#Pedro fanfic
Text
The Apartment
(Lucien Flores x F!reader)
Summary: Porn with very little plot. Lucien is your sleazy pot dealing neighbor.
Warnings/Content: Drug use (weed and blow), nicotine use, alcohol use, groping/sexual harassment (not from Lucien), some mild jealousy, age gap between Lucien and another chick (20s), fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, pull out method, spitting of bodily fluids (idk the proper term for it).
Word Count: 4,900+
Dedicated to: @ohheypedrito who held a gun to my head until I wrote this (lol jk, or am I? 😰)
Other Tags: @kateispunk @survivingandenduring @kellybelly1978 @awilderi @oberynslady @daddy-dins-girl @heavennumber2 @natdeandar @chronically-ghosted @morallyinept idk who else to tag.
You hear the party long before you even make it to your apartment block, droning 90s alt rock cascading down the sides of the building.
The residence itself is aging and quaint, not exactly located in the nicest area of downtown, but also not the worst. At least, you’d like to think so.
You had inherited the apartment from your grandmother when she passed several years ago. Roughly four dozen or so residents, including yourself, shared the building with you.
Amongst said residents was Lucien Flores, who had also inherited his apartment, from his mamá Claudia, who now lived in the suburbs, last you cared to hear. You didn’t speak to Lucien often, or the other inhabitants for that matter, other than in passing in common areas.
It’s roughly 11PM when you arrive home from work that night, your legs weary and straining as you make your way up the creaky old stairs to the third floor.
Lucien lives at the opposite end of the hall on the same floor as you, but that doesn’t seem to make the music any quieter, or the cloying stink of weed any less prominent. As you navigate your way through thick plumes of smoke and fog, you’re sure you’re getting a contact high just walking to your apartment.
You sigh. It’s going to be another long night.
The hallway is crowded and you push your way through a myriad of faces you’ll likely never see again after all is said and done.
As you make your way through the gauntlet of tight and twisting bodies, you feel unknown hands belonging to a faceless entity groping and pawing at you as you pass; you snarl and slap them away. Your palms sting from the contact, incorpereal laughter bellowing in your wake.
You spot Lucien just as you’re reaching your apartment, propped up on his shoulder against the wall, ankles crossed casually, watching you. Silk watercolor shirt practically dripping down a broad torso, hair mussed and gnarled, a gold chain nestled in the hollow just beneath his throat where his shirt is undone to the third button, exposing smooth, olive skin.
He wasn’t the man who groped you, no, you’re sure of that. He was too far away for that to be possible.
A filterless cigarette is perched between two of his fingers, cherry glowing brighter as he takes a long drag, tendrils of smoke curling into the air and consolidating with the rest as his dark eyes study you.
You stare back, unblinking. And then he moves without warning, graceful and fluid as a lithe cat, pushing his way through the crowd and seeking out the man who had touched you only moments before. Unlike yourself, he could pinpoint the man’s face without hesitation.
Without so much as discarding his cigarette, Lucien’s free hand twists around the man’s collar, pulling his face close to his own. Teeth gnashing, face contorted in a sneer, Lucien spews what you can only imagine is pure venom from two plush, pink lips. You wish you were close enough to decipher the words, but the last thing you want to do is fight and claw your way through the crowd again. So you perch against your door and watch, doing your best to garner context clues as the man’s face goes pale and his eyes widen.
Their gazes suddenly dart to you in tandem, making you flinch. And then, seemingly cowing to Lucien, the man lifts his hands in defeat, drifting down the stairs and out of sight without so much as another word.
Lucien’s dark visage finds yours again, his head cocked forward, as he brings the cigarette to his lips a second time, cherry visible through the fog.
You dip your head in acknowledgment and gratitude before disappearing to the welcoming confines of your home.
——
Just after 2AM and the music is still raging, hard as ever.
You aren’t surprised. Lucien, your building’s resident pot dealer, seemed to know everyone. And everyone, him.
His parties were commonplace enough to be a regular hindrance to your sleep cycle. Not to mention the other residents. But the cops were rarely called… people in your neighborhood didn’t particularly care for law enforcement. Cops weren’t too fond of the neighborhood, either.
You lie in bed, wide awake as the bass thrums on without an end in sight, clad in only a pair of panties and a t-shirt. Your head hurts, and you have work tomorrow. You crossed the border of pissed long ago. Now you are fucking livid.
Lucien couldn’t keep getting away with this. You had to say something.
You slide out of bed, throwing on your house robe and slippers as you make your way back out to the corridor.
Most of the party had drifted inwards, into his apartment, but a few stragglers lingered here and there. Some were drinking, some smoking. Some were doing a little of both.
You could see into his home just slightly, getting a glimpse of the pink walls his mother had painted years ago, the ugly palm frond wallpaper lining the kitchen.
Your eyes zero in on Lucien right away. His shoulders, rounded and bunched around a thick and corded neck, colorful silk shirt swimming along his waistline.
His back is to you, a young woman — who you think can’t be older than 24 or 25 — is pinned between himself and the wall, one of his hands positioned next to her head, the other folded as he lifts a pile of white powder to her nose. She brings one of her hands up to pinch the other nostril closed as she snorts the substance into her body; Lucien’s lips curve into a wry smirk.
Your gaze shifts lower when you register movement, finding her opposite arm extended between the two of them, palm cupping and stroking his cock over his pants. Lucien doesn’t appear to be reciprocating her touch, which seems to have her more than a bit… frustrated, judging by the look on her face.
Cinching your robe tight, you approach the couple, clearing your throat loud enough to catch them both off guard.
The woman, whomever she is, draws her hand back instantly, eyeing you with disdain at the unwelcome interruption.
Lucien’s eyes flit to yours. Then, slowly, blatantly, the same dark irises travel down your form, methodical in how he checks you out. He isn’t even attempting to hide it in front of her.
You glance away, your skin heating.
With a scoff, the woman dips under Lucien’s arm, whispering something to him before she joins the rest of the party inside. He nods to her, disinterested, before turning back to you.
She’s beautiful and young. Lucien is twice her age and roguishly handsome, a truth you didn’t care to indulge often. You aren’t the least bit surprised by what you walked in on, as he always seemed to have a revolving door of women hanging around.
“Hey, baby. Want a bump?” he asks you.
“Fuck, no. I actually want to sleep tonight,” you tut, crossing your arms in indignation. “I have work tomorrow and I’m already exhausted. Do you think you could lower the music? Shut your door, maybe?”
His face falls and his lips pinch into a frown at your utter and outright rejection, although he understands your reasons and chooses not to argue, checking you out a second time. You feel your skin growing warm beneath the robe at the attention.
“For you. Anything,” he murmurs.
You roll your eyes but dip your chin in gratitude anyway. “Thanks.”
He turns to shut his door behind him, drowning out a better chunk of the noise than you expected. As you turn to walk back to your apartment, you feel a warm, broad hand circling your elbow.
You stall, contorting your body to look back at him. “Lucien, what—“
“Hey. Are you okay?” he questions.
“No, I said I’m fucking tired and I have work tomorrow…” you reiterate, looking down at where his hand currently connects to your body.
His grip loosens and he lets his hand fall away from your elbow.
“No, I mean, from earlier. The man… who was pawing at you like some horny dog,” he explains, recounting the events that you would care to forget. “Are you okay?” he repeats, gaze softening, fluffy curls framing his face.
Your heart races at the sight of him, and you swallow down the rising lump in your throat.
No. No, you are not going to get involved with your drug dealing neighbor. Stop it.
“Oh,” you say quietly. “I’m, uh, fine. Thanks… thank you.” You offer a faint smile, suddenly flustered.
He nods, plush lips parted in thought, brow furrowed as he studies you. Those eyes of his are goddamn entrancing.
“Here,” he says, placing his palm against the small of your back as he gingerly directs you back to your apartment, halting in front of your door.
He fishes a freshly rolled joint and lighter from the breast pocket of his shirt, holding both items up so you can see. The light overhead catches the chain around his neck, reflecting it, making it shimmer.
“Girl Scout Cookies,” he explains, his voice low and hypnotic as he gives the joint a heady whiff, “So you can sleep.”
“Or… you could just turn off the music and ask everyone to leave instead,” you suggest, plucking the joint and lighter from his fingers anyway.
“They’ll drift out little by little the rest of the evening,” he counters, watching you ignite the joint and take a hit, holding the smoke in your lungs. “Most of them have left already.”
You roll your eyes and shake your head, snorting. Take a second hit. Pass it back to Lucien, whose callused fingers brush yours as he takes it.
“Your girlfriend didn’t seem too keen on leaving,” you point out.
“She isn’t my girlfriend.”
“Okay, girl you want to fuck,” you correct.
He takes a long, slow draw of the joint, exhaling the plume through rounded lips as he watches you. “Isn’t that, either.”
“Oh, so she was grabbing your dick for no reason, then?” you retort, arching a brow.
Lucien takes another hit, forming his lips into an ‘O’ as he blows the smoke gently in your direction. He scrunches his lips up in thought.
“Precisely. Wasn’t even that hard,” he explains.
You choke out a small laugh, leaning against the wall. “Jesus, Lucien.” You open your door to go back into your apartment, alone. “Thanks for the weed.”
“You brought her up, not me.” He grins.
“Goodnight…” you say firmly, trying not to let your vision linger on his lips. Or his puppy dog eyes. Or that goddamn gold chain. Fuck.
“Wait,” he murmurs, reaching for your arm again. Warm, thick fingers brushing your skin.
“What?”
He takes another pull from the joint, trapping the smoke in his lungs as he moves languidly into your space. Free hand cupping your cheek, a smirk tugging at the edges of his lips, he hovers over you, mouth nearly touching yours.
Your lips part instinctively, causing his smirk to widen even more as he exhales the cloud directly into your mouth, your lips briefly making contact. You take in a deep, heady breath, tasting the smoke, tasting the essence of him.
The small point of contact is enough ignition for both of you to act. It was the catalyst needed to convince yourself yes, yes you ARE going to let yourself get involved with him, reputation be damned.
His hand travels from your cheek to your hip, squeezing, smirk transforming into a grin as he guides you backwards through the mouth of your apartment.
And you let him. You’ve been nursing this unhealthy crush on your neighbor for long enough, you realize.
Your own hands find the collar of his shirt, and then his chain, wrapping the metal heated by his skin around your knuckles, dragging him into you. He smells like weed and clove cigarettes, like cheap red wine and musky cologne.
You aren’t sure who closes the door, but somehow, it closes with a bang behind you, and he spins your body, wedging you between himself and the hard surface, his hand unmoving from your hip as he bends to thrust his pelvis flush against yours, grinding his hard length against your center. Even through the robe, it’s unmistakable.
“Thought you said you weren’t very hard,” you tease.
“Wasn’t…” he replies with a wry smile, grinding into you, hand moving back up to your neck as his lips crash into yours.
He deposits the still smoldering joint in the small metal bowl by your door where you keep change for laundry, hands bracketing either side of your face, pressing himself firmly against you as his tongue slips into the hot cavern of your mouth, eliciting a small mewl of longing and desire from your lungs.
He tugs at the binds of your robe, the material falling open like the wings of a butterfly for him, revealing your bare legs, your soft cotton panties with the little cherries.
“Well, well…” he groans, palms locking onto your hips, thumbs moving in semicircles along your silken flesh as his fingers flirt with the elastic band of your underwear, snapping it against your hip bones.
He dips to grind his erection against you again, and this time, without the barrier of your robe dampening his motions, you feel his hard cock dragging over the sensitive nub of your clit, your hips bucking back with equal fervor.
He kisses along your jawbone, down to the sensitive apex of your jaw and column of your neck, mustache and beard gently scrubbing at your skin, his lips grazing over the shell of your ear.
“Only reason I was hard at all is because I was thinking about you,” he whispers, before taking your earlobe between his teeth and giving it a slight tug.
“Bullshit,” you scoff, breathless, and although you can’t see it, he grins, giving the elastic another harsh snap before his thumbs hook around the material, sliding them down your legs, cool air licking at your exposed folds.
“I don’t bullshit,” he grates, lowering to his knees in front of you, kneading your upper thighs in his hands as he takes in the vision that is you.
Slick dribbles down your inner thigh as he spreads you open and admires you, everything about you.
“Look at you, opening up like a pretty little flower for me,” he groans, leaning forward to swipe his angular nose through your soaked folds, inhaling the intoxicating scent of your arousal.
A small chirp escapes the back of your throat, fingers sinking into his dark curls for balance as his tongue flicks out to taste and tease you, lifting one of your legs to toss over his shoulder.
His tongue breaches your entrance, penetrating you deeply, your body juddering with every broad stroke of his tongue inside your walls.
“Fuck, Lucien…” you purr. He hums in approval, hands sliding up your backside to cup and massage your ass as he drinks of you.
You find yourself gyrating against him, your body chasing the sensation of his mouth, and not only does he let you, he furthers it along, fingers digging into the meat of your ass as he pulls you into him repeatedly, groaning.
Your fingers tangle in his hair, protesting the loss of his mouth on you as he pulls away for a beat, the feeling only short lived when his lips circle and tenderly suction around your engorged clit, two of his fingers sinking into your fluttering hole.
The resulting squelch as he fucks into you with his fingers is lascivious and loud, your spine forming a perfect arc against the door.
His fingers curl inside of your tunnel, making contact with the soft, spongy flesh at the mouth of your womb, each thrust getting you closer and closer to seeing stars.
“God, oh my fucking god…” you moan.
Your walls begin to tighten, your hips shaking, fingers twisting against his scalp as you feel your pleasure mounting. And you swear you see his lips hook into a grin as he gets you there, the sight of it with his nose and curls, the way the silk and gold chain catch the light, only spurring your pleasure on. It’s all so much. So much and not enough.
“I, fuck, I’m gonna cum…” you sob as the sensations reach a head and the feeling consumes every fiber of your being, your vision going white as your head lolls against the door with a faint thud, hips rutting forward to chase his mouth.
He rides you through it, growling into your core almost as though he’s enjoying it as much as you are, the reverberations making you crave more.
He pulls away from you when your body calms down, mouth coated in a sheen of your slick, hair stamped down with sweat from where your palms had gripped onto him.
Catching his breath as he stands, his lips and tongue tangle with yours once more, letting you taste the evidence of your release before dragging you toward the bedroom.
You can feel the cannabis coursing through your system now, relaxing you, making you feel lighter than air. You smile to yourself, knowing your orgasm is going to be sweet and lingering.
“You would look beautiful by my side at every party,” he says, brown eyes twinkling back at you, head tilted.
“You have plenty of other women for that…” you reply, letting him guide you to the bed as he slips your shirt over your head, revealing your naked breasts to his hungry gaze.
“And none of them are you,” he tuts, “None of them are as beautiful as you… as this.”
He doesn’t give you time to respond as he pushes you down into the mattress and crawls over you, teeth dragging along your shoulder, your collarbone, upper body propped on an elbow while the opposite hand kneads one of your breasts. He plucks the nipple to a sharp peak between his fingers, making you arch and moan.
He sheds his shirt and pants nearly in tandem, your vision settling on him as he slithers out of his underwear, a girthy, uncut cock between his legs, twitching at the sight of you.
“Fuck…” you gasp, his eyes shining in amusement as he manipulates you onto your back, pushing your legs apart and taking up residence between your thighs.
“I bet you feel as good as you taste,” he groans and kisses you again, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth.
Fisting himself at the base of his cock, he teases it along your folds, gathering your slick, nudging your still swollen clit. Your breath is ragged and unsteady in your chest, every motion of his body leaving you wanton and desirous.
“Lucien, please,” you plead and he chuckles, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles.
“Need it that bad?” he asks, bemused, dragging the head of his cock over your clit again, making you cant your hips, chasing the sensation.
“That must be a yes,” he purrs, his voice low and velvet.
He lines himself up at your entrance, giving a few short, preliminary thrusts with just the head, teasing and testing how ready you are to take him, before pushing himself further in, inch by inch.
After a few more precursory thrusts, he bottoms out with a long exhale and faint moan, lower lip taut and jutting outward, holding himself within your walls for several seconds, before pulling almost all the way out to slide back in again, slowly. Oh so slowly.
You grunt and arch your spine, your hips lifting to meet his, needing him to move faster…harder.
“Come onnnn,” you groan.
A smirk forms on his lips as he cages your head in with his upper arms, lips finding your throat, whispering against your pebbled skin.
“Always knew you’d be cock hungry, baby.”
He doesn’t allow you a chance to recant, pulling himself partially out and then slamming himself in again as hard as he can, teeth grazing your tender skin, gold chain smacking you in the face with the momentum of it.
He doesn’t seem to notice or care. Not that you mind much, either.
You whimper and paw at his shoulders, clinging to him, still needing, desiring more.
“Yeah? You liked that, didn’t you?” he whispers again, slamming into you hard a few more times for emphasis, making you keen, your bed smacking the wall harder each time.
“Need you to go faster, please,” you whine.
“Alright, baby. Since you’re asking so nicely…”
He leans back now, settling his weight against his calves as he lifts your legs to rest against his vast shoulders, tan skin shiny with perspiration. His dark curls are skewed and clinging to his face, dark brown eyes glistening with lust.
He looks so goddamn hot like that.
He doesn’t waste anymore time, fingertips digging into the meat of your calf muscles as he begins railing you with everything he has to give, the sounds of skin smacking skin filling the room, shaking the bed with impact.
He’s more than focused now, teeth exposed, brow furrowed, droplets of sweat pooling in the little divot of his collarbone. You wish he was closer so you could lave at the sweat collected there.
It isn’t long before you start to feel the familiar, telltale tightening in your lower abdomen again, your breath hitching in your chest, droplets of perspiration forming at your hairline.
“Yes! Yes! Don’t slow down! Don’tslowdooooown!” you cry, your hands reaching for his, where they grip your legs, fingers curling like talons around his digits.
Everything about you, from the top of your head to the tips of your toes, feels as if you’re floating.
A few more rough slams of his hips against yours and you’re seeing stars, head falling back against the pillow with a cry as your walls flutter around him, strangling his cock, sucking him deeper. He growls, his breath hissing through clenched teeth, and you know he’s almost there as well.
“Fuck, I’m gonna… fffuuuu—“ Lucien grunts, sucking in lungfuls of air as he pulls out of you at the last possible second, perched on his knees, pumping himself in his fist with your slick.
The squelchy wet noises of Lucien beating himself off fills your ears, and he emits a loud, guttural groan as he reaches completion, tendrils of seed spurting thick and hot across your stomach, some of it collecting in your navel.
“Open up,” he instructs, and you hardly have time to gather your thoughts and bearings before you feel his tongue gliding across your stomach, scooping himself onto his tongue.
His mouth hovers over yours as your lips part, Lucien spitting the cocktail of saliva and cum onto your waiting tongue, his own tongue meeting yours as he kisses you deeply, moans getting lost in your throats.
“Fuuuck,” you sigh when your lips eventually pull apart.
You both settle on your backs, shoulder to shoulder, still catching your breaths. You stare up at the ceiling, your head still light as air and swimmy.
The party continues on down the hall sans Lucien, but it’s quieter now, more subdued.
“I’m definitely going to sleep really well after that, but I may call in to work tomorrow anyway,” you giggle.
“Good, because I’m not done with you yet,” he says, eyes shining with mischief as his hand trails down your body, fingers swirling through the remnants left on your stomach.
“But all those strangers in your apartment. Are you not worried?” you ask.
“I have someone watching it for me. It’s okay.”
His lips tease along your neck. “You’re like a goddamn drug, baby.”
You don’t even question it further, smirking as his fingers lift to your lips, painting them like gloss, laughing inwardly to yourself when you realize that the girl in the hallway doesn’t get to have him like this, like you do, as he dips his head to kiss you again.
—
fin. xx.
#lucien flores#lucien flores x reader#lucien flores x you#lucien flores x f!reader#pedro pascal#writing#fanfic#smut#pedro fanfic#romance#author
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“Sweet crazy girl” | Joel Miller
tags: Post-Outbreak, Jackson. A lot of fluff. Coffe Coffe Coffe.
a note from pris: a little short because i writed this last night wathing gilmore girls. In my mind, is a perfect scene in Jackson. Enjoy baby girls!
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
The cool breeze blew in through the half-open bedroom window, causing the air to send a slight shiver through my body. I sighed happily, finally autumn had arrived.
Instantly, the alarm clocks began to chime marking 7 o'clock.
-You ‘re hilarious! -I threw off the covers and walked out of the room and down the stairs.
-Look, when I told you last night "tomorrow, no matter what happens, try to wake me up at 7:00", what I really meant was "tomorrow, no matter what happens, try to give me the option of waking up at 7:00, just in case I don't want to do it". Which, in the end, was the case.
-Did you break the alarm clocks, darlin'? —he said, raising an eyebrow as he prepared breakfast.
-Very funny, cowboy —I kissed his cheek. I grabbed the pot of coffee and sniffed it, stopping short.-It's decaf.
-What are you talking about? —he looks disinterested.
-You came back to change my coffee.
-I'm a busy man, baby. I don't have time to change your coffee on the sly, I have to work construction and patrols —I began to search the kitchen with him at my back. My sense of smell never failed.
-Will you stop doing that?
-Ha! —I pulled the bag under the sink and watched as Joel raised both arms and covered his head.-Very clever, mister, but not clever enough.
-All right, you know what? I give up —I smell the inside of the bag as I turn on the coffee pot.
-Nop, you don't give up —I laughed victoriously, jumping up and down, then put my hands on his face and joined our lips in a kiss. I slid my right hand to the buttons of his shirt to touch his strong chest and start distributing kisses on his neck.
-Please,baby, don't do that. You know I have to go to work —he placed his warm hand under my nightgown sending a shock down my spine. I pouted my lips a little.
-Do you have to go? —he nodded and tucked my hair behind my ear, then turned and handed me a plate of fruit and blueberry pancakes.
-My strong big man, always feeding me.
-You're welcome, darlin'. You're awake, you've got food. I'm leaving, but I'll try to be back early. Do you want me to get you anything?
-Mmm, maybe a chocolate with almonds, a Vogue magazine, some chips and cheese...
He silences me by kissing me, making the outside cease to exist and the desire to stay stronger.
-Goodbye, sweet crazy girl —then he put his hand on my hip and kissed my bulging stomach.-Goodbye to you too, little princess.
-How do you know it's a girl?
-Intuition, darlin'.
-Ellie is begging all the time for a boy.
-Well, she’s wrong, because i say so.
-Por dios, you're a daddy's girl —i coiffed his salt-and-pepper hair strands.-Have a nice day. I love you, my big old softie man.
-I love you too, sweet girl.
#joel miller x original character#joel miller x reader#joel fluff#joel smut#joel fanfic#joel x reader#joel the last of us#joel x plus size reader#joel x f!reader#joel x female reader#joel miller x pregnant reader#joel miller x plus size reader#joel tlou#joel and ellie#joel miller x wife!reader#pedro fanfic#pedro x reader#joel miller#joel x oc#pedrostories#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#sweet crazy girl#xmissrogersx
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ruin | Pedro Pascal
| pairing. pedro pascal x reader
It's supposed to be perfect. Everything is meant to be perfect. It's a well-thought-out plan that is thoroughly prepared for months when he's away for shooting. This was supposed to make up for his shortcomings. To show that he's sorry for being an absent prick and that he loves you. He loves you more than everything, even more than life itself. But why can't he do it? Why can't he make everything right? Why can't he just be deserving of your lo—
A powerful thunderstorm flashes across the night sky, whisking Pedro away from the loud voices in his head. Blinking a few times, Pedro shook his head to scan his surroundings and realized he was in the car with you in the passenger seat, who was staring at him worriedly.
Ah... now he remembers.
This was your supposed getaway, to make up for you, to make up for his absence during your anniversary. You were meant to go to the beach house he rented for two weeks. But instead of being in bed with you in his arms, enjoying the peace and quiet. The two of you are stranded in a fucking stupid car in the middle of nowhere with fucking rain pouring harder by the second.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Pedro screamed releasing his frustration as he repeatedly banged his palm on the steering wheel.
A hand the brush in his arm trying to calm him down, "Hey, babe, P, it will be alright—"
Pedro shook his head, "but it's not! it's not fucking alright!" This time he leaned on the steering wheel, and with eyes closed, he dropped his head with a thump.
Why can't he do anything right? Thump.
Why is he so messed up? Thump.
Why is he so messed up? Thump.
A hand was placed on his cheek, preventing him from banging his head even further, and he was slowly dragged away from the steering wheel, facing the owner.
Pedro's rage was quickly wiped away by guilt as he stared at you. He felt worthless. Breaking the eye contact he whispered, "I'm sorry" repeatedly.
Your heartache hearing that, "Hey, hey, it's not your fault." stroking his cheeks with both of your hands.
"But it is. It is. It is supposed to be great, perfect even. Just the two of us having peace for once, but here we are stuck in the middle of a storm because of this stupid car, and it's all my fault!"
Sigh, you despise it when Pedro acts this way, blaming himself for things that aren't his fault. "Hey, don't say that."
When he is about to open his mouth to argue, you shush him, putting your thumb into his lips.
"Look at me.", when he didn't move, you pleaded "Please."
“It's not your fault”, you say while looking into each other's eyes and caressing your thumb in his cheeks.
It took a moment of silence and staring before Pedro sighed "Alright, alright... I'm sorry I went mental."
"You are always mental," you chuckle, attempting to help him loosen up, which works as he lets out a loud laugh.
"Also I got news, I received a text from the nearby repair shop they said they'll be on their way but it might take some time because of how hard the rain is pouring. So, while we wait for a bit we can do something fun!"
Pedro looks at you as if you've gone insane. "Yeah, let's have fun here inside of a car that is stuck in the middle of nowhere."
You laughed as you listened to him rant on. He's such a drama queen no wonder being an actor does suit him, you said to yourself.
In the middle of his outburst, your attention was drawn outside. You always love the rain.
It always makes you feel comfortable and at ease, and it's probably the reason you're staying cool in this situation. But what you love the most is the feeling of the continuous splatter of the rain in your skin. It washes your worries, problems, and pain to the ground until you become free from them.
So, without thinking or caring about the person next to you, you open the door and walk outside. The world becomes silent as you feel the rain connect to you.
You spin around with your arms extended. You laugh as you enjoy the cool breeze of the rain. Returning your gaze to the car, you proceed to the driver's door, where the window has been rolled down.
"Come out, it's fun!" you called Pedro.
"You should be the one coming inside! God y/n you'll get sick!"
Rolling your eyes from his response, you open the door, startling Pedro from inside "Are you crazy! You will get everything here wet! "
Such a princess, you told to yourself. Grabbing him in the arm you drag him out of the car ignoring his protest.
"y/n, I'm fucking wet! Stop laughing!" Pedro groans making you laugh even harder as you swirl in the rain.
Staring at you looking carefree and not bothered about the current situation, Pedro can't help but feel his heart race. It always makes him wonder and a bit jealous of how you can still be optimistic when the world already crashing down.
Then you surprised him one more when you bowed down and offered your hand to him like a gentleman. "Shouldn't I be the one doing that?" Pedro raised his eyebrows.
"Well, my dear, the world is changing," amused by his question. "So would you sir allow me to dance you in the rain."
Pedro looks at you for a few seconds before he sighs in defeat. Placing his hand on your palm, you put your hand on his shoulder, while his others placed on your waist, and the two of you waltz in the lost in your own world that’s filled with love and laughter.
Maybe everything is not ruined at all.
#pedro pascal x reader#pedro x reader#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x y/n#pedro fanfic#ones#light angst#fluff
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CHAPTER 2
status: ongoing
pairing: joel miller x f!reader
summary: your life is full of 'must'. You live with your overprotective mother who controls every aspect of your life. You have a dream, to write romance novels, but love - real love - you haven't found yet. Your mother has even decided what you must do in your free time: play music. One day, however, when you go to your music teacher's house, you will have an unexpected encounter and from that day on things change…
rating: 18+ explicit (minors, DNI)
Masterlist
Before to start... please remember English is not my first language, so please be kind.
If you like or you want to reblog and/or leave a comment I'd appreciate 🥹
If you don't like my story, don't be rude and go away ✌🏻
Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner
There are two ways this story could have gone-if it was a story heard in the bar-either the protagonist turns her back on the mysterious and charming man or she gives him a chance, even though she feels she shouldn't.
You decide to look into his face and see a strange light in his eyes, very reminiscent of that magnetic, mysterious light that Tommy emanates. That light you've never been able to understand.
Who knows with the second Miller maybe?
What are you talking about, you don't have to understand anything at all! Tommy Miller is just your music teacher and this one in front of you is just his brother, a strange, somewhat know-it-all, cocky and unfortunately charming brother.
You don't know him.
You have only seen him for two minutes, but you already have mixed feelings.
On the one hand you want to run away, on the other you absolutely cannot avoid his gaze.
"So what have you figured out about me in less than a minute?" he challenges you with an amused air.
"You're older than Tommy, you're very confident, you're convinced you can do and say anything you want. No one will ever punish you, will they?"
You're not usually like this, you're definitely more resigned, reserved, but not with Joel Miller.
He smiles as he lowers his head and shakes it slowly, then looks back up at you.
"I like you, little girl. Tommy told me about you, but I thought you were a pretty little thing who just stood there and listened and obeyed."
Is that Tommy's idea of you?
Wait a minute, is that everyone's idea of you?
You are too focused on those words and pay no attention to the fact that he just called you, or perhaps his brother, pretty.
"Who is he now judging without even knowing me?" you chuckle at him with your chin out and crossing your arms.
He laughs, it's a warm laugh that sweeps over you, sweeps over you like a wave, like a warm gust of wind, like a ray of sunshine after weeks of rain.
Your heart loses a beat.
"I'd better go now," you say, hoping to get out of the situation that is taking on less and less clear tones.
"In a hurry to get back to your bubble?" he asks causing your heart to lose another beat.
"What bubble? What are you talking about?"
You know what he means, but what could he possibly know? You have never told Tommy anything about yourself.
Your music lessons were conducted in a specific order: you would come in, he would offer you a cup of coffee, which you promptly refused-your mother instilled too many negative thoughts in you-then Tommy would invite you to take the sheet music and finally he would take the guitar and make you strum a few chords, nothing complicated.
There was no room for any confidence either from you or from him. In fact, you had no idea whatsoever that he had a brother.
"You looked pretty sad to me when you got out of your mother's car," he replies for the first time without a trace of mockery or irony in his voice.
Your heart is pounding in your chest.
But how...?
You lower your gaze, losing that unfamiliar resourcefulness that had accompanied you until moments before.
"It's the same sadness I see in your eyes right now," he says again in a soft, calm tone.
"Let it go." you say in a whisper, lowering your gaze.
You don't want to talk about it, not with a man you barely know, you've never talked about it all the way with your friends, why should you talk about it with him? With a man much older than you who until that moment before has teased you by making you feel like a child?
He doesn't insist, thankfully, but the silence becomes harder and harder to break, and you have even more difficulty backtracking and going back to where you came from.
To that life that-even though you stubbornly deny it-becomes more limiting and narrower with each passing day.
"Do you want to come in?" he asks you in the same tone as before.
You look up and feel for the first time naked before that man; no one has ever really made you feel so helpless.
You have to run away.
"No." you reply, looking up and noticing in your tone of voice almost a trace of fright.
Before he can add anything else, you turn your back and leave. You run for the stairs, your heart in your throat.
You almost can't think.
When you are outside the building, you realize you have been holding your breath. You linger with your eyes on what to do for the remaining hour you were supposed to spend playing.
You cross the street, risking slipping on the thin layer of ice, and then head into the small bar across the street. It is a bar and you sit down in front of the counter.
"What can I get you, honey?" asks the young man. He is good-looking, with green eyes and dark hair, quite muscular.
He smiles at you.
"Um, a coffee." you reply, drumming your fingers on the counter and looking toward the doorway of the building you just came out of.
"Right away." he says, "This is not the first time I've seen you around here."
You look at him and notice that he is watching you intensely.
You remain with your mouth open.
You don't know what to say or whether to actually say anything.
You just nod.
"I don't want to look like a maniac," he clarifies, smiling at you. He has a bright smile.
"You don't look like one." you say smiling at him a little more relaxed, but not too much.
"Jack." he says holding out his hand to you. This is the second time someone has introduced himself today.
This time, unlike before, you shake the young man's hand by introducing yourself. He smiles, repeating your name.
You are not sure why you introduced yourself with him and not Joel. Not certainly because Joel is a man and Jack a young man. Age has nothing to do with it. Maybe it has to do with the fact that you are in a public place now, whereas before you were not.
You start talking about a lot of things, you find out that he is a sophomore in college, studying psychology, working there, and in his spare time volunteering. He seems to be a very interesting person.
You tell him about yourself, part of your life, the things you find most interesting about yourself, your love of writing, your passion for classical music, books, movies.
You talk about so many aspects of your life, you talk almost freewheeling. You should go back in, but maybe it is precisely because your mother is not home tonight because she is in the hospital that you don't mind being a little later and especially being with someone you think is nice and interesting.
It is almost eleven o'clock at night and Jack closes the shutter. You are both outside the club. It's cold. It looks like it's going to snow.
You shiver, clutching your shoulders, and he, with a smile, pulls off his jacket and hands you his.
"Is that better?" he asks you thoughtfully, you nod.
"Can I walk you home?" he asks you again.
Perhaps you might dare, but part of you decides it's better not to.
Jack seems to understand your intention from your gaze, he nods, gently caressing your left cheek.
"Forgive me, maybe I'm getting ahead of myself," he says, squeezing into your shoulders.
"No, no. Um, forgive me, just maybe another time."
His eyes light up "So would you like to meet again in the next few days? Maybe after you finish your music lessons?" he proposes, and you find yourself nodding with a small smile.
Jack seems like a very sweet guy, you like the way he thinks, the way he talks, you decide to give him a chance.
"See you next time, then," he says, giving you a gentle kiss on the cheek.
He is leaving, but you call him over and return his jacket, which Jack takes back with a smile, then leaves.
You have a smile on your face, see him leave, and then slowly walk home.
It's really cold.
There is a very strong wind, you huddle in your shoulders.
At some point you hear a honk not too far from you, you turn around, and at that moment the window of a dark SUV rolls down.
"Juliet, are you left alone?"
It's Joel Miller.
"Romeo's gone?"
"What do you want from me?" you ask him, crossing your arms and approaching his car.
"Nothing. I just asked you a question," he replies with a shrug.
You roll your eyes and resume walking, hearing the car walk slowly beside you.
"Was it a pleasant afternoon?" he asks you.
"Definitely better than how the evening is ending," you reply annoyed.
"Are you going to walk in the snow?"
"It's not snowing, it's just windy," you reply in an obvious tone.
"It's going to snow soon."
"Now you're in charge of the weather too? You know how to do everything!" you exclaim "Your wife will be satisfied!" you add, visibly shivering.
"Get in before you freeze to death!" he blurts out seeing you clutching yourself in your coat, you stop and look toward him "Come, I promise not to bite." he adds.
You look at the road, at the sky and then at Joel, who looks at you indecipherably, then you make up your mind: you open the door and get in.
"Here." he says slipping off his windbreaker and laying it on your shoulders in a sweet gesture of great care for you.
"Thank you." you say slipping on his jacket that is definitely big for you, then you see him turn on the hot air.
"I'll drive you home. Tell me what your address is."
You tell him your home address and he nods and puts the car in gear and drives off.
He looks at you briefly.
He does this a lot.
You don't know what to say.
"We're here." he informs you.
You make to get down immediately and launch into the house, but then you reconsider and make to return his jacket.
He shakes his head.
"Keep it. You give it back to me next time in class," he says.
"In class?" you ask still trembling.
"Don't tell me you've already forgotten your guitar lessons!" he exclaims "You really have a short memory!" he adds in what should be a serious tone, but the upturned corners of his mouth betray what was perhaps meant to be a reproach or who knows what else.
"Witty." you say "All right, then I'll see you in two days." you add in an exasperated tone as you get out of his SUV.
You are about to close the door, but then you reconsider "Thank you, you didn't have to."
"You're right, maybe I could have done like your Romeo and left you out in the cold, but I didn't have the courage."
"Whatever the reason was," you say, "thank you, obnoxious." you add, closing the door, as you close the door to your building an asshole escapes your lips.
It will be hard to have a teacher like him.
#joel Miller#joel tlou#joel miller smut#joel fic#joel x reader#joel the last of us#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfic#joel miller fanfiction#pedro fanfic#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal as joel miller#pedrostories#pedruniverse#pedro pascal#bittersweet ff#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller hbo#tlou fanfiction#tlou fic#the last of us#smut#dom!joel miller#dom!joel#joel miller fic#joel miller angst
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The MET
Pairing: Pedro x reader.
Summary: You’re Pedro’s +1 to the MET.
Series warnings: 18+ Minors do not interact. This is for mature audience only. By continuing reading you hereby agree that you are ver 18. Fiction, smut, explitit smut, no use of Y/N.
Words: 2962
As you get out of the car you’re mindful to grab the hem of your dress to make sure it won't ride up too high, not wanting to give the paps the money shot.
Your dress might have been a smidge too short, just reaching to your midthigh, but with what you had in mind it was just perfect and the red color matched perfectly your red soled pumps and crisp white clutch and with the Valentino outfit Pedro was wearing.
He looks positively mouthwatering, and with the hair slicked back, it had been an easy decision when you got dressed. He would notice soon enough, if only he would put his hand on your hip already he would notice you didn’t have any panties on.
Not that the tight dress would look good with panties anyway. And then, he puts his hands on your back between your shoulder blades as he ushers you forward, slowly his hand starts to glide down. A shiver of anticipation runs through you.
“Are you cold cariño?” he asks as he leans in closer, his lips almost grazing your ear, making you shiver again.
“No, just a little nervous about stepping onto that carpet with you” you answer honestly in a low voice and you don’t dare to look up at him. One look from this man now and you’d push him back into the car and have your way with him right now. But that was not the plan.
“You’ll be great, you look drop dead gorgeous, but I’ve told you that already” he says and you can hear the smirk that’s definitely playing on his lips.
He keeps his hand on your back as you walk inside and flashes goes off like crazy. Not a surprise though, this was the first time you were seen out at an official event the whole place felt like it was buzzing and bright as fuck. Again, not a surprise, everyone who's anyone is here tonight, and you. Not that you’re anyone, you’re just here as Pedro’s +1.
But the look he is giving you as his hand descends down your back to land on your hip you can feel him freeze next to you. You look up at him from under your lashes and the look in his eyes is undoubtedly a mix of shock and amazement. His hand rubs up and down your hip a few times as if to ascertain that he is indeed feeling what he believes he is feeling. And that is nothing, no line where your panties should have been under that dress. His eyes burn into yours as he leans in,
“Are you fucking kidding me?” his breath blows onto your face and a soft whimper escapes from your lips. His voice drips with desire as his eyes now roam over your body.
“I’m not sure what you mean” you reply coyly, feigning surprise but the way his eyes darken, he knows you know what he means.
“You little devil, trying to turn me on more than I already am?” he whispers as his hand grips tightly on your hip.
“You’re the one who always says my panties are just in your way” you say as you turn to look at the sea of photographers snapping picture after picture of the two of you. For a moment you second guess your decision to go commando cus right now , with all these cameras pointed at you, you almost feel naked. If it hadn’t been for Pedro by your side, you would have run out the door long ago.
“Fuck me, you’re gonna be the death of me I swear” he replies, his voice husky with lust as he wills himself to look away from you to satiate the photographers with a few more pictures before he starts to walk with you up the stairs as you grasp your clutch sighter in your hands.
He has one interview to do but that’s done and over with rather quickly. He has other things on his mind and can’t be bothered with staying for the interview longer than necessary.
When the interview is done he ushers you into the room where the cocktail hour is held while the rest of the celebrities arrive. Pedro hands you a champagne flute and you sip it slowly. No need to add too much alcohol to your already buzzing nerves.
He’s standing close to you, closer than necessary probably, but you don’t mind. He is just being overprotective since this is your first time at this kind of thing together. And you can’t help but to feel a bit out of place.
He turns to say something just as someone calls out his name behind you.
“Pedro Pascal has gone and got himself a girlfriend, as I live and breathe, hell must have frozen over then,” the voice booms from behind the both of you. Pedro has to let go of your waist as he turns around and you turn too.
“Bradley! Good to see you too man” Pedro hugs Bradley quickly before turning to you and introducing you to each other.
“Wow! You’re absolutely gorgeous, pleasure to meet you. Pedro, where did you find this stunning woman?” he asks with a smile directed towards you. You know who he is. how could you not, he’s Bradley Cooper, big movie star and Hollywood hunk. You can agree with the general population, he is good looking but no one compares to Pedro in your opinion, but then you’re probably considered biased.
“Nice to meet you too” you say as you shake hands with Bradley. His hand lingers in your a bit too long for your liking and Pedro’s too.
Pedros arm wraps possessively around your waist, not that you mind, you like this side of him. It’s not often you get to see him get a bit jealous, not that there’s anything to be jealous about but still.
“Knock that off, she’s mine” he says with a chuckle but you can tell he’s being serious. That neck vein starts to protrude a bit more than with each passing moment.
“Okay, I get it man, it’s not like she has eyes for anyone else anyway with the way she’s looking at you” Bradley says as he puts his hand on Pedros shoulder and gives him a pat and walks away. Pedro turns to look at you and sees you’re already staring at him.
“That was not very kind of you babe” you say and try to sound more serious than you actually manage to sound. It’s just too hot, him being jealous.
“Let's go see some of the exhibitions” he says with a smirk on his lips as he leads you out of the room, his arm still wrapped tightly around your waist.
He walks you over to the ancient Egyptian art exhibition and as you walk around looking at all the old artifacts you can feel his eyes on you. Lingering. Heat starts to creep up your neck.
There’s a few other people around but all he can look at is you. He doesn’t even look at the exhibition. You do though. Trying your best to distract yourself from his gaze and the heat that’s started to pool at your core.
As the other people start to leave the exhibition Pedro keeps moving closer to you and finally he’s right behind you as you stand looking at an old statue of what according to the information, is an fertility statue dating back to ca 1938-1960 B.C.E.
But once Pedros hands land on your hips your mind goes blank and you can’t remember what else was written on there. His hands skimming up and down your sides, sending waves of delightful tingles through your body.
“I need you” he whispers with a heavy breath into your ear, his lips nibbling it gently. Making you sigh and lean into his broad chest as a soft moan slips out from your mouth.
“We’re not exactly at home, behind closed doors. There’s people everywhere, what if someone catches us?” you ask but can’t really put any weight into the words because the throbbing ache between your thighs is starting to become too much.
You try to calm it by pressing your thighs together but that seems to have the opposite effect. One of his hands slides lower down to the hem of your dress and up under, sliding higher up until it reaches your sex.
“Fuck baby, your drippin’, this all for me?” he asks as one finger slips between your folds feeling how wet you are.
“Yes, always for you” you say breathlessly as one of his fingers dips into you. Pulling a soft low moan from you, and then he adds another finger and your breath hitches.
“You’re going to have to keep real quiet or I won’t get invited back here again” he says with a chuckle as he starts to move his fingers in and out of you. It’s almost deafening, the sound of his fingers moving in and out of your wet folds, but you don’t care, not when his fingers keep nudging that oh so sweet spot inside which you never seem to be able to reach with your own fingers.
Heavy breaths fill the air as you both start to breath quicker, you can already feel the familiar tug inside. His thumb finds your clit and starts to circle it as he continues to pump his thick fingers into you. Your head falls back to rest on his shoulder as he pumps faster.
“I need you to cum for me cariño, cum for me and then I’ll fuck you. Quick and hard cus we need to get back before the dinner starts” he breathes into your ear.
With a few more thrusts of his fingers, you cum hard, all over his hand. His fingers keep going in and out of you, riding out your high with you. And when your breath starts to settle he grunts behind you as he slips his fingers out of you and you turn around just as he brings his hand up to his lips to lick your slick of his fingers. It’s positively filthy and so fucking sexy, you grab him by his tie and pull him closer.
Your lips crash against his in a heated kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue, teeth gnashing and tongues battling for domination. Your hands let go of his tie and descend down his chest, marveling at how his muscles tense under your touch.
You purr as one of his hands comes to grip your waist and the other snakes its way up to tangle into your hair, probably messing up the curls as he does but who cares. You lean into his touch and your breath quickens again. Your hands greedily skim down towards his shorts to unbutton his them, but you don’t unzip them.
Not wanting them to fall and pool at his feet if someone were to enter the room you’d want him to be able to cover up quickly.
“Te voy a comer rico” (I’m going to fuck you so deliciously) he says and groan just as you reach into his pants to pull out his hard aching cock.
“Cómeme, papi” (fuck me daddy) you say staring into his eyes, he groans as your hand pumps up and down his member.
One of his hands reaches down to grab at your leg and wrap it around his hip as you position his cock at your entrance. His eyes look into yours as he slips himself inside. Your walls put up little to no resistance, because you’re so wet, dripping from walking around without underwear and from the delicious orgasm he gave you just moments ago. And then he starts to thrust.
Hard and deep. The hand in your hair pulls you closer to him in a heated kiss as he pistons himself into you. His pace is almost frenzied. He hitches your leg up a little bit higher and with a slight shift in the angle he thrusts into you he reaches that soft spot deep inside. That spot that makes your legs shake and your mind go blank. Nothing else matters at this moment. Not that you’re at the MET and this is not appropriate.
Not that anyone could come in at any moment, and even though you were standing around a corner somewhat concealed, the sounds would be unmistakable. The sound of skin slapping against skin, the squelching sounds of his cock sliding in and out of your wet pussy. But that didn’t matter. All that matters is the way he moves and the way he makes you feel. Your body begins to tremble and you feel your body tense, you can feel it. The rush of sensations floods your senses as your second orgasm hits you with full force.
A cry of pleasure about to escape your lips so you bite down on his shirt clad shoulder to keep yourself quiet. Your walls flutter around his cock with each wave as the orgasm rips through you. You feel him slow his pace down but not the force in each thrust. Still pounding into you at a deliciously hard rhythm. But then his moves falters a little and you can tell he’s getting close.
“Tan apretada” (so tight) he grits through his teeth.
“Fuck, i love it when you speak Spanish babe” you reply when you’re finally able to speak again. His thrusts become more sloppy and he twitches inside of you.
“Where?” he asks and you don’t need more than that to understand what he means. Preferably you’d like it inside, feel him painting your insides. But since you don’t have any panties that won’t work, you’d have his cum running down your legs in no time and that is not something that is appropriate for this evening.
Not that having sex in one of the exhibitions was either but that’s not the point. Instead of answering him, you unwrap your leg from him and try to steady yourself as you slip him out from your pussy, whining low at the loss of his cock inside of you as he too lets out a sound of disappointment. And you give him a devilish smile as you sink to your knees, and lean forward to take his cock into your mouth.
He moans loudly, too loud. You look up at him and try to shush him, but with your mouth full the only effect it has is him moaning louder. The vibrations from you trying to shush him sends delicious vibrations through his cock. You move your head back and forth as you take him deeper and deeper each time, almost touching the back of your throat.
Your eyes start to water a littler and your lipstick is getting smeared all over his cock and probably all around your mouth too, but you don’t care. Your sole focus now is to make it good for him, like he did for you. You hollow out your cheeks as you take him as deep as you possibly can.
His hands grab a hold of your hair and he guides your head over his cock. You drag your tongue along the vein on the underside and he twitches inside your mouth and unintentionally he pushes your head down on him a little hard and you choke. He immediately lets up and begins to pull back but you grab his ass and pull him in again. You’re not done, not until he comes undone.
Your head bobs up and down his cock faster and you suck harder and as you drag your teeth gently along his shaft, that’s what sends him over the edge. He comes hard into your mouth, ropes after ropes of his cum shoots down your throat and you swallow it all and lick his cock clean as he slides out of your mouth.
Licking your lips he helps you tug the dress back down as you stand up again, he drags his thumb across your lips to wipe away the last remnants of his cum on your chin and you open your mouth as he puts his thumb on your tongue and you lick it clean. He eyes you doing that and his eyes are dark with lust.
“Don’t look at me like that” you say as he slides his thumb out of your mouth.
“How am I looking at you?” he questions with a sly smirk.
“Like you’re about to devour me” you reply as you can feel heat pooling inside you again. Never satiated with this man. Enough is never enough.
“Oh I will. When we get home later, I will eat you until you beg me to stop” he says as he leans in to kiss your lips. His hands grab and caress anywhere they can reach.
“Soy tuya y tú eres mío, now let's get back before we miss the dinner, I’m starving” (I am yours and you are mine), you say as he tucks himself back into his pants and buttons them back up before you lace your fingers with his as you walk out of the ancient Egyptian art exhibition.
You make a quick stop at the restroom to make sure you look somewhat presentable before returning to the party. You think to yourself that you won’t be able to look at anything Egyptian the same way ever again, as you take your seat at your assigned table with a grinning Pedro at your side. This is not how you had planned this night to go, it turned out even better than you had imagined.
#the metropolitan museum of art#themet#pedro pascal#pedrofic#pedro pascal fanfiction#fanfiction#pedro fanfic#imagination running wild#my imagination#smut#fanfic
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Can’t Take My Eyes Off You
Pairing: Frankie Morales x Reader
Summary: You usually go down to the lake near you to draw and relax but this time a certain person catches your eye
Warning’s: Just fluff again with a use of Y/n! (I’m sorry if I do fluff it’s just cause I’m more comfortable just doing fluff if you understand <3)
It’s now the afternoon and it’s a wonderful summer day outside and you haven’t gone outside yet, so you decide you were gonna head down to the lake since it’s been quite cloudy out for most of the week.
So you then grab you tote bag and grab your sketchbook, drawing supplies, water, and your keys.
You then lock the door behind you and walked down the apartment stair’s down to the parking lot, you then unlocked your truck and then started to drive off to the lake.
As you parked your truck you grabbed your bag from the passenger seat and started walking down to the tree that backs onto the shore of the lake.
When you got situated you looked around and there were only few people there since it was quite late and the sun was starting to set, but as you looked to your left of the shore you see a man packing up his fishing gear. He had soft curl’s poking out of the back of his baseball cap and his eyes looked like softly melted chocolate as he glanced at you catching you staring at him.
He then let out a smile while slightly waving at you, as you were trying to say hi to look more normal about it your throat felt like your entire airway was about to collapse, you then finally said hi after stalling for a bit but it came out quite high pitched and you darted down back to your sketchbook totally humiliated.
“Y/n why would you say that you idiot, you could’ve just waved back!” You said whispering to yourself
You then decided to try and forget about it and to start back on a sketch you didn’t quite finish from last time you were here.
As you were drawing you heard jingling of a tackle box full of fishing lure’s and bait coming closer up from shore, the sound of footsteps then got louder and you then heard them stop right beside you.
“Hey, um sorry if I disturbed you I just wanted to properly introduce myself cause you look like a nice person to talk to and not a lot of people really come out here this late.” He said with a nervous laugh
“Oh ya you can call me Frankie by the way.” He said as he grazed his hand behind his neck fidgeting with his curls from being nervous to come up and talk to you
You couldn’t believe this was actually happening, you then got the confidence and started to introduce yourself
“No, no! Don’t worry about disturbing me you looked really nice and I really wanted to talk to you too actually.” You said while blushing slightly yet you didn’t know he could easily tell that you were
He then let out a chuckle of a sigh of relief that you also wanted to talk to him as he sat down next to you making your arm’s both slightly touch
“Sooo, what are you doing down here this late? Mostly I come down here since the fish are out and a ‘bout trying to find a last meal of the day as you can tell.” As he looked at his fishing gear propped on the side of the tree then looking back at you with a smile
“W-well I usually come down here to draw since it’s quiet, beautiful, and not a lot of people are that loud this late so I don’t get as distracted as I usually would and there’s a lot of inspiration around here for what to draw.” You said trying not to fumble your words from his soft arm’s that you could hold every minute of the day
He then looked down at your sketchbook tapping it while looking back up at you “Can I see, well some of your work?”
You were quite timid about showing him your work since you never think it’s good enough and that you could improve so much more.
“Know what sure, I’m not really good at it well I actually haven’t shown my work to anyone before.”
He then took the book from your hands looking up to you with a small amount of shock that you haven’t showed anyone your sketches before and that he would be the first to see them besides you. As he was taking the book from your hands he grazed his hands over yours for a bit longer then normal
“WHAT!?” He said with his eyes widened at a cityscape sketch you did
“These should be put in an art gallery, you did these all by yourself?!” He said as he looked back up to you with his mouth was slightly open with a smile of shock and his eyebrows raised
“Ya, I try to do them in my free time as much as possible to get better but it’s quite hard since I’ve so busy lately.” You said with a smile on your face from him appreciating your work
“To get better?! Nooo don’t say that, look at this you made this all by yourself you should be so proud!” He said laying his arm on your shoulder showing the sketch you did
You then looked on your shoulder and back up at him while your eyes were lost in his while blushing and your heart racing
“I-I’m sorry it’s just-”
“No, I know.” He said as he wrapped his arm behind your neck as he got closer to you with his nose touching yours with just a breath away from each others lips
You both then get lost in both of your eyes as he then leans in closer until both of your lips connected
Never in a million year’s you would’ve thought this would ever happen, but here we are. The feeling of his lips were as soft as feathers, and his hands were as soft as the dandelions that were surrounding the both of you
He didn’t break the connection until you did just to see his eyes again with the feeling of tingling going up your spine
As you were looking into his eyes he then slid his hand from behind your neck to caress your jawline as he smiled
“Meet here 8:00 pm tomorrow on the dot.” He said as he whispered it into your ear, he then leaned back from your ear a bit to give you one last kiss on your velvet soft cheek before grabbing his stuff to leave
Thank you for reading this! please check out my other fic’s if you would like! Like’s, comment’s, and maybe a follow are appreciated!(NOT FORCING) I will try to post fic’s every two day’s! <333
#pedro pascal#jose pedro balmaceda pascal#frankie morales#frankie morales x reader#triple frontier fanfic#frankie catfish morales#francisco morales#triple frontier#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal edit#pedrohub#frankie morales fluff#frankie morales fanfiction#frankie morales fic#pedro pascal triple frontier#Pedro pascal trending#trending#fanfiction#fanfic#pedro fanfic
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Two of many pedro fanarts ive done in the past couple weeks since posting, all unfinished, these are barely finished. I love the nose on pedro on the right. Thanks for the support and love for my last two 🩵
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#pedro fanfic#fanart#javier peña#joel miller x reader#zaddy pedro#i love pedro pascal#mrshis
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Chapter Three
Rating: 18+
Characters: Agent Whiskey x Reader X Ezra
This is a sequel to the MIDNIGHT Series
Rated TV MA. Heavy trigger warning.
Note: I’m gonna do a continuity check soon and hopefully fix errors if there are any I know I have been away from this story for a while so its possible I forgot some.
Tag List: @just-here-for-the-moment @sherala007 @jediknight122 @pintsizemama @kenbechillin @elegantduckturtle @hearttbreak @tintinn16 @showbuckysomelove @somenerdyuser @kesskirata @littlemisspascal @athalien @spideysimpossiblegirl @littlemisspascal @sheresh0y @pjkimrn @i-ship-it-ironically @fictitious-little-stitious @curiouskeyboard @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @murdersheghostwrote @fictitious-little-stitious Permanent Tag List: @voteforpedro09 @greeneyedblondie44 @feel-it-on-the-way-home13 @galaxyofmando @kravitzwhore @solemnlyswearss @gooddaykate @sherala007 @aliwritesfic @athalien
As soon as the sun dipped over the horizon, the earth cooled enough to allow life to foster again. Cicadas sang in the twilight- for the lightning bugs who fluttered about, performing their dance low in the grass surrounding oak trees.
Jack drove with the windows down, static on the radio of a station that faded out of range about twenty miles back. He hadn’t even noticed. Work was putting him through the wringer and he welcomed the silence the drive provided.
He pulled up to your house, remembering it from the day before, and hopped out then went over to the bed of the truck to retrieve a cardboard box and a body pillow, which he slung over his shoulder.
Your house didn’t have any curtains or neighboring buildings, just flatland and mountains in the back, whoever owned the unit under you didn't seem to be there. If you squinted it almost looked like a lighthouse standing silently on the edge of a calm ocean.
As he ascended the set of steps he could see you clearly, your hair tied up, pajama pants and t-shirt shirt on. You were sitting cross-legged on the bare floor with a plate of mostly untouched food in front of you, watching a tv also set on the floor.
Jack was suddenly reminded of the nights the two of you spent at the kitchen table during your first pregnancy. It would take you an hour to finish the measly little meal on your plate, but he sat with you the whole time, watching whatever series the two of you picked to binge.
Yeah, that one hurt.
Suddenly he felt like a creep, staring at you through your windows….he had lost access to your privacy the night he made his decision. He had to respect that.
Jack cleared his throat and rang the bell, looking at his shoes as you got up from the floor and opened the door.
“Hey,” you said, stepping to the side to allow him in.
“Y/N” Jack greeted as he passed. He set the box and pillow down on the kitchen counter.
His arrival was no surprise, you asked him to bring this stuff over. In the box there were a few things the two of you had bought for the nursery you never got to use, it had been collecting dust in the attic for over a year…
Jack took his hat off and placed it on the counter, putting his hands on his hips and nodding as he looked around. He was astounded by the sheer lack of stuff. There were two small boxes in the corner and yes the TV….. but that was all, not a single piece of furniture or decor populated the space.
“This is a nice little place you got here,” Jack said, willfully avoiding eye contact with you.
You nodded “lucky I got it.”
“Ya know’ if you ever need help with setting up - I can always pop by.”
“I don’t have much to set up.”
Jack hesitated “.... and if you ever need any money I can-”
You cut him off “I don’t need any money.”
Jack backed down immediately, “no I know, but if you ever did…..since working right now is out of the question for you on account of the…” he put his hand up and gestured towards you. “I just don’t want you to be stressed, is all I’m trying to say.”
“How would your wife feel about that Jack? You handing me money every month?” You asked.
“I would tell her, of course, but it don't very much matter how she feels about it. It ain't any of her business and she knows the situation that we were in,” he said matter of factly.
You were quiet, “well see.”
Jack drew in a breath, taking the silence as a sign to leave. He placed his hat and made his way back to the front door “just know, the offer is open, I want to help.”
You nodded and followed him out “oh and I scheduled us for counseling. The first Wednesday of every month at six. I’ll text you the address.”
Jack turned “this Wednesday too?”
You nodded
“Great,” Jack said. “You need a ride?”
You nodded again.
“Well, I’ll pick you up and we can go from here.”
“Sounds like a plan” you said rather awkwardly.
Jack pulled the key fob out of his jacket and used it to unlock the car. “Well, have a nice night Y/N - if you need anything don't hesitate to call.”
-
The ride from your house to his was all back roads, he could have taken route six, it would have saved him fifteen minutes but it also meant that he would have to cross through the center of both towns, and he didn’t feel like doing that.
The headlights of his car came upon the facade of his house. Jack parked, shut the car off then headed inside.
The shift in temperature was noticeable, the A.C had been cranking away all day. He took his boots off and kicked them to the side, then his hat, making sure to lock the door behind him before heading upstairs.
“Jack?” a voice called from upstairs. Emily appeared at the landing, wearing a silk night gown.
“Hey there sweet pea,” Jack said, smiling up at her.
“You said you’d be home at eight,” Emily remarked.
Jack looked at the clock, it read 8:43pm.
“Sorry about that darlin’. I took the back roads , and I had to stop for gas on the way home. How was your day?”
Emily shrugged, twisting her wedding band around her finger.
Jack frowned as he ascended the steps towards her “did something happen today?”
She twisted the corner of her lips, making a sour face, and shook her head.
“You know, you could tell me if something did,” he said.
“I know” Emily responded, walking with him to the bedroom. The room was lit by flashes of the television playing an infomercial on low volume.
Jack reached out, catching her waist and spinning her around to face him gently, “Em, what is it?”
“I saw Lauren today,” she said looking away.
Lauren used to own the ranch property next door with her husband, newlyweds at the time, they moved away a few years ago. Jack had seen her once or twice since then, but they never stayed in town for long, only to visit Lauren’s mother.
“Did she recognize you?” Jack asked, panic in his voice.
“No” Emily assured him “she didn’t even see me….she’s….I mean I knew that she would have to be since so much time has passed but I didn’t expect her to look so…”
“Old?” Jack asked.
He remembered what Emily’s face had looked like when she saw him for the first time…horror, disgust. She loved him, yes…but Jack knew that the years had worn him down - gave him gray hair, wrinkles and a few inches around the waist. He knew that she found him less desirable, it was evident in the way she looked at him.
Emily nodded slowly and broke away from him, going over to her side of the bed.
Jack sighed. He knew this transition was weighing heavily on her. From her perspective it was as if she blinked and the world jumped decades in the future, leaving her behind.
“You'll get old too,” he said, trying to look at the positive. “You won't feel this way forever, it's an adjustment period. Things will feel normal again.”
“And my family?” Emily asked, looking up at him with wide hopeful eyes.
His brows knit together as he shook his head. “Sweet pea we've talked about this I- I don’t think it would be a smart thing to do.”
Statesmen had released Emily into his care on only one condition: her reanimation stayed a secret. If not…well, Jack didn't want to think about that. He understood why, if the knowledge of what she was got out to the general public - there's no telling what kind of chaos would ensue. Not to mention the emotional toll it would take on her family, they had already grieved and moved on, it was best to leave it alone.
The only people who knew her true identity outside of Statesmen was his mother, sister, and you. To the rest of the world, she was Rebecca Lynn, niece of the late Emily Daniels.
Emily shook her head “it's not fair Jack, you get your family - you get your life, your friends and your job. What do I get?”
“You get me, you get our family” Jack reminded her.
“I get a version of you - and your family,” she said.
“What does that mean?”
Emily was quiet.
The room filled with the incoherent ramblings of the television.
When she finally did speak, it was barely above a whisper. She slipped underneath the covers, pulling them up to her shoulders and turning on her side away from him, “I’m tired Jack.”
Jack looked at her, waiting to see what else she would say ….but she remained still.
Although she never said it, Jack knew the whole situation with the baby burned her. She was experiencing the loss of her child for the first time, Jack had had twenty-four years to come to terms with it.
Due to ethical reasons, Emily was the only one brought back. They had made it so she couldn't get pregnant, even if she wanted to. Her reproductive system had intentionally only been half recreated.
“After the baby is born and she is settled,” Jack said calmly “we can look into adoption. It’s just gonna take a year or two at first.”
Emily said nothing.
“Em, I know it's overwhelming and you may not believe me now, but all of this is for you. Everything I have done, everything I have sacrificed, has always been for you. I never stopped loving you, not even for a second. You have to just trust me that things will work out….Emily.”
“I’m sure fucking a baby into her took so much sacrifice Jack” Emily shot back..
Jack swallowed hard. She didn’t understand, she couldn’t understand. He had been alone for so long….she had no idea the amount of sacrifice he had made every single day since she had passed. Years worth, that she never got to see.
“You’ve been gone a long time Emily - a very long time. It ain’t that simple. I apologize for the circumstances, but it happened and I won’t just abandon them.”
Jack waited, listening to see if she had more to say, when he was sure she was done, Jack sighed, patted her leg, and stood.
“Do you love her?” Emily asked faintly.
He wasn’t sure how to answer that question, of course he loved you. He would always love you. He didn't want to lie, but he also didn’t want to admit the truth.
“I still care for her,” he said.
“That wasn’t my question Jack,” Emily pointed out.
He sighed “the love I have for her is different then the love I have for you. Yes, I’ll always care for her but I choose you for a reason.”
When she didn’t respond, he shut the door to the bathroom in order to shower off the day.
#Jack Daniels x you#Whiskey x you#Agent whiskey x Reader#Agent Whiskey x You#Kingsmen Fanfiction#Pedro fanfic#Pedro Pascal
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Belly of the Beast: Part I
Dark!Dave York x F!reader
Warnings: it’s Dave, so…buckle up! No use of y/n. Homicide with a gun, reader is shot and grievously wounded and dying, graphic descriptions of murder and gore, use of medical equipment/terminology, amateur triage and medical care, Dave is a voyeuristic creep, Stockholm syndrome?, physical restraints, partial nudity, divergence from EQ2 plot and major character deaths mentioned. No mention of wife or kids. No smut this time! (Shocking, I know.) Dark themes obviously, I mean, Dave DOES kill for money, after all.
Summary: You’ve been Dave’s housekeeper for two years. When you arrive for your morning shift, the last thing you expect to see is Dave standing over a body.
This was going to be a one shot but I decided it worked better as a two parter. Enjoy!
Word Count: 4,700
Taglist: tagging the people I know for sure want to be tagged. If you want to be tagged for part II, lmk!
@ohheypedrito @kateispunk @survivingandenduring @kellybelly1978 @awilderi @oberynslady @natdeandar @daddy-dins-girl @heavennumber2 @guelyury
—
The sky is still dark, a faint slice of jagged light cast across a slate colored horizon, when you arrive for the day at Dave York’s home.
You notice his car parked in the driveway as you pull in, checking your messages to make sure you hadn’t missed anything from him, finding nothing. You frown.
Normally, he would tell you when he would be home if he knew you were also going to be there that day. He simply must have forgotten to mention it this time. It wasn’t a big deal; you could just work around him like you always did.
He was gone for work more often than not. What that entails, you aren’t entirely sure of; all you knew was that he worked in D.C. Something bureaucratic, most likely.
What was even more curious than his unannounced presence, however, was a second vehicle parked behind his.
You pull up next to aforementioned vehicle and get out, gathering your bucket of cleaning supplies from the backseat. Dave provided most of what was used, but there were a few items you preferred for various reasons, with his approval, of course. You had been his housekeeper for the last two years, servicing his home bi-weekly, and he paid you well, plus tips. You had few complaints.
Although the home was large and stately, he lived alone as far as you knew. You couldn’t recall seeing anyone there before now.
As you walk along the edge of the driveway to the side door, you note the pale illumination filtering out through the kitchen window onto the concrete, which makes sense considering the time of day. He’s most likely just sitting down to have his coffee and breakfast. You hope you don’t startle him too much.
The sun is ascending rapidly, already burning brighter in the short walk from your car to the door, providing you with enough light to get your key out.
You unlock the side door, which steps directly into a small utility and mud room. The interior door to the kitchen is drawn shut, which wasn’t unusual, but an unfamiliar noise registers as you enter, immediately followed by what sounds like chair legs scraping along the tiled floor, and Dave’s voice saying what sounds like a name. Mac? Is that what you heard?
Your mind fumbles over the original sound, knowing it’s familiar, but that you can’t quite place it, trying to trace its source. You can best describe it as a muted pop, loud enough to notice but not so loud as to sound any alarm bells. Or so you think.
You smell the strong waft of coffee and eggs cooking as you enter. And something else.
The scene that is laid out before you as you push open the kitchen door is the last thing you would ever expect or want to find, and the realization of what the unidentified sound was hits you like a freight train.
What you discover is Dave standing above a body, pistol clutched tightly in his right hand, knuckles turning alabaster, with what you’re certain is a silencer screwed to the end of the barrel.
The body sprawled across the floor belongs to a man you don’t recognize, a pool of fresh blood spreading rapidly from a single gunshot wound to the front of the skull, bone and brain matter studding the kitchen island and wall, the stink of crimson iron filling the air.
Dave’s head snaps up when he hears you enter, his face gone pale, but otherwise completely blank and devoid of emotion.
Your eyes lock.
You think you say his name. You aren’t sure, and the only reason you know you’ve said anything at all is because you feel the muscles in your esophagus stretching and vibrating, your heart thundering inside your rib cage.
You’re smart enough to deduce that this isn’t some home invasion gone awry. The unknown car in the driveway and the trained, emotionless nature at which Dave currently presents himself is testament to that.
The only option left is that Dave killed a man. And now he has his sights trained on none other than you.
You drop the bucket of supplies, the hollow sound of plastic hitting ceramic reverberating in your skull as you turn, your brain screaming at you to run, run.
In hindsight, running was a bad idea. But panic doesn’t always create rationale.
You feel your legs pumping, your lungs sucking in air. You want to scream for help but when you attempt it, the only sound that comes out is a small, strangled croak of terror. You feel like a damsel in distress in every horror movie you’ve ever seen, almost as if you aren’t actually moving at all, like you’re just running in place while the villain slowly catches up to you.
If you could just reach the neighbor’s house. If you could just… reach…
You manage to make it to the driveway, but you’re barely a few steps onto the concrete when that same muted pop registers again, and you instantly feel a sharp, burning, agonizing sting that rips right through you like a hot knife through butter, knocking you ass over teakettle just paces from Dave’s car, your face slamming hard against the ground.
You look down to see the spreading circle of blood on your shirt against your lower abdomen, a geyser of red bubbling up from the wound. And Dave is on you in an instant, hovering above you, gun trained right at your head.
You know you’re a goner. Abdominal gunshots are frequently fatal, at least according to the kind of shows you like to watch. And at the rate you’re seeing your blood spill out, you know it’s anything but good.
Before you fully comprehend what is happening, your vision already waning, you’re pleading for Dave to end your life as quickly as possible, ‘please, please Mr. York, I’ve been good to you. Please do it fast’, you choke out.
But Dave doesn’t kill you. His dark eyes bore into you, through you, and he hesitates. He’s watching you die and beg for him to put you down and yet he can’t bring himself to actually do it, regardless of how many names he’s scratched out of his ledger without remorse. Maybe because you’re just an innocent, wrong place wrong time, but he can’t seem to do it.
“Please, don’t let me suffer,” you sob as you lift a single, quaking hand that is slicked deep burgundy, and still he doesn’t put you down, only lowering the gun to his side, and you can’t help but wonder what you did to deserve to suffer slowly like this.
Finally, some sense of self preservation washes over you, and even as you’re dying, in your final throes of desperation, you start ripping and clawing at your shirt, managing to somehow tear a sizable chunk out of it, in order to make some kind of makeshift tourniquet that could potentially save your life.
Your hands shake and slip, blood pressure dropping rapidly, and your vision wanes more, the edges of the lightening sky fading and blotting away. You suddenly feel very cold and you can feel your heartbeat gradually ebbing to a slow, dull throb.
The last thing you see before your vision goes completely dark is Dave crouching over you, his face screwed up in regret.
——
God damn it.
When Dave had found out only days before that McCall was still alive, and that his old compatriot had sniffed out the details shrouding Susan’s death, Dave had lost all sight of anything else, completely forgetting you were scheduled to clean his house that day.
Had he realized, he would have canceled. It would have made things far less complicated.
But God fucking damn it. He didn’t want to kill you, his militaristic training and instincts piloting his actions when you fled instead of surrendering, intending to put a round in your skull but changing his mind at the last possible fraction of a second so that he totally FUBAR’d the shot and hit your abdomen instead. A gut shot wasn’t much better. In fact, it was worse. Way worse.
You’re still breathing when he finishes applying the crude tourniquet that you had started, which didn’t completely stop the bleeding but slowed it enough to make a difference. That way, he could get you down into the basement where he could apply proper triage.
His medical training was rudimentary and archaic at best, but it was better than nothing. And it was his best chance at keeping you alive.
Your blood soaks through the light blue dress shirt Dave is wearing as he carries you through the house draped in his arms, the one you once told him looked nice on him. He takes you into the basement and places you on his work table — which isn’t sterile — noting no exit wound as he sets you down, which can be good or bad, all things depending.
Thankfully, he locates the bullet readily enough, fishing it out with a narrow pair of forceps, discarding it into a medical pan as he lets out a sigh of relief when he sees the bullet didn’t strike anything crucial, an incredibly lucky feat.
He grabs a skin stapler to close up the wound; a messy and rushed method of closure that would leave behind a pretty significant scar, but he didn’t have the luxury of time to close the wound properly with a needle, especially considering the rate at which his hands were already shaking.
He takes in a deep breath when he finishes stapling you back together and leans over you, examining your face and body visually, his mind racing as to what he should do now. You still had a pulse. You were breathing. But you had lost a lot of blood, and your prognosis wasn’t good.
Frowning, the crease deepening between his brows, he cleans and sterilizes the wound, wrapping you up in proper dressing, which he hopes is enough to stave off any infection. He can’t risk taking you to a hospital. Especially when there’s still a dead man to deal with only a floor above.
The good news is that he knew no one would come looking for McCall, the majority believing him to already be dead, so disposal would thankfully be swift and painless. You, on the other hand, he was unsure of. He knew your parents had passed and you didn’t have siblings, but he didn’t know if there was a boyfriend or girlfriend in your life, or friends who would notice your absence.
His mind reels with every possibility. Dave isn’t a man who enjoys loose ends. Loose ends make his ass itch.
Your shirt is shredded and bloody, so he removes the remainder of it, leaving you in a soft black cotton bra. He doesn’t let his eyes wander, although, at the back of his mind, he realizes he has always found you attractive. Just as quickly as it dawns on him, he shakes the thought from his mind; it is neither the time nor place for such endeavors.
He removes your shoes but not your socks, knowing you would be cold from having lost so much blood. He might actually put one of his pairs over your own, for good measure.
After a long beat of silent contemplation, Dave scoops you up into his arms once more.
——
You wake up from a fitful sleep some hours later, in a bed you’ve never slept in before. The room around you is dark, shades drawn, a faint light flooding in from beneath a closed door.
When you attempt to sit up, pain lances through your torso and you cry out, your back hitting the mattress. You immediately realize, much to your horror, that you’re also handcuffed to a bedpost. Even if you could move without effort, you aren’t exactly going anywhere.
Your memory suddenly comes flooding back in a tidal wave of images, recalling all of the events that lead up to this point; the body on the kitchen floor, the gunshot, Dave staring down at you with a pistol in his hand.
But you aren’t in a hospital and this isn’t a hospital bed. You’re in Dave’s bedroom. In Dave’s bed.
The door clicks open and a familiar silhouette steps into the room, regarding you in steely silence. You recognize the broad shoulders right away, the thick arms, the short cropped hair.
Your pulse quickens, your body and mind telling you to flee again, even though you know you can’t, causing you to flinch with a choked whimper when he takes a step toward you.
“I wouldn’t move, sweetheart. You lost a lot of blood,” Dave explains, his voice low and soft to your ears as he approaches the bed.
Your body is trembling hard. So hard that it makes the entire bed vibrate.
He’s no longer wearing the blue shirt or black slacks from before, now dressed in a slate gray t-shirt and Adidas sweats. His dark eyes study you as he sits next to you on the edge of the bed. If you weren’t so weak, you think you would strike him.
He lifts the back of his hand to your cheek and you flinch again.
“Shh,” he tuts, “I’m not going to harm you.”
His hand presses to the soft round of your cheek, your forehead, checking for fever.
“Y-you— you s-shot me—?“ you croak.
“I reacted poorly,” Dave agrees with a small nod, his lips parted softly, “but you also shouldn’t have run.”
“You k-killed… that man…”
“I did, indeed.” His eyes grow a shade darker, his brow knitting together, lending him a sinister appearance. “But that man was threatening me. That man was going to kill me…” Dave explains, an edge of malice and contempt to his voice. “I was left with few options.”
You stare back, unblinkingly, trying to decide what to say next, if anything.
“My family will come looking for me,” is what you settle on, a wash of bravery suddenly welling up within you.
To that, Dave smirks, eyes remaining dark, hand lowering to the bed by your hip.
“What family?” Dave asks, smirk slanting even more, his tone semi-mocking. “Do you really think I would hire someone to come into my home without doing a full investigation on them?”
Your jaw drops open, hanging slack in the air, as it dawns on you that a trained killer has been right under your nose this entire time. You would scream if you had the lung capacity to do so.
You should have seen the patterns. Noticed the signs. The constant travel, the lack of personal touches to his home, the pinpricks of blood you occasionally found on his clothes that you excused for other things. That one room in the basement he forbade you from entering.
But you hadn’t, causing you to nearly pay with your life.
Truth is, Dave had picked you for good reason, and it wasn’t just because of the exemplary reviews. You were naive and trusting, you had no family, no criminal record, you didn’t work for an agency; you worked solo. Your work ethic and reliability were just cherries on top.
You look down to notice the IV needle in your hand, and you lift it in examination, your hand shaking and sputtering weakly. No… no, you really had no clue who this guy was at all.
Dave watches you for a beat before he gently grasps your hand and places it back down on the bed, regarding you with uncharacteristic softness and empathy.
You feel your consciousness starting to drift then as Dave pulls the covers back to check the dressings, finding they’re still intact and that the wound hasn’t reopened from what he can tell. He’ll clean and redress everything in the morning. For now, you need rest.
“I’ll be right back,” he tells you, stepping out of the room for what feels like only a meager blip of time to you, but when you open your eyes again, he’s hovering above you once more with a thermometer and an ice pack.
“Open up,” he instructs, and you do so obediently.
“Good girl,” Dave praises as he checks your temperature, and you close your eyes.
When the thermometer beeps, which feels like an eternity later, he frowns, exhaling a long sigh. “101.5. Here,” he says, leaning to the side where he opens a drawer on the night stand, a bottle of aspirin rattling somewhere next to your head. The sound is grating, making your head throb, and suddenly the lamp seems too bright.
He feeds you some pills and gives you a drink of water from a nearby tumbler, which you guess was also on the nightstand, but aren’t too sure.
He pulls the blanket back up all the way to your chin and places the ice pack on your forehead, staring down at you. Although Dave was the reason you were even here at all, he is treating you with a surprising amount of tenderness.
“You need to eat,” he says after a moment. “Dinner is almost ready.”
——
You must pass out again, because when your eyes reopen, Dave stands next to you with a small tray table filled with food.
“Chicken and dumplings,” he explains. “It will keep the cold away.”
You nod your head weakly as he places the tray over you. When you reach for the spoon, he stops you, blocking your hand with his own.
“Let me,” he says, picking up the spoon. “I don’t want you moving anymore than necessary.”
You have to keep reminding yourself that he’s the one who shot you. He’s why you’re in this mess in the first place. Why you’re here, injured, with a hole in your abdomen, chained to his bed.
The way he’s acting shouldn’t be trusted.
You try to resist, but he grabs your jaw with the other hand and forces it to pop open, pressing the spoon past your lips as he ladles the soup into your mouth, much to your displeasure.
“Eat,” he says softly, but sternly, his features darkening in regard.
The food is warm, as promised, and delicious. You aren’t sure of the last time you ate, not knowing what time or even what day it is, but you soon realize you’re starving. Because of this, the second spoonful is not met with as much resistance as the first, your mouth hinging open in resignation and acquiescence.
Dave’s eyes zero in on your soft lips. The way they twitch ever so slightly as they divide. The way your tongue looks so velvet and inviting…
He feeds you slowly, thoughtfully, watching your every move, his own lips parted in concentration as you take in the much needed sustenance.
By the end of it, you’ve managed to polish off about half the bowl. Seemingly satisfied with that, he makes you drink some Gatorade.
“Why are you doing this?” you ask weakly as soon as you swallow down a couple gulps of the blue liquid, your consciousness ebbing and flowing by the second. Dave looks at your face, but he doesn’t give you an answer. He doesn’t have one to give.
Part of him wishes he did.
“I have to pee,” you tell him suddenly when you notice the familiar stab of discomfort in your lower region. A realization that sends a jolt of anxiety rushing through you, your pulse racing when you watch his face fall. He hadn’t even thought of that…
His skills and equipment were limited to wound care, so of course he hadn’t put a catheter in. He wouldn’t know how even if he did happen to have one.
He deliberates on what to do. He didn’t have a bed pan. But, he was sure he could find something comparable to use.
Or he could help you to the bathroom. He has an en suite, it was literally only steps around the bed. But the space was tight. It would take some maneuvering. And he would have to be close to you the entire time. Not to mention uncuffing you from the bed.
In the end, that’s what he settles on.
“Let me help you to the bathroom, sweetheart,” he says to you, pulling the blankets back, and you are cold. So cold. Your flesh pebbling with the lick of cool air against your skin.
He unlocks the handcuffs and you massage your sore wrist and shoulder the moment you have full motion of your arm again.
“Slowly,” he instructs, his voice low and even. “Grab the IV stand.”
You do as you’re told, gripping the cool steel in your hand as you grasp his forearm with the other while he gingerly manipulates you into a sitting position. You cry out at the sudden dagger of pain that slices through your lower gut, and he does his best to steady you against him.
He did this to you, you keep reminding yourself. He did this to you.
He lifts you carefully, slowly, and you groan at the swell of pain when he places you on your feet.
“Easy, easy…” he murmurs, one arm circling your waist to keep you upright. You flinch at the contact.
You make it to the bathroom easily enough, light flooding the small room as Dave flips the switch. A bathroom you’ve cleaned countless times. There was rarely much to clean in here, save for the occasional whisker in the sink, or some light trash in the bin.
Dave was neat and fastidious, and not frequently home. You often wondered why he needed someone to clean his house in the first place.
The space looks no different than usual, but right now it feels… different. You shouldn’t be here.
He guides you to the toilet, and when you get there, you stare down at it, pondering to yourself how this is going to work.
He seems hesitant to leave your side.
“Go ahead,” he tells you softly, “I won’t look.”
You freeze. The last thing you want is to expose your body to him when he already has several advantages on you. But your bladder is screaming at you to go, especially now given your proximity to the porcelain bowl, and you can barely stand on your own, your arms and legs wobbling.
You watch as he turns his back, placing himself between you and the exit. You bend just slightly to tug your bottoms down, but it’s too much, more pain coursing through your body. You yelp, unable to even budge the fabric.
“Hey,” Dave says, turning back to face you, “Let me help you.”
“No, I—I got it,” you protest, your arms shaking, attempting it again, only to end up with the same result. “Fuck—“
“Hey,” Dave says a second time, more sternly than before, as he moves in to your space. “Let me help. I promise I won’t touch you.”
You tremble. You’re cold, you’re frightened, you’re weak. So weak. You’re in your bra, partially exposed to him already. Yet, you concede with a nod anyway. You’ll piss yourself if you don’t.
He mirrors your nod in silent confirmation and moves closer, crowding into your intimate space, his fingers finding the waistband of your leggings and underwear. He slides them down your hips and legs in unison, all the way to your knees. As promised, he doesn’t touch you more than he needs to.
But he has to look. He needs to see where his hands are in relation to your body in order to keep himself from accidentally breaking his promise of touching you in a way you didn’t consent to, and another part of him just can’t help it, either. He is a man, after all, and he wasn’t currently seeing anyone. Romance wasn’t exactly optimal for someone in his position, his attention honed in on his work above all else.
When the nights were long and lonely enough, he would, on occasion, share his bed with a sex worker, but aforementioned nights were few and far between. He enjoyed his job. He got off on it. Romance was often placed on the back burner.
But there’s just something about you. Especially now, with how vulnerable you are, that he finds irresistible.
His gaze only lingers on your bared skin for a moment, big brown puppy dog eyes roving over your soft curves, holding on to you as he lowers you down to the commode. And, god, you’re just as beautiful as he imagined, his skin heating at the sight of your soft folds.
“Call for me when you’re done,” he grates quietly as he takes a step out of the bathroom, blood rushing to certain parts of his body, shutting the door to give you a modicum of privacy, which you’re more than grateful for.
His eyes on you had not gone unnoticed. You weren’t stupid and you weren’t seeing anyone either, currently; his attention, regardless of how brief, had made your skin heat and your core pulse with need. You clear your throat and try to discard the thought.
Dave is why you are here. Dave is dangerous. So dangerous he can’t even take you to a hospital to get proper medical attention. Stop it.
It feels like you pee for ages. You aren’t totally convinced you’re awake for most of it. Eventually, you finish, even managing to wipe yourself, in spite of things, which you’re relieved for. You wouldn’t want him to do it for you; that would be humiliating and degrading.
You call for Dave when you’re done and he returns in an instant, hoisting you to your feet as he pulls your pants and underwear back up and over your hips, trying not to think about your soft cunt. You can see how hard he’s trying not to look at you.
“Good?” he asks. You nod.
Bracing yourself against him, he helps you back to the comfort of the bed. It smells like him, despite how little he’s actually in it. You hiss through your teeth as he manipulates you into position, adjusting the pillows and covers until you’re as comfortable as possible.
You’re cold. Freezing, in fact, despite it being the swell of summer.
“I’m c-cold,” you lament to Dave, crossing your arms over your chest beneath the blanket.
Dave’s lips pinch to the side in thought. “Hold on.”
He returns a moment later with an extra blanket, tossing it over you, tucking the edges neatly around your form, taking extra care to be gentle, noteably around your abdomen.
As you watch him, his face and eyes soft, his hair mussed and unkempt, you ask yourself once again why he’s doing all of this for you.
Guilt? Shame? Something else?
You don’t have much time to ruminate on it for too long before your consciousness peters away once more.
——
Dave sighs as he watches you slip back into listlessness. You’re doing better than he anticipated, but you aren’t out of the woods yet. He knows how much blood you had lost; he’d spent hours cleaning it. Not to mention McCall, the remains of which he had delivered to an acquaintance who works at the industrial incinerator on the outskirts of town, after tending to you.
He loops your hand back through the cuff on the bedpost and peers down at you. You’re so beautiful; he hopes you make it. He wishes you hadn’t run from him. God, why did you run? He doesn’t want you to meet the same fate as McCall. He doesn’t want to know what your incinerated body smells like.
Every body has a different smell, in his experience.
He gives you another dose of morphine to reduce any pain you may be feeling and to keep you knocked out for a few more hours, checking for fever again, which is currently holding steady. It was good that it wasn’t going up. Any higher and you could potentially be in trouble. He’ll keep checking throughout the night to be on the safe side.
He sighs, knowing he’ll have to stay in town for weeks, which he detested doing. He hated staying in one place for longer than required. But he didn’t have much of a choice at this point.
He turns off the light and shuts the door behind him as he leaves you to rest.
Part II coming soon!
#dave york#dave york x reader#dave york x female reader#dave york x f!reader#pedro pascal#writing#fanfic#romance#dark romance#pedro fanfic
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“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.
#pedrostories#joel x female reader#joel miller x original character#joel fluff#joel miller x reader#joel smut#joel tlou#joel fanfic#joel the last of us#joel miller#joel x f!reader#pedro fanfic#pedro x you#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro x reader#pedro is daddy#pedro pascal#the last of us#joel and ellie#joel x oc#pedrohub#joel miller x wife!reader#Shit i love this skirt
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How is your pain, my love? —> Chapter 1. The Birth.
———
Excitement and anxiety filled Pedro and his wife Charlotte’s bedroom. She lay on the bed, her rounded belly a sign that the long-awaited moment had finally arrived. Contractions came in waves, and she squeezed Pedro’s hand with each peak of pain.
Charlotte: “Pedro, I think it’s time. The contractions are becoming more regular. Let’s call the hospital.”
Pedro: “Alright, I’ll call them right away.”
Pedro dialed the hospital’s number while Charlotte took deep breaths to manage the pain.
As they arrived at the hospital, the excitement and nervousness were palpable. They were directed to a delivery room where the medical staff was waiting.
Nurse: “Hello, how’s it going? Are you ready to meet your little baby?”
Charlotte: “Yes, I’m ready. But I’m a bit apprehensive about the pain.”
Pedro took his wife’s hand and smiled at her.
Pedro: “You’re amazing, you can do this. I’ll be here for you every step of the way.”
The labor began, and Charlotte endured the pain with courage. Pedro was by her side throughout the process, holding her hand, encouraging her, and comforting her.
Nurse: “We’re almost ready for the birth. Both of you are incredible.”
Finally, the long-awaited moment arrived. The baby made its appearance, cries filled the room, and the magical moment of birth was celebrated with tears of joy.
Nurse: “Congratulations, it’s a beautiful baby! It’s a baby boy!”
Pedro hesitated, his face betraying his fear as he looked at the crying newborn. He didn’t take the baby into his arms, feeling the overwhelming weight of his own insecurity.
Charlotte: “Pedro, look at our son. He’s perfect.”
Pedro observed the baby with teary eyes, battling his own inner demons.
The baby, now resting on his mother’s chest, filled the delivery room with his cries. Pedro and Charlotte looked at each other with a mixture of exhaustion and happiness; they had already chosen their son’s name before his birth.
Nurse: “Congratulations! It’s a beautiful baby!”
Charlotte took Pedro’s hand, and one of the midwives asked gently:
Nurse : “Do we have a name for this little angel? We need to write it on his bracelet.”
Charlotte smiled at Pedro, then replied to the midwife:
Charlotte: “Our son will be named Diego.”
Pedro, although somewhat disconnected by the baby’s birth, approved of Charlotte’s choice by kissing her on the forehead.
The midwives carefully wrote the name on the baby’s bracelet and placed it on his wrist, marking his entry into the world.
The midwife gently took the newborn in her arms.
Midwife: “We’ll take the baby for some examinations and a bath. Don’t worry; everything will be fine.”
The three midwives left the room with the baby, leaving Pedro and Charlotte alone.
Charlotte: “Look at him; he’s so adorable. We have a baby boy, my love.”
Pedro smiled at his wife, but a shadow of concern crossed his face.
Pedro: “Yes, he’s beautiful.”
Charlotte: “Pedro, the nurses and doctors will take good care of him.”
Pedro nodded but remained anxious.
Meanwhile, in the adjacent room, the three midwives had malicious intentions. They discreetly took out their phones and took photos of the newborn without Pedro and his wife’s consent.
Malicious Midwife: “Look at this, Pedro Pascal’s child. We’ll make a fortune if we sell these photos to the tabloids.”
The other midwives nodded with sly smiles.
Midwife: “Yes, we’re going to strike it rich with the birth of this baby.”
They then returned to the delivery room with the baby, hiding their malicious intentions behind professional smiles.
———-
I hope you like it! Feel free to give your feedback in the comments! Thanks You!!
#fanfiction pedro pascal#pedro fanfic#pedro pascal#daddy pedro#pedropascal#zaddy pedro#pedrostories#pedroispunk#pedro is daddy#joel miller#javier peña#din djarin#dieter bravo#ezra prospect#narcos#the bubble#the mandalorian#the last of us
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You are an obsesión
pairing: dark!dave york x dark!f Reader (no use of Y/N)
Summary: You are obsessively in love with your neighbor, Dave York. He's perfect, but you know he's a psycho. You're no better.
Rating: M
Warnings: dark!Dave, dark!Reader, unspecified age, oral sex, blowjob, deepthroating, fingering, squirting, unprotected PiV, size kink, creampie, dirty talk, pet names, cheating. If I miss smt send me a pm
Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner
You've always been in love with your neighbor, Dave York, the seemingly perfect man, the perfect father, the perfect husband, but you know he just pretends to be and you don't mind his true side, his dark side.
You knew he was spying on you, once you caught him peek out from his window, since that moment you decided to tease him once wearing a skimpy outfit, once wearing a complete intimate too succinct, one more time you decided to masturbate knowing he was spying on you.
You could feel his eyes on you, and it turned you on even more.
When you met him with his daughters in the driveway, he was polite and kind, he pretended to be innocent, his daughters loved you, you babysitted 'em from time to time, his wife was the sweetest woman you ever met, but she was always there for him and that was a huge problem for you and your idea.
You wanted him, at least once.
You needed him.
You decided to send her a fake mail in which you invited her and their family to a SPA far enough from home. He wouldn't go with them, and you knew, he must work, you heard.
The last time you babysitted his daughters, you installed a Trojan virus onto their system. So, you were always with them.
You saw his wife and their children go away and you knew the time to act was that.
You went to his house and pretended to go there babysitting his daughters. You knocked twice and a minute later, he opened the door. He looked surprised, you fascinated by his brown eyes, his husky voice, and that smile.
You returned the smile, "Hello."
"What can I do fo'you?" he asked with a polite and innocent smile.
"Well, you wife asked me to come for your girls," you said pretending to be innocent.
"Uhm, well-- they're not here." he replied opening the door.
You took a surprised expression, "Really?! Oh, that's weird, she's so punctual,"
He pressed his lips together thoughtful; he looked you in the eye and you returned his gaze.
If it was up to you, you’d already jump on him, instead you breathed deeply and tried to look like a good girl.
"Well, uhm-- so I go home," you said turning your back on him.
"Hey, uhm, can I invite you to have a cup of coffee? Inside, if you'd like--"
Ofcourse.
You turned toward him with a little smile. "Yeah, sure."
"Come in." he invited you getting you into the house.
You've been there dozens and dozens of times, most of the time you were with the girls in the kitchen or in their room. When you babysat them, Mr. and Mrs. York were never home and they invited you to make yourself at home, that time being with him alone in his house gave you shivers, shivers with excitement.
You sat at the kitchen island on a stool while he made coffee, "So- uhm-- how are your studies going?" he asked turning his back on you.
"Well, it's tough, but I like it. I mean, studying architecture was my dream as a child so today study all that stuff and dream to build houses one day" he handed you a cup "is one of the most exciting things in the world," you said sipping your coffee and then looking into his eyes, "What 'bout you?" he looked at you cocking his head to one side "What turns you on?"
He grinned, "Quite a lot of things-- my job, family, follow my favourite people on social media, find Trojan and virus in my PC," his grin spread wide "I got here before you and y'know where I work," you smiled knowingly caught in the act.
"D'you mind?" you asked rising an eyebrow.
"Not at all, but y'know everything comes with a price," he answered sitting on a stool next to you.
If you'd been naive, you'd lost your colour, instead you smirked laying your hand on his.
"What d' you suggest?" you provoked him.
"I won't report you, but I want something in return," he replied "And don't look me with those puppy eyes," he added smirking.
"Seems to me you're the one who pretends to be an innocent good guy, but you and I know what you're capable of, don't you?"
He looked you in the eye, he lost his smile, "What d' you want? Are you blackmailing me?"
You shook your head, "No, but maybe we could make a deal," you said blinking and smiling to him.
"I'm all ears." he said frowning. "I know, you love looking," you said, and you noticed he held his breath "Maybe you haven't noticed it, but I saw you stare at me through the window, I know you like me and--"
He held his breath barking, "Stop!"
You looked him in the eye and observed as his face turned from taut to amused. "Did you like it?" he asked with a grin.
"Yes." you replied feeling your heart beating fast.
Oh, you loved the dimples in his cheeks.
"Show me," he told you getting up from the stool and taking your hand.
"If you're trying to screw me over, your wife will know, oh yes I'll make sure she knows," you tell him in a whisper "And you know I'm not joking,"
He smiled, "Y'know, maybe you and I are more alike than you and I think,"
"Good," you approached him, and you tried to kiss him, but he pushed you away “Not so fast,” he told you. You cocked your head to the side, “I want to see you, here, on my kitchen island," he said taking a step back, “now don't pretend to be innocent, you naughty girl," he added "touch yourself, I wanna see you,"
You swallowed, but you didn't hold back, it's all so kinky, but damn it turned you on.
Did he want a show? Well, he'd have one.
You took a step back and without looking away from his eyes, you took off your top that barely covered your breasts, leaving you in your bra, you touched yourself and teased your still covered nipples and you saw it, you noticed his reaction, his eyes became two slits, you knew he was holding back, good. You ran a finger along your cunt still covered by your jeans, then you unbuttoned the jeans and lowered the zipper. You never lost sight of his eyes or his expression which was becoming more and more tense, you could see it, you knew these types of shows turned him on, and your arousal grew more and more. You slipped off your jeans, remaining in your underwear, "D' you want to see?" you saw him nod “Me too,” you added with a mischievous smirk.
"That wasn't the deal," he recalled, "ladies first." he added with a little smirk.
"Y'know," you said looking in his eye "I'll make an exception for you,” you grinned.
"I consider it an honor," he replied.
You put your hand in your slip, and you immediately found your wet folds, you closed your eyes and a moan escaped from your lips "Eyes on me," he ordered to you while his eyes became darker. You opened your eyes and masturbate never seemed so good: your object of desire was there in front of you, you didn't have to pretend he wasn't looking at you he was really there, you felt it, you perceived it even if he hadn't touched you yet.
Your finger easily slipped in your folds, while his eyes followed your movements, and his look was enough to make your nipples harder. You stood against the island with one hand, while you gave pleasure with the other. Your breathing became erratic and in the blink of an eye, he reached you and wrapped your hand in his, you almost jumped from that gesture, but it was a moment and you immediately relaxed, leaning your torso on the island, "Let go," he said in your ear and then placed a kiss on your earlobe, along your jaw line, your neck, your collarbone, you moaned deliciously "You little brat," you moaned in response, closing your eyes. He pressed you against the island and then pulled down your panties, you immediately opened your eyes to find his eyes full of lust and finally he kissed you.
It was exactly as you imagined: it was demanding.
His fingers ran along your pubis in a slow and calculated caress and pleasure reverberated even more in you, leading you to close your legs "Open 'em," he ordered you, letting his fingers wander there again and again. "Dave, please--" you sighed laying your hands on his shoulders. He didn't add anything, he wrapped your pussy with his hand, you felt your dripping cunt and you were sure he felt it too. Caught up in ever-increasing arousal, you brought your lips close to his neck, if only he wasn’t married everyone would have known that Dave York was yours! Instead, you were content to lap his neck with kisses or simply lay your moist lips, "Watch out!"
"If I weren't, I wouldn't be here now," you told him between kisses.
"You are soaked, my naughty girl," he said slipping a finger in there making you feel an almost burning heat spreading from your trobbing center throughout your body, oh it was wonderful. The contact with one finger lasted only a short time because soon he added a second and then a third finger, his touch became rhythmic, incessant, tight, you were all a quiver under his touch, you moaned louder and louder until you clearly felt his fingers touch a precise spot inside you that made you see stars behind your eyelids, you tilted your head back, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your mouth slacked and you groaned then your orgasm exploded and with it you also felt liquid dripping.
You surrendered yourself against him breathing heavily, "Didn't think you squirted, brat"
"Neither did I," you admitted, it never happened to you in fact. Still with your eyes closed, you felt his hands rest on your naked hips and only then, after your orgasm faded completely, you remembered he was still fully clothed and was very very aroused.
"Now it's your turn," you said biting your lower lip caressing his intimacy throughout its still-covered length, "wow, you're huge, Mr. York,"
"Hope you like it," he said taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger and kissing you, your breaths mingling. Without interrupting the kiss, you unbuckled his belt and slid the zipper and together you lowered his pants. Only then you interrupted your kiss and noticed how big his intimacy was although it was covered, you looked at him for just a moment to seek confirmation in his eyes and then you knelt in front of him and released his erection, it was really huge. It was going to bruise you pretty badly, but it was going to be a pleasurable hurt, you wanted it with all your heart.
You surrounded it with a hand pumping a few times, he was hard and soft at once, like steel encased in velvet, a pearl of pre cum was already on its reddened tip, you observed the scene swallowing, then decided to taste it, he was salty and smooth. "Oh, shit" he whispered closing his eyes surrendering to your pressing caress. You sucked harder, flicking your tongue across the head of his massive erection. You decided to dare, you wanted all of him, you relaxed your throat and took him all of him, all the way down to touching his pubic hair with your nose, "Fuck" he groaned gripping your hair. You sucked harder and harder, "It feels so good," he whispered, you saw his tense expression, his short breath, with a hand in your hair he tried to make you move "I'm gonna come, move over," he muttered, but you in response grabbed his legs forcefully and sucked relentlessly "Oh shit, shit" he came between your lips and you tasted every last drop, "You naughty girl," commented opening his eyes revealing them shiny. You stood licking your lips, "I didn't think you were like that, you know?" he said taking your chin between thumb and forefinger again and kissing you. "Like what?" you asked him, resting your hands on his biceps. "Like this," he said shrugging his shoulders, "you've been here so many times, I've seen you so many times, but I didn't think having you in my hands would make me feel like this," he added wrapping one of your breasts in his huge hand causing you to shudder again and closing your eyes for a moment.
"Are you suggesting something?" you asked with a grin, moving even closer to him.
"If you suck my cock like that, you might as well become my lover," he told you with an equally grin.
"I told you we'd come to an understanding," you said, resting your lips on his.
"I knew you and I were alike, but not to this extent," he said holding you against the kitchen island again, "Be mine," he added giving you kisses along your jaw line and neck.
"I have been yours since I've known you, I've always wanted to be yours," you confessed by encircling his neck with your arms, "make me yours now," you added by wrapping his intimacy in your hand. "I got it," he said making you loosen your grip on his still half hard erection, he placed his hands on your hips and made you sit on the island, you moaned surprised and excited at the same time at the idea of what he would do to you, you thought he was going to fill you up but instead he moved his lips closer to your cunt and shit, you completely abandoned your torso on the surface and let him take control over you again, his tongue and lips sent you into ecstasy as you groaned discomposedly, and then he went to suck your clit and it was amazing, his hands were both on your breasts rolling your nipples between his fingers.
"I'm cumming," you said with a long, sonorous moan, "Fuck," you cursed.
He didn't even let you recover from this orgasm that he pulled you closer and in one move he filled you completely all the way down, making you gasp again, "You're so fucking tight," he cursed and you felt him so deep in you, he remained still for a moment only, a moment during which you both lacked breath and then he took to pumping in and out at an incessant pace, and you felt your orgasm mount inside you again, stronger and stronger.
“I need harder,” you said gasping, hearing your request, Dave held you down by the hips and pushed all the way in, and that's when you felt him completely up to your cervix "Fuck, fuck, fuck," you repeated incessantly as he pushed all the way in, grunting and moaning louder and louder, "Where d’ you want me?" he asked.
"Inside, fill me," you replied between moans, "I have an IUD,"
"Fuck," he cursed, and after a few more thrusts, you felt his cum inside you and partly leaking out.
It took you a while to resume breathing normally, then after a long silent stare you got dressed and erased all traces of what happened between the two of you. You put your clothes back on and it was then he grabbed you by the arm "We're even," he said.
"Never," you replied with a grin, "When will I see you again?"
"Whenever you want," he replied with a smirk.
After those words, you went back to your house and found him there at the window watching you. He would never stop spying on you nor would you ever do so with him.
#dave york#dark!dave york#dark!f reader#dave x reader#dave x f reader#pedro fanfic#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal characters fanfiction#pedro as dave york#dave x you#the equalizer 2#dave york x you#dave york x reader#dave york fanfiction#the equalizer fanfic#joel miller#the last of us#din djarin#oberyn martell#characters#narcos#game of thrones#the mandalorian
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Dreams
Words: 2051
Rating: 18+ Minors do not interact. This is for mature audience only. By continuing reading you hereby agree that you are ver 18.
Paring: Pedro x fem reader.
Masterlist ✨
It was a soft sound coming from the other side of the bed that woke him up. Thinking she was awake, he turned around to face her. But as he did he saw her eyes were still closed. Thinking he must have imagined the sound he closed his eyes to try and get a few more minutes of sleep before the day began. But just as he was drifting back to sleep he heard it again, this time louder, a moan followed by her breathy voice murmuring his name. His eyes shot open, looking over at her as she shifted slightly, her eyes fluttering behind closed eyelids, as another louder moan escaped her lips. Not daring to move he laid there, watching her as her body shifted again. And when his eyes trailed down over her body, which thankfully was in full view due to it being too hot lately to have the covers on, his eyes lingering over the swell of her breasts before moving further down. Down to where her hand lay against her mound, her hand inside her panties. Thinking he must be dreaming he blinked a few times but nope, he was not. Her hand slowly moving over her sex, pressing lightly as another moan filled the otherwise quiet room. Her breathing picked up as she grinded herself against her hand and soft whines spilled out of her mouth. From the sound she was making, he could tell it was a most pleasant dream she was having. And selfishly enough, we hoped he was the one in her dream to make her feel all the things she was feeling now. She moaned softly the way she does when he kisses her inner thigh, then she whimpered the way she does, the way she said, only he could make her moan. He wanted to wake her up, but his interest was piqued when her breathing became more rapid and her legs began to shake as her hand moved quicker between her folds. As another soft moan floated and then she came, fuck, she looked so beautiful. Her body trembled as she rolled onto her back, breathing heavily as her hand slipped out of her panties, fingers still wet from her release. His eyes moved up to her face just as she was slowly blinking and waking up.
“Did you have a pleasant dream cariño?” he asked coyly with that devilish half crooked smile on his lips.
She lifted her arms up above her head as she stretched, smiling cheekily and avoiding his gaze.
“Mmhmm” she simply answered, which piqued his interest more because he knew it must have been a really good dream to have her making the sound she had just been making.
“Do you want to tell me about it?” he asked as he caught her arm mid motion and moved her hand closer to his face and wrapped his lips around the same fingers she just moments ago had had between her folds, he licked her fingers clean. A shiver ran down her spine as she looked up at him meeting his lustful gaze. Feeling a bit abashed she couldn’t resist pulling up the covers to try and hide as her mind was flooded with images of her dream she just had. One that made her literally orgasm from it how deliciously hot the dream was.
“Please don’t hide from me mi amor” he pleaded with her and her hands stopped from moving upwards to cover herself, letting the covers fall down somewhere over her hips. “Was I in your dream?” he asked as he intertwined his fingers with hers on the hand he was still holding since licking her fingers clean. Heat creeped up her cheeks as a blush settled there.
“You might have been, yes” she replied as her eyes hungrily roamed over his almost naked body, almost except for the boxers he was wearing. Which at this point looked to be quite constricting against the growing bulge. Slowly licking her lips, her other hand, the one not intertwined with his, reached forward to gently graze over the bulge. Eliciting a low throaty groan from him as he unintentionally bucked into her hand. She leaned in closer to him so close that her lips were now hovering just above his ear, his eyes widened and a smile grew on his lips, as she whispered what had happened in her dream.
“I would definitely like to do that for real,” he said, his voice filled with lust as her hand kept rubbing him through his boxers as he groaned again.
“Then what are you waiting for, cowboy?” she teased, her grip tightening just a second around his now hard cock. “Take me, make me cum again, and let’s see if dream or reality is better” she half mocked playfully, causing him to huff at her insinuation of a dream being better than him. That’s all he needed, as he let go of her hand and both his hands reached out to pull her towards him and he kissed her gredilly. As she gasped from the hunger in his kiss he saw his opportunity and slid his tongue inside her mouth. His hands started to roam over her body hungrily, needing to feel her, be as close to her as only he was allowed.
One of his hands started to descend down from her shoulder where it had been, down over her collarbone, over the swell of her breasts. Lingering there for a moment or two as he cupped the first one into his hand and massaging it, pinching her nipple lightly before moving over to the other, not wanting to leave that one unattended he did the same to the second one. Her breaths came out labored as his lips and tongue seared her skin. He kissed and licked his way down, sucked each nipple into his mouth, one after the other, making them stiff from his touch.
Moving further down, he kissed softly over her belly which he knew would make her moan, and she did. Loud wanton moans escaped her lips as his hands trailed lower. Burning her skin with his rough yet gentle touch with strong hands.
When he reached the hem of her panties he continued down. He could see how wet she was already. Her slick soaking through the fabric of the thin lace. He licked over the fabric, another moan slipped from her lips as her hips bucked uncontrollably against his mouth. A smirk forms on his lips. Her as he looked up at her and a low hum from his mouth vibrated against her aching core. Her hands gripped his hair tightly, holding him close to her as he grasped the hem of her panties, and in one swift move he ripped them off her. The delicate fabric crumbling into shreds. But she couldn’t care less because his mouth was finally on her. His tongue licked up her slit and a string of lewd words poured out of her mouth. Which only seems to egg him on as he slipped one finger inside her. Her cunt clenching around his finger involuntarily. He started off at a slow pace, as he slid his finger in and out of her, his tongue found her clit. Her breathing grew heavier and moans slipped out every time his tongue pushed against her sensitive bud and then he added another finger and curled them inside. He nudged that oh so sweet spot that he knew would have her teetering the edge of release and send her soaring in a matter of moments.
And right on cue, her legs started to shake. Her grip on his hair tightened as she grinded herself into his face, chasing her release. She could feel him smirking and he looked up at her as he continued licking, he hummed against her pulsing core. And with a final push of his fingers inside her and his tongue flicked her clit, she came. Her eyes rolled back into her head as wave after wave of sweet pleasure washed over her. His fingers still pumped inside and tongue still on her, worked her through her release.
When she finally came down from her high she let out a loud sigh of pleasure. A satisfied smile spread across her lips just as he pulled out his fingers and lifted his head from between her legs.
He lifted his fingers towards his mouth and licked them clean, like he had done with her hand after she had the dream turned orgasm. The look in his eyes as he licked her juices off his hand made her pussy clench around nothing, wanting more, needing more. He could see it in her eyes, he looked at her with that crooked smile as he moved to rid himself of his boxers. His cock finally being released she didn't hesitate before looking down at his painfully hard member. He moved up into position between her thighs. He grabbed his cock in one hand and dragged the head between the plump and swollen lips of her cunt. Which drew a moan from both of them. And then he slid in, all the way to the hilt. Eliciting a loud feral moan from her, filling her up completely, the way only he seemed to know how. His hips started to move back and forth. Slow but at the same time rough. His hands had a firm grip on her hips, pulling her closer to him with each thrust. He pulled out almost all the way before slamming back into her with a hard thrust. Not fast. Not yet. Just hard. Just the way she liked it. A string of mumbled words left her mouth as he kept up the slow but devastatingly delicious hard thrusts.
Her eyes locked with his as her hands roamed all over his chest. Pinching lightly at his nipples, dragging out a low throaty groan. She knew he liked it, she could tell by the way his cock twitched inside of her, so she did it again. One of his hands let go of her waist and slid up to her lower belly, pressing gently but firmly down. So that each time he pushed into her he could feel himself from within, where his hand was. He angled his hips a little to find that sweet spot deep inside her, and when he did, her body began to hum. Hum with the promise of another orgasm that she could feel is building up again within. He kept moving his hips back and forth at a mind numbingly delicious pace. Trying to urge him to go faster she moved her hips towards him, eliciting a low breathy groan from within his chest. He knew what she was doing, and he was more than eager to oblige. He plunged inside her again, only this time he picked up the pace. He rammed into her faster and harder. Nudging at her g-spot every time. Her breathing picked up as she could feel herself inching closer to her sweet, sweet release. Her legs started to shake, and her hands reached up to grip his arms. She pulled him closer to her so she could kiss him. Teeth gnashing and tongues battling for dominance. He swallowed her moans as she swallowed his. His thrusts began to falter, the pace slowing down just a fraction as he reached a hand down between them. His thumb landed on her clit with slight pressure and then he circled it. Her breath hitched in her throat, and then she screamed out his name when her orgasm crashed down on her like a tsunami. With each wave of pure pleasure, she clamped down on his cock, making him moan as he tried to keep from spilling into her. Not yet, he grunted under his breath, as he keep slamming into her, over and over until she finally came down from her high. And that’s when he let out a low fuck and he let go, spilling rope after rope of cum into her. Painting her insides with his hot release, he collapsed on top of her. The only sound in the room, their heavy beathing as we laid there, revealing in the post-fuck glow.
Masterlist ✨
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⚠️⚠️ important
I just would like everyone to know that I cracked the character.ai code with Dieter Bravo.. this boy is baaaaad.
#pedro pascal#pedro#pedro pascal fandom#pedro pascal characters#daddy pedro#dieter bravo#dieter x reader#pedro fanfic
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Sick In Bed With Javi Gutierrez <3
Pairing: Javi x Reader
Summary: You and Javi are both really sick, yet Javi take’s the responsibility to care after you every minute of the day.
Warning’s: Fluff only <3
It’s early in the morning and you are fully knocked out from the day before, but you then are woken up by the noise of pots and pans rambling in the kitchen.
You then hear footstep’s coming towards the room, and then you see Javi peeking from the door with a glowing smile from ear to ear.
“Morning love!” Javi say’s as he walk’s over to you in bed
“Are you feeling any better, do you need any Tylenol or Advil?!” He said as he placed the tray of breakfast on your side table with his eyes focused on yours
“No, no I’ll be fine! Thank you so much love, and don’t worry about the kitchen I can clean it all up cause you need to relax. Remember you’re just as sick and you need rest too!” As you said placing your hand on top of his silky hands with a slight smile
“I know I will make sure, but let me get you set up real quick.” He then wrapped his hand around your back to lift you up and started to put pillows behind you to make you able to sit up and eat
“There hopefully that is comfortable enough! Just call me if you need anything I’ll be cleaning the kitchen!” As he let out a chuckle as he started to walk away
You then grabbed his arm pulling him back closer to you.
“Javi… please relax you’ve been on your toe’s all the time now!”
“I-I’m sorry, I’ve just been so worried if you’re in too much pain and that you might not get better.” As he said while looking down at his bunny slippers that you two got to match each other
“JAVI” As you said laughing
“WHAT ARE YOU OKAY?” He said pulling his head back up in shock
“NO NO JAVI, O-ONE SECOND” You then finally laughed it off
“Okay listen, I am perfectly fine and we will get better no matter what. The only way we can get better is relaxing and taking meds, so please just come lay down for an bit!” As you said seeing the worry fade off of his face
“Know what fine, but I’m only staying here for 10 minutes cause I have to clean the kitchen.” He said as walking over to lay down
“10 minutes huh, ya we’ll see how that goes.” You said sarcastically looking at him with a grin
“I’m serious! Trust me I might just try and nap for a bit though.”
“Okay, Go ahead!” You said while turning on the tv
30 Minutes Later
You then realized you fell asleep, but just as you tried to get up to go get water you were locked in a hug from Javi.
You then tapped his shoulder lightly waking him up.
“Look’s like you fell asleep huh?” You said as you looked up at him then dropping your head back into his arms again slightly laughing
“Ughhhh” as he glanced at you letting out smile and pulling you closer to him as he then closed his eyes
Thank you for reading this, i hope you enjoyed! This was a very rushed fic, but I needed to get this off my mind since I need to get more idea’s for other one’s cause I have had not a lot lately! Like’s and comment’s are encouraged and if you want go check out my other fic called Unplanned Stay At Kansas City! Tysm! 🧡
#pedro pascal#jose pedro balmaceda pascal#pedro pascal daddy#pedro fanfic#towomt#javi gutierrez#javi gutierrez fanfic#javi gutierrez x reader#the unbearable weight of massive talent#fluff scenario
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