summary. he wasn't even your uncle anymore, having divorced your aunt about five years ago. but of course here he was, the life of the party, crashing your sister's wedding. (based on my own tweet) ╱ 5k
warnings/tags. 18+ (minors dni), age gap (50s/late 20s), pwp, p. in v., public sex, oral (m. receiving), rough sex, doggy style, bit of degradation + humiliation kink (this combo >>), exhibition kink, forced creampie, mami as a petname, nasty!renaldo (he's a chavorruco latin lover asshole with serious commitment and flirting issues), sprinkles of angst woohoo !!
notes. the snl series is back because i definetely work harder than the devil. yes, don't underestimate a horny touch starved virgin writer who hyperfixiates for a living. this filthy public sex (another episode of the writer's poorly disguised fetish) is inspired by the newest domingo sketch (ilysm marcello my short king) because the crash out i had after it ended (sabrina, bad bunny, andy samberg and pedro all in a room singing espresso? they did it for me i fear) and snl 50 in overall was kinda cathartic. here's some renaldo latin lover dick for you my lovely dilf town BECAUSE WE HIT 1K CITIZENS
You take a sip from the bubbly alcohol, the sweet taste in your lips as you savor your surroundings: music blasting through the speakers, the sound of glasses and cutlery, mellow conversations and the loud buzzing behavior your family is known for; everyone is here.
You lean to your left.
"Tía Elena is a drink away from blacking out" shouting over the music.
"Te apuesto cinco dólares a que se cae en la pista" (i bet you five dollars she falls in the dance floor)
You smile back mischievously at your brother. "Deal"
Your cousin Marcello pops up from behind, hovering like a fly over the food. Was it a thing in your family to be this fucking nosy all the time?
"What are y'all doing?"
Your other cousin Benito joins the circle, speaking over the song:
"They betting Tía Elena will fall again" he laughs, "como en la última reunión" (like in the last meeting)
"Hey! Esa es mi mamá" Marcello protests. (that's my mom)
"Jesus, Beni" you hit his shoulder playfully, "what a snitch"
"There's nothing else going on, is it?" your brother argues back in defense. "Can't blame us for trying to be entertained y tu mamá por no dejar la botella" (and your mom for not putting the bottle down)
"If you all went dancing, like me, you'd had fun" he huffs, crossing his arms.
Benito laughs, "you call that dancing?"
Marcello rolls his eyes, "I'm gonna go somewhere where they appreciate me and the art of moving your body with rhythm"
"Ain't no one stopping you!" your brother quips.
You laugh at the men's antics, looking at the dancefloor. Your eyes catch your sister, moving gracefully in her white dress, that twirls with the music. She's all smiles, and has never looked this pretty before, the happiness bouncing off her like the floral perfume she's wearing, akin to the smell of the flower arrangements hanging on the walls. It may be the day or that you'd always been a romantic, but today you had almost ruined your makeup at every chance: crying over her entrance, over the vows, over the speeches, the first dance... God, you love weddings as much as you love your sister.
"You men are insufferable" you take a long sip, "I need more female energy here but all I see is you" to prove so, your eyes dart across the room, full of drunk tíos laughing loudly while shoving alcohol down their throats, all the women on the dancefloor, where you should be. But you haven't, not since #he stopped showing around to drag you by force.
Benito snickers.
"Si tía Ana hubiera venido, tal vez" (if aunt ana had come, maybe)
You click your tongue, expression awkward. She had stopped coming to the meetings all together, like she had become suddenly allergic to her family.
"Ay, Beni" you sigh. "You know she hasn't been the same since..."
In some ways, you hadn't either.
"Yeah" he agrees.
"Oh, I would've gone mad too, you know" your brothers raises his glass. "After-"
"Well, but she's the one missing out!" Marcello adds with a loud cackle, interrupting him.
Benito looks behind him, smirking "Weren't you gonna leave?"
You all laugh at your younger cousin. "Ustedes ya no tienen respeto por nadie" (you guys don't respect anyone)
"You're supposed to respect your elders" you rob a champagne flute from a waiter passing by, the glass meeting your lips. "Not annoying cousins"
You look at both your brother and Beni, waiting for them to jump on the teasing, but they're both looking at the entrance of the venue. If their jaw is tight, brows furrowed and eyes wide open, it musn't been good.
"Pero, ¿tú me estás jodiendo?" (are you fucking kidding me?)
You follow your cousin Benito's gaze after his little comment, and the tranquil champagne now bubbles in your throat up violently, making you cough.
"What is happening?" Marcello jumps, placing himself in the middle of you all. He looks frantically around, until he meets the object of your attention, specifically, person. "Is that-?"
"Yes" you find your voice after a cough, "its uncle Ren"
In all his glory. Well, more like ex-uncle. But God, didn't he look good? Of course, that's the important part and not finding out the reason why the hell he's showing up to your sister's wedding when he's not legally part of your family anymore, not since about five years ago, when he divorced your aunt Ana. You've only heard of him as of late, your tías whispering past Christmas about how they'd seen Ren at the beach, whistling at younger ladies in clad bikins with his old gang of bachelors he used to run with before settling in. How fitting.
Talking about divorce... It did him good. Not to take digs at your aunt, but as he walks in with that confident strut of his, gold chain on that broad chest of him, glowing under the lights, hair neatly trimmed and gelled back, some more greys on his hair than you remembered, and that mustache and fucking goatee... He flashes everyone a charming smile with his full pearly whites and dimple on display, going to hug your sister who looks as confused and surprised as you do. But uncle Ren always gave the best hugs, so she accepts when he wraps her up in his embrace that smells like sandalwood, leather and cigs, strong arms caging her smaller frame. The biceps flex, and you wonder if he has started hitting the gym, despite his age.
You squirm in your seat, finishing the flute in a long sip that drags like a cigarrette.
"Jesus Christ" your brother shakes his head. "Dude's not got an ounce of shame on that body"
More like that sturdy body.
"Well, that's uncle Renaldo to you" Beni adds with a shrug of his shoulders.
"Ex-uncle" you feel the need to clarify for no reason.
"No puedo creer que se atreva a aparecer después de como terminó todo con la tía Ana" Marcello coaxes. (can't believe he has the nerve to show up after how things ended with aunt ana)
"Divorcing her?" you ask with a barely contained snicker. The men all look at you and sigh.
Alright, your preference to your uncle had never gone completely unnoticed, especially in a family as attentive as yours. But it was impossible not to fall under (ex)uncle Ren's spell: you suppose that is the reason it took your aunt so long to divorce him, despite their broken marriage that had been going on for years. Because while he could be the funniest and most easy-going person in the room, he too was a serial flirter who didn't stop a sleazy smile bearing all his whites or unwarrented compliment coming out of his plump lips. He had never cheated on her, but it was hard to believe he hadn't. Renaldo knew he was hot, and that made him dangerous.
No wonder your aunt clinged so hard to their sinking ship. You still remember how proud she was when he brought him in first. Call him uncle Ren, she had insisted. After that, he started showing up around more, and then there was a ring on her finger she couldn't stop talking about. They were married for ten years, separated for six and divorced since five. Didn't have any kids, despite how much your aunt wanted them. Never had time, probably wasting it crying about his late homecomings and missed calls, mind busy in heart-breaking thoughts and a frail homelife, bound to be torn apart by his bachelor mindset that had been attractive first; how she'd fallen for the man who lighted up your barbacues and taught you how to ride your bike, even kicking an ex-boyfriend's ass once. He couldn't handle all this, he whispered on that seductive voice of his, and it was so hard to not stare and drool like a fucking dog, face burning up. Maybe it started then, when you were twenty, and you hadn't looked back ever since.
"Ah, mis sobrinos!" you all look up, and you know that deep rich sultry voice all too well. (my nephews!)
Speaking of the devil, he's coming to your table, all smiles like all the women who took Ana's side hadn't stopped dancing to glare at him. He gives a loud shout to the men across the room, and they all salute back, despite his reputation, because some of them still saw him at their bar runs, too funny and charming to pass up on his company. Renaldo is wearing something a bit too casual for the occasion, but hot damn, he looks too good.
"Ya no somos tus sobrinos, Ren" Beni corrects, but Renaldo quickly dismisses the younger man. (we're no longer your nephews)
"Familia siempre es familia" he counters. He hugs everyone of you, and when it's your turn, your body can't help but stiffen at first, then relax on arms that do indeed feel stronger. Ren still smells the same. (family is forever)
"You've been hitting the gym, uncle Ren" you giggle, champagne speaking up for you. "Sorry, just Renaldo"
He smirks while licking his lips, like he's savoring the sound of his name only on your voice. "You were always an observer, weren't you, doll?" he oggles you up and down, while your brother scoffs at your heating cheeks. "You look just about fine yourself too"
Those tight black pants, remembering legs you had seen before in shorts, hairy and strong, but what catches you the most is the big silhoutte between them, still noticeable under the strobbing lights. You gulp, and when you look up to him again, his gaze is dark even when he's smirking. You think he's noticed.
"What are you doing here?" your brother cuts the moment, and you have to roll your eyes.
"Coming to my sobrina's wedding, of course" he responds easily, like his answer is supposed to make sense.
"She isn't your nephew anymore, Ren" Benito stands up, his height clashing with his. "So why don't you leave, old man, huh? You ain't welcome anymore"
He opens his mouth, but Beni cuts him.
"And don't give me that familia bullshit. If you cared, you'd have saved your marriage"
Renaldo's jaw tightens as you three watch the tense exchange.
"Yo amaba a tú tía" he defends himself. "All this family" (i loved your aunt)
"Well" your brother is the next to stand up, "you should've showed it when it mattered"
You wish for times to be simpler: when he'd be in the middle of the dance floor, moving while singing along outloud until everyone would be forced to join him, allured by his larger than life character and playful disposition, accompanied by his attractive features. Renaldo was a force of nature that not even you were spared from: his thunderous presence turned your life upside down from the moment you became a woman and your silly crush roamed into deep uncharted territories, where your heart beat too loud and your gaze lingered on the forbidden, taking every wink and compliment uttered by that grave voice of his, savoring all the interactions you could yet it was never enough.
"You should leave" Marcello backs them up, making Renaldo tsk.
"What about you, doll? Want Ren to leave?" you react, body tense when you realize he's talking to you, your brother and cousins waiting for your answer. "We ain't even danced yet, remember? Like before"
"Time's up" a new figure emerges. Papá Francisco, Ana's father and your great uncle. "You should've thought about that before, amigo" friend, spoken in a mocking tone.
"Alright, pops" he chuckles, but it's humorless, while he raises his arms in mock surrender. "I just wanted to see my beautiful girls all grown up on Natalia's special day"
"Just the girls?" a voice scoffs behind. Awesome, now your great aunt is here. "Leave. You have now seen them"
Why can't anyone just mind their own business?
(You probably weren't being fair, but Jesus, couldn't you enjoy a bit of time with a man you crushed on and hadn't seen in five years?)
"Hola, Imelda. Looking nice" and he takes her hand and kisses it. Oh, how you wish to be her, who removes her palm with a flustered face.
"What's going on?"
Now your sister has come to where a small crowd has formed, a frown on her beautiful face. Her husband trails behind.
"Nada, Nati. Tu vuelve a la pista y disfruta tu boda" Beni dismisses. (nothing, nati. go back to the dancing floor and enjoy your wedding)
"Well, you've made it my bussiness by having this conversation on my wedding, as you say" she sighs tiredly, running a hand through her hair. "Why don't you just leave him alone and we all go back to our thing, yeah?"
"No" Renaldo, who had been quiet, speaks up. "I know where I'm not welcomed" that earns a mocking Do you? from your brother and Beni scoffs. "I'll leave now" then turns around one last time, boots marking their steps with a clicking sound that echoes off the walls, despite the music still playing. "Have a nice life, Nati. Wish you the best"
You watch his back getting farther and farther away, getting lost in the sea of bodies on the dance floor. Your heart plummets and you can't he's gone again from your life, just like that.
"Show's over, gente. Go back to the party" Papá Francisco speaks in a harsh tone, filled with finality.
You try, you do, even going to the dance floor with the men, dancing around with a friend of Nati's husband who asks for your Instagram handle when the song ends, but your mind is elsewhere.
"Excuse me" you tell him with a sweet smile, and he makes you swear you'll give him your username when you're back.
Taking advantage on everyone's bliss, you quietly sneak away from the dance floor, walking towards the gardens.
One thing you'll always admire of your sister, is her attention to detail. She had chosen this particular venue for it's ample gardens, choosing for a reception on the open due to the favoring weather conditions on summer.
The dress clings to your body as the windy breezes by, and you hug your body, cursing your heels that have now started to hurt. You spot the rose bushes your sister had trimmed, looking as beautiful as the first day you saw them on the rehearsal.
"You should've stayed inside"
You jump then relax when you see him, cigarrette dangling from his mouth.
"Here" you take out a lighter from your purse. His face comes closer, hot breath on your face until the click casts a small flame that flickers light over his ageing features. He's aged fine like wine, and by the smirk he gives you before taking a drag, Renaldo's aware of it, maybe about the effect he has on you.
"Thank you, sweetheart" his big hand finds its way to the bush, rustling some leaves. In a harsh tug, he cuts a rose, and you laugh in surprise. "Here"
You smile. "I don't think you're supposed to cut these"
"But it's beautiful, isn't it?" his hands brush yours when you take the gift. "As beautiful as the lady"
A pool of heat forms in your stomach. He's complimented you before, sure, but never has the air felt this charged before, a lurking dangerous anticipation condensed on his smoke trails and your shaky breaths.
"I'm sorry you had to leave"
Renaldo is still close to you. You get a whiff of his cologne, mixed with the cigarette; it's intoxicating. Your eyes dart to the chain, and you wonder how would it look-
"They made me leave" he corrects with a chuckle, a deep rumble coming from his chest.
"Right" you laugh, feeling nervous all of the sudden. "My bad, Ren"
"You didn't want me to leave, did you, doll?" the new wave of petnames makes your legs weak. "Also..." he makes a brief pause, the cigarette now dropped and stomped against the grass. "I like the way that sounds"
Before you realize, his fingers are ghosting over your lip, brushing until some of the matte shade coats his calloused thumb.
His fingers then move to your chin, applying a light pressure to your skin, but enough to bruise.
"Say it again"
"W-what?" you ask, barely a breath.
"Say it, y/n" his face is just inches away from yours. You have to bite your lip to hide out a whine from the sound of your name on his voice. "I know you want to"
"R-Ren" you choke out, fluttering eyelids at the way the pressure doesn't falter.
"Now be a good girl and spell my full name like it's the only thing you know"
The following whimper you can't contain it; the praise gets to you.
"Renaldo"
His brown eyes adquire a dark shade that even in the low moonlight, you notice.
"So pliant, doll. For me?"
You nod dumbly, completely fucked out of your mind, warning sirens barely a buzz in the back of your head. Be it the alcohol, or the lack of control you had when it came to him, its impossible to resist the want to fall.
A beat. "Might reward you for that"
He crashes his mouth into yours, full force, in a heated, hungry and messy kiss. He sucks your lips so hard they for sure will bruise, an action very fitting with his strong and absorbing character. His tongue is wet and sloppy, giving you no space to breathe as you grant him access, wrapping your hands around his midsection, pulling him closer.
Renaldo chuckles, letting you gasp for air. "So needy, aren't you? Always were like this. So demanding; wanna have things your way"
"I see you know me well, don't you?" you bat your eyelashes.
"It's impossible to ignore you, you goddamn tease" your fingers trace through his broad back, tanned skin soft that your nails feel the need to dig. You once eavesdropped on your aunt gushing to your tías about how he loved nails-- long fresh manicured nails; red for the win. "Fucking temptress"
Renaldo groans into your mouth. "Think I wouldn't notice how you looked at me with this hungry eyes, huh?" he bites your lips so hard you taste blood. "Might as well just said it"
He forces his tongue inside of you again, making your body squirm as he presses his weight over you, back pinned to the bushes, the leaves tickling your skin. Ren now swallows a whine of yours, dick throbbing hard at your needy sounds.
He then detaches his mouth from yours, a silver string of saliva connecting you two.
"Still can't fucking say it"
But he insists you're the tease.
You cock an eyebrow. "Never was good with words. How about this?"
Renaldo holds your gaze as you descend, until your knees hit the grass. Your fingers toy with his pants until you pull them down, following with his underwear.
"Oh, doll. Consider me interested" as if his cock wasn't leaking with precum.
Your lips begin to wrap around the tip of his cock, then swallow him whole, eager and so fucking cock starved. Soon, you pick up a rapid pace, your tongue doing God knows what but his jaw is tense from keeping the sounds from coming out, but aren't you testing his limits? Slurping on his damn cock like you've been deprived of it all your life. In a way, you have, and you don't waste time in not sucking the living soul out of him.
Your eyes look up, chest warm and pussy wet at the pleasure etched across his face, and he looks at you, at your drooly mess for sucking his dick.
He tugs your hair harshly, making you gag.
"I wanna see you" he gathers your hair up into a makeshift ponytail to keep it out of your face. "Keep going-"
A grunt escapes his lips, cutting himself off. You clasp your thighs together looking for some pressure to ease yourself a little, your mouth busy still gagging, sank down until you feel his balls. The tip of his cock is buried in your throat, lodged so fucking deliciously in the back. You let it out, and Renaldo groans.
"The fuck you do that for?" comes out his complain, voice strained.
"I needed my mouth to speak" you clean some drool on your face. "Need you to do something for me" he clears his throat as letting you speak. "I want you to fuck my mouth"
"Carajo, muñeca" you place a little kiss on his inner thigh. "You're so fucking dirty, who would've thought?" (fuck, doll)
Your chest rises and falls, lips parted while a string of saliva coats them.
"Alright, wanna see if you're just talk, you cock hungry whore" Ren smirks devilishly. "I'm gonna ruin the fuck out of you"
He gathers you by your hair and shoves you back down, hips bucking with a movement so brash you choke. Your pretty eyes water and your fake eyelashes get wet. Renaldo continues to buck his hips up and force you down, choking and spit sounds making his dick hard as he throws his head back with half-lidded eyes.
His big cock stuffing your throat feels like a dream and he knows you're enjoying it.
A little content smile graces his lips, and he can feel his abdomen tightening. He bucks his hips up faster, forcing your head down deeper, panting as you gag on his cock, and when his grip on your hair falters and his body shakes, you know he's close.
"Little slut" he teases with a hoarse voice, "do you want to eat my cum that badly?"
Your answer comes in the form of sucking him off to drive him to the edge, refusing to pull out.
"Entonces hártatelo, puta" (then gorge on it, slut)
He fills your throat up with his cum, sputtering and swallowing down as much as you can while he holds you in place. You gasp for air when he finally lets you go, a mix of cum and drool running down your chin.
"A fucking expert, doll. Five stars" his finger brushes over your skin. "Look at this mess 'cause you were too fucking hungry. Lick it"
Your chest heaves, but you get close to the fingers, sucking on them. It tastes like him and you, the sensation making both your cunt and chest warm. You don't hold yourself back and look at him all the time, the sucking sound as obscene as the latest.
Suddenly, in the quiet of the night, you can't think of anything else.
But then leaves rustle, yet none of you have moved.
"Y/n?"
Shit, It's Beni. You then recognize Marcello and your brother, trailing behind.
"Looks like we gotta go" he laughs, amused. You can only feel your face burn. "Ah, no te preocupes, muñeca. I know a place. Follow me" (don't worry, doll)
Renaldo has taken you to a fucking bathroom, just meters away from the venue. But the music is loud, and no one notices the two people hurriedly getting inside, like dumb horny teenagers.
"Jesus" he pants, and you click the door. He reaches for your face, carressing your warm skin before ghosting over your lips. "Now, where were we?"
The kiss.
Again, it's rushed, rough and impatient, like he too had been waiting a lifetime to taste you.
Renaldo pushes you against the bathroom's wall, making you moan when his larger frame cages yours. You're drowning of him: his smell, his sweat that starts to pool, the heat radiating off his body, the view you have of his veins and tense muscles, that fuckass chain... It's all now yours.
He gropes your body, testing forbidden waters until now. Then, his hand leaves your ass and reaches for your exposed inner thigh. His greedy fingers wander into the upper cut of your dress without any warning and head for your clit. The older man hisses, feeling your wet patch, rubbing teasingly through the thin material of your laced panties you now feel lucky to have chosen, arousing you even more. You feel them damp and sticky while tilting your head back in pleasure and he takes the chance to paint bruises all over your neck and collarbone.
"Renaldo" you moan his name as his tongue licks the exposed skin of your collarbone, trailing dangerously close to the valley of your tits, pushed up thanks to the dress. He bites down on the crook of your neck, skin inviting.
"Glitter, baby?" he chuckles at how it seems to shimmer. Your friend Sabrina had convinced you to do it, even borrowing you hers; it smelled like vainilla.
"What's this, huh? You youngsters never fail to amaze me" with a sleazy smile that makes your pussy clench, more when he open his mouth to show you his sparkling tongue.
"Oh? We're just getting started" you pant as his fingers slide through the seam of your panties, gracing your entrance. "I'm full of surprises"
"Little minx, I like that sassy mouth of yours" you roll your hip to reach out for his teasing fingers, "we're about to find out"
You repeat the motion, cunt aching for his touch, but end up gracing his pulsating strained bulge with your upper belly in the process. He stops, the black pants looking uncomfortable-- fighting to be freed.
"Fuck, mami. Need'a be inside you" you nod too eagerly, lips parted open. His hand graces your ass. "Now turn around"
You obey without thinking twice, and he pushes your face down on the counter with a harsh demanor.
"You won't move, right?" you hum, despite his hand placing on your neck and the other grabs your waist hashly, fingers digging in the skin to keep you still. You whimper at the light pain, "Good girl"
He pulls down your panties until they fall down to the floor, then hikes your dress up, exposing your ass.
"Nice, mami" he whistles, "I like what I see"
To prove so, he uses his hands to part your legs and spread them open, his other hand undoing his pants for the second time during that night.
"Tell me how much you want this" but he's already pushing the head of his cock into your folds. His tip brushes your soaking clit, and it sends a delicious but painful shiver that coarses through your body.
"Badly" you cry out.
"Tus deseos son órdenes, muñeca" he purrs. "Despite it all, I'm a gentleman" (your wish is my command, doll)
In one swift move, he pushes his length into your slick folds. "So wet, doll. 'S it for me?" you nod and he laughs, "gonna reward you for that"
He pulls his cock out and then slams it all inside, burying himself to the hilt.
You jerk under his hold at the sudden move, feeling all his girth in your walls, trying to take him. A breathy moan falls from your lips.
"Shh, don't move" he leans down to whisper in your ear, "music is loud but it ain't gonna do miracles to cover up those slut sounds out of you"
He doesn't ask for permission, only increasing the pressure of your face against the counter, the cold burning against your cheek, and begins to move inside of you, soon picking up an erratic pace, his pelvic area slamming into your ass. Fuck, your eyes sting from the brutal force of each thrust as he forces into you, movements sloppy, and the obscene sound of skin clapping against skin feeling the now feeling even smaller bathroom, that is starting to get hotter and more humid. You can't really see the mirror, but can imagine it fogging up.
"Tell me how it feels" Renaldo pants, his grip on your waist increasing in pressure. "Wanna hear you say how much you love my cock, little puta" (whore)
"S-so goo-good" you sputter out.
"'S that why you had to suck me off in the garden?" he chuckles darkly. "Couldn't even fucking wait, didn't care to be caught like a fucking whore by tus primos y hermano. No, you wanted Renaldo's cock so fucking badly you got on your knees as soon as he came back into your life" his words should make you feel embarrassed, but you moan at the string of humiliating and lewd words. "Bet you thought about it since forever, heh? You opportunist cocksleeve. That you touched yourself to this even when I was with Ana"
"C-couldn't help it, Ren. Wanted you so so bad" you cry. "Always have"
"Fucking filthy little shit" he whistles, "you're no good girl. You're a real bad girl"
You whine, turning into a moaning mess, blabbering nonsense.
"I-I need to-"
"Go on, tell Renaldo what you need"
"Need to c-cum" you gasp, walls clenching around his cock, your eyes battling to remain open.
He leans down, bitting your earlobe. Then, he kisses it, his smokey scent carresing your hot skin.
"Go on, baby. Wanna see you take all of my seed until it drips from your legs" he grunts, his thrusts sloppy and messy like his kisses. "I need'a see you walkin' back inside so everyone knows what you did, you filthy slut. For everyone to see what's mine"
You see stars, pussy gushing over his dick. His thrusts loose rhythm, and you know he's out for blood.
"W-wait!" you feel the overestimulation as his dick twitches inside you.
"You said you'd behave" he pants, his hold still firm. "So don't be such a fucking bitch and let me cum too, mami. You aren't cruel, are you?"
"N-no"
"Then you'll let me do this" his cock spasms, "and this"
His seed spurts inside of you, thick whiteness dripping down your ass and thigh as your pussy milks it. Some spills on the floor, some drops on your dress and some on his pants, black pants, making him hiss.
"Fuck" he curses, while pulling out. "See that?"
"Oh, I see" you chuckle dryly. "But you forget only one of us is going back to the wedding"
He chuckles, taking in the sight of you: dress ruined, hair damp, run makeup and cum-stained legs. Despite it all, you're still so pretty, and he can't believe a girl he used to call sobrina five years ago has now taken his dick like a fucking champ. Renaldo tugs some loose strands behind your ear, sleazy smiling at you.
"I have a solution" his finger traces your arm, taunting.
You want to stretch your time with him. God knows when you'll see him again.
"Yeah?"
"No awkward questions, no explanations, and more of this" he signals his dick; it's still pulsating, dear Lord. How old was this guy again?
You shouldn't bear any hopes or hop on his truck that probably reeks of ashes and rum. But you never had any sense when it came to Renaldo, and now that you've tasted him, nothing will ever be the same.
Your Love Feels Like A Sunday When You Got Nowhere To Go
Summary: You are Pedro’s date to the SNL 50 celebration as his newly engaged fiancée.
Pairing: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader
Warnings: Established Relationship, TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Suggestive Content, little SMUT, PiV, Dirty Talk, Short but sweet smut, Slight Angst, Swearing, Anxiety, Surrounded by A-Listers, Dancing, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Red Carpet, Cameras, Paparazzi, Long Distance, Timezone Difference, Social Media, Interviews, I’m not a Spanish speaker, I might be wrong with the terms, please don’t come after me T^T,
Word Count: 5.8k
A/N: Hi! Yes, I am still working on It Could Happen To You. School is being a bitch and I’m just in a weird headspace rn lol. Anyway, since this is basically a series now… I’ll make a series masterlist for this soon tehe.
Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!
Song: Your Love by JISOO
PEDRO PASCAL MAIN MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST |
THE BOWERY HOTEL — DAY
You arrived a day before the taping of the SNL 50th anniversary show, the energy of New York buzzing all around you. But inside the hotel suite, it was just you and Pedro, wrapped up in a world of your own.
Sweet, romantic Pedro. The man who hadn’t stopped calling you wife since he slid that engagement ring onto your finger.
You twirled the sparkling diamond under the dim lighting, still not quite believing it was real. It had been just over a month since Pedro had proposed, and somehow, you were still catching yourself staring at it in disbelief.
From across the room, Pedro watched you, his lips curling into a smirk as he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.
“Caught you staring again,” he teased, voice warm with amusement.
You rolled your eyes playfully. “It’s new. Let me have my moment.”
He pushed off the doorway, crossing the room in a few strides before wrapping his arms around your waist. “It’s not new to me,” he murmured against your temple. “I’ve known you were mine for a long time.”
You sighed dramatically, tilting your head back to look at him. “I’m not your wife yet, Pascal.”
Pedro hummed, his nose brushing against your cheek as he whispered, “Hmm… nah. You are.”
You swatted at his chest, but the way his eyes twinkled made your heart melt.
“You’re impossible.”
He grinned. “And yet, you love me.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” you muttered, but the smile on your face betrayed you.
Pedro chuckled at your faux annoyance, his warm breath ghosting against your lips as he leaned in. “You’re so cute when you pretend to be mad at me,” he murmured, tilting your chin up with his fingers before capturing your lips in a deep, slow kiss.
You melted instantly, hands threading into his hair as his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him. The kiss grew hungrier, his lips moving against yours with a languid sort of urgency, like he was savoring every second.
His hands roamed—one resting on the small of your back, the other slipping beneath the hem of your robe, fingertips teasing against your bare skin. A soft hum escaped you as his mouth trailed along your jaw, down the curve of your neck.
And then it hit you.
“Wait—” You gasped, breathless, gently pushing at his chest. “We have lunch with Javiera.”
Pedro groaned dramatically, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. “Mierda.”
You giggled as he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his expression somewhere between frustration and mischief. “Did I forget to mention I invited her to watch you perform?”
“You did,” he huffed, pouting slightly. “And I love that she’s coming. I do. But do we have to be on time?”
You gave him a pointed look.
Pedro sighed, rolling his eyes playfully. “Fine. Fine.” He took a step back, raking a hand through his already tousled hair. “But just so you know, you owe me later.”
You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Owe you?”
“Oh, cariño.” His voice dropped to a sinful murmur as he trailed a slow finger down your arm. “Later tonight, I’m going to have my way with you.”
A shiver ran down your spine, but you smirked, smoothing your robe as if unaffected. “We’ll see about that, Pascal.”
His grin was full of promise. “Oh, we will.”
THE BOWERY HOTEL — AFTERNOON
Lunch with Javiera was set at a quiet corner table in the hotel's restaurant, a space that offered just enough privacy for a family catch-up without feeling too closed off. The scent of fresh bread and herbs lingered in the air as you sipped on a glass of chilled wine, the engagement ring on your finger catching the soft afternoon light.
Javiera beamed as she reached for your hand, examining the ring for what was probably the fifth time since you sat down. “It looks even better in person,” she said, her voice warm with affection. “I still can’t believe you two are finally engaged.”
Pedro, seated beside you, chuckled as he reached for a piece of bread. “Finally? What’s that supposed to mean?”
Javiera gave him a knowing look. “Oh, come on. Everyone saw this coming except you.”
You laughed, nudging Pedro playfully. “See? Told you.”
He huffed dramatically. “Unbelievable. My own sister conspiring against me.”
Javiera grinned, sipping her drink. “I’m just saying, I’ve seen the way you look at her. The way you talk about her when she’s not around. You’ve been a goner for a long time, hermano.”
Pedro didn’t even try to deny it. Instead, he turned to you, a soft smirk playing on his lips. “Guilty as charged.”
You rolled your eyes, but your heart melted at the way he was looking at you. Before you could say anything, the waiter arrived with your meals, setting down plates of fresh seafood and warm pasta.
Javiera leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “So, have you two started thinking about the wedding?”
Pedro answered before you could. “She keeps saying she’s not my wife yet, but I don’t know… feels pretty official to me.”
You groaned. “Pedro.”
Javiera laughed, shaking her head. “He’s never going to let that go.”
Pedro grinned, cutting into his food. “Nope.”
You sighed dramatically, but you couldn’t hide your smile. “We haven’t talked about it too much yet. Everything’s been moving so fast. But we will.”
Javiera nodded in understanding. “Well, no matter what you decide, just know the entire family is already planning in their heads. Mom is probably dreaming up wedding decorations as we speak.”
Pedro groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Dios mío.”
You giggled, squeezing his hand under the table. “At least we know it’ll be a party.”
Javiera smirked. “A very loud one.”
As the lunch carried on, the conversation flowed effortlessly, filled with teasing, reminiscing, and warmth. The afternoon sun streamed in through the windows, casting a golden glow over the table, and you found yourself stealing glances at Pedro every now and then—marveling at the fact that this was your life now.
Engaged. In love. Surrounded by family.
And if Pedro had his way, he’d be calling you his wife a lot sooner than you expected.
THE BOWERY HOTEL — EVENING
After a long, exciting day, you and Pedro decided to call it an early night, opting for the comfort of your hotel room over any glamorous outings. Room service had just arrived, and the two of you sat on the plush bed, plates of warm pasta and glasses of wine spread out between you. The room was dimly lit, the soft golden glow of the bedside lamps casting a cozy warmth over everything.
Pedro swirled his wine glass lazily, leaning back against the headboard with a contented sigh. “This is perfect,” he murmured, glancing at you with the softest eyes. “No loud crowds, no cameras—just us.”
You grinned, taking a bite of your pasta before setting your fork down. “I still can’t believe you’re going to be on SNL again. It feels like just yesterday we were watching your first episode from our couch.”
Pedro chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, and I was nervous as hell back then.”
“You were incredible, though,” you said earnestly, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “And you’ll be even better this time. I’m so proud of you, Pedro. Not just for this, but for everything. For who you are.”
His ears tinged pink, and he let out a bashful laugh, shaking his head. “Stop, you’re gonna make me all emotional.”
“I mean it,” you insisted, scooting closer. “You work so hard, and you never let the pressure change who you are. That’s why people love you. That’s why I love you.”
Pedro set his wine glass aside and turned to face you fully, his expression melting into something unbearably tender. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he murmured, brushing his knuckles along your cheek. “But I thank whatever force in the universe brought you into my life every damn day.”
You smiled, warmth blooming in your chest. “You’re just saying that because I let you steal half my food.”
Pedro smirked, feigning innocence. “Who, me? Never.”
Before you could protest, his fingers darted to your waist, tickling you mercilessly. A shriek escaped your lips as you collapsed onto the bed, writhing in laughter. “Pedro! No—stop! I’m gonna spill the wine!”
He was laughing just as hard, his face split into the most joyful grin as he kept at it. “Not until you take back that accusation!”
Through uncontrollable giggles, you tried to escape, but he was relentless, his hands finding every ticklish spot. “Okay, okay! You’re innocent! You’re a saint!” you gasped between bursts of laughter.
Pedro finally relented, collapsing beside you, both of you breathless from laughing. You turned to face him, your eyes still shining with amusement, but the moment shifted as his gaze softened, darkening with something deeper. His hand brushed over your cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of your jawline.
“You really do mean the world to me,” he murmured, his voice hushed and full of emotion.
Your breath hitched as his lips met yours, slow and deliberate, the laughter between you fading into something softer, needier. His hand slid to the back of your neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, and you melted into him, sighing against his mouth. His body pressed against yours, the warmth of him seeping into your skin as he kissed you like he had all the time in the world.
Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently, and he groaned into your mouth, his hands roaming down your back, pulling you closer until there wasn’t an inch of space between you. The air grew thick, charged with heat and unspoken promises. Pedro’s lips trailed down your jaw to your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse point just enough to make you shiver.
“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and rough.
You exhaled shakily, tilting your head back as his hands explored, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, tracing slow circles over your bare skin. “Then maybe we should do something about it,” you whispered, your own hands sliding under his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin.
Pedro didn’t need to be told twice.
The moment your lips met, any remaining restraint melted away. His hands gripped your hips, fingers pressing into your skin like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. The heat between you was intoxicating, a slow burn that built with every kiss, every teasing graze of his fingertips over your exposed skin.
His mouth was hungry, insatiable, devouring you with a passion that made your breath hitch. He kissed you like he’d been starving for you, like he was trying to drown himself in the taste of you. His tongue swept against yours, deep and slow, coaxing a soft whimper from your lips that only spurred him on.
“Fuck,” he groaned against your mouth, his voice thick with desire. “You have no idea what you do to me, cariño.”
You gasped as he rolled his hips against yours, the hard press of him igniting something primal deep within you. Your fingers fisted in the fabric of his shirt, desperate to feel more—more of him, more of his warmth, more of the intoxicating way he made your body feel like it was on fire.
“Then show me,” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, but Pedro heard it loud and clear.
His answering smirk was sinful. “Oh, I plan to.”
In one swift motion, he flipped you onto your back, settling between your legs. The weight of him pressed you into the mattress in the most delicious way, making you arch into him instinctively. His hands wandered, sliding beneath your shirt, fingertips skimming over your stomach before tracing a slow, teasing path upward.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin just beneath your jaw. “I’ll never get tired of looking at you. Touching you.”
You shivered under his touch as he pushed your shirt up higher, his fingers grazing over your bare skin with a maddening slowness. His lips followed, trailing soft, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, across your collarbone, lower and lower, until he reached the edge of your bra. He paused, glancing up at you with hooded eyes, silently asking for permission even now.
“Pedro,” you whined, your body arching toward him, desperate for more. “Please.”
That single word sent a visible shudder through him, his control hanging by a thread. “Fuck, baby,” he muttered before finally peeling your shirt off, his eyes darkening at the sight of you beneath him.
His lips were everywhere—on your throat, your shoulders, the swell of your breasts. He took his time worshipping you, his hands and mouth exploring every inch of exposed skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. The contrast of his rough stubble against your soft skin made you gasp, sending a delicious ache straight to your core.
“You’re killing me,” you murmured, your nails digging into his back as he teased you, his lips hovering just above where you needed him most.
Pedro chuckled, his breath hot against your skin. “Patience, mi amor.” But the way his voice wavered, the way his own body trembled against yours, told you he was just as desperate.
And then—finally—his mouth was on you, his kisses turning scorching, his hands gripping your thighs as he moved lower.
The next moments were a blur of pleasure, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, his touch unraveling you until you were nothing but gasps and moans beneath him. Every flick of his tongue, every slow grind of his hips against yours sent you spiraling higher and higher, until you shattered beneath him, trembling, breathless, completely undone.
Pedro didn’t stop. Not yet. He guided you through the aftershocks, whispering sweet praises against your flushed skin, his voice raw with love and desire. “That’s my girl,” he murmured. “So fucking perfect for me.”
When you finally opened your eyes, dazed and blissed out, Pedro was hovering above you, his gaze soft but filled with something deeper—something more than just desire.
“I love you,” he whispered, brushing damp hair away from your face. “Always.”
Your heart swelled, your body still humming with pleasure as you reached up to cup his cheek, running your thumb over the stubble there. “I love you too,” you murmured, pulling him down for a slow, languid kiss.
And as he wrapped you up in his arms, bodies tangled beneath the sheets, you knew—there was no place in the world you’d rather be.
THE NEXT DAY…
THE BOWERY HOTEL — AFTERNOON
The hotel room buzzed with energy, a symphony of laughter, light conversation, and the occasional pop of a hairspray bottle. Your glam team moved around you in a carefully choreographed dance, curling strands of hair, blending makeup, and adjusting the final touches of your red-carpet look. The air smelled of floral-scented powders and expensive serums, mixing with the faint, crisp scent of fresh linens from the open balcony door.
It was a beautiful afternoon in New York, golden sunlight pouring through the sheer curtains, casting a warm glow over everything. The excitement in the room was palpable—not just for the event, but for you.
“So,” one of the hairstylists, Bella, said with a teasing grin as she ran a brush through your hair, “how does it feel to be engaged to Hollywood’s most beloved man?”
You let out a soft laugh, glancing at yourself in the mirror as the makeup artist dusted a final touch of highlighter on your cheekbones. “Surreal, honestly. I keep waiting for someone to shake me awake and tell me it’s all a dream.”
Another stylist, Marie, chimed in, hands on her hips as she admired your nearly finished look. “Well, if it is a dream, you’re living in the most romantic one ever. That ring? Stunning. And the way he looks at you? Girl, you won.”
Your heart squeezed at her words, warmth blooming in your chest. You knew exactly what she meant—Pedro had a way of looking at you like you were his entire world, like nothing else mattered when you were in the same room. Even after all this time, it still made you breathless.
As if on cue, the door creaked open, and in walked Pedro, freshly showered, the scent of his cologne—a mix of cedar, citrus, and something undeniably him—filling the room. His tousled curls were still damp, his beard neatly trimmed, and he wore a fitted brown V-neck shirt that clung to him in all the right ways, paired with black dress pants that hugged his hips perfectly. A blazer hung over his arm, though from the easy smirk on his lips, he didn’t seem in any hurry to put it on.
And, of course, he was grinning.
“Talking about me?” he mused, his voice carrying that familiar playful lilt as he sauntered in, hands casually slipping into his pockets.
Your stylists all exchanged knowing looks before Bella smirked. “Oh, always.”
Pedro chuckled, then placed his hands on the back of your chair, leaning down so his face appeared beside yours in the mirror. His deep brown eyes flickered over your reflection, admiration evident in his gaze. “Damn, Hermosa…” His voice dropped lower, more reverent. “I might have to fight off every person at this event just to keep their eyes off you.”
Your stomach flipped at the intensity in his tone.
You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress the giddy smile tugging at your lips. “Smooth.”
“I’m serious,” he murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to your bare shoulder. The heat of his lips against your skin sent a shiver down your spine, your breath catching in your throat.
Marie let out a dreamy sigh. “Ugh. The romance.”
Pedro straightened, clapping his hands together with a playful grin. “Alright, alright. I’ll leave you all to it. Just needed to see my girl before we head out.”
But as he turned to leave, he caught your gaze in the mirror again, his expression softening into something deeper, something unspoken. And then—he winked.
A flutter of warmth spread through your chest, and you realized something.
No matter how many times you saw him, no matter how many times he looked at you like you were the only person in the world—you would never get used to it.
As the final touches were made, you finally stepped into your dress—a breathtaking gown that made you feel like a dream. It was an elegant yet modern off-the-shoulder number, the fabric a deep, rich shade that complemented your skin tone perfectly. The fitted bodice flattered your curves, while the flowing skirt trailed behind you like a soft cascade of silk.
You took a steadying breath, smoothing your hands down the fabric before turning toward the door—where Pedro was waiting.
He was already dressed in his full look, a classic black suit tailored to perfection, the crisp white dress shirt beneath unbuttoned at the collar just enough to drive you a little insane. His salt-and-pepper curls were styled just so, his beard neatly trimmed, and his warm brown eyes—those eyes that always made you feel like the only person in the room—were already locked on you.
And when you stepped into his view, his breath audibly hitched.
"Dios mío…" His voice was barely above a whisper, but you heard it, felt the weight of it settle deep in your chest.
A slow, smitten smile tugged at your lips. “You clean up pretty well yourself, Pascal.”
Pedro exhaled a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over his heart as he took a step closer. “Mi amor, if I wasn’t already planning to marry you, I’d be proposing again right now.”
You let out a breathless laugh, warmth blooming in your chest. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m serious.” His hands found your waist, his fingers brushing lightly over the fabric as he shook his head in disbelief. “I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful in my life. And I mean that. Completely. No exaggeration.”
Your throat tightened, emotions swelling too fast, too much, because—God, how did he do this to you? How did he make you feel so seen, so loved, so entirely his without even trying?
You swallowed hard, blinking up at him. “Pedro, you can’t say things like that.”
He frowned slightly, tilting his head. “Why not?”
“Because…” Your voice wavered, and you let out a soft, almost disbelieving laugh. “Because you’re going to make me cry.”
Pedro’s expression melted into something impossibly tender. “Oh, baby…” He cupped your face instantly, his thumb tracing along your cheek as he studied you, his own eyes glassy now. “Then let’s cry together. Because fuck, I love you so much, I don’t know what to do with it sometimes.”
Your breath hitched, a tear slipping free before you could stop it. Pedro caught it with his thumb, brushing it away before leaning in, pressing the gentlest kiss to your lips—like he was sealing in everything he couldn’t say.
You clutched his lapels, pulling him closer. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”
Pedro huffed out a soft laugh, resting his forehead against yours. “You existed, mi amor. That’s all you ever had to do.”
A choked laugh left your lips as you shook your head. “You’re the most sickeningly romantic man alive.”
“And you love it,” he teased, his nose nudging against yours.
“I love you,” you corrected, voice barely above a whisper.
Pedro pulled back just enough to look at you fully, his expression so full of love, so full of everything that it made your chest ache. He took your hand in his, bringing it to his lips and kissing your engagement ring before intertwining your fingers.
“You ready?” you murmured, voice still thick with emotion.
He squeezed your hand, his gaze never leaving yours. “With you?” He smiled, soft and certain. “Always.”
And with that, you stepped out into the night, hand in hand, heart in heart, ready to take on the world—together.
ROCKEFELLER CENTER, STUDIO 8H — EARLY EVENING
The moment you stepped out of the car, camera flashes erupted like fireworks.
Pedro’s hand was warm in yours as you both made your way down the red carpet, stopping every few feet to pose for photos. Reporters called out his name, some calling yours, and you couldn’t help but feel a wave of nerves crash over you.
Pedro must have sensed it, because he squeezed your hand, leaning down to whisper, “Breathe, baby. I got you.”
And just like that, the tension melted away.
You reached the interview section, and almost immediately, Entertainment Tonight flagged you both down.
“Pedro! Congratulations on SNL’s 50th! And—oh my gosh, congratulations to both of you on the engagement!”
Pedro beamed, pulling you a little closer. “Thank you. Yeah, it’s been a hell of a year.”
The reporter turned to you. “How does it feel to be engaged to the Pedro Pascal?”
You laughed. “Honestly? Like dating a golden retriever with a credit card.”
Pedro clutched his chest dramatically. “Wow. Wow. Betrayed on live television.”
The reporter laughed. “Well, it’s clear you two are head over heels. Pedro, can we expect wedding bells soon?”
Pedro turned to you, his smile softening. “Whenever she’s ready. No rush. I just know she’s it for me.”
Your heart stuttered.
You turned back to the reporter, your own smile matching his. “Yeah. He’s it for me, too.”
And as the night went on, with the lights, the cameras, and the sea of Hollywood’s biggest stars surrounding you both, you knew—Pedro was right. You were already his.
And you wouldn’t have it any other way.
STUDIO 8H – SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE 50TH ANNIVERSARY SPECIAL
You loved watching Pedro perform on stage. It was one of your absolute favorite things. The way he commanded the room with effortless charisma, the way he delivered every line with that perfect balance of humor and sincerity, the way he owned the stage—he was a natural. An absolute force.
And really fucking funny.
Sitting in the audience, you could barely keep it together. The energy in the studio was electric, but nothing compared to the way your heart pounded watching him up there, in his element, making an entire room—hell, millions of people—laugh like it was the easiest thing in the world.
And then it happened.
The skit with Sabrina Carpenter had already been hilarious—Pedro leaning into his role, playing it up with exaggerated expressions and that perfect comedic timing that had everyone in stitches. But when the music kicked in and he suddenly started hip-thrusting into the air, fully committing to the bit with zero hesitation, your jaw unhinged.
“Oh. My. God,” you breathed, your entire body stiffening as your brain tried to process what you were seeing.
Javiera, sitting beside you, didn’t miss a thing.
“Are you—oh my God,” she cackled, smacking your arm. “You’re so done for.”
You barely registered her words because your entire world had narrowed down to him—Pedro, on stage, grinding the air like it was his job, all while belting out the ridiculous lyrics to the skit’s song.
Your face was on fire.
“Shut up,” you hissed, pressing your hands to your face in a weak attempt to cover how absolutely hot and bothered you were.
Javiera just laughed louder, fully reveling in your suffering. “No, no, no—don’t go all shy now! Own it, babe. That’s your fiancé up there.” She leaned in closer, lowering her voice just enough so only you could hear. “And let’s be real… if he’s that good at hip-thrusting in public—”
“Javiera!” you choked, shoving her while she doubled over in laughter.
You turned back to the stage just in time to catch Pedro glance toward the audience, his eyes scanning the crowd before they found you. And oh, the moment he locked onto your completely flustered, scandalized expression, his lips twitched into the smuggest smirk you’d ever seen in your life.
That bastard knew exactly what he was doing.
He winked.
You swore your soul left your body.
Javiera grabbed your arm, wheezing with laughter. “Oh, you’re in trouble tonight.”
And yeah. She was absolutely right.
You were in so much trouble.
But before you could even fully recover from the absolute chaos of Pedro’s hip-thrusting performance, the next skit rolled in—and it wrecked you all over again.
Pedro walked onto the stage, transformed.
His usual effortless charm was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a full-blown, committed hillbilly persona. He wore the most ridiculous wig, long and messy, nearly covering his eyes, and a graphic shirt that looked like it had seen better days. The second he opened his mouth, putting on that exaggerated twang and delivering his lines with painstakingly perfect comedic timing, you lost it.
Javiera was right there with you, grabbing your arm as she wheezed through her laughter. “Oh my God—look at him! I can’t—”
You could barely breathe. “Stop, I’m actually about to die.”
Onstage, Woody Harrelson and Kate McKinnon were trying—and failing—to keep straight faces as Pedro went all in on the character, telling some completely unhinged story about how the aliens had abducted him and taken a very inappropriate interest in his “hillbilly butt.”
And then came the moment—
Meryl Streep, Meryl fucking Streep, turned to Pedro, trying to deliver her line with composure, but Pedro—your Pedro—gave her this completely deadpan look, blinking beneath that ridiculous wig before delivering a line so absurdly timed, in that perfect hillbilly drawl, that Meryl Streep—the queen of acting herself—broke.
Her head dipped forward as she cracked up, covering her face, shaking her shoulders, and the entire audience erupted.
You lost your mind.
“Oh my God he just made Meryl Streep break character,” you gasped, gripping Javiera’s arm as you struggled to stay upright in your seat. “That’s it. That’s the peak. That’s the moment.”
Javiera shrieked through her laughter. “Your fiancé just made one of the greatest actors alive break on live TV. Babe, you won.”
Tears streamed down your face as you tried to pull yourself together, but Pedro kept going, doubling down on his character’s antics, sending the entire studio into absolute hysterics. The audience was howling, and you? You were on the verge of falling out of your damn seat.
To say you were proud of Pedro was the understatement of the century.
He was killing it.
And when the skit finally ended, the camera catching Pedro barely holding it together as Woody clapped him on the back and Meryl wiped away her tears of laughter, you saw it—that look he gave, that quick flicker of his eyes searching the audience, finding you.
And when he did?
He grinned.
That big, beautiful, unbelievably smug grin.
And you knew.
You were so in trouble tonight.
STUDIO 8H – LATER THAT NIGHT
After his skit, he’d barely disappeared backstage before returning to you, his face still slightly flushed from all the laughter and adrenaline. And just when you thought he couldn’t get any more irresistible, there he was—dressed in a plain white henley, the soft fabric stretching just right across his chest, his sleeves pushed up enough to show off those strong forearms.
And those glasses.
The square-framed ones that made him look ridiculously handsome, the ones that had your brain short-circuiting every time he wore them.
Oh, you were so done for.
Pedro slid back into his seat between you and Javiera, flashing you a small, knowing smile. His hand automatically found your thigh, squeezing lightly—just a touch, nothing inappropriate, but enough to send heat flooding through your body. You swore the bastard knew exactly what he was doing.
So you did what you knew would drive him crazy.
You turned to him, grabbed his face, and kissed him dizzy.
Pedro inhaled sharply through his nose, but he barely hesitated, responding immediately—his hand sliding up to your waist, fingers pressing in just enough to claim you, as if he wanted to pull you into his lap right then and there. His lips were warm, soft, and eager as they moved against yours, deepening the kiss just slightly. His thumb brushed over your ribs, and you felt the way his breath hitched, like he was fighting the urge to take things further.
Your fingers curled in the fabric of his henley as he kissed you like he needed you—slow, lingering, with an almost teasing edge.
Javiera groaned beside you. “Alright, you two, I am still here.”
You pulled away with a breathless laugh, Pedro’s lips still chasing yours even as you separated. His forehead rested against yours for a lingering second, and when he finally pulled back, he gave you that devastatingly soft look—the one that made your heart flip inside your chest.
“You keep kissing me like that, mi amor,” he murmured, his voice low and full of promise, “and I’m not gonna make it to the after-party.”
You smirked, letting your fingers trace along his jawline. “Who said we’re going to the after-party?”
Pedro’s eyes darkened ever so slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was holding back a smirk. He gave your thigh another squeeze, this time lingering a little longer.
But before he could say anything—
Paul fucking McCartney took the stage.
The first notes of Golden Slumbers filled the room, the familiar melody wrapping around you like something magic.
Pedro’s entire body shifted as if on instinct. His fingers laced through yours, squeezing tight, before pulling you up with him.
“You’re dancing with me,” he murmured, voice low and full of emotion, his breath brushing against your ear as he wrapped an arm around your waist.
“You act like I’d ever say no.”
Pedro chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as he held you close. His other hand settled at the small of your back, guiding you effortlessly as he swayed you in slow, easy circles.
His touch was everywhere—warm, solid, grounding. You let yourself melt against him, your cheek resting against his chest as the music carried you both away.
“Once there was a way… to get back homeward…”
Pedro hummed softly against your temple, his voice low, affectionate. You felt the way his arms tightened around you, the way his fingers traced lazy circles against your spine.
“You have no idea how much I love you,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion.
Your throat tightened. “I think I do.”
His lips brushed your forehead. “You’re everything to me.”
You closed your eyes, letting the moment sink in, letting his words settle in your heart like something precious.
As Carry That Weight began, the crowd’s energy shifted—cheers, laughter, voices singing along. Pedro lifted your hand, spinning you gently before pulling you right back into his arms.
You laughed, breathless, the warmth in his eyes making you weak. “You’re gonna make me cry.”
Pedro’s hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones with so much tenderness. “I love you,” he whispered. “More than I know how to say.”
And that was it.
You surged forward, pressing your lips to his, letting the kiss speak for you. It was soft, full of love and something deeper—something that felt like forever. Pedro kissed you back just as sweetly, his fingers threading into your hair, holding you close as if he never wanted to let go.
As The End played, the final notes echoing through the studio, you held onto Pedro like he was your whole world.
Sanctuary update — new works and authors added ⋆｡°✩
I am heartbroken.
I also added Joel Miller tab to database for those who need it
random fics of the day ⋆｡˚
upd: meet the Keeper .˚⭒
beware of 18+
by @2ftall — joel miller is so the type of older!bf to push you up against a tree — Joel Miller
by @604to647 — Without Chains — Pero Tovar
by @ak-vintage — From the Ground Up — Joel Miller
by @alwayslurkinginthebackground — Linen — Marcus Acacius
by @aurorawritestoescape — STOLEN LUNCH — Dave York
by @bergamote-catsandbooks — "Just another one, baby" — Dieter Bravo; Watching the rain fall , A Smutty Retreat — Frankie 'Catfish' Morales
by @berryispunk — Poetry in a Room Full of Noise , Serendipity , Slow Motion , What It Feels Like , All In — Frankie 'Catfish' Morales; By The Fire — Pero Tovar
by @burntheedges — it's alright, darlin' — Joel Miller
by @couldsewyouastitch — little things — Javier Peña
by @darknight3904 — Glasses and All — Joel Miller
by @foxtrology — sweet sweet baby (since you've been gone) — Harry Castillo
by @garden0fyves — joel cumming in his jeans — Joel Miller
by @gothcsz — 𝗦𝗔𝗙𝗘𝗧𝗬 𝗡𝗘𝗧 — Marcus Acacius
by @greenwitchfromthewoods — back pain. — Joel Miller
by @guiltyasdave — home — Joel Miller
by @honeyedmiller — Long Overdue — Joel Miller
by @inept-the-magnificent — A Friend of a Friend of a Friend — Frankie 'Catfish' Morales
by @jobean12-blog — Crazy For You — Clint
by @joelspeach — a wildflower in bloom — Joel Miller
by @lamentationsofalonelypotato — Sugar, Spice, And Starlight — Din Djarin
by @luvpedropascal — weekday nights — Frankie 'Catfish' Morales
by @majestyeverlasting — more than okay — Joel Miller
by @maroonpascal — Our secret moments in a crowded room — Harry Castillo; But I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain , And now I see daylight I only see daylight — Frankie 'Catfish' Morales
by @milla-frenchy — She's a rainbow — Joel Miller
by @millers-angel — flashing joel — Joel Miller
by @nobedofroses — April 8th — Marcus Moreno
by @notjustjavierpena — Heat Of The Moment — Javier Peña
by @ohforficsakelibrary — Woodsmoke — Frankie 'Catfish' Morales
by @pandapetals — The Glasses Stay On — Joel Miller
by @pearlessance — Beneath the Armor — Joel Miller
by @polaroidpascal — i saw frankie kissing santa claus — Frankie 'Catfish' Morales, Joel Miller, miscellaneous Pedro characters
by @preciosapascal — Sleepless Nights , Lazy mornings — Joel Miller
by @qveerthe0ry — Your Ride, Best Trip — Marcus Pike
by @romanarose — Strange Arrivals — Kermit
by @sin-djarin — brief intervention — Marcus Moreno
by @slowdrawl — Whiskey and Want — Joel Miller
by @sp00kymulderr — perfect strangers — Javier Peña
by @stitch-away — "but i meant to" — Javier Peña
by @sunshinehaze1 — Touch and Go — Din Djarin, Frankie 'Catfish' Morales, miscellaneous Pedro characters
by @talaok — After all — Joel Miller
by @tateypots — Sunrise — Joel Miller
by @thelightsandtheroses — I Couldn't Sleep Anyway — Frankie 'Catfish' Morales
by @toomanystoriessolittletime — “Don’t stop now!” — Harry Castillo
by @wethairjoel — the great pretender — Marcus Pike
