What Would The Pedro Boys Three Fun Facts Be When They Stepped Off The Bus On MTVs Next?

What would the Pedro boys’ three fun facts be when they stepped off the bus on MTV’s “Next”?

Joel dream? 👀

( Tbh, anon, I figured it would be easier to just turn it into a short fic... Also the gif is 100% relevant because I have a feeling the dream came from both this and the very nsfw vid going around that is reminding a few of us of a certain internet daddy. Anyway...)

CW: age gap, unprotected sex, language, etc.

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He's staring at you, gaze piercing you from across the room. You suppose it's somewhat your fault; the skirt you're wearing is far too short to be practical, but it's the middle of summer and there's no air conditioning. Your shirt - or what passes for a shirt - clings to you, giving him a nice view of your midriff. If you planned on leaving the apartment, it wouldn’t be practical at all. But it’s not designed to be.

"If you're trying to get my attention, there's probably easier ways." Joel always sounds pissed off, it's just his tone, but in this case, he sounds more amused than anything.

You're not going to lie; you definitely chose the skirt with him in mind. Or rather, his reaction in mind.

"I don't know what you mean." You're lying through your teeth, and he knows it, a half smirk forming on his lips at your denial.

"No?" He's sitting on the couch, wearing that denim shirt that clings to him, dark jeans, legs spread in a way that should, frankly, be obscene.

"Nope." You pop the 'p' sound, watching the way his eyes darken before he taps his thigh.

"Come sit." The way he says it makes it clear it’s not a request, not really. More of a demand. And here’s the thing; you’re so damn weak for this man that you’ll do exactly as he asks, without question.

You cross to him, obedient even in spite of your backtalk. He doesn’t say a word as he pulls you onto his lap, forces you to straddle his thigh. It doesn’t count as force if you do it willingly, but still.

Big, rough hands hold you in place, but his touch is gentle.

“Gonna lie to me again?” He’s holding you, but not keeping you still, instead making you rock back and forth on the rough fabric of his jeans. Bastard. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

You can’t even argue, not really, because the friction you’re getting just from rubbing yourself against him is delicious. So you shake your head. Another mistake; his hands tighten on your waist, stopping your movements. You whimper pathetically, because frankly you were starting to enjoy yourself, soaking your panties and leaving a damp patch on his jeans.

“Words.”

You’ve brought this on yourself, but it’s entirely his fault. He’s too demanding, too dominant, even without meaning to be.

“No, I’m not going to lie to you again.” You pout as you say it, but he rewards you by relaxing his grip, letting you resume your rubbing against him.

“Good girl.” One hand leaves your waist, slides down your thigh, up under your skirt to slip into your panties. They’re thin and lacy and entirely soaked, just from sitting like this, and he knows it.

He teases his fingers around you, his entire palm covering your sex, thumb and index finger teasing at your clit until you whimper, biting your lip to try and keep silent. Fixing you with that dark gaze, he slides his middle finger inside you, then his ring finger, curling them.

You can see how hard he is, slide your hand down his chest to stroke the bulge in his jeans, go to pop the button, but he catches your wrist with his free hand, not stopping his stroking of your soaked cunt.

“You’re not getting what you want. Not until you admit you want it.”

Fucker. You hate how he’s always so damn controlled, even with his gaze blown wide with lust, with his cock aching. You also know you’re going to give him exactly what he wants to hear, half because it’s true, and half because those thick fingers buried to the knuckle inside you are driving you fucking insane.

“You already know I do.” You admit it, a little put out by being made to verbalise what he should already know. Why else would you wear such a scandalously short outfit?

He doesn’t stop rubbing at your clit, palm open as he keeps working his fingers inside you, uncaring that you’re soaking him, dripping down his fingers and onto his jeans.

“Now try that again. Nicely this time. Use your words.” Honestly you’re taking all of the patience he has, but he’s not giving in that easily. He can’t help but be this way with you. You’re such a goddamn brat.

“Fine. I wanted your attention.” You wriggle on his fingers, lips parted in a soft moan. “Wanted to see how long it would take you to want me.”

Joel sighs, amused. “About two seconds after you walked in.”

He slides his fingers out of you, cups your soaked pussy in his palm for a moment before he lets you unzip his jeans, wrap your hand around his thick, hard cock and free him.

“C’mon then, baby. Come take what you want.”

He helps lift you, lower you down onto his considerable size. You exhale softly as you slide down his length, rocking your hips until you’re fully seated on him.

“This is what you wanted, huh?” One hand settles on your waist, holding you steady. The other slides up your shirt, gently squeezing your breast, teasing your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Mmhmm.” You can’t actually answer him, already overstimulated from his fingers, his touch, the feeling of being so full of him.

He lets you take charge, lifting yourself up and dropping back down onto him, riding him while he bucks up against you almost lazily, one rough hand playing with your tits until he slides his hand round to your back, drags you into a deep, hungry kiss, muffling the sounds you make as you fall apart, cunt fluttering and tightening around him.

He holds you then, holds you in place as he bucks up into you, hard and fast, kisses muffling your screams as he pulls you down onto him, holding you so still you can’t move as he grinds into you, filling you with hot, thick ropes of his spend.

He holds you close, still grinding into you, keeping you right where you are, lets you catch your breath before he shakes his head, touches the fabric of your too-short skirt.

“Don’t let me catch you wearing this outside. Only I get to look at you like this.”

You manage a soft giggle, press a kiss to his mouth.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

It hurts me everyday knowing I'm never gonna be loved as much as I love.

say it with your hands | joel miller x f!reader

part two

pairing: joel miller x afab!fem!masseuse!reader 

word count: ~5.6k (how did this happen)

rating: 18+ minors dni

summary: post tlou/we are in jackson. ellie convinces joel to see the town masseuse. it goes mostly okay.

warnings etc: smut, awkward!joel, joel being kinda mean to himself, age gap implied, involuntary boners, lots of sexual tension, oral (m receiving), sunshine!reader, pet names (sweetheart, sugar, sweet girl, darlin’), little bit of POV hopping dw about it, probably bad massage technique descriptions idk what i’m doing sorry. NO USE OF Y/N.

A/N: the first of the two soft and sweet joel fics! we are fixing our man’s back whether he wants it or not. god this was sooo cathartic to write actually as someone who wants nothing more than to give this man some goddamn peace. and also as someone who wants to bite his tummy. 

special shoutouts to vee, ziggy, nicole, sam and @pedgito who gave me some much needed advice with this.

inspired by this ask <3 

Joel Miller does not need a massage. 

Sure, his lower back aches most hours of the day and the tension in his shoulders makes it hard to raise his arms above his waistline and fine, being on his feet for too long sends shooting pains up his spine and into his neck. And yeah, okay, maybe right now he’s hunched over the kitchen table after reaching down to tie his boot lace, frozen where he stands with a palm pressed to his back, groaning out a symphony of agonized grunts.

But he does not need a massage.

Keep reading

I could be wrong, but I'm sure this wasn't in the script...🤭

This is Pedro not Silva :D 😍🥰

That kiss! My heart melts... 🥺🥺🥺

I volunteer as tribute🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣