#dilfistquickwrites

you drag your tongue in a lazy line down towards his waistband, right over the messy trail of curly unkempt hair over his belly before it looses itself under his jeans.

"these need to go off" you murmur, fluttering eyelashes and eyes all innocent. like a show.

"what for? 'm gonna come in this fucking pants 'fore you even get my dick inside that filthy mouth of yours" he chastises, voice low and gravelly, fingers tightening around your hair.

"want me to stop?" you ask sweetly.

joel tugs the fistful of strands on his closed fist harshly to make you look up.

"did i say i do?"

your fingers find the buttons. "no"

through gritted teeth, "then don't"

your chest flutters at his lack of patience and self-restraint.

"i've got you good, haven't i, old man?" you tease without malice, but a lick of your lips might say otherwise.

"shut up and hurry" he says, a breathy sound slipping in between.

one thing about your man is, behind closed doors, inhibitions are gone: never would townsfolk guess that who they feared upon his arrival, stories and blood trailing behind, or the one they've come to respect, he who has put his worn hands into expanding their home, is such a noisy little crying thing in bed.

(be it how touch starved he was or age, you feel blessed)

another thing is, he loves to have your mouth around his cock, not caring how loud and messy he can get when that happens.

"impatient, aren't we?" as you unbutton and get rid of his belt. it lands with a thud in the silent room filled only with your teasing and his gasps for air, lungs getting all worked up.

"quit teasin'" as he helps you bring them down until it hits the floor, "actin' like you don't love to have your pretty lips 'round me"

"never said i didn't. i just love to see you all flustered"

he scoffs, "you're mean"

"i'm yours"

joel chuckles weakly, "how's that supposed to correlate?"

"because you chose me" you pull the soaked sticky underwear down, "means you like me the way i am"

his cock springs free: thick, slapping up against the swell of his soft stomach with a wet smack, its angry red head throbbing with need as it leaks with precum.

"no, 's 'cause i love you"

your thighs press together as your heart beats. he lets out a smug chuckle at your silence, eyes telling.

"this the part where you say i love you, joel back"

he wraps a hand around the base of his cock, giving it one lazy stroke, throat swallowing dry and heavy. you watch the motion in silence.

"you can say i got... distracted"

joel smirks, "like what you see?"

you lean in, hand over his own, laying at the base―thick enough to make your wet walls clench in anticipation.

you feel him tense under your touch as your soft-spoken tone fills the living room. "i could show you better"

he tenses again as a small fluttering kiss is placed over his skin, lips brushing right to the underside.

and then, your favorite part: a whimper. small, barely perceptible.

you smile. "keep that going for me, baby. i wanna know how good i'm making you feel"

you run your tongue over the thick vein that runs from base to tip. he chokes on his spit.

"remember two can play"

another whimper falls past his dry lips. "i said don't tease"

you nod, mischievous grin adorning your mouth.

"let's get to the fun part then, shall we?"

you open your mouth wider and take him in, licking around the slit to take every drop of his leaking girth.

joel groans, head falling back against the couch. "that's right, baby" he whimpers at your flickering tongue, "don't let it go to waste"

your cheeks hollow as you sink down further, lips stretching to the shape of him. you gag when it hits the back of your throat, and joel? well, he's barely holding on.

his knuckles turn white from the tight grip he's balling his fists into and each breath seems to rob him of air, puffs turning into ragged moans.

"goddamn, angel" he rasps, fingers tightening in your hair. "i-i don't think i can hold much longer if you keep on like that. you're gonna suck me dry"

you pull back, a thread of spit connecting your lips to the head of his dick before you dive back down, bobbing your head faster.

he stutters your name, syllables messy and melting into one another as you double down, hand stroking what your mouth can’t reach.

joel can't do anything but become an animal: savage, as when he thrusts up into your mouth, fucking your face just enough to make your eyes water, or submissive like a prey, right at your mercy. he could kill with his bare hands, but under your tongue and mouth? he becomes the shell of a man: nothing but a mess of whimpers and self-control.

"hey, i'm talking to ya'" he growls, voice between strained and tired.

you can imagine his toes curled inside his worn-out boots and the roll of his eyes as his head falls back once again.

"guess you ain't much of a talker, huh?" he lets out a breathy chuckle, eyes lost on the ceiling. "can't speak with my cock shoved up your throat, fuckin' minx"

you glance up through wet lashes. His thumb brushes over your cheekbone. “my pretty girl, my good girl. takin' me so well"

joel is an impatient man: he guides your mouth down further down a little by your hair. you gag a little again.

spit pools at the corners of your lips, dripping messy down your chin. his hips rock a bit, balls throbbing at the view.

"such'a mess. my mess. mine" your core clenches so tight, you whimper against his cock. he groans at the vibrations, whining, hips bucking up in the air. something creaks, probably the furniture; him. "g-goddamn. takin' care of your ol' man, choked up on 'is cock"

you watch him through heavy wet eyelashes, mouth too full to answer. you feel your swollen lips against his glistening tip, each thrust of his another inch to take.

"that's right. eyes on me, doll"

you gaze through his dark hazy eyes, mouth working harder. joel looks down at you, unable to form a sentence. his thumb brushes your cheek instead, hips rocking into your mouth.

joel's voice is wrecked when he speaks again.

"i-i think i'm gonna... p-please stop 'fore i-" he cuts off, pating. you hum around him, the vibrations making joel whine yet again. "let me- fuck. please, let me fill your mouth. gonna come in your mouth, pretty baby. please, let me fill it-"

you enjoy his rambling and panting. now, both hands find your hair, fists tightening in between damp strands.

"'s too much, angel. please, let your ol' man cum. need to- fuck, i need to- need to cum"

you nod. God, that's the signal. he won't wait any longer.

"fuck"

he spills your name as he does in your mouth, hot ropes of his thick cum sliding down your throat. you swallow on instinct, taking every spurt out of his twitching cock.

you remain on your knees, lips swollen and shiny, chin dripping with spit and him.

his thumb traces your bottom lip and then, without a warning, he hauls you up, bones creaking as the couch with your combined weight. he wraps a hand around you, pulling you into his lap.

joel's mouth crashes into yours immediately, tasting himself on your tongue. goddamn, you're going to be the death of him.

he smiles lazily, eyes lovingly drinking in the sight of you. "attagirl"

old!man joel who, despite his age, still makes the headboard hit the wall and the bed creak like his bones.

old!man joel who makes a moaning mess out of you, ramming into your pussy, tight folds clenching as he slides into you. it's all wet: your slick covering his dick, the salt of his sweat. it's all warm: his hands keeping you in place, one over your stomach and the other holding your legs up behind his back; the temperature of his body, belly pinning you down, and that of your own, pooling in your flushed cheeks and neckline, viciously marked with sloppy kisses and bruises.

old!man joel who makes you come down with a cry, throwing your head back as his name falls past your trembling lips, gasping for air.

old!man joel who follows next just by the sound of your breathless voice and sight; ruined, by him, painting your insides with his thick warm seed until you've milked his cock dry.

old!man joel who hears a creak (spoiler: it isn't the bed)

old!man joel who feels it first as a tight pull and then an intense pain. a knot that has nothing to do with sex; one that doesn't let loose with his climax.

old!man joel who still makes sure to place your legs over the bed, softly, more concerned about your wellbeing than his.

"fuck"

old!man joel who sees your face go from blissfull almost passed out post fucked up to concerned in a matter of seconds.

"what is it? are you okay?"

old!man joel whose face flushes in shame at just the thought of telling you, fumbling his words because he doesn't want to confess he just had a muscle spasm. that would mean admitting he's old, and even if you constantly assure him it's okay, he'd rather not go there; no matter the times you've told him you don't care, he still is reminded of the years, the talk of the town and his limitations compared to youthful you.

your voice is soft, not mocking. "you just had a spasm, didn't you?"

old!man joel who smiles half embarrassed, half adoring because you just know him that much. who sees your genuine care for him in your starry loving eyes.

"come here, old man"

old!man joel who lets his body collapse over you, cock still inside your warm walls, softening as he falls into your welcoming embrace.

"is this okay?"

old!man joel who feels your fingers dig into his back, applying soft pressure that has him grunting.

"i'm not an expert, but-"

"s'okay" he groans. "you're real good, baby. my sweet girl"

old!man joel who doesn't care he's older, much older, anymore. not if that means free massages and cuddles as you kiss his face and remind him he's loved, grey hairs, scars and creaking bones.

"and bad back" you add with a laugh.

"hey" he teases with a tired chuckle, digging deeper into the crook of your neck, leaving a soft little kiss there, "i just gave ya' a real good orgasm and this how you treat me? might consider leavin'"

"with a sprained back?" you tease back, "you can't walk one step without my help. you need me, miller"

old!man joel who doesn't care if he's bedridden, because that means you take real good care of him.

he hums, eyelids heavy. "yeah, that i do"

pussy drunk old!man joel who can't keep up with you, and yet, despite this, can't say no to you and gives every ounce of the last remaining energy he has at the end of the day to your greedy cunt.

pussy drunk old!man joel who slurs your name in a druken tone after hours riding him, slow and dragged like the snuffed cigarrettes laying on the ashtray next to the bed, air ashen and saline, a wet spot under where his tired body lays, over the same sheets he's been grabbing a fistful of: to not tether off the edge after you've come thrice. to let you take his cock until it's overwhelming. to let you milk it dry until your tummy bulges with cum.

pussy drunk old!man joel miller who hasn't fallen asleep because he popped a special little pill he found on the road. just for you. "my pretty cowgirl" voice raspy and hand gripping around your waist, thumb tracing your flushed skin as you keep warming his cock between your creamy folds, clenching around his girth.

pussy drunk old!man joel who doesn't let you hide into the crook of his neck as you chase your fourth orgasm, whispering slowly as if he's sedated, his brain fighting to speak coherents words. "don't you dare hide from me, pretty doll. ain't you see what i'm doin' for ya'? be grateful, and lemme see those pretty eyes". he groans as he feels your walls cramp at his words, southern drawl heavier as his voice grows thicker with drowsiness and the same lust no marbolo can snuff out, "that's right. keep on lookin', yeah"

pussy drunk old!man joel who gets lost in the repetitive drag of your hips, pace and burn just right.

pussy drunk old!man joel who kisses you each time you slam back and forth, across your jawline, lazily. busying himself playing with your hardened bare nipples and leaving licks across your neck, tasting the salt of your sweat and dried tears from each time your orgasm has become too much to bear.

pussy drunk old!man joel who squeezes your ass hard to remind himself he's alive and he should hold on for you, just a bit more, until you're tired and done using him: he'll let you take control when his stamina can't take the lead anymore.

"atta girl" he praises between sloppy pecks that leave threads of saliva between your tongue and his puffy lips. it's wet, messy. so fucking arousing. "taking real good care of your ol' man"

pussy drunk old!man joel who loses his mind each time your cunt grips against him tight like a vice with every pull and bounce against his lap creaming his dick with your slick, taking in every inch of his thick cock, whining his name, each time softer from the exhaustion, closer to your high.

"joel"

pussy drunk old!man joel whose dick twitches from the sound of your voice.

pussy drunk old!man joel who despite the pill, embarrasingly comes to your cry.

pussy drunk old!man joel who manages to laugh, a low raspy rumble, when you pout as he finally pulls out, dick softening after what feels like hours (it has been hours). he then makes you lie flat on your back, broad shoulders glistening with drops of sweat and the trail of marks you've left. hairy chest, full of messy wet hairs, raising up and down, curls unkempt all over his face.

pussy drunk old!man joel who uses the last of his energy to hover over you and open your still-trembling legs with taut arms, fingers digging inside your pussy to smear your filled-up cunt with the last drops he's managed to cum.

"y'know, baby? think you'd make a great mamma" he mumbles as you gasp for air and whimper his name, vision blurry as tired arms reach out for him to lay down next to you. "i'd like to make ya' one. 's the least you can give me after ridin' me 'till dawn, with that greedy cunt of yours, my needy girl" he laughs with adoration to himself as your eyelids flutter. "don't worry, leave that to me. you need to sleep it out"

summary: the one where ellie finds out the truth before joel. hell, even before you do ; based on this. warnings: mdni (+18), smut, mentions of pregnancy wc: 793 side note: sorry for disappearing, uni makes me want to kms. thank u for ur request!

pairing: joel miller x girlfriend!younger fem reader

boyfriend!joel who doesn't know if it's the latest patrol or that cake seth baked for your birthday the reason you've been sick the past two weeks.

boyfriend!joel who fucks the stomach bug out of you, making the wood from the old bed crack under his messy thrusts, fucking you senseless like he always does. perks of having an older partner: having him inside you (this is the end of the world, no time to find the scarce condoms left) without worrying about having a baby. he's old, he's hot, and most importantly, can't have kids anymore. (or so you thought)

boyfriend!joel who insists on taking you to jackson's resident doctor when the next day, you rush to the bathroom to puke first thing in the morning. you insist it's fine, that you usually tend to get sick easily (not very helpful on an apocalypse, but okay)

boyfriend!joel who pretends he hasn't noticed slight changes in you: your mood, late night cravings (he almost had a heart attack when he woke up for a glass of water water and found you in the kitchen, eating silently in the dark), how your breast seemed more sensible when his tongue licked circles around the pebbled nubs, and the same insistent sickness.

boyfriend!joel who brings you food or any pretty thing that reminds him of you he finds on patrol since you haven't been going due to your indisposition. you always receive your hardworking tired boyfriend with kisses that end with him fucking you day and night despite your stubborn stomach bug. it's been three years; romance ain't dead!

boyfriend!joel who comes home to find ellie sitting on the porch, a rather thoughtfull expression on her face. "what's up, kid?" she barely regards him, eyes narrowed and chin resting on her hand. "i've been... thinking" she replies on a strange tone, "i have a suspicion". joel is bored so he entertains the teenager. "oh, yeah? what it is it?" but she shrugs, like keeping the mystery to herself is funnier. "won't tell me your secret?" he teases. "you'll find out for yourself" she replies criptically, making joel sigh. "i just wonder when"

boyfriend!joel who is eating with his two girls dinner that same day, holding your hand over the table as you try to eat without emptying your stomach later. your body: message not received. you haven't even finished eating the pasta when your throat acts up and you rush to your usual bathroom-vomit-trip. you pretend you don't know what's going on with you, coming out with a (in your opinion) convincing smile.

boyfriend!joel who can't keep seeing you sick; he hates seeing you not being okay. joel should've insisted more: you're as headstrong as him, and while he normally finds it endearing or hot, he's not aroused right now. "that's it, we're goin' to the doctor tomorrow. first thing in the mornin' if ya' don't throw up all the way there". you cross your arms, ready to protest, when ellie, like only she would, blurts out what's been in her mind: "you're pregnant, aren't you?". joel may or may not have fainted at that.

boyfriend!joel who gets a test for you during his next patrol shift, so nervous he clumsily drops plenty of boxes enough to draw noise and send a clicker his way; his patrol partner kills it with ease. who's even more anxious when he hands you the test for you to take. "it's five minutes" you inform before closing the door. it's the longest 300 seconds of his life.

boyfriend!joel who feels your body colliding against his, almost making him lose his balance as he holds you tightly, feeling your little sobs rocks him slightly. a comforting hand goes through your hair; to ground you. you blabber some nonsense, but all he can think of is the feeling of your rapid hearbeat against him. "joel" you sob his name, so many emotions coursing through you, but mostly, fear and joy. "i know" he says, softly. trying to calm you before calming himself. he too feels many things. "i know"

boyfriend!joel who is about to kiss you before ellie interrupts: "cut the crying, you sappy idiots. did it work?"

"don't you think it's a little bit late to have baby fever?"

he chuckles at your demeaning tone and crossed arms.

"is that the hello i get?" pedro pouts. "geez, didn't pin you one to fall for petty grievances. it's not like i told everyone i wanted to put a baby in you"

you roll your eyes at his answer, a subtle coat of red in your cheeks. "you almost gave that old lady a heart attack!"

he scoffs with disbelief. "one, that's a very rude exaggeration. she was flirting with me too! c'mon, don't make that face, you saw it. and two, you're wrong"

he draws in closer. you gulp.

"wrong?" you whisper as his body towers over you, only shuddering breaths to be heard.

"yeah" he exhales in a deep raspy baritone, "it's never too late"

"for what?" you rhetorically ask.

his hand travels to the hem of your pajama shorts, sliding up until his palm finds your belly.

"you know what"

"a baby?"

"yeah" he confirms in a soft voice, blushing. "blame grogu for that"

you narrow your eyes. "that's an animatronic"

"you cold hearted bitch, that's my son!"

you chuckle at his antics. "what a mood killer you are. suddenly, i feel like going to bed way earlier"

pedro knows you're messing with him. still, there's subtle panic in his eyes and rushed mannerisms.

"don't" you feel him take you by the wrist. "wait"

he looks at you with big, sad, brown eyes, making you sigh.

"if you think this" you motion the whole ensemble, beefy arms under a tight purple shirt and a black vest, "is working, you are wrong"

"are you kidding me? you've got paid vacation to london! you could at least pretend it's working"

your lips curve up. "do you want me to be honest?" you draw him in closer again, toying with the expensive watch on his wrist. pedro lets put a shaky breath, nodding. "the kicked puppy look and curls are working. it always does"

"i knew it would" he smirks but looks more relieved than prideful. "anything for you. to keep you happy, i mean. you know what they say: happy wife, happy life"

you shake your head. "we're not even engaged"

his hand travels down your spine until it reaches your ass, giving it a light squeeze. "we could change that"

"like the baby fever deal?"

"yeah. we'll make the best out of it" his hands pull you towards his body, caging you in as they travel up and down, feeling your body. you sense the heat, the desire he exudes, making you shiver. "i can promise you that"

you put your lips just centimeters away from his. "then i can promise to give you what you want"

that seems to ignite some deeper desire in his dark eyes that turn molten with lust.

"fuck it" he breathes against your neck, leaving kisses there. his nose tickles, making your heart flutter as you giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. "i'm gonna buy a house in the middle of nowhere to raise our kids"

"kids?" you parrot, dumbfounded, "as in more than one?"

"a whole litter"

you choke on your own spit as the laugh bubbles out, but below, there is a fire that has begun to crack.

"what do you want to do, a soccer team?"

"maybe" he shrugs, picking you up bridal style. as he kisses your nose, he adds, "don't you think it'll be fun?"

you roll your eyes. "making them or raising them? by the time our team is complete, you'll be more of a grandfather than their father"

he lets out an offended gasp. "how dare you treat the father of your future kids like that?"

"enough of this nonsense. are you going to fuck me or not?"

that seems to do the trick.

"as you wish, mami" he groans, dropping you in the hotel room's bed.

you watch him work fast on the zipper, lowering his boxers and pants in a swift motion, his length springing free as it slaps against his lower abdomen.

"someone's eager" you gasp, breath caught in your lungs as he pushes them up. he grabs your thighs, folding them in half until they lay flat against your chest, knees tucked under your chin, "man with a mission"

his thick cock drags teasingly along your slick folds, swollen tip running over your slit. "don't make fun of me, damn it. was hard enough not to think all day about this"

"and what is that?"

"pumping you full of my kids" he answers, immediately followed by the sway of his hips thrusting forward to sink into your tight walls.

you curl your feet, drapped over his shoulders as his weight presses you down into the mattress. his gaze is locked on you: watching every little gasp and moan spill out from your pretty trembling lips, the flutter of your eyes, how your perfume melts within the smell of your combined sweat.

your eyes close in pleasure, grip tight on the sheets beneath you.

"i meant it before" he pants, hot air brushing your skin.

"i know" your voice is soft, devoid of mockery. "wouldn't we be a little late to the party, though?"

he slips out of you. you whine at the sudden loss and watch his length slap against your throbbing clit, his built lean body, dark happy trail, and even lower to where he fills your drooling pussy back with his cock.

"i don't care" he pulls out desperate whimpers from your throat, "i'd want anything if it's with you"

a pathetic cry for his name leaves your lips as he fucks the air out from your lungs, your back arching into him. he keeps ramming into your spot, the waves of pleasure hitting you.

"i love you" you manage to croak out.

pedro leans in, lips brushing against your own, voice slurring, "i love you too"

his thrusts grow messier and sloppier as you feel the familiar coil tighten.

"yes, right there. cum for me, mami" he groans, closing the space between you both as his lips wrap around yours, muffling your moans as your walls clamp tight. "let me see you fall apart"

pedro's breathing turns ragged, thrusts growing desperate as his mind runs with images of filling up your womb, belly round with kids. and how your body would change, God, your tits growing... all because of a baby. your baby.

and he put it there. he will put it there.

your hands grasp onto his back, voice trembling as you reach your orgasm.

"i'm close" you sob, "please"

pedro moans at your broken voice, the bed creaking in sync with every thrust as he makes a mess out of you.

he buries himself to the hilt, groaning deep as he spills inside of you, thick ropes of cum flooding your cunt. your breathing turns erratic as your legs twitch while every sound gets caught in your throat, before both become limp, dropping at your sides.

your pussy gushes around his cock until he finally pulls out, not before making sure every drop isn't wasted. you barely yelp when his finger slides inside, coated in both your combined juices.

"what?" pedro pants, before collapsing next to you. he is all yours: damp curls, sweaty tanned skin, wrinkles around his eyes and deep post-fucked out voice. "just making sure nothing goes to waste"

pedro pascal x younger fem!reader

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

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

word count: 2,865 words

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

Hace tiempo que quería yo sentir esto que siento.

summary: you're a mystery to the media: a renowed actor but obscure public figure. you protect your privacy so much, no one would expect you to be married to him ; based on this. wc: 1,2k side note: sorry for taking too long with your ask, citizen! (has it really been that long since cannes happened? oh my God??? kms im ROTTING) see, if pedro ever showed up with a mysterious partner he'd been hiding i'd be happy for him totally not like if he started dating someone i'd put my head down the toilet

pairing: pedro pascal x actress!younger fem reader

you think just staring at the camera might kill you. it's too bright, too... invasive. you don't have to look at your PR manager to know she's growing grey hairs by the face you must have. good? certainly not. you can even picture her making a smile for you to follow.

as if you cared that much.

cameras aren't your thing but your husband... he obviously loves it, doesn't he? the attention... he's been waiting all his life for a break-through and has a smile blinding enough to compete with the lightning set for this interview. it's a bit contradictory then, to be with you who hates it. if you could avoid all of these, you would: you're here for the love of the game. one day you got a role in a nolan film and now you're being called cillian murphy's lost twin. you're not allergic to the press or apathetic either; you just happen to have a strong appreciation for your peace and personal life.

how would the media react if they knew you were married to thee one and only pedro pascal?

because, in all criss angel fashion, you tend to disappear into thin air. your agenda only seems to fit two interviews per press tour and awards season since well, you may not be an internet darling but certainly an academy one: the movies or shows you starr in are as praised as popular, which in the end, it's counterproductive for someone as evasive as you.

your fans (you do have, surprinsingly to you) basically die from starvation, keeping the internet community alive through the drought with the little content you provide them. for real, it's embarrassing being this detached from social media when it's the thing nowadays: the last time you posted on your instagram was over a year ago for a movie you were promoting. it's reached almost a million likes since then, not only for the box office hit but also because there isn't much else of you around.

so when you and pedro get casted in a movie together, the first thing you do is shut down your phone. not even your filtered notifications can survive the engagement his name brings as of today. "really? i can't believe you can survive without a phone" he says while having dinner. yes, he's too chronically online for that, even after having deleted his twitter account. "don't you wanna see my face?" your husband pouts, only for you to reply: "through a screen when i can see it everyday?"

(that's a certified slow make out session on the couch, where time stops and he eats your lips until they feel like falling off. you, grinding on his leg like the friction enough brings your body to the edge and those little cries past your lips he loves hearing and provoking, cock hard under grey sweatpants you take off in no time)

but shutting down your phone doesn't shut down the noise you cause: the internet's daddy and the elusive artist. he is a heartthrob and you're an old hollywood star, and while pedro gave enough content to make edits on tiktok and interviews that went viral, he too was private enough for that part of his life to remain hidden.

but there's this saying that the internet never forgets, because, surprise! the movie hasn't even entered the production stage and old photos of pedro and you start circling online. from the theater days in new york, with sarah and some of your oldest friends. they knew each other since then? fans ask. oh, but there's more. suddenly, the resurfaced photos aren't enough and fans take it upon themselves to piece your interactions from the latest years.

there's the one during the emmy's where pedro looked at his hands while you gave your speech. ("i was trying not to cry!" he protests)

there's another when they ask the last movie you watched during a press tour, which was kingsman 2, then followed by a silly question for a serious starlet like you: who's your celebrity crush? you had gone quiet at that, then, very subtly, red. what a strange coincidence, huh, that the stoic face had fallen when mentioned said movie pedro coincidentally starred in?

it's his smitten face or the house you bought in hollywood hills, maybe the faint marks on his neck or the quiet smiles you gave instead of answers, no longer a polite meaning behind but a well kept secret.

you're still touring for the latest season of the show you're in as of the moment when the question, of course, pops.

"can i ask you" the interviewer says, giddy. "have you seen the rumors about pedro pascal and you being together?"

oh, i have. that would've been a proper answer. i'm flattered by them.

so far, the only headaches you've given to your PR manager are your lack of interest. maybe you'll show her how interested you can be.

"of course. i may not be active on social media but i'm noy allergic to it, i promise"

"so you've seen them?" she presses, hoping for juicy gossip.

monosyllables, ah, your favorites. "yes"

"and what do you think?"

your co-star looks at you, surprised you've spoken this many words about topics you'd never engage in before.

"now i'm curious too" they say, leaning closer to you. "i didn't pin you for a gossip connoisseur"

"oh i'm not. just if it concerns me"

"he's everywhere now and we love it!" the interviewer adds, "it does concern you"

"yes, specially if it's my relationship"

silence. your PR manager will probably quit if the pay wasn't good. the interviewer gawks, not really expecting you to play along less reveal such thing. and then your co-star, who breaks the silence with a loud: "what the f***k?"

"six years, actually" you add, feeling particularly agitating today. "and married"

out of you two, pedro always thought he'd be the one, ever the yapper, to slip up and reveal your relationship. never, in a million years would he imagined it'd be you and willingly!

"are you crazy?" pedro shouts as soon as he sees you. you don't flinch: it seems more panicked than angry.

"are you mad at me?"

"yes!" he says. suddenly, he's grabbing your face and kissing you soundly. "but not for telling?"

"then?" you ask, lips swollen and breath panting when he finally breaks apart.

"because i made a bet about who of us would reveal our relationship first" he whines, "now i owe oscar and sarah a hundred bucks!"

you giggle, "each?"

"each!" your husband shouts, exasperated. he falls into the couch, slumping over your collarbone. "life is so unfair"

as unfair as the wide spread of articles and youtube video essays portraying a timeline of your relationship. as one of them said: "i always fucking knew it"

you trace his face, lazily: over the moustache that starts to sport more grays and his curls that have gotten longer since he started to grow them out for the second season of the last of us. but he's still the same man who tied your shoes before going out the stage you shared or the one who slipped the ring that shines in your wedding finger and you only wear inside the house.

that's over now.

"can i kiss it better?" you whisper.

his eyes, those brown warm orbs you fall in love more each day, stare back.

"it takes more than that" while fighting back a smirk.

you shove him, getting off the couch. "dumbass"

"well, look at that" you giggle, "who ordered an old man on amazon?"

it's not until he walks to you that you fully appreciate the details of his makeup.

"for a minute there i thought my grandpa had come to visit me on set"

he chuckles, "is your grandpa hot?"

you arch an eyebrow.

pedro sighs, "tough crowd"

nobody is watching, which means you can freely touch his face, softly tracing the freckles and sun spots across his nose and cheeks.

"it's so real"

you hear his breath pause. he then lowers your hand. "it will be soon"

"in a decade" you reply.

pedro clicks his tongue, rolling his eyes with annoyance. "you bitch. at least give me two decades" his hands go to his hips. "such little faith on me, huh?"

"that's life" your hand reaches out again, this time toying with his curls. "but i never said it was bad. it suits you"

his cheeks turn pink, body stiff in the way it does when he receives compliments he can't quite accept. "what suits me?"

"you're compliment fishing, aren't you?" you tease, "is this a praise kink i'm not aware of?"

his voice drops an octave. "you know everything there is to know"

you smirk. "then you'd be happy to hear i'm into this" you point his face. your other hand goes to the back of his neck, slowly creeping up until it tangles in his soft curls. coco has a place on heaven for them. "the old man shtick, it's working on me"

he gulps, voice coming out strained. "is anyone watching?"

"does it matter?" eyes trained on his. "don't worry, just you and me" you then pause before asking, "should we take this back to your trailer?"

it's break time, but soon enough, the cameras will be rolling again and people will come looking. your insistence or his hard on are certainly no help, though. "i could show you how much i love your newest look"

his breath shudders.

"you have no idea how much i want that, baby" he raps.

your heart does a somersault but you keep your face controlled, adorned only by lips curled into a victory grin. in tiptoes, you draw close to his ear, hot breath hosting over his lobe.

"then let's not waste time, shall we?"

one second later and he's all over you, hands fumbling with the lock and nerves, mouth crashing into yours full of hunger, wishing to satiate it by devouring you whole. now steadier hands roams all your body, going from your back to your ass, pulling you tighter against him.

"someone is desperate"

he shut you up with a kiss, tongue so demanding as it fonds space within your mouth, you moan into the kiss, fingers tangling in his curls. a smirk forms in his lips at your state: eyes glassy, pupils blow wide; hair mussed by the mess of his desire and swollen lips glistening with your combined saliva.

"speak for yourself"

he signals the dresser where they get him ready. "we don't have much time. bend over"

you obey, heart racing as you turn, placing your palms flat on the cool surface, arching your back for him. you can hear the sound of metal from the belt buckle and the swift motion of his zipper.

"in costume?" you chuckle lowly. "that's bold of you"

"we don't have much time" he breathes, voice thick with desire. his hand slides up your thigh, finding your zipper and undoing it. pulling your jeans down, his fingers then trace the hem of your panties. you can't help but bite your lip in anticipation. "i'm saving us some"

pedro hooks a finger into the fabric and pulls it aside, exposing your wetness.

"but i thought i was desperate"

your face burns, the shade turning deeper when his erection presses against your ass.

"nothing to be ashamed of"

the way he says it, softly, devoid of teasing, makes you question things you shouldn't.

"just ask nicely"

he lines himself up, rubbing the head of his cock through your slick folds.

you whimpered, pushing back against him, trying to force him inside but his hold is firm.

"please..."

"words, baby" he breathes over your neck, "use them"

"please" you whimper needing, "i want you inside me. now"

no more words are needed as he thrusts forward. you cry for air as he feels you completely, the familiar thick shaft stretching you in the way it only can, hitting your depth. as he adjusts, you pause to breath.

"all this time and still can't get used to me" he muses, hands gripping your hips.

"that'll leave a bruise"

"lucky you then we don't have any nudity to film"

you're so tight, so wet, he can't help but grunt, breath coming up in short quick puffs.

pedro starts moving with slow, deliberate strokes that make your pussy feel on fire. with his tight grip on you, he controls your pace, skin against skin on the small space.

you bite back a moan. "you seem very calm for a man in such a rush"

"and you're very needy..." he groans, chest pressing against your back, "...for a girl who pretends she's not"

one of his hands leave your hips in favor of your breast, cupping it. you shiver.

"do we have time for this?"

you shake your head, panting. "next time"

you swear he smiles at the sound of that; given.

"i like how that sounds" pedro agrees, bitting your lobe.

how content he sounds... it makes you rock your back against him, meeting his thrusts, deeper. each thrust then seems to turn more desperate, sloppier.

"i know you're close... because i know you" he whispers in a tone that could easily pass as adoration, "so cum for me, baby. do it. for me" each word is punctuated by his gasps for air, "i know you can"

his words undo you. you shatter against the wood, fingers curling as a cry for his name you didn't mean to come out does anyway, thighs trembling and walls clenching around him. pedro keeps thrusting as you ride your orgasm, prolonging it until you were felt dizzy.

"i don't think i'll be able to film anything. fuck-"

"if you walk funny..." he murmurs, lips trailing down your neck, teeth scraping over your shoulder blade, "just say you fell"

"over your dick?"

his thrusts grow faster, the dresser creaking beneath you.

"i'm close" he announces through a ragged voice, "in or out?"

"inside..." you beg. "fill me up, please"

when you say those words, it always makes him lose control. fuck, just the thought of you filled up to the brim by him could be enough to make him cum. it is easy to drive in then, a final push, burying himself deep before his release: hot, thick―seed painting your walls white. you wish he'd stay there forever.

but he pulls back, trying to settle his breath and heartbeat. this pussy will give you a heart attack, old man you think, yet you can't bring yourself to joke about it for some reason.

no one moves for what seems forever, thick silence stretching too long for your liking as you get dressed. with his face facing away, you take the leap.

"i mean it before" you swallow the knot in your throat, "about you looking good"

the fluster is visible even beneath the makeup. "you don't have to lie just because i made you cum"

you snort. "can't take compliments like normal people?"

his voice grows softer. "you mean it, then?"

the smile that breaks into your face threatens to split it into two. "when have i ever lied to you before?"

"we'll see about that" pedro answers but he's smiling too. and then, before you can think it or he regrets it, he kisses your nose.

"pedro?" a voice cuts in. outside. "are you there? tell me you're not asleep. i'm your stylist, not your alarm. i don't want to wake you up again"

uninvited disappointment creeps in.

"time's up" pedro whispers, pulling away. as if he can read the emotions you desperately try to conceal, he adds: "we'll continue later. didn't we agree on that?"

"i was afraid you'd forgotten" you whisper back.

"me? never" he looks rather offended. "don't worry, we have plenty of time. lucky for us" he leans in for one last kiss, "this isn't the apocalypse"

"coming!" he says out loud before facing you, chest up and down as he tries to even his breath. "what's today's little lie?"

your fuzzy brain can't come up with a better lie as you fix yourself. "rehearsing?"

"i see. aren't we experts by now?" pedro winks, making your heart race yet again. "we sure must be, doing it all the time"

your heart doesn't quiet down as he goes to greet coco and she greets you too, seemingly unaware thanks to your assuring smile.

what did you get yourself into?