#agent ortega x f!reader
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For The Night: A Short Story About Reading and Riding
Special Agent Ortega x F!Sex Worker Reader
Pairing: Special Agent Ortega x F!Sex Worker Reader
Word Count: 2.4k
Rating: Explicit (18+; MDNI)
Summary: You might not be one of the “sweet young things” in the whorehouse any more, but a seemingly reluctant special agent helps remind you of your worth.
Content/Warnings: This is basically just smut; some slightly sweet fluff; but mostly smut; unprotected PiV sex; oral sex (M and F receiving); size kink; slight praise kink; sex worker reader; some period-appropriate terminology.
Notes: Look, we all got very excited when one of the Holy Grails of Early Pedrontent was revealed to us today. Some of us (me) were unable to stop thinking about Special Agent Ortega and his dusty, slightly skrunkly late nineteenth-century get-up. And now here I am writing what is essentially PWP for him.
This is very much a one-shot, stream of consciousness fic, so please bear that in mind (as with my Thief story I’m not entirely sure I didn’t dream some of this in a sleepy haze). There may well be errors and typos.
In this story Ortega is called Jerónimo, usually shortened to Jerón.
With love and thanks to @julesonrecord and @lunapascal for being enablers and sounding boards, especially to Lucy for suggesting Ortega’s name!
Divider by @saradika
Nights like this, nights when you’ve got no custom, again, and the rent’s looking unlikely to be paid, you want to storm downstairs and slam down the lid on the saloon piano. It teases and taunts you, like the practiced giggles and moans from the other girls in the rooms along the hall and the bedraggled grunts of drunken men paying for their company.
You read a little more of your book and try to distract yourself from the noise. Strictly speaking, whores aren’t meant to be bookish - but now and again a traveller might leave a volume behind him, and the other girls know to send them your way. Helps keep your mind busy, especially when other parts aren’t.
There’s a commotion on the stairs, and you can hear the madam’s voice as she guides another man - maybe two men? - towards the landing. You overhear the light, youthful laughter of Rosa, one of the house’s most popular girls, as she flatters and teases her client - clients, you assume - on the way to her room.
You hear heavy footsteps stopping outside your door. One of the men, further away now, is teasing the other. “Have some goddamn fun, Ortega! We’re in a fuckin’ whorehouse, we’re not on the clock now!” Rosa giggles in response as the man continues, addressing the madam. “My fine woman, can you set my second gun up with a sweet young thing for the night? Seein’ as I’m already covered.”
The door of Rosa’s room closes and the giggling gives way to silence.
The madam clears her throat. “We do have one girl who’s free, though unfortunately she’s, er, one of our more experienced ladies. I’m sorry, sir, I can see if one of the newer girls is finishing up soon…”
A second voice responds, and you realise it belongs to whoever is standing at your door. “Ma’am, it’s quite alright, I don’t need -“ but the madam interrupts him as she knocks on your door and pops her head in.
She looks you up and down with evident disapproval and hisses at you. “Put that goddamned book away, girl. It’s your lucky night, you’ve got a customer. HURRY UP!”
You shove the book in a drawer and stand up, lightly plumping your hair with one hand and tugging down the front of your chemise to reveal a little more cleavage with the other. You might not be one of the “sweet young things” any more, so you need all the help you can get.
The madam ushers him in and closes the door with a final warning stare in your direction. You try to put on a show, shifting your body into something approximating an alluring stance and looking up to meet his gaze. But there’s something in his eyes and his expression that surprises you enough to snap out of your little performance.
He’s young - mid thirties, maybe, not the inexperienced virgin boys you sometimes get in here but certainly not the old-before-their-time grizzled, abusive drunks you’re increasingly used to. And he’s…well. Handsome. Broad-shouldered, neatly-trimmed moustache, good figure, even in his slightly worn and dusty clothes. His low-slung gun belt draws the eye to narrow hips.
But it’s the eyes that stop you in your tracks. Big, dark, and warm, they look you over with a quirk of his eyebrows as his mouth drops slightly open. As a whole package, he’s handsome; but the face? Lord, he’s pretty.
He stands very still for a couple of moments, looking you up and down, up and down. He moves from the doorway into the room, placing two glasses of liquor on your little nightstand and taking off his hat with a little bow in your direction, which seems endearingly out of place in its formality. He shucks off his jacket and leaves it on a chair.
“What’s your name, sir?” you ask, moving towards him.
The eyes flick upwards to meet yours, a little smile dancing around his lips. “Jerónimo Ortega, miss,” and your heart does a little flip at his politeness, “but most people just call me Jerón.”
You repeat the name to yourself and sit on the bed, patting the space beside you. He sits down, but there’s a nervousness to him that even the rough, strong liquor can’t erase.
“Y’know, Jerón, if you really don’t wanna fuck a woman like me that’s okay. We can just, I dunno. Just talk, or somethin’.”
He shakes his head and looks up at you with a grin. He looks even more boyish when he smiles like that. “It’s not that I don’t want to…do anything, it’s just…”
You reach for his hand, broad and tanned. “I get it. You probably wish you’d got to Rosa first, huh.”
His expression shifts to one of confusion. “No, I…shit. I… I just didn’t think you were going to be so pretty.”
Now it’s your turn to be confused. “Sir, you’re payin’ me. You don’t have to flatter me. Usually I’m the one flatterin’ the man.”
He does a little half-smile, revealing a deep-set dimple that makes you want to reach out and kiss it. He taps his silver agency badge. “You saying an agent of the law is a liar, miss? Because I’m no liar, and you are beautiful.”
You giggle, moving your hand to his firm thigh, starting to trail your fingers up to his crotch. Usually you’d be summoning your best acting abilities around now, to avoid running screaming from whatever sweaty old man was trying to get his dick up, but now? With him? Hell, this could almost feel real.
You lightly run your hand over the bulge that’s visibly straining at his pants, drawing a moan from him, and tug gently on the watch chain that runs across his waistcoat along his middle. You pull him in towards you, fingers entwined with the silver metal, and he reaches up to cup your face in his hands as he kisses you, deeply and hungrily.
“If you wanna wash, there’s a basin over there behind that screen.” you murmur. “Might wanna get undressed, too.”
He nods and disappears behind the screen as you undo your stays and slip out of your skirt and chemise. You take down your hair and try to arrange it as artfully as you can as you lie back on the mattress, naked and hoping to God he likes what he sees.
Jerón emerges wearing only his shirt, unbuttoned to the waist. His hard cock is visible against the light cotton, and you can actually feel your nipples harden at the thoughts of having him inside you as wetness pools between your legs.
“Jesus, fuck, you’re even more beautiful naked. Can I…”
You beckon him with a nod of your head and help him out of his shirt as he joins you on the bed. It’s all you can do not to moan when you see just how big he is, hard length thick and reddened and already leaking pre-come from the tip.
“You ever had your dick sucked, Jerón?” You manoeuvre him down onto the bed, working your way down and between his legs. Hands resting on his thighs, you spread him open a little bit more.
“N-no…fucked women but not that, not…not yet”. He’s already almost rutting the air with his hips.
“Pity, really, cos this is a gorgeous dick. Mind if I do the honours?” He nods frantically as you look up at him through your lashes and guide his cock into your wet mouth. He bucks upwards immediately, mewling with pleasure at the sensation. You hum with satisfaction as you suck him, sending the vibrations through his cock as he whines in response.
You take him out of your mouth for a moment, trailing your tongue up and down the underside of his cock. “Fuck, Jerón, you like this, huh? What do you want me to do, sweet boy?”
“W-wanna… want to fuck your mouth,” his breathing is ragged as he pants the words. “W-wanna fuck you.”
“Good, darlin’. So fuck my mouth and then you can have me as much as you want.” You brace yourself between his legs, a hand lightly stroking the base of his dick, and slide him back between your lips. Jerón cries out as he starts to fuck up and into your mouth, bringing a hand to the back of your head as he thrusts harder and faster.
You take his hand and ease him out of your mouth. “You want to fuck me or you wanna finish there, darlin’?”
“Want…want you.” He’s close, you can tell, and you hope the little breather will give him a little more stamina for when he’s inside you. “Want your cunt.”
You move up his body and rest your heavy tits on his chest. He reaches out to grope them as you grind your hips against him, before rolling onto your back and easing him over on top of you.
You look up at him and open your legs as he gazes down at you, running his hand up and down his wet cock. “Look at my pussy before you fuck it, sweet boy. See what you do to me. Tell me.”
Jerón looks at your cunt as if it’s a lost treasure, bringing his free hand to trail along your slit and feel the wetness that’s been gathering there since you laid eyes on him. “So wet for me. So swollen and wet and fucking warm, sweet girl.” He brings his fingers to his lips and groans at the taste of you before getting down and bringing his face between your legs.
“Is this…okay?” He flashes you a look of those big puppy dog eyes, that handsome face nestled between your plush thighs, and you can’t even find the words. You nod and rest your hand on the back of his head as he brings that pretty fucking mouth to your core. Some men really like this. Some men like this and are bad at it. Some men think this is only for “pansies” and other terms you would rather not think about.
Jerón Ortega is not particularly experienced in this, you suspect, but he’s a natural talent, sucking and flicking his tongue over your clit while using those soft, plump lips to form a tight seal around your wet cunt. You moan and writhe on the mattress as he slips his tongue in and out of you until you come hard on his face, the tip of his nose nudging against your clit as you climax.
He shifts his broad body upwards as you hitch up your legs and reach around to grab his ass and guide his cock inside you. Even after all these years and even with being wetter than you have in a very long time, it’s still a tight fit, his size filling you completely and making you sigh with satisfaction before he’s even moved.
He starts to fuck you quickly, chasing his own high. He leans back a little so he can see you underneath him, tits bouncing as he takes you hard and deep. Sometimes he brings his mouth to your nipples, laving his tongue around the firm peak and the soft skin of your breast, moaning as he does so. You wrap your arms around his broad back and hold on for dear life as he fucks you harder and better than you’ve been fucked in your life, one big hand grabbing your tit so hard you know it’ll leave a mark and the other trying to reach between your legs and rub your clit.
“So fucking beautiful, you are,” he grunts into your ear, “so soft for me, so wet for me, such a tight, pretty pussy.” He looks into your eyes again, and you feel you might explode as those coffee-brown irises look into the very heart of you.
“Jerón…” You usually try to avoid moaning a client’s name, just as a rule of thumb. But this doesn’t feel like work, tonight, and he certainly doesn’t feel like a client.
“Let go, darling, let go, hermosa.”
And you do, with a deep wail you’re certain has been heard all over the whorehouse and in the saloon below and probably as far as the boundary of the town. And you don’t give a fuck who hears you, as you cry out his name while he fucks you through the aftershocks.
The throbbing of your cunt around his dick tips Jerón over the edge, and you feel him come, hard and deep, his warm body dripping sweat onto your tits below. He kisses you hard before he pulls out, then flops beside you on the bed.
You look over at him as he tries to catch his breath. Normally at this stage, the client throws your small fee on the chest of drawers before washing again and dragging on his clothes before heading back to the bar. Normally, you can’t fuckin’ wait for them to go so you can wash their smell and scent and come off you.
Him? You don’t want him to leave. You want him to stay. Tonight. Tomorrow night. Forever.
Your post-orgasmic haze snaps as you jolt yourself back to reality. He’s a lawman, a handsome young professional, just passing through on a job. You’ve been a whore since you were a teenager, a long time in this game. You’ve watched girl after girl win over men who whisk them away to better lives, while you stay here in this shitty little room and wait for someone to pay for your body.
In a few minutes, Jerón Ortega will gather up his clothes, dress, leave the money, and disappear out of your life. Just a gorgeous memory for you to replay in your mind when you have some red-faced toothless rancher on top of you in a few nights’ time.
His breathing is steadier now and he turns to face you. “That was…just marvellous, miss.”
You smile softly and stroke his cheek. “You don’t have to praise me, Jerón. You’re paying, remember.”
A kind of sadness flashes across his face. “Oh. Didn’t feel like a transaction to me, but what do I know, I guess.”
“Didn’t to me, either, but…”
He reaches over and pulls you close to him. “Is it against the rules for me to stay here with you tonight? I - hell, I don’t want to leave you.”
You shake your head. “Stayin’s fine, sweet boy. You sure about this? You don’t want to see if one of the other girls is free?”
He looks at you intently. “Don’t think there could be another girl for me, now.”
#agent ortega#special agent ortega#agent ortega x f!reader#agent ortega fanfiction#special agent ortega fanfiction#the sixth gun#the sixth gun fanfiction#pedro pascal character fanfic#pedrostories#pedro pascal
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— room for two
agent ortega x f!reader
rated e - 3k
tags: pwp/stagecoach sex, reference to sexual harassment, implied mutual pining, flirting, teasing, semi-public fingering, shared tasting, dirty talk
a/n: as a rdr2 enthusiast and with the amount of stagecoach fics I’ve read - as soon as I saw one in the pilot I was like 👀💖
You find your ride back to Brimstone is spent with some very unexpected but very welcome company.
He had made room for himself in your thoughts before, but never quite like this.
Close enough to touch, in the cramped stagecoach.
Just a few moments ago, opting for the smaller of the two had seemed appealing - the cheaper cost, the journey back quicker with only two horses instead of four.
Never thinking you’d be sharing the space.
And now - it feels as if your knees would brush, if you uncrossed your legs. Already trapped within his spread ones.
The morning had been spent two towns over. That carriage shared with other girls, all with their own tasks for Madame. An envelope sealed with bright red wax clutched between fingers as you had clambered out at the first stop - as they had continued on to the next town.
A little bit of stolen time amongst the shops, after your letter had been delivered. The coins slipped to you in thanks spent on something sweet to eat, a new ribbon for the straw hat you had been repairing at home.
The sun creeping past noon, before you had found a carriage to take back. Just managing to settle inside, when you had heard a friendly voice calling from outside.
A hand catching the edge of the door, as the driver had moved to shut it.
“This coach heading to Brimstone?”
The Agent, with his sharp clothes and his dark eyes. You’ve seen him in the Emerald Palace, slipping upstairs to meet with Madame Hume.
The curiosity had sparked even then - unable to keep your eyes off him. Heat rising to your cheeks at the wink sent your way, the caught smile as he followed behind his partner.
His appearance becoming more common. In the past weeks. A little jolt in your stomach when you saw the two of them, standing out amongst the regulars.
Those dark eyes always seeming to find yours, for just a brief moment. But one that lasts, lingering long after he’s gone.
It had been enough to just think about him.
Wishing for another life - one where you weren’t felt up by strangers while serving drinks. For one where you were whisked away by him, instead.
A much different kind of stranger.
There was a fluidity in the way that Agent Ortega moved - folding himself inside the carriage, an easy smile shot your way. Bowler hat discarded, set down on the bit of seat next to him, as he settled in.
“You don’t mind, do you darlin’? This ride is on me.”
And you hadn’t. Not at all.
Now - your eyes drift, across the gray shades of his suit. The sharp vest, the golden chain of his pocket watch where it tucks into a pocket. Everything nearly in place except for the buttons popped at his collar - exposing that extra inch of his throat.
A silver badge glinting against his chest, in the afternoon sun.
With an effort, you tear your eyes away.
But you can still feel the weight of his own exploration. His gaze as warm as the sun that peeks in through the opened windows, settling across you skin.
“Never seen you outside the Palace,” Ortega comments, breaking the silence as the driver cracks the reins. A creak of the carriage as the horses follow - taking you down the main road.
The implication that he’s noticed you at all is not lost - your attention quickly drawn back. Your own smile shy, as his grows wider - pretty curve of his lips.
“Nothing interesting, I’m afraid. Just runnin’ errands, sir.” You shrug, intentionally vague - missing the way his eyes drop to your mouth at the word. The little shift in his seat as you glance out the window, as a rider on horseback thunders by.
“Miss Hume keep you busy?”
It’s an understatement. Running the Emerald Palace was hard work - and combined with a powerful woman and her short temper meant there was rarely a moment to breathe.
Your face must show your answer because he laughs - an arm slinging across the back of the seat, the movement bumping his knee against yours.
“She’s keepin’ us busy, too.” He confides, “Been runnin’ all across New Mexico. But I think we finally found what she’s lookin’ for-”
Agent Ortega catches himself then, his smile apologetic as his hands raise, “Sorry, shouldn’t divulge any more.”
“I understand.” You smile.
Everything behind doors with Madame Hume was hushed - half-spoken whispers and sealed letters, drowned out by the piano downstairs. The only quiet thing about her business.
But you had found yourself leaning forward at his confession - drawn in by him, the secret of the detective’s recent and sudden appearance.
There’s a jolt then - the wobble of the left wheel as it rattles against a deep divot that cracks the dirt road. The speed of the stagecoach has the carriage lurching, a wheel lifting as it crosses the narrow gap.
A little yelp rips from your throat, as you lose your balance. Already off-kilter, drawn in by the almost-reveal of his secret.
Hands catch on your hips as you tip forward. A swift tug as he spares you from slipping into that narrow gap between his knees, the force behind his pull bringing you into his lap.
Chivalrous, in his intent.
A clucking tongue for the driver - a glare as if the uneven road was their fault, as your fingers bite into his shoulders. Wrinkling the fine fabric as you steady yourself.
Acutely aware of the strong arm that curls around your waist. The pull of your cotton skirt where the layers bunch up around your knees - thighs spread wide where you kneel in his lap.
The warm scent of his aftershave, curling over your senses with how close you now are.
“You alright?” There’s concern in his tone, the words stringing together with his worry. His grip still firm, as you blink down at him.
It takes another second - him repeating his question more slowly, with the cock of an eyebrow - before you get your bearings.
“I am.” Your head ducks, “Thank you.”
But you find, that you don’t move.
And neither does he.
His lips part, with a slight upward tilt of his head - a movement that you just begin to mirror, without thought.
Before there’s another uneven rattle - hitting the carriage even more strongly than before - and you find yourself clinging to him, again. Flattened against him, as his face buries in the bare curve of your shoulder.
Your hands ghost across his chest, sliding over the buttons of his vest. Leaning back as heat creeps across the back of your neck, up to your cheeks.
“‘m sorry-” You’re murmuring, the mortification from before, now fully catching up. “So sorry-”
Just now realizing the position that you’re in - how incredibly inappropriate it is, with your knees pressing into his ribs.
With his breath ghosting across your shoulder, so close to the soft curve of your breast.
It has you leaning back - though the hands at your waist tighten, for the briefest of moments.
“No need to apologize, sweetheart.” There’s none of the worry in his expression. The part of his lips as you shift - a short, inhaled breath, “‘s not every day I get a beautiful girl in my lap.”
That has you freezing.
Wide eyes blinking down at the grin that pulls across his face, tugging up one side.
The words - softly breathed out, “You think I’m… beautiful?”
His eyes drag down like they do before - like they’ve done. Slower this time, with the knead of his fingers against the fabric of your dress.
“Thought I made that obvious.”
This time when his head tilts - you meet him.
The press of his mouth against yours. A fluttering in your chest as the soft sound of his groan, as his hands slide around to your back.
One dropping against the curve of your ass, nudging you forward. The slightest inhale of breath before you’re leaning into him, fingers sliding into the dark hair that curls at the nape of his neck.
Your own moan swallowed, as his tongue brushes your lip, licks inside your mouth. The upward tilt of his hips, an unconscious grind of his hips against the layers of your skirt.
A moment as you tug at them - a need to get closer. His hushed “yes” when you settle, when you can feel the stiffening curve against you.
Hands wandering, tugging at the dark tie around his throat, teasing at the peek of skin where the button strains at his chest.
His own tracing up near your ribs, spanning beneath your breasts. Warm through the thin layers of your bodice, and with the next breath - you’re pulling his palm higher.
Ortega groans a curse, sharp on his tongue as he cups your breast, the tips of his fingers brushing against bare skin.
There’s a building heat inside your chest, your tummy. You’ve been touched before, but not like this. Never with such want. Never so openly.
That second thought is what pulls you out - an unconscious glance from over your shoulder. Peeking out at the stretch of road behind you, the trailing path of kicked-up dust.
“Where did you go?” He coaxes - his voice low, strained.
Eyes blown wide, those pretty lips parted again. Your smile shy and embarrassed, your lower lip caught between your teeth.
“I just…” You squirm, “I haven’t done this before.”
His hand drops from you, the dazed look disappearing from his eyes, “We don’t have to, pretty girl. I didn’t know-”
A little laugh then, as you realized - drawing his hand back.
“No.” You smile, “I’ve, um… I just mean here. The stagecoach, it’s so open-”
With the three windows and the driver above. Soft noises already pulled so easily from you - you’re sure if things went any further, there would be no mistaking what was happening inside.
The frown transforms into a knowing smile. Relief lacing his words as his thumb teases against your nipple, the tight pucker of fabric that betrays your need.
A second, before he’s coaxing you off of him. Your disappointment mounting, before he spins you around - only to pull you back against him again.
Your ass snug against his front, with the layers of your dress settling around you. His nose ghosting along the column of your throat, mouth pressing a kiss against your skin.
“How is this, then?” He asks, his voice low in your ear, “I’ll take care of you, and you can keep an eye on the road. See anyone, and I’ll stop.”
A hand flattens across your stomach, lips on the back of your neck. Sending your skin prickling as he inhales, a soft groan bitten back between teeth.
“You’ll… you’ll-” You’re distracted by the sweep of his fingers, the slow rock of his hips. The thudding of your pulse between your thighs, an ache that has them pressing together.
“I’ll make you feel good, honey.” He sighs, “Anythin’ you want.”
It’s tempting. The desire that pools low in your belly. Your thoughts running wild - wondering just what he had in store. What he will give you.
The thought is enough to have you nodding, settling more comfortably in his grip. Perched on his strong thighs, your breath hitching as he starts at your shoulder.
A kiss pressed against the skin, as he works his way up the curve of your neck. A hushed groan as the rock of the carriage grinds him against your ass, his own need evident.
The slow drag of his hand as it rises from your stomach, spanning the space beneath your breasts as his head hooks over your shoulder.
“Christ. Just look at you, darlin’-“
The peek of your breasts above the low neckline. Fingers lifting to play with the pale, pretty ruffles that line the edge - the tip of one stroking against the tight bud just beneath.
Another jostle of the carriage coaxes the dress down further. His thumb slipping up, and then hooking beneath.
Ortega’s groan is soft in your ear. Your hips rocking against his, with the slow sweep of his touch.
“This okay, darlin’?” He husks, before his mouth presses against your neck, “If it isn’t, I’ll get out and walk. Don’t you worry.”
“S’okay.” You sigh, arching into him, “Feels so good-”
With your words, he’s tugging the hem down. Baring you as you send the briefest glance out the back of the coach - but there’s only the sun and sky above you, the rising streaks of red and orange layered in the rocks of the canyon around.
He teases you. A peek of his tongue as it swipes the pad of his thumb - smearing the slick tip across the tight bud, before he’s pinching it.
Your moan is a high, bitten-off sound before you’re catching it. Desperate for more, as you begin to move with him. Meeting the slow rhythm of his hips, your fingers fisting in your dress.
Before you’re catching his hand, dragging it down. Letting him cup you over the layers, where the low ache has settled, simmering.
“Please-” You whine, needing more.
He gives it to you, as he promised he would. Gathering up the layers of your dress, letting them pool around your waist - spreading out the fabric to cover you.
Your bare thighs pressed against his, and it’s now that you can truly feel him. That hard, swollen curve that strains against the fabric. Adjusted to press snugly against your core - an urge rising to touch him yourself, but he’s catching your hand before it wanders far.
“You first, honey.” His jaw grits, “Said I would, and I’m a man of my word.”
Fingers trace over your knee, up over the bare skin of your thigh. Cupping you again - like before. A wide palm against the thin fabric, another needy sound ripped from your throat, that he hushes through a grin.
Before he’s teasing at the waistband of your drawers, then dipping under. Meeting warm, soaked flesh, his own sound unrestrained as your thighs press together.
“Fuck.” His fingers trace your seam, splitting as they part you. Sliding back up until the tip is pressing at a spot that makes your hips jolt. The same tender place that you’ve only found at night, when you’re alone.
“So fucking wet, sweetheart. All for me, isn’t that right?”
Your answering hum is high, as he begins to circle. Turning into a sharp gasp before his hand is covering your mouth, muffling the sound.
“Hush, honey.” He coos, “Don’t want the driver to hear you, now.”
Somehow - the thought is thrilling, now. The thought of an errant moan overheard, the peek of a passer-by seeing the flash of your skin, his mouth at your neck.
But you clamp your teeth together, as his hand drops to curving over your breast again. Holding you to firmly against his chest, the jerk of your hips now stilted as you chase his touch.
The soft sounds caught in your throat, as each breath grows shorter. His soft hums at each one you make, as he teases at your opening.
The tip of a finger pressing inside, before he’s dragging the soaked pad up, pressing just a little harder, a little faster.
“Bet you taste so fucking good. Wish I was between those pretty thighs right now.” He growls in your ear - a thrill at his words, even if you don’t quite understand them.
Clarity coming a moment later, as his fingers slide from you. Shining and slick with you, that heat rising to your cheeks again at the filthy sight.
A little gasp of surprise as he slips them between his lips. Shocked by the groan he makes, as his tongue swirls over them to suck them clean. His other hand catching at your jaw, coaxing you to him.
You can taste yourself on his tongue, when your mouths meet. A sweet tang that wasn’t there before, melting against the heat of his tongue as it strokes against yours.
“Just knew it.” He grits out, before they’re slipping between your thighs again, “Need to get you in my bed, darlin’. Let you be as loud as you want-”
It feels like there’s a spark that’s a bright as the sun, burning inside you. Shining with the wet press of his fingers, those tight circles placed with such precision that it makes your head spin.
Fueled by the thought of getting him alone. Wanting to know more about how he’d taste you, fill you. Wanting to strip away those layers, to find the man beneath the badge.
It’s enough that you’re there, on the edge of something that feels like more than you’ve ever known. The urge to leap rising, knowing that he’s right there with you.
Ortega’s name soft on your lips, breaking as you try to muffle it. His answering hum, low and rough as he keeps the same swirling touch.
The path to that edge rushing towards you, overwhelming as your fingernails sink into the meat of his forearm. The stretch of a finger as it sinks inside you, opening you up.
His hushed murmurs, asking if you’d take him here. How good you’d feel, wrapped around his cock - the one that presses against you with each lift of his hips.
Your whining assent. That you would, that you want him to, want him-
Broken off as the heel of his hand rocks against your clit. The feeling heightened with his finger buried in you, curling and stroking. A second joining, each thrust wet as he mimics his thoughts - finding a rhythm that has you clenching down hard around him.
“That’s it, cariño.” He’s groaning, watching the heave of your chest, the way his fingers move beneath the dress, “Christ, I can feel how much you need this. Let go for me-”
It doesn’t take much more. His touch, his words, rip through you. The thud of the hoofbeats, the creak of the wagon fading out to nothing. A white noise as your head tips back, as your vision blurs.
A ragged sound in your throat muffled as he brings his mouth to your again - the sound of the stagecoach drowning out the wet pound of his fingers as you pulse around him.
The rippling pleasure washing over you, wave after wave. Your thoughts hazy as his hand spans your jaw, keeping you close until you come back down. Leaving you’re draped against him - utterly boneless.
Breathless, until a whistle breaks into your afterglow.
Mechanical - not a person, but the train that you’ve come to know well. The one just outside Brimstone, it’s departure welcoming of your arrival.
The bright glow of your pleasure dims, as you gasp - forgetting that you were supposed to be keeping watch.
“‘s okay, sweetheart.” Ortega coaxes, his fingers still buried in you, “Been watchin’ for you, pretty girl. No one’s lookin’ at you but me.”
There’s ache as he pulls from you, leaving you empty. Helping you put yourself back together - your fingers curling around his as he helps you back to your seat.
The same hand coming to cup himself a few minutes later - a lewd adjustment as the carriage comes to a stop, just outside the Palace.
You shoot him a pained expression, wanting more time with him. To return the favor - all while knowing you’re both expected at the Palace. A look that he shakes his head at, in response.
Opening the door for you like the gentleman he is, instead - lingering behind as he buttons his long jacket closed.
Hiding where he throbs for you. The spot where the fabric of his trousers has soaked through, dampened with his desire.
Almost forgetting his hat, snatched up at the last second.
You have to part now, it would be improper to do so otherwise. But there’s a moment where he lingers - a hand at your elbow, a split second where he pulls you close.
“Got a room over at the Turquoise Sky. Tell me you’ll meet me there tonight, beautiful?”
Murmured out for just you to hear, in the busy streets. Your very own secret, an offering to find out the true meaning of his words - just how well he could take care of you.
Emboldened, you lean close to whisper your answer back to him.
And amongst the crowd - he smiles.
just wanted to write a fun little no-pressure thing, thank you for reading! 💖
#the pilot was all over the place omg but it was fun!#and I am sucker for an 1880s setting so here we are!#agent ortega x reader#agent ortega x you#agent ortega x f!reader#agent ortega#the sixth gun
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A little Halloween visit to my Pedro Boy motel.
Agent Ortega x f!reader, The Thief x f!reader
(My Ortega and Reader from Trust and my Thief from New Year's Eve.)
WC:3.9k
Warnings: Smut. Unprotected P in V sex. Cum eating. Blow job. Literal magical sex. Blood and gore.
Summary: The motel usually makes dreams come true. On Halloween, things get even more magical.
Part of And It Just Keeps Getting Better
Halloween Weekend
Mrs Lord pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. Her eyes were beginning to ache from going over paperwork. It just so happened that Halloween fell on one of their Fantasy Weekends and she was determined to make it memorable. Everything had to be perfect from the themed mocktails to the costumes, oh boy, would there be costumes. The thought of the guys all dressed up was almost too much. The clients would go nuts. Almost entirely lost in her vision she didn't realise that she was being watched. Something was stalked through the house towards her. It took its time, keeping its footsteps slow and gentle so as to not make a sound. It was only when it was right by her paperwork covered bed that she saw it
"I vant to suck your blood. Blah!" The creature announced as it pounced on her.
"Maxwell!" She playfully admonished. "You'll crumple my paperwork!"
"Sorry, Mi Vida. I just can't help it. You look good enough to eat." He managed to get out around his fake fangs.
"To eat, huh?" She raised an eyebrow at him.
That's how Max in his leather posing pouch and little black cape came to be face down between her legs for the next half an hour, thankfully minus the plastic glow in the dark fangs, while she deliberated over the food menu. Once she was satisfied in more ways than one, it was her turn to suck.
"Pathetic fallacy." Ezra mumbled as he looked out of his window.
Gregor lifted his head from the book he was reading. "Huh?"
"Oh nothing. It just seems like the weather has decided to join us in the festive mood. There's a storm coming in."
"I'm going to check the storm shutters just in case those clouds don't blow over. We've got enough food and water if we get cut off. Can you check the radios are all charged and handed out?" Joel asked Dave as he checked his tool box.
"Were you a survivalist in a past life?" Dave ribbed his friend.
"Something like that." Joel muttered heading out.
"Mrs Lord, I took down some of your decorations outside. If the wind picks up it'll rip through them like a tornado in a trailer park." Jack deposited the gathered decorations on the desk.
"Thank you, Jack." Mrs Lord gave him a half smile. It was all she could give him with the stress this weekend on her head.
Everything had been fine, all but one guest had checked in. All the preparations were complete. Then the sky started to darken. The weatherman had called for clear skies, it was unnerving to see anything but. With their location they had prepared for situations like this. They had a backup generator, emergency supplies, they were in a good position should the worst happen.
Mrs Lord let out a steadying breath. "It'll be fine."
Lightning flashed across the sky, it was almost lost against the lights of the reception room. The accompanying thunder was definitely lost against the sounds of the party in full swing. Almost all of the guests were happily paired with a partner for the night. Din, in his Knight costume, had a woman on each arm. Ezra in his best Pirate Captain threads had accepted a client. Oberyn was dressed as a god in golden robes, much to Dieter's delight, who was dressed, fittingly, as a housecat. His 'costume' consisted of a black jumper, black sweats and cat ears. It was almost as half hearted as Jack's Cowboy costume, which consisted of his normal clothing. Even Joel had put in a bit more effort with his pale face paint and neck bolts. He figured Frankenstein's Monster was fitting for him.
As the pairings filed out, ducking under the awning to hide from the driving rain, Maxwell noticed a guest, dressed in old wild west clothing, standing with both the Marcuses.
"Gentlemen." Maxwell greeted them. "What seems to be the problem?"
Pike spoke up "It seems that Mr Ortega here was booked in with Max Phillips but he's nowhere to be found. My client is missing and Moreno's was a no show."
Max thought for a moment. "I know we have one no show. So where is your client? And Phillips?" Max Phillips may be a brash jerk but clients liked him well enough. He always left them in a euphoric daze as they checked out. He didn't mix much with the other employees but he was a busy man. He worked in the city by day and spent his evenings working at the motel. Beyond that no one really knew much about him.
Maxwell did know that Max was very professional and had never missed an appointment. "Let's go look for him."
The short leather skirt creeping up her thighs was definitely out of her comfort zone.
"Come as you aren't night." She reminds herself as she hurries along to the party that she is late for.
Stopping once again to pull down her skirt, a voice from behind you makes her jump. "I think it looks great."
Spinning around, she found the voice's owner leaning in a doorway. His long legs crossed at the ankle as he leans against the frame. Taking in how strikingly handsome he is, she hopes that he's that man she's here to meet.
"Marcus?" She tries.
"And you would be…?" He holds out his hand.
For a second she wondered why he wouldn't already have her name, since the host assured her that he had discussed her desires with Marcus and set everything up for her. Maybe he didn't give him her name to protect her in case she backed out, she reasons. Giving him her name she shakes his hand.
"Come on in." Giving her an easy smile he leads her into his room.
Once inside, Marcus is a little more forward than she expected. His thick fingers dig into her thigh and scalp as he pins her to the wall. His lips don't leave hers until she's breathless. All her insistence on taking things slow was rapidly flying out of the window and into the storm beyond. There was no hesitation left in her when his fingers hooked under her panties to move them to the side. With the first swipe of his fingers across her now throbbing clit, she decides that she wants him now.
Taking a breath to gather her courage she manages to say the word that's been hidden in her fantasies. "Daddy, please make me come."
Marcus lets out a deep chuckle as his fingers breach her, stretching her in the most delicious way. "Don't worry, Sweetness. Daddy will make you come hard."
Marcus made good on his promise, his fingers pumped in and out of her relentlessly until that spot inside her couldn't take anymore. Her walls clenched around him, pulling his fingers in as he pulled her in to kiss her neck. He kisses and suckes on her pulse point so hard that she knows she's going to have marks later. He only stops to lick his fingers clean of her cum before returning to her neck and sucking harder than before. No, not just sucking, biting.
A scream cut through the air. It wasn't unusual to hear screams echoing around the courtyard. It was unusual to hear one so clearly blood curling.
"That came from upstairs!" Pike called before taking the stairs two at a time with Ortega hot on his heels.
The two men had been in the courtyard trying to sort out alternative arrangements if Max Phillips wasn't found. Pike was sure Oberyn wouldn't mind some more company for the evening. Ortega politely entertained the idea but Pike could see he seemed pretty set on Phillips. He thought this odd for a first timer but maybe Mr Ortega was just a man who knew what he wanted.
Pike ran down the narrow balcony zeroing in on the sounds of a struggle.
"You bastard!" A woman screamed before the door to the next room flew open. Out sprinted Max Phillips, the lower half of his face covered with blood. Pike was about to chase him when he saw the woman holding her neck, the red of her tank top darkened.
Ortega ran past "I've got him."
Pike had no other choice than to let the other man handle it as he administered first aid while waiting for Kyle. Joel had given the paramedic a call after hearing the commotion.
Once the woman was safely taken down to the small medical room, Pike tried to make sense of what he'd seen.
"He bit her?!" Moreno was stunned even with the evidence in front of him.
"It looks like." Pike sighed, still in disbelief.
"Was that some sort of kink he had? Did he take it too far?" Moreno mused out loud.
Pero had joined them when he heard the fuss. He muttered something under his breath in Spanish that only Moreno caught.
"You can't be serious." Moreno huffed a laugh. "A vampire?"
"We never saw him in the daytime. Or saw him eat or drink. His clients always checked out acting rather peculiarly. I have travelled to many places with such myths and seen things that I cannot explain."
Before either Marcus could react to Pero, a man approached them from the shadows. "Your well travelled friend is right. You have a vampire in your midst."
The man was very well dressed. He had on a white dress shirt, fastened with an expensive looking pair of cufflinks complimenting the even finer watch on his wrist. He wore a black bow tie that matched his vest in colour. Black dress pants and designer shoes adorned his lower half and the outfit was completed by a leaf pattern embroidered overcoat.
"Forgive me. I am Señor Ladrón. I have been searching for your vampire for a while. He had left quite the trail of victims." The man informed them as casually as if he had just told them to expect rain.
"Well, you found him. What do we do now?" Joel stepped out of the first aid room, closing the door behind him to give the recovering victim some privacy.
"We kill him." Señor Ladrón stated simply.
This seemed to be a good enough answer for Joel who simply nodded. Pero seemed satisfied too. Both Marcus's had seen some weird things during their time in law enforcement but a vampire would be pushing it. Nevertheless there was a bad guy on the loose and it was their job to stop him. The men paired off. Joel with Pero, Pike with Moreno. Señor Ladrón excused himself to gather some equipment from his car.
"Do you think we should be letting him walk around here by himself? The guy thinks vampires are real." Moreno asks Pike as they make their way through the motel.
"Max is my biggest concern. I'll have Din go check on our visitor." Pike edged his way around to the part of the motel that was under development.
The only light was the glow from the well lit side of the motel, the full moon and the occasional flash of lightning. Even Pike had to admit with all the vampire talk and it being Halloween night, the whole setup had him a little rattled. A little. That must be why he could have sworn for a second that he saw a light on in the last room on the block, even when they found it completely empty.
The cloaking spell worked perfectly as you watched the Chef and Superhero take a look around the room before walking off the way they came.
It didn't take much to lure the vampire into a trap. It was thirsty in more ways than one, so with your blood pumping and all that flesh on display, how could he refuse to follow you into one of the rooms that were closed for refurbishment. The spell you had cast on the room took effect almost immediately. The well-dressed vampire swayed on his feet. With a little support from you, he made it to the bed.
"What the fuc…?" Was all he managed before he was out like a light.
Studying his profile in the light of the full moon you thought it was a shame to kill someone so handsome. "Sorry, Gorgeous. I promise it's for a good cause."
Straddling him, you pressed the tip of the cedar stake to his chest lining up it before preparing to raise it. A flash of lightning was followed by the boom of the door being kicked open.
Ortega ran into the room, grabbing the stake in your hand. "Carrying out the ritual without me?"
"Just like you tried the last one without me." You snatch the stake back.
"I was going to include you but you seemed a little preoccupied."
"For the last time. That was a business dinner!"
"He didn't seem to think that. Even when I made it clear to him."
"What? That's why he reneged on the deal!"
"If he couldn't handle a six shooter aimed at his balls, he had no place in business."
A scream of frustration left you. "Aren't you bored of this?! A hundred and fifty years we've been at this. You betray me. I betray you. One hundred and fifty years and we're still both so stubborn that we can't trust each other. We can't love each other." You feel the weight of your words slip from your shoulders.
Ignacio Oretga usually presented an intimidating front unless he needed to turn on the charm. There was exactly one person and one person only who could bring out the soft demeanour he took on now. "Darlin', there hasn't been one second of the last a hundred and fifty years that I haven't loved you. Now trust is another thing entirely…" he grinned.
"Don't laugh at me." You pout.
Ignacio leans in to kiss your bottom lip poking out. "I'm not laughing at you. I would never!"
"Yes, you would!" You grin back at him, your fingers fiddling with his lapels. "I love you, too."
The first kiss between you in a decade sparks the old fire between you. The reason for you being in this motel is nearly forgotten as Ignacio lifts you as close to his body as he can. He's eager to refresh his memory of your body against his.
"Wait, My Love. We need to finish the ritual or our hundred and fifty years end here."
Ignacio's fingers lace between yours around the stake. "Allow me." He slips the wood from your hand.
Ignacio lines the stake up just as you did and prepares to raise to deliver the killing blow. Just as it had with you, the door bursts open. A familiar figure is back lit by the lighting outside from the worsening storm.
"Thief." You spit in its direction.
"Oh, I'm so much more than that." He laughs. "For example, tonight I'm a trader."
"What is it you want to trade?" Ignacio's eyes narrow on him.
"The vampire and the secret to securing a few more years of life for you both, in exchange for allowing me to feast on the energy from the ritual."
"But we have the…" You trail off as you see that the vampire is gone and all that remains on the bed is a faint mist. The potent tang of magic settles on your tongue.
"When you say 'feast on the energy'...?"
Ignacio presses, keen to get rid of your uninvited guest.
"It's simple. To increase the longevity of the ritual you must make love in the blood of the creature rather than just bathe in it. I simply wish to watch and feed off your passion." The Thief sat himself in a chair at the end of the bed as if the whole thing was a done deal.
"You're an Incubus?" You wonder aloud.
"Among other things." His brown eyes glint red with amusement.
Turning to Ignacio, you could see him weighing up the deal.
"We've done more exotic things in bed." Your lips quirk up at the memory. "Prague."
"Hmm. California in the 70's." Ignacio smiled, stepping closer his hands finding your hips as if he was engaging you in a dance.
"Amsterdam." You swayed to the old melody supplied by your memories.
"So we are in agreement?" The Thief snapped his fingers and the vampire reappeared.
"Yes." You say in unison with Ignacio.
Neither of you so much as glance at The Thief as you let muscle memory take over until the two of you are naked. A wispy tendril of red mist winds its way to you from the hand of The Thief. It licks up your bare skin increasing the sensitivity of every nerve it touches. When it pushes between your legs it almost brings you to orgasm in an instant. Ignacio seems similarly affected as his cock flushes red and weeps.
"Just a little gift from me. For being so gracious in accepting my offer." The Thief undoes his belt as he speaks before cupping the large bulge below it.
Ignacio presses a single kiss to your bare shoulder, it's enough to make your knees weak. With shaking hands the two of you manage to wield the stake. The weight of the two of you tumbling into bed pushes the stake into the vampire's heart. An explosion of thick, crimson blood covers you as you sink down into the bed. Ignacio is inside you before you know it, filling you with his cum as your convulsing body milks it from him.
The Thief moans in contentment as he strokes himself through his clothing. "Again."
The tang of copper rolls over your tongue as Ignacio kisses you. It takes only a fraction longer for the two of you to come this time. Your heels dig into the meat of his pert ass as you draw him deeper. His warm release drips out on the bloodied sheets below. He seems to have even more for you than usual.
"Again." The Thief groans as he starts to stroke his now bare length.
Ignacio fights through the fog of his mystical arousal to position you where he wants you. He now has you on all fours. After all these years there is still something primal about spearing you on his cock from this angle. He manages to last a little longer this time. Enough that he gets to enjoy the arch of your back as he pulls on your hair and the jiggle of your ass as he smacks into it. His cum gushes into you as he stutters out a groan. Each climax feels electric. He wants to fuck you over and over. Not just because of the spell but to make up for lost time. How had he been so stubborn as to miss so much as a day with you?
Gripping the bed frame you try to compose yourself as the last orgasm fades. Each one hits like plunging into the ocean. It hits hard before consuming you in its depths. Making the mistake of looking up you see The Thief with his head thrown back in pleasure. His hips chase his hand as his fucks into his fist. The sight of him so freely chasing his pleasure has you coming again.
Ignacio's hand lands firmly on your ass cheek. "I forgot my naughty girl likes to watch. Thief!"
The Thief still carries on jerking his cock as he acknowledges Ignacio.
"Why don't you join us? My wife has a very talented mouth." Turned on by his own words, Ignacio Jackrabbits into you hard until he comes again.
The Thief moves with inhuman speed pressing the tip of his cock to your lips before you realise he even left his chair. "Would you like a taste?" He strokes your cheek gently until you open up for him.
The precum gathered on his slit is like nothing you've ever tasted before. You find yourself sucking and bobbing your head in earnest just to get more. When Ignacio starts snapping his hips into you from behind, the force causes you to gag on The Thief's swollen head. The sound makes Ignacio throb inside of you. His wife choking on a cock while he fucks her from behind prompts another load of his seed to fill up your warm cunt. The warmth of him triggers another orgasm from you. Whatever this magic is, you want more of it. Not just for the sex but for how your husband feels inside and against you. Ever touch is heightened. You couldn't get any closer to him than you are right now. It soothes the ache in your heart from spending years without him.
The Thief utters something in an unrecognisable language as you swallow around him. He then pulls out with a slick pop. "I will still let you have a taste but I'm afraid I might be too rough while I chase my end."
The Thief proceeds to wrap his hand around his thick girth.The noise of his balls slapping against his fist while he groans deeply is enough to even affect Ignacio. Flipping you over, he mouths at your blood soaked tits. Sucking on each nipple until it aches. Each suck and bit builds another climax it only takes his fingers pressing to your clit for you to achieve it. You watch in fascination as Ignacio's cock spurts another load across your thigh without even being touched. Running your fingers through it, you greedily stuff them in your mouth.
"I've missed you so much." You pull your husband in for a kiss that evolves into a slower pace of love making. Slower, but no less satisfying as you both come twice in each other's arms.
The laguid, comfortable satisfaction that The Thief drinks down reminds him of his own love at home waiting for him. He's almost full and his cock aches for release. He starts to withdraw his magic from them. It's harder than he anticipated as they were already so much in love and lust. He finally does so as Ignacio has his wife's legs spread wide in the air to thrust impossibly deep inside her. Reaching out, he grips her ankle to steady himself as he prepares to finish himself off. He's so close, he can feel the heat in his spine. Looking down, he watches Ignacio's thick cock splitting his wife's tight pussy open. Her folds glisten with both their releases. Her puffy, pink cunt looks throughly fucked still it pulls her husband's cock deeper. He can feel their love and passion fueling the spell. The magic in the air ripples over his skin, his nipples tighten just before his balls do. His fist works incredibly fast to pump his overdue spend over the face of the beautiful woman underneath him. As he covers his face, her husband paints her insides. The scream that rips from her leaves her mouth open to catch The Thief's seed. She rides out her climax on his husband's cock while licking The Thief's cum from around her mouth. The Thief thinks that he got the better end of the deal. As the heavy energy in the room lifts, The Thief prepares to leave.
All the years you'd seen the man as nothing more than an annoyance. Someone who turns up now and again when your agenda's crossed. Now you were seeing just how powerful he was.
"Wait. That was…" All coherent thought leaves your brain as you look up at your husband practically glowing. Your eyes trace a bead of sweat from his forehead down the curve of his beautiful nose before dripping onto your bare chest.
The Thief chuckles. "If you think I know how to celebrate Halloween, wait until you see how I celebrate New Years."
Author's Note: I had a completely different vibe planned for this one but I'm just so happy to have finished something after going through a dry spell.
Tags: @kirsteng42 @prolix-yuy @thegreenkid2 @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed @aynsleywalker @mswarriorbabe80 @rise-my-angel @adancedivasmom @kinda-nobody @movievillainess721 @munsonownsmyass @mandoloriancookie @faceache111 @elegantduckturtle @manazo @simpingcowboy @pedrit0-pascalit0 @yourcoolauntie @pedrostories @geekrenaissance @its-nebuleuse @sherala007
#pedro pascal character fanfiction#agent ortega#agent ortega x f!reader#the thief#the thief x f!reader#max phillips#maxwell lord#marcus pike#marcus moreno#joel miller#kyle hartley#mojo dojo casa sex house#the motel
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legally binded - 2
Jenna Ortega x F!Reader
masterlist | series mast. ♣ prev part | next part
Chapter 2: Lakers, Headlines… New York?
Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.
Warnings/Tags: dual pov, famous!reader, actress!reader, mentions of substances, intoxication, mature language, real people. (do not read if any of these make you uncomfortable)
(this is all fiction!)
Note: part 2 of legally binded! I hear yall and I see the comments! This will be a series, got a lot of ideas for this one. But of course, I am open to hearing what you guys think and want to see! A little bonding moment for R and Jenna 😮💨
Word Count: 6.3k+ (lol sorry, may have gone overboard!)
“So… what does this mean, exactly?” Jenna asks for both of you.
“We’re gonna make the two of you the talk of the town. And hopefully get people to back off on the allegations that Jenna is difficult to work with and that Y/N is entering her Justin Bieber phase — and not the good one.” Your PR agent, Liv, purses her lips.
Jenna can’t help the snort that leaves her lips, awkwardly coughing to hide it. But you catch it anyway, throwing her a glare.
“Difficult to work with huh?” You speak up — in faux interest. “Not hard to see why.”
This time Jenna is the one glaring at you. “You don’t even know me.”
“You don’t know me either.” You huff.
“Enough!” Jake yells. Anger steadily rose in the man’s bloodstream.
You and Jenna flinch at his loudness. Sliding down the chair, you feel ashamed again; ignoring Jenna’s piercing glare.
Liv is sighing but opts not to add fuel to the fire. “It’s going to take a few hours to get the paperwork and contract drafted —but once it’s done we’ll have it sent over to you. For now, get to know each other, I don’t know.”
You shoot Liv a scowl. She was making this already awkward situation so much worse.
She catches your look, sighing, “Just–pretend this is another job and you’re new castmates. Anything please. ” She rolls her eyes, already fed up with what disaster this morning has been.
“You can do that, right?” Liv crosses her arms, staring at you two in question.
“Yes.” Jenna mumbles.
“Mhmm.” You hum lazily, changing the subject. “Can we tell people? That this isn’t real?”
Liv glances at Jake and Sarah sharing a silent conversation. They nod at each other. “If they sign an NDA. Only family, your team and us. This cannot leave the room.”
You feel pale. You couldn’t even tell the people around you about this fake relationship without binding them to a contract? Suddenly, the situation starts to feel more real; the carpet of delusion being pulled from under you.
You’re standing up, pushing the chair back with a loud scrape that rings terribly against your ears. “I need some air.”
“You’re really leaving in the middle of a meeting?” Jenna questions with a snip, crossing her arms.
“Sorry your highness, I got better places to be. Liv you can send the contract to my assistant. Ortega, wish I could say it was a pleasure to meet you… but well.” You trail off, shrugging.
Liv and Jake are fuming red in the face at your words, but you were still hungover and the comedown was begging to wreak havoc – your irritation getting harder to restrain.
Jenna’s face scrunches, offended. You walk away, not bothering to listen for a response.
“There’s no way I can work with her…” You catch it anyway.
●●●
“I mean can you believe what they’re asking me to do!” You pace up and down your living room.
“Oh come on, I don’t buy the allegations that she’s difficult, you know they love to tear women down when they get their come up.” Link reasons tapping on his phone.
“I mean how can this face be rude?” He holds up a picture of Jenna at the SAG awards and you furrow your brows because you don’t remember seeing her there — you might have been late.
You were just nominated anyway. So you pulled a Beyoncé and only showed up for your category.
“Maybe Jenna’s not so bad?”
“Quit it.”
It was now mid-afternoon and the battering Californian sun was shining bright above clear skies and through your floor-to-ceiling windows. You bought this house in the Palisades for the peace it provided you. Not too far from central L.A. but still tucked away enough for a moment of solitude with a life like yours.
It was your own version of a sanctuary – like a home should be.
“Okay, that sounds crazy, I agree. But dude, you fucked up. Big time.” Your long-time friend Link said.
You and Link grew up together and when you got your come up, best believe you took your best friend with you. You offered to help him out while he lives with you as you achieve your dreams but ever the stubborn guy, he refused. Only agreeing to move to Los Angeles with you if he works as your assistant to earn his keep.
He’s a good guy like that.
Since then, he’s been by your side. Through every disappointment, bad news, great news, red carpets, and movie premieres. You couldn’t do this job without him.
He’s like your brother.
“I know!” You groan, dropping to the couch. Why the hell did you let your designer choose these couches? They were stiffer than a plank of wood.
“Look at this article online, 2-time Grammy winner and Academy Award Nominee, Y/N L/N’s fall from grace? Sin City indeed! The actress blacks out at a Vegas strip club! Click here to see exclusive mugshots.”
“They’re selling my fucking mugshots?” You lift your head above the headrest horrified, watching Link sit across the room on a bar stool reading his phone.
“I’m pretty sure they’re public domain.” He refutes.
Falling back, you groan louder – hiding your face behind your palms.
“I don’t see how you have a choice, buddy.” He sighs, placing his phone on the bar top.
“There has to be another way. Why can’t I just run away? I’ll fly back home for a couple of weeks, and let all of this shit die down. It’s worked before.”
“Yeah, I told Jake and Liv you’d say that.” He rolls his eyes, walking to you. “I don’t think you can run from this one, Y/N.”
The softness in his voice has you sighing in defeat. He’s right, you know he’s right. This wasn’t just some tiny mistake you can brush under the carpet like all the other ones. This was serious.
You got arrested. For blacking out with someone who had drugs on them. In a strip club, no less.
What a mess.
Something like this could seriously hurt your career. You could lose roles, relationships, connections, brand deals – the blood, sweat, and tears you poured in; everything you worked so hard for – gone.
“I know… Doesn’t make me wanna do it more though,” You mumble, distantly staring at the high ceiling.
He chuckles, “I know bud. But this is what we signed up for, right?”
You frown. It’s what we signed up for.
It’s a mantra that you have adopted in all your years as a working performer. It certainly wasn’t the most comforting and loving thing to say, but it works because it’s true and there’s no greater motivator than a slap in the face to reality.
You much preferred tough love anyway.
“Right.” You mutter.
“Come on, I think Jenna’s manager just sent me the signed contract, they’re just waiting for your signature.” He walks off to his office.
You close your eyes, letting the sun warm you up through the glass panes. A few moments pass until Link comes back out with a tablet and pen. “Sign here, under Jenna’s signature.”
She has pretty handwriting – you note as you sign the electronic document.
Call it weird but you had a thing for people with neat handwriting, steady hands and all that.
But then you remember who the professional signature belonged to and forced yourself to snap out of it.
“Did you even read it?” He arches a brow.
“That’s what lawyers are for.”
He scoffs, “Okay, superstar. It basically says what you and Jenna need to do. Public spottings at first, then dates, appearances at each other's events. Maybe posts on social media, but the idea is to be discreet – we can’t have it seem like we’re using this to scrub away the Vegas incident.”
“But that’s exactly what we’re doing,” You sigh.
“Yeah, but they don’t know that. And it’s your damn job to make sure they don’t ever find out either.”
You rub your forehead; a headache beginning to form. Not sure if it was from the hangover or from all this PR mess.
“Anways,” He takes the tablet out of your hands. “I’ll send these over to Liv. Now as for you. Go upstairs, take a shower because you smell horrendous and then put on what your stylist picked out.”
Wrinkling your nose, you ask, “What, why? I literally just got back, I already have to go out and show my face? The paparazzi will hound me.”
“We have to beat the Vegas headline with a bigger story, so you need to be seen with Jenna ASAP. That means out for a late lunch at a well-known spot downtown. You have to act like the news doesn’t bother you – like you’re moving past it.”
“Who goes out for late lunch?”
He sends you a pointed look.
“I’ll be upstairs…” You mumble, dragging your feet as you ascend the steps.
●●●
You tap your fingers on the steering wheel, glancing up at the modest house through your sunglasses.
A mid-modern century house in Glendale. Not where you pictured her to live but whatever. Her front yard was bare but professionally trimmed. No signs of any plant life that made the space look a little… dull. The only signs of life in the house was the humble SUV that you assumed belonged to the young actress.
Your tapping grows impatient the longer you wait.
As if staring harder at the front door will make the actress come out faster. Another five agonizing minutes pass – you seriously consider pulling away to go home and sleep off this hangover but Link stood a good half-foot taller than you.
He’d lock your ass out of your own home.
Eventually, the door opens and the short brunette walks down the driveway in confident strides. Dressed in jeans, combat boots and a cardigan; those headphones around her neck, again. Somehow, she looked consistently gothic and you pondered if she really was like her character in real life.
You see her scan your Mercedes-AMG GT3 for a moment before pulling the passenger door open; sliding into the cushy seats. “Nice car.”
You blink, “Thanks… you sure took your time though,”
You couldn’t stop the slight attitude that accompanied your words.
She gives you a sharp glance, “why didn’t you just ring the doorbell?”
“You had to unlock the gate to let me in, you knew I was waiting outside.” You huff, staring at her back.
“Then would have waited in the living room if you had knocked. What difference does it make?” She shrugs.
“That’s not the poi–” You gruff but stop, inhaling a deep breath. The pounding in your skull was begging for you to cool down.
“I think I much preferred waiting in the car… alone.” You whisper the last bit then shoot her a sarcastic glance; shifting the gear in reverse.
You don’t bother to check if she had her seatbelt on as you aggressively pull out her driveway; leaving skid marks on the pavement.
She jerks forward at the sudden movement. “Shit– a little warning next time?” She glares bracing herself on the dashboard.
“Hands off the leather,” You bite as you pull off her street and to the restaurant Link sent you the directions to.
She scoffs. “My driveway!”
●●●
“Table for 2 under Ortega? Please follow me, can I be the first one to say how delighted we are that you two decided to dine here.” The host enthused a little too much.
“It’s our pleasure.” Jenna answers politely.
You plaster a tight-lipped smile keeping quiet; sliding a modest hand on Jenna’s back when he leads you past other patrons and to a secluded table – heads already turning in your direction. Jenna jumps, sending you a menacing glare and for a moment you feel slightly scared by the fire in her eyes – dropping your hand immediately.
Okay, no touching. Got it.
“Here we are, the best seat in the house. We have complementary champagne on the table to start your evening. We’ll give you a few moments to get settled,” He sends a tight smile causing his wrinkles to show – definitely trying too hard but you’d never say no to free alcohol.
“Thank you,” You bid, pulling a chair out for Jenna.
She walks to claim the opposite chair, assuming you’re taking the one you pulled out. But she stares as you stand behind the open chair, awkwardly. Only then did she seem to realize that the seat was for her.
Raising her brows, she looked a little surprised but wordlessly and a bit awkwardly (she sends a tight-lipped smile) sits over to the chair allowing you to push it in for her, before taking your own seat across.
The first thing you grab is the bottle of champagne and the flute.
You miss Jenna’s tracking eyes as you pour a hefty glass. “Is that really the best thing for you to have, especially after last night? Also, it’s like 4 PM.”
“I didn’t know you were the alcohol police and it’s 8 PM somewhere.” You take big gulps of the champagne, savouring the way it burned but also felt cool on the way down.
“Trust me, I’m not. But my ass is on the line here too and there are people watching.” She grits out the last part, signalling with her eyes. You glance up catching two girls from another table with their phones up, no doubt taking pictures and recording you and Jenna.
Looking away, you place the glass flute down, sitting back in your seat with a slump. “Fine…”
“When are you going to take this seriously?” She whispers, tone: sharp.
“I am taking this seriously,” You fight to keep your face impassive knowing there are eyes on you both.
“No, you’re not. You couldn’t even sit through the meeting this morning and now you’re acting like a child. Might I remind you, we’re in this mess because of you.”
You clench your jaw, trying your hardest not to blow up in this fine establishment.
“I’m the reaso—“
“Are we ready to order?” The waitress cuts in.
“Yes, we are.” Jenna turns to her with that large, sweet smile that sells millions.
●●●
‘New Gal-Pals in Hollywood, Y/N L/N and Jenna Ortega spotted out for lunch’
It was now the following day after your ‘lunch date’ with Jenna and you wish to say it only got better as time went on but that would be a lie. You two did not get along – at all. How was it possible for your management to find the one person on this planet that you just couldn’t get along with.
You know difficult, you can handle difficult. You’ve worked with the likes of Shia Lebeouf, Gweneth Paltrow, Michael Bay… just to name a few. You’ve had your fair share of difficult colleagues.
But this girl? She’s something else.
“Gal pals? Really?” Your nose scrunches in distaste.
“No wait, this one’s better! Wednesday star Jenna Ortega supports new bestie, Y/N L/N amid Vegas arrest.”
“Stop.” But Link’s loud laughter overpowers you.
“Oh! We got one that’s different, Trouble-maker, A-lister, Y/N L/N, will drag down rising-star Jenna Ortega!”
“Okay, that’s just bullshit.” You pique up.
“Rising star?” Jenna voices in disdain.
“Enough!” Liv’s voice echoes from your laptop speaker. “This isn’t the headline we wanted.”
You roll your eyes, scanning the candid photo of you and Jenna sitting at the restaurant.
The images look tame enough and can definitely be interpreted as just two friends out for a bite. News outlets don’t buy it, but the internet is already freaking out; spewing out unsolicited opinions on this new pairing. Some think you two are just friends, some think it’s a date, others think it’s for a movie role.
“I thought I did a good job,” Jenna speaks up on the other line of the Facetime call.
“Clearly not…” You mumble, but she catches it anyway, rolling her eyes.
“We need to up the ante, this is not good enough.” Liv sighs and you can hear the trepidation through the call.
“Like what?”
“There’s a Lakers game tonight and you two are making your first official appearance.” She grins with mischief.
“Lakers?” Jenna rouses, sounding excited.
“How would they interpret that differently than before?” Shaking your head.
“I got a plan already, darling. I have a guy in TMZ who’s going to break the first official headline that you two are in the ‘getting to know each other’ stage. Which is where you two come in… after the game headlines of your guys’ date night will be the number one trending topic.” She explains, eyes lighting up in excitement.
Liv loves to lay out her plans to whoever was willing to listen — you’re already tuning her out.
You are sure her plan is genius like she says it is.
“Are they versing someone decent, at least?” You ask tiredly. When were you going to get some time to yourself?
“Celtics.”
“I’m in.”
●●●
“Do you really have to wear sunglasses indoors? Everyone knows we’re here.” Jenna whispers from beside you.
“It’s part of the look.” You retort, sliding down the foldable chair. Why are courtside seats so uncomfortable for all the money I’m paying?
“What look.”
“We got two stars in the Lakers house tonight! Everyone, please give a warm welcome to Y/N L/N and Jenna Ortega!”’ The announcer booms through the stadium speakers.
Looking up at the jumbotron, you and Jenna are plastered big and bright on the screen. You flash a dazzling smile and force your body to untense – ignoring Jenna’s quip.
You embrace the loud cheers and applauds, waving and sending the camera that dazzling smile you have mastered. Jenna copies your movements.
Eventually, the camera pans away from you two and you finally feel like you can breathe again.
“God, I think my eardrums ruptured.” She complains, clutching her earring clad-ears painfully.
You laugh, “Oh come on, you don’t have people shouting for your attention at you at every turn?”
She frowns, shaking her head, “Not at this level… I like to think I still have some anonymity.”
Snorting, you say, “Yeah well, just wait. That’ll all be gone — so enjoy it while you can.”
You don’t see her frown deepen because you spot a familiar face. “Look who’s in the house!”
“Hey!” You stand briskly. Lebron James comes barreling over in large steps; greeting you with a hug and a pat on the back.
“Feeling ready for tonight?” You ask, smiling up at the athlete. Being a big name in Hollywood definitely came with nice perks like knowing world-renowned athletes.
As much as you complain about your life – this is certainly a perk you can’t deny.
“You know it! We’re gonna mop the floors with your lil Celtics team.” He smirks making you laugh.
“Okay, save the trash-talking for the court... This is Jenna by the way.” You move to the side to reveal Jenna sitting; watching the two of you with a flabbergasted look on her face.
“Nice to meet you, Jenna. My kids loved Wednesday, I think my daughter might dress up as you this Halloween.” He jokes; shaking her hand.
It was quite an amusing sight to see Jenna crane her neck to meet the basketball player’s eyes. And you really tried your hardest not to snort when her tiny hands slide into his gigantic palms – her upper arm practically disappearing in his grasp.
They continue talking for a few more moments before the basketball player eventually bids his goodbye to continue warming up.
“You’re friends with Lebron James?” She asked in disbelief when you sit back down.
“Yeah, is that surprising?” You arch a brow.
“Yes?” She asks like you were stupid for even asking.
You chuckle. “Well, now you know.”
“Also… a Celtics fan, really? That’s just disgraceful.” She shakes her head.
You scrunch your face in faux annoyance, puffing your chest proudly, “Hell yeah the Celtics! We’re gonna wipe the court with your little Lakers in their own house.”
“Don’t let people hear you say that, you’ll be stoned,” She laughs heartily.
For a brief moment, you watch as she shakes in laughter at her own joke – unable to fight the infectiousness of her laugh. Her bangs shake with her movements as she attempts to hide her smile behind her hand.
Were you guys getting along? Nah, impossible.
“I’ll just use you as a shield.”
“I’m like five-foot, I don’t think I’ll be much help.” She snorts.
“Pocket-sized shield – makes travelling easier.” You shrug, smirking.
She shoots you a side-eye but you see the smirk she tries to hide from you.
Eventually, the national anthem is sung and tip-off begins. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying yourself right now. After the weekend disaster in Vegas, all you wanted to do was sleep away your fuck-ups. But this… isn’t so bad.
Jenna seems to have loosened up and allowed herself to enjoy the game.
You cheer enthusiastically when the Celtics go on a 12-0 run in the fourth quarter.
The score is 94 - 90, with the Lakers in the lead. You were standing now, your concession drinks and snacks forgotten under your chair. The energy in the stadium is infectious as everyone cheers for their respective teams.
“This is what I’m talking about, now we got a game!” You clap loudly, yelling.
“$100 Lakers win this one.” The sweet voice shouts over the crowd.
You turn, grinning. “That’s it? $1000, Celtics win.”
The quiet contemplation is burning bright in her eyes, but eventually, she gives in extending her hand. “You’re on.”
Somehow, your grin stretches wider when she slides her hand in yours to seal the deal. “I can’t wait to be a $1000 richer.”
“In your dreams,” she clicks her tongue, focusing on the court.
“Come on ref, that was a foul!” She shouts at the checkered-shirt man as he runs past you.
She’s not looking at you but you find yourself unable to look away from her.
Granted, you barely knew anything about Jenna before meeting her yesterday. But you think you like this laid-back version of her more than the one you met at first.
A whistle-blowing breaks your staring before it becomes too obvious.
Eventually, the game goes into overtime with the score being 104 - 104 when the Lakers gets both free throws in. You’re practically shaking in excitement as you watch from courtside.
You are bent over, hands on your knees like a soccer mom watching their kid get a penalty kick. You miss Jenna snapping a photo of the court with you bent over in the corner of the picture.
“Come on, Tatum!” You shout, a vein on your forehead protruding.
“Did you say a $1000 richer?” She mocks, using your words against you.
“Don’t go on a victory lap yet,” You stand as the last time-out is called, “The score’s even and there’s still 5 seconds on the clock. It’s anybody's game right now.”
When the whistle blows signalling time-out is over, you are tense again. Jenna seems to share your sentiments as she absentmindedly grabs your jacket when the Celtics shooting guard walks behind the line to inbound the ball.
Anticipation getting the best of her.
You ignore the touch – unsure if you wanted to pull away or never move your arm again.
“Shit!” You yell when someone on the Lakers intercepts the Celtics attempt to inbound — sloppily passing it to another player in gold and purple.
3 seconds remaining on the clock and a fast-break on the Lakers side ensues; green jerseys struggling to keep up.
“Schroder tips the Celtics inbound and manages to pass it off to Thompson, to James! James with a hail mary from half-court with 2 seconds, will he make it!” The announcer exclaims.
It was like the movies when everything goes silent and somehow you see everything in slow motion. You watch as the ball spins high above in the air with the powerful throw from the Laker’s power forward. The only thing you feel is Jenna’s fist gripping your arm, bunching the jacket in her hands.
You unconsciously lean into her; the intensity of the room bouncing off you.
The ball continues to spin until it amazingly flies through the basket with a satisfying swoosh and the buzzer rings loudly.
The crowd explodes – bursting into loud cheers.
“Holy shit!” Jenna jumps, cheering.
“No fucking way.” You groan.
You feel her grab your shoulders to face her, still jumping up and down; a large smile on her face. You find yourself matching her grin despite your team not winning.
Nodding in defeat, you admit, “Okay, okay… that was a pretty great game.”
“Great?” She shakes you like a rag doll, “That was the best game I’ve ever seen!”
“Are you turning into a basketball fan, Miss Ortega?” You tease as she pulls away from you.
Still with a grin, she says, “Never… Football will always have my heart.”
“I didn’t peg you for an NFL fan but I guess I’ve heard stranger things.” You tease as she rolls her eyes.
“Soccer, Y/N.”
“Why didn’t you just call it the proper name then?”
“We are not starting this.” She holds a hand up, turning to sit back in her seat. The high of winning the bet, dwindling away.
●●●
“This is me…” Jenna says into the quiet night air.
You shifted on your feet as you stood by your car. The night had been an unexpected…. success. After the game, you two made sure to stick around to chat and take pictures with fans in the crowd.
The more eyes that saw you two together, the better.
“Um… this was nice, I guess.” You mumble, feeling a bit awkward now that it was just you and her.
She blinks up at you, surprised by your admission. “Uh – yeah, this wasn’t bad. Surprising, but not bad.”
A small smile creeps on your face, “Okay, well I guess I’ll see you later… or whenever our managers say we need to be seen together again.”
She laughs, nodding, “Yeah…”
A bright flash from your peripheral has you blinking, unfocused. “What the–”
“Paps…” She sighs. “Kiss my cheek.”
“What?” You asked bewildered.
She sends you a pointed look, turning her back from the direction of the flash so they couldn’t see her face. “Kiss my cheek, they’ll take a picture and then they’ll know we’re not just gal pals.”
Jenna is rolling her eyes but you’re still stuck in your spot. “Y/N.”
Snapping out of your thoughts, you clear your throat, “Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
Something indecipherable shines in her eyes, but it disappears as she blinks, “You’re not asking for my hand in marriage, Y/N. Just kiss my cheek.”
Blushing, you lean down. Shyly placing your lips on her soft-dimpled cheek – she leans into the contact, placing a hand on your neck. Immediately, a flurry of bright flashes and sounds of clicking interrupt the moment.
“Goodnight, Jenna.” You say softly once you pulled away; ignoring the goosebumps that rose on your skin.
“Goodnight.” She takes a moment to look at you before walking to unlock her gate.
You wait until she opens the metal door; not missing the kind eyes she shoots you as she shuts the gate. Only once Jenna’s out of your view did you let out a deep sigh, turning around.
“Y/N! Over here! Did you just kiss Jenna Ortega? What about the singer you were with in Vegas? Are you two over?”
You didn’t want to give the paparazzi lurking on her street more reason to stay, so you keep your head down ignoring their shouting and slip into your car.
●●●
“How was it?” Her sister’s voice can be heard on her phone.
“Awful – she’s a menace, Mia.” Jenna replies as she opens her fridge, looking for a mid-afternoon snack.
It was now Sunday afternoon and as predicted – you and Jenna are the top headline of every major news outlet in America.
“Did you tell her that you loved her in Little Women?”
“What? No, of course not! I’m not gonna tell her that.”
“Why not? You watched that movie like five times when it came out.” Her sister reminds.
“Shut up, Mia.”
“Okay, anyways…” She trails off, laughing. “I saw the pictures. You’re smiling pretty wide with her. Also the kiss on the cheek when she was dropping you off? Chef’s kiss. Just perfect.”
Jenna rolls her eyes, “It’s all part of the act. Of course, I look happy.”
“There’s videos of you jumping on her. I can barely scroll through my Twitter feed without seeing an edit of you two at the game.”
“Stop. I don’t want to talk about her anymore.” Jenna snaps.
“Okay, okay…” Mia laughs and Jenna can picture her raising her hands in surrender. “Let’s talk about New York, are you excited?’
Jenna lets out a repressed sigh. With all of this PR mess with you, she hasn’t had time to think about how busy her schedule is about to be. The Scream VI premiere and SNL is inching closer and the Coachella native is feeling the familiar phantoms of anxiety rumbling in her chest.
“Yeah, of course, I am. It’s SNL…”
“But?” Aliyah, her younger sister’s voice comes out of nowhere.
“But it’s SNL!” Jenna exclaims, “It’s a big deal! What if… what if I fuck up? Or I break character?”
“Okay… let’s take a deep breath,” Mia speaks up. She recognizes her sister’s looming anxiety and knew she had to act before the young actress sends herself into a panic. “You will kill it, like you always do and you won’t mess up. It’s okay to be a little nervous.
“Right, right.” Jenna agrees but the weighted pressure in her chest was still to creeping in.
Mia hums over the line unconvinced, “Listen, the whole family is flying in before your premiere. So don’t worry, we’ll be there, cheering you on!”
Jenna can’t fight the smile that creeps up on her face. The thought of her family being there on one of the most important nights of her career is all she needs. They always had her back, picking her up when she felt like she couldn’t do it anymore. “Thanks, guys. I really appreciate that.”
●●●
“You want me to fly to New York, to what– be her personal cheerleader?” You dead-pan, watching as Link frantically throws clothes and shoes into a suitcase.
It’s been about a week since the Lakers and Celtics game and news of you and Jenna’s night out in town are still abuzz. The two of you made a couple more subtle appearances over the last couple of days and the media is eating it up shamelessly. Pictures of you and the star are plastered on the front pages; be it grabbing coffee or grocery shopping or walking your dog at the park.
Now, you couldn’t even step outside without someone hurling Jenna’s name at you.
But you couldn’t lie. It was nice to have some company while you run your errands. Only yours though — you hated when you had to do hers. Jenna always thought too hard about which cereal to get, like she’s ever home to eat it.
‘New budding romance in Hollywood? Do we have a new power couple on the rise with Y/N L/N and Jenna Ortega? These two seem to be getting to know each other well… click here to read more’
Was the first thing you read when you turned on your phone this morning.
Of course, it’s never that easy because there are still a handful of nobodies sending hateful messages about your criminal escapades – not everyone was convinced.
Some well-known people on social media – people you personally know are adding fuel to the fire; engaging in discourses of you and Jenna and if you are dragging her down just by being associated with you.
Fake-ass motherfuckers.
“Yes, I think those are the exact words Jake and Liv put in their texts, actually.” He reaches for his phone to read over the message; mocking you.
“Stop, Link…” You run a hand on your face, “Tell them I’m not going. I have better things to do, Coachella is right around the corner and I literally have a song I need to send to my producer.”
He watches as you childishly cross your arms, scowling.
If you weren’t his best friend he would’ve said goodbye to the Hollywood life – too rich for his blood. Link wasn’t sure how he still put up with your attitude after all these years. Could you have said those words any more snobbishly?
“Are you done?”
“No.”
“Well you don’t have a damn choice. Now, take a shower – Marcus will be here in an hour to drive us to LAX. And you can record in New York, no one said you had to be attached to Jenna’s hip.”
“What if I don’t want to.” You stand your ground.
“Don’t do this today, Y/N.” He sighs.
For a few moments, you hold your ground; contemplating if you should dig a hole and barricade yourself – metaphorically, of course. But never say never.
Link raises a challenging brow – daring you to try him today.
Wow, someone must have woken up on the wrong side of the bed…
Knowing what that look meant, you knew when to pick your battles and accepted the loss, trudging over to the master bathroom but not before slamming the door behind you.
“Don’t be slamming doors ‘round here! I don’t care if the house is under your name.” He shouts from the other side.
“Fuck off!” You yell back, yanking your shirt off as the water turns hot.
He is such a dad.
–
“What are you doing here?”
“Hi to you too, Jenna. How was your day? Mine was great, the flight was a bit bumpy but I can handle a ‘lil turbulence. Thanks for asking.” You reply, ignoring the furrow in her brow hidden behind the silky fringe.
You wonder what conditioner she uses to get her hair looking that soft.
“Y/N…” Jenna sighs, walking past you to enter your hotel suite. Walking into the living room to place her shoulder bag on the coffee table then she turns to face you, crossing her arms still waiting for an answer. “I’m serious, why are you in New York.”
You lean against a wooden panel, crossing your arms as well. “Didn’t your team tell you?”
Her frown deepens, patience thinning the longer you beat around the bush. “Obviously not or I wouldn’t be here.”
“Okay relax…” You warn not appreciating her tone. You literally just landed an hour ago and it’s almost midnight East Coast time. The timezone switch is fucking with you and her attitude is the last thing you need.
“Don’t tell me to relax.” She snaps. The young actress hated those words, it always made her more riled up.
You scoff trying your hardest not to snap back but controlling your anger has never been your strong suit. “Why do you think I’m here? Liv told me I had to show face for your premiere and SNL episode. Be your cheerleader or some shit.”
She drops her arms, frown still etched on her soft face. What? Ignore that.
“Shit, I think Sarah might’ve mentioned it but I was just so busy with rehearsal and fittings with Enrique that I didn’t see.” Jenna sighs, rubbing her forehead.
For the first time since she barged into your room – you take a moment to scan her. Her face is bare and makeup free but you can see the dark smudges from her eyeliner earlier today just under the lashline. She was dressed in a large sweater and mismatched sweatpants; the sleeves are so long it covers half her hands and her short wavy locks tied into a messy low bun.
Her clothes practically engulfed her tiny stature. You figure this is a pretty rare sight that most people aren’t privy to and suddenly you’re unsure as to why it’s so hard to look away.
“I didn’t mean to snap… I’m sorry.” She says quietly, looking at you like she was genuinely apologetic.
“It’s fine…” You shrug and pushed off the wall to sit on the couch. Everyone has their days, you thought.
“I didn’t mean to ambush you. I really thought you knew I’d be here.” You turn on the TV, not being to stand the silence in the large room.
Jenna sits down beside you, tucking her feet against her chest. When did she take off her shoes? “It’s not your fault.”
The sigh she lets out is heavy and something tells you there’s some meaning behind it too. But you didn’t feel like it was your business so you zip it and continue watching the TV drone on about a program you don’t care about.
“I saw clips of your SNL promo… I thought it was hilarious – you were great and that reporter outfit? So cool.” You change the subject. It gets her to smile as her dimples poke out, a little shy now.
“It’s so cringy.” She covers her face.
“Awh, nah… the internet loved it.” You laugh, a little amused that the actress was all flushed by a single compliment.
Call it big-headed, call it ego, call it whatever you want but you personally relished it when people fawned over you.
“Of course they did. They’re the whole reason for the meme.” She rolls her eyes after dropping her hands but she still had a toothy smile.
“I bet that dance follows you everywhere…”
“Every. Fucking. Day.” She says then raises a brow at you, “How do you know about the dance, though?’
You send her an affronted look, “I’m not a grandmother, Jenna. I know what’s hip with the kids.”
She snorts, “You’re an idiot – I just mean, I didn’t think you were on TikTok like that with a schedule like yours. Also, that app is toxic.”
“Every social media app can be toxic.” You quip, “But get off your high horse, your majesty. I literally just saw a couple of edits on Twitter of it.”
“Uh huh…” She hums, unconvinced, if the side glance she throws you was any indication. “But yeah the writers wanted to do a bit with Wednesday and this is what we came up with.”
“Well, I think it’s genius… from a business standpoint.” You offer up, nudging her shoulder then turning back to the TV.
You miss Jenna’s bothered frown. “Business standpoint?”
“Yeah,” You say off-handedly, “It’s smart, good for you.”
“Are most things a ‘business standpoint’ for you?” She asks, genuinely curious about what you could mean.
“Hmm. I guess I never thought of it like that but now that I’m saying it out loud, yeah, kinda.” You shrug, thinking about it.
Most of the interactions in Hollywood that you have had are based on transactions and is usually for your own self-interest.
“...That’s kinda sad.” She says getting you to turn.
“What does that mean?” You frown.
“I’m just saying… there’s more to this industry than business deals and brand offers.” This time Jenna offers up a thought but it sounds a bit judgemental to you, shrugging.
You’re furrowing your brows, sitting up straight. “Look, you don’t even know me. Just forget what I said.”
But the laugh she lets out grinds your gears in the most unpleasant way.
Jenna holds up her hands in surrender but it feels mocking. “Clearly…” She emphasizes. “But I’m just saying, there’s no need to get all defensive.”
“Okay, I don’t know what kind of shit you were dealing with today but don’t take it out on me. Don’t come to my room talking about things you know nothing about.” You glower.
She matches your frown, standing. “It kinda sounds like you’re the one dealing with something, actually.”
“I think you should leave.” Your glare turns sharp and cold, standing too.
“Already on my way out.” She scoffed, snatching her bag aggressively off the coffee table then turns to walk to the front door.
You follow to make sure the door hits her on the way out but she stops abruptly by the hall causing you to trip on your own feet to not tumble over her.
“I think you should go back to L.A.” She glares up at you, tightly clutching her shoulder bag.
The laugh you let out is humourless, stepping back to create space between you and the other actress. “And get my ass handed to me by Jake, Liv and Sarah? They’re like four horsemen of the apocalypse – just searching for their last member. No thanks. You got a problem with me here? You deal with it.”
She clenches her jaw, “Done. Leave it to me.” Then turns and leaves making sure to slam the door shut.
Those hotel doors weigh a fuck ton, how did she do that? And what did she mean leave it to me?
“Can I come out now?” Link peeks his head out from the adjoining room; fear present on his features.
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tagging who comment so far:
@alexkolax @ladey @jjsmaybank20 @werewoofrobinbuckley
#jenna ortega x reader#jenna ortega x you#jenna ortega x fem!reader#jenna ortega#wednesday netflix#legally binded
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the chase is better than the catch
summary: after months of playing cat and mouse, Agent Ortega finally catches you when you let your guard down. it makes you admit that you don't quite hate the agent as much as you say you do.
pairing: agent ortega x f!reader
word count: 4.7k
warnings:18+ content; no use of y/n; lowkey enemies to lovers; finger sucking; lowkey hand/finger kink ngl; rope bondage; fingering; oral (m & f receiving); edging; unprotected p in v; cum eating/cum play
• masterlist •
Special Agent Ortega.
Oh, how she hated hearing that goddamn name.
Hated seeing his annoying, handsome face. With that stupid hat casting most of it into shadows, shielding him from the harsh desert sun.
That fucking dark mustache sitting over his top lip, stretching wide when he shot her a smile. She even hated his cocky smile.
They had crossed paths several times, and she had always managed to evade him so far. Always just a smidge faster than the agent, escaping his leather-clad hands. She loved the chase, loved seeing that twinkle of playful annoyance in his eyes when she escaped him once again.
Maybe she liked it a little too much, her heart beating faster when she heard his name whispered, when she saw his face appear. Sometimes she almost hoped to see him, disappointed when she successfully robbed some people and left on horseback without seeing him.
Well, he had finally gotten her now.
Slung over the back of his horse, her ankles and wrists tied with rope, secured to the moving animal by even more.
She had been too slow, too careless. Taking a moment to look out for his face instead of making her exit like she should have.
Because suddenly, his face was right in front of her, flashing her those beautiful teeth with a twinkle in his eyes, holding her arms so tight that his fingertips would leave bruises behind. She could still feel his hands on her arms, warm and rough, calloused from years of work.
Strong like she had expected him to be, the way he had manhandled her excited her just a little too much.
She had to squeeze her thighs together in hopes of finding some relief, hating the way he had just thrown her prone onto his horse like she weighed nothing.
But he noticed her squirming, reaching back to give her clothed ass a small smack, laughing at the way she squealed in surprise.
“C’mon, darlin’, stop the squirming.” He said, and she could only imagine the way his cocky smile spread over his face. “One could think you enjoy this a little too much.”
She grunted in response, kicking her bound legs in annoyance. It also helped to play over the fact that she did in fact enjoy this a little too much. There had been a reason she had gotten increasingly more risky over time, unsure if it really was her desperation or stupidity that made her let him catch her.
“Where are you taking me anyways?” She asked, tired from the hot sun burning down on her, happy that it was finally vanishing behind the horizon. Ortega had said as much as not taking her to the nearest cell to let her rot in, at least not in the small town he had caught her in. “I’m tired and thirsty.”
“Told you, you’re much too pretty to rot away in a cell.” Ortega answered, slowing down his horse. They had ridden quite some way, off to wherever he was needed next. “And I do have a proposal for you. Later.”
She was too pretty to put her behind bars, and much too good at what she was doing. He could use someone like her on his little missions, in more ways than one.
Coming to a halt when they had reached an inn at a small settlement, he dismounted the horse, his face appearing in front of her with that big, cocky smile. She really wanted to hate that face of his, but she couldn’t deny that he was incredibly handsome when this close to her.
“Now look at ya.” He chuckled, grabbing her jaw and pressing his fingers into the soft flesh of her reddened cheeks. She looked even prettier with her face flushed and her hair tousled like that. “Huffin’ and puffin’ with that mean stare of yours but I know there ain’t a place you’d rather be right now.”
It was her turn to laugh, his calloused fingers making her skin burn even hotter as he held her in place.
“There’s plenty of places I’d rather be than here with you.”
He only smiled wider at that, letting go of her jaw to move around the horse, coming to a halt right behind her. His swift hands untied her from the animal before he placed his hands on her hips and yanked her off of it, just as roughly as he had captured her.
Fingers digging into her arms as he pushed her forward and into the inn. It was a shabby little place, but it was better than sleeping outside by a far stretch.
The people stared at them funny when they entered, and even the innkeeper had an odd stare to spare but did not comment on it further. Money was money after all, and as long as this wasn’t about to turn into a murder, he couldn’t care less.
Ortega helped manoeuvre her up the stairs, a long process which wasn’t helped by her constant complaining.
“You know, if you just unbound my feet, this would be so much easier.” She huffed, almost falling over. Her arms hurt, bent behind her at an awkward angle and the rope around her feet started to dig into her skin. “You can’t be that scared of me?”
He hoisted her up the last couple of steps in a less than gentlemanly manner, making her squeal again but finally reach the top of these damned stairs.
“You just want me to untie you so you can take that pretty ass of yours running, sweetheart.” He gave her a pointed look, raising an eyebrow at her before he continued pushing her forward. “Forget it, I finally caught you so I ain’t letting you go again.”
Finally reaching the room, he pushed her down into one of the armchairs standing by the small fireplace. Still not untying her, just looking down at her.
The room was quite small and there was only one bed. She didn’t quite know if she liked that or not.
“You stay here, I’m getting us some food.” He announced, turning around to leave her alone.
Oh, how she hated him. But she couldn’t deny that something about the way he had manhandled her had made her feel much hotter than the sun ever could. Becoming painfully aware of the throbbing need in between her thighs, wanting so bad to hate the man but being unable to.
She didn’t need anyone, no less a man as cocky and arrogant as he was. So why the fuck could her body not stop when he was around?
The thrill had been the game of cat and mouse they had played, always putting her excitement on that alone. Not Ortega himself.
God damnit, she didn’t even know his first name.
It took a while for him to come back, a tray of two bowls of stew and two golden beers in hand. He placed it down on the small table in front of the fireplace before he sat down himself, finally taking that stupid hat of his off. Revealing those dark brown locks, slicked back by sweat.
It almost made him look more handsome, her mind conjuring up images of how sweaty he would look while fucking into her on that small bed over there.
A thought she was shaking away quickly, watching as he took a big gulp of the ale before taking his bowl and a spoon.
“And how am I supposed to eat?” She asked, squirming in her seat, her arms still aching. “I can’t possibly eat with my arms tied behind my back, can I?”
Ortega looked over at her, taking a bite from his spoon. Almost provocatively, like he wanted to annoy her with the fact that he could eat, unlike her.
“I’m not untying you, darlin’.” He said, taking yet another bite with a grin. “And I ain’t lettin’ you handle a spoon either, I know you’re mighty talented.”
She rolled her eyes, leaning back into the chair with a slight wince. What a bastard.
“Great, so I’m starving then? Looking at this stew right here?”
He chuckled, only half annoyed by her whiny voice. Putting his bowl down again, he took another sip of his beer before scooting closer to her, close enough that their knees were touching.
“Quit your whinin’, woman.” He responded, taking her bowl and her spoon.
She immediately knew what he wanted to do, groaning and pulling at her ties.
Absolutely not.
“You are not feeding me.”
A laugh left him. If she had been anyone but the woman he had tried to catch for the better part of a year now, the one who had mesmerized him from the very first moment he had seen her pretty face, he already would have smacked her. But somehow he enjoyed her back and forth and her whines and grunts.
He wondered if she sounded the same while a cock was buried deep inside of her pussy.
“Look, sweetheart. Either I feed you,” Ortega said, holding up the spoon full of hot stew, “or you go without. Your choice.”
She narrowed her eyes at him for a few moments in an attempt to intimidate him, but seeing that it had no effect made her sigh.
“Fuck you.” She mumbled quietly. This was humiliating, but did she have another choice here? “Alright.”
Leaning forward a little, she awkwardly slurped the stew off of the spoon, avoiding to look at his face. It was good, as good as it could be out here in the middle of the desert, but she’s certainly had worse.
She could see his smirk in the periphery of her vision, and somehow she just knew this whole thing was less about being afraid that she could do something while untied. It was more that he enjoyed this, though she wasn’t entirely sure in which way.
He kept feeding her more, spoon after spoon, all while he could only stare at her pretty lips as she ate. So mesmerized by them, that at some point, he held the spoon just a little too weird, spilling some stew down her chin and onto her white blouse, now a little dirty from the sand of the desert.
“Be careful!” She scolded, glad that the stew wasn’t as hot anymore, licking her bottom lip as he placed the bowl down.
Without much thinking, he swiped a finger over her chin, gathering the soup that had spilled. Slowly moving up to her lips, swiping the rough pad over the soft swell of them. He hadn't expected her tongue to dart out, her eyes meeting his dark ones as she slowly sucked the finger into her mouth.
Tasting the salt of the soup along with the dirt still lingering in the grooves of the fingerpad, sucking on it and caressing it with her tongue. Ortega’s breath hitched in his throat.
Surely this was a fever dream. He had been out in the sun for too long.
It was the softness of the motion which surprised her, leaning forward to take more into her mouth, down to the second knuckle while he watched. She couldn’t really deny her attraction to him anymore, though she enjoyed the banter between them.
Snapping out of his trance, he added a second finger with a small smirk that quickly spread wide as she greedily sucked that into her mouth with a hum as well.
“See, knew you were enjoyin' yourself a little too much on the back of my horse.” He chuckled quietly, pressing onto her tongue and making her hum again. The way she sucked on them, bobbing her head up and down until they were almost at the back of her throat, it made his dick twitch in his way too tight pants.
Pumping them in and out in time with the motions of her head, watching the saliva pool at the corners of her mouth. She looked so damn pretty with her lips around his fingers, her lids heavy as she looked at him.
He had half a mind to suspect this was nothing more than an attempt to escape, making him drunk on her before she could run, but he chose to enjoy this.
“You’re so filthy, sweetheart.” Ortega said, massaging her tongue, thrusting in and out of her mouth at a quicker pace. Wishing that was his dick instead of his fingers. “Bet you suck dick that well too, yeah? Or are ya just tryin’ to escape?”
Removing his fingers from her mouth, she barely had the time to whimper in protest before his lips found hers, rough and demanding, the hair of his mustache tickling her skin. Just like she had thought he would be, her arms fighting against the restraints in an attempt to touch him, wanting to run her fingers through his hair and open his shirt and vest.
She could taste the ale on his tongue, moaning quietly as his fingers slipped down and to her belt buckle. Too slippery from her saliva, he struggled to open her pants for a moment, before finally being able to let his hand slip in, swiftly finding her clit and applying pressure.
The sharp gasp that left her lips made her part from him, her hips bucking into his touch, chasing his rough, thick fingers.
“Fuck, oh God.”
He loved hearing her swear, watching her struggle against the restraints while her face contorted in pleasure. Biting her bottom lip, eyes screwed shut.
Fuck, was he happy to have finally caught her.
But he needed more than that, needed more than her weeping cunt rubbing against his fingers, he wanted to taste her. Fuck his tongue deep inside of her, have her gasp and moan for him while he lapped at her.
The fact that she was still all tied up and helpless made all of this even better. Not that he would ever exploit this moment.
Sinking to his knees in the small space between her and the table, he reluctantly removed his hand from her wet heat, taking in her annoyed grunt. Instead he slowly pulled her pants down her legs, revealing the soft curls he had felt, her glistening folds as she tried to part her legs further.
She hoped he would untie her now, annoyed by the rope digging into her ankles but also needing to spread her legs wide open for him. Needing his hot tongue on her aching pussy. Watching in awe how he knelt before her, her pants around her ankles before he lifted her legs and moved in the space between them with a grin.
Resting them on his broad shoulders, she tried to open them just a little further but found it difficult with how she was bound. She shifted lower, closer to the heat of his mouth, trying to draw him in as she grew impatient.
Ortega only grinned wider, liking how she struggled and opened herself up for him. He wished he could tease her more, but after so many months of chasing her around he just couldn’t wait any longer.
Bowing his head, he groaned as he licked a broad stripe up her folds, enjoying her quiet moan when the tip of his tongue flicked over her clit. He noticed how she desperately tried to open herself even more, the vibrations of his noises as he began sucking on her clit only spurring her on.
“Like that, yes.” She whispered as quietly as she could, her words hitching on her breath. Her hips bucked into his mouth, chasing more friction as he ate her out like a man starved, his arms wrapping around her legs to keep her still and prevent her from sliding off the chair.
Tasting as sweet as he had imagined it so many times, fucking his own fist while thinking about his tongue buried deep inside of her.
When he moved lower, sliding it into her wet and aching hole, she couldn’t stop the loud gasp that left her, her back arching uncomfortably with the way she was tied up still.
He was good. More than that, he knew exactly what he was doing, lapping and slurping at her, the obscene sounds bouncing off the walls around them.
With her crest in sight, so damn near, she closed her eyes, swearing as she got closer and closer.
Teetering right on the edge.
Then he was gone, her heels digging into his back as his mouth left her. When she opened her eyes she found him grinning up at her, looking like the devil himself. Chin and thick mustache wet with her, his eyes darker than usual.
“Fuck, Ortega-” She panted, greedily drawing air back into her lungs, cutting herself off when his fingers dug into her exposed thighs harder.
“You think I’ll make this easy for you, darlin’?” He asked, still smiling wide. “After you escaped me again and again?”
Her face fell at the realization what he meant. What he planned to do, whining in frustration.
His mouth found her pussy again, mumbling into her while she once again was drawn close to the edge.
“I’ll leave you hanging like you left me hanging all those times you ran away from me.” He said, voice muffled by her dripping pussy. Doubling his efforts, his teeth just lightly grazing over the sensitive bundle of nerves right until she teetered at the edge again.
Gone again.
That whine of protest she let out was music to his ears, only adding to the feast between her legs. He imagined her grabbing at his hair now if he untied her, her arms moving behind her in vain.
“Ortega, please.” She cried, that sweet sensation ebbing away once more, just needing relief. Trying to coax him forward with her legs somehow, wishing he would just take the rope off of her so she could move. “Please, I need it.”
He chuckled, one of his hands leaving her thigh to spread her puffy lips open, revealing the wet mess between them. Dragging his thumb just lightly over her swollen clit, she flinched, a jolt going through her at the ghosting touch.
It only made him laugh, dragging them lower and pushing two fingers inside of her, watching her eyes roll back before she closed them, biting her lip to keep the throaty sounds at bay.
“You sound so pretty when you beg, sweetheart.”
How pretty she looked like this, and she hadn’t even had his cock yet. Ortega pumped his fingers in and out of her for a bit before he added his tongue to the mix, once again drawing her to the edge before moving away.
Over and over, getting her right to the brink of it all before he let her fall, hearing her sob and whine and moan, her legs trembling against his cheeks.
“Now you know what it felt like to have you slip away, darlin’.” He groaned, his own cock painfully hard in his pants, needing her tight heat around him. Gripping him like she gripped his fingers, sucking him in deeper. “Did you count? This is how many times you escaped me, you sly thing.”
He was going to kill her with this, she was sure. So sensitive and strung tight, the sounds of his fingers inside of her growing more and more obscene by the minute. She couldn’t do much more than babble his name, drunk off of him, her head in the clouds.
“But I finally got you, and I think you deserve a treat, hermosa.”
Oh God.
That was the only thought inside of her head as her orgasm crashed into her, thighs clamping shut around his head while she shook and covered him in her release. It bordered on pain with how it surged through her, her muscles all over her body spasming from the intense feeling.
But he didn’t let up, only groaning as he lapped up everything she gave him, only pulling back when he felt like he’s had enough, long after she had stilled again.
When he slipped out from between her legs, he found her with her eyes closed, lips slightly parted as she gained her breath once more. Such a wonderful image, and it was all because of him.
Reaching for the rope around her ankles, he swiftly untied her, her eyes flying open at the motion. He tugged down her pants as well after taking her shoes off, discarding them to the side.
It was freeing to finally be rid of them, to be able to move her legs again. But she didn’t have much time to marvel at the freedom of her limbs as he already stood up, giving her a brief but good view of the sizable tent in his pants before he pulled her up and dragged her over to the bed.
Just as gentle as he had been before he had devoured her pussy, pushing her down onto it.
She watched as he opened his belt quickly, making swift work on the button of his pants as well. Her mouth watered at the thought of seeing his dick, eyes fixed on the outline of it straining against his pants.
He found it adorable, the way she hungered after him, practically lunging at it once he had wrestled his clothes out of the way, her lips wrapping around the head.
“Fuck, you’re eager.” He groaned, his hand resting at the back of her head, watching how she bobbed up and down, taking more of him while spit pooled at the corners of her lips. “Can’t believe you kept running away from me.”
Entranced by her, he let her continue for a bit, hearing and feeling her moans around him. So damn eager, clearly enjoying this more than she thought she would.
But he didn’t want to cum in her mouth, as pretty as that thought was. To see her with his cum pooled on her warm tongue. He needed her pretty pussy, reluctantly pulling her off of him by her hair.
Her eyes were glazed over as she looked up at him, spit running down her chin and dripping onto her heaving chest. Like in his dreams sometimes, when he imagined fucking her throat until she cried.
Another time.
Bending down, he swiftly untied her arms, still holding her hair in his grip, guiding her down to lay on the bed. She barely had time to move her hands before he climbed on top of her, kneeling in between her spread thighs and taking both of her hands into one of his big ones, pinning them onto the bed over her head. His grip was strong, his fingers wrapping around both of her wrists as she squirmed below him.
Spreading her legs further, he simply couldn’t wait much longer, taking himself in one hand and lining himself up before sinking into her tight heat. Ortega’s groan mingled with her drawn out whine, her back arching up and into him, humming at the delicious stretch of him.
If she had known he was this well equipped, she certainly would have stopped running from him a while ago. Filling places inside of her that she didn’t know could be filled as he sank in all the way.
“You’re so tame with a cock inside of you, sweetheart.” Ortega groaned, setting a harsh rhythm right from the beginning. Pounding into her while he kept her pinned down, bending his head to kiss along her neck and jaw. He just couldn’t hold back, needing her tight pussy strangling his dick. “Who would’ve known that’s all it took.”
She simply hummed, her eyes rolling to the back of her head before she closed them. Trying to fight against his hand on her wrists but unable to move his heavy wright off of them, wanting to touch and explore his body.
“Feels good, Ortega.” She whined, gasping when he sucked a bruise into her neck. “Oh, fuck-”
He laughed, biting the place he had sucked on gently.
“Somethin' to remind you of who caught you, darlin’.” Ortega groaned, now back on her lips and biting at her lower one. “To remind you whose cock you’re gonna cum all over.”
A powerful thrust accompanied his words, pushing her up higher on the bed, her cry muffled by his mouth. He couldn’t care less what everyone else thought of the wet, slapping noises coming from their room, but he didn’t want to alert anyone with how vocal she was.
He could tell she was close, clenching around him tightly, her body wild beneath his.
“C’mon, pretty girl.” He grunted, moving his knees so he could change the angle of his thrusts, chasing his own high. His hand clamped over her mouth as her noises became louder again, his lips finding the shell of her ear instead. “Show me who owns you and your sweet pussy, hermosa.”
Her body trembled as she came, his name on her tongue muffled by his strong hand, the other still tightly pinning her down. Feeling overly sensitive from her earlier orgasm, his little grunts and groans helping her through it all as he kept fucking into her, close to his own peak.
Just before his own orgasm, the overwhelming urge to paint her body with his cum took over his brain, needing to see the white ropes over her pussy and her belly, needing to see that he finally caught her.
He had half a mind to pull out, groaning deeply as he emptied himself over her, rubbing his dick in between her swollen lips, his cum shooting over her belly just like he had imagined it. Watching as streak after streak covered her, before it trickled down into the hair on her mound.
So beautiful like this and all his. It was him who caught her, who had buried his dick inside of her.
Slowly he took his hand away from her mouth, hearing her heavy breaths, her eyes slowly peering open to look at him. She could feel his cum on her, tilting her head down as well as she could to see the mess.
She couldn’t suppress the moan that left her, the sight of his dick still engulfed by her pussy and her covered in his cum.
“My God, Ortega.” She laughed, watching as he swiped his finger through it and brought it up to her lips.
He let it vanish between her pretty lips, humming at the way she sucked on it again, her big eyes fixed on his.
“What a dirty girl you are.”
Pulling his finger out again while he grinned like the devil himself, he rolled off of her, catching his own breath as he laid next to her. He let go of her hands, now sure that she wouldn’t try to escape.
And she was glad, moving her arms after they had been bound into one position for so long. Instead of the ropes on her wrists she could now still feel his hand on them, the thought of how huge his hand was letting her press her legs together.
It didn’t take long for a soft snoring to appear next to her, making her giggle quietly. Surprised it just took some pussy to knock him out like that.
To make him lower his guard.
Oh, what a mistake that was.
When he woke in the early morning, golden sunlight streaming into the room through the dusty curtains, he found himself without his gun and without his horse. Most importantly, he found himself without a body next to his.
All he found was a small piece of paper on the table in front of the fireplace, unable to bite down a chuckle as his eyes flew over the pretty cursive letters.
Hello, cowboy.
You’ll have your horse and your gun when you catch me again, Agent Ortega.
I hope that you are faster to do so this time around.
Instead of her name, she simply left a stain in the shapes of her lips, right at the bottom corner.
Ortega couldn’t wait to catch her again, folding the paper and keeping it safe in the breast pocket of his jacket.
No, he would definitely not be as slow as before.
He would make sure of that.
#agent ortega#the sixth gun#special agent ortega#agent ortega x reader#agent ortega smut#special agent ortega x reader#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal fandom#fan fic#fan fiction#fanfiction#fanfic#my writing
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LadyBess' Masterlist 🥃
Welcome to my Masterlist! I hope that, whatever you're into, there's something here which will take your fancy! 🤠
I write predominantly 18+ content, and each fic comes with its own content tags and warning - please check these out ahead of reading anything! Minors, please DNI ✨
For ease of navigation, I have used a Traffic Light System to rate these works 🖤 🚦
Green is for General/Teen rated content
Orange is for more Mature works
Red is for anything rated Explicit
My writing is mainly reader-insert content, but I have a mix of Female, AFAB, and Gender Neutral (GN) reader inserts 💜
While I mainly write for Pedro Pascal characters, I have also written for other characters both in and out of the 'Pedro-verse'! These will all be under their own subcategory of pairings 🤍
Please note this masterlist is a work in progress! I am in the process of transferring my A03 fics onto Tumblr, but for the time being some of these links will take you to my A03 (@/LadyBess)!
Please enjoy, and come back regularly to see what's new!
One-Shots
"Petals" - Jack Daniels x F!OC (Tumblr Ask/Prompt)
"Something Sweet" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03)
"Departure" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader
"After Hours" - Jack Daniels x GN!Reader (A03)
"Fright" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03)
"Swing" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03)
"The Perfect Fit" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03)
"Homeward Bound" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader
"Restless" - young!Jack Daniels x F!Reader
"The Lodger" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader
"Dessert" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03)
"Chasing The Sun" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03)
"Afternoon Intrusions" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03)
"A Lesson Learned" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03)
"Closing Time" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03)
"Bound" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03)
"Disciplinary" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03)
Multi-Chapter/ Series'
"Jack-mas Christmas Drabbles" - Jack Daniels x AFAB/ F!Reader (A03)
One-Shots
"Birthday Wishes" - Joel Miller x F!Reader
"The Headache" - Joel Miller x GN!Reader (A03)
"Foolish" - Joel Miller x F!Reader
One-Shots
"Getting In A Pickle" - Javier Peña x F!Reader
"Take A Seat" - Javier Peña x F!Reader
"Hot Nights in Colombia" - Javier Peña x F!Reader (A03)
Multi-Chapter/ Series'
"Monday Morning" - Javier Peña x F!Reader (A03) - collaboration with @joels-darlin 💕
One-Shots
"Drive Me Wild" - Frankie Morales x F!Reader (A03)
"Return To Me" - Frankie Morales x F!Reader (A03)
"Longing" - Frankie Morales x F!Reader (A03)
"Sundress" - Frankie Morales x F!Reader (A03)
One-Shots
"Birthday Boy" - Javi G x F!Reader (A03)
"Behave Yourself" - Javi G x AFAB!Reader (No pronouns used)
Multi-Chapter/ Series'
"Heist" - Javi G x F!Reader - COMING SOON
One-Shots
"Three's A Crowd" - Jack Daniels x Joel Miller x F!Reader (A03)
Multi-Chapter/ Series'
"Just A Date" - Multiple Pedro Character fic x GN!Reader
"Mutually Beneficial" - Javier Peña x Frankie Morales x F!Reader (A03)
Much loved characters, but so far only 1-2 fics to their name 💜
One-Shots
"Understanding" - Marcus Pike x F!Reader (A03)
"Now You See Me" - Marcus Pike x F!Reader (A03)
"Clean Up" - Max Phillips x F!Reader (A03)
"Hypercharged In Hyperspace" - Din Djarin x F!Reader (A03)
"Rookie Mistake" - Tim Rockford x F!Reader
Multi-Chapter/ Series'
"A Brand New Start" - Agent Ortega x F!Reader (A03)
One-Shots
"Salvation" - 11th Doctor (Doctor Who) x Clara Oswald (A03)
"Run" - 11th Doctor (Doctor Who) x F!Reader (A03)
"Rose Petals Blossom" - 11th Doctor (Doctor Who) x Rose Tyler (A03)
"Precious Moments With You" - 11th Doctor (Doctor Who) x F!Reader (A03)
Multi-Chapter/ Series'
"Paint The Town Red" - Ginger Ale (Kingsman) x F!Reader
#masterlist#fanfiction#fanfiction masterlist#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal cinematic universe#multifandom#multifandom fics#Kingsman#Doctor Who#Jack Daniels#Agent Whiskey#Joel Miller#TLOU#TUWOMT#javi gutierrez#javier peña#din djarin#Star Wars#frankie morales#Triple Frontier#Marcus Pike#the mentalist#the mummy 1999#professor layton
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The Instructor - Part 4
Summary: Agent Walker continues your training.
Pairing: August Walker x Female Reader
Word Count: approx 3.8k
Warnings: smut, Dom/sub dynamic (m Dom, f sub), dégradation kink, praise kink, slapping, rough sex, orgasm control, I think thats it?
Authors note: Not beta read, only edited by me. There will be errors, my apologies.
Masterlist
Part 3 Part 5
The Instructor Part 4
August took you to the surveillance room. The operation had the whole ninth floor to work from, you didn’t know how the CIA was able to pull off such a requisition, but you knew not to ask questions. Chances were, even August didn’t know how that was done.
Agent Thomas was there with two other Agents and although they were both men, they were so opposite in nature and appearance you wondered how they could possibly work together. One of them seemed to radiate constant joy and good humour, while the other seemed dour and uninterested in anything. You receive a handshake and a welcoming smile from Agent Ortega and got a short nod from Agent Turner. Despite August introducing you by your name, since Agent Thomas had beaten you to them, your name was New Girl.
Apparently, there were two more Agents you would meet when your shift finishes. The number of Agents on this case struck you as odd. Six agents plus August all in the field seemed overkill for any simple surveillance case. Four should be more than enough. Hell, you could probably do it with three.
Ortega was the agent you would spend the next 8 hours with, and you were relieved. You were confident you knew how to do your job, but since this was your first field assignment, you were nervous and Turner made it worse.
So did August, if you were honest with yourself. You found yourself playing with the golden circlet around your neck a lot and chided yourself for bringing attention to it. It was meant to be discreet but if you constantly played with it, eventually someone would notice. You frequently found your concentration lapse and you would focus on August instead of your job. He was becoming an obsession, he invaded your mind constantly. You couldn’t stop thinking about him, anticipating your next visit or, remembering your too few encounters.
During one such daydream, you caught Ortega staring at you, expectantly. You quickly realised it was because he had spoken to you but you hadn’t responded. “Sorry,” you say. “I tend to get really focussed on my work and block out other sounds.” You lie smoothly. Ortega waves away your apology and repeats the question.
You enjoy your time with Ortega, he was friendly and warm without being lecherous. Perhaps his simple wedding band helped to put you at ease. He doesn’t offer information about his partner and you don’t ask. You both eat a lunch of sandwiches made in the kitchen and while the work doesn’t stop, you and Ortega start chatting and you find yourself growing more comfortable with him. Even though he calls you New Girl, he doesn’t treat you like a rookie and you found your confidence increase as the day went on. You even found yourself sharing jokes with him.
However, an hour before your surveillance shift finished, August came back to the room requesting an update. As he comes in the door you were smiling, still getting over a laughing fit with Ortega. Although he shows no obvious reaction, you notice a slight tightening of his jaw. You keep the smile plastered to your face as you look away, but you know there isn’t a hint of a smile in your eyes.
August checks in with Ortega who reports the day’s events. He leans over Ortega’s shoulder resting one hand on the desk while the other held one side of a pair headphones up to his ear as he listens to some audio. You can feel August’s gaze boring holes into you, and you can almost hear him say, “Look at me, Pet.”
Slowly you raise your eyes and look at him. You had to smother a gasp. He wasn’t just staring at you, it felt like he was stripping you bare with his eyes. The fire is his blue orbs was scorching with desire. His gaze holds you captive, and you know if Ortega sees what was taking place, your secret would be out. Scandal at this point in your career would mean you were chained to a desk for the rest of your life, if you didn’t quit in frustration, which was usually what most people did.
But August doesn’t take pity on you, he knows the risks too and doesn’t avert his gaze. He licks his lips, drawing attention to his mouth. With a leering look he mouths, “I’m going to fuck the shit out of you tonight, Pet.”
You make a strangled noise and Ortega looks up at you started. “You ok, New Girl?” he asks.
You reach down and clutch your foot, slipping it out of your shoe. “Yeah,” you say, hiding your face while you rub your foot. “Just a cramp.”
August ignores the situation and keeps listening to the audio. You avoid looking at him and he leaves a few minutes later. Even after he is gone, you still feel your ears and cheeks burn and you doubt you will be able to regain your concentration. Then you receive an email from August that simply reads “8 pm.” The rest of your shift is a write off.
Not long before eight pm you stand nervously outside August’s apartment. With trembling hands, you knock on the door. You feel tipsy, you can’t think straight, you’re giggly with nervousness and your legs are unsteady, ready to betray you at any moment.
“It’s open,” you hear August call from inside.
You take a deep breath in a useless attempt to settle your nerves and open the door. You see him sitting at his dining table reading from his laptop and nursing a tumbler of what looked like gin or vodka. He didn’t get up, just flicks his eyes up as the door opened, saw it was you and flicks his eyes down again.
“Lock the door,” August says and you do as he asks.
He is wearing his suit pants and button up shirt, but he had taken his jacket and tie off. His sleeves are rolled up and a few of the top buttons on his shirt are open and you can see tufts of his dark hair on his chest. His hair is still impeccably groomed, but a five o’clock shadow dusts his jaw. Even without the suit, he exudes authority, from the set of his jaw, to his posture, the only thing casual about him was his laxed attire.
“You’re early again,” August says. You still can’t tell if he thought being early was a good thing or not. Until he said otherwise you would continue to be early because you were sure August wouldn’t tolerate tardiness.
You half shrug in reply, but don’t say anything. You realise you hardly say anything in front of August, he intimidated you more than else did. He made you nervous in a way that was so intoxicating that you found it hard to even think of anything you wanted to say. Unless, he asked you a question, then you can hold nothing back. Perhaps it was because you know there is no one in the world that has more power over you than he does.
“Take your clothes off, pet.” August says, still not looking at you. “All of it this time, except your stockings and heels.”
You try to swallow, your mouth feels dry, but you don’t hesitate to obey, his tuts of disappointment that morning still lingered in your mind. Your hands shake as you undress and fold your clothes neatly. You aren’t sure why you feel like its important to fold your clothes, maybe it was because even when August was relaxing, he always had an air of clean order around him. Like he needed things to be just so. However, you know that’s not completely true, you have seen the chaos dance in his eyes, the thin veneer of civility he wore like a skin suit couldn’t hide all of his primal urges and tendency towards recklessness.
“Come sit next to me,” you hear August say the second you had folded your underwear and placed them on top of your clothes. You didn’t think he had been watching but he must have been, because even now he seemed to still be focussed on the screen in front of him. You feel a little silly that you had undressed like you would have at home, you didn’t even try to make it look good for him.
So, you make an effort this time, to show him you want to please him. You let your hips sway just slightly as you walk, the movements feel natural, yet seductive as you near him. You pull a chair away from the table but August stops you, putting his hand over yours. His fingers are warm on your skin and you feel a shiver run up your spine.
“Not there,” he says.
You walk around to the chair on the other side of him, but August stops you again. “Not there.” He looks at you, then with a small movement of his head and a smirk, he indicates the floor. “On your knees, pet.”
You’re shocked and before you can stop yourself you say, “On my knees?” You look at the rug under the table. It was fairly plush looking and soft so your knees wouldn’t hurt. You wondered if he wanted you to take him in his mouth again, you couldn’t think of another reason he would want you on the ground.
“Yes,” August says, with little patience, but his smirk holds. He must find your bemusement funny. “Now.”
You slowly sink to your knees next to August, you feel a little humiliated, but you are curious to see where this was going. August lets out a content hum as you obey. The sound makes you smile and you look up at him, his smirk now looks more like a smile and he pats your head. “Good girl.” He praises. All thoughts of humiliation left you as those two words warm you. August places his large hand on the back of your head and guides it to his thigh.
Again, you’re confused, until you feel his hand stroke your head. He pats you, soothing himself as he finishes his work. He occasionally lifts his hand to do some typing and you find yourself watching his hand impatiently until it is returned. Occasionally he touches your collar, running his fingers along it, as if reminding himself that you as his. Sometimes his fingers slide up and down your back, with long tender strokes that make you break out in goose bumps and when he makes you shiver you hear him hum with satisfaction.
Eventually you hear August give a big sigh and he stretches his neck before closing the laptop and moving it out of the way. He takes a last swig of his drink before putting it aside as well.
“Pet,” August says. You look up at him and he gives his head a little jerk again and you stand up. He looks you up and down, his eyes seem critical as he inspects you, but you know he likes what he sees because his tongue licks his lips before he bites his bottom lip.
August guides your leg over his and you stand in front of him now, your legs on either side of his and your bottom rests on the table. You feel exposed while he continues to study you, and you want to close your legs as you see his eyes linger on your bare slit. You know he would see the slick wetness of your arousal, you could feel it on the inside of your thighs. You close your eyes, a little embarrassed by your obvious display of desire.
August starts to run his hands over the outside of your thighs, hips and waist and back again, while he leans in and kisses the soft skin of your belly. You involuntarily giggle and your hands reach for his head as his stubble tickles at your sensitive skin. Still smiling he takes your hands in his, pulls them behind your back and holds both of them in his huge paw. He returns his kisses to your tummy, but this time they are bigger, wetter and you can feel his tongue lick at your skin as he does. You try not to wriggle, you try and hold still for August, but his teasing touch is too much and you find yourself squirming as he plays with you.
Between kisses he says, “I think its time I got to know you better, Pet.” You feel the heat rise in your body and you feel your heart beat everywhere. God, he has barely even started and you were so ready for him. “Time I explored you.” His eyes looked up at yours as his tongue slid up your body and over your nipple briefly. He held his face in front of your breast, letting his breath tickling your hard bud. “Time I tested your limits.” He takes you in his mouth, sucking on your nipple, and letting his teeth graze you, your body shuddering with pleasure.
Looking up at you August’s voice is suddenly serious, “If you need me to stop, say Red.”
“Red to stop,” you repeat, letting him know you understand.
Letting go of your hands, August lifts you by your waist and sits you on the table. “Lay down, pet.” He says, pushing against your shoulder. He lifts your legs so that your heeled feet rest on his thighs. You moan, and want to draw your knees together, but you feel his hands on the inside of your thighs pushing them further apart. You are completely on display for him, you can hide nothing as he continues spreading your legs. You shut your eyes, tight. Your mind and body were in conflict. You were on fire, hot with lust and need, but your mind wanted to say no, to stop, you couldn’t stand the embarrassment.
“Spread your lips wide for me, pet. I want to see your cunt dripping wet for me.”
You shake your head, you can’t do that. It was too much. Already so exposed and naked, the thought of holding yourself open to him was too humiliating. “Please August,” you murmur “I can’t.”
The loud smack against your breast takes you by surprise. You hear the noise before you even register the pain. “August,” you cry. Your hands reach up, covering your breasts, and you try to rub the sting away.
“Hold yourself open. I want to see inside you.” August’s voice is low and firm, not angry, just stern. You lift your head to see him, he tilts his head and his whiskered lip curls in a cruel grin, almost like he was daring you to say no again.
Laying your head back on the table and squeezing your eyes shut, you move your shaking fingers down to your slit. You’re so wet and so aroused you struggle to hold your swollen petals apart. You hear August’s breathing start to quicken and his voice is barely above a whisper as he says, “Good girl.” You feel a finger slide teasingly over your exposed core and despite your shame your hips roll in desire. “You have such a pretty wet cunt, Pet.” His finger sweeps up your slit, his rough pad pausing on your clit. You gasp as he does, and a low moan escapes you parted lips.
August chuckles, “You’re very responsive, Pet. I like that.”
His finger moves back to your entrance, and with agonisingly slow movements he pushes his finger into you. You feel yourself clamping down on him already, you’re so desperate to be filled. Your hips start to rock as he curls his finger inside you, searching for your spot.
“Oh fuck,” you cry when he finds it, you unconsciously try to curl up into a ball as every muscle in your body contracts. Your hips move faster now, and you eagerly beg, “Please August.”
“You are an impatient little slut sometimes, pet,” August says as he lays an arm over you, stopping your undulating hips. “I think patience will be your next lesson, but lucky for you, today I want to watch you cum.”
Without warning, August pushes a second finger inside you. You cry out as you feel yourself stretching to accommodate him. You were so close to coming, your whole body felt pulled tight like an elastic, ready to spring apart when the tension got too much. Your fingers start to hurt as you hold yourself open. Even your fingers feel tight, ready for the release of your orgasm.
Your thighs start to tremble and you feel the warm wave start to rise from your toes. “Are you about to come pet?” You barely hear August through the fog bliss you’re feeling as his fingers dance inside you, coaxing you to your peak.
“Yes,” you say through your moans.
“Ask permission,” August says.
You’re so close you can’t make sense of his words. “What?” you ask.
“Ask me if you can cum. This is my cunt pet, I will control when you cum. Or I can stop now.”
You understand that threat, “No, no, please don’t stop.” Panting, and breaking out in sweat you say, “Please August, can I cum?”
“Yes, my needy little slut. Cum for me. Now.”
And you do. You don’t know if it was because he told you to or if it was because you were so close anyway, but when he said now, you felt a wave of warmth flood you. Your body pulsed and your core milks at his fingers and they keep hitting your spot. It feels like your orgasm lasts for an age and even as you come down from your high, you tremble in little after shocks.
You are in such a haze you don’t notice August removing his fingers until you feel both his hands on your knees, pushing them up and out as he stands. Wrapping his arms around your thighs, he gives them a tug. Your ass is barely on the table and in your malleable state, you feel like you’re going to fall off, but he holds you there.
There’s a new sensation at your core, and you groggily sit up, resting on your elbows. You see August, cock in hand lining himself up. You whimper, not yet, you think. Augusts lifts his eyes and you’re caught once again in his piercing blue eyes. His shows you his teeth and grabs your throat as he impales you with his cock.
You would have thought that you would adjust to his size quicker after the euphoria of your orgasm, but you were wrong. You feel yourself reluctantly stretch around him, and despite the pain, as he fills you, tears you apart, it feels good, he feels good.
August pulls you up by your throat, and you wrap your legs around him for stability. You think he’s going to kiss you, but he studies your every facial expression, listens to every little moan as he starts to fuck you. Still feeling weak, every thrust from August throws you, his firm grip on your throat was the only thing stopping you from falling back on the table.
“You look so good, pet,” he grunts at you through his gritted teeth. “You look like a slut, with your pretty mouth moaning for more.” He leans in close to you, and growls into your ear, “But you’re not just a slut, pet. You are my slut.”
You cry out as he says it, his claim of you relights the fire between your legs and you start moving with him, trying to fulfil the growing need inside you. You grasp his shoulders, holding onto him as he keeps whispering in your ear, “You greedy girl, you want to cum again don’t you?”
“Please, August,” you say. He raises his head and sticks two fingers in your mouth, pushing them in deep, almost making you gag. As you build to your peak so does your boldness and this time you find Augusts eyes. You run your tongue around his fingers, before starting to tease them and suck on them.
August snarls as he watches, and increases his pace. You want to cum again, but you don’t want to stop sucking his fingers. But then August breaths a curse, “Fuck.”
You couldn’t hold it off now, you say around his fingers, “Pease August, can I cum?”
“Fuck, yes,” August is as lost as you are and as you fall over the edge, and your pulsing walls grip his cock he thrusts into like he wants to tear you in two. On his last pump he lets out a deep rumbling growl, before his whole body shudders. You had never seen a man who came like him, the way he doesn’t hold back, the way he lets his primal urges over take him, the noises, all of it was so fucking hot.
August leans his sweaty forehead against yours while you both get your breath back. His hand still holds your throat but he moves it under your chin, and with the gentleness that always surprises you, lifts it and kisses you with soft lips and a caressing tongue. You kiss him back, matching his mood, softly licking at his lips.
With a final kiss, August pulls away and helps you to your feet. “Ok?” he asks. You nod and he chuckles briefly, “Who knew you had both a degradation kink and a praise kink?”
You look away from him, embarrassment filling you. August sees it and lifts your face to his again. “I fucking love it,” he says. “Much more to explore.”
You smile, still a little shy about it, but not as embarrassed. “Come,” he says and takes you to his bedroom where you both get in bed and you lay like you had that morning.
You stay awake, pretending to sleep, keeping your breaths long and steady. Eventually August drifts off, and you wait until he falls into a deep sleep.
You slowly get out of bed and creep over to the dining table. You lift August’s laptop from the chair he had left it on. You open it and enter the password you saw him use on the plane. Your hands start sweating as the machine connects to the CIA network. You think you hear a noise and you look behind you, but you can see or hear nothing.
You type August’s CIA log in and enter another password. You are worried about this one, you aren’t sure if you had been able to catch all of it. You release the breath you didn’t realise you were holding when the CIA logo fills the screen.
You feel eyes on you and the hair on the back of your neck starts to rise. Terrified you turn around and come face to face with August and his unforgiving eyes. “What do you think you are doing, Pet?”
Part 5
Tag List:
@henryobsessed @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @posiemax @nostalgicb-txh @moonlacebeam @anitababi @agniavateira @blakerogue @shadesofarrogance @mansaaay @stxlemate
#august walker#august walker x you#august walker x reader#henry cavill#henry cavill fanfiction#august walker smut#august walker fanfiction#henry cavill fic#fanfic#mission impossible 6
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Special Agent Ortega x f!reader
WC:2.7k
Warnings: P in V sex. F!receiving oral. Canon type violence. Death. Swearing.
Summary: Ortega makes the mistake of crossing the wrong woman.
Trust
Ortega should have known better. The bathhouse had been quiet when he entered. Not enough to raise his suspicions but given it was the most popular bathhouse in the surrounding area, he usually expected to hear the sounds of a good time coming from behind the doors lining the hallway.
What should have aroused his suspicions is that not one girl had come near him. There wasn't one offer to scrub his back. His favourite girl didn't come by to offer to scrub more than his back. There wasn't any 'accidental' intrusions to see if the rumours were true that he was packing far more than a Smith and Wesson.
The cigar in his hand was about half way done when he started to worry that turning down the love struck advances of his best girl may have put him in ill favour, Hell hath no fury and all that. That's when the thought struck him and the cold metal met his back. Shit. He'd be worried about the wrong woman.
"Drop the cigar in the water." You nudge the barrel of your gun further between his bare shoulder blades.
He holds the cigar up in his fingers to regard it. "That would be such a waste."
"You can waste it or I can waste you when you try to burn me with it." You counter.
"Do you think I would do that to you?" He scoffs.
"Oh, I know you would." Ortega lets out a scream unbecoming of a Special Agent in Charge as you tip the ice bucket over him to extinguish his potential weapon.
"Puta!" He shakes the cold water from his hair as it drips down his spine.
"There's no need to be rude, Nacho." You tsks.
"I've told you not to call me that. Only my abuelita and my loving wife call me that. You are neither." He scowls over his muscular shoulder.
With a hand lay over your heart you gasp. "Oh, Ignacio. You wound me."
"Given half the chance I will." He smirks.
Moving back slightly you smile to yourself. "I know and that's why you won't get one. Up. Slowly."
Ortega stands in the tub, as he gets to his full height he grabs a towel to cover himself.
"Nuh-uh. Drop the towel." There is no way you are giving him anything he can use against you.
"Are you that desperate to see what you are missing?" He makes a point of stretching his long legs as he steps out of the tub. His long cock dangles as he does. Even soft and cold, he's impressive.
Mentally shaking away any thoughts of just how impressive he can be, you tell him. "No. I just really don't trust you."
Ortega laughs. "You're one to talk."
He still blames you for what happened between you? That's rich. "Imagine my surprise to find that you'd gone straight."
"It made sense. They hand those out to anybody willing to sell their soul to Uncle Sam." He jutted his strong chin towards the badge on his vest a few feet away. If you're going to kill and con people you might as well do it with benefits." His broad shoulders shrug and the muscles ripple in his back. A back that used to be marked by trails from your fingernails.
"Sell your soul? I thought I owned that?" You tease.
"Only until death do us part. After that I'm free." He bites over his shoulder as you ogle his ass.
His perfect profile comes into view as he turns to you, highlighted by the afternoon sun.
Taking another breath after the one he stole you snipe. "Oh, you'll miss me."
Ortega turns to you, his tongue wets his lips. He'd like to say he'd forgotten how beautiful you were. As if you didn't haunt him.
"Never." He challenged.
So many unspoken feelings and unmet desires hung between you.
The first shot rang out, cutting through the thick air. It was far enough away that the direction that it came from wasn't clear. The direction became clearer when the bullets splintered the wood of the door.
"Down!" Ortega pulls you down behind the tub with him, his hand cradles your head protectively.
"Do you think they're after you or me?" You asked while loading your gun.
Ortega noticed that you hadn't held a loaded gun on him. It softens him for a second but he doesn't let it show. "Debating if you can throw me to them to save yourself?"
"I mean, even if they aren't after you. You are a very distracting sight." You let your eyes rake up your husband's naked body.
Another two shots break through the door as Ortega reaches for his pants and discarded holster.
"That was closer but it only sounds like there's one of them." Snatching up your second gun from your boot, you head towards the door.
"Wait." Ortega calls after you as you let bullets fly back through the holes in the door with impressive aim.
A pained shout comes from the other side. Ripping the door open, you find the source of the pained groaning propped up against the wall; his right hand was limp at his side and his pistol was just out of reach. With your gun trained on him you edge forward to check the hallway.
Finding it clear you moved back to take a good look at the man on the floor. He is a complete stranger to you.
"You son of a bitch!" The man growls at Ortega as he appears, now wearing pants.
An amused smirk tugs at your lips. "Well he seems to know you."
Ortega rolls his eyes at you before kicking the man's booted foot. "Who are you?"
"You're one of those damn city boys that killed my brother!" The man bares his teeth. As he clutches the hole in his arm.
Ortega looks bored as he answers. "Your brother tried to draw first. My partner was just quicker."
When the man makes a grab for his gun, Ortega's bullet split his skull. The last flicker of life is the twitch of his finger against the grip.
"Don't you just make friends wherever you go." You bat your eyelashes at Ortega.
"What can I say? I'm charming." He steps closer, a small part of him hopes you remember just how charming.
His body is reacting to being close to you and he's thankful he grabbed some pants.
"Who told you that?" You try to keep some of your sassy while you also try to remember why you hadn't kissed your husband in over a year.
He steps closer still. "You…once upon a time."
"I was young and naive." Your words don't have to travel far. Your back is almost at the wall and he's still achingly close.
"It was two years ago." Another inch closer.
"I'm still young. Not so naive." You wave your gun to the side of him.
"You wouldn't shoot me." His plush lips are tantalisingly close. "Not to kill anyway."
His breath mingles with yours as you defiantly breathe. "Try me."
His lips finally touch yours. All the hate and bile is burnt away by the passion you still hold for each other.
As his lips meet yours over and over his fingers grip your waist as he inches them under your shirt. Not for the first time, Ortega reflects on how much he loves that you wear masculine clothes. They are so much more form fitting around your ass and hips. His greedy hands make their way to them. He grasps handfuls, making you squeak into the kiss.
"Such pretty sounds for me. I bet I can make you make more." The words leave his mouth then he's on your neck, sucking and biting from your ear to your collar.
With his lips at your neck feeling so good your heart and mind get lost back in a simpler time. When it was just the two of you in love. Then the world got in the way. The last four years you'd lived separate lives, only seeking each other out when the need for each other became too great. All under the veil of hating each other. The hate there was real so it easy to stretch it over the two of you to cover up the love you still held for each other.
This big score that you were here for could set you both up for life. The reality was that you still couldn't trust the man that broke your heart. It was much better to keep him at arm's length. "I don't know. It's been a while. My tastes might have changed. Someone might have taught me something new."
"Why do you have to do that? Always running your fucking mouth." His hands find your arms to drag you off the wall.
For a second you think he's done with you until he grapples you towards an open door with a bed just in view. The bed soon hits your back as he throws you up on it. Your jeans are wrenched from your body then he drops to his knees and the end of the bed while pulling you to the edge of it. Before you can work out what his is doing, his tongue flattens against your folds.
"Oh, Ignacio!" The sensation is completely new to you.
It feels beyond any pleasure you've ever felt, and Ortega has given you plenty, as his tongue parts your folds to slip inside you. It rolls inside your wanting hole for a moment before travelling upwards. It swipes at something that has you gripping his short hair tightly. Each repeated movement seems better than the last. It doesn't take long for you to feel something that you've only felt with your husband's cock or fingers inside of you. It builds almost to a peak. Then Ortega sucks on the spot he's been licking. A scream shakes the wooden building as you come. You'd heard many a tale from Europe about women climaxing without their partner entering them. This is your first experience with it. The utter delight of it is only dulled slightly by the thought of who taught your husband about it. Maybe it was the beautiful woman you saw him and his partner meet earlier. The thought varnishes even quicker than it appeared as Ignacio's lips find yours, still covered with the slick he drew from you, it's tangy and sweet on your lips. They stay glued to yours as he undoes his pants and removes his holster to slip inside you. He groans against them as he sets a hard rhythm. This is purely about him chasing his own release now but not for the reasons you think. Ortega is intent on marking you, claiming you with his release. He secretly hopes his seed will finally take root and bind the two of you back together. The thought of it pushes him over the edge. He presses his hips flush to yours to pump his thick, creamy cum as deep as he can. You can feel his warmth spread, you hope it spreads far enough.
Neither of you speak while you enjoy the excuse for closeness. When Ortega finally softens, he pulls out. He's too busy getting up and doing up his pants to notice how you tilt your hips on the bed to keep his seed inside you.
With your jeans unceremoniously dumped at your feet, Ortega finally gets around to what he knows is coming. "What do you need from me?"
The fact that you have to need something from your husband to seek out his touch stabs at you briefly before you get to the matter at hand. "I hear you have a lead on the Sixth Gun."
As if you'd said the magic word, a gun shot rang out outside, quickly followed by another. Two more followed in quick succession until it was a pattern. Two quick gunshots followed by a pause. There must have been ten pairs in all. Each getting progressively closer. There was a long stretch of quiet until heavy footfalls sounded on the stairs, they came to a stop at the far end of the hall. Both you and Otega grip your weapons ready. A single shot rings out and the footsteps retreat. These a moment of confusion before a man, a thing, rushes through the door. It heads straight for Ortega. It moves so quickly he doesn't have a chance to aim properly. He gets a quick shot off to the thing's leg, which barely slows it before it starts to claw at him. It gives you time to get a good aim at the thing's head. One shot and it's down.
Only with it sprawled on the floor do you recognise it. "He was dead. You shot him between the eyes."
Before either of you can process more feet approach, their steps hurried and stumbling. Thankfully that all come down the same narrow hallway so your position is well defensible. In the ensuing fight you try to ignore how good it feels to be fighting side by side with your husband again. This is how it should be. It's how it always was, the two of you, perfectly in sync. Until that damn job in Blackwater. The trust between you was cracked right down the middle. There was so much damage done the two of you were lost and you still hadn't found your way back to each other. Once the bodies are all dropped, Ortega grabs your hand to lead you. "Come on, we're getting out of here."
You don't question what he means by 'we' as you follow. Stepping over the bodies strewn on the hallway floor you make your way down the stairs and out into the dimly lit night.
"My things are at the Inn. My horse too. I'm grabbing them and getting the hell out of here." Ortega informs you as the touch of his hand still warms yours. As if he feels it too he adds "I could do with back up getting through the valley. It's not a great ride on your own."
"My things are in a house at the edge of town." Your lips tell him. Your eyes tell him so much more.
"Not so fast there, Partner. I believe we have a deal." The man you'd seen Ortega with earlier, another badge wearing Pinkerton, steps out from the side of the building.
"I've just seen what that damned gun can do. I'm out of here." Ortega turns to leave and winces at the unmissable sound of a gun being cocked.
"Now, Mercer. Let's not do anything stupid." Ortega finishes his sentence, whirling on his partner, drawn gun in hand.
Following Ortega's lead you point your own guns at Mecre.
"Oh! The little missus is going to back you up?! I thought she hated you?" Mercer Has a dig at his partner. While you look a little stunned. "You don't think he talks about you? He has your picture in his pocket watch. He always flaps his gums about you when he's drunk. All the pathetic regret.."
"Mercer!" Ortega warns.
"Well partner if you want to suddenly trust the woman you've been telling me you can't for the last couple of years, go ahead. How about you? You about to trust him after what he did? Do you know how much that gun is worth?" Mercer's words sew the seeds of doubt between you and Ortega. In another in sync move between you the two of you draw your second gun on each other. Mercer quickly draws one to aim at you. The three of you are caught in a standoff. All exchanging silent conversations with a glance.
"So what it really boils down to is trust." Mercer finally breaks the silence. The silence is further destroyed by gun shots. As one of the three of you falls.
A/N: According to Google (so it might be wrong), Ortega is from the Spanish for nettle, so I googled Spanish first names that came from 'stinging' as I thought it fit him. It gave me Ignacio meaning 'fiery one', then I looked for pet names of Ignacio, and Nacho was too cute to pass up.
#pedro pascal character fanfiction#special agent ortega#the sixth gun#special agent ortega x f!reader
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Masterlist
Header - and slogan - by @agentjackdaniels
Hi there! I’m Rose (she/her/they), I’m 40 and I write fics - described with complete accuracy as “ethical porn for nerdy types” - for Pedro Pascal characters.
This is an 18+ blog so, for safety’s sake, minors should not access the content below.
I love hearing from readers! All comments, reblogs, likes, DMs, and asks are very much appreciated.
If you’d like to be notified about new fics and instalments, please follow my writing blog @ladameecrit - taglists aren’t working well at the moment so this is the easiest way to keep up.
I also cross-publish to AO3 if that's your preferred reading platform.
I do block empty/untitled/ageless blogs so, if that’s you and you’re a real person, just drop me a message - or, better still, populate your blog (you don’t need to be totally specific about your age) with a few things. If you’re not sure how, just ask! I’m happy to help and I’m sure others will be too!
Thank you so much for reading!
Visiting (Professor!Ben College AU - in progress)
Pairing: Professor!Ben x OFC Lydia (reader POV/2nd POV)
Summary: Seeking a change of scenery after her life falls apart, European art historian Lydia crosses the Atlantic and arrives in the small New England college town of Barrow. She’s planning to spend a year there on leave of absence from her permanent job at home, expanding her intellectual horizons as a visiting professor at Barrow College, a small liberal arts institution. Her growing friendship with Ben Morales, professor of Hispanic Literature, forces Lydia to confront the fallout from her past - and raises unexpected questions about the future.
Rating: Explicit (18+)
See the main Series Masterlist for specific warnings and content notes.
Tempered in the Fire (Blacksmith!Din Djarin AU short series - in progress)
Pairing: Blacksmith!Din Djarin x F!Reader
Summary: Ireland, almost a decade after the rebellion of 1798. You are an unusual woman: married, but alone; a widow, with no certainty her husband is dead. When your local blacksmith is badly injured in an accident and unable to work, you have no choice but to travel to the next forge, run by a man of few words whose uncertain origins and dark complexion make him stand out among the locals. You are immediately intrigued by this mysterious, taciturn figure - and the striking little boy he’s taken as his apprentice.
Rating: Mature (series); Explicit (18+, later chapters)
See the Series Masterlist for specific warnings and content notes.
Gentleman Thief - The Heritage Crimes Universe (The Thief (Casillero del Diablo) - in progress)
Pairing: The Thief (Casillero del Diablo) x F!Museum Professional Reader
Summary: He stole a priceless ruby after your first date. You reunited after the museum's winter ball. And now? Something keeps pulling you into the orbit of the world's greatest (ethical) gentleman thief.
Rating: Explicit (18+)
See the Series Masterlist for specific warnings and notes.
A Merry Fic-Mas - a Pedro Boys Holiday Fic Calendar
31 days. 31 stories (hopefully). 12 Pedro characters.
Inspired by this set of December/holiday themed prompts.
Rating: Teen/Mature/Explicit (see individual chapters for warnings and content notes).
20/20 - no outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader
Pairing: No Outbreak!Joel Miller x Optometrist F!Reader
Summary: After months of pestering from Sarah, Joel finally concedes that he might to get his eyesight checked and makes an appointment at your optometrist practice. He really doesn’t want glasses, though.
Rating: 18+; not explicit as such but implied; see the warnings on the original story
Café Crème - Javier Peña x f!reader
Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader
Summary: Your boyfriend Javier likes mornings at your place for more than just coffee.
Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI; see more notes on the original post)
A Cup of Kindness, Yet - Javier Peña x f!Reader
Part of the brilliant @pickled-pena writing challenge - check out the blog for the whole masterlist.
Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader
Summary: Another Auld Lang Syne in Laredo, twenty years after your first with Javi.
Rating: Teen (see notes and warnings on the original)
My Kiss, Only For You - The Thief x Museum Guide f!reader
Pairing: The Thief (Casillero del Diablo) x Museum Guide F!Reader
Summary: You’ve noticed a regular attendee on the guided tours you offer as part of your job at the museum - and one day, he decides to ask you for more information on his favourite exhibit.
Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI; see more notes on the original)
For the Night - Special Agent Ortega x F!Sex Worker Reader
Pairing: Agent Ortega (The Sixth Gun) x F!Sex Worker Reader
Summary: You might not be one of the “sweet young things” in the whorehouse any more, but a seemingly reluctant special agent helps remind you of your worth.
Rating: Explicit, 18+ (see specific warnings on the post).
Silvered - Detective Tim Rockford x F!Reader
Pairing: Tim Rockford x f!reader
Word count: ~ 800 words
Rating: Explicit (18+; MDNI; see specific warnings on the story)
Summary: Tim Rockford’s talented silver tongue has a reputation, in more ways than one.
Gentleman Cowboy - Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x F!Reader
Pairing: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels/Agent Whiskey x F!Reader
Word count: 3500 words
Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI; see specific warnings on the story
Summary: A solo getaway, a whiskey for one, and a very charming cowboy in the big city.
Able - Joel Miller x Disabled F!Reader
Pairing: Joel Miller x Disabled F!Reader
Summary: "I just don't think she'll be able for patrol". But then it's just you, Joel, and your trusty walking stick in the middle of nowhere...
Rating: Mature; 18+ MDNI; reader is disabled; see more specific warnings on the story.
Word Count: ~3.7k
Room Service - Dave York x F! Reader
Pairing: Dave York x F!Reader
Summary: You’re at one of those generic conference hotels to meet a man you know only as Dave.
Rating: Explicit 18+ MDNI; more specific warnings on the story
Word Count: ~2.3k
Coup de Foudre - Lucien Flores x F!Reader
Pairing: Lucien Flores x F!Reader
Summary: Caught in a sudden storm on a break in Paris, you and Lucien race back to the hotel room.
Rating: Explicit 18+ MDNI; specific warnings on the story
Word Count: ~1.1k
Part of the April Showers Challenge organised by @undercoverpena
#ladamemasterlist#fic masterlist#Pedro pascal character fanfiction#pedro pascal#javier peña x f!reader#javier peña fanfiction#visiting fic#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x f!reader#no outbreak!joel miller#the thief x f!reader#the thief casillero del Diablo#narcos fic#mr ben snl#mr ben x OFC#professor!ben#professor!ben x OFC#din djarin fanfiction#the mandalorian au#tempered in the fire fic#blacksmith!din djarin#agent ortega#agent ortega fanfiction#tim rockford fanfiction#agent jack whiskey daniels#dave york fanfiction#dave york x f!reader#lucien flores fanfiction
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23/09/23
Fic Recs
The Award Dieter Bravo x f!reader
by @pedropascalsx
Doughnut Debauchery Marcus Pike x reader
by @secretelephanttattoo
Kindred Max Lord x f!reader
by @daddy-dins-girl
Develop Joel Miller x f!reader
by @missredherring
For The First Time Jack Daniels x reader
by @stardustandskycrystals
It's You Marcus Moreno x f!reader
by @chaoticgeminate
My writing
Trust Agent Ortega x f!reader (It's older, but I didn't include it in my last round up)
@kirsteng42 @prolix-yuy @thegreenkid2 @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed @aynsleywalker @mswarriorbabe80 @rise-my-angel @adancedivasmom @kinda-nobody @movievillainess721 @munsonownsmyass @mandoloriancookie @faceache111 @elegantduckturtle @manazo @simpingcowboy @pedrit0-pascalit0 @yourcoolauntie @pedrostories @geekrenaissance @its-nebuleuse @sherala007
#fic recs#pedro pascal character fanfiction#dieter bravo#jack daniels#marcus pike#marcus moreno#max lord#joel miller#agent ortega
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