#pedro pascal daily

[xbeababyx]

I’m obsessed with this angle.

[piastrionelli]

he is so boyfriend material

[millermami]

andy omg write something for this PLEASE (if u can and want ofc)

baby girl you’re insane for sending me down that rabbit hole on the account. for the record, the kissing scene?? i tried to explain this as best as i could!!!!!!

i don’t like the way he’s lookin’ at you

ft: jealous x dbf!joel miller x you genre: angsty smut

contains: insane makeout, fingering, mdni 18+, possessive joel, jealous stalkerish (sorta) joel, age gap

summary: your dads best friend can’t seem to shake you from his mind, especially when he’s watching you sit across from a guy who isn’t him. but you’re not anyone’s but joels. he makes that very clear. (2.1k)

jealous

Joel’s hands were tight on the steering wheel, knuckles pale in the dim streetlight glow. He hadn’t meant to stop—hadn’t meant to park a block down from the diner he knew you’d gone to. But the second he saw you walk in with him—some kid, hair too neat, shirt too pressed—Joel’s stomach twisted into knots he couldn’t untangle.

He tells himself he’s just making sure you’re safe. That’s the excuse. The same one he’s been using for months now every time he hovers too close, every time his eyes stray where they shouldn’t.

But sitting there in his truck, headlights off, engine ticking as it cooled, Joel knew damn well it wasn’t safety that had him watching. It was you. Always you.

You were laughing. Joel could see the way you tilted your head back, hand over your mouth, shoulders shaking. That laugh used to be his reward after long days—after fixing your busted faucet in your new apartment your dad got you, after teasing you over your stubborn streak.

Now it was for someone else.

The boy reached across the booth and touched your hand. Joel’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached. You didn’t pull away. Hell, you leaned in.

“Christ,” he muttered under his breath, gripping the wheel harder. “What’re you doin’, girl?”

The sight of it gutted him. Not because he thought you owed him anything—hell, he’d made damn sure to keep the line between you sharp and clear—but because he couldn’t stop imagining the way that kid must think he’d won something. Like Joel hadn’t been there first. Like Joel hadn’t already memorized the sound of your voice soft and close, hadn’t already felt your hand brush his arm a little too long when you thought nobody was looking.

The longer Joel watched, the worse it got. Every smile, every lean-in, every flicker of your lashes across the table was a blade turned in his chest.

He hated himself for it. Hated how old he felt sitting there, hidden in the cab of his truck like some coward. Hated how much it mattered.

You deserved this, didn’t you? Someone your age. Someone who’d take you to crowded diners on a Friday night. Someone who’d dance with you in the parking lot, buy you flowers, write you stupid songs. Not a man twice your age with scars he didn’t talk about and a temper he barely managed to leash. Not a man your dad trusted.

Still—when that boy reached out again, this time tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, Joel’s body jolted forward before he even realized it, like his truck was about to lurch into gear.

He stopped himself with a ragged breath, pressing back into the seat, scrubbing a hand down his face.

“Easy, Miller,” he growled at himself.

But his eyes betrayed him, snapping back to the window, to you. You looked so soft in that yellow glow, so damn beautiful it hurt.

And then—like you knew. Like some invisible tether was stretched tight between you—you turned. Your gaze flicked past the boy, past the window, straight toward where Joel’s truck was parked in the dark.

His chest seized.

For half a second, he swore your eyes met his. Recognition flared across your face, faint but real. The corner of your mouth twitched—almost a smile, almost an acknowledgment—and Joel felt the air leave his lungs in one crushing rush.

Joel didn’t move when your eyes found him through the window. Didn’t duck, didn’t pretend he wasn’t there. He just sat, heavy and solid in the shadows of his truck, watching.

And you—oh, you caught on quick. The way your lips curved, just slightly. The way you leaned a little closer to the boy sitting across from you, hand sliding across the table until your fingertips brushed his. Joel’s chest went hot, his jaw tight.

You were putting on a show. For him.

The kid looked thrilled when you laughed at something dumb he said, like he’d earned it. You let him. Even leaned in enough that Joel swore his blood pressure spiked.

Then you reached for your phone, thumb tapping deliberate. Joel’s own pocket buzzed. He dragged it out, eyes never leaving the diner window.

“Yeah?” His voice came out rougher than he meant.

You smiled—smiled right at him while that boy sat clueless in front of you.

“Hey, Joel. You can pick me up now. Dad said to give you a call when I’m ready.”

Joel didn’t answer. Couldn’t. His chest was tight, throat locked. You hung up before he managed a word, smirking like you knew you’d just pulled the pin from a grenade.

Then—just to twist the knife—you kissed that boy’s cheek when he helped you out of the booth, soft and quick. Joel’s grip on the phone turned bone-white.

Joel sat there in silence, engine dead, watching the kid’s car pull away from the curb. Only when the taillights disappeared did he finally turn the key, the familiar rumble filling the cab like thunder under his skin.

You were already waiting when he pulled up, casual as ever, sliding into the passenger side of his bench seat like you belonged there.

Joel didn’t say a word. Neither did you. The silence was heavy, charged, broken only by the hum of the road as he drove you back to your little apartment.

When the truck finally rolled to a stop in front of your door, you turned to him, head tilted, eyes too sharp.

“Why were you watching, Joel?”

That did it. Something snapped.

Joel turned so fast the seat creaked under his weight, one hand catching the back of your neck, the other fisting into your hair. He yanked you across the bench, lips crushing against yours with a desperation that stole your breath.

You gasped into him, your hands clutching at his shirt as his mouth moved everywhere—your lips, your cheek, your jaw, back to your mouth again like he couldn’t get enough. His teeth caught your skin, a little nip, a little claim. His thumb pushed past your lips, dragging at your mouth before smearing over your flushed face.

“Goddammit, baby,” Joel rasped against your skin, voice wrecked. “Don’t you ever do that to me again.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled around his kiss, head spinning. “I won’t—Joel, I won’t.”

“You’re fuckin’ mine,” he growled, pulling your head back just enough to make you look him in the eye, both his hands still tangled in your hair. “Don’t care if I haven’t said it out loud. I’m makin’ it clear now. You’re mine. No little boy’s gonna treat you the way I will. You hear me?”

“Yes,” you breathed, shivering under the weight of it. “Yes, Joel.”

He kissed you again, harder, like he had to seal the words into your skin. Joel didn’t let you breathe after that confession. His hand slid from your hair down to your thigh, rough and commanding, and then he was shoving your knees apart against the cracked leather of his truck bench.

“Spread,” he muttered, low and sharp, his voice full of gravel. “Now.”

You gasped when his calloused fingers found the hem of your dress, yanking it up, higher, until cool air kissed your thighs. “You wore this for him?” His eyes flicked up to yours, dangerous and dark as his fingers felt the soft material of your dress between them.

Joel’s breath hitched when his hand brushed lace. “Oh no, baby,” he rasped, thumb pressing against the delicate fabric. “Don’t tell me you wore these for him too.”

You shook your head, words stuck in your throat, but Joel wasn’t having it. He hooked a finger under the band, tugging it cruelly to the side until the lace bit into your skin. His middle and ring finger sliding through your slick folds, rough and unrelenting. His touch was possessive, a filthy claim, pressing just hard enough to make you squirm.

Your whimper spilled out, back arching against the seat. Joel’s fingers moved again, slower this time, sliding up through your wetness until he pressed against your clit.

“This,” he said through gritted teeth, circling cruelly. “This ain’t for him. This is for me, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” you gasped, hands flying to clutch his arm, nails digging into muscle. “All of it. All for you, Joel.”

That was all it took. His fingers pushed inside you, hard and deep, knuckles stretching you until you cried out. He swallowed the sound with his mouth, kissing you hard, sloppy, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to devour your lips or your moans more.

“You’re drippin’ all over my fuckin’ hand,” he groaned against your mouth, pumping his fingers into you fast, thumb grinding tight circles at your clit. “Gonna fuckin’ lose it watchin’ you like this.”

Your head dropped back against the glass of the passenger door, body trembling under his hand. Joel leaned in closer, voice hot against your ear.

“You’re mine, baby girl. Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you sobbed, hips rocking helplessly against his hand. “Joel, I’m yours.”

“Atta girl,” he snarled, curling his fingers just right, hitting that spot that made your whole body jerk.

The truck rocked under you, Joel’s hand buried deep between your thighs, fingers driving into you with rough, possessive thrusts. Every pump was sharp, unrelenting, his palm grinding hard against your clit until your body was arching off the seat.

“C’mon,” he muttered through gritted teeth, eyes locked on your face. “Look at me while I do this. Look at me, baby girl.”

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his dark and hungry gaze, and that was it—your body seized, legs shaking as the heat snapped inside you. You came hard around his fingers, soaking his hand, sobbing his name as the truck’s windows fogged from your breath.

“That’s it,” Joel rasped, his forehead pressed to yours, still fucking you through it, his jaw tight with restraint. “That’s my girl. That’s it, baby girl. I got you.”

Your thighs trembled against his wrist, your hands clawing at his shoulders. Joel finally slowed, easing the pace, fingers slipping free only to slide against your slick folds one last time before he pulled back.

You collapsed into him, panting, cheek against his chest. Joel caught you, strong arm winding around your waist, the other hand cupping the back of your head. He pressed his lips to your temple, then your cheek, then finally your mouth, each kiss softer than the last, chasing away the harshness with something gentler, something he could never put into words.

“I got you, baby,” he whispered against your skin, voice ragged but steady. “Always.”

Your body was still trembling, thighs twitching against his wrist, but Joel didn’t let up. His fingers stayed buried inside you, slow thrusts dragging against your swollen walls, keeping you stuffed even after the last pulse of your orgasm faded.

“Jo–Joel…” you babbled, words breaking, lips swollen from his kisses. “C-can’t—”

“Shh,” he hushed you, leaning in close, his forehead pressing to yours, his eyes burning into you. “Look at me, baby.”

You did—barely, lids heavy, eyes glassy—but you looked. And Joel nearly lost it right then. You were so fucked out, so sweet and dirty all at once, breath stuttering, hair messy from his fists. Beautiful. His.

When he finally slipped his fingers free, you whimpered at the loss, clenching around nothing. Joel’s mouth twisted, a sound low in his chest as he cupped your cheek with his clean hand.

“I know, baby,” he murmured, eyes soft but dark. “I know.”

Then—deliberate, unhurried—he brought his soaked fingers to your lips.

“Open.”

You obeyed. He pressed them past your mouth, dragging them slow over your tongue. “Sweet, huh?” he rasped, watching as you moaned around his skin, cheeks hollowing.

“Goddamn,” Joel growled, pulling them back with a wet pop. And then—like he needed to ruin himself further—he shoved his hand down again, collecting more of your slick before dragging those same fingers into his own mouth.

He moaned at the taste, deep and guttural, head tilting back as if he could savor you down to his bones.

“Mine,” he said when his eyes snapped back to you, voice wrecked and certain. “That’s all mine, baby. Don’t you forget.”

The truck cab thick with fogged windows, your breath still uneven, his hand still warm from being inside you. Both of you trembling, both of you knowing there’s no going back. Later? The details can be worked out but for now, you’re his. And he wasn’t done with you just yet.

[daltoncharm]

Pedro Pascal eating a taco. That's all you need to know.

[brookeswords1]

Investments

Parings: harry castillo x fem!reader

Content warnings: smut, explicit p n v sex, oral sex (f and m receiving), protected sex, cuming inside, multiple orgasms (f), casual.

A business meeting becomes more personal as Harry decides to invest in more than just a project.

Request your story here.

The elevator takes its time climbing the top floor of the big Castillo Capital Management towering building. You’re accompanied by Mr. Castillo’s secretary. The executive waits for you for a meeting about an estate project your boss wants him to invest in. You’ve never seen him in person - only in photos, articles and of course in the dreams of every employee at the construction company. He has been a big client for years, but you only started to work there a few months ago. Everyone says he is an imposing figure - extremely charming and handsome, but really reserved and professional. 

His secretary knocks on the door that will probably give you access to him. You wait for the signal to enter, which comes after a few minutes. You step into the meeting room wearing a lilac button-up shirt, neatly fitted, with the sleeves rolled slightly up to your forearms, paired with a pencil skirt that ends just above your knees, outlining your silhouette without losing elegance. Your hair is tied back in a loose ponytail, a few strands falling against your face. A black folder rests under your arm.

The meeting room is simple and minimalistic, leaving the window view to be the protagonist. New York stretches beautifully beneath the afternoon sun, which reflects against the white marble table in the center of the room. Beige chairs surround it. Harry waits for you at the head of the table. Without a doubt, he manages to take your breath away faster than the view. You walk toward him, the only sound in the room being your heels against the floor.

“So pleased to have you here…” he says your name in a deliberately seductive way as he extends his hand. “It’s a pleasure to be here, Mr. Castillo.” Your handshake is firm. “Harry, please.” He points to the chair. “Have a seat… Would you like some water or coffee?” “Water, thank you. I’d rather stand—it will make it easier to show you everything.”

While he goes to the minibar for your water, you open the folder and spread out the documents across the table. It’s a historic building that will be transformed into lofts in the SoHo area. You hear his steps approaching.

“So… tell me, what is René trying to sell me this time?” Harry places a glass in front of you and serves you, but does not sit down. “Something spectacular, Mr. Castillo…” “Harry, please.” “Harry…” you clear your throat. “Allow me to introduce you to the company’s new project. It’s located in SoHo. The building already exists, but it’s historical—adjustments and renovations will be required.”

“Tell me… and be honest. Do you think this building is worth it?” He points at the rendering of what the project will look like once complete, but the way he speaks suggests his attention isn’t fully on the papers.

“Without a doubt, Mr… Harry.” You take a deep breath as you feel his body lean in closer, almost brushing against yours. “The location alone guarantees that even during renovations, the property value will increase by at least 80%. The vintage layout—currently in high demand—makes it a solid investment. I brought you all the data you’ll need to make the best decision.” You can hardly believe you managed to say it all, exuding confidence in yourself and your work.

“You’re managing to impress me… Not many people can do that.” His smile makes your knees weaken. “Tell me, darling, would you buy a loft in this project?” “Without a doubt. I’d choose the penthouse—it’s the largest in the area, with a massive outdoor space.” “I’m impressed… Would it be bigger than mine?” His eyes lock with yours.

You hold his gaze, feeling the heat rise, unsure if it’s the blouse being too warm, the air conditioning turned off, or simply the nearness of him. He moves a folder closer, his arm brushing yours, his hand touching yours. The closeness is almost intoxicating.

“Maybe, Mr… Harry.” You swallow hard. “We did extensive research, and yes, it is the largest in the region.” You show him the comparison chart. “Wow… you’re seducing me with these numbers.” His voice is nearly a whisper. “That’s the goal—to show how compelling this project really is…” You straighten your posture, meeting his eyes as he leans further over the table, gaze fixed on you. “Not just the project…” His eyes trail down your body. “I can’t decide whether to close the deal or not—I’m distracted. And I don’t usually get distracted in meetings.”

You freeze, your eyes locked on his. The moment lingers longer than necessary, thinning the boundary between professional and personal. The room feels smaller, more intimate. Your chest rises and falls more quickly than it should. The air grows heavier.

Harry shifts closer, the space between you nearly gone. He rests a hand near yours. His scent fills your lungs, and warmth builds between you. His hand slides across the table, edging nearer to yours.

“You know… I’m interested…” he says in a low, provocative tone. “But not only in the project.”

A shiver runs down your spine, your legs and hands trembling, though you keep your gaze steady, projecting confidence you no longer feel. Instead of yielding to his provocation, you lean over the table again to show another detail, and he leans even closer, his body brushing yours. The tension intensifies, each breath shared, his touch electric against your hand.

“Perhaps we should focus… on another part of the project.” you whisper, teasing, as he pushes the papers aside.

When you turn to face him, he’s smiling faintly, eyes locked on yours. He leans in closer, so close your breaths mingle. The world around you disappears: the papers, the folders, the marble table, New York itself… everything fades before the intensity of this moment. You turn your back against the table, and he finally closes the distance, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss is firm, exploring, charged with desire. You answer with equal intensity, releasing all the tension that had been building until now.

“Without a doubt, the most interesting negotiation I’ve ever had…” he murmurs against your lips, a mischievous smile playing across his face.

You feel there’s no more air in the room, your bodies pressed together, and you realize the technical meeting is over. His hand at the back of your neck pulls you closer, sealing another kiss, deeper this time. Your tongues meet in a perfectly orchestrated rhythm. His hands trace along your thighs, lifting you onto the cool marble table, and you don’t care.

Your fingers tug at his slightly loosened tie, pulling him closer—closer still, though it already feels impossible. Your lips part for just a second, long enough to pull the tie over his head, before finding his mouth again in a desperate kiss. His fingers unfasten your blouse with practiced ease, revealing the lace of your black bra. You mirror him, stripping his shirt off and tossing it aside without breaking the kiss. His lips trail along your jaw, down the sensitive skin of your neck, lingering across your collarbone before pausing at your chest.

“Someone might walk in…” you glance at the door just as he opens your shirt further. “No one comes in while I’m in a meeting—avoiding distractions. And I sent my secretary out for coffee with her friend, I am a great boss.”

At that moment Harry kneels in front of you, tossing your heels behind him. He kisses your leg slowly, moving up from your calf to your thigh, where he lingers, pressing soft kisses against the inside. A low moan escapes your lips.

“I don’t like being distracted…”

You can feel the heat of his breath against your pussy. Your hand slides to the zipper of your skirt, pulling it down and helping to raise the fabric higher. The man’s eyes rise directly to yours, while his lips touch the soaked laced panties. He bites it gently and you hold back a moan, biting your lower lip. Harry pulls your panties carefully, provocative, eyes still lockes in yours. He pulls your thighs closer, positioning you closer to the edge of the table.

First he slides his tongue on the insides of your thighs until he reaches your lips. His warm mouth in your clitoris, sucking it, causing your head to fall back and you let out a moan, he brings his hand up and places it over your mouth. Still working on your clit while two fingers get inside of you, causing an instantaneous shiver. You had known each other for less than thirty minutes, yet he seemed to know your body as if he’d known it for thirty years, knowing exactly where every point of pleasure lay. His pace raises, in the tongue and fingers, stars shining bright under your eyelids. Your breath and heart racing with Harry’s movement. You feel the heat wave wash over you, your walls clenching on his fingers and he enjoys the memento to suck in your clit to make your orgasm longer. Your hand lays on your mouth to keep you from screaming one of the company’s head names at the top of your lunges. He laughs and wipes you off of his red mouth with the back of his hand.

“I am starting to consider not only investing in one project, but maybe in two…”

“I bet you’ll be leaving this room wanting three more…” your eyebrow raising and a naughty smirk on your face

You jump out of the table - warm feet against the marbled cold floor. It was your turn to be in control, and that turned you on. Such a powerful man in your hands. Your mouth locks into his with a soul consuming hunger while your fingers work at the belt and clasp of the pants he is wearing. You guide him toward one of the chairs, leaving only his boxer briefs clinging to him. Your kisses start at his neck, slowly trailing down his chest. Your lips taste a mix of expensive cologne and sweat.

When you reach the fabric of his boxers your lips feel the pulsing heat underneath it, and you smile victorious. You’ve heard other colleagues talking about him and how they’d like to have him, how wonderful he was. And there you are, needing you, making you come and ready to be savored by your mouth. Your eyes locked in his, like both of you needed this gaze to be alive. Your fingers stop at the waistband of his boxers and pull it down, releasing the throbbing length, the pre cum liquid already on the tip. You lick your right hand and slide it a couple of times on his cock. Making him sigh. So your mouth takes its time on his tip, while your hand work on the rest of the length. Hearing Harry’s low grunting make you put him completely in your mouth, leaving him wet from your saliva. 

Your movements are slow and powerful. Your mouth tightens and suck it with all the energy and lust you have inside of you. Your right hand kept on helping you to reach the places you couldn’t with your mouth - even though it is warm you mouth is not that big. The feeling of his throbbing cock inside your mouth made your wetness drip from your thighs from all the desire. You feel Harry’s close when his breath is panting, he pulls your face up, sealing a kiss. He wants it to last.

He gets up and guide you to the table again, your skirt falls to the ground and you kick it aside - just as your shirt with the help of Harry’s hands, leaving you only with your bra, that he pulls down, exposing your breasts. You stop by your purse and reach a condom that your friend’s boyfriend placed there a few days ago as a joke and now you are really thankful.

“A cautious girl…”

“Always!” you open the pack with your teeth and slide it through his length, luckily the size was perfect, like destiny was just preparing it for this moment, the joke of finding a man big enough to wear it became a reality.

“I can’t understand the reason why René hid you from me…” he laugh while lifts you up on the table “I would’ve invested so much, just to see you here every fucking day.”

You laugh “No problem at all, Mr. Castillo, I can come back if you decide to see another projects”

“The only project I want to see right now is you.”

He smiles and pushes your back against the cold table, causing you to sigh. He positions his hips in your thighs, hands gripping your hips and he pushes himself inside of you, letting a feral groan in sync with your moan. You feel all Harry’s extension settling into you, and he starts with slow movements, your eyes catching his sweat dripping from his chest to his abs. Your back arch and you let a louder moan leave your throat, not knowing if his secretary had already come back, he puts two fingers inside your mouth to prevent you from screaming. Just the sound of your breathing, skin against skin, grunting and moans filled that gigantic room. While New York is alive outside. You are so thankful for the free view - that didn’t allow anyone to see you.

Harry pulls you closer, and you feel that another orgasm is coming, he bends to kiss your body, tasting your sweat and also you, equally, expensive parfum. Harry pulls your torso towards his, kissing your mouth while still thrusting. 

“I want to see your come for me again, so I invest in two more…” he whispers into your ear, his warm breath causing shivers through your whole body and making your nipples even harder. 

He picks up the pace and claims your mouth with such intensity, leaving you closer to your orgasm, his thumb tracing circles in your clit. Your head falls back while you let the warmth dominate you whole. He doesn’t slow down the rhythm lingering your climax. The best two orgasms of your whole life, you moan in Harry’s mouth and feel the hair of his neck rise under your fingers.

One of Harry’s hands presses your nape and the other grips your hips, straddling him faster. His thrusts are getting stronger, the sound of your skin hitting against each other louder. His cock pulsing inside of you. Even though you are saddened by this amazing fuck reaching its end, you want the triumph of making Harry Castillo come inside of you. This thought makes you smile ear to ear, his face full of pleasure.

“How lucky I am… to have Harry Castillo coming inside of me…” you whisper so close to his ear that you feel his temple pulsing, and you suck his earlobe. He groan.

He does not answer with words, but soon a deep growl comes out of his mouth. Louder than expected. You feel Harry’s movements slowing - and despite the condom you can feel him realising himself inside of you, to the last drop. His head falls to your neck, breathing in all of your perfume and leaving only post sex fluids on you.

“I think I will ask you to come to my penthouse to see if the one you’re selling is really bigger…” he kisses your neck and you laugh “Then, tomorrow you can come to show me what else you have to offer me” he kisses your jaw “And then another one… I will ask René for you to be mine, exclusively”.

He also laughs and you feel the vibration of his laugh through your entire body. 

“It will be my greatest pleasure, Mr. Castillo” your voice teasingly provocative

“Harry, please… for you, my dear.”

[hauntedinkk]

kinktober day eight 8/10/25

away from home ~ p.p

tags: mdni!! smut, phone sex, mutual masturbation, fingering, brief jerking off, dirty talk and f!orgasm.

summary: pedro’s in london filming avengers doomsday so you both have to settle for the only way you both can get each other off with the distance.

the one bad part about having pedro pascal as your boyfriend was how busy he always was.

you both had your own permanent home in los angeles which was where you were staying now, but pedro of course wasn’t home.

he was out in london — an eight hour time difference mind you — filming avengers doomsday. and you were proud of him — of course you were. he’d told you before about being a struggling actor in his twenties so it was extremely admirable for him to have all these opportunities now as a fifty year old man. but that still didn’t stop you from missing him.

you were to join him in london this weekend and then you’d both return the following, but it just wasn’t enough.

was it a crime to miss your boyfriend?

well, there was another reason that you were missing him so badly.

the sex.

you and pedro’s sex life was amazing and you didn’t just miss it for dirty reasons. sometimes you just missed the feeling of his skin pressed to yours as you both made love. or those lazy mornings when spooning would turn into gentle thrusts and sleepy orgasms. you may be a little wine drunk right now but..

you just missed the intimacy.

and his cock of course.

so here you were, laying on your bed in just your robe contemplating whether you should call him or not. it was eleven pm for you which meant it would three pm for him, right around his forty-five minute filming break.

so you slid into his contact which read “pedro” and a red heart which you’d insisted was essential and demanded that he put the same next to your name. you scrolled through some of your previous texts, all of which were sickeningly sweet. “gotta film now, baby. text you later :)” , “can’t wait to see your beautiful face this weekend.” , “i love you, sweetheart. missing you.”

you typed into the text bar, hands shaking a little in anticipation.

you: “hey :) you on break right now?”

just one y, he doesn’t need to know how fucking desperate you are. not yet at least.

about a minute later you watched the “delivered” sign turn into “seen” and it made your heart flutter. yes, it had been more than year of a relationship with him and yes, he still made you feel like a teenager.

pedro❤️: “yes, i am indeed. just got back to my trailer. hi, baby.”

you smiled, he’s such a sweetheart it made you feel fucking guilty for wanting to cum over the phone to the sound of his voice.

you: “hi, i miss you.. been thinking about you a lot.”

pedro❤️: “awh, i miss you too. only three sleeps till i see you again.”

you: “uh huh. way too long.”

you watch as the typing bubble reappears for a couple seconds and then disappears. you can practically see him frown.

pedro❤️: “everything okay?”

you huffed and dropped your phone onto your belly to regain your thoughts.

you didn’t wanna worry him, it wasn’t like there was anything seriously wrong. you were just horny and missing your man, it was that simple and.. that pathetic.

you picked your phone up once again and started to type.

you: “if i told you i was a little wine drunk and horny, would you fly home right now?”

pedro❤️: “oh.. i see.”

and then your phone started to buzz. that jarring ringtone of yours blasting as he started to call you. you quickly slid your thumb right to answer him, putting your phone up to your ear and using your shoulder to keep it there as you played with your robe nervously.

“hi,” you started softly. “sooo.. i’m guessing you’re not on the next flight out?”

you heard that familiar, cheerful chuckle that instantly seemed to lift your mood. “oh, i wish. thought that we could fix your little issue over the phone though, since i’m on my break.” he offered.

you heart skipped a beat.

i mean, it was what you were going to suggest.. but hearing him say it out loud seemed to turn you on even more. make it a lot less like a fantasy and a lot more like you were about to have phone sex with your boyfriend.

“really?” you asked, grabbing the phone and putting it on speaker before setting it down next to you on the bed. “y’know, i was actually just about to suggest that.” you giggled.

“oh really? well aren’t we just two peas in a pod.” he chuckled.

you heard the sound of rustling. bedsheets?

“i assume you’re in your trailer?” you asked.

“mhm. on my bed.” he answered, and then.. “what about you?”

“same. minus the trailer part.” you chirped, adjusting your position so you could spread your legs a little more comfortably. “i’m also wearing that robe that you like..” you added in for good measure.

he made a low sound over the phone. “yeah? that pink one?”

“mhm, the fluffy one.”

“fuck, baby.” he groaned. “always look so beautiful in that.”

“mmm..” you hummed, starting to toy with the belt of your robe as if he were here and you were teasing him. you started to untie it, parting your legs even more as the robe fell open, allowing the AC cooled air to hit your aroused cunt. “wish you were here to fuck me in it, baby,” you pouted. “my pussy’s so wet just thinking about it.”

“really?” he asked rhetorically. his voice sounded hoarse, barely containing his desire. “you wanna touch your pussy for me?”

you allowed the back of your head to hit the soft pillows, a dreamy sigh leaving your parted lips as he said the words you’d wanted to hear all goddamn day. “mmm, yes daddy.” you giggled, knowing he hated when you called him that (you think he secretly loves it but is just sick of hearing the internet call him it all the time).

“daddy, huh?” you could practically hear his eyes roll back. “you wanna touch yourself for daddy?” he spat like the nickname had a bad taste on his tongue yet he still managed to chuckle.

“yeah, i wanna touch myself for daddy.” you replied smugly.

“okay, fuck can we stop before I actually shrivel in fucking disgust?” he exclaimed dramatically, barking out a genuine laugh at your giggles and attempts to be sexy. “just.. put your hand between your thighs. two fingers.”

you would’ve replied with “yes daddy” if you weren’t so incredibly desperate to feel some kind of stimulation. so you nodded your head despite the fact he couldn’t see you and trailed your hand down your belly under it reached between your legs. you dipped the pads over your fingers over your swollen clit, the gentle graze sending sparks up your spine.

he hears your gasp. the tiny, involuntary whimper when you touch yourself.

“don’t rush yourself, sweetheart,” he warns gently. “it’s just you and me. how about you dip one or two in, stretch yourself a little.” he suggests.

you didn’t even bother responding, just glided your fingers down your slit until they found your wet hole. you gave yourself a teasing touch, pushing the tip of one of your fingers in before removing it. you closed your eyes, imagining what it would be like if pedro were here right now, his hips hovering over yours while he teased your opening with his cock. you moaned at the thought and used your index and middle fingers to sink into your cunt, relaxing your muscles and squeezing your eyes that were already closed. you whimpered at the feeling. it had been so long since you’d actually touched yourself on your own.

he can hear you. hear the adorable little gasps you make as you stretch yourself out on your own fingers, that pretty moan you allowed escape your mouth when you started to pump your wrist.

“how does that feel?” he asked gently. his breaths seemed a little ragged but his voice remained relatively the same.

“feels good.. feels..” you couldn’t think of words to describe what you were feeling. it wasn’t necessarily the pleasure that you were inflicting on yourself that was getting you riled up, it was more the erotica of the situation. listening and obeying to the orders of pedro, touching yourself over the phone for him to listen to.

“that’s good, baby,” he praises, voice that same sweet-like-honey rasp that always made you crazy. “i want you to feel good, you deserve it.”

you hiccuped out little whimpery moans as you worked yourself open, fucking into yourself faster and much rougher than you would’ve ever done on your own before. “thank you — fuck, pedro. want your cock so badly.” you whined, tears starting to prick at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill. it might be pathetic — crying out of a mix of pleasure and lack of your boyfriends dick — but you just couldn’t help it. maybe you were getting your period or something.

“i know, baby. i know. wish i was there to give it to you,” he agrees sympathetically. “how about you touch that clit for me, sweetheart? make yourself cum — it might make you feel better.”

your breaths were ragged now — coming out in rough gasps as you finger fucked yourself. you nodded your head, a sheen layer of sweat forming on your forehead. “okay.. i wanna cum for you.”

“that’s my girl,” he replied and you could hear the smile in his voice, how proud he was. he always felt a sense of pride every time you came for him. not because it boosted his ego, but because that meant his girl was feeling good and that was enough for him. “touch that clit while you fuck yourself. let me hear it.”

his words go straight to your core. your fingers pump faster, hooking the way you know you like while your other hand moved quickly over your clit — and your stomach tightens. your neck tips, eyes half-shut as your head goes hazy.

“m’gonna cum — gonna cum, gonna — !” you cried softly, the coil that had tightened in your gut finally snapped and your orgasm washing over you violently. you cried out, thighs trembling as you yanked your hands away from your cunt, too overstimulated to handle any more.

“oh, there it is, that’s so good.” he praised. you can practically see his smile. the soft laugh on his lips.

“talk to me. do you feel better?”

“feel.. god,” you giggled. “feel amazing.”

you were barely coming down from your high, still so blissed out that you barely heard it at first. the clicking, rhythmic sound of watch moving.

was he.. jerking off?

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[dgct2]

Pedro Pascal posted a message on his IG about the passing of Canadian Legend Catherine O'Hara. She appeared in the latest season of The Last Of Us.

[mellarkslovergirl]

“It’s fine dad he’s only a little older…… than you.”