,” he hummed, “now ya beggin’ for it, aren’t ya, baby? Knew you’d come around some time.”

Joel dove back into your cunt, lapping crudely at your hole, picking up silver strings of arousal on his tongue before lolling it over your peaked clit— smacking kisses to it, practically making out with your poor pussy whilst humming happily into your heat.

“Just needed some persuadin’, huh, sunshine?” he spoke into your pussy, voice muffled and barely legible through your hazy brain. “Just needed your ol’ man to eat this pretty pussy from down here, didn’t ya, babygirl?”

You cried out, nodding profusely at his filthy words and personification of your cunt, tears ebbing at your waterline and slowly easing over.

“Been havin’ so much trouble with my damn back— just layin’ here while you ride my face is so much better, sugar.”

Knowing your man wasn’t in pain, that his usual achy back and knees were quelled and sated by his current position, instead of the place he so often took between your legs with a hunched back and sore knees, had you relaxing somewhat.

‘Makin’ y’daddy a happy man, baby,” he groaned, fisting at the fat of your hips, leaving you tight and secure against his face. “fuckin’ dripping down my throat.”

You could feel the tightening in your belly, coiling throughout your insides, warming you up and leaving you panting, fisting at any part of him you could find.

“J-Joel,” you panted, chest heaving up and down, up and down, nails in his scalp, in his shoulder blades, even reaching behind you at his thighs. “so close.”

Your speech was clipped, lips stuttering and drool slipping from the corner of your mouth.

“Ah ah,” he shook his head, lips still suckling at your clit after every other word. “None of that, you ask for daddy’s permission— you know what to do.”

You whined again, long and drawn out, bucking your hips and huffing out— there was a warmth upon your cheeks that blossomed, creeping down your neck and teasing the tips of your ears, all shy now when asking your man to cum.

“Please, Joel,” you sighed out, thighs squeezing at his ears, clamping him tight underneath you. “can I cum? Pretty please?”

“Please, what?” He huffed, gruff and quick, tongue lolling and rolling over your spit-slick clit before thrusting the pink muscle into your quivering hole. “Ain’t got all day, hon.”

“Daddy— please, daddy! Need’a cum.”

“Atta girl, such nice manners— taught you good, baby girl. Cum f’me.”

[ilikemenolderthanmyfather]

———————————————————————————————————

AN OLD TOY

———————————————————————————————————

Joel Miller x F!Reader

18+ !!MDNI!!

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

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

Words: 3K

———————————————————————————————————

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

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

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

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

You chuckled at that, “Oh but I do.”

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

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

“A toy”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“YOU SON OF A B-!”

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

[ieatpussyfromtheback]

⸻

Pedro Pascal x Reader Headcanons

1. Protective but Playful

• Pedro is a gentle protector — he’s never overbearing, but you’ll catch him hovering nearby in crowded places, a hand on your lower back or your shoulder, just in case.

• He teases you constantly, but if anyone else tries to? He’ll give them that Pedro Pascal death stare (you know the one — eyes narrowed, jaw clenched).

2. Love Languages

• His primary love language is physical touch — he’s always touching you: pinkies linked, forehead kisses, his hand in your hair when you’re cuddling on the couch.

• Acts of service are a close second. He brings you coffee exactly how you like it, and he’s somehow always memorized even the smallest preferences you have.

3. The Way He Looks at You

• That soft gaze he gives? Oh yeah, it’s real. He looks at you like you hung the stars, especially when you’re laughing or completely absorbed in something.

• If you catch him staring and ask what he’s looking at, he’ll smirk and say, “Just admiring my greatest treasure.”

4. Late Nights & Deep Talks

• Nights with Pedro often mean deep, sleepy conversations about life, fame, childhood memories, and everything in between.

• Sometimes he gets quiet, unsure if he deserves something this good — and you always pull him back with gentle reminders that he’s loved just as he is.

5. Chaos and Comfort

• He’s the king of sending you weird memes and TikToks at 2 a.m. with the caption “us.”

• He dances terribly in the kitchen just to make you laugh, and he makes the most dramatic noises when he stubs his toe — Oscar-worthy performances.

6. Support System

• He’s your biggest cheerleader — always hyping you up in interviews, bragging about you to friends, and making sure you feel safe and seen.

• And when he’s overwhelmed? You’re his home. He’ll curl into you, hold on tight, and whisper how grateful he is that you love him and not just the persona.

⸻

[fallenbratfiction]

the parts you’ve been taught to hate - pedro pascal x f!reader

After a day out with your mother turns cruel, you come home unraveling—every word, every criticism carved into your skin like a scar. Standing in front of the mirror, you see only what’s “wrong.” But Pedro sees you differently. With quiet love and unwavering tenderness, he reminds you that the parts you’ve been taught to hate are the very ones he cherishes most.

A/N: I wasn’t going to write anything until the weekend but this household just keeps on giving me content to work with. I was very emo writing this while listening to what was I made fooooor

warnings: reader has body image issues, criticism from mother and self hate, comfort/angst, fluff, Pedro being a sweetheart reassuring, happy ending. If you think I’m missing any warnings, let me know!

masterlist

🔞minors dni. I am not responsible for what you choose to interact with.

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

——————————————————————————

You come home in silence.

The kind of silence that feels like a weight, thick in your lungs, heavy in your limbs. Your keys clink against the hallway table like they’re mocking you—too loud in a house that’s supposed to feel like a safe place.

But you don’t feel safe.

You stand in front of the mirror, still in the clothes you wore out with her. You shouldn’t have gone. You knew better.

“Are you really wearing that?”

“That color draws attention to your hips.”

“You’d look prettier if your face wasn’t so tired.”

“You know, some people try a little harder—get their arms toned, maybe fix their teeth…”

You stood in front of the mirror, observing your body. Your face. The things that were wrong about you.

At least, the things you’d been told were wrong.

Pointed out. Repeated. Embedded.

The thickness of your thighs, the way your stomach looked when you weren’t standing up straight or sucking in. The curve—or lack—of your waist. Your arms, the softness of them. The way your boobs sat in certain shirts, always either too much or not enough.

You just couldn’t pick what you hated the most.

Because it all felt like too much. Or never enough.

Never the right kind of anything.

And it was so loud in your head.

Each word echoes like glass breaking, and you can’t stop replaying them. It’s always the same script. Same tone. Like she’s pointing out smudges on a mirror—but it’s your body. Your body, that you’ve spent years trying to make peace with, only to be reminded it’s still not enough. That you’re still not enough.

You press your fingers to your stomach, to your arms, to the curve of your chin. The parts she noticed. The parts she made you hate. Maybe they were fine before—maybe you didn’t love them, but you didn’t flinch. Now they feel foreign. Exposed.

Then—soft footsteps. A shift in the air.

Pedro.

The front door clicks open. You don’t move.

“Mi amor?” Pedro’s voice is soft, already closer than you expected. “I saw your shoes—why are you standing in the dark?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. You hear him pause. Then, slow steps.

He sees you.

His arms slide around your waist from behind, warm and careful. He rests his chin on your shoulder. You tense, even though you don’t want to. He notices that too.

“What happened?” he murmurs.

Your throat closes up. Your voice, when it finally comes, sounds thin. “She said… things.”

He doesn’t ask who. He doesn’t need to.

You lift your gaze to the mirror again. “I can’t change these things.”

Pedro’s grip tightens gently, his thumb rubbing circles into your hip. The same hip she criticized earlier over lunch. He kisses the curve of your shoulder.

“I love these things,” he says simply.

“I see the body that holds you together when the world falls apart.”

Another kiss, just behind your ear.

“I see the thighs I dream about when you’re not in bed with me.”

“This,” he presses another kiss to your upper arm, “is soft and warm, and it holds me when I can’t sleep.”

You shut your eyes, the tears creeping in, but he kept going.

“I see softness I crave, skin I miss when I’m away from you for more than a few hours.”

“I see you, mi amor. And I love every inch. Not because it’s perfect. But because it’s yours. And you’re mine.”

You turned in his arms, burying your face in his chest. He held you like he was made for it.

Like you were made to be held.

“These things are yours. And I love them because they’re part of you—not in spite of it.”

His voice is quiet, but firm. “And anyone who makes you feel less than holy for that doesn’t deserve the sound of your voice, mi vida. Let alone your attention.”

You feel his arms around you, strong and sure.

Pedro doesn’t say anything else for a moment. He just holds you. And in that silence, you feel it—the weight start to lift, just a little, like he’s carrying some of it for you without needing to be asked.

You lean back into him, and your shoulders drop for the first time all day. Your chest presses to his as you turn slightly, just enough to bury your face in his shirt. He smells like laundry soap and warmth. You inhale. Let yourself melt.

“I don’t want to feel like this,” you whisper.

“I know, baby.” He presses his lips to your hair. “You don’t have to do anything right now. Just let me hold you.”

And so you do.

For a while, that’s all there is: the rise and fall of his chest, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back, his other arm looped securely around your waist. No fixes. No advice. Just presence. Just love.

Eventually, he leans back a little to look at you. His thumb brushes the corner of your eye, catching a tear you hadn’t noticed had slipped free.

“Come on,” he says gently. “Let’s get cozy. No more mirrors. No more noise.”

You nod.

He guides you to the bedroom, pulls out your softest pajamas—the ones you always forget you own until he finds them for you. He doesn’t rush you. Just sits on the edge of the bed while you change, his gaze never anything less than tender.

Once you’re in fresh clothes, he helps you wrap up in one of the throw blankets you own and walks you to the couch like you’re made of something delicate. Maybe you are, tonight.

“What do you feel like watching?” he asks, brushing your hair back behind your ear.

You shrug.

He smiles softly. “Something with a happy ending. Something where nobody talks about anyone’s body unless it’s to say they’re beautiful.”

You manage a small laugh. He takes it like a trophy.

He puts on a familiar movie, one you both love but don’t need to pay attention to. Then he settles beside you, arms open, and you curl into him without hesitation this time.

His hand strokes your arm, slow and grounding. “You know,” he says after a while, “I think your body’s perfect. But not just in the way people say that word without meaning it. I mean it. Every part you’ve ever apologized for—those are my favorite parts. The parts I kiss first.”

You don’t answer. You just pull the blanket tighter and rest your cheek against his chest, the steady beat of his heart reminding you you’re safe.

And for the first time in a long time, you start to believe that you deserve this. That there’s nothing wrong with your softness, your shape, your tiredness. That you’re not broken, not in need of fixing—just love.

And love is exactly what you’re wrapped in now.

——————————————————————————

From the girl that made you all weep with that Bucky fanfic, here comes Pedro and body positivity. Who needs tissues?

Hope you’ve enjoyed reading! Let me know what you think about it and I hope it has served of some comfort.

Reblogs, likes and comments help stories grow! Thank you as always for the support ✨✨✨

[worlds-we-write]

Let Me Hear You

pairing: Pedro Pascal x Plus-Size/Curvy Reader

summary: A chance encounter at a BDSM club leads to a slow-burning, electric connection. As their nights together grow more intense, desire and trust begin to blur the lines between pleasure and something deeper. Word Count: 6.8K Tags: Heavy smut, BDSM themes, blindfold, restraints, spanking, flogging, orgasm denial, oral (f + m receiving), dirty talk, unprotected p in v, toy usage, praise/degradation, established kink consent, body worship, aftercare.

You step into the dimly lit club as midnight approaches, the heavy thrum of bass immediately pulsing through your body. The air is warm and tinged with the scent of amber and leather, matching the low red glow of lights that casts everything in a seductive haze.

You were dressed for the setting: a black strappy corset that hugged every curve of your body like it worshipped it, high-waisted mesh-paneled pants, and a bold red lip.

It had taken courage to come, but once you were here, something settled in your bones. Like you belonged.

The music is a hypnotic blend of synth and percussion, loud enough that conversation means leaning in close. You find an empty spot at the counter and order a drink, letting the music wash over you while you scan the room.

A playful guitar riff from a familiar song comes on, and you can’t help but smile to yourself. Joy Division’s “Love Will Tear Us Apart” – not a track you expected to hear in a place like this, but it sets the perfect mood.

You tap your fingers in time on the bar top, softly humming along. Suddenly, a warm voice speaks near your ear, just loud enough to cut through the music.

“You have good taste,” the man says, motioning to the ceiling where the speakers are hidden. “Not many people appreciate this song anymore.”

Startled, you turn to face him and are met with a pair of friendly brown eyes and a teasing smile. The club’s soft lights dance across strong features – scruffy salt-and-pepper stubble along a sharp jaw, tousled dark hair, and a presence that is immediately disarming and electric all at once.

It takes you a second to place him. Pedro Pascal, your mind registers with a jolt. You almost doubt yourself in the dark, but that distinctive, warm grin and the confident ease in his posture are unmistakable. For a split second you’re starstruck – you've admired him on screen for ages – but you quickly remind yourself to breathe. Here, he's just a gorgeous man in a bar making conversation.

You laugh softly, leaning against the bar as you recover from the surprise. "I could say the same. Joy Division in a club is a bold choice," you reply, raising your glass slightly in a toast to the DJ. "But I'm not complaining." Pedro clinks his own drink to yours. "To good music and unexpected company," he quips, eyes not leaving yours as you both take a sip.

He sat down beside you like he’d been invited by fate.

The conversation flows easily from there, starting with music. It turns out you share an affinity for 80s post-punk and alternative rock. He grins with genuine enthusiasm when you mention your love for The Cure and Depeche Mode, and soon you're comparing favorite albums. The bond over music comes naturally, each shared reference and passion forming a crackle of connection between you.

The longer you talk, the closer Pedro shifts toward you, drawn in by the mutual excitement. The club around you fades slightly out of focus; the only thing in sharp detail is him – the way his eyes light up when you make a witty retort, and the subtle, crooked smile that tugs at his lips every time you surprise him with another common interest.

As the minutes pass, your initial nervousness melts away, replaced by a warm glow fueled by both the alcohol and Pedro’s undivided attention. He is charismatic in a quiet way, not the boisterous type you often encounter at bars. Instead, he listens intently when you speak, and his responses are thoughtful, laced with a flirty edge that makes your stomach flutter.

You notice the way he occasionally glances down at your body appreciatively, though he is nothing but gentlemanly in his words. It's in those brief, heated glances – a sweeping look at the curve of your hips, or the way his gaze lingers on the swell of your breasts beneath your top – that you sense a deeper interest than just friendly conversation. Each time, he meets your eyes again and smirks as if he knows exactly what he’s doing, and you feel your skin flush warm under his gaze.

When you tease him about one of his movie roles, a playful glint sparks in your eyes – your little hint of brattiness showing itself.

"I hope you dance better than you did in that one scene," you jibe lightly, referencing a comedic moment from one of his projects with a grin.

He lets out a surprised laugh, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, you caught that, did you?" he says with mock chagrin. He steps a half-step closer, close enough that your shoulder brushes against his chest. "I promise I'm much better with my moves in real life." The double entendre in his words is unmistakable, and paired with that low, honeyed tone of his voice, it sends a thrill up your spine.

You raise your chin a little in challenge, eyes sparkling. "Is that so? Maybe I'll have to see for myself." It's bold – the words just slip out – but judging by the way Pedro’s smile darkens into something more primal, it was exactly the right thing to say.

He tilts his head, studying you for a moment with that intense gaze. "Careful," he murmurs. "I might hold you to that." His fingers lightly brush the back of your hand resting on the bar, a brief test of boundaries that leaves tingles in their wake. You feel your breath catch, heart skipping a beat at the contact and at the promise woven into his words.

Before you can respond, the DJ transitions into another track – this time something more industrial with a throbbing beat that vibrates through the floor. The crowd cheers and some people head to the dance floor.

 Pedro’s attention flickers toward the dancing bodies and back to you. He leans in, lips near your ear so you can hear him over the music. "Do you want to dance?" he asks. His breath is warm against your ear, and the closeness makes you shiver pleasantly.

You nod, taking his hand as he offers it. The air between you is charged as he leads you to where others have started moving.

The music is dark and sensual, and Pedro wastes no time finding a rhythm with you. His hands slide to your waist, fingers splaying just above the curve of your hips, and you automatically move in closer. Your bodies find a slow, grinding sway to the music. With him behind you, you can feel the heat radiating off his body and the solid firmness of his chest as it presses against your back. The intimacy of the position sends your pulse racing.

His thigh slips between yours from behind as you move, allowing you to rub against it slightly with each sway. You let out a soft, involuntary gasp at the friction. Pedro hears it; you feel the rumble of a satisfied growl low in his throat as he tightens his grip on your hips, guiding you to grind just a little harder.

"That's it," he murmurs close to you, the encouragement almost lost in the music, but you catch it. One of his hands skims up your side, trailing the outline of your curves. He’s testing the waters, seeing how you respond, and your body answers for you by arching into his touch.

The club lights flash intermittently, and in those flickers you catch sight of his face over your shoulder. His eyes are half-lidded, focused on you with open desire now, and his lips are parted as if savoring the moment. You realize you're wearing an almost identical expression – completely caught up in the heat that's building between you two on the dance floor.

When his hand daringly grazes the side of your breast, you respond with a playful wiggle of your hips against him, earning a sharp inhale from Pedro. He chuckles low in your ear. "Brat," he whispers, the word dripping with amusement and a hint of warning. The label sends a flush of both embarrassment and excitement through you. You like that he’s noticing your teasing, and that he's calling you out on it in such a delicious way.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you reply innocently, turning your head so that your cheek nearly brushes against his lips. The coy tone in your voice is belied by the mischievous grin you can't hide.

Pedro just shakes his head with a soft laugh, and then you feel the gentle scrape of his teeth as he nips lightly at the curve where your neck meets your shoulder. The sensation draws a surprised moan from you before you can stop it. The spot he bit tingles, and you suspect he might have left a faint mark. His tongue swiftly follows to soothe the spot, a silent apology that only stokes the fire inside you.

He presses a kiss to your neck, lips warm and lingering as the song continues to envelop you both. "You drive a hard bargain," he murmurs against your skin, his voice rougher now with arousal. "I was going to behave myself a little longer, but you're making that very difficult."

There's a tension in his tone – restrained, as if he's holding himself back. That realization sends a thrill through you: the knowledge that he wants you, that you're tempting him to lose composure.

By the time the track ends, you are both breathing a little harder, and not from the dancing alone. The air between you is thick with lust and unspoken possibilities. Pedro gently turns you to face him. His hands remain on your waist, thumbs rubbing slow circles that make it hard to think straight.

“You come here to watch?” he asked, voice low and edged with something darker. “Or to play?”

You met his gaze and smiled slowly. “Maybe both.”

He stood, offered a hand. “There’s a room in the back. Private. Stocked.” His eyes flicked down to your lips, then back up. “Let me take care of you tonight. Show you how good it can feel.”

You barely remembered the walk—just the pressure of his palm on your lower back, the faint scent of tobacco and leather clinging to him, the heat curling low in your stomach.

Your heart is pounding with excitement and a touch of nerves as Pedro leads you down a short hallway to one of the private rooms. The hall is quieter, muffling the club music to a dull thump behind closed doors.

At a discrete black door with the number 7 on it, Pedro pauses and turns to you, his eyes serious for a moment beneath the lust.

"Before we go in," he says quietly, "you can say no at any time. If you change your mind, just tell me and we stop. Okay?" His expression is earnest, and the fact that he's checking in so considerately makes you melt a little.

Your pulse flutters. You nod, appreciating the care. "Okay," you reply softly. "I'll tell you if I want to stop." The hint of a grateful smile touches his lips, and he squeezes your hand. With that reassurance, he opens the door and ushers you inside.

The room was dim, backlit by soft amber lights. A four-poster bed sat in the center, draped in black. Shelves lined with implements: paddles, floggers, ropes, blindfolds, clips, vibrators. Like a curated museum of sin.

He turned to face you, brushing his knuckles down your cheek. “Color system?”

“Green,” you whispered.

“Safe word?”

You told him, and he kissed the corner of your mouth like a reward.

“Clothes off. Slow. I want to watch.”

You undressed under his gaze, heart hammering. When the corset finally slid off, baring your full curves to him, his eyes darkened.

“Fucking beautiful,” he murmured, stepping forward to kneel in front of you. His hands gripped your thighs, pressing kisses along your hips, your belly, before spreading you open and burying his face between your legs.

You cried out, one hand bracing on the bedpost, the other tangled in his hair. His tongue was relentless—broad strokes, focused flicks, slow circles that teased your clit just shy of what you needed. He pulled back when you were right there, his lips slick with you.

“You don’t come until I say. Understand?”

You nodded, breathless.

“No, baby. Say it.”

“I won’t come until you say,” you gasped.

“Good girl.” he praises, and your heart skips at the warmth those words ignite in you.

You suspect he can feel the way you shiver at the praise because he smirks knowingly and leans down to kiss you again. As he does, his hand reaches above your head. You hear a soft clink of metal on wood – likely him grabbing something from the headboard or a nearby hook.

He breaks the kiss and you feel the cool touch of leather encircling one wrist, then a soft click – a cuff fastening. Your pulse quickens as he gently but firmly pulls your other wrist up and secures it as well.

You test your arms and find them bound together by what feels like a short bar or strap, and attached to the headboard. Excitement and a tiny bit of panic intermingle, but mostly it's a heady rush to know you're now effectively at his mercy.

You felt vulnerable and feral all at once.

Pedro’s voice was close, teasing your ear. “You look like a fucking goddess tied up like this. All curves and heat and need.”

The first slap of the flogger made you jolt. Not pain—more of a sting, a delicious bite that spread like heat across your skin. He struck you again. And again. Each one met with a moan that made him growl.

“You take it so well,” he murmured. “I can see you dripping from here.

He sits back on his heels between your legs for a moment to admire his handiwork: you, naked and bound beneath him, chest heaving with anticipation.

"You look incredible like this," Pedro says, voice rough. He runs his hands from your wrists down the length of your arms, then over your collarbones. The lightest touch, yet it leaves a trail of goosebumps. "All mine," he adds, almost to himself, as his hands travel further down. They glide over the soft swell of your breasts, thumbs teasing your nipples again briefly, then continue down your torso.

When his palms flatten against your belly, you tense slightly out of habit, but his touch there is warm and appreciative. He notices your reaction and meets your eyes, pausing his exploration.

"You're so damn sexy," he says fervently. "Every part of you."

To prove his point, he lowers himself and presses slow, sucking kisses across your belly, showing extra attention to the parts you feel shy about.

Each kiss is like a balm, erasing a bit of your insecurity. You can only whimper and arch under him, any self-conscious thoughts drowned out by the pleasure of his lips on your skin.

His mouth continues its journey downward, and your breath hitches as he approaches your aching center. He shifts, hooking your thighs over his broad shoulders.

Instinctively, you try to close your legs at the intensity of the anticipation, but the position and his grip prevent it.

 "Easy," he soothes, planting a soft kiss on the inside of your thigh. "I’ve got you."

And then he reaches over to the nightstand and grabs something – a soft black silk blindfold. You hadn't even noticed it laying there. He holds it up briefly as if to show you.

"This okay?" he asks, the final check. Your heart is in your throat with excitement as you nod.

"Yes, please," you manage to say. The idea of surrendering your sight to him sends another pulse of arousal through you.

Gently, he slips the blindfold over your eyes and ties it snugly at the back of your head. The world goes dark. Immediately, your senses heighten; you can hear your own breathing and the distant muffled bass from the club outside, feel the slight coolness of the room on your heated skin, and smell the subtle mix of your arousal and his scent (a mix of his cologne, woodsy and spice, and the musk of sweat from your heated activities).

The bed dips as he settles back between your legs and you feel his hands on your knees, sliding up to part your thighs further. You are completely exposed to him, blind and bound. The vulnerability is intense, but instead of fear, you feel exhilaration. Every nerve is on fire waiting for his next touch.

His fingertips trace feather-light patterns along your inner thighs, avoiding the place you need him most, and it's maddening. You let out a soft whine, lifting your hips a little, silently begging. He chuckles darkly.

 "So eager," he murmurs. A smack lands on your outer thigh – not too hard, but enough to make you gasp. "Stay still, cariño," he growls, the dominant edge in his voice unmistakable now. "I'll give you what you need. Be patient for me."

You bite your lip hard, trying to obey, trying to still the trembling of your thighs. But he isn't making it easy.

You feel the bed shift as he lowers himself, and then – oh god – the first hot, broad lick of his tongue up your slit. A cry tears from your throat at the sudden jolt of pleasure. He groans against you, apparently enjoying your taste as much as you enjoy his tongue.

He starts slow, languidly exploring your folds with his mouth, teasing every sensitive spot except the one you want him to focus on most. He avoids your clit at first, licking around it in cruel teasing circles, making your hips twitch upward seeking friction.

He notices and one strong arm comes across your hips, pinning you down firmly against the mattress. "I said stay still," Pedro admonishes between kisses against your inner lips, voice vibrating directly against your core.

The sensation makes you moan wantonly. You force yourself to still your hips, gripping the cuffs binding your wrists to give yourself something to hold onto.

"Good girl," he purrs, and rewards you by finally wrapping his lips around your clit. The suction and the sudden flick of his tongue over that bundle of nerves make you nearly scream.

Only the awareness that there are other rooms and people beyond the wall keeps you to a loud cry. Pleasure radiates outward from your center, and your toes curl in your heels as he works you with expert attention.

Pedro feasts on you like a man starving, alternating between suckling your clit and dipping his tongue inside your entrance to lap at the flood of arousal there. The lewd wet sounds of his mouth on you and your own helpless moans fill the room, an erotic symphony accompanying the distant bass.

Your world narrows to just these sensations – the heat coiling in your belly, the pressure building inside as he relentlessly pleasures you. He slides two fingers into you without warning, and they slip in easily with how wet you are. He curls them just right, finding that spongy spot inside that makes you cry out his name.

"That's it," he mutters against your clit, voice rough. "Moan for me. Let me hear how good I'm making you feel." You oblige with another loud moan, no longer caring who might hear. He pumps his fingers steadily, a firm rhythm that has you hurtling towards climax faster than you expected.

Your breathing turns ragged, thighs quivering around his head. You can feel the orgasm approaching, a tightening low in your belly.

"Pedro," you gasp, a warning, as your muscles start to clench around his thrusting fingers. "I-I'm gonna—"

Suddenly, he withdraws his fingers and mouth completely, pulling away from you. The loss of contact is so abrupt, it's like a bucket of cold water. The almost-orgasm that was within reach shatters and dissipates, leaving you on a cruel edge.

A firm slap to your thigh. “No. Not yet.”

You sob in frustration at the denial, hips bucking upward desperately, trying to chase his mouth. But his arm still pins your pelvis down and now his other hand comes to press on your inner thigh, keeping you spread but offering no relief.

You whined, hips bucking. He chuckled, low and dark.

"Not yet, hermosa," Pedro tuts. His voice is smug and dripping with control. "You were going to come without permission." Even though you can't see him, you just know he's watching you with that infuriatingly sexy smirk, enjoying the way you squirm.

You whine, nearly a wail, and tug at your restraints. It’s half reflex, half hoping maybe you could free a hand to finish yourself because you're throbbing with need. But the cuffs hold firm. "Please," you manage, your voice high and needy. "Please, I need—"

A sharp slap lands right on your swollen clit, shocking you. It wasn't very hard, more surprising than painful, but it makes you yelp and instantly silences your begging. Your clit throbs from the light impact, somehow adding to the overwhelming cocktail of sensations rather than diminishing it.

"What did I say about patience?" Pedro growls. He's still between your legs; you can feel his hot breath against your overstimulated center.

"You'll come when I let you, understand?" His tone is commanding, the rough Dominant you sensed in him fully present now. Yet beneath it there's a thread of care – he wants you to feel good, just on his terms.

You nod frantically, forgetting for a moment that he might want a verbal answer since you’re blindfolded. "Y-yes, sir," you stammer automatically. The honorific slips out without thinking, but it feels right on your tongue.

He inhales sharply, clearly affected by the title you granted him. "Good girl," he rumbles, and you practically preen at the praise despite your predicament. "Let's see if you can control yourself for me. If you do..." He trails a finger teasingly through your slick folds, avoiding your clit this time. "I'll make sure your mind blanks out from how hard you come. That's a promise."

His words alone send a thrill through you. You nod again, biting your lip. "I’ll be good," you breathe. "I promise."

"That's what I like to hear," Pedro says. Then, to your surprise, you feel him shift away.

The weight on the bed changes as he moves, and you hear the soft rustle of him removing his jeans and perhaps his boxers. Your heart jumps at the realization that he's undressing; soon you'll feel him skin to skin.

You strain to hear any little sound – a zipper, fabric hitting the floor – and your anticipation spikes knowing he's likely naked now, or nearly so.

The next thing you feel is the bed dipping again and the heat of his body covering yours as he returns to you.

His mouth captures yours in a ravenous kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips and chin, an erotic reminder of what he was just doing to you. The kiss is bruising and hungry; you return it with equal passion, tongues tangling.

His bare chest is pressed to yours, the hair on his torso tickling your sensitive nipples as you arch into him. God, the feeling of his warm, solid body on top of you when you can't use your hands to touch him back – it's a special kind of torment.

You instinctively spread your legs wider to accommodate him between them, and you feel the hard length of his cock brush against your inner thigh, so close to where you need it.

A moan slips from you into his mouth at the tease of contact. You want to see him badly – to take in the sight of his naked form and the lust on his face – but the blindfold forces you to experience it differently, focusing on sound, touch, and taste. In some ways, it's even more intense this way. Every brush of his skin, every breathy sound he makes is magnified.

"You want me inside you, don't you?" Pedro husks against your lips as he breaks the kiss. He starts kissing along your jaw and down your neck again, his hips grinding slowly, letting the tip of his cock slide through your slick folds without entering. It's a tantalizing preview that has you trembling.

"Yes," you gasp, back arching as he teases your entrance. "Please, Pedro... I want you. I need you."

He groans softly at your plea, clearly stoking his ego and desire. "You feel how hard I am for you?" he whispers, shifting to rub the head of his cock against your clit once, making you both moan.

He's indeed rock hard, and you can tell he's of considerable size. The thought of that thickness stretching you makes your walls flutter in anticipation.

"Condom?" he asks suddenly, voice strained like it's taking all his self-control not to just take you right now.

"Please... I- I'm on the pill," you manage, desperate for him not to stop and break this momentum. And you trust him; after all, he's been responsible in everything so far tonight, and you find yourself willing to take this pleasure raw.

He growls in appreciation, understanding your meaning. "Good girl."

The tip of his cock finds your entrance and he begins to push in slowly. Both of you gasp – you, at the stretching burn as your body adjusts to him, and him, at the sheer tight heat of you enveloping him inch by inch. Even with how wet you are, the girth of him is a delicious challenge.

He pauses once the tip is in, to let you catch your breath. "Relax, baby," he murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth sweetly, a tender contrast to the filthy act of him breaching you. "You can take it."

You nod, forcing yourself to unclench, to breathe. He circles his hips a little, working himself deeper, then pulls back a touch, then slides in further.

Inch by inch, he works his cock into you, carefully but persistently, until finally, with a low groan, he bottoms out. He is seated fully inside you, his hips flush with yours.

The fullness is overwhelming – bordering on too much – but then your body adjusts and it transforms into an incredible sense of being completely filled, utterly possessed.

You cry out at the sensation, head thrown back; if not for the cuffs you'd be clawing at his back. "Oh my god..." you whimper. "Pedro..." His name on your lips comes out half-sob, half-moan. He stills, buried deep, allowing you to accommodate him. You feel so stretched, so vulnerable, tied up and blindfolded with this large man inside you. And you feel amazing.

He kisses you softly, tenderly, lingering for a long moment while you both just revel in the feeling. His hand finds yours, fingers entwining in a reassuring squeeze above your head. It's oddly sweet and grounding in the midst of such raw passion. "Doing okay?" he asks, slightly breathless.

You manage a smile between panting breaths. "More than okay," you assure him. "Please move." You roll your hips a little to emphasize your need, earning a hiss of pleasure from him as your movement squeezes him inside you.

"As you wish," he replies, and you can hear a smile in his tone.

He withdraws slowly until just the tip remains inside, then thrusts back in with a controlled, firm stroke. The friction of him dragging against your inner walls makes stars explode behind your eyelids. You choke out a moan. He starts a steady rhythm then – pulling out and sliding back in, gradually increasing the pace as he gauges your reactions.

His hands grip your hips, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he picks up speed. The bed creaks softly with the force of his thrusts now. The room fills with an erotic melody: your helpless cries and gasps, his ragged grunts, the slap of skin on skin as his hips meet your thighs. He pounds into you, each stroke hitting deep and rubbing that perfect spot inside that makes you see white-hot pleasure.

Your bound hands clench uselessly above you, desperate to cling to something. The coil in your belly that had been wound tight from earlier starts tightening again quickly – too quickly. You realize with a start that you're already on the brink from how expertly he's fucking you, combined with the earlier denial. And he hasn't given you permission yet.

Desperately, you try to hold back, to last longer. But Pedro knows. He can feel the way your pussy is fluttering and clenching erratically around him as your body races toward release.

He slows his thrusts deliberately, grinding into you deeply but more slowly, holding you just at the edge. It's agony and ecstasy. You actually sob, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes under the blindfold from the intensity of needing to come so badly.

"P-please... please, sir," you beg in a broken whisper, not caring how desperate you sound. "I c-can't... please let me cum."

Pedro lowers himself onto his forearms, changing the angle slightly as his face comes right next to yours. His thrusts remain slow and torturous. His breath is hot on your ear as he speaks, voice gravelly with restraint.

"You want to cum, sweet girl?" he drawls, licking a stripe up the side of your neck that makes you shudder. "You've been so good for me... took your spanking so well, let me tie you up and use you... such a perfect little submissive."

His words are like fire, each one fueling your desire. You nod frantically, a tear finally escaping down your cheek from sheer overwhelming need.

He kisses that tear away softly, a brief tender gesture that contrasts with the edgy control he's exerting. "Shh, don't cry. I'll take care of you," he whispers, and those words themselves feel as comforting as a caress. "You want to cum?" he repeats, speeding up just a fraction, his hips snapping a little harder into yours again. "Then cum for me. Come on, baby, let go. You've earned it."

The permission – so graciously given in that rough, sexy voice – is all you needed. You don't hold back; you can't at this point even if you tried. Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave.

You let out a wail as your entire body tenses, then shatters into pure ecstasy. Your pussy clenches violently around Pedro’s cock, pulsing in waves as you cum harder than you ever have in your life. Pleasure ribbons out from your core to every limb. It's so intense, it's almost overwhelming – tears leak from your eyes beneath the blindfold as you sob through the euphoria.

"That's it... fuck, yes, that's it!" Pedro groans. Feeling you cum pushes him right to the edge. He curses under his breath in a mix of English and Spanish, his control finally shattering. With a few more hard thrusts, he holds himself deep inside you and lets go.

His body shudders above you as he releases, hot spurts filling you as he moans your name. The sensation of him coming inside only prolongs your orgasm; you swear you feel each pulse of him as another aftershock ripples through your own body.

He collapses against you, catching most of his weight on his elbows so he doesn't crush you completely, but enough that you feel deliciously pinned by his spent body. Both of you are gasping for air, trembling in the aftermath.

Your heart feels like it's pounding in your throat, and your limbs are heavy and boneless in the wake of such an intense climax. You distantly note that your cheeks are wet from a few tears, but you're too blissed-out to care or feel self-conscious.

For a long moment, the only sound is the mingled panting of your breaths and the muted bass from outside. Still blindfolded and bound, you float in a haze of satisfaction. Pedro peppers soft, lazy kisses along your jaw and neck as you both come down, murmuring praise between each one.

"You did so well," he whispers, voice hoarse but gentle. "So perfect, cariño."

Each word of praise warms your chest with a different kind of pleasure – pride, contentment, even love. With your hands still bound, you can only tilt your head toward his kisses, silently showing your appreciation.

Eventually, he gently withdraws from your oversensitive body, making you both hiss at the aftershocks. You feel suddenly empty without him, but the loss is soon replaced by gratitude as he moves swiftly to untie your wrists.

The leather cuffs come loose and your arms are finally free. They ache dully from being restrained in one position for so long. You flex your fingers, and before you can even wince at the soreness, Pedro's hands are there rubbing your wrists softly, massaging away any stiffness.

He reaches behind your head and carefully unties the blindfold, pulling it away from your eyes. You blink a few times, adjusting to the low light.

The first thing you see is his face hovering above yours, concern evident in his furrowed brow. His hair is a sweaty mess, curls sticking to his forehead, and his lips are kiss-swollen. To you, he’s never looked more gorgeous.

"Hi," you whisper with a tired smile, meeting his gaze.

He smiles back, relief and tenderness in his expression. "Hi, hermosa." He brushes his thumbs over your cheeks, wiping away the wetness there. "These okay? Not tears of anything bad?" he asks softly, referring to the tears you shed at the peak of it all.

You shake your head, leaning into his touch. "They were... very good tears," you assure him with a soft laugh. "That was just... intense." A flush warms your face as you recall how desperate and loud you got. "In a good way," you add quickly, not wanting him to worry.

His shoulders relax and he chuckles quietly. "Intense is one word for it." He leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your lips, this time slow and sweet – a stark contrast to the feral kisses from before. You sigh contentedly into it, wrapping your now-free arms around him to hold him close.

You both linger like that for a while, trading soft kisses and tender touches as you bask in the afterglow. Pedro’s hands roam over you in light caresses, as if he can't get enough of touching your body – but now those touches are soothing, affectionate strokes along your sides, your hips, your thighs. He handles you like something precious, and it makes your chest tight with a warm emotion that goes beyond simple lust.

At one point he breaks the comfortable silence, murmuring, "Stay here, I'll be right back." He slips off the bed, and you watch, unabashedly admiring the full view of his naked form as he walks to a small en-suite bathroom attached to the room.

The red light bathes his muscular back and perfect ass in a flattering glow. You bite your lip, already feeling a pleasant ache between your legs that will no doubt remind you of him for days.

Pedro returns with a warm, damp washcloth and a bottle of water. Ever thoughtful, he tends to you first, gently cleaning the stickiness from between your thighs and wherever else the evidence of your lovemaking lingers.

His touch is careful and respectful, almost reverent as he cleans you, making sure not to overstimulate now-sensitive areas. It’s such an intimate, caring gesture that your heart swells. When he’s done, he helps you sit up enough to take a few sips of water, making sure you're hydrated and okay. You murmur a thank you, touched by his attentiveness.

He then quickly sees to himself with the cloth, wiping his lower abdomen and any remaining wetness. Afterwards, he tosses the cloth aside and joins you back on the bed, pulling you into his arms without hesitation.

You go willingly, nestling against his chest. He’s warm and solid, and his natural scent mixed with a hint of sweat is oddly comforting in the aftermath of sex. One of his arms wraps around your back, the other hand comes up to stroke your hair.

"You alright?" he asks softly after a moment, breaking the comfortable silence. There’s a hint of vulnerability in his tone, as if he's truly concerned that he might have been too rough or that you might regret this.

You tilt your head up to meet his gaze. His brown eyes search yours, and all you can see in them now is a gentle earnestness that makes you smile. "I'm perfect," you reply, and you mean it. "That was... beyond anything I imagined." A light laugh escapes you. "You, Pedro Pascal, definitely live up to your reputation."

He laughs at that, a real, warm laugh that rumbles in his chest under your cheek. "Oh? And what reputation is that?"

You pretend to consider, your fingers idly tracing patterns on his chest. "Heartthrob. Charmer. And, based on tonight... very skilled." The last part you add in a teasing whisper, and you feel his chest vibrate as he chuckles again.

"I'm glad I haven't disappointed," he says, tilting your chin up with a knuckle so he can steal another soft kiss. His expression grows a bit more serious afterward, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "You were amazing. So responsive and trusting." He smirks then, adding, "And just the right amount of bratty."

You giggle, feeling heat rise in your cheeks at his praise. A comfortable lull falls between you as you both simply enjoy the closeness. It's surprising, perhaps, how natural it feels to lie here in the arms of a man you technically just met tonight.

But something about the intensity of what you shared feels bonding – as if you've known each other longer. The way he's holding you, warm and protective, you certainly feel cared for.

Eventually, you know you'll have to leave the room and step back into reality. But for now, wrapped up in this sensual afterglow, you allow yourself to just be. You pepper a tiny kiss on his collarbone and sigh happily, closing your eyes.

Pedro shifts slightly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from your face. "Penny for your thoughts?" he asks quietly.

You smile against his skin. "Just thinking how I don't want this night to end," you admit softly. It's a vulnerable confession, but in this red-lit cocoon of a private room, with your body still humming from multiple orgasms and your heart fluttering with endorphins, it feels right to be honest.

He pulls you a little tighter, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "It doesn't have to, not yet," he murmurs. "We have the room for as long as we want." There's a comforting promise in his tone.

You tilt your head up. "As long as we want, hm?" You raise an eyebrow playfully. "Planning to keep me all night?"

His eyes darken a fraction, that familiar smolder returning just a bit. "If I had my way, I'd keep you much longer." He says it with a half-smile, but you sense the sincerity beneath it. "At least until we work through that entire wall of toys." He nods toward the array of BDSM implements displayed, a mischievous glint in his eye now.

Your breath catches at the idea, a fresh flicker of arousal stirring in your belly despite your satiation. You laugh softly, feigning exasperation. "Insatiable," you accuse, but your grin gives you away.

He laughs and nuzzles into your hair. "For you? Absolutely." Then he takes a deep breath, voice turning earnest once more.

"I'd love to see you again after tonight... if you want." The hint of uncertainty – almost shyness – in his proposition is endearing coming from a man who just had you tied up and screaming his name.

You answer by lifting up enough to kiss him deeply, pouring your gratitude and enthusiasm into it. When you part, you whisper, "I do want." You rest your forehead against his, smiling. "Maybe we can explore that list of favorite bands we talked about over drinks, and then some."

The grin that spreads across Pedro's face is radiant. "It's a date," he says softly, sealing the promise with another tender kiss.

Later, wrapped in his arms, the room still scented like sex and skin and sweat, he kissed your shoulder and said softly, “Next time, I’m tying myself up. Let you have your way.”

You smirked. “You wouldn’t last five minutes.”

His laugh was pure sin. “Now that sounds like a challenge.”

AN: This.... ended up a LOT longer than anticipated. Huge love to all my plus-size babes—you deserve to be worshipped and ruined just like this. 💋 There’s definitely potential for a part 2 👀 I’m already thinking about what happens after this night. Let me know if you’d want to see it continue!

[whimsiwitchy]

I hear the secrets that you keep (series) masterlist

last updated: august 23, 2024

Pedro Pascal x plus size F!reader 

series summary: 24 year old y/n is an insecure and struggling actress in Los Angeles until she finally books a leading role in a big Hollywood movie next to her leading male, Pedro Pascal. A spark of friendship flickers between the two and slowly begins to blossom into something more. As y/n is navigating a new found fame and a new found romance, she fears that a lie she has been sitting on might ruin everything.

Warnings: plus size afab reader, she/her pronouns, use of y/n, swearing, age gap (24/14 years), descriptions of the female body, use of the word fat, descriptions of a bigger body (stretch marks, cellulite, rolls, etc.), descriptions of nudity, sexual themes. 

Please let me know if I missed anything! Warnings may change as the story progresses.

chapter one: a new beginning

chapter two: life isn't real

chapter three: you make me nervous

chapter four: wicked game

chapter five: i missed you

chapter six: 24

chapter seven: k.

chapter eight: coming soon...

[thewritersaddictions]

Day Fifthteen: Pedro Pascal + Face Sitting

Pedro knows you like the back of his hand. He knows when you're so fucking exicting that you move around lot in your sleep. He knows when you're angry as someone because it reads all over your face. He also knows when you're nervous about something.

You pace around the house unable to stay still or just in one place. The house is a wreak, blankets thrown all over the couch. The kitchen is a mess from your trying to get some baking done, but the cookies came out a little wonky and now your frusted with that as well.

Everything is just going wrong.

He can see that way you're downspirling very quickly. He's watching you from the corner of his eye on the couch. The volume on the TV is low, some comerial runs on the screen as he gets up setting his book down and getting up in search of you.

The kitchen is empty now, so he follows the notise of you pacing cirlces upstairs. Your shared bedroom door is creaked open. "Baby?" He asks into the room. You hum. You're sitting at the edge of the bed.

"What's wrong?" Pedro asks as he comes to sit next to you. Your shurg your shoulders at first, and then you start to ramble. Words fumbling out of your mouth and then all the sudden Pedro gets up.

You follow his movement as Pedro rounds the corner of the bed. Sitting on the bed before slipping his shoes off and settling ontop the covers. "What are you doing?" You ask him. He wiggles a littel further down, so his head sits perfeclty on the pillow.

"I'm getting comfortable so when I ask you to come over here and sit that pretty little pussy of my face you'll do it." Pedro says with a straight face. The rambling from beofre hand has been about a lot of things, but some of it had been about the weight you had gained during the winter season and now that spring was here you were starting to regret ever eating anything during the holidays.

"WHAT!" You shirek as you look at your very calm boyfriend laying on the bed licking his lips. "Why?" You ask, he rolls his eyes. "What is this 72 questions? I just want to eat my girls pusy out so she'll stop thinking about everything for a few moments." He says warmly quirking a brow up in a ever so teasing manner.

"But…" "There are no buts, besides that pretty one I want up here right now." Pedro says coaxing you closer to him. "Come on hermosa, come sit on my face and let me tell you how good you taste, how much you mean to me. Let me show you mi amor."

He knows he's got you when you slip your shirt over your shoulders and head, when your sweats come falling down into a pile around your feet along with your slutty, lacy panties.

He helps you, outreaching his hand to support you as your climb up onto the bed and crawl over his body. Still fully clothed and you see what you do to his body. Evidence of his hard erection in his blue washed jeans.

"Mi Amor don't you worry about me, just put that pussy up on my face and let me take care of the rest." You listen postioning each thigh on either side of Pedro head. One hand leans on the headrest for support and the other is combing through Pedros thick greying locks of hair.

"There we go princesa, just like that." He says guiding you down onto his lips. His hands are clasped around your ass. He sits you the rest of the way down. His nose nudges into your clit and your shiver at the sensation. Hot breath blows on your cold pussy breathing a new sort of life into you.

"You smell so good hermosa." He mutters into your pussy. "Oh fuck." You moan, just him talking into your pussy already has you wanting his tongue more.

His tongue lays flat agasint your entrance. "Fuck and you taste so good mi amor." The next thing you now theres no more talking, just his tongue attacking your clit and weeping entrance as if he's just come back from the desert and he's dying of thirst.

You grind into him now, aching for more. Yearning for more then just his tongue at this point. Your knuckles go white as your hold onto the headrest for dear life. Pedro fingers dig into the meat of your ass as his nudges into your clit with grind of your hips.

"Fuck me, fuck Pedro… I'm gonna…" Your moans are like music to his ears and edges his further on. His pants are tight, but he doesn't care. "Cum baby." He mutters into your wet pussy.

Vibrations sent up your core as you shirke with joy and euphoria. Your legs shake and your head falls forward. "There we go angel, doesn't that feel better now?" Pedro says licking his lips.

He helps you shift to the bed. Your body hot and aching from your orgasm. "Hmm." You hum and close your eyes resting for a moment.

No racing thought, or anything else pass through your head as the two of you sit in quiet peace on your bed together.

Completed on: 10/19/24

Posted on: 10/20/24

Kinktober 24'-

[andy-15-07]

Hii Andy!! I was wondering if you'd be up for writing a Pedro x famous trainer reader fic? I'd love it if the reader was the one helping Pedro with his jaw-dropping biceps for the Cannes and overall physique for the fantastic 4. It'd be awesome if the story was a slow burn — like they start off with a professional relationship, then become friends, stop working together, and only after that they start dating.Thanks a bunch! 🥹🫶🏻

Built to Last

PAIRING:Pedro Pascal x reader

WORD COUNT: 879| requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist | Pedro Pascal Masterlist II

“Day One” , Six Months Before Cannes

“You’re late,” you said, not looking up from your clipboard as you heard the gym door creak open.

“I brought protein muffins,” came a voice rich with charm,and a bit too much confidence.

You glanced up, arching a brow. “Pedro Pascal bribing his trainer on day one. Bold move.”

Pedro laughed, setting the muffins down. “It’s called positive reinforcement.”

“Cute. Now put that ego on the treadmill and start with a warm-up.”

He obeyed, to your mild surprise, peeling off his hoodie to reveal toned,but not yet Marvel-grade,arms. The man had potential, sure. But you’d been hired for a reason.

“No shortcuts,” you called out. “You’re going to suffer, Pascal.”

He grinned. “Can’t wait.”

One Month In , Friends or Something Like It

“You’re quieter today,” Pedro said between reps, arms trembling under the weight of his bicep curls. You watched the muscles flex, the definition starting to show after weeks of hellish training.

“I don’t talk when I’m impressed,” you said, jotting notes.

“So I’ve been unimpressive until now?” he teased, smirking.

You smirked right back. “You're just now catching up to my standards.”

You weren’t supposed to banter this much. You weren’t supposed to notice how often he looked at you after a tough set or how his smiles lingered just a little too long. But you did.

And one day, after a brutal TRX circuit, Pedro sat on the mat and let out a long sigh.

“Are you always this hard on your clients?”

You leaned against the wall, sipping from your bottle. “Only the ones worth the effort.”

He looked up at you. “That a compliment?”

You shrugged. “Take it how you want.”

Three Months In , The Shift

Pedro was nearly there. His body was Marvel-ready: arms sculpted, core lean, posture confident. You’d seen dozens of transformations in your career, but none that made your chest feel tight like this.

You tried to stay distant. Professional. But when he asked you to stay late one night, just to run lines with him while doing resistance bands, you didn’t say no.

“I feel like I’m gonna drop dead,” he panted, sweat rolling down his neck.

“You won’t. You’re stronger than you think.”

He looked over at you. “So are you.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward,it was charged.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do when this is over,” he said suddenly.

You forced a smile. “You’ll be in France. Shirtless. Flaunting my hard work.”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah, but… I think I’ll miss this.”

You swallowed. “It’s just training, Pedro.”

He didn’t argue. But neither of you really believed that.

Cannes – Day of the Photoshoot

Pedro looked like sin in sleeveless black. Your work on his arms was spectacular. And it made your stomach twist to know that you were no longer his trainer.

The studio had wrapped your contract two weeks ago,your part was done. You were supposed to be onto the next client. But Pedro had insisted you come.

For "support," he said.

“You know,” he said quietly, walking up beside you between shots, “I still follow your meal plans. Mostly.”

You smiled. “Color me shocked.”

“And I still think about the gym. About us.”

Your breath caught. “Pedro,”

“I know. I said I’d keep it professional,” he cut in, scratching the back of his neck. “But you’re not my trainer anymore.”

The truth lingered between you. You weren’t.

“And maybe we could just… see where this goes?” he asked, voice softer now. “No pressure. No sets. Just,coffee?”

You tilted your head, heart hammering. “Are you asking me out?”

His grin was crooked, nervous. “Is that a ‘yes’?”

You paused. Then smiled.

“Only if you promise not to flex on the first date.”

Two Weeks Later , First Date

The café was small, tucked away from paparazzi and the chaos of post-Cannes buzz. Pedro wore a hoodie, sunglasses, and a sheepish smile.

“So this is weird,” he said, stirring his coffee.

“Weirder than you doing push-ups while quoting The Mandalorian?”

He laughed. “Okay, fair.”

There was a pause,comfortable, familiar. You were both easing into something new, something tentative but deeply wanted.

“You were the best trainer I’ve ever had,” he said suddenly.

You sipped your drink. “I hope that’s not your pickup line.”

“No,” he said seriously. “I just wanted you to know I didn’t fall for you because you made me look good.”

You blinked. “You fell for me?”

He looked up at you. “Yeah. I think I did.”

Two Months Later , A New Routine

It was strange not seeing Pedro in the gym every day, but you found a rhythm. You visited set sometimes. He showed up to your morning sessions with other clients, always waiting until you were done before stealing you away for lunch.

You still teased him about form. He still bragged about his arms. But now, you were kissing between reps and holding hands when no one was watching.

One morning, you caught him staring as you organized your equipment.

“What?” you asked.

He shrugged. “Just thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

He walked over, pulling you close. “Just… lucky I got you.”

You leaned into him. “No reps. No contracts. Just us.”

He nodded, forehead against yours.

“Built to last.”

[theetherealbloom]

Your Love Feels Like A Sunday When You Got Nowhere To Go

Summary: You are Pedro’s date to the SNL 50 celebration as his newly engaged fiancée.

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Established Relationship, TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Suggestive Content, little SMUT, PiV, Dirty Talk, Short but sweet smut, Slight Angst, Swearing, Anxiety, Surrounded by A-Listers, Dancing, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Red Carpet, Cameras, Paparazzi, Long Distance, Timezone Difference, Social Media, Interviews, I’m not a Spanish speaker, I might be wrong with the terms, please don’t come after me T^T,

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: Hi! Yes, I am still working on It Could Happen To You. School is being a bitch and I’m just in a weird headspace rn lol.  Anyway, since this is basically a series now… I’ll make a series masterlist for this soon tehe.

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

Song: Your Love by JISOO

PEDRO PASCAL MAIN MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST |

THE BOWERY HOTEL — DAY 

You arrived a day before the taping of the SNL 50th anniversary show, the energy of New York buzzing all around you. But inside the hotel suite, it was just you and Pedro, wrapped up in a world of your own.

Sweet, romantic Pedro. The man who hadn’t stopped calling you wife since he slid that engagement ring onto your finger.

You twirled the sparkling diamond under the dim lighting, still not quite believing it was real. It had been just over a month since Pedro had proposed, and somehow, you were still catching yourself staring at it in disbelief.

From across the room, Pedro watched you, his lips curling into a smirk as he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.

“Caught you staring again,” he teased, voice warm with amusement.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “It’s new. Let me have my moment.”

He pushed off the doorway, crossing the room in a few strides before wrapping his arms around your waist. “It’s not new to me,” he murmured against your temple. “I’ve known you were mine for a long time.”

You sighed dramatically, tilting your head back to look at him. “I’m not your wife yet, Pascal.”

Pedro hummed, his nose brushing against your cheek as he whispered, “Hmm… nah. You are.”

You swatted at his chest, but the way his eyes twinkled made your heart melt.

“You’re impossible.”

He grinned. “And yet, you love me.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” you muttered, but the smile on your face betrayed you.

Pedro chuckled at your faux annoyance, his warm breath ghosting against your lips as he leaned in. “You’re so cute when you pretend to be mad at me,” he murmured, tilting your chin up with his fingers before capturing your lips in a deep, slow kiss.

You melted instantly, hands threading into his hair as his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him. The kiss grew hungrier, his lips moving against yours with a languid sort of urgency, like he was savoring every second.

His hands roamed—one resting on the small of your back, the other slipping beneath the hem of your robe, fingertips teasing against your bare skin. A soft hum escaped you as his mouth trailed along your jaw, down the curve of your neck.

And then it hit you.

“Wait—” You gasped, breathless, gently pushing at his chest. “We have lunch with Javiera.”

Pedro groaned dramatically, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. “Mierda.”

You giggled as he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his expression somewhere between frustration and mischief. “Did I forget to mention I invited her to watch you perform?”

“You did,” he huffed, pouting slightly. “And I love that she’s coming. I do. But do we have to be on time?”

You gave him a pointed look.

Pedro sighed, rolling his eyes playfully. “Fine. Fine.” He took a step back, raking a hand through his already tousled hair. “But just so you know, you owe me later.”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Owe you?”

“Oh, cariño.” His voice dropped to a sinful murmur as he trailed a slow finger down your arm. “Later tonight, I’m going to have my way with you.”

A shiver ran down your spine, but you smirked, smoothing your robe as if unaffected. “We’ll see about that, Pascal.”

His grin was full of promise. “Oh, we will.”

THE BOWERY HOTEL — AFTERNOON  

Lunch with Javiera was set at a quiet corner table in the hotel's restaurant, a space that offered just enough privacy for a family catch-up without feeling too closed off. The scent of fresh bread and herbs lingered in the air as you sipped on a glass of chilled wine, the engagement ring on your finger catching the soft afternoon light.  

Javiera beamed as she reached for your hand, examining the ring for what was probably the fifth time since you sat down. “It looks even better in person,” she said, her voice warm with affection. “I still can’t believe you two are finally engaged.”  

Pedro, seated beside you, chuckled as he reached for a piece of bread. “Finally? What’s that supposed to mean?”  

Javiera gave him a knowing look. “Oh, come on. Everyone saw this coming except you.”  

You laughed, nudging Pedro playfully. “See? Told you.”  

He huffed dramatically. “Unbelievable. My own sister conspiring against me.”  

Javiera grinned, sipping her drink. “I’m just saying, I’ve seen the way you look at her. The way you talk about her when she’s not around. You’ve been a goner for a long time, hermano.”  

Pedro didn’t even try to deny it. Instead, he turned to you, a soft smirk playing on his lips. “Guilty as charged.”  

You rolled your eyes, but your heart melted at the way he was looking at you. Before you could say anything, the waiter arrived with your meals, setting down plates of fresh seafood and warm pasta.  

Javiera leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “So, have you two started thinking about the wedding?”  

Pedro answered before you could. “She keeps saying she’s not my wife yet, but I don’t know… feels pretty official to me.”  

You groaned. “Pedro.”  

Javiera laughed, shaking her head. “He’s never going to let that go.”  

Pedro grinned, cutting into his food. “Nope.”  

You sighed dramatically, but you couldn’t hide your smile. “We haven’t talked about it too much yet. Everything’s been moving so fast. But we will.”  

Javiera nodded in understanding. “Well, no matter what you decide, just know the entire family is already planning in their heads. Mom is probably dreaming up wedding decorations as we speak.”  

Pedro groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Dios mío.”  

You giggled, squeezing his hand under the table. “At least we know it’ll be a party.”  

Javiera smirked. “A very loud one.”  

As the lunch carried on, the conversation flowed effortlessly, filled with teasing, reminiscing, and warmth. The afternoon sun streamed in through the windows, casting a golden glow over the table, and you found yourself stealing glances at Pedro every now and then—marveling at the fact that this was your life now.  

Engaged. In love. Surrounded by family.  

And if Pedro had his way, he’d be calling you his wife a lot sooner than you expected. 

THE BOWERY HOTEL — EVENING

After a long, exciting day, you and Pedro decided to call it an early night, opting for the comfort of your hotel room over any glamorous outings. Room service had just arrived, and the two of you sat on the plush bed, plates of warm pasta and glasses of wine spread out between you. The room was dimly lit, the soft golden glow of the bedside lamps casting a cozy warmth over everything.

Pedro swirled his wine glass lazily, leaning back against the headboard with a contented sigh. “This is perfect,” he murmured, glancing at you with the softest eyes. “No loud crowds, no cameras—just us.”

You grinned, taking a bite of your pasta before setting your fork down. “I still can’t believe you’re going to be on SNL again. It feels like just yesterday we were watching your first episode from our couch.”

Pedro chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, and I was nervous as hell back then.”

“You were incredible, though,” you said earnestly, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “And you’ll be even better this time. I’m so proud of you, Pedro. Not just for this, but for everything. For who you are.”

His ears tinged pink, and he let out a bashful laugh, shaking his head. “Stop, you’re gonna make me all emotional.”

“I mean it,” you insisted, scooting closer. “You work so hard, and you never let the pressure change who you are. That’s why people love you. That’s why I love you.”

Pedro set his wine glass aside and turned to face you fully, his expression melting into something unbearably tender. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he murmured, brushing his knuckles along your cheek. “But I thank whatever force in the universe brought you into my life every damn day.”

You smiled, warmth blooming in your chest. “You’re just saying that because I let you steal half my food.”

Pedro smirked, feigning innocence. “Who, me? Never.”

Before you could protest, his fingers darted to your waist, tickling you mercilessly. A shriek escaped your lips as you collapsed onto the bed, writhing in laughter. “Pedro! No—stop! I’m gonna spill the wine!”

He was laughing just as hard, his face split into the most joyful grin as he kept at it. “Not until you take back that accusation!”

Through uncontrollable giggles, you tried to escape, but he was relentless, his hands finding every ticklish spot. “Okay, okay! You’re innocent! You’re a saint!” you gasped between bursts of laughter.

Pedro finally relented, collapsing beside you, both of you breathless from laughing. You turned to face him, your eyes still shining with amusement, but the moment shifted as his gaze softened, darkening with something deeper. His hand brushed over your cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of your jawline.

“You really do mean the world to me,” he murmured, his voice hushed and full of emotion.

Your breath hitched as his lips met yours, slow and deliberate, the laughter between you fading into something softer, needier. His hand slid to the back of your neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, and you melted into him, sighing against his mouth. His body pressed against yours, the warmth of him seeping into your skin as he kissed you like he had all the time in the world.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently, and he groaned into your mouth, his hands roaming down your back, pulling you closer until there wasn’t an inch of space between you. The air grew thick, charged with heat and unspoken promises. Pedro’s lips trailed down your jaw to your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse point just enough to make you shiver.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and rough.

You exhaled shakily, tilting your head back as his hands explored, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, tracing slow circles over your bare skin. “Then maybe we should do something about it,” you whispered, your own hands sliding under his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin.

Pedro didn’t need to be told twice.  

The moment your lips met, any remaining restraint melted away. His hands gripped your hips, fingers pressing into your skin like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. The heat between you was intoxicating, a slow burn that built with every kiss, every teasing graze of his fingertips over your exposed skin.  

His mouth was hungry, insatiable, devouring you with a passion that made your breath hitch. He kissed you like he’d been starving for you, like he was trying to drown himself in the taste of you. His tongue swept against yours, deep and slow, coaxing a soft whimper from your lips that only spurred him on.  

“Fuck,” he groaned against your mouth, his voice thick with desire. “You have no idea what you do to me, cariño.”  

You gasped as he rolled his hips against yours, the hard press of him igniting something primal deep within you. Your fingers fisted in the fabric of his shirt, desperate to feel more—more of him, more of his warmth, more of the intoxicating way he made your body feel like it was on fire.  

“Then show me,” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, but Pedro heard it loud and clear.  

His answering smirk was sinful. “Oh, I plan to.”  

In one swift motion, he flipped you onto your back, settling between your legs. The weight of him pressed you into the mattress in the most delicious way, making you arch into him instinctively. His hands wandered, sliding beneath your shirt, fingertips skimming over your stomach before tracing a slow, teasing path upward.  

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin just beneath your jaw. “I’ll never get tired of looking at you. Touching you.”  

You shivered under his touch as he pushed your shirt up higher, his fingers grazing over your bare skin with a maddening slowness. His lips followed, trailing soft, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, across your collarbone, lower and lower, until he reached the edge of your bra. He paused, glancing up at you with hooded eyes, silently asking for permission even now.  

“Pedro,” you whined, your body arching toward him, desperate for more. “Please.”  

That single word sent a visible shudder through him, his control hanging by a thread. “Fuck, baby,” he muttered before finally peeling your shirt off, his eyes darkening at the sight of you beneath him.  

His lips were everywhere—on your throat, your shoulders, the swell of your breasts. He took his time worshipping you, his hands and mouth exploring every inch of exposed skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. The contrast of his rough stubble against your soft skin made you gasp, sending a delicious ache straight to your core.  

“You’re killing me,” you murmured, your nails digging into his back as he teased you, his lips hovering just above where you needed him most.  

Pedro chuckled, his breath hot against your skin. “Patience, mi amor.” But the way his voice wavered, the way his own body trembled against yours, told you he was just as desperate.  

And then—finally—his mouth was on you, his kisses turning scorching, his hands gripping your thighs as he moved lower.  

The next moments were a blur of pleasure, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, his touch unraveling you until you were nothing but gasps and moans beneath him. Every flick of his tongue, every slow grind of his hips against yours sent you spiraling higher and higher, until you shattered beneath him, trembling, breathless, completely undone.  

Pedro didn’t stop. Not yet. He guided you through the aftershocks, whispering sweet praises against your flushed skin, his voice raw with love and desire. “That’s my girl,” he murmured. “So fucking perfect for me.”  

When you finally opened your eyes, dazed and blissed out, Pedro was hovering above you, his gaze soft but filled with something deeper—something more than just desire.  

“I love you,” he whispered, brushing damp hair away from your face. “Always.”  

Your heart swelled, your body still humming with pleasure as you reached up to cup his cheek, running your thumb over the stubble there. “I love you too,” you murmured, pulling him down for a slow, languid kiss.  

And as he wrapped you up in his arms, bodies tangled beneath the sheets, you knew—there was no place in the world you’d rather be.

THE NEXT DAY…  

THE BOWERY HOTEL — AFTERNOON

The hotel room buzzed with energy, a symphony of laughter, light conversation, and the occasional pop of a hairspray bottle. Your glam team moved around you in a carefully choreographed dance, curling strands of hair, blending makeup, and adjusting the final touches of your red-carpet look. The air smelled of floral-scented powders and expensive serums, mixing with the faint, crisp scent of fresh linens from the open balcony door.  

It was a beautiful afternoon in New York, golden sunlight pouring through the sheer curtains, casting a warm glow over everything. The excitement in the room was palpable—not just for the event, but for you.  

“So,” one of the hairstylists, Bella, said with a teasing grin as she ran a brush through your hair, “how does it feel to be engaged to Hollywood’s most beloved man?”  

You let out a soft laugh, glancing at yourself in the mirror as the makeup artist dusted a final touch of highlighter on your cheekbones. “Surreal, honestly. I keep waiting for someone to shake me awake and tell me it’s all a dream.”  

Another stylist, Marie, chimed in, hands on her hips as she admired your nearly finished look. “Well, if it is a dream, you’re living in the most romantic one ever. That ring? Stunning. And the way he looks at you? Girl, you won.”  

Your heart squeezed at her words, warmth blooming in your chest. You knew exactly what she meant—Pedro had a way of looking at you like you were his entire world, like nothing else mattered when you were in the same room. Even after all this time, it still made you breathless.  

As if on cue, the door creaked open, and in walked Pedro, freshly showered, the scent of his cologne—a mix of cedar, citrus, and something undeniably him—filling the room. His tousled curls were still damp, his beard neatly trimmed, and he wore a fitted brown V-neck shirt that clung to him in all the right ways, paired with black dress pants that hugged his hips perfectly. A blazer hung over his arm, though from the easy smirk on his lips, he didn’t seem in any hurry to put it on.  

And, of course, he was grinning.  

“Talking about me?” he mused, his voice carrying that familiar playful lilt as he sauntered in, hands casually slipping into his pockets.  

Your stylists all exchanged knowing looks before Bella smirked. “Oh, always.”  

Pedro chuckled, then placed his hands on the back of your chair, leaning down so his face appeared beside yours in the mirror. His deep brown eyes flickered over your reflection, admiration evident in his gaze. “Damn, Hermosa…” His voice dropped lower, more reverent. “I might have to fight off every person at this event just to keep their eyes off you.”  

Your stomach flipped at the intensity in his tone.  

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress the giddy smile tugging at your lips. “Smooth.”  

“I’m serious,” he murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to your bare shoulder. The heat of his lips against your skin sent a shiver down your spine, your breath catching in your throat.  

Marie let out a dreamy sigh. “Ugh. The romance.”  

Pedro straightened, clapping his hands together with a playful grin. “Alright, alright. I’ll leave you all to it. Just needed to see my girl before we head out.”  

But as he turned to leave, he caught your gaze in the mirror again, his expression softening into something deeper, something unspoken. And then—he winked.  

A flutter of warmth spread through your chest, and you realized something.  

No matter how many times you saw him, no matter how many times he looked at you like you were the only person in the world—you would never get used to it.  

As the final touches were made, you finally stepped into your dress—a breathtaking gown that made you feel like a dream. It was an elegant yet modern off-the-shoulder number, the fabric a deep, rich shade that complemented your skin tone perfectly. The fitted bodice flattered your curves, while the flowing skirt trailed behind you like a soft cascade of silk.  

You took a steadying breath, smoothing your hands down the fabric before turning toward the door—where Pedro was waiting.  

He was already dressed in his full look, a classic black suit tailored to perfection, the crisp white dress shirt beneath unbuttoned at the collar just enough to drive you a little insane. His salt-and-pepper curls were styled just so, his beard neatly trimmed, and his warm brown eyes—those eyes that always made you feel like the only person in the room—were already locked on you.  

And when you stepped into his view, his breath audibly hitched.  

"Dios mío…" His voice was barely above a whisper, but you heard it, felt the weight of it settle deep in your chest.  

A slow, smitten smile tugged at your lips. “You clean up pretty well yourself, Pascal.”  

Pedro exhaled a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over his heart as he took a step closer. “Mi amor, if I wasn’t already planning to marry you, I’d be proposing again right now.”  

You let out a breathless laugh, warmth blooming in your chest. “You’re ridiculous.”  

“I’m serious.” His hands found your waist, his fingers brushing lightly over the fabric as he shook his head in disbelief. “I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful in my life. And I mean that. Completely. No exaggeration.”  

Your throat tightened, emotions swelling too fast, too much, because—God, how did he do this to you? How did he make you feel so seen, so loved, so entirely his without even trying?  

You swallowed hard, blinking up at him. “Pedro, you can’t say things like that.”  

He frowned slightly, tilting his head. “Why not?”  

“Because…” Your voice wavered, and you let out a soft, almost disbelieving laugh. “Because you’re going to make me cry.”  

Pedro’s expression melted into something impossibly tender. “Oh, baby…” He cupped your face instantly, his thumb tracing along your cheek as he studied you, his own eyes glassy now. “Then let’s cry together. Because fuck, I love you so much, I don’t know what to do with it sometimes.”  

Your breath hitched, a tear slipping free before you could stop it. Pedro caught it with his thumb, brushing it away before leaning in, pressing the gentlest kiss to your lips—like he was sealing in everything he couldn’t say.  

You clutched his lapels, pulling him closer. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”  

Pedro huffed out a soft laugh, resting his forehead against yours. “You existed, mi amor. That’s all you ever had to do.”  

A choked laugh left your lips as you shook your head. “You’re the most sickeningly romantic man alive.”  

“And you love it,” he teased, his nose nudging against yours.  

“I love you,” you corrected, voice barely above a whisper.  

Pedro pulled back just enough to look at you fully, his expression so full of love, so full of everything that it made your chest ache. He took your hand in his, bringing it to his lips and kissing your engagement ring before intertwining your fingers.  

“You ready?” you murmured, voice still thick with emotion.  

He squeezed your hand, his gaze never leaving yours. “With you?” He smiled, soft and certain. “Always.”  

And with that, you stepped out into the night, hand in hand, heart in heart, ready to take on the world—together.  

ROCKEFELLER CENTER, STUDIO 8H — EARLY EVENING

The moment you stepped out of the car, camera flashes erupted like fireworks.

Pedro’s hand was warm in yours as you both made your way down the red carpet, stopping every few feet to pose for photos. Reporters called out his name, some calling yours, and you couldn’t help but feel a wave of nerves crash over you.

Pedro must have sensed it, because he squeezed your hand, leaning down to whisper, “Breathe, baby. I got you.”

And just like that, the tension melted away.

You reached the interview section, and almost immediately, Entertainment Tonight flagged you both down.

“Pedro! Congratulations on SNL’s 50th! And—oh my gosh, congratulations to both of you on the engagement!”

Pedro beamed, pulling you a little closer. “Thank you. Yeah, it’s been a hell of a year.”

The reporter turned to you. “How does it feel to be engaged to the Pedro Pascal?”

You laughed. “Honestly? Like dating a golden retriever with a credit card.”

Pedro clutched his chest dramatically. “Wow. Wow. Betrayed on live television.”

The reporter laughed. “Well, it’s clear you two are head over heels. Pedro, can we expect wedding bells soon?”

Pedro turned to you, his smile softening. “Whenever she’s ready. No rush. I just know she’s it for me.”

Your heart stuttered.

You turned back to the reporter, your own smile matching his. “Yeah. He’s it for me, too.”

And as the night went on, with the lights, the cameras, and the sea of Hollywood’s biggest stars surrounding you both, you knew—Pedro was right. You were already his.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

STUDIO 8H – SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE 50TH ANNIVERSARY SPECIAL

You loved watching Pedro perform on stage. It was one of your absolute favorite things. The way he commanded the room with effortless charisma, the way he delivered every line with that perfect balance of humor and sincerity, the way he owned the stage—he was a natural. An absolute force.  

And really fucking funny.  

Sitting in the audience, you could barely keep it together. The energy in the studio was electric, but nothing compared to the way your heart pounded watching him up there, in his element, making an entire room—hell, millions of people—laugh like it was the easiest thing in the world.  

And then it happened.  

The skit with Sabrina Carpenter had already been hilarious—Pedro leaning into his role, playing it up with exaggerated expressions and that perfect comedic timing that had everyone in stitches. But when the music kicked in and he suddenly started hip-thrusting into the air, fully committing to the bit with zero hesitation, your jaw unhinged.  

“Oh. My. God,” you breathed, your entire body stiffening as your brain tried to process what you were seeing.  

Javiera, sitting beside you, didn’t miss a thing.   

“Are you—oh my God,” she cackled, smacking your arm. “You’re so done for.”  

You barely registered her words because your entire world had narrowed down to him—Pedro, on stage, grinding the air like it was his job, all while belting out the ridiculous lyrics to the skit’s song.  

Your face was on fire.  

“Shut up,” you hissed, pressing your hands to your face in a weak attempt to cover how absolutely hot and bothered you were.  

Javiera just laughed louder, fully reveling in your suffering. “No, no, no—don’t go all shy now! Own it, babe. That’s your fiancé up there.” She leaned in closer, lowering her voice just enough so only you could hear. “And let’s be real… if he’s that good at hip-thrusting in public—”  

“Javiera!” you choked, shoving her while she doubled over in laughter.  

You turned back to the stage just in time to catch Pedro glance toward the audience, his eyes scanning the crowd before they found you. And oh, the moment he locked onto your completely flustered, scandalized expression, his lips twitched into the smuggest smirk you’d ever seen in your life.  

That bastard knew exactly what he was doing.  

He winked.  

You swore your soul left your body.  

Javiera grabbed your arm, wheezing with laughter. “Oh, you’re in trouble tonight.”  

And yeah. She was absolutely right.

You were in so much trouble.  

But before you could even fully recover from the absolute chaos of Pedro’s hip-thrusting performance, the next skit rolled in—and it wrecked you all over again.  

Pedro walked onto the stage, transformed.  

His usual effortless charm was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a full-blown, committed hillbilly persona. He wore the most ridiculous wig, long and messy, nearly covering his eyes, and a graphic shirt that looked like it had seen better days. The second he opened his mouth, putting on that exaggerated twang and delivering his lines with painstakingly perfect comedic timing, you lost it.  

Javiera was right there with you, grabbing your arm as she wheezed through her laughter. “Oh my God—look at him! I can’t—”  

You could barely breathe. “Stop, I’m actually about to die.”  

Onstage, Woody Harrelson and Kate McKinnon were trying—and failing—to keep straight faces as Pedro went all in on the character, telling some completely unhinged story about how the aliens had abducted him and taken a very inappropriate interest in his “hillbilly butt.”  

And then came the moment—  

Meryl Streep, Meryl fucking Streep, turned to Pedro, trying to deliver her line with composure, but Pedro—your Pedro—gave her this completely deadpan look, blinking beneath that ridiculous wig before delivering a line so absurdly timed, in that perfect hillbilly drawl, that Meryl Streep—the queen of acting herself—broke.  

Her head dipped forward as she cracked up, covering her face, shaking her shoulders, and the entire audience erupted. 

You lost your mind.  

“Oh my God he just made Meryl Streep break character,” you gasped, gripping Javiera’s arm as you struggled to stay upright in your seat. “That’s it. That’s the peak. That’s the moment.”  

Javiera shrieked through her laughter. “Your fiancé just made one of the greatest actors alive break on live TV. Babe, you won.”  

Tears streamed down your face as you tried to pull yourself together, but Pedro kept going, doubling down on his character’s antics, sending the entire studio into absolute hysterics. The audience was howling, and you? You were on the verge of falling out of your damn seat.  

To say you were proud of Pedro was the understatement of the century.  

He was killing it.  

And when the skit finally ended, the camera catching Pedro barely holding it together as Woody clapped him on the back and Meryl wiped away her tears of laughter, you saw it—that look he gave, that quick flicker of his eyes searching the audience, finding you.  

And when he did?  

He grinned.  

That big, beautiful, unbelievably smug grin.  

And you knew.  

You were so in trouble tonight.

STUDIO 8H – LATER THAT NIGHT

After his skit, he’d barely disappeared backstage before returning to you, his face still slightly flushed from all the laughter and adrenaline. And just when you thought he couldn’t get any more irresistible, there he was—dressed in a plain white henley, the soft fabric stretching just right across his chest, his sleeves pushed up enough to show off those strong forearms.  

And those glasses.  

The square-framed ones that made him look ridiculously handsome, the ones that had your brain short-circuiting every time he wore them.  

Oh, you were so done for.  

Pedro slid back into his seat between you and Javiera, flashing you a small, knowing smile. His hand automatically found your thigh, squeezing lightly—just a touch, nothing inappropriate, but enough to send heat flooding through your body. You swore the bastard knew exactly what he was doing.  

So you did what you knew would drive him crazy.  

You turned to him, grabbed his face, and kissed him dizzy.  

Pedro inhaled sharply through his nose, but he barely hesitated, responding immediately—his hand sliding up to your waist, fingers pressing in just enough to claim you, as if he wanted to pull you into his lap right then and there. His lips were warm, soft, and eager as they moved against yours, deepening the kiss just slightly. His thumb brushed over your ribs, and you felt the way his breath hitched, like he was fighting the urge to take things further.  

Your fingers curled in the fabric of his henley as he kissed you like he needed you—slow, lingering, with an almost teasing edge.  

Javiera groaned beside you. “Alright, you two, I am still here.”  

You pulled away with a breathless laugh, Pedro’s lips still chasing yours even as you separated. His forehead rested against yours for a lingering second, and when he finally pulled back, he gave you that devastatingly soft look—the one that made your heart flip inside your chest.  

“You keep kissing me like that, mi amor,” he murmured, his voice low and full of promise, “and I’m not gonna make it to the after-party.”  

You smirked, letting your fingers trace along his jawline. “Who said we’re going to the after-party?”  

Pedro’s eyes darkened ever so slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was holding back a smirk. He gave your thigh another squeeze, this time lingering a little longer.  

But before he could say anything—  

Paul fucking McCartney took the stage.  

The first notes of Golden Slumbers filled the room, the familiar melody wrapping around you like something magic.  

Pedro’s entire body shifted as if on instinct. His fingers laced through yours, squeezing tight, before pulling you up with him.  

“You’re dancing with me,” he murmured, voice low and full of emotion, his breath brushing against your ear as he wrapped an arm around your waist.  

“You act like I’d ever say no.”  

Pedro chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as he held you close. His other hand settled at the small of your back, guiding you effortlessly as he swayed you in slow, easy circles.  

His touch was everywhere—warm, solid, grounding. You let yourself melt against him, your cheek resting against his chest as the music carried you both away.  

“Once there was a way… to get back homeward…”  

Pedro hummed softly against your temple, his voice low, affectionate. You felt the way his arms tightened around you, the way his fingers traced lazy circles against your spine.  

“You have no idea how much I love you,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion.  

Your throat tightened. “I think I do.”  

His lips brushed your forehead. “You’re everything to me.”  

You closed your eyes, letting the moment sink in, letting his words settle in your heart like something precious.  

As Carry That Weight began, the crowd’s energy shifted—cheers, laughter, voices singing along. Pedro lifted your hand, spinning you gently before pulling you right back into his arms.  

You laughed, breathless, the warmth in his eyes making you weak. “You’re gonna make me cry.”  

Pedro’s hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones with so much tenderness. “I love you,” he whispered. “More than I know how to say.”  

And that was it.  

You surged forward, pressing your lips to his, letting the kiss speak for you. It was soft, full of love and something deeper—something that felt like forever. Pedro kissed you back just as sweetly, his fingers threading into your hair, holding you close as if he never wanted to let go.  

As The End played, the final notes echoing through the studio, you held onto Pedro like he was your whole world.  

Because he was.

[thanyatargaryen]

Make it Official

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by PedroPascalsGermangirl💜 (@pedrosgermangirl)

(video taken from IG @pedrosgermangirl) I was thinking about doing something like this after i saw that video. please show them some love if you can by liking their edit.

Pedro x F!reader

No Warnings all fluff

Summary: You have been in a relationship with Pedro for a good year since you guys met at SDCC in 2024. Now you guys got invited to a halloween party and want to make it official so you get to thinking when you see an edit on IG of Pedro as Oberyn Martell and that mustard robe he loved.

Pedro was laying in his couch when you open the door to your apartment carrying a big envelope with his name and one with yours. "Pedrito... baby... i think we got some hefty mail" you say lifting the big envelopes on each hand. "Hefty? wait a second." He leaves his book on the side table and stands up getting the envelops and opening one. The hefty letter was a quite elaborated invitation to Heidi Klum's Halloween party.

"Is what i think it is?" you ask and lean into your letter looking at the end of the letter seeing the initials HK. In your life would you have thought you were going to get invited to that party ever. You turn around and see Pedro looking at you and then the letter "Well princess, i think is time to make it official if we are going to the party." he smiled and kissed your temple while going to the kitchen. You were still frozen in place while your mind went 100miles per hour.

"We need to think what are we going to be for the party, we have a good month or so. I think it will be good to have some pictures taken just in case, what do you think?" At this point you had your phone on your hand and sitting at the kitchen bar. "I was thinking about something like Disney like Aladdin or Beauty and the Beast... or something more like animals?" you started babbling as he smiled and held your hand while you were swiping through instagram and found a reel with Pedro as Oberyn Martell. "We can go as whatever you want just no animals that wold creep me out a bit." he said as you see the reel and show it to him.

"What about if we bring back Oberyn Martell and Ellaria Sand? it will be good to have pictures in it and then we can make it official by posting them on each others instagram accounts. I think it would be cute." you say looking at him and then biting your lips thinking on how good an older version of Oberyn would be. "It could be a good idea... i can ask Coco if she knows where we can get something similar to that robe or maybe help us with the color scheme for that day." Pedro as as excited as you were while kissing your head and massaging your shoulders.

"I think it will be a great idea and i can get a friend of mine to d the pictures a few hours earlier that day and we can post them on our way to the party." It was going to be a fun day. Days passed while Pedro spoke with Coco and she managed to send a color palette for the costumes from a friend who is helping with that since it would take at least two months to get the mustard robe done. you both decided for a classic burnt orange with gold and dark green palette for the costumes and Coco's friend started her magic.

You called your friend who you had met since you started doing content for youtube. he was coming back from Japan and having a 2 day trip in NYC which made it easier for him and his girlfriend to do the pictures a few days early. When you told Pedro about it he was finishing talking with Coco. "Before i forget, Coco said that the costumes are almost done and that we need to go into her studio to check final details." you hug him and kiss his cheek "When? By the way, my friend will be here for a few days so if the costumes are done early we can get the pictures early too." you smile and look up at him "Sounds good, i think that we can ask Coco about that and see maybe we can get them the weekend before the party."

Pedro was so sweet with you and you felt so in love every day. The day you were going to meet with Coco you got into the cab and luckily no one saw you together. you were holding hands and swiping through your phones until you arrived. Coco was waiting for you at the basement of the building to take you straight to her office where the costumes were waiting. "Coco thank you so much for your help. Im not sure how to repay this big favor!" you said while holding Pedro's hand and entering the studio where her friend had two mannequins with your costumes. yours was a long flowy and silky dress with half burnt orange and half dark green tied by multiple gold chains around the body with two big slits on the sides of your legs. while Pedro'd was a long burnt orange robe with a dark green undershirt and gold belt along with brown pants and boots while you had gold gladiator sandals. You were speechless while looking at the work of art as both women finished setting up your costume which had a chain wig like Ellaria had at the purple wedding the only difference was that yours had multiple orange, gold and green stones in it.

"You ladies did a wonderful job in such a little time. You would look gorgeous in that dress." Pedro was looking at you and then the dress. "Well love birds, get yourself dressed and we can see if we need to do some work on them before you can take them." Coco's friend Emily was hurrying you guys up and when you came out from the makeshift changing room she started lookin gat you while smiling. "Well i'm so good at my job that i don't see anything that needs fixing... and you guys? do you feel like you need something changed?" Emily was looking at you while Pedro could not stop looking at you with his mouth open.

"I see nothing to be changed specially not in hers... she looks gorgeous." Pedro reached out to grab and kiss your hand while you blushed. "Well you look handsome yourself my prince." you said jokingly while Coco and Emily were giggling looking at you both. "Good to know i made a good job. You can take them home and use it when you have your party. Im happy to have been able to help you." Emily was picking up her things as you were putting everything in a box for each costume. Pedro was ordering a cab and you were texting your friend to let him know about the pictures.

the craze of Heidi's party was growing since it was T-1 day for the party. you were trying on different makeup while Pedro sneaked up on you with a desert rose on his hand in a small pot. "A rose to another rose." he whispered into your ear while kissing your neck. "Thank you... I appreciate it is gorgeous." "but not as much as you are." Your friend had been in NYC for a day and you were finishing up the makeup for the next day to get the pictures done and then attend the party. Out off the corner of your eye you see Pedro getting something from his drawer and then leave the room.

DAY OF THE PARTY.

Your friend had been at your apartment setting up his cameras along with his girlfriend who was helping you with your hair. Pedro was talking with your friend while you stood at the backdrop waiting for him. At this point Pedro was talking with your friend asking for help to do something unimaginable. Your friend knew and told his girlfriend about what was going to happen and to help entertain you at the end of the shoot. you had such wonderful chemistry wit the camera and the indicators your friend gave you were to the point. It had been a few hours and almost time for you to leave when she reaches up to fix your hair and the chain when your friend starts taking pictures and has a camera recording towards you while your friend's girlfriend points back at you and Pedro is behind you.

"i know this is a weird way to do it but i knew you were the love of my life the moment i saw you in that interview. I saw the woman i wanted to spend my life with and..." he says as he took your left hand and kneeled with a blue box on his hand where a wonderful engagement ring was placed, a big emerald sitting on a gold band. "I know it might seem fast but i wont let you go... i've waited for you all my life... mi amor quiero pasar los años que me quedan contigo." this point you were trying not to cry while looking at your friend and then his girlfriend to go back and see Pedro with a few tears himself coming down his cheeks. "My lady would you make me the most lucky man in this world and marry me?" You could only nod and kneel with him as he placed the ring on your finger kissing your knuckles, your wrist, the palm of your hand and then your lips. As you kissed tears of happiness came down your face and you were hugging him hard into your chest as your friend started sending pictures into your guy's phones.

"I love you Pedro." you whisper into his neck and kiss him while he helps you stand up. you turn around and see your friend "You knew..." you point at him and he nods along with his girlfriend "we played along really well" she said and started checking the pictures sent to each one of you.

On your way to the party you were looking at the pictures and looking at which ones you were going to put on instagram when you get a notification of Pedro's where it shows your hand and him kissing your hand.

"She said yes"

The picture made you smile and followed by that you upload one where you are kissing both on your knees with the ring showing on your hand,

"I said yes... I would say a thousand times yes!"

At this point you had arrived to the party with a bunch of notifications on your phone and paparazzi shooting at you and how Pedro had placed his hand on the small of your back guiding you as you got pictures taken. At one section you stopped like all others were doing, Pedro pulled you to him with your hand on his chest showing the ring, your hands locked on his chest and kissing each other. A few hours later during the party you saw multiple headers on social media saying

"Pedro Pascal shows up at Heidi Klum's Halloween party with his fiancé Y/N Y/L content creator and interviewer." all this showing the two pictures on each other's social media plus the one on the welcome red carpet.

You smile and reach for Pedro's hand while showing your phone. "I'm the most happy" He reaches and kisses your hand and then your ring "Not more than i am my love." you were high with love and hoping what it was to come, hopefully, many years of happiness and adventures.

mi amor quiero pasar los años que me quedan contigo: my love i want to spend whatever years i have left with you.

I'll be updating "Mutual Agreement" in a few hours remember rebloging and comments are appreciated and welcomed!

[castielscaplan]

Joel Miller Fics

Updated April 17 2025

Main Masterlist

Requesting Rules

Buy Me a Coffee

Loving Another || Summary: Joel confesses his affairs to you

Puppies at Hand || Summary: After coming home from a weeklong work trip, you come home to discover your husband in a pile of puppies galore.

[plussizeappreciationfics]

One shot: Falling in love

Requested ? : yes by @queenoftheworldisdead

Request: Can you do Pedro pascal and plus reader? Maybe he falls for a costume designer on the set of one of his films?

Warning(s): nope

A/N: I changed it to the makeup artist if you don't mind! @queenoftheworldisdead

Image(s) found on Google/Pintersest

"He should be here any minute", Sarah, your assistant spoke as she watched you let out a long yawn before continuing to put the brushes, blushes, small bowl of fake blood and hair clips onto the table.

"He better, or else he won't need my makeup at all, I could beat his face with my bare hands" you joked while putting up your fists and pretending to punch an imaginary person. Your assistant chuckled and made a mental note to ask Pedro's assistant if they could make a tiktok video with that concept.

Before she could voice her thoughts, the door to the trailer opened and a loud "Buenas dias!" erupted through the small room, Pedro entering the trailer and quickly closing the door behind him and greeting the two of you with hugs and kisses on the cheeks.

At your turn, you couldn't help but inhale the fresh scent of his body wash and perfume. That man always smelled like he was blessed by the Gods themselves. The Chilean actor grinned at you before whispering another "Good morning, beautiful" to you, making sure that Sarah wouldn't hear his special greeting for you.

"Good morning, you're five minutes late. My time is money, Pascal" you playfully scolded while patting his back, making him give you a quick kiss on the cheeks. "I am sorry, I will be on time tomorrow", he promised and finally released you from the tight hug, not that you wanted it but it was time to get to work.

"Okay, today you're shooting a lot of fight scenes, so your face is gonna look pretty beaten and bloody", you informed to which Pedro sighed and nodded his head, knowing that today would be a physical exhausting day. Nonetheless, he loved his job and loved that he got to spend the following hour in peace and with you.

"Okay, I'll see if Denzel is ready, if he is then I'll start his makeup too" Sarah informed you. You hummed in response while focusing your eyes on the makeup you had set up, ready to be used. She nodded her head at your vocal response and quickly left the trailer, knowing that you and Pedro needed all the concentration in the world.

Once Sarah had closed the door behind her, Pedro sat down in his designated chair and removed his glasses, placing them on the table and letting out a tired sigh before focusing his gaze on you. You were standing next to him, leaning over to open the SFX makeup jar while thinking about how long and deep the first fake scar would need to look like.

"I'm really Sorry, mi amor. I overslept" Pedro's gentle voice pulled you out of your rhythm, to which you chuckled and faced him while silently admiring his beautiful face. His eyes stared deeply into your and he had this genuine look of regret on his face, his brown eyes begging you for forgiveness.

"You have nothing to worry about Pedro, I was half joking" you chuckled and patted him on his shoulder, not realizing that goosebumps had made their way across his skin at your touch, his stomach churned in delight nervousness while his heart fluttered in his chest. That man was long gone for you.

"When are we going to address this" Pedro responded, his question making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion and surprise, your heart skipping a beat as you felt like you had been caught doing something you weren't supposed to do.

"Address what?" you asked and let out a nervous chuckle, the actor's piercing and loving gaze keeping you on your toes. The tension shifted in the trailer and a part of you knew that you needed to start doing your job or else the director would get annoyed at the delay.

"How we both are hopelessly in love with one another. How I can feel your increased heartbeat whenever I hug you, how you're the first and last thing on my mind. How I know that you're not gonna allow yourself to voice your deepest thoughts about your feelings towards me because you know that falling in love with an actor is not the most convenient thing on this planet".

Pedro gave you a wide smile, his eyes sparkling while you sat there awestruck. He had read you like an open book and you felt somehow exposed but at the same time relieved because he had indeed voiced your deepest thoughts.

A shaky sigh left your lips as you broke the intense eye contact for a few seconds, needing to gather your thoughts.

"Pedro..." you sighed and looked back at him again, seeing how he leaned forwards and gently placed his hands on your thick waist, pulling you closed to him so that now you were standing in front of him.

He gently wrapped his strong arms around your waist and placed his chin on your big stomach, smiling up at you and looking so damn adorable and handsome that it made your heart skip a beat while a delicate shiver ran its way down your spine.

"I know what you're thinking. I am asking you for one date, an afternoon or evening where it's just the two of us and nobody else. No work, no coworkers just us. If you decide to not pursue your feelings and keep things professional, I will do the same", Pedro's suggestion sounded heavenly.

"Okay, one date. And then a few days time to gather my thoughts and then I'll let you know my decision" you repeated with a quick head nod, loosing the inner battle of not touching the actor and gently letting your soft hand brush through his still damp curls. The motion made the actor let out a soft sigh, already loving your touch and yearning for only more.

"Thank you. I will set everything up, all I need from you is to show up".

"Don't tell me that, I will show up in sweats and a baggy shirt" you chuckled and shook your head.

Pedro surprised you by quickly standing up, still holding you in close while a wide grin took over his face.

"I don't give a fuck how you'll dress up, I'm already blessed to know that I'll spend a few hours with you", his romantic confession made you bite back a shit-eating grin as you felt your knees weaken.

"We gotta get back to work now, or both of our asses will be served on a silver platter" you spoke and let out a sigh, wishing that this moment would never stop. You had finally gotten the confession you had been secretly been hoping and wishing for. A deep sense of peace and glee settled in your soul as you couldn't wait for the special date.

"Then let's get back to work, but not before this-" Pedro surprised you by leaning forward and stealing a soft, gentle kiss from your lips. The delicateness of his motion making your head spin while your lips tingled with glee. You gasped at the sensations and pushed the actor back in his seat, making him let out a chuckle while you shook your head and finally got to work on his face.

[ieatpussyfromtheback]

⸻

Just Us Pedro Pascal x femreader

The afterparty was loud. Lights flashed, champagne flowed, and half the room had already posted stories with Pedro’s name tagged at least three times. You leaned against the balcony railing, escaping the chaos for a moment, heels kicked off and hair loosened.

Inside, you could hear Pedro laughing—his warm, unmistakable voice rising above the din.

You didn’t mind the fame. Not really. But sometimes, it felt like loving him meant loving a man who belonged to the world.

And then the sliding glass door opened.

“There you are,” he said softly, stepping out with two flutes of champagne, handing one to you.

“Thought you were busy being everyone’s favorite person,” you teased.

He gave a tired smile, moving beside you and leaning his shoulder against yours. “They’ll survive for ten minutes.”

The city lights sparkled below, and for a while, neither of you spoke. It was enough to be there.

Then Pedro glanced at you sideways, eyes soft. “I know it gets weird, sometimes. All this.”

You nodded. “Sometimes. But you’re still just you. The guy who makes terrible dad jokes and talks to the dog like she’s a person.”

He laughed. “She is a person. She’s smarter than me.”

You clinked your glass against his. “Low bar.”

He gave you that boyish grin that made your chest ache.

“I love you, you know,” he said, voice low now, private. “Whether it’s this life, or a quieter one where I make coffee and read scripts no one sees—I’d still find you.”

And in that moment, it didn’t matter how many cameras flashed. This was yours.

Just the two of you.

⸻