#pedro x you

[mrsmandalorian]

nonsense

-- pedro x singer!f!reader one shot

summary: a surprise visitor at your first-ever coachella performance!

second part: espresso/main masterlist /word count: 4.5k

warnings: 18+ mdni, reader is able-bodied, smut!!!, and fluff!, drinking, drug use (edibles and smoking), switch sex, p in v, fingering, sexual teasing, pet names (mi amor, princesa, daddy, baby, baby girl, puppy, angel)

a/n: howdy everyone! was inspired by Sabrina Carpenter's Coachella performance to write this. let me know if you guys want a second story to Espresso lol. much love to everyone!! -maddie

Coachella was one of the most famous music festivals a musician could play at. It was such an honor to be on the setlist. It is incredible to perform a night each weekend in a row. This might be the most significant break in your career. Something felt missing.

The crowd started to get excited as the set time grew nearer. The nerves shot through you as you took deep breaths. You were trying to get over the feelings going through your mind.

“Are you alright?” one of the backup dancers asks as they help you with the earpiece. As you look yourself over in the mirror, you see the beautiful outfit that was personalized to fit you wonderfully, with your hair done beautifully. 

You were ready. 

“Yes, I am ready!” You smiled at your team as you took hold of your microphone. The band starts playing one of your most famous songs. The lights went dark as the band played the first cords of the song. The crowd roared in anticipation. You slowly stepped out into the darkness and started the melody. 

The lights pour onto the stage, and the crowd goes wild. They get the first glance at you with your sexy and luxurious outfit.  You smirk to yourself at the attention as you scan through the crowd. All the exciting and loyal fans in the crowd as they sing every verse with you. You follow the dance choreography you have practiced and performed many times. Once the music was going, it was hard not to get stuck into it and forget about the hundreds of people in front of you. The crowd was going wild as they sang along to your new song. 

You continued the song as you had images of the reason for it, smirking to yourself. Pedro makes you feel like you're on cloud nine, from how he treats you publicly to the bedroom activities. A few songs highlighted the bedroom activities. You had never written such “edgy, sexy” songs before you met him. The secret love affair had made all of you so happy. He still made you content and secured in your relationship even miles and hours away from him. 

As you go through the song and move around more, you look into the VIP areas and see many familiar faces. You don’t pay much attention as you have to end the song. You were so busy entertaining your fans that you did not notice who had slipped into the VIP section alongside both of your mutual friends. You were so focused on the choreography and in your element. The show was a big deal and a performance with dances and graphics for all the songs on the giant screens. You were singing your last song of the night, which was Nonsense. It was one of your favorite songs to perform, as it gave the audience the mood for the evening. The song represented something personal to you: your secret relationship with your new lover, Pedro Pascal, the whole internet’s boyfriend. It was interesting to see social media go crazy over who the song might be for. Some had the correct answers, but it was still a new and private relationship. 

The lights fall as the melody starts. “I think that you guys will enjoy this next song! I have seen all the tiktoks, by the way.” You joke into the darkness and receive a wild response from the crowd. You take a few breaths and get into position in a very sexy pose, along with the dancers, waving at the sweet fans who can see you. 

“No (La-la, la-la) da-ah-ah, ah (Ah-ah, uh, uh, uh, yeah)”

As the song begins, the spotlight shines only on you. You scan over the crowd with a smirk. It was one of the sexy, edgy songs you wrote because of your lover. There are butterflies in your stomach from nerves to play something as personal as this song, especially for such a big and reactive crowd. 

“Think I only want one number on my phone I might change your contact to "Don't leave me alone." You said you like my eyes, and you like to make them roll Treat me like a queen; now you got me feelin' thrown, oh.”

You continued the song as you had images of the reason for it, smirking to yourself. Pedro makes you feel like you're on cloud nine, from how he treats you publicly to the bedroom activities. A few songs highlighted the bedroom activities. You had never written such “edgy, sexy” songs before you met him. The secret love affair had made all of you so happy. He still made you content and secured in your relationship even miles and hours away from him. 

The stage lights illuminate the whole stage as you walk around and sway your hips to the music. During the lyrics, you stop and try to sing with your fans as you make your way to the side of your VIP area to see those familiar faces. 

“But I can't help myself When you get close to me Baby, my tongue goes numb Sounds like blah, blah, blee”

As you sing towards the area, your eyes linger over your friend group of non-famous friends to Sarah Paulson, which causes you to smile at them. You continue to scan the section until they land on HIM. The person that this song was written about. He was being his goofy and adorable self as he sang along with you. This causes you to mess up with a blush but quickly recover as the next verse comes. 

“I don't want no one else (don't want) Baby, I'm in too deep Here's a lil' song I wrote (a song I wrote) It's about you and me (me)”

The eye contact that he held with you as you sang your filthy thoughts of him directly to him with a huge smirk. You continued to perform as you moved your hips a little more to the choreography because of him. In the following verses, you look away as you sing to your fans.

“I'll be honest Lookin' at you got me thinkin' nonsense Cartwheels in my stomach when you walk in And when you got your arms around me Ooh, it feels so good. I had to jump the octave I think I got an ex but I forgot him And I can't find my chill, I must have lost it I don't even know I'm talkin' nonsense I'm talkin', I'm talkin' (ah)”

You twirl your hair and sway your hips back to his side of the stage as your dancers follow close behind you. Make eye contact with him to ensure he is focused on you now. 

“I'm talkin' all around clock I'm talkin' hope nobody knocks I'm talkin' opposite of soft I'm talkin' wild, wild thoughts You gotta keep up with me I got some young energy I caught the L-O-V-E How do you do this to me?”

You follow the choreography correctly as you hold flirty eye contact with him. Once you go over the chorus again and start to finish the song, you stand in your final position in the middle of the stage. You send him a wink and blow a kiss, then turn your attention to your fans. 

“You guys have been absolutely the best! I hope you all enjoyed it and hope to see you again next weekend! I love you, and please stay safe!” You say after you show appreciation to your band and dancers. You wave and bow as the crowd goes wild and chant your name as the lights go down. 

As you run backstage with your crew, laughing and smiling, you give all of them well-deserved love and appreciation. Your manager is there with water and a hug.” You did amazing! They loved you!” they say as you drink your water and wipe the sweat. Now celebrate! Not too hard!”

You follow their instructions as you see your friends run up as you exit the backstage towards your tent. They all sang praises and love and hugged you. After a while, you finally met the handsome brown eyes again, but closer this time. You jog up to him in your tight-fitting outfit with a big smile as the two collide in a hug, throwing your arms around his neck. He was wearing a button-up shirt with the first set of buttons undone, dark jeans, and his oversized glasses and baseball cap. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You say with a smile as you look up to him. He smirked as he got ready to say something witty back to you. You interrupt it with a short but passionate kiss on his lips. “I’m happy you’re here! How long have you been here?” Your hands land on his exposed chest, which makes him pull you closer. 

He chuckles at you as he sees the adrenaline still pumping through you as you chatter to him. “I just decided to come to see my favorite person perform at Coachella. My schedule can wait two days. I’ve been here the whole time. You were great, beautiful.” He keeps his voice so no one else can hear your conversation. You feel his hands slide down your hips a little bit. “Also, where did you get this little number, and why haven’t I ever seen it?” Letting his thick fingers run over the design against your lower sides. 

The compliments give you a confidence boost on top of your adrenaline rush. You bite your lip as his hands wander slightly until they settle on your lower back. “I planned on changing before we celebrate, but if you like it, I can keep it on.” You whisper into his ear, then look back at his expression. 

His eyes darkened from your comment, causing him to pull you a little closer. “I like that idea,” He whispers in your ear as his lips graze your neck with a few pecks. Before you both could continue, your friends gathered you into other event areas. The group stayed together as they went to different stages to watch other artists, including Doja Cat and Lana Del Rey. 

Pedro and you both socialized and drank with all your friends as you celebrated your incredible performance. There were edibles taken sometime in all the fun. He would occasionally hold onto you as you both danced closely. You both let loose, and as you can see, everyone was far from wasted. You were letting your bodies get as close as possible, hips grinding onto his. His hands would run down your sides and tease you. Stealing kisses from each other, and the sexual tension was through the roof. 

The feeling of being watched makes you look around every once in a while. The camera flashes and excited screams from people around you made you realize that your relationship might not be that much of a secret now. Pedro and you interacted with lovely, chill fans who casually recognized you. You had some groups that would call over to Pedro as “daddy” as he played it off like a champ.

“Vamos, mi amor,” Pedro whispers in your ear as he grips his gentle hands around your waist. You meet his erotic brown eyes that make your cheeks burn hard as you squeeze your thighs together. Pedro was very facially expressive because you could read his thoughts whenever you looked into him. His thoughts were highly naughty, and it was time to go home.  “I wondered how you felt about calling it for a night and heading back to your room for a nice bath.” 

You look around at everyone in the crew and see your friends slowing their nights down, which doesn’t make you worried about causing another upset. Meeting the brown eyes again, you give him an arguing grin as you throw back your head with a laugh. 

“I thought you might like that idea, Hermosa. Let’s tell them all good night and get going,” he whispers again in your ear as he gently pulls you towards your group of friends. Both of you take the time to say goodbye to your friends and thank them for supporting you. Pedro’s loud laugh pulls you away from your friends as you meet his warm eyes. He hugs everyone and draws you into his hip with an arm around your waist. “Goodnight, everyone. Safe travels!” 

There were plenty of farewells, naughty things, and cat calls as you leaned against Pedro, who turned around with a silly face and middle finger gesture. He helps guide you to the Uber you take to your hotel room for the night. As you lay your head in his lap, the car ride was full of stolen kisses and laughter.

“You were an absolute star tonight, mi amor,” Pedro says as he traces his fingers along the straps of his outfit, letting his fingers run down to his cleavage. That last song was very cheeky. I wonder who that could be about.” 

“Thank you. It was about one of my lovers. You might know him,” You joke with him, trying not to moan. His wandering fingers turn into wandering palms as they slowly paw at your breast. 

“Oh, you are playing hard to get whenever I already have you smitten,” he mumbles, only where you could hear him. The car comes to a stop as you arrive at your hotel. You quickly get out of the vehicle as Pedro follows closely behind you. You couldn’t keep your hands off one another as you walked through the empty hotel halls. Acting as strangers whenever you encounter a person, you giggle with each other once you come back together. 

Once you find your room, Pedro checks to see if the hallway is clear. He uses a little force with his grip as he leans you against your shut door. Letting his hands explore before they landed on your bottom, kneading your ass. One of his hands comes up to cup your jaw as he lines his lips up with yours, passionately kissing yours. His body closes into yours as you let him control the situation as you follow his lead. After grinding bodies and long, passionate kisses, you pull away, trying to catch your breath as you stare up at him with your cheeks burning. “We should get inside,” you say as you turn around the door, fumbling with the door. Pedro stepped back a little and watched as you struggled a bit. 

“Why are you so frizzled, mi amor?” He whispers against your neck and presses the front of his body to your back. Feeling his stiff member against your backside along with his hot breath, almost making you moan out at contact. “Let me help you.” He helps you inside as you giggle and follow him. 

Pedro and you have been messing around for a while now. You have not discussed a relationship status or anything, but neither of you hooked up with others. He treats you like a significant other the way he respects your boundaries and doesn’t hide his affection towards you. 

“Let’s go put that beautiful bathtub you sent me a picture of yesterday to good use,” he teases you as he takes off his baseball cap, which makes his hair go all over the place. He starts unbuttoning more of his shirt as his chest becomes bare. You can’t resist running your hands down his chest as he looks at you with a smirk. 

He spanks your ass hard with a groan because of your hands on him. “Let’s go, sweetheart,” he says as he pats your ass to get you to start moving. Once in the bathroom, turn on the large white tub to create a perfect mix of hot and cold. He grips your hips as he runs his hands to the back of your outfit. “Whoever designed this little piece is a fucking genius. It is beautiful and flatters you greatly.” 

“Well, thank you, Pedro. I might have had you in mind when I got it designed. I was going to send you some pictures tonight whenever I came back here,” you smirked and winked at him in the mirror as he helped you undo the outfit. He kissed down your body as the fabric went off, making chills run across your body. The time apart doesn’t affect you emotionally, but how your body reacts tells the absolute truth. The way your heart rate skyrockets as his lips make their way to your mound. 

You leaned against the counter for support as your outfit fell onto the floor, leaving you only in underwear. You make eye contact with Pedro as he continues to kiss and lick down your lower half. He hooks his large fingers under the top band of your panties as he meets your eyes for approval. You give him a slight nod and grin as his feather-like kisses follow the material as he pulls them down your legs. Throwing your head back as you try not to make a noise as he runs his tongue just above your clit. You make a frustrated groan as his tongue suddenly leaves your skin, leaving goosebumps. 

Pedro chuckles softly as he sees how your body reacts to him, pulling away with a smirk on his lips. He stands up as he pushes his body against yours, pulling your hips into his. “You are such a good girl for me. Your body is always ready for me,” he whispers as he ducks his head to kiss your neck. “Let’s go in, mi amor.”  He gets in first so you can sit in between his thick thighs. He helps you as you slide in between his legs, back against his chest. His rigid member pressed against your lower back, his hands tease your nipples after you get settled. He couldn’t help but let his hands wander as he settled comfortably behind you. He rubs out your sore body but lets his hands focus on your most sensitive spots.

His gentle but firm hands run on either side of your hips as his kisses lay on your shoulders. He inhaled deeply against your skin, causing you to tense up your back as it chills down your spine. He moves his hands from your hips towards your mound. You used one hand to spread your left leg apart, holding it still with just one large hand. His right hand found its way down to tease your slit, playing with your sweet lips. You felt the member on your back begin to throb as he slightly rubbed himself against you. You let out your needy moans and sounds continuous as he worked his fingers against you. 

He kept teasing you and kissing your shoulder and neck with his scruffy face. You had enough of his teasing and rigid member. It was rare that you switched roles, but you were both switches. (You can’t tell me that Pedro is not a switch.)  You slide out of his grip as you meet his eyes once you are turned around to face him. 

You grasp onto his rigid member, holding yourself up on the sides of the tub. He squirms and lets out a moan as you hold yourself over him. “I’m tired of the teasing, Pascal. It’s my turn,” you say as you ease your entrance slowly onto his throbbing tip. You find a comfortable position for your legs as you keep going up and down on his tip. He lets out a loud ‘fuck’ and moans as he squeezes his eyes close. His hands move to your hips, letting you take control. You start to ride him as you push your breast into his face. 

One of his hands moved from your hips to grip your tit, “who gave you permission to touch me?” You whisper almost into his ear as he looks up at you with big brown eyes. 

“Sorry, miss,” he whimpers back as your speed of volatile movements onto his cock increases. He leans back and rests his arms on the back of the tub as he lets you ride the hell out of him. He bites his lip and squeezes his eyes as he groans out in pleasure. “Fuck, mi amor.” 

“You like this, don’t you?” You firmly ask him as you force his face into the middle of your tits. He starts to motorboat your breast as you suffocate him gently. The scruff from his face makes you more sensitive than you thought, riding his member harder. “You start fucking me hard, baby. Thrust your big cock into me.”

He meets your eyes with pleasing brown eyes to satisfy your needs. His pleas make you smirk as you nod. Pedro begins to slam his hips into you, moaning as he does. “Thank you, thank you for letting me fuck you.” He pants as he thrusts deep inside of you, feeling his throbbing member hitting every spot. 

He grips your body, and his thrust begins to become more rapid as you continue to ride his giant member. Every thrust has the purpose of pleasing you; his hand works its way back up to your breast. He plays aggressively with your nipple, pinching and sucking on it. His other hand gripped onto your ass as his rhythm stayed deep and hard. The overstimulation of his hands and the member inside of you causes you to scream out in pleasure, “Good puppy.” You whimper as you feel your orgasm coming sooner as he leans up and thrusts into you. Pedro chose the pet name on one of the first nights you had taken control of the action.

Eventually, with his rapid thrust and wandering hands,  your body starts to shake as you are overcome with pleasure. “Keep going, puppy,” you whimper as he continues to work out your orgasm. “Such a good puppy.” You whisper as you run your hands over his chest. Your body falls into his as you overcome your orgasm, gripping onto his as he continues to pleasure you. He pulls out and fingers your wet pussy, licking his fingers after you finish.  

You both lay in the tub for a while as you overcome your orgasm. He held you as you came down from your high, kissing your head. “Was that good for you, mi amor?” He asks gently as he pulls you into his chest. He moved the hair from your face, rubbing his hands down your waist. 

You gently nod against him as the day catches up with you. After a few minutes, you get tired of the cramped space of the tub. “Let’s get out, baby,” you mumble to him as you lean up, earning a grunt in return. The guilt of not pleasuring Pedro silently overcame you as you exited the bathtub. 

The sound of a low grunt makes you return to the tub as the broad man emerges. You smile mischievously at him as he glances up to meet your grin. His member is still very much erect as he steps in front of you. The fun part of being switch partners was that it could change in a flash. You give Pedro a knowing look as he meets your eyes and stands before you. His eyes and grin light up on his face as he gently guides you onto the counter behind you. “My turn, princesa,” he mumbles and spreads your legs apart as he pushes himself in between them. He pulls your body towards the edge of the counter so your legs wrap around him.

You lean your back against the counter as he holds your lower half, rubbing his throbbing cock against your slick entrance. He leans over your body, sucking on one of your nipples to get a reaction out of you, which it did as you let out a loud moan. Your body reacted as well as it pushed farther onto his member. You both let out a pleasurable sound as his tongue runs down your chest to your stomach. Your hips start to tease him as they grind against him, which causes him to spank the side of your ass.  “No, ma’am, it’s daddy’s turn,” he smirks up at you as he moves one of his hands to your nipple. His fingers quickly fondle your right nipple as you moan loudly. “You let daddy fuck your sweet, sweet pussy?” 

You let out a satisfied groan as his hand moved down your entrance, gently rubbing you as his thumb ran over your sensitive clit. After gently teasing your pussy with his fingers, he lubed himself up with his fingers from your wetness. His large member enters you again as he holds onto your hips. He pushes inside slowly as you both let out moans. 

“You’re so fucking wet, angel. Did ya miss daddy?” He asks as he grips your hips harder, thrusting inside of you. You give a desperate nod as your hands grip onto the edge of the counter. Pedro takes his time as he edges himself in and out of you, giving you all the praises. He pulls up your upper body so your bodies grind against one another, one arm wrapped around your waist and the other holding your back. “Good girl.”

The friction from the position on your mound makes it hard not to moan and squirm in pleasure. His thrust becomes more rigid and repetitive as his grip holds you gently but firmly. You could feel your orgasm approaching as well from the position. “I’m about to cum, Daddy,” you whimpered as you gripped his firm broad shoulders. 

His mouth meets your ear as he groans into your ear. His heavy breathing makes your back arch and push into his thrust more. “Wait for me, baby girl,” he mumbles into your ear as his thrust becomes more sloppy. “Come for me, angel.” He sets you down on the counter as his hands grip your breast, twiddling your nipples with his thick fingers.

Before long, both of you came together with your bodies grinding against one another, along with satisfied noises. 

Pedro’s warm brown eyes meet yours before he kisses you. The two of you might not have a title, but the sparks were there every touch. “Such a good girl, angel,” he says as he gently pulls out of you. “Let’s take a quick shower.” He helps you into the shower, where the two of you help wash one another and joke around with stolen kisses in between. After getting ready, Pedro carries you into bed as the two of you order dessert from room service. The rest of the night was full of laughter and heavy makeout. The two of you cuddle up to some cheesy movie and fall asleep midway through it. 

These were the perfect nights for you to write a whole album about your feelings for this cheeky, handsome man. 

thank you for reading! 🤍

[pascalsbby]

CARNAL / 6: DEVOUR

Chapter 5 / Masterlist

Summary: 4.5k, f!reader, dark!joel, dbf!joel, brattamer!joel

It didn’t even feel like fucking anymore. Yes, it was filthy and harrowing, but it was beckoning more than lust, desire. Love? Fuck. You can’t do this love again. You couldn’t shell out your body and not find the pieces to put yourself back together because they've been taken and devoured by him.

Warnings: 18+ mdni, SMUT, age gap, cum eating, car sex, anal play, dominate & aggressive joel, slight stalker!joel, pet names, praise kink, he talks you through it, tells you what to do- the usual pure filth + WAY MORE. This is filthy. Gotta feed you after being gone for so long.

A/N: This is the penultimate chapter. Maybe. I kinda went feral. Love you <3 Let me know what you think & what’s gonna happen to these two.

"I need your teeth in me, slow and vicious, to tell me my armor is just skin, bones, only bones. Try to be gentle when you rip me apart.”

- Jamaal May

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *₊.• ♡ °:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *

You woke up that morning (the second time), around 10AM on Joel Miller’s couch. He was standing at the counter, back to you. His shoulder blades flexing under his thin shirt. His hair was getting long, kissing the nape of his neck. It was curly at the ends, too. Ruffled, reminiscent of hands being flushed through it. Yours. You wonder now if he’d let it grow or would let it meet its end.

Was this your end?

Turn around Joel.

Please.

You started to open your mouth but he spoke up. “Didn’t want her t’see you in my bed.”

He still hadn’t turned, his voice silently echoing against the tiled back wall of his kitchen. It was soft, still commanding in its baritone. He wasn’t angry anymore… couldn't have been. He had already accepted the invitation and stored it away for later, too. He sat a cup of coffee in front of you and sat across from you at his table. He bent down beside you and whispered, “She hasn’t come out yet. I swear to God f’she heard you fucking screaming last night I—“

Sarah’s bedroom door shook closed. She was walking down the stairs now, fake yawning as if she had only opened her eyes seconds before. She looked tired, as if someone had been keeping her up all night. The chair creaked beneath Joel’s thighs as he settled backwards into it, tearing himself away from your reprimand.

Of course he was mad. Delusional. That’s what this was. Sneaking around your best friends house, fucking her dad? And the thing was, it didn’t even feel like fucking anymore. Yes, it was filthy and harrowing, but it was beckoning more than lust, desire. Love? Fuck. You can’t do this love again. You couldn’t shell out your body and not find the pieces to put yourself back together because they've been taken and devoured by him.

He had made a permanent indentation in his bed with your body, fucking you into it, and then he carried you down the stairs and to the couch like it was nothing, right past her door. Like you hadn’t been dripping on the dark hardwood the entire time he carried you here. Like your muffled screams fell silent to other ears.

Fuck.

He would, too— devour you. And you would sit at his feet and watch as he chewed the love from your ribs. “Thank you, Joel. Thank you. Please, more. Take more of me.”

His snarl when he realized it was you. How angry he was that you were making him do something like this; taking his daughter's best friend and filling her womb with himself, in the most selfish way he could think to tie himself to you. But if that didn’t give, then the raised skin of his initials would do. How dare you open that door and guide him to temptation, as if he wasn’t completely releasing himself into it already? Into you. Onto you.

She hit the bottom step and looked around the living room. “You’re up early.” It was directed at you, but she turned to Joel and spoke in his direction, mirroring him a million times before as her chin tilted slightly down— eyes settling upwards. Big, brown eyes beckoning. And then seconds later her face softens and she gives you both the “I’m not fucking oblivious to this” look.

You laid there and listened to them go about their morning, in his safe space. He smiled real big when he realized she was still happy to see him, of course. Why wouldn’t she be? This has been a man who stood between her and anything that could ever possibly hurt her. He was her shield. And it hurt, still. That he couldn’t really be yours. He was undressing you, instead. Taking off the metal plating and throwing it to the ground. And it was hard to remember that this man was years your senior, your dad’s best friend. He was someone who had been following you for months, paying you to defile your frail body for him. He had hunted you down and sunk his teeth into your skin, bone, marrow. His fingers into your mouth and through the desperation of your thigh.

He scratched his way into your life and you let him, because he feels so good. It was so hard to remember that he was not a good man. Despite his reverence to Sarah’s being. Despite the hole he’s dug through your chest.

Joel Miller was a murderer in his own regard. He hunts you out and down, gets what he wants and then serves you a slow, painful, death. You were sure of it.

Why can’t you be a good man?

Why can’t I have a good man?

You ate breakfast together, the three of you sitting at their two-person table. You were in the middle, one knee touching him and the other, Sarah. He felt of fire, every inch of his denim that touched your naked knees. It rubbed against the rawness of last night, where you were looking up at him, mouth stuffed, praying to him. His cock, as it slid languidly down and up your throat. “Birdie,” he whispered into your hair over and over. Fists full of you. A prayer, a question, a deep rumbling.

Birdie Birdie Birdie.

“Birdie.”

You returned to yourself and realized he was trying to get your attention. It dawned on them that he had just called you the girlish nickname in front of his daughter. It was a moment too late, already it passed his lips and christened the air around him. The melody in his voice changed.

Sarah dropped her fork and it rang through the plate, sending fissures through the porcelain as it echoed the quiet room.

“Who?”

“I’ve called people that before. C’mon. Jus’ like I used to call… fuck what’s her name? Hanna. Just like I used to call Hanna, Ladybug? Remember? Jus’a nickname Sar.”

Excuse me?

“You know exactly why I’m upset. It wasn’t just a nickname for her Dad. You know that.”

“Just a fucking nickname, Jesus.” He was angry that he was being questioned. Outed.

Caught.

It made sense they held secrets for each other. Ones that only swim to the surface during fights. You sat at the two-person table, three people deep. You, sitting outside of your body while the real you is turning your head towards Joel, now. Eyes eating into his own, gnawing on the beauty of them. You try to figure out who the fuck Hanna is. If she’s played this same game before, too. How far did she get? How far was Joel’s cock inside of her? How did he find her?

How old was she?

Sarah was quiet during breakfast. Everyone was. You cleaned the dishes and she rubbed them dry, silently beside you. Joel left as soon as the last bit of ketchup and hashbrowns left his plate. He walked out of the doorway and sat in his chair in front of the TV. He turned the volume out and pretended like he wasn’t leaving his girls to figure it out. He would let you do the hard part.

He always does.

“Sarah, I—“

“Do you know who Ladybug is? He didn’t tell you, did he? He didn’t fucking tell you. I knew it. I knew it,” your name passed out of her chest violently. “He got you too, he got you. I to—He promised me he wouldn’t do it again I-I—“

Suddenly she was too worked up for it to stay between the two of you. Joel’s voice carried from the living room as you hurried after her trying to meet him in the middle. Her fingers already pointing in his direction as he walked towards her with his arms out.

“Joel Miller, you fucking perv—“ calling him by his name.

“Sarah. He hasn’t done anything bad to me. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to but I feel held with him. ‘Member the conversation we had? About how you somehow understood that he and I are similar in a way I haven’t been able to find with anyone else. He— he takes care of me.”

She winced, visibly hit.

“I’ll bet he does.” She spat.

“Hey, s’not like that baby girl.” He was begging.

“Get out of my fucking house, Birdie.” She mocked, completely ignoring anything falling out of your mouth.

So you sat down the dish silently and walked towards the door.

You. You were the first casualty of war. Not even him. Never him. He gazed into you, seeing you. Like he usually did, but never said.

“She was my babysitter and she was his little Ladybug, Birdie,” she spit. You were still in a locked gaze with Joel, body halfway out of their front door.

He turned and looked away.

You walked out of the door.

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *₊.•

It had been two months and 26 days since he carved his initials into your begging flesh. A scrappy ‘JM’ slightly sideways, now slightly raised on your inner thigh. You found yourself tracing it sometimes, wondering if you left any invisible marks on him. Probably not. Your skin is pink and soft, new. It has spent its days tucked away against your heat, hidden from the light. From the man who put them there. Whenever you were sleeping that night, he must have invisibly carved himself into you a thousand more times, because your skin is festering in his absence. His fingertips, name, gripping hands, all falling into the creases of him, left upon you. Long ago bruised and now just scabbed over in refusal to let you return to that night.

That’s what I felt like every single time you texted Sarah, “Can we talk? Please?” or, “I am sorry, please let me explain. Miss you.” She never reads them, infact, they never get to her. She blocked you. And that hurt so much more than just leaving you on read.

Suddenly your skin is ripped open again, by the teeth of your own guilt. Of another lie added to the bracket. But alas, you return home, lock the door, and let him free again in the only way you can— by stripping yourself naked and opening your thighs to the light.

It’s easier to hold a funeral when it's your own. Here lies yet another person who didn't save you— who didn’t stick around to see it through. Whatever it was.

You've been discarded before, it wasn’t a new phenomenon. Rather it was one your chest is familiar with— knows the aching well. Although oftentimes you weren’t even left, just sat to the side, unnoticed and quiet. No one had really done you the favor of actually leaving, never really departing; all still loosely lingering around, almost like they were orbiting you. A distant star in the night sky. Then, like a meteorite, Joel. He became your refuge, a far-off celestial body that crashed into yours. Free from the chaos, cradling you in his arms.

He wasn't just a mosaic of broken mass and matter forcibly reassembled; thrown and kneeled like dough. He embodied the resilience of stardust, a reminder that matter never truly vanishes but transforms into something or someone new. Filtered through fingers above to loosen their ties to who they were before, or what. Joel was something before, to you. Maybe on another plane, he was bending you over his knees right now. His hand kissing your skin— Good morning, Birdie. His touch a gentle caress against your skin, with a warmth that felt like the first rays of dawn. Warmth that would completely devour the incessant nightmares. And the truth of him.

Wake up.

Another nightmare.

They never really ended, the fucked up silver screen tucked tightly against your hippocampus, played on and on. They seethed and sang their screamed pain to the night. Bursting out in missing, of emptiness and holiness (not of the Godly kind).

There was a hole, burrowing itself into your breastplate, spreading and grasping for whatever it can grab hold of, inching ever closer to your heart. You screamed his name like it came directly from him, like he planted it there, kissed it on its forehead goodnight, a silent promise, and then walked out the door and never returned. It was kind of like that— his leaving, the absence of him. So your brain held close whatever it still could and replayed it to you every night. It felt like dying. Like wanting to rip-the-wall-open-and-set-yourself-in-there-too, dying. Plaster over yourself and have some professional match the paint color perfectly, so that it's as if you were never gone from him or his room, dying. His ruined sheets on behalf of your body. Rotting.

Joel told you that he wouldn’t clip your wings, not just yet. What had set off the ‘yet’? He was haunting you, now, the whispers of his voice fading more each day. You thought about that morning so much that you haven’t been present in your own, in weeks.

You haven’t painted in weeks, either. They were sitting against your wall in your childhood room, not even able to face the outside world. Just the canvas beside it. A mirror.

You had been writing more though, filling pages of a journal you didn’t even know you had. The cover was foiled, gold and glistening. Water Serpents l, Gustav Klimt, 1907. You’d always preferred Water Serpents II. Where the fuck did this come from?

Sarah probably left it here in the beginning of summer. She came over daily, helped you unpack. Laughed with you. Held you in that way. Took pictures of you amongst your things.

“You’re like… a big girl now.” She said.

You’d always had a poster of Der Kuss hanging above your bed. It moved with you, from your room to a dorm room, apartment, and back. On her knees for him, engulfed in him. Her feet hanging over the edge, facing some other reality. He held her head in his large hands and kissed her Goodbye. Goodnight. Drift softly into the night.

I imagine he stayed on his knees and watched the flowers shrivel. First, the ones upon her dress and hair, then he picked every single flower in the field they graced and watched them shrink and gasp for life, too. But he stayed.

You remember Dr. Andrews, walking to center stage of the auditorium on a foggy Wednesday morning, four semesters ago. It was 45 minutes into a 3 hour chapter titled: Byzantine Frescoes: Life In Gold. “Each work aids final comprehension of the allegory, which represents the mystical union of spiritual and erotic love and the merging of the individual with the eternal cosmos.” That of Der Kuss. Eternal cosmos.

You felt as if you were meant to be with him. Regardless of the rage you felt towards him. How he had just magically been there at every intersection of your life, thus far. How your parents loved him. Sarah. Meeting her again, or the first time even. All synchronicities pointing to the both of you. Joel and Birdie, sittin’ in a tree.

Whenever you felt control slipping, you would write down the words of someone else. Sometimes it was too hard to find your own in the strung-together way you wanted them. But people have been talking, crying, wailing into the night, since forever ago. You found something that stuck a key into your heart and opened it. This fell out:

“I hated him because I could not remain detached, could not remain standing at the top of the stairs watching him depart. I felt myself going down with him, within him, because his pain and flight were so familiar to me. I descended with him, and lost myself, passed into him, became one with him like his shadow.”

- Anaïs Nin, Winter of Artifice

Your pen gave out, stopping its bleeding before you even reached the end of shadow.

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *₊.•

You had been at home a lot more the past couple of weeks, in a perpetual state of ‘no-call-backs’ from jobs and The Miller’s. You hid from arguing like you’d never left. Like you weren’t nearly 25 years old. You listened to wildfire over and over.

“Been home longer than expected. Looking for a job or just gonna stay here forever?”

“Yeah, Dad. No one is calling back. I’m trying.”

“Not hard enough.” He always says it under his breath, not even looking you in your fucking eyes.

Yeah. Not hard enough.

“How ‘bout you ask Joel if you can work for them as some assistant or something?”

You try not to outwardly scoff. “I’m not talking to Sarah right now. Please don’t invite the Miller’s to anything, just for a while.” You knew exactly what was coming up. But you turned to him and looked in his eyes— something you shied away from him most days, thinking that sudden reveal would get your point across. He spoke before you could, again.

“What’d you do this time?” He looked away.

*₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *₊.•

It didn’t surprise you one bit when Joel fucking Miller, in the biting flesh, walks past you in your own backyard, three months and 28 days later. Eyes tearing into where another man’s hand rested upon the small of your back, rubbing soft circles into your skin. John caught his eye, his fingers releasing from your skin upon Joel’s wandering scowl.

Looks like he wasn’t expecting him either.

John was standing at your side. You decided you’d meet him first, as to not have a reply of the last time you met one of your customers. He actually lived a few houses down, your other too-old-for-you neighbor. How funny. He walked up to you one day when you were getting the mail.

“N’ what’s a pretty thing like you doing out here barefoot? Gonna hurt those soles.”

You decided that you haven’t felt full in a while. You wanted to feel it again, the tickling stretch of someone sliding into you. Even if the entire time you try not to sing the song of another man.

Eh. He fits the bill.

So now his feet (boots) were slowly sinking into the September grass in your parents backyard. He was five beers deep. You, about three or so. Enough. It was the best you could do under the circumstances.

In reality, he came because he thought he might be able to get you alone in the room he’d seen so many times through the computer screen. Smell your sheets, your room, your pussy.

In reality, you just invited him in hopes that Joel would be here. That he would see you around another man and realize the mistake he’s made by not choosing you, too.

You were mid-sentence, explaining what a BFA is to some other neighbor and you felt as if you could hear him growling from across the yard. You would sway yourself just the way you know he liked- especially when your family was involved. Oh, it angered him. That you should be so bold in front of your own father. In front of this man. But he was ignoring you, so why wouldn’t you try and regain his attention?

“Did I leave my wallet in your truck?” John put on his thinking face. “Don’t think so, but here, go look.” He handed you the keys. Coulda came with you at least. You lead yourself back inside and out of the front door. His car is about 4 back. You see Joel’s navy truck a few more back and you catch yourself staring for too long.

As you attempt at unlocking John’s truck, your knees are suddenly pressed onto the footstep, arms spread against the leather seat. And then Joel’s smell is all around. His nose is poking your ear and his gray stubble is poking into your face.

“How fucking dare you? I give you space and this is how you spend it? Stuffing another man’s dirty cock into my cunt?” His back is lowered, attempting to match your height, pointing and spitting about. “If you wanted to be fully stuffed you should have just asked, Birdie. But I get whatever hole I want and he can have whatever’s open. I didn’t know you wanted me to share you, baby.”

You felt full of his voice, even at its melting whisper. You missed bulging full of him.

“I woulda at least ask you not to choose one of my coworkers. Actin’ like a fucking slut.” He whispered the last part, but not quietly enough. “Gonna take care of him later, been wanting to since I saw that you followed hi—“

He was so angry he was giving away his secrets, the way he had still been keeping up with you. You were pulsing.

But… he was looking at you, was paying attention to you. And you hadn’t looked into his soul in so long. You fought against his palm, as it filled the expanse of the back of your head, hair and all. Your cheeks pushed against the seat of John’s truck.

You hear Joel sigh in impatience, then he drops his belt.

He pulls his hands away so he can pull up your dress and he moans as his thumb pushes your thong away from your holes, tickling them. He hooks his thumb in front of you, against the hood of your clit and holds it in place. A constant rush of pressure originating from where his wet finger is pushing. You rut your hips against it and he moans as you breathlessly look up and around at him, eyes widening and eyebrows raising at the feeling of his presence on your body.

“Look into my eyes.”

How could you? How could you possibly focus on the lifting of his lips and his tongue meeting his teeth when his arms were gracing himself, wrestling heavily against his chest, stomach, fully. His cock, long and full. Slightly less straight. A little off. Just like him. Just like you liked it.

He turns you over on your back, lifting you up so that your naked ass meets leather, fully in another man’s truck. He sets you further inside and then looks at you. His cock jumps to meet your gaze and he lets you take it in.

“Been thinking about this.” You try to reach out and touch the veiny girth of it. The heaviness.

“Mm, nuh uh. Not being a very good girl, are you? Told y’ to shut up didn’t I?”

No. And you know he would never. Likes hearing you whimper for him too much.

You scoff and he dips into you in fever, his nose is kissing your clit, unable to get out of the way as his tongue pokes into your slobbering hole. You are every one of his senses. His fingers in your cunt, stretching the soft tissue between your legs. The taste of your warmth on his tongue, pooling. The wetness that got into his nose.

If anyone were to be looking, from most angles it looks like he’s lost something in his floorboard. Until someone moves too closely and sees Joel Miller with his face buried in someone’s daughter's pussy.

He hears something and removes his dripping mustache from your cunt. He then spits on it and lets it talk to him as his veined and heavy cock slips through the cream he’s making of his precum, collecting it with his pretty pink, angry, tip before he slides it back down your slit, covering every inch with himself.

It felt good to sing for him again.

“Oh Birdie, just like that, sounds so good whipping up your pussy’s excitement with my cock, don’t you? Filthy lil’ thing. Gonna make it wetter n’ cover it in my cum, too, okay?”

He reaches down and fingers at your pussy, pushing himself deeper into you and thumbs where you are gripping his cock. He spits down on it. “She missed me.”

“Need you t’ fill me up.”

“Already begging? Don’t wanna get caught in his truck, do you?” He was mocking you now. “Baby girl, that’s just not good enough.”

“Need-need daddy to fill me to the brim with his fucking cum. Let me have it, sir, please. Plea-“

“Show me who you belong to.”

You widen your legs further and let the orange streetlights filling the car shine on his initials.

“There you go baby.” He growls as he fucks his thick length inside of you, letting go as deep as he can as your pussy clenches around his sputtering cock.

He stops looking at your hole clenching onto him as hard as possible and is instead watching his initials in the jiggling fat of your inner thigh. He grabs it, rubs his fingers over the skin.

His thighs are even thicker from this angle. He moans towards the sky but forces himself to look back down, just as his cum falls from his slit and falls down to your open mouth. He lets go of his cock and lets it throb independently, shooting more of himself into his plump stomach. He’s dripping down himself, coating his own skin.

“Uh uh uh.” His voice catching in his throat every single time the skin between his heavy balls and asshole contract and expand, throbbing.

He admires as the cum chokes back out of your tight pussy as he pushes himself in and out, then removes himself. He watches it slide down and kiss your puckering asshole and decides to finger it back into your cunt, tsk-ing at you.

“Gonna let it drip down to your pretty asshole and not even fuck it back in baby? After all that work? Let me do it for you. Relax n’ let me fuck you here, too.” He slides his thick finger into your ass and lets out a low groan as it swallows him.

He pops himself back out, gently cooing praises at you.

“Whose Hanna?”

“That’s none of your fucking business, Birdie.”

“Is that so? Shouldn’t I have a right to know? Am I just another victim of you and your inability to show the fuck up?”

“Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Daddy showing up to your little party and making a mess in your little hole?”

“Joel.”

“I never fucked her.”

You stared at him.

“Get down there and clean up your fucking mess.” You deserved this. You weren’t being good for him, asking questions.

You pulled your dress down as he tucked himself away. He held your hair back and grabbed your jaw, aligning it with his cum on the black leather seats.

“Now lick.”

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *₊.•

I know I’m missing some of you on the taglist, I’m sorry!! I need to come up with a better way of doing it.

Taglist: @strang3lov3 @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @rubyfruitjungle @leeeesahhh @blackvelveteen1339 @huffle-punk @xxmr-potato-headxx @ssssc0m @paleidiot @sarap-77 @silkiers @gracevn @scarletsloveletter @livingdeadmaria @morallyinept @kittenprincess710 @jubilee82 @cool-iguana @vickywallace @capitulo3-celos @taeslarityy @moonlightdreamingworld @worhols @milla-frenchy @sheepdogchick3 @gasolinerainbowpuddles @justagalwhowrites @bratty-lxndry444

[itgetsdark-x]

If You Want It, You Can Have It

Summary: After a long day of work, your loving boyfriend, Pedro surprises you with baked goods and takeout (and some super intimate, high sex).

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, unprotected p in v (established relationship), oral (m & f receiving), marijuana use / being high, just fluffy smut tbh, vaguely mentioned age gap.

Pairing: Pedro x f!reader

Word Count: 4K

A/N: I’ve never written for Pedro himself before and it felt kinda weird ngl buuuut I spoke about this with @jksprincess10 and I couldn’t resist writing it. I just know Pedro would be so clingy and cuddly when high, he would be full of bad jokes and holding you as close as possible (not to mention I just know this man eats pussy like his life depends on it, even more so when he’s high).

You sighed deeply as you entered your home, the one you lived in with your boyfriend, Pedro. It had been a stupidly long day at work, filled with meetings and arguments and setbacks at every corner, it felt like. Pedro had told you a million times that you could quit your job and focus on your art, he would support you through it but you weren’t wired that way, your money barely covered bills in the house but it made you feel like you could at least contribute in your own way. He admired that about you, most people would have quit their job at the first mention of it but not you. 

“Pedro? Honey?” You called out into the hallway of your home, you were sure Pedro had said he didn’t have anything on today and you were half expecting him to be curled up on the sofa asleep.

“In here, hermosa!” Pedro called out from the kitchen and you couldn’t help but smile at the pet name. 

You and Pedro had been together for a year or so now. You had been visiting New York for a work trip, your friends at work convinced you to not just sit in your hotel room all night and managed to drag you out to a couple bars; and my god, were you thankful for that now. It had all happened so quickly; you bumped into Pedro, physically bumped into him and split your drink down his, no doubt, expensive shirt and as they say, the rest was history. You spent the rest of the evening talking in a secluded corner of the bar, of course you knew who he was, you didn’t live under a rock but this man, he was so down to earth and caring from the get-go. You couldn’t quite believe he had shown such an interest in you, someone so normal, so plain, you thought but since that day Pedro had always looked at you as if you were the most exquisite piece of art. 

You wandered into the kitchen and dumped your work bag on the floor and your keys on the counter. Pedro was baking something, it smelled sweet and you couldn’t help but smile at the male. He was wearing baggy shorts, a black t-shirt which had flour stains on the front and as always, he was wearing those striped, coloured socks, the ones that he always wore, even with shorts, no matter how much you protested and told him they didn’t go or look right. 

He turned away from the oven and looked over at you, immediately he rushed to your side and brushed a strand of hair away from your face with a frown. Of course he knew when you had a long or bad day, he knew everything about you and anytime anything was wrong, he was there to fix it for you. He gently held your face with both of his hands and pressed a soft kiss to the tip of your nose before his plush lips placed a gentle peck to your own. 

“What’s happened, my love? You look exhausted. Beautiful… but exhausted. Bad day at work?” He asked with a frown, your hand came up to take one of Pedro’s and you gave him a soft smile, you still couldn’t believe how lucky you were to have him. 

“I am exhausted; yeah, long day at work, let’s just say that. I don’t wanna bore you with all the details.” You sighed, kissing the palm of his hand you were holding. “What are you cooking anyway? Still surprises me to see you in here, especially when everything tends to come out burnt.” You jested, nipping your teeth at the tip of his fingers. 

“You confusing yourself again, mi amor? We both know I’m the one who cooks and you’re the one… well, who burns.” He laughed softly, shaking his head fondly. “Anyway, I’m baking some brownies… you know, the special kind that helps you relax; I just had a feeling your day was going to be long so thought we could order in some takeout and get high together. If that’s something you want to do.”

You grinned at your boyfriend, his puppy brown eyes were soft and filled with such love as you gazed into them. You leant up to capture his lips in a slow, soft kiss and you smiled against him. 

“You, José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal, are truly perfect. Where would I be without you?”

Pedro laughed, it was a familiar noise that filled your heart with such love. 

“Probably in a dingy apartment, burning your food.” He teased, kissing your cheek before going over to the oven to pull out the hot brownies. 

“I take it back, you��re an ass.” You huffed. 

“You love it, now go upstairs, shower away the bad day, get into your comfy clothes and I’ll order in some Chinese. Happy with that, cariño?” Pedro spoke softly, placing the tray of steaming brownies onto the cooling rack. 

“Yes sir!” You grinned, saluting him before going upstairs to shower. 

—

After your shower you dressed yourself in some comfy pyjama shorts and one of Pedro’s old t-shirts, your hair was thrown up and you were comfy and content. The smell of the freshly baked brownies and Chinese food wafted through the air, inviting you into the living room; Pedro had spread out blankets and cushions on the floor, the curtains were drawn and candles were lit. It was the epitome of relaxation and home for you. 

“Pedro,” you sighed happily and placed yourself next to him on the floor as he handed you your favourite noodle dish. “You’ve done so much for me this evening… what’s going on? Are you about to tell me you’re leaving for six months to film again. I can’t take that news today, baby. Please tell me tomorrow morning.” 

Pedro waved a hand at you in a somewhat dismissive manner and he shook his head. “No, my love, I’ve seen how hard you’ve been working and I wanted to have a relaxing evening. Smoke a bit of weed, or eat those special brownies, relax and listen to some music and hey, I may even get lucky.” He teased, his fingers tickling into your side. 

You batted his hand away and sighed happily as you got stuck into your food, moaning in appreciation as soon as you had your first bite. 

“Still as good as the first time!” You said, a mouthful of noodles. 

Pedro grinned at you, he was just so pleased to see you eating properly again after the stressful past couple of weeks you had barely even eaten a full meal. He brushed some loose hair away from your face and kissed you before he started eating his own food. 

“So beautiful, even with your mouth full, mi amor.”

You rolled your eyes and let your back lean against the plush sofa cushions as you enjoyed your meal. There was one of your Fleetwood Mac records playing quietly in the background, the melodic music filled the empty space and it only relaxed you further, as if with every strum of the guitar strings more of your stress just melted away. 

—

You laid there, lazily as Pedro rolled you both another spliff to share. You had tried his brownies, of course they were amazing and already, you could feel the weed thrumming through your body. Your limbs were heavy and a dopey smile was plastered over your features. Your belly was full, your mind was relaxed and Pedro’s body was tightly pressed to your side. 

Pedro sparked up the spliff, the orange embers glowing in the darkened room and smoke filled the space between you both; he took a sharp inhale and held it for a few seconds before exhaling the herby smoke. You held your hand out slowly and made a grabby hand to take it, he obliged and handed it to you. You repeated the same motion as your partner before tapping the ash into a small ashtray between you both. 

“I fucking love you, have I told you that recently? I love you so much.” You mumbled, the words tumbling from your lips quicker than your brain could comprehend. 

“You tell me plenty, cariño. But I love you too, you keep me sane and I would be lost without you by my side and burning my food.” He grinned, it was boyish and handsome. 

“Oh my god, I get it, I suck at cooking. We can’t all be perfect, can we, Mr. Pascal.” You whined, slapping his arm lazily and passing him the spliff once again. 

“Well, I wouldn’t say perfect.” He smirked. “C’mhere.” He mumbled, tilting his head to motion you over. 

You happily obliged and quickly climbed into your boyfriend’s lap, your legs straddled his thighs and your arms loosely looped around his neck, your fingers toying with the soft curls at the nape. Pedro brought the spliff up to his plush lips, he sucked in a long inhale and held it for a few seconds before drawing you closer with this empty hand; you got the idea and parted your lips for him, he slowly exhaled into your open mouth and allowed you to inhale the smoke. It reminded you of being a teenager and trying weed for the first time with your ex-boyfriend and friends. Only now, you felt truly safe and you could entirely enjoy the high without panicking. 

Pedro stubbed out the spliff, discarding it into the ashtray and pushed it aside, his fingers held onto your hips and he let them dip under the hem of his shirt on your body. You smiled as his warm fingers danced over your delicate skin under the fabric of his shirt. You slowly dipped your head down to press a soft and sensual kiss to the male’s lips, Pedro sighed happily into the kiss as you shared the taste of the lingering marijuana between you both. Your tongue traced over his bottom lip before entering his mouth to be greeted by his tongue, you explored him eagerly as your body moved slowly. The kiss lasted, for what felt like, an eternity as your heavy limbs clung to Pedro for support. 

You could feel Pedro’s cock growing in his shorts and it made you whine, your mouth salivated with the thought of sucking his dick as his hands travelled further up into your shirt. His soft hands ghosted over your breasts, leaving goosebumps in their wake and your nipples hardened as you shivered in his lap. 

“I love hearing you.” Pedro whispered, his lips pressing soft kisses to the expanse of your neck. “Make some more pretty noises for me, please.”

Pedro gently grazed his teeth against your neck just as his hands found your breasts once again, his thumbs rubbed over your sensitive nipples and you moaned in wanton. He couldn’t help but smile against your skin as he elicited more moans from your lazy lips. 

“Pedro,” you gasped softly. “Let me show you how thankful I am for this evening.” You purred seductively, smirking as you shimmied away from his grasp and out of his lap. 

You knelt on the floor, grabbed the waistband of his shorts and gently pulled them down until they were discarded to the side of you both. His cock sprung up as soon as the material constricting him was gone, you licked your lips and gently wrapped your fingers around his hard cock. You gave him a few gentle strokes, your thumb swiped over the tip and you grinned when Pedro gasped loudly, his hips bucking up to meet your hand. You pushed his thighs apart until you were knelt between them and you quickly took the tip of his cock into your mouth, immediately your senses were flooded with Pedro, he’s all you could taste and all you could smell. 

Your tongue swirled around his head before you sunk your mouth down, he was big and you always struggled to take him in but it never stopped you from trying. You breathed deeply through your nose until the tip of Pedro’s cock was hitting the back of your throat, you gagged softly around him and Pedro stroked your hair in encouragement. 

“Fuck,” he cursed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, feels so good.” He hummed, his head lulling back until it hit the sofa behind him. 

You held back your smile as you heard the older male cursing above you and it only encouraged you to work his dick harder. You wrapped a hand around the base of his shaft and stroked him in time with your bobbing head; in a matter of minutes, Pedro was shaking above you, his tender hand held onto your hair for leverage. 

“Baby, stop. Fuck. Gonna cum if you carry on.” He mumbled, his voice shaky. 

You popped your mouth off his cock with a loud pop and looked up at him with a smug grin.

“Maybe I wanna make you cum, right in my mouth so I can taste you.” You whispered, climbing up his body again so you could kiss him. 

Pedro smiled back at you, his hand held your cheek and he kissed you back. 

“Nope, I wanna make you feel good, hermosa. I wanna hear your pretty little mouth as I cum deep in you. Maybe I should fuck a baby into you right here and now.” He said, his words making you shiver. 

“Fuck.” You cursed. 

“Gotcha.” He winked. “Lay down for me, beautiful. Let me make you feel good.”

“Wanna see you first, take off your shirt, please.” You whispered with your hands splayed out onto his broad chest. 

Even though you had seen Pedro numerous times before, there was something within him that was still insecure about his body, he was never forthcoming at removing his shirt. He always felt embarrassed by his slight tummy, you told him you loved it, you loved him. You had told him so many times how attractive you found him, and even if he wasn’t it wouldn’t change your feelings towards him. He always had the counter argument of you being younger and more beautiful, which in your mind, was absolutely ludicrous. 

He nodded slowly, his arms moved even slower to remove his shirt and suddenly you were greeted with the sight of Pedro’s bare chest; his tanned skin peppered with small freckles and hair. Your hands were on his skin immediately, hungrily exploring every perfect inch. Your dizzy mind found heaven within the expanse of his skin and you couldn’t help but lean forward and kiss at his chest. 

“Uh uh, my love. Don’t get distracted.” Pedro warned with a smirk. “Your turn to remove your clothes for me, my pretty girl.”

You nodded and followed suit, stripping yourself of Pedro’s shirt and your pyjama shorts; since you were at home, you weren’t wearing any underwear. Normally, a small part of you would feel vulnerable like this, naked and on display so willingly for your boyfriend but the fact that you were high helped with it. 

Pedro gently pushed your shoulders until you were laid on the cushions on the floor, he protected the back of your head before he could slide a pillow under you. You couldn’t help but smile at the tender motion and your hands softly traced over the vague muscles in his biceps, you couldn’t get enough of him and your fingers wanted to drink in every inch of his body. 

The older male stroked his fingers gently over your face and trailed them down your body, they briefly brushed over your hard nipples until he was at your vagina. He dipped his fingers through your slick folds which caused your back to arch off the ground, Pedro was laid on his side next to you and he gave you a dopey, high smile. His fingers found your clit almost instantly and he rubbed quick circles around your sensitive bud, it had pleasure erupting throughout your whole body. 

“Always so wet for me, mi amor. Drives me mad.” Pedro groaned as his fingers pleasured you quickly. 

“Babe, please. I need you, need to feel you in me. Please.” You whined as your head lazily rolled to the side. 

Pedro would normally argue with you, he would pin you down and pleasure you until you were a wet, squirting mess but not tonight. The marijuana was making him feel more intimate and loving, he wanted to be as close to you as possible, just anything to please you and make you happy. He removed his hand from you and positioned himself between your legs, his gaze locked onto yours with no hint of breaking it. 

He gave in, without a second argument, he pressed himself to your slick hole and pushed in slowly, so tortuously slowly and all you could do was lie there and whine. You let out a small hum of appreciation as Pedro bottomed out in you, the older male groaned lowly and smiled down at your face. You drank in his features, he warm eyes and loving smile, his greying beard and his out-of-control curly locks. You felt so much love for the male, so wrapped up in your adoration for him that for a split second you forgot where you were or what you were doing, that was until Pedro slowly withdrew his hips to pull himself out of you. 

Your head tipped back in pleasure and he gently held one of your hips in his hand whilst his other hand came up to cup your cheek tenderly. He brought your head back down so he could stare into your eyes again, he loved to see your face contort as he pleasured you further. Pedro rolled his hips sensually, with every thrust of his cock he edged you closer to your orgasm and he could tell, he knew every single one of your looks and with the soft gasps and moans falling from your lips, he knew you were already close. 

Your eyes fluttered shut, your limbs felt impossibly heavy but you held onto your boyfriend, his hand was still cupping your cheek and his thumb stroked over your flushed skin. 

“Look at me, hermosa. I wanna see you when you cum on my cock, look at me.” Pedro cooed softly, his voice like warm honey. 

You obliged to meet his gaze once again, his pupils were blown; from lust or from getting high, you weren’t sure but you knew yours were most likely the same. 

“Good girl. So beautiful.” 

You couldn’t help but smile up at him, as he continued to fuck you closer to your ecstasy. Pedro finally removed his hand from your face to drop two fingers to your clit, as soon as his hand made contact with your clit you wanted to shut your eyes and let pleasure fully take over your body but you didn’t, instead you kept your eyes locked on his. It felt like a matter of mere seconds and there you were, cumming all over his cock; Pedro helped you through it, praising you and slowing his thrusts down further. 

He pulled out of you completely, you could see his hard cock glistening with your juices in the flickering lights of the candles as he knelt back. You didn’t even have time to protest before he was leaning down to lick a stripe through your wet folds; your hands immediately found comfort in his soft curls and you moaned loudly, the noise echoing in the silent room. 

“God I love you.” He breathed into your core, his tongue lapping at your juices eagerly. 

You smiled, your body feeling as if it was floating in midair as Pedro pleasured you. Your fingers entangled further into his hair and you ground your hips down softly onto his face. Pedro smiled against you as your hips moved, he loved how eager you got to chase your high. 

“You’re so perfect. Taste perfect too, hermosa.” Pedro groaned, his voice breathy and rugged. 

Pedro wrapped his lips around your sensitive bud, his moustache tickled at you but you were soon pulled from that thought as he suckled at your swollen clit. The tip of his tongue flicked on it as he sucked at you, your head was swimming and your eyes closed shut as your hips bucked up to meet Pedro’s mouth further. 

“Pedro, papi… fuck. Gonna cum.” You whimpered as Pedro brought you closer. 

“Cum for me then, mi amor.” He whispered against you, resuming his previous position of his lips. 

One last final flick of his tongue and you were seeing stars, your fingers gripped at his soft hair weakly, holding his head in place as you found you’re high on his face. Your greedy hole fluttered weakly around air as you craved for Pedro to fill you once again. 

“Fill me up,” you breathed as Pedro lapped at your arousal softly. “Please.”

Pedro peered up at you, his soft brown eyes were blown with lust and his own highness. He repositioned himself and lined himself up with your hole, he bottomed out in you quickly with a deep groan. 

“I’m not going to last long, baby. Fuck, you’re so perfect. So beautiful, my love, you’re everything.” Pedro mumbled, his face was buried into your neck and he peppered soft kisses to your skin there. 

His hips rolled sensually, everything felt all too good and simultaneously not enough, you needed to feel closer to Pedro. Pedro’s hands You’re wrapped your arms around your lover and held him closer, Pedro hummed in appreciation at your embrace as he drove his cock into you deeply. 

“I love you.” You whimpered. “I love you so much.” 

You were shaking as you held onto Pedro, you could tell he was getting closer by the way his hips faltered and he kept his thrusts short and deep. He made soft noises into the skin of your neck, they were soft whimpers and it only made your heartbeat quicken, a sense of pride flushed over you as you were the one to make him feel this way, you were the one to have him falling apart at the seams in your arms. 

“That’s it, baby. Cum in me, please. Want all of you. Feels so good, I need it. Please.” You cooed. 

Pedro bit softly at the skin on your neck as he came, you felt the first hot spurts of his cum deep inside of you and you moaned at the sensation of finally having his release into you. Your arms held him tighter, his face nuzzled into your neck further and he kissed along your jaw as he worked himself through his orgasm. 

“Cariño,” Pedro sighed as he rolled onto his side with a soft wince. “Thank you. You’re amazing.” He kissed your cheek and held your face in his hand as his thumb smoothed over your bottom lip. 

“You’re amazing.” You corrected him before you leant in to press a soft kiss to his lips with a dazed smile spread over your face. “I need to go shower again, I’m all messy and sweaty. Plus I need to come down from my high a little otherwise I’m gonna be a big mess for work tomorrow.” You laughed softly. 

Pedro continued to stroke your face, smiling at you the entire time. 

“Fine but afterwards we should get into bed and watch a movie or something. Something funny! And I want snacks! I think we have those chips you love from the UK in the pantry or those chocolates we both like. Maybe I have some of those Chilean cookies I love!” Pedro listed, his brain working quicker than his mouth could. 

“You’re such an excitable little puppy sometimes, babe.” You laughed and shook your head fondly at your boyfriend. “I heard The Bubble on Netflix is meant to be pretty good, kinda funny or something. All I know is there’s a super hot guy in it. Pedro something.” You teased, winking at the male as you slowly stood up from the floor. 

“I dunno… I heard that movie sucks.” Pedro grinned up at you and took your hand to follow closely behind you. 

The rest of your night was spent making out lazily in the shower followed by lying in bed together and watching a romantic comedy in bed whilst you continued your high-school make out session. The air was filled with ‘I love you’s’ and sweet nothings before you fell into a deep and peaceful slumber. 

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[imaginesbymonika]

“Shame”

A Pedro Pascal x fem!Reader fan fiction

Plot: For the last four years, Y/N and Pedro have been dating in secret. The fear of rejection has turned them into a mystery that could only be encountered in yearning looks on red carpets or hands that are touching one another briefly. However, for the longest time, things have been working out that way just fine. But now Pedro's agency wants him to have a PR relationship with another woman and neither Y/N nor Pedro is sure if their love is going to survive that.

Warnings: angst, fear of rejection, one sided love, heartbreak, maybe fluff i am not sure yet

"They're right outside the door and they don't know How it feels so good, it feels so good.”

And I don't need anything other than you!"

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

[blissfulbarbie]

Maybe Twice a Year / Pedro Pascal x Reader

A sequel to Just Once a Year

The soft glow of Pedro's phone illuminates the dimness of his bedroom. He viciously scrolls through the headlines, the words stabbing like daggers as he reads the tabloid's sensational claim: "Y/N L/N Pregnant with Rumored Boyfriend Henry's Baby!" With a frustrated sigh, he throws the phone onto his bed, resentment and heartbreak coursing through his veins. It was bad enough that he was jet-lagged. Reading this basically confirmed he wouldn’t be getting sleep tonight - or any night in the foreseeable future. 

It had been months since your fateful reunion at the awards show and neither of you had spoken or run into each other since then. But that once a year promise of hope in Pedro’s heart was about to turn into two. The theatre company that you and Pedro were patrons of (along with a few other notable names in Hollywood) was launching a new program and you were both invited to the gala. 

Pedro wasn’t sure if you’d turn up. To be honest, after reading the news, he didn’t know if he even wanted you to show. Knowing that you were pregnant with another man’s child cut deeper than he thought it would. Throughout his whole life, Pedro never saw himself as a father, adamantly believing that he was content without fatherhood. That all changed when he fell in love with you. 

A week later, Pedro found himself getting ready for the gala. He was nervous, hands shaking as he fixed his tie. “You’re going to be fine. Just breathe and if you ever need an escape, call me and I’ll come rushing in saying your cat is having a medical emergency,” his assistant and close friend Andrew quips. Andrew knew everything about the two of you, and he was the first one Pedro confided in after that run-in at the awards show. 

“Thanks man. I’ll be fine. Please don’t harm any imaginary cats for my sake,” Pedro smiles. “I think maybe this will do me some good, you know? Closure and all that."

Andrew claps a hand on his shoulder. “If you need anything, I’m one call away.” 

He enters the venue where the gala is being held, and as always with these events, he felt worlds away from the glitz and glamour of Hollywood. One of the things he missed about being with you was that you were the only person who made him feel like he had a place in all of this.  

He mingles with fellow attendees, his smile masking the turmoil that churned within him. His gaze wandered for a bit, and there you were with a group of other guests, your laughter mingling with the tinkling of glasses.

Pedro's heart skipped a beat, but he couldn't tear his eyes away. He watched as you hold a champagne flute, your lips curving into a smile as you converse. The weight of the tabloid's claim hung over him like a storm cloud.

Summoning his courage, Pedro approaches you, a forced nonchalance in his tone. "Hey you. You supposed to be drinking that?" Damn. He forgot his hello’s and hi how are you’s. 

"Huh?" your eyes flicker with confusion, brows knitting together.

Pedro's cheeks flush as he realizes his reference to the tabloids. "I mean, you know.. With the um..” He makes a vague gesture towards your stomach region. 

You laugh with genuine amusement. "Really, Pedro? Since when do you read the tabloids?” 

He chuckles nervously, the tension between you momentarily eased. "I have a lot of free time these days.” (Lie) “I just happened to see it while scrolling around." (Another lie) “So you and Henry aren’t expecting–”

“Henry and I aren’t anything. Other than friends and co-workers.” You smile at his floundering. 

“Oh. Sorry. I– yeah, the damn tabloids.” Pedro huffs at his foolishness, maintaining a facade of nonchalance on the outside. Internally, all his tension and anxiety from the last few days washed away and he finally felt himself breathe easily for the first time since reading the article. 

As the night unfolds, you and Pedro eventually retreat to a quiet corner of the event, away from the prying eyes and the hum of conversations. The stars cast by the chandelier glitter above you, a mirror for the spark of emotions that still bubble within you both.

"I lied. I was looking for articles about you," Pedro finally admits, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

Your gaze was steady, eyes holding a mixture of understanding and slight amusement. "I know. And you believed them?"

Pedro shakes his head, his fingers toying with the edge of his glass. "No, not really. It's just.. I used to know everything about you and now the only way I get any news about you is from the fucking tabloids. I miss knowing what you’re up to. It’s just.. Old habits die hard I guess.” Pedro swirls his glass, the alcohol loosening his lips and easing the weight on his heart just a little. 

You sigh softly, features softening. "Pedro, this past year has been hard on me too. We were best friends and I’m sorry for the way we ended things. We could’ve stayed friends. It wasn’t a messy break-up, right? We could’ve stayed in contact.” 

“No,” Pedro denies flatly. “No we couldn’t have because.. I’d have always wanted more.” Pedro knew that this was the God’s honest truth. As much as he loves you and wants you to be happy, he knew that having to watch your life from the sidelines as a friend would never be enough for him. 

You reach out, placing your hand over his. "You deserve a relationship where neither of us has to fight each other for attention. You deserve more than 5 minute hello’s and goodbye’s in the dead of night.” 

You stand in companionable silence for a moment, the world around you fading into insignificance. The year apart seemed to dissolve as you shared a quiet moment, the barriers melting away.

"I've missed you," Pedro whispers, his voice barely audible. “I know I shouldn’t say this but I have. And the truth is, you’ve spoiled dating for me. I’d take that 5 minutes with you every day if it means I get that 5 minutes with you every day for the rest of my life.” 

Your gaze meets his, eyes glassing over. "I've missed you too. Of course I have. But we can’t do this to ourselves again. It was never about love or a lack of it, you know that. If we could’ve made it work, we would have. It’s just.. our lives and our careers."

As the night grew older, you remain in your secluded corner, not talking, just enjoying each other’s company in private for the first time in a year. Both of you silently fantasizing that this night would never end and that you’d be here in your little bubble forever.

When the gala finally comes to an end, you and Pedro make your way outside, the cool night air washing over your skin. He takes a deep, audible inhale and turns to you, voice cracking with the weight of parting from you again. "You’re it for me, you know? If it’s not you, it’s not anyone else.” 

“Pedro…” 

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” He places a soft kiss on your cheek and turns to leave, his car and driver already waiting for him, leaving you with a face reddening from the alcohol and... something else.

-

I wasn't gonna do a sequel.. but my first ever fic (Just Once A Year) hitting 100 notes is something to celebrate so I hope you enjoy! Tagging @just-some-random-blogger because this is gonna surprise you and @cinnamon-todd because your comment was honestly the motivation for me to write a sequel!

[joelswritingmistress]

Last Halloween: Chapter 13

Summary: After a tragedy involving Joel happened on Halloween one year prior, the town now shuns him while ignoring the details of the now closed case. You are seemingly the only one to offer empathy to a man the town is making out to be a monster.

Joel Miller x f!reader

You and Joel placed your jack-o-lanterns out on the front porch and placed a fake candle in each.

"So.. who wins?" Joel asked.

You took a few steps back, glancing back and forth between the two traditional pumpkin faces. "Hmm.."

Joel joined you and folded his arms across his chest. "Mine's pretty spot on," he teased.

You huffed a laugh. "Umm.." you extended an arm and pointed your finger. "The mouth is a little crooked there on the left side."

"You nose is upside down."

You laughed out loud again. "There's no such thing as an upside down nose."

"I'm looking at one." Joel motioned to your pumpkin and he smirked when you laughed again.

"You're full of jokes tonight."

"I have a lot of tricks up my sleeve."

You playfully shoved his shoulder, and Joel leaned into you, bumping his shoulder against yours.

"Well?" You asked.

"Well what?"

"I say I win."

"Even with the upside down nose?" Joel raised his eyebrows.

"It's a smaller fault than the crooked mouth," you said matter-of-factly.

The two of you stood back, shifting your eyes back and forth from one carved pumpkin to the next before Joel finally turned to you. He stared you down for a few seconds before you finally both cracked a smile.

"So.. what does the winner want?" Joel asked.

"Well.." You were beyond being coy and undid the button of his jeans before slinking up the two stairs onto the porch.

He raised his eyebrows and smirked with a nod to himself. "Well."

Joel chased you in through the door, carrying on with the playfulness that began when carving pumpkins. You let him catch you before he scooped you up off the ground where you began kissing him immediately with arms and legs wrapped around him.

You laughed some more and caught your breath, welcoming him back against you as he sat you on the kitchen counter. Joel was still chuckling against your lips and you wrapped your arms around him.

"God, I love you," you said without realizing it. A second later it registered what had just left your mouth and you stuttered. "I mean this. This.. I love this. Feeling like this.. around you.. with you."

Joel hovered a few inches back, still smirking, and seemingly not concerned by your word choice. "I know what you meant."

"I just got caught up in the moment.. having fun.. and the pumpkins and-"

He silenced your concerns with a kiss and you moaned into his mouth, making him laugh again.

"You're cute when you're nervous," he spoke against you half-open mouth . It made you giggle again as he stepped further between your legs.

You pulled him in for another heated kiss. There had been no other sexual encounters in all of your life that left you feeling so affected; so hot and heavy. You couldn't get enough of Joel.

He ran his lips across your jaw, nuzzling your neck and you arched in a way to give him whatever access he needed. As his teeth gently scraped against your sensitive skin, his experienced fingers began to unfasten every button on your tight-fitted flannel.

When the front of it came free, you shrugged one shoulder back, letting it fall off your arm and his hand snaked beneath your exposed bra to knead your breast. It was complete sensory overload.

Your hand got tangled with his, bumping into one another on the side of frantic. Keeping on with the tone of the evening you both laugh for a just a fleeting moment as you struggled to remove the last of your clothes.

When he pulled you back to the edge of the counter, connecting himself to you, your laughter vanished. Joel's hands first landed on your hips, then he slid them up your sides. He couldn't stop touching you, kissing you.

You threaded your fingers through his thick hair as your tongue fought for dominance with his as you made love. It wasn't long before you were drunk on the sensation; on the pleasure. When his rhythm finally stuttered and he cursed and groaned into your ear, you banded your arms around him to pull him close.

The heavy breaths that landed on your neck made you bite down on your bottom lip. When Joel pulled his face back you let your tongue lazily glide over his lower lip. He finished the kiss for you and you smiled against him, hugging him close.

Joel's palms pressed into the counter on either side and he bowed his head, breathing heavy still.

You began to giggle and reached into his hair to remove a lone pumpkin seed. When Joel looked back up at you, you both laughed simultaneously.

"Well.." he let out another deep exhale, "Being the loser of that contest doesn't feel so bad."

"No?" You toyed with his hair some more.

"I mean, if I won I was going to ask you to play a board game," he joked, making you laugh again.

When the room grew quiet again you sighed and looked back at him directly in the eyes again. "This has been a great night. It might be my favorite so far."

Joel maintained your stare and purposely referenced your tongue-in-cheek, word choice slip up from before. "I love this night." He tipped his mouth up in a little smirk and put a heightened emphasis on the word *love*.

You were glowing in the darkness and beamed a smile. "I love this night, too."

By the time midnight rolled around you still couldn't sleep. You didn't know what it was but for at least a half hour after Joel had drifted off you still stared up at the ceiling.

Your thoughts alternated between being self-conscious about the three accidental words you said to Joel, to reliving your favorite date night with him thus far and even feeling a tad guilty for not missing your own home.

The little place you shared with your friends has been your sanctuary for nearly two years. In the past when you dated someone and spent a night outside of your own bedroom, you often couldn't wait to get back home into your own space. Maybe that was an immediate sign that those people weren't the ones for you.

When it came to Joel, you knew you could've stayed locked away in his house indefinitely. You had no desire to leave or go home. It scared you a bit - in a good way. You did miss your friends, however; but you knew there were stints that Winnie stayed at her beau's house and you didn't see her for days on end. It was normal. You were all on the verge of entering a new stage in your lives, whether personally, professionally or both.

For a second you felt sad about that. The end of an era was creeping in and you could feel it. But it wasn't happening yet and you knew from experience that different didn't mean worse.

You had a quick reel of visions of visiting each other on holidays and being PTO moms together. It was enough to make you smile.

When you glanced back at Joel you smiled to yourself. You lightly played with his hair and rolled onto your side to leave a kiss on his temple. Prior to becoming involved in his life, everything about Joel was heavy and melancholy. You witnessed it every time he had entered the coffee shop. Seeing him so completely care free all evening and into the night made your heart feel full.

A noise from somewhere outside made your whip in the direction of the open bedroom door. You took a breath and listened, sitting partway up so you leaned on your forearms.

"Joel." You whispered his name, not wanting to wake him. Your anxiety took over. "Joel?" You gently rubbed your hand over his bare shoulder and glanced back in the direction of the door when you heard another noise.

"Yeah?" He mumbled, not opening his eyes.

"I heard something."

"It's probably the house settling." He draped an arm over you.

Another thud got his attention and Joel sat up, eying the rectangular alarm pad on the wall by the door. He threw the covers to the side and walked over to check to make sure the house was still alarmed. It was.

Joel reached for a white bathrobe that hung on the back of the door and threw it on.

You reached for a hoodie on the floor by the bed and followed him out the door. Out in the dark hallway things felt eerie and still. Nothing was out of sorts or out of place, but as you approached the staircase that cascaded down into the living room foyer, you felt your heart rate climb another notch.

Joel took the staircase slowly, one step at a time and you left a hand against the center of his back as you trailed him.

There was another alarm pad by the door and Joel lifted it to turn it off.

"Why are you doing that?" You whispered.

"So I can check outside without tripping the alarm," he said quietly and flicked on the porch light.

You grabbed his arm when he opened the door and let out a breath when you stared out onto the illuminated area.

The remnants of pumpkin were scattered across the welcome mat and splattered across the door. The faux candles were still lit. One was on the steps leading up to the porch and the other had rolled off to the left of the mat. It was like a little jack-o-lantern graveyard.

"Well that's nice," Joel said dryly. He glanced from side to side and then to you.

"I'm scared," you admitted.

Joel flicked off the light and stepped back inside, pulling you with him. "It's dumb pranks," he assured you.

"I don't know." You shook your head and Joel reset the house alarm.

"Come on." He pulled you by the hand but you pulled back and he stopped.

"Someone was at the house, Joel."

"It's kids," he insisted. "And if not then.. well.. then we're out fifty bucks for the pair of smashed pumpkins."

You sighed out loud and braced yourself against the door.

Joel extended a hand your way again. "Let's go back to bed."

"What if someone's still here."

"They're gone." He shook his head. "I bet if you go to the next few houses on the road their pumpkins are smashed too." Joel reached fully for your hand this time. "Come on. I'll clean it up in the morning."

You tried to feel as calm as Joel appeared on the surface and trusted him enough to follow him back to bed. He cradled his body around yours from behind when you slid back under the covers and you linked your fingers through his around your waist.

"Try to get some sleep," he whispered by your ear and then kissed the top of your shoulder.

You closed your eyes for a moment and then they fluttered back open. Despite Joel's calming nature, you found yourself wide awake for a long while, fighting off the heaviness that crept into your eyes before finally drifting off to sleep.

CLICK HERE FOR CHAPTER 14

@untamedheart81 @amyispxnk @grogusmum @ghostwritesthings @strawbunnyx @ayamenimthiriel @noisynightmarepoetry @jiminstinypinky @tuquoquebrute @pedr0swh0r3 @runningmom94 @mellymbee

[pedritosgirl2000]

All credit for this art goes to @ illustraice on Instagram

IMAGINE OLD RACECAR DRIVER JOEL?!

[xmissrogersx]

“Shit, i love this skirt” | Joel Miller

tags: Post-Outbreak. Fluff. +18. Period issues.

a note from pris: i write this during my period, and all i want to say is I NEED A JOEL IN MY LIFE RIGHT NOW.

my writing is entirely my own. Any adaptation and/or copy is forbidden.

i hope you are enjoying my stories! U help me a lot if you give me a ♡! All the love.

priscila’ masterlist

-Do you have the same one but in another color?

“Count to 10, Paris" I said softly, otherwise I'm going to kill the stupid girl in front of me. One, two, three...

-It's a blanket they picked up on patrol, not a pair of Manolo Blahnik.

-What's that? -said the one next to her. You're kidding me, they must be in their 40's and have no idea what i just told them.

-Are you going to take it or not? -they looked at each other, causing me to take a breath and pick up my mental count and avoid exploding.

-Are you sure there isn't another color?

I could swear my eye twitched the moment I got up from my chair, which caused the others in the room to turn their gazes towards me.

-Hey…why don't we go outside, okay? -Maria approached me and pulled me out, preventing something worse from breaking out.

-Sorry, but i couldn't stand those two assholes anymore —I explained, putting my hand on my belly as I suddenly felt a cramp, making it obvious what was happening to me. I hated it when my period came. She put my hand on my lower back for support.

-Why didn't you tell me and stay home? I know it sucks when it happens, honey.

I nodded slightly, not ignoring the truth, although deep down I wanted to keep my job at Jackson.

-Does Joel know?

-No, no. I didn't want to worry him, he had the patrol with Tommy and if I told him he'd probably chain me to the bed and not let me out.

-As if you don't like it when he do that —she said, raising her eyebrow, provoking a laugh from both of them.

-Don't make me laugh, I feel like I'm going to fall over.

-Speaking of Rome —she nodded his head at the entrance.

Getting off his horse and cleaning his shotgun, he was wearing a T-shirt that clung to his body due to the heat of the incipient summer that was already approaching, along with pants that molded his strong legs. Even if they had shouted that they were attacking us this damn moment, I couldn't take my eyes off him.

-All mine...—Maria laughed softly when she saw my expression.

-You're so horny, girl —walking over to the Millers, but not before approaching Joel, who quickly raised his gaze to me. He walked away from them, and in big strides was already lifting me up in his arms.

-Joel...

-Why didn't you tell me, baby? —He locked his beautiful brown eyes in mine.

-I love you... very, very much —I smiled innocently.

-That's not going to work,pretty girl.

-I'm sorry, daddy —I whispered the latter in his ear and kissed his lobe, getting a growl from him and a little giggle from me.

We walked through the front door, where he deposited me on the living room couch and then kissed my forehead and went upstairs to prepare the bathtub, since the book I had read and under Mary's advice, the hot water helped the cramps in my belly.

Just for one second imagine for a minute this man with glasses on reading a manual about the female period. When I thought Joel couldn't be more attentive and gentle, I caught him in that situation.

-Hi, Paris —Ellie walk inside and set his backpack aside.

-Hi,cutie, how was school?

-I hate fractions, seriously, why the fuck do I want to know how to divide a cake, I just split it and that's it.

-First of all, language. Second, it's important that you know it, even if you don't believe it, it's useful for everyday life.

-Like what? -He frowned and I opened my mouth to answer, but no word could come out of my lexicon.

-You're right, they're not good for shit —I answered with a laugh from her.-Well, I'm going upstairs…

-¡Paris, your skirt! -she suddenly exclaimed. I turned my head to literally see the fabric covering my ass with a small red stain.

-¡La puta madre! ¡Shit, i love this skirt! it's my favorite, i was going to wear this for your presentation.

-We can wash it, Maria must have something or some weird substance to fix it.

My eyes glazed over at how worried she was about me. Just like her father. I wrapped my arms around her body, to which she reacted in kind. On the outside many times Ellie appeared to be a tough and somewhat coarse girl, but it was only because of the constant struggle she had gone through for the longest and shortest part of her life. She's just a kid.

-I know how bad it is when it happens to you, and you don't deserve it —she said with her face in my chest, her voice distressed.

-Relax, I'm fine —I whispered, stroking her hair —I couldn't be better, I have my family and that's all I need.

-Being a woman sucks, I wish I was half as brave as you —she looked up at me, to which I laughed to hug her tighter as I quickly denied.

-I don't agree, ¿you know why? Because we are intelligent, fearful, brave. You faced unimaginable things, Ellie, and every time you came out of it, you got stronger.

-She’s right.

We both turned around when we heard him. He walked towards us and wrapped us in his arms to lift us off the ground laughing in unison.

-Let go of me, I have to go, old man —she pulled out of his grip to run away.

-So...we have about, what, ¿2 hours for Ellie's play? —I frowned uncomprehendingly, to which he once again pulled me back to my feet —I brought chocolate almonds, just the way you like it.

Damn crazy hormones. Tears began to fall down my cheeks as if a waterfall was flowing down my face. He tried to calm me down but I put my hand on his lips, silencing him.

-Joel, please, you don't want to take me like that after you see me from behind —I said embarrased.

-You have nothing to be ashamed of, sweetheart. Actually, I like the way you looked at me when I came in from the raid —I opened my mouth wide.-You made me feel attractive —he said softly, to which I immediately brought our lips together.

God, I'd been holding back since this morning, points for holding back.

-Joel Miller, did you ever look in the mirror? —I stroked his mustache and beard.-Because I can assure you that Jackson's women do.

-I don't care, darlin'. The only one who can bring me to my knees is you. And I should also say that I've seen you get looks from more than one idiot at the bar.

I sighed and kissed his cheek. We went into the bedroom, and he put me down on the bed to bend down and start taking off my shoes.

-You're mine —he said kissing my thigh as he began to undress me, making me hold my breath. He wanted to etch into my skin that I belonged to him, now and always.

[thewritersaddictions]

Drabble- (A/A) Pedro Pascal: Internets Daddy

You'd come to the bar with your friends, and they were all currently drunker than skunks, so you had drifted away from your table, telling them you'd be back with more drinks later rather than sooner.

You took the time you had at the bar quickly, taking long, deep breaths and regaining the little control you had left. You weren't drunk like your friends, but you were sober either, so when a man came up to the bar and sat down next to you. Your body reacted. Your cheeks were red with a blush from sitting next to such a beautiful man. You eyed him from the corner of your eye as you sipped at your margarita. His voice was what blew you further into the depths of blush. "I like your nails." He says first as he talks loudly over the bar music. You look down at your nails gripping the glass and lick your lips.

Muttering out a quiet 'thank you.' Your nails aren't unique; they are painted at home because going to the nail salon alone is too expensive nowadays. A black lay underneath a sparkle color on top; they sparkled under the bar's neon lights. When you look at him finally. You're in awe at the man sitting next to you. A strong jawline with stubble all over, and that nose. He was smoking hot from the side, but now that he was looking at you. God, you felt like you were on fire.

"My name is Pedro." He says so sweetly, reaching out a hand. You grab it shake his hand, and tell him your name without stuttering or completely fucking up your name. After that, words flow between the two of you. He asks why you're at that bar alone. "What would a gorgeous woman like you be doing alone at the bar?" He says it differently than other guys say it. It doesn't feel like he's degrading you; instead, he simply wants to know how you haven't gotten caught up in a relationship by sitting at the bar alone.

"I came here with some friends, but… um, I'm the least drunk and need some air." You tell the new stranger honestly. He nods like he understands what you're saying, and for once, it feels okay to talk to a random person you've just met about your promise, hopes, and dreams. You shake yourself of the thoughts and continue your conversation with him. You ask Pedro what he does for work, but he rolls right over it.

"Your accent is very nice," you mutter, and a warm smile grows on Pedro's face. "Thank you," he says sweetly. The conversation bats back and forth. The glasses are refilled in front of you a few times before the both of you cackle and touch each other. His large hand is sitting comfortably on your thigh.

The two of you end up in the bathroom with the door secured behind you. Pedro's hands gripped at your waist, pulling you into his chest. His cologne is clogging your senses, making you fall deeper into whatever trance this is. The trance is only further pushed along when Pedro's lips land on yours. Soft and gentle at first, but all that sweetness is left when you pull him by the jacket to deepen the kiss.

Rough nips at your bottom lip between his teeth and deep groans fill the air between the two of you. "You taste so good, honey." The pet name has you yearning for more, so you give him more. You lower down to your knees. A strong hand is carding through your hair, and the other rests on the door above you. You lick your lips and start to undo the trousers. You easily pull the zipper down, leaving little to the imagination.

When you pull his cock out from his boxers, he hisses at your soft but cold hands. His cock is already leaking pre-cum, so you lick it up, sucking gently around the tip of his cock, not fully taking him into your mouth yet.

"I swear carnio, I don't normally act this way. You're just so damn pretty." His words make your already hot cheeks even warmer. "I understand, Pedro." You say, but then your lips are back around his cock, taking his full length down your throat. What you can't get down your throat, your hand makes up for. Jerking and sucking his cock. You never once break eye contact with him as your continue to suck his hard length.

He doesn't have you on your knees for very long before he's dragging you back up and into his arms. He presses a hot kiss to your lips, and your moans are swallowed by his mouth. "Fuck your so hot." He whispers into your lips as he drags away to take a look at you.

"Can I fuck you?" He asks, and it makes you wanna squeal like a schoolgirl. He's just a gentleman, but he's asking and needs an answer. You nod, but it's not enough for Pedro. "I need words, baby." He says, and it has you melting further into whatever is between the two of you. "Yes, please. Fuck me, Pedro." Something shifts behind Pedro's eyes as he picks you up, guiding your ankles and legs around his waist. "Gonna fuck you so good, cardio. I'll have you forgetting your name." His words are slick and warm, like honey.

The dress you were wearing bunches at your hips, and you come to feel the massive length that is pressing itself into your wet cotton panties. Pedro can feel it, so he ruts himself into it. Causing your back to hit the tile wall. Your head falls back, leaving your neck exposed for Pedro's wet kisses to land on. It doesn't take long for Pedro to get frustrated with the thin piece of cotton between you.

He shoves them to the side, and your shiver with anticipation along with the cold air that hits your soaked cunt. "Look at you. So pretty. All this for me, mi amor?" He asks, and you nod, uncaring what he genuinely asks you. At first, you feel the blunt tip of his cock nudge at your cunt, and then the feeling of being open and torn into like a package. "Fuckin' hell. Squeezin' me so tight." Pedro mutters while waiting for your pulsing walls to let him in even further.

The pace is set; at first, he slows down and thrusts his hands, searching for yours. Then, the pace changes as your moans start to flood the bathroom. His hips pistoning into yours. His denim jeans deliciously scratch your skin with every thrust he makes. Your nails, blunt as they may be, still leave crescent shapes through Pedro's shirt and into his skin. His lip is between his teeth as he tries to ground himself. "Oh please don't… don't stop Pedro." Your moans are high-pitched but not fake, and Pedro is itching to hear more of you.

But everything must come to an end. Pedro's thrusts are fast and hard, his grip on your hand even harder. Your head bangs against the tiled wall behind you before your legs shake and your eyes roll back. The next thing you know, words you don't understand are whimpered into your ear as Pedro's thrusts are slow and erratic.

It's not long before Pedro's warm feel disappears, and a wet paper towel is pressed between your thighs. "That was…" You say, trying to catch your breath. "You, mi amor, have a beautiful body," Pedro says, not really finishing your own thoughts but making you blush.

Pedro helps you walk out into the crowded bar after a few minutes of getting yourself back together. He gives you a warm smile and kisses your cheek before putting something on a napkin and placing it in your hand. He presses a soft kiss into your cheek and one last playful wink before he approaches the door.

Not until days later, when your friends are talking about celebrity crushes, does someone bring up Pedro Pascal? The name does strike you as odd at first, but the image that your girlfriend brings up on her phone has your cheeks red and your panties growing wet. You had… and he left his…

You rush towards the bag you had that night in the bar. Pulling out the same napkin he had given you. A row of numbers and the words 'Call me' are written on it.

Completed on: 02/03/24

Posted on: 02/12/24

[extraordinarybennyyy]

marvellous time ruining everything

pedro pascal x reader

tw: none

"Am I fat?" 

The compelling, indisputable and unambiguous question left the Chilean actor speechless, his dark eyes darting between you and your reflection in the mirror. Your long skirt billowed around your ankles, swollen belly carrying the bloom of your everlasting love, light glinting on your earrings.  Such a glowing and dazzling creature, yet heartless for letting him face a question without a proper, right answer. Femme fatale. 

A bomb unleashing a war.

Pedro stopped drinking from the straw, tasting the green juice on his lips. The rays of the Sun filtered through the window curtains of Oscar's house, creating a picture of shadows and lights as if you were a famous painting, a Mona Lisa. 

His heart was beating fast both from how charming you looked, glowing and shining with the child inside you and from the question still lingering inside the room, like a dark cloud threatening the weather. 

"Pedro?"

"¿Qué?"  He pursued his lips and started drinking his juice once again nonchalantly, even if the box was already empty. An image of his mind at that moment, one could say.

"I asked you something."

"Umh."

You swivel around to face him, hands anchored to your hips, stars shining in your eyes. The hair framing your features perfectly fell on your shoulders like Niagara's falls, your painted lips shaping that question once more. Pedro felt like a kid in trouble, his mind processing an excuse to get out of the terrible situation. 

Of course you had gained a little bit of weight. It was reasonable and obvious, the opposite would have been weird and left him as a worrying mess. And, of course, it didn't mean that he loved you less. Pedro loved you, the essence of you,  the feeling of you. He would have loved you in every shape and form, worshiping you like a goddess. He would have even loved you if you were a worm, as he told you countless times to answer your weird question.

However - 

Pedro had learnt the lesson the hard way. A few months back before even knowing you were pregnant- which seemed like years and years ago, he had noticed your little weight gain and roundness when you complained about clothes not fitting in anymore. Inconsolable tears and sobs filled the house for the entire day and more, the ticket for an unwanted concert. 

That's why that question weighed a little bit more than others. What was he supposed to do? Lie and make you happy or tell you the truth and face the aftermath of it? It sounded like the stupid games his nieces made him play sometimes, where he always ended up choosing the wrong thing. Like that time he wanted  Eric the asshole to be nice and heroic but Pedro eventually let him die while falling  into the void. 

Your expectant eyes were still looking at him, both hands on your belly. White lies are good ones, like candies, he told himself, and the last thing he wanted was seeing you cry. And unleash a bomb. 

That's why he raised his head confidently, acting lessons helping him go through it, a little shaky breath leaving his lips before actually answering. "No." 

An unreadable and indecipherable expression portrayed on your face. You were a lock and he was the adventurous archeologist who had to find the code to open it. Pedro felt like Indiana Jones for a brief moment and was ready to flash you a smile to give strength to his statement, when-

Out of nowhere, like the annoying know-it-all first of the class child telling the teachers everything the others did, muppet-like Oscar Isaac  appeared behind Pedro's left shoulder, uttering his non-requested opinion. "You hesitated." 

The bomb exploded.

[pedritoferg]

I have a special announcement to make: I have now been converted to the Dave York fangirl club.

I previously never understood the hype for murder daddy (I think due to my love of Pedro characters with facial hair) but now I would v much like Dave to put me in a chokehold and call me names and that my friends is called ✨growth✨

I would like to thank every Dave York fanfic writer personally for making me see the light and adding another Pedro character to my list of those who make me 👹feral👹 each and every day 🧎‍♀️

[art-estrange]

(AMAMOA) Chapter 2: People Are People

Professor!Pedro Pascal x Teaching Assistant!Reader

Words: 1073

Masterlist

*All Pictures used (unless stated otherwise) will be found on my pinterest linked in the masterlist*

Story Warnings: MDNI 18+ (mostly in the off chance that I choose to explore heavy themes later on. This will obviously be updated at a later time) Crocs(yes that has a warning, i’m kind of obsessed with wearing crocs and currently own 2 pairs hopefully more in the future)

Story Content Tags (most of this is mentioned in later chapters.): Meet-Cute, First person perspective, Age-gap(F28/late 20s/early 30s x M40/late 30s/early 40s), Art references, new york nonsense written by a non-new yorker, spanish/spanglish, Lots of college technical talk, this was kinda based off a dream, crocs, College AU, AU where pedro isn't an actor/famous, slightly proofread… sorry for typos i'm trying guys😭😭😭

Chapter Summary: Reader comes to a possibly devastating realization on the way to the gallery, however Pedro remains his goofy-golden retriever self. Also Sarah Paulson is there, she’s a fellow professor at NYU and seems to be friends with Pedro… maybe more? 

LATE JUNE(PICKING UP AFTER CHAPTER 1):

With my outfit layed out, I slept like a baby with dreams of that sharp nose and bronze skin. The soft caress of his fingers against mine, those gentle puppy dog eyes like pools of warm cocoa. Pedro was in my dreams that night and the anticipation to see him again was almost palpable. I woke up that morning almost with a start, a jolt to rise from the sweetest slumber I had ever had. I got dressed and went about my day completing some lighter chores that I had left till the last minute. With a belly full of breakfast and a latte in hand, I slipped on some shoes at the door and went on my journey to see the man that’s invaded my dreams. On the way to the gallery I had a lot to think about, mostly the fact that when I looked at the fliers, both for the TA/Professor gallery and Pedro's…it was the same flier… I knew I had seen the flier before but I didn’t think it was the same flier I had seen earlier that day. In the back of my mind, despite having only thought about Pedro the whole morning, there was still a creeping feeling that the goofy loveable handsome Pedro I met yesterday…. Is my boss… or pseudo boss?? Or whatever, is the same Pedro that emailed me… the painting professor. It’s not exactly wrong if, per say in future, we were to pursue a relationship… IF that ever happened, not saying it would, but it wouldn't be bad if it did. He’s not my teacher… he’s a coworker… that’s higher up than me but he’s not the one ‘signing my checks’, sort-of-speak. The whole situation is conflicting, I mean there’s no denying that Peter/Pedro from the cafe is Peter/Pedro from my emails, he said it himself, his job has to do with painting and it's the same flier. There’s no way that they’re not the same person… there’s no way that there’s 2 Pedro’s/Peter’s both doing a job having to do with painting, having an art gallery AT THE SAME TIME IN THE SAME PLACE WITH THE SAME FLIER AREN'T THE SAME GUY. I worried about these intricate details, wringing my hands anxiously before texting him to ask if he wanted a coffee on the way there; just another way to delay the inevitable. I arrived with my watered down latte and his 6 shots of espresso over ice, still can’t believe he drinks this. The place was lively, there was light music playing in this brownstone walk-up that sat between an apartment and a warehouse turned studio. It wasn't too far from where campus resides, we were about a 10 minute walk in the direction of greenwich. I sent him a text letting him know I arrived and that I’d wait outside for him with his coffee.

Out walked the man of the hour. He strutted out in a fuzzy cardigan, no shirt underneath, his messy mop of hair now a quaffed wave of tresses trickling down the back of his head like a soft waterfall. A gold chain adorned his neck surrounded by a light smattering of chest hair. His dress shoes clicked against the concrete as he lifted his sculpted arms, fingers decorated with rings, to pull me into a warm hug. “Oh my god! I’m so glad you could make it! AND you brought me coffee!?” He exclaimed holding me out at arms length, inspecting my outfit and face almost like he’s committing my look to memory. “I mean it was on the way and I wouldn’t want to miss the opportunity to celebrate my new friend!” my worries were still in the back of my mind, but on the forefront was how good he looked and how I should be enjoying myself. “By the way I hope you don’t mind, but most of the people here are colleagues from work plus some grad students that’ll be working alongside us for the semester. I mentioned I’m a professor right?” He gestures to the people inside and then looks around as he speaks, ultimately stopping to stare at me as he says the words that I dreaded the most. “Um no, you didn’t! But… there’s actually something I wanted to-” As I get to the topic that’s been flooding my mind, we get interrupted. “Hey! Sorry to cut in! Pedro we’re ready to have like the speech thing, everyones mostly here. Except for your TA… she RSVP'd but like I dunno.” What I’m assuming is a fellow professor, mutters the last part as though thinking out loud. “Oh! Ok thanks! Um Y/N this is Sarah Paulson, a theatre professor at NYU and a super close friend of mine. Sarah, this is Y/N, we met a couple days ago, remember the girl I told you about?” He introduces us as he holds both our hands. They talked about me…wait..they talked about me? THEY’RE CLOSE FRIENDS AND THEY TALKED ABOUT ME?! “Oh yeah, THIS clumsy bitch loves to make people bust their asses! It’s like the spacial awareness isn’t there or something.” Sarah laughs, wrapping her arm around his shoulders, head leaning against his, as she busts his balls about his goofy behavior. “Why don’t we go inside so you can see some of the pieces, maybe you can make some more friends while I have a short convo with some of my coworkers and the grad students?” He leads me in, his large hand guiding me by my lower back as Sarah strides in front of us. The warmth from his hand spreads throughout my whole body just as he levels himself to whisper in my ear “Don’t worry about her, she loves to tell people how much of a mess I am, while being a mess herself…that’s probably why we’re soulmates in a sense” the last part is muttered in thought, almost like I wasn't meant to hear it. Soulmates? Well that complicates things...more so than they already were…

Now's the best time to tell him, otherwise I'll never get to say it. “Hey so before we walk in there’s something I need to tell you…” I pull him aside so as to not block the entrance. “Yeah? What’s up?” he says, those puppy dog eyes boring into my soul, concern written all over his face. “So..”

To be continued…

Note: If you can’t find chapter 1 for whatever reason (it doesn’t wanna show ip in the pedro pascal x reader tag for some reason) you can find it on the masterlist linked above alongside the prologue and this chapter and any future chapters.

[papapascal]

Classroom Crush (Pedro Pascal)

The strap of my bag is practically creating an imprint on my shoulder from how tight I was pulling on it, but also because it’s holding two textbooks, a laptop, and a few folders for my classes today. One of my scheduled classes always gets me feeling giddy and nervous all at the same time. Every Tuesday and Friday I attend the same classroom for two different courses, both of them obviously taught by the same Professor.

Today is Friday, and that means I’ll be there for my Feminist Theory class. History has become my passion, but even more now since the man who teaches them is pretty easy on the eyes. There’s nothing more attractive than a man teaching a women’s history class and knows exactly what he’s talking about. Our class is mostly made up of women, and a few men sprinkled about. Let’s just say this Professor has our undivided attention. Half is looks, half is his exuberant personality, which just makes information absorption a lot easier.

“Are you ready for class?” My best friend appears beside me as I’m in route to class, and the smirk on her face was evident that she was teasing me. She knows I have a crush. “You’ve got this little pep in your step. It’s actually quite adorable. Professor Pascal would be flattered to know how excited you are for his class.” She then gives out a laugh at the way I tensed up and focused on how I was walking so I wouldn’t have that ‘pep’ in my step.

Great, now I’m going to be hyper aware of how I’m walking to his class from now on.

“Oh, shut up!” I grumble.

We turn the corner to head down a hallway when we hear music. It gets louder the closer we get to his classroom.

“Is that—“ F/N begins but pauses to listen closer. “Is that Beyoncé?”

We step into the classroom, following behind other students. They start laughing, and I couldn’t figure out why because they were blocking my view, but when they disperse to head up the stairs to their seat, I see it. Our Professor is dancing. Terribly. And every time Beyoncé asks ‘Who runs the world?’ he’d shout ‘GIRLS’.

F/N began to laugh. I cracked an amused grin.

“What is happening!?” F/N asks loud enough so she can be heard over the music.

“Good afternoon, ladies!” Professor Pascal greets us, ignoring F/N’s question and slightly out of breath.

Behind him is a large screen that has a quote pulled up: There is no limit to what we, as women, can accomplish - Michelle Obama.

Once everyone is seated he uses a small black remote that turns the music off. He perches himself on his stool. He looks very sophisticated for someone who was just dancing to a Beyoncé track—a brown cardigan, a white t-shirt underneath, green, baggy pants, and black, shiny shoes. He’s also wearing a pair of black, bulky glasses on his face. His hair looked groomed but also like he just crawled out of bed. It’s hard to explain, but it looked perfect on him.

“Wow, I’m going to be feeling this in the morning,” he jokes before taking a deep breath. “Don’t question it if I end up laying on the floor in the middle of class.”

Everyone gives out a laugh in unison.

“You’re getting too old, Mr. Pascal,” one of the men in the front says.

Professor Pascal shoots him a glare as his hand reaches back and rubs his lower back. “Fuck you.”

We all laugh again.

“Good afternoon, class! Today is March first, which means for the next thirty days we will be celebrating Women’s History Month, although, we should be celebrating our women and appreciating our women everyday!”

Simultaneously, we’re all clapping.

“Lucky for us though, we get to do just that, even when it isn’t March. There’s people in this world that don’t understand why we devote an entire month to women. I would simply ask them, why not? One day isn’t enough to teach the countless accomplishments women have made that have greatly impacted our history…our lives…our world…and as individuals.”

I’m mesmerized by the way the words flow through his mouth without a slideshow. He knows what he’s talking about. He’s a proud man who is proud to celebrate women. He recognizes women. There’s nothing better a man can do.

He goes on to tie in the quote on the screen before he jumps into the curriculum. He keeps his voice loud and clear so nothing is unheard or misunderstood. He’s confident in his education. He loves women in a way it’s harder for other men to do the same. And how do you not form a crush on someone like that? He keeps my faith in humanity alive.

I enjoy the brief moments he lays his beautiful brown eyes on me.

“I’m going to throw another quote at you, because we like quotes in this class. G.D Anderson—feminism isn’t about making women strong…women are already strong.”

There’s a ‘WHOO’ from the back of the classroom.

“It’s about changing the way the world perceives that strength,” he finishes. He’s quiet for a second to allow us to soak in the words before proceeding. “And you know what, I’ll throw another one at you. Melinda Gates—a woman with a voice is, by definition, a strong woman.”

Clapping fills the room.

“We’re going to name off some strong, impactful women. Just throw them at me.”

“Frida Kahlo.”

“Harriet Tubman.”

“Wilma Rudolph.”

“Clara Barton.”

“My mom.”

“Love that answer!” Professor Pascal exclaims, pointing a finger in the direction of a man who said his mom.

“Me!” I answer loud enough.

He claps his hands together. “Yes!” His eyes are wide and practically sparkling. I couldn’t tell if it was just me but he always lights up when I participate. “If I was capable of doing a cartwheel I fucking would!”

“Give it a try,” one of the students call out.

“Alright!” He raises up from the stool, holds his arms up high above his head, and jerks his body to one side, making it seem as if he was actually going to attempt a cartwheel but not. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” He chuckles and slides back onto the stool.

“No, try it!” Another student exclaims.

“I think I’ll have bigger issues than a sore back if I attempt it. Knowing me I’d tumble off the stoop here,” he says, hand pointing down to the single stair that creates a step up to the stage-like platform he’s set up on. “I bet you guys would like that, that’s why you want me to do it.”

“Psh, no,” the same guy he cursed out earlier says.

“I’m too old, right, Randy?” Professor Pascal shoots.

I always forget the guy’s name even though him and our Professor always banter during class. They have a great, playful student-teacher relationship. They’re always amusing the rest of the class. Something inside me envies that…

“I mean, you can prove me wrong right now,” Randy says, shrugging.

“There’s nothing wrong with being old, Randy, but if you keep it up you better have quick hands to catch a flying stool. Anyways!” He flashes us a pearly white smile while we all laugh. “We are surrounded by women who are impactful that you forget that you, as an individual and a woman, leave an impact as well. Your actions and voice are just as strong and important.”

He claps his hands together. “Alright, that’s all I’ve got for you guys today! Enjoy your weekend, stay safe, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Is there anything you wouldn’t do?” Randy asks.

“Exactly. Go have fun!” Professor Pascal exclaims.

Everyone begins gathering their belongings and filing out of the classroom while he turns the music back on. He’s back to dancing, even a few students joining him while they’re leaving. I giggle while still packing my things, shoving my textbook and unit folder back down into my bag. F/N gives me a little wave as she leaves without me.

All of the seats are empty except where I’m sitting, eventually standing up and slinging my bag over my shoulder.

“I enjoyed your participation today, Y/N.”

I look over to find Professor Pascal approaching me, hands stuffed in his pants and a thoughtful smile on his face to match his kind eyes.

“Oh, yeah, it’s a good class to participate in,” I say, and it’s the truth.

“Gotta keep it lively in here, you know? People should be excited to learn about women. It can’t just be another history class.”

I pull the strap of my bag tight on my shoulder. “You’re doing a great job at it. Probably one of the best classes I’m taking. And really, it all depends on the teacher when it comes to how we absorb the information. You keep it real and exciting,” I say.

He chuckles, and I notice the dimples in his cheeks. They make him appear younger—child-like.

“Well, I don’t want to hold you up any longer. I’m sure you’d like to begin your weekend,” he says.

My brain immediately flipped through anything and everything I could possibly say to get me to stick around a little longer. I’m not quick with thinking when I’m in the presence of someone I believe is attractive—man or woman—but today it’s going at full speed. “Wait, could you maybe help me out with the paper that is due on Monday? I’m almost finished with it, but just need help with a few info pieces.”

“Absolutely!” He perks up and pulls his hands out of his pockets while I scramble to throw my stuff back down into the seat. “What ya got for me?”

I flip the top open on my computer and my paper immediately pops up on the screen since I was working on it earlier during class while he was discussing a topic I’m writing about. “I just need a few more things to back my thesis. Like, I have an idea of something but I don’t know how to incorporate it.”

Professor Pascal sits beside me.

“I wrote down a few potential pieces to add though,” I say as I whip out my unit folder and pull out a loose-leaf piece of paper that had my written ideas and citations scribbled down on it.

He reviewed what I had written down, nodding his head as he read, and I’m assuming liking what I had written. He points out the best ones to back my thesis, and then he’s rattling off more from the top of his head that could strengthen my argument further.

I enjoy being in his presence, especially this close to him. The aroma of his cologne lingers off of him and fills my nose. He smells just as good as he looks. He’s then pointing to something on the screen, but I’m too busy watching his hand to listen to anything he’s saying. There’s a tattoo between the space that separates his thumb and index finger. It looks like a bullseye. Simple, but makes me wonder what the meaning is behind it.

“You still with me, Y/N?”

I snap out of my thoughts the second I hear my name. “Huh?”

He begins laughing at me, eyes scrunched up to reveal crows feet, and his face looking absolutely squish-able. Who knew men could be adorable? “I asked if you were still with me, but I think that ‘huh’ just answered my question!”

“Oh!” My cheeks fill up with heat, so I know they’re tomato red. “I’m sorry, I think I just spaced out a little. Sorry.”

“Here.” His large hand slides the paper in front of him. “Got a pen?”

I reach down into my bag, and my fingertips touch a familiar plastic, and I fish out a pen, handing it to him. He gently takes it from me and begins to scribble down I guess the information I missed. “Apply this to your fifth paragraph.” He writes the number ‘5’ next to what he wrote. “And then this…” he jots down more words, “for your conclusion.” He writes ‘conclusion’ next to that one. “But your paper is phenomenal so far. How you transition between each argument and topic is beautiful.”

I could kiss him right now. I could press my palms against his scruffy cheeks and press my lips against his and just experience the warmth of him, or even his hand against my neck. For someone who is a very proud woman, I’d risk anything to have a chance with him. He’s too professional to sneak around and create a romantic connection with a student like me. He’s older. Way older. It’s unforeseeable to believe he would pursue someone as young as me.

He’s sliding the paper back in front of me. “I enjoy having you in my class,” he says.

We connect eyes, and for a brief moment his eyes flick down to my lips and then back up to my eyes. It could also just be my imagination. I’d be delusional to think he’s attracted to one of his students. It was my imagination.

“Just finish this up on Monday. You can turn it in late, even. A lot of work has gone into this paper, I can tell. Just go enjoy your weekend, okay?” He smiles softly before getting up from the seat.

I close my laptop and slide it into my bag, along with my unit folder that I slid the loose leaf paper into. “So I get special privileges?”

“If you tell anyone I just might have to kill you,” he jokes. “Now get out. You’ve already wasted thirty minutes of your weekend sitting in my classroom.”

“Alright, alright, I’m getting out!” I pull my bag over my shoulder.

“Git! Git!” He’s waving me out like an old man trying to chase me off his lawn. “Don’t touch that paper until Monday, you hear!?”

I give him a thumbs up while I’m scampering out of his classroom.

[imaginesbymonika]

“Shame” (Part 1)

A Pedro Pascal x fem!Reader fan fiction

Plot: For the last four years, Y/N and Pedro have been dating in secret. The fear of rejection has turned them into a mystery that could only be encountered in yearning looks on red carpets or hands that are touching one another briefly. However, for the longest time, things have been working out that way just fine. But now Pedro's agency wants him to have a PR relationship with another woman and neither Y/N nor Pedro is sure if their love is going to survive that.

Warnings: mentions of sadness, blood

The young woman can feel how blood is dripping down her neck and she drops her hand to glance down at her nails. It is not a lot of blood, maybe a couple of drops but holy fuck does it feel good. Y/N knows that this was a messed up thing to think, but she just can't help herself. It takes a couple of seconds, but eventually, the shame washed over her like a wave, dragging her into the open ocean. She feels beyond grateful to be the only one in the dressing room right now because she doesn't even know how to justify this kind of behavior to anyone.

Y/N quickly stands up from her place on the couch and walks over to the small bathroom, where she grabs a towel to press onto the stinging spot right beneath her left ear.

The embarrassment sinks deep into her bones and Y/N wonders if this is something she will have to live with from now on. Like some sort of emotion that she just will have to endure and endure… fuck… all she ever did was endure. She lowers the light blue towel and stares at the small dark speck. A sigh leaves her lips. She feels stupid, childish, and immature. She shouldn't have hurt herself, he wouldn't want that.

At the sound of her iPhone going off, Y/N turns her head. The muffled ringtone is coming from underneath the couch, and when she kneels down to grab it she flinches. "Fuck!", she looks down at her hand, where she cut her fingers on the split screen. Everything feels like a blur:" Come on, Y/N. Get it together!" She grabs her phone and softens when she notices Pedro's face.

"Yeah?", she asks and brings the phone up to her ear:" What's up?" She rolls her eyes at her own choice of words. She says 'what's up' as if she doesn't know the exact reason why he is calling her right now. Pedro clears his throat:" I- I just wanted to check in with you. Ask if you are okay."

Y/N nods:" Yeah, oh no I'm okay. Thanks." However hot tears are threatening to roll down her cheeks and she lowers the phone to cover the microphone with her other hand. She takes a deep and trembling breath, before letting out a frail whimper. Nothing was okay.

"Okay. Good.", Pedro answers after a few seconds:" See you tonight?" Y/N smiles at that:" Yeah, sure. See you later." "Great.", Pedro's voice is flat and if she didn't know it any better she would think that he was crying right now. But considering how he is presumably inside the venue for the Emmy's she highly doubts it. "I am not going to the after-show party, I'm returning straight to you after this."

"Okay.", Y/N hears how loud music is playing in the background of the call. "Okay, I have to hang up now. Remember, I love you okay. Please remember."

"I love you too, so so much."

[blissfulbarbie]

Just Once a Year / Pedro Pascal x Reader

Sequel out now: Maybe Twice a Year

The grand ballroom was alive with the shimmering glow of chandeliers, an ethereal scene that provided a backdrop for the most prestigious awards ceremony of the year. This was the first time Pedro was being nominated and he was nominated for not 1, not 2, but 3 awards. As a first timer, he has broken records for this achievement - and yet what should be a night pure of celebration and joy for him is tinged with sorrow. 

He found himself seated in a sea of Hollywood's elite, his heart a complex interplay of anticipation and trepidation. The vacant chair beside him was a stark reminder of the impending arrival of his ex-girlfriend.

Pedro's fingers tapped rhythmically against his thigh as he waited for the inevitable moment. He stole glances at the entrance, his chest tightening with each passing second. And then, there you were - radiant as ever in a gown that shimmered like stardust, hair cascading down your back. A small part of him felt relieved that you didn’t appear with your new rumoured beau, but had taken your brother as your plus one instead. 

Your eyes met briefly, a connection that carried years of memories and emotions, before you turned away, gaze drifting toward the stage. Pedro's heart raced, and he fumbled with his cufflinks, trying to mask his turmoil with a composed facade.

"Hey Pedro," your voice, warm but cautious, pulled him from his thoughts. "It's been a while."

Pedro's lips curved into a polite smile, one that concealed the storm of emotions raging within him. "Yeah, quite a while."

As the awards ceremony unfolded, a symphony of applause and cheers filled the air, a stark contrast to the uneasy silence that hung between Pedro and you. You exchanged pleasantries about the weather, your recent projects, and the industry's ever-shifting landscape, all while the ghosts of your shared past danced beneath your words. 

“How is it we’re talking about the fucking weather when I know what you look like at 2am when you’re too anxious to sleep?” Pedro thought to himself silently. 

"You look absolutely stunning tonight," Pedro ventured instead, his voice carrying a note of wistfulness.

A soft smile tugged at the corner of your lips. "Thank you. You look handsome as always. And God I can’t believe I forgot to say this already but congrats on everything. You’ve been in some amazing stuff lately.” 

He chuckled softly, his gaze fixed intently on you. "Thank you. So have you,” he replied but he was finding it hard to produce words in his mouth when all he kept thinking about was that you had been keeping up with his projects and had seen his shows. He wondered if you liked them. He wondered if you were proud of him. 

The nominees for each category were announced, and the room brimmed with palpable tension. Pedro's name was called, and he graciously accepted the award, his gaze briefly locking with yours as he did. The applause that followed felt distant, as though they were enveloped in a world of their own making. He didn’t know if it was appropriate to hug you before he went to get his award, although he dreamt of this moment his whole life. For you to be the first one he embraced when he finally made a name for himself - it’s all he’s ever wanted. But he knows he shouldn’t, so he turns to his sister instead before making his way on the stage. 

When he returns you give him a polite congratulations and the show goes on. In a momentary lull between awards, you turned to Pedro, a soft sigh escaping you. "Can I be honest? This.. sucks. I don’t know how to make small talk with you anymore.” 

Pedro nodded, a shared understanding passing between the both of you. "I know. I don’t either.” 

As the ceremony neared its conclusion, Pedro found himself stealing glances at you. There was something different about you—an air of newfound confidence, a sense of independence that he hadn't seen before. Pride mingled with a touch of melancholy as he realized that both of you had evolved since your tumultuous breakup.

Just before the event drew to a close, you leaned closer to Pedro, your voice a soft whisper in the cacophony of the room. "Congratulations on your award, Pedro. You truly deserve it. More than anyone else in this room."

"Thank you," he replied, his voice holding a tenderness that belied the complexity of the situation.

As you stood to leave, you turned to him, your eyes holding a mosaic of emotions and words left unsaid. "Take care, Pedro."

"You too, sweetheart," he responded, his voice a gentle murmur.

Walking away from each other felt like a symphony of unfinished sentences and unspoken feelings. Pedro couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia, of the love you once shared and the heartache that followed. Yet, an unexpected thought bubbled to the surface of his mind: "I get to see her. At least once a year, I get to see her." It was a sentiment that resonated deeply within him, a small solace that fueled his determination to excel in his craft, to secure nominations, and to continue crossing paths with you in these fleeting moments. You were a brilliant actress and he had no doubt you’d continue climbing your way to the top. He wanted to be there when you did. Even if he didn’t get to be by your side when you did, he’d settle for being in the same room.

As he exited the grand ballroom, Pedro cast a final glance back at you, who stood amidst a constellation of fellow actors and industry luminaries. A surge of pride swelled within him as he watched you shine, your accomplishments standing as a testament to your talent and resilience. In that moment, despite the awkwardness and pain that had punctuated your encounter, Pedro felt a genuine admiration for you—a reminder of how far you both had come and how he’d never stop rooting for you.

He walked away with a heart brimming with emotions, knowing that the annual awards ceremony had become more than just a gathering of stars for him—it was a canvas upon which your shared journey would continue to unfold, inspiring him to strive for greatness and to keep crossing paths with the woman who had once captured his heart. He would settle for watching your life through pictures and screens if it meant he could have this moment with you - once a year.

-

Dedicated to my babycakes: @just-some-random-blogger who co-erced me into writing <3

[joelswritingmistress]

Last Halloween: Chapter 10

Summary: After a tragedy involving Joel happened on Halloween one year prior, the town now shuns him while ignoring the details of the now closed case. You are seemingly the only one to offer empathy to a man the town is making out to be a monster.

Pairing: Joel x f! Reader

You wanted to tell Joel about Vic but you decided to keep it to yourself for now. He was so at ease when you'd last seen him at the house that you didn't want to ruin it on account of the same jackass's behavior.

When you got down to the junk yard you spotted him working on a car across the dusty lot. The thought of him being there all by himself made you shudder. If someone wanted to do him harm he wouldn't have anyone nearby to turn to. The place was like its own little ghost town.

"Hey," you greeted as you approached.

He squinted and smiled. "Hey."

"Picked us up some chips, too."

"Thank you." Joel showed off his greasy hands but leaned in for a quick kiss.

"I can put them in the shop," you suggested, making him nod.

"Sorry I had to come in like this. I know we sort of unofficially had planned to spend the day together."

"Ronnie seems like a good guy," you said. "I think it's nice that you helped him today."

"He's been my only friend through all of this," Joel acknowledged with a nod. "And he's a great boss, so.."

You completely understood. "Hey, um.. not to sound paranoid but, you're safe here, right?" You elaborated to make more sense. "I ask because it's so quiet here. You're all alone. Anyone could just wander in."

"We usually keep the gates locked until a car shows up but I knew you were coming down," Joel informed you. "No one really messes with us out here."

He lead the way into the bay. "I'm just going to wash up. I'll be right back. There's a picnic table out behind the building if you want to eat there."

"Okay." You made your way back out and wandered around the side of the brick building. The picnic table sat alone beside the woods line where the chain link perimeter fence blocked out the rest of the world.

You reached in the bag, setting Joel's sandwich across from where you sat with yours. He joined you a moment later with two cans of Diet Coke.

Vic's name was on the tip of your tongue. You didn't know what to do - tell Joel or remain quiet about it.

"Everything okay?" He asked as he unwrapped the paper around the grinder.

"Yeah." You managed a smile and did the same, taking a bite from the end of it.

Joel squinted his eyes but began to eat. "Rosa's has the best sandwiches in town."

"Yeah, they're good," you agreed.

He took in your posture again and looked you up and down. "Hey." Joel reached for your hand across the table. "If things are moving too fast, I want you to let me know."

"I don't think they're moving too fast." You insisted, shaking your head.

"I kind of put you on the spot this morning with asking you to stay over again.. and again." He laughed lightly but quickly became more serious.

"I was happy you asked," you told him. "Really." Your smile widened.

Joel smiled back, "You'd tell me otherwise?" He asked.

You slowly nodded, continuing to grin as you rounded the table to sit on his lap. Your arms wrapped around him and you leaned down and placed a long, closed-mouth kiss on his lips.

"I have to tell you something," you told him, not wanting to keep secrets. "I just saw Vic Champagne at Rosa's. I didn't know who he was and he confronted me."

"What did he say?" Joel's face grew harder and he looked at you more intently.

"Nothing worth repeating."

"Did he threaten you?"

You shrugged. "I think ignoring him and not letting him get a rise out of us is the best bet."

"Did he threaten you?" Joel repeated.

"Not.. exactly."

You could see that internally Joel was fuming. That's what you didn't want. You wanted to see the contentment in his eyes like he had thirty second before.

"If he threatened you-"

"He didn't." You sighed and then a smile formed on your face again. "I just didn't want to keep it from you. That's why I told you. Don't let some idiot ruin our lunch together."

Joel let out a deep, decompressing breath and he fought back a smile that eventually broke through. "You don't play fair."

You leaned down and peppered his lips with a short series of kisses. "Can I change the subject and ask you something?"

"Go ahead." His arms wrapped around the base of your back and he locked his fingers there, holding you more firmly in place.

"Are things moving too fast for you?"

Joel looked you directly in the eyes. "No." He shook his head. "I just want to make sure we're on the same page because this all just kind of.."

"Came out of nowhere?"

"Yeah." Joel then added, "In a really good way."

"I'll be up front with you about everything concerning us," you vowed. It seemed to satisfy him but he changed the subject back to Vic.

"I don't want you to be alone after dark or in a place that someone like Vic could do something to hurt you."

"I'm not worried about Vic."

"I am." Joel nodded.

"He seems like he's all talk."

"No. He's not."

The way Joel said that sent a chill down your back. He was genuinely concerned, especially for someone who could most likely hold their own in a fight if it came to it

"He's dangerous," Joel went on. "If he comes near you again and I'm not there I want you to call the police. I'd tell your friends that, too."

"Has he, like.. hurt people before?"

"I don't want to speak ill of the dead, even Johnny, but Vic is way worse. Both of them were bad, been that way since high school and before. Johnny just held it together for the sake of his future football career. Vic never had anything to lose. He has a short rap sheet but he's done more than the law has caught up to."

You nodded and let out a sigh.

"I'm not trying to scare you, but please just.. can you do that for me? Not going alone places you don't have to?"

"I won't," you promised.

"Do I sound controlling?"

"No," you said right away. "You sound concerned.. and for good reason."

"I don't want you to take on my burdens," Joel started but you put a finger on his lips.

"I'm on your side. Don't try to ditch me. I'm in this with you now."

You kissed him once more and then sat back across from him so you could finish your lunch together.

"What do you say we go to The Mischief Farm tonight?" You offered. "There's some cider tasting, we could get some pumpkins to carve. There's the outdoor spot where you can order food and sit by the cornfield."

Joel smirked and gave a nod. "Alright."

"I have some things packed up if the offer still stands to stay over."

"The offer still stands," he confirmed and then asked. "Do you friends know about.. us?"

"Jess knows. She came to the bar with us that night," you informed him. "She's asked me about forty questions since last night. I haven't had a chance to even talk to Winnie or Chrissy."

"Jess probably thinks I'm the weird old guy serial killer or something, huh?"

You laughed. "She actually thought you were kinda hot, and is kind of wishing for, what she calls, a forbidden romance of her own."

Joel chuckled. "Well, I'm glad she doesn't hate me."

"No." You shook your head.

The two of you finished up your sandwiches and Joel walked you back to your car.

"I only have about an hour-and-a-half," he said, "And then I'll meet you back at my place."

You stared around the oversized junkyard, noting someone could be on the grounds so easily without either of you knowing it.

"Are you sure you're okay here alone?" You asked him.

"I'll be fine."

"Well, what about what you said to me about being careful? I want the same for you."

"Outside of work I'll play by the rules," Joel told you. "It's only fair."

You looked around again and made a face. "Okay. But keep your phone's ringer on so I can check in. I don't trust people."

"Okay." Joel kissed you, thanked you again for lunch and you reluctantly drove back out of the gates of the junk yard.

CLICK HERE FOR CHAPTER 11

@untamedheart81 @amyispxnk @grogusmum @ghostwritesthings @strawbunnyx @ayamenimthiriel @noisynightmarepoetry @jiminstinypinky @tuquoquebrute @pedr0swh0r3