#( if you're not okay with my tagging you to stuff like that tell me! )

[leashybebes]

fuck it friday

tagged by @bidisasterevankinard (😘)

full disclosure, i have no idea what this is, or if it'll become anything, but i wrote it on my lunch break, so let's call this a vague maybe wip, i guess. add it to the ever growing list of hiatus tasks

They've been doing this - being friends, getting dinner a couple times a week, talking, texting a carefully normal amount - for a couple months when Buck takes a deep breath and says,

"Hey. I'm sorry."

Tommy looks at him over the takeout containers, looking honestly, simply, confused.

"You're - why?"

"I don't…I feel like I maybe didn't appreciate you the way you deserve when we were dating. Like I didn't see you, you know?"

"You didn't," Tommy agrees and it stings more than Buck was expecting. "But that's not all on you. I didn't let you."

"Why is that? Was I - " Don't make it all about yourself, Buck tells himself, but he can't help finishing the thought. "Did you just…know I wouldn't be enough?"

"What? Evan. No. God, no. It's - it's me. I disappear into relationships. Lose myself in them. If anything I'm just grateful it was someone like you this time."

"What does that mean?"

"You're a good guy. People use this word as an insult, or to mean boring, but I don't mean it that way, okay? You're really nice."

"I - put a pin in that," Buck says, thinking about a specific time he was not nice to Tommy. "What does you disappear into relationships mean?"

"Oh. Um." Tommy does his little awkward fist tap. "I mean I just…want to be whatever they want me to be. I lose sight of what I want. What I need, I guess."

God, Buck wishes they could have had these conversations when they were together.

"Why?"

Tommy shrugs. "Spend your whole life wanting to disappear and eventually it sticks, I guess."

i feel like i have no idea who's working on stuff, who's taking a hiatus break, etc etc so call it an open tag and show me what you got, gang

[angelic-oaths-pond]

divider by @/saradika-graphics

are you lonely? missing source? missing a friend? welcome to angelic oath's pond! here you can request a friend, and my fragments will latch onto the identity, and bam! new friend for you.

how do you do it, you're asking? well, of course there has to be some sort of requesting info.

brainmades > fictives > octives > songtives > whatever else idk (in order of easiest for us to form and latch onto)

source list (these ones will be easier for my frags to latch onto as we have pre-existing knowledge of them): creepypasta, harry potter, percy jackson, the hunger games, dream smp, yellowjackets, arcane, yandere simulator, outer banks, grishaverse, etc. (look, i know i was a weird kid, okay?)

questionaire time!

well, is there a template or something? not really, but here's some info you should include! name, source, personality, and whatever else you want! i'll make them a side blog for you :3,, please lmk if you want any specific details about them!!!!

what don't you do? glad you asked! i won't do hazbin/helluva, i won't do IRL figures, i won't do romantic or sexual relationships, transIDs, paraphilias. i may also deny requests that aren't on here if i'm uncomfortable with them.

that's cool.. but does blacklisting transIDs/paraphilias mean you don't like them? not true at all! i don't mind harmless transIDs, and i am an advocate for paraphilias, but i am just uncomfortable with those on my collective. they can interact, of course, but you will be denied if you want something like transharmed/transharmful ^^

how often will they be online? well, our timezone is UTC +11, if that matters! usually we'll be online throughout the day unless something has come up. daily conversations are something we can do if needed!

what if i don't like how they turned out? please don't tell them that :[ you can't get a "refund", they formed how they formed, and they can't change that! if you dislike how they turned out,, just leave an ask in my inbox telling me you won't be able to talk to them any longer :( ditching them without notice makes them really upset, especially since they formed essentially for you.

did you get inspiration from anyone? yes! all creds to @liminalbah @craft-a-fragment @build-a-brain-buddy for inspiring me

how many requests can i send in at a time? one please!!!

what's the estimated waiting time? a few days usually works, and it gives them time to latch on and delve into their identity a bit more

okay, that's nice to know. is there any other info i should know? not really! my only request is that you go as in-detail as possible when requesting so they can form the best way possible ^^ if not, usually they might end up different than you planned!

oh wait, one last question. do you only do fictives? nope!! you can request a brainmade (we're best at these), songtive, fictive, octive, etc. just go in-detail :3

how do i contact you if i have more questions? well, you can send an ask into this blog, or do it on my main, @angelic-oath.

do you have any other socials? well, there's discord, but i only really feel comfortable doing this sort of stuff on tumblr, unless we're close friends!

requests are... OPEN!

disclaimers:

it may take time to form them. they might not front often or right away. they may not turn out exactly as wanted. they have feelings too; they are not your play dolls.

tags:

#a tadpole hatches! ; your request has been accepted #a frog hops out of the pond! ; your request has been fulfilled #a frog swims down to the bottom of the pond! ; your request has been denied #a frog eats a fly! ; general talking/questions

anons:

n/a

[tagarilaghost]

Any thoughts to Dusknoir getting "advice" from Darkrai in the future (while hunting Grovyle & Hero)?

[fennthetalkingdog]

I'm just figuring out how important music is in my life! This is coming from a long while trying to cut down on my music use, mostly because I was listening to it so much that it felt more like I couldn't do anything without popping in some earbuds, and partially because of other personal reasons. Some of my routines changed, forcing me to not listen to music while doing certain things, and it ended up becoming that besides working on homework or drawing, I didn't listen to music at all. But I've given myself a break today since I have nothing to do and since, for reasons, I'm feeling just a lil crappy today—and boy, I'm starting to realize again just why I love music!!

I love the diverse music taste I've developed over the years! My family is not only big about music but big about listening to it loud, so the majority of my music taste for most of my life has just been Christian hiphop (Lecrae, KB, Andy Mineo, Trip Lee, and ironically Tonex, whose album where he was struggling hard with his gayness has been my favorite concert movie since I was 5) and gospel music (Kirk Franklin, Tye Tribbett, etc.). And music was one of the few connections between me and my race (I grew up feeling pretty estranged from my blackness as a kid, but the popular songs they played at the YMCA in the 2010s were some of the few things I could use to feel more connected) and between me and my classmates/friends at the Y (I still have fond memories of playing FNAF songs in mat forts and reciting lyrics at pool parties). But I got tired of knowing I could never bond with anyone besides family friends music taste-wise when I was in high school, and so I started listening to secular music on my own time. And that's how I first found Ghost and Pals, a vocaloid artist and one of the first secular music folks I listened to as a kid (can you smell the religious trauma yet? Lol), and that's how I bonded with one of my best friends in early college (ironically, also my first time being publically queer). Now I listen to Kpop, anime songs, songs from warriors MAPs, songs from musicals (Hamilton and In the Heights <3), latin songs, metal songs, and even some secular songs young me would've been too scared to listen to.

And music has always been one of my biggest sources of stimming! I can't dance to save my life, but music will sure get me to flick my fingers and hit my fist against my shoulder furiously. Music was one of the first clues that I like stimming with vibration too (since I love laying against the car door and turning up the music loud enough to feel the world shake around me). And music was one of the first things that made me look into ADHD or autism (specifically, listening to Ghost and Pals songs for a month straight and getting my friend at early college [who also has ADHD] to start looking at me funny when I was discovered doing chores and listening to one of three songs for the fifth time). Music is so cool it'll get me to wax poetically. It was one of the things that kept me together during my roughest times and soothed me during my best. I listen to it while I write, while I cry, while I hang out with my friends and family and while I chill by myself. It's how I relax after a long day, and it's how I feel safe. I feel kinda emotional finally having music hit that spot in me without feeling like I need it to do stuff.

[bueris]

okay maybe I should seriously reconsider my path in life and sell my soul to marketing or journalism instead

[keeps-ache]

gonna keep it shmoovin man

[jackabbot]

goddamnit. this post was about if a ship would "make sense" in canon context, but now i gotta point out that there is no way a ship can be illegal. because again, fictional people aren't real.

incest and underage and whathaveyou might make you feel uncomfortable, but as long as it's fiction and no real people are being put into a situation of harm, it's not illegal jfc. grow up.

i've been in fandom spaces for about 18 years or so at this point and i never thought we'd hit a point where this has to be said

[gone-naitfall]

thread with lausticzt || mentioned: erwin smith ( @gyofukuki )

Rain had once again accompanied him in another tragedy— at Erwin’s funeral. Levi had returned to Shinganshina a few days ago, to collect his body, in whatever stage of decomposition that was. Levi preferred to put an end to these matters, bury them, and never look back, except this man was different, his hold on him still tight, even more after he was gone. Some had protested— why should he receive special treatment when hundreds of soldiers had died in the same battle? When so many lives were sacrificed because of him. Many in the Survey Corps who had given their lives never received proper burial. But Levi wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t comply with reason, for he only cared to bring him back home. Maybe, he’d stop seeing him everywhere if his body was properly cared for.

The casket had remained closed, for the look of him was unsightly, skeletonized as he was, his form no longer resembling the soul that once resided inside this body, just an empty rotting vessel. Yet Levi wouldn’t have minded looking at him, for he had seen the same sight before. His mother, when he buried her, must have looked almost the same. In the same nightmares he’d live, over and over again, with no escape, no chance to wake up.

Almost everyone left once the funeral was over. Wouldn’t stay for long, wouldn’t mourn for a man nobody was going to miss. Yet, standing in the rain, Levi had stayed for many hours, until he lost track of time. Fucking bastard. Being more trouble dead than he was alive. And he couldn’t even blame him anymore, for none of it was his fault. Not really. Not since Levi got on his knees, and decided to make the choice— to send him, and everyone in the Survey Corps to die. To carry on his will, and all the weight of his SINS, so he could die in peace, dreaming of his childhood and not the mountain of corpses he’d stand upon. The weight of all his sins had now fallen on his shoulders— and now his head would hang low, in his efforts to remain standing and not be crushed by the weight of it all.

— Where's the Captain? — He hasn't returned from the Commander's funeral. — Is he still outside in this weather? 

It didn’t just rain, it fucking poured. It had become dangerous to stay outside, the rain was falling too heavily and with too much force. Levi didn’t have an umbrella with him. Like a statue, he’d stand. He didn’t know himself what he had been waiting for. Certainly not for a response. Maybe, he had been waiting for the ground to cover him to dry. But the rain wouldn’t stop. The harder the rain fell, the more every nerve in his body burnt with rage— as if he were ten years younger, with still enough life left inside of him, fury as his driving force, still mad at the cruel world they were forced to survive in, awaiting, demanding for some kind of merciful treatment. But he knew damn well there wasn’t any mercy, and the rain wouldn’t stop just because he wished it would.

[naenaex0xx]

good night, take care<3

[ourceliumnetwork]

taking a break from cleaning because i need to 1) pace myself and 2) spread this out over 2 days so that it doesn't get a chance to get too dirty again before i gotta do final tidying and pickup before the chaos ensues, but i've gotten a surprising amount done for like 20 minutes of clean and 10 minutes of Silly Shit.

[charmedimsure]

WE'RE OKAY || kang dae-ho

pairing: Kang Dae-ho x f!reader summary: Things go wrong during the third game word count: 2.1k warnings: mingle game, character death, blood, squid game stuff A/N: this man is the only thing in my head rn. posted this before when tags weren't updating so reposting now. also this is only sorta proofread so if you see any mistakes no you didn't <3 **this is sorta a p2 to "a welcome distraction" but can be read as standalone**

We will go hand in hand

And have fun jumping around

Round and round

The platform stops turning suddenly, and you grab onto Dae-ho to stop yourself from falling over.

"Eleven"

You and Dae-ho lock eyes for a split second before you both start looking around for more players. Together you were six, meaning you needed four more.

Gi-hun turns to a player behind him. "How many are you?"

"Four," the woman replies.

"That makes us ten!" Jung-bae whimpers.

A man from another group comes running over. "Are you five? We need five!"

Before any of you can answer, another player yells back. "We have five people! Come with us!"

The two groups go running off towards a door.

"We have to hurry!" Gi-hun says.

"There's no time, Gi-hun!" Young-il tells him.

"We need one more!" the tall woman yells. She spots someone by herself near the center of the platform and grabs her. "We have eleven now!"

"To the green door over there! Hurry!" Young-il yells, already running off in the direction of the door.

Before you know what's happening, Dae-ho grabs you and pulls you along after him. You rush after him into the room, pushing yourself against the wall to make room for everyone else to get inside. You look up at the man next to you before turning your head towards the beeping sound coming from the back of the room. The clock runs out, and the lock clicks on the door.

You breathe out a sigh of relief that you made it in time, but jump and yelp when you hear the screams coming from outside the door, along with the gunshots. Looking towards the door, you watch Gi-hun's reactions as he watches the people outside. The sounds of gunshots are soon replaced with the sounds of the forklifts coming in with the coffins.

Your heart begins to race. If Dae-ho had not taken you back to his friends and added you to his team, you surely would be one of those bodies out there. You look up at Dae-ho to see him already looking down at you. He saved your life.

Dae-ho looks you over to make sure you're okay before you both look around at the others in the room with you. You smile a bit when you see the nice lady and her son with you, as well as players 120 and 095. You had watched them during the six-legged race and watching them cross the finish line had filled you with hope that you could do it too.

"You're alive thanks to me!" a voice yells from inside your room, making you and everyone else jump. You turn and see the creepy lady standing in the middle of the green room, looking you all over one by one. She speaks to Gi-hun, making everyone look at each other with a mix of fear and confusion. This lady doesn't seem to understand that it is not the time for this.

The eliminated players are announced and you are let out of the rooms. The floors are already covered in blood. Red is splattered all over the walls as a morbid reminder of what will happen to you if you lose.

Everyone steps onto the platform and it starts moving again as the music starts up. Looking around, you see that weird purple-haired guy and his friend dancing together. You don't know whether to smile that people can find happiness even in a moment like this, or to be horrified that they can dance in the blood of all those people.

The platform stops again and you are shot back into the game.

"Four"

Your team looks around at each other. Just as you're about to volunteer to find others, Young-il and Jung-bae separate, shouting about needing two more people.

The rest of you run towards an open room with a purple door, taking deep breaths. Gi-hun keeps the door open and looks outside to make sure that the others found another room in time. Right before time runs out, Dae-ho pulls Gi-hun into the room and closes the door, hearing the lock turn immediately after.

The room is tense with none of you knowing whether your friends made it in time. You look at Dae-ho, seeing the worry on his face, and gently take his hand. He looks towards you and squeezes your hand, not letting go even when the doors unlock and you are let out.

Dae-ho starts yelling for Young-il and Jung-bae before a voice calling Gi-hun's name grabs your attention. You look over with relief to see that both of them are alive.

Young-il turns to Jun-hee, asking her if she is alright.

"Wait a minute," Young-il says, "if the next number is seven, we won't need anyone else, will we?"

You all smile as you understand what he's saying, and Jun-hee holds her swelling stomach, a warm smile on her face.

The number for the next round is three, making it easy for your team to split up into two groups and get into rooms with time to spare. You nearly cry as the mother and son are reunited after the round ends, and Dae-ho pulls you towards him, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and rubbing his hand up and down your arm.

Your team grows after that, quietly adding the old lady and her son and players 120 and 095.

The platform starts to spin again as the next round starts.

"I hate this fucking song," you mumble under your breath.

The platform stops as the voice announces the next group size.

"Seven"

"Two men and five women! Go!" Gi-hun yells to the team.

"Which two men?" Jung-bae asks.

"I'm going with my mom!" Yong-sik says, holding onto his mother tightly.

Dae-ho holds up your joined hands. "I'm coming." You're dragged in the direction of the group as you run along. Dae-ho opens an orange door, but stops seeing that it's full.

The old man from before pushes Dae-ho out of the doorway before shutting the door. You keep Dae-ho from falling and instead pull him in the direction of an open room that player 120 found. As you run, you can hear the voice counting down. You make it with just a few seconds to spare.

You sigh in relief, but freeze once you turn around. Instead of two men and five women, the room contains two men and four women. Player 120 is standing near the door, ready to run outside when a man pushes her into the room and closes the door just in time for them to lock.

The crying eyes of player 095 look through the slot in the door.

"Young-mi!" Player 120 screams, running towards the door and desperately trying to open it.

The girl outside continues crying until a gunshot is heard and she slides down the door.

Player 120 screams as the woman cries with her son over their lost friend. Dae-ho pulls you close to him as player 120 starts screaming at the man who came in. As sad as his is to see the girl die, he's relieved that it wasn't you out there looking at him through the slot.

The doors unlock and you walk out silently. The others smile when they find you, but immediately notice the missing girl and frown. Without a word, you all step up onto the platform once more as the voice announces that this will be the last round and the music starts up again.

"What do you think it'll be this time?" Jung-bae asks Gi-hun.

"Two," Young-il answers, getting our attention.

"Why?"

"There are 126 people left, and there are 50 rooms. So there won't be enough rooms for everyone, only 100."

You and Dae-ho look at each other. He tightens his grip on your hand, silently telling you that he will bring be with you. You nod at him and get ready to run.

"Two"

Everyone immediately starts running towards the doors in a mad sprint. You stay with Dae-ho, keeping your hands together so you don't get separated.

Dae-ho opens a red door, but you're pushed aside before you can get in with him. You look up as another man pushes inside the room and closes him and Dae-ho in.

Fear like you've never known before takes over your body. You're about to die. Dae-ho can be heard inside the room, screaming your name and trying to open the door, but the man keeps him from getting out. The voice starts to count down from ten. As you accept you're fate, a pair of hands grab you and drag you into a yellow room, throwing you in before throwing the lone person inside out and closing the door.

You gasp for air as you pull yourself off the floor, staying on your hands and knees as you try to get a grasp of what just happened. Someone had saved your life.

Turning to see who your savior is, your eyes grow wide when you read the '246' on his chest.

He kneels beside you, putting a hand on your shoulder. "Are you alright?"

You nod frantically. "Thanks to you."

The gunshots begin outside and you throw your arms around the man in front of you. You'd be one of them if it weren't for him.

"Thank you," you cry into his shoulder as he hugs you back.

"There was enough time. I watched you get pushed and I just had to do something," he says.

You want to say thank him a million times, but words won't come out as you just stay in each others arms.

Two rooms over, Dae-ho's knuckles are stained red with blood as he punches the door over and over. There's no way that you made it in time, he knows that. He turns and screams at the other player in his room for pushing you, attempting to hit him before his cries take over and he falls into the corner of the room, sobbing into his sleeve.

The doors are eventually unlocked and everyone makes their way out. Dae-ho walks out slowly, looking at the floor and feeling empty. He couldn't save you.

The others run over to him, but they all frown and let out a few gasps when they see that the other person coming out of his room isn't you.

Dae-ho finally looks up at his team, though they all look blurry from the tears in his eyes. He must look like a wreck, but he can't even bring himself to care about that.

Jung-bae walks up to him and puts a hand on his shoulder, and Dae-ho breaks down again, sobbing into the shoulder of his fellow ex-marine. The area around them is silent except for Dae-ho's cries. That is until door opens behind them and a small gasp is heard in front of him. Dae-ho looks up at the woman holding her son and sees her looking past him.

"Dae-ho."

Dae-ho freezes when he hears the voice. He slowly turns around, not wanting to get his hopes up and believe that it's you. But there you, alive and standing in front of him. You look at each other for a few seconds before Dae-ho rushes towards you, throwing his arms around you as you do the same.

The man breaks down again as he hugs you. "I thought you were dead. I'm so sorry."

You rub his back as he cries, quietly telling him that it's okay.

He pulls back and cups your face with his hands, making sure to look you over. "I'm so sorry."

"It's alright, Dae-ho, it wasn't your fault," you reassure him. "And I'm okay. Everything is alright."

He nods, though tears continue to fall down his cheeks. "How did you find a room?"

You smile and look behind you at the man walking towards your group. "This man here picked me up off the floor and saved me at the last moment."

Player 246 just smiles. Dae-ho pulls you back into a hug as he thanks the man over and over for saving your life.

The other players start filtering out of the room. You break away from Dae-ho and pull him along with you towards the door.

As you're walking, he throws an arm around you and pulls you against him, placing a desperate kiss on your forehead that makes you blush. "I can't believe you're alive," he whispers against your skin.

You smile at him and take his hand, squeezing it. "You said it yourself, we're going to get out of here. Together."

Dae-ho keeps you close to him as you walk, the others from your team patting you on the shoulder as they tell you they're happy you made it. Dae-ho keeps his eyes on you the whole time, determined to get the both of you out of here. Today.

~

Dae-ho tags: @gudfornuthin

[fushigur0lover]

ceo! toji fushiguro loves spoiling his cute gf

~tags: ceo! toji fushiguro. fluff. toji is honestly a big baby and a sweetheart. reader comforts him. x black reader.

“hey baby, you having fun?” your boyfriend asks you over the phone.

“yeah it’s nice so far, it’s really pretty out” you answer. you're currently walking around one of the outlets near your house. the weather is perfect, not too hot and not too cold. feeling the cool air against your face makes you feel at peace.

“good. i’m sorry i wasn’t able to stay with you. the company has been kinda hectic.” you chuckle to yourself. even though toji was kind enough to give you a ride to the mall, he’s still upset that he couldn’t stay longer.

“it’s okay toji, don’t worry about it. i’ll see you later okay?”

“alright honey be safe, and don’t forget you have my card.” you hang up the phone and begin your shopping spree.

after a long day of shopping, you’ve finally arrived home. one of toji’s men brought you back. you’re lugging all the fancy shopping bags inside and toss them onto the couch and yourself after with an exasperated sigh. “toji?” you call out after noticing he hasn’t shown himself since you arrived. sitting up on the couch, you finally meet eyes with him. he’s leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets.

he’s just staring at you.

“hi toji, everything alright?” you ask, scanning his body language.

“how was your shopping?” he asks, not bothering to answer.

"i had a nice time, got some cute stuff." you say, still skeptic of toji's behavior. he moves to sit next to you, his arms crossed, and his head hung low.

"i thought i told you you have my card."

you stare at him, confused and almost amused at his statement. "you did toji, and i did use your card..."

"yeah for little stuff." he says. throwing his hands in the air, like he's giving up. "you know that i have absolutely no problem with you using my card right? hell, i want you to use it. do you think i'm gonna be mad at you or something?" toji looks at you and for a second, it looks like he's pouting.

"no it's not that baby, i just feel bad when i'm swiping your card all day, that's all." you reach in to caress his cheek.

toji could be kind of cute sometimes.

"well don't feel bad sweetheart, i'm telling you to swipe it all day. you know i don't care and i have plenty enough money for you to spend. it makes me happy knowing you're happy." he leans in to kiss your forehead. you're so grateful to have such a caring boyfriend.

what would you do without him?

[inseobts]

1st Anniversary

what would they do for your first anniversary together?

gn!reader

characters: luffy, zoro, sanji, law, ace

words count: around 0.5k - 0.7k each

masterlist || ko-fi

── .✦ Monkey D. Luffy:

The sun rises over the Thousand Sunny, casting golden light across the deck. You stretch and yawn, rubbing the sleep from your eyes when a sudden weight crashes into you.

"Y/N!" Luffy yells, tackling you with his usual enthusiasm.

You groan but laugh as he wraps his arms around you "Luffy, it's too early for this—"

"IT'S OUR ANNIVERSARY!" he shouts, grinning ear to ear.

You blink. Oh. Right. Your first anniversary together.

Luffy’s never been the best at remembering dates, so you didn’t expect him to bring it up at all. But here he is, vibrating with excitement like a kid who just found a pile of meat.

"You remembered?" you ask, surprised.

Luffy nods eagerly "Of course! I mean… Sanji wrote it down for me… and Nami yelled at me to not forget… and Robin told me what an anniversary even is—but still!"

You chuckle, shaking your head "So, do you have something planned?"

Luffy puffs out his chest proudly "Yup! Captain’s orders: today is Luffy and y/n Day! No crewmates allowed!"

From across the deck, you hear Usopp yell "THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS!"

Luffy ignores him.

"But," he continues, "I, uh, don’t actually know what people do on anniversaries, so I just made some rules!"

Your curiosity piques "Rules?"

Luffy grins, grabbing a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolding it dramatically "Yup! First rule: We gotta eat as much meat as possible!"

You snort "Of course."

"Second rule: No pirate stuff today. Just fun stuff!"

"That’s… actually kind of sweet" you admit.

"And the last rule…" He suddenly scratches his head, cheeks turning a little pink "Well… um…"

You tilt your head "What is it?"

Luffy huffs, clearly frustrated "It's a secret rule! I’ll tell you later!"

You laugh but decide not to push it "Alright, Captain. What’s first on the itinerary?"

It starts with a massive breakfast, courtesy of Sanji (who glares at Luffy the whole time for stealing food off your plate). After stuffing yourselves, Luffy drags you across the Sunny for various "Luffy-approved" activities.

First, there’s an intense game of tag—where Luffy cheats by using his rubber powers. Then, he insists on fishing, though he gets distracted halfway through and jumps in after the fish himself. After drying off (and avoiding Nami’s wrath for getting seawater everywhere), he decides you both need a nap—because "eating and playing is tiring!"

You wake up with Luffy curled around you like a koala, snoring into your hair.

"You really are like a cat" you mumble, gently brushing his bangs aside.

Luffy stirs, blinking up at you sleepily "Hmmm?"

"Nothing" you whisper, smiling.

As the sun starts setting, you and Luffy sit on the deck, watching the waves. The usual chaos of the crew is still happening in the background, but for once, it’s peaceful.

Luffy suddenly perks up "Oh! The secret rule!"

You sit up straighter "Finally. What is it?"

He fidgets, uncharacteristically nervous "Well… I heard anniversaries are for saying important stuff, right?"

You nod "I guess, yeah."

Luffy rubs the back of his neck, looking out at the sea "So… my last rule is… that I gotta tell you something important today. Something really important."

Your heart skips a beat. Luffy isn't usually serious—when he is, it means something big "Okay," you say softly "I'm listening."

He takes a deep breath, then grins, his usual carefree self again "I love you!"

You freeze.

He’s said he likes you before, in his own way—"You're my favorite!" or "I like having you around!"—but he’s never actually said that.

He tilts his head "Was that good? I was practicing in my head all day."

Your eyes soften "You practiced?"

"Yeah!" He laughs "I mean, I already knew I love you, but I wanted to say it today ‘cause, y’know, it’s our thing. Our anniversary thing!"

You shake your head fondly, grabbing his hat and plopping it onto your own head "You’re such an idiot."

Luffy pouts "Hey—"

Before he can complain, you cup his face and kiss him. He makes a surprised noise but quickly melts into it, smiling against your lips.

"Best anniversary ever" he mumbles.

You laugh "You say that now, but wait ‘til next year. You’ll have to top it."

Luffy grins "Easy! Next year, I’ll make a million rules!"

You sigh, shaking your head "What have I gotten myself into?"

Luffy just laughs, pulling you closer as the sun dips below the horizon. The crew groans in the background, but you don’t care. Because as chaotic and ridiculous as he is, Luffy’s way of loving you is perfect.

And that’s all you could ever ask for.

── .✦ Roronoa Zoro:

The sun hangs low over the Thousand Sunny, painting the sky in warm hues of orange and pink. The crew is scattered across the deck, each lost in their own evening routine, but your attention is on one person alone—Zoro.

The swordsman leans against the railing, arms crossed, eyes closed. To anyone else, it looks like he’s resting, but you know better. He’s thinking.

You step closer, hands behind your back “Oi, Zoro.”

His eye cracks open slightly before he turns his head toward you “Hm?”

You smile, rocking on your heels “Happy anniversary.”

For a second, he looks at you blankly, and your heart sinks a little. Did he forget?

Then, with a small smirk, he straightens up “Tch. You really think I’d forget?”

You cross your arms “Honestly? Yes.”

He scoffs “Give me some credit.”

Your curiosity piques “So… you actually planned something?”

Zoro rolls his shoulders, looking away for a brief moment before nodding “Something like that.”

You raise an eyebrow “Wait. Seriously?”

Before you can press further, he jerks his head toward the deck “C’mon.”

He leads you to a quieter part of the ship, where the sounds of the crew fade into the background. A small blanket is laid out on the deck, two cups and a bottle of sake sitting neatly in the center. The sea stretches endlessly before you, the breeze carrying the scent of salt and adventure.

You blink in surprise “Did… you do this?”

Zoro sits down, grabbing the bottle “Sanji might’ve helped. But don’t tell him I said that.”

You chuckle, sitting beside him “Didn’t take you for the romantic type.”

“I’m not.” He pours a bit of sake into your cup, then his own “But I figured… a year with you is worth drinking to.”

Your chest warms at his words. Zoro isn’t one for big, flashy gestures—but when he cares, he shows it in ways that truly matter.

You clink your cup against his “I’ll drink to that.”

As the two of you sip in comfortable silence, you glance at him “So, what was the first thing you thought when we got together?”

Zoro exhales, setting his cup down “That you’re stubborn.”

You laugh “Me?”

“Yeah.” He leans back on his elbows, looking at you “You wouldn’t back down, even when I tried pushing you away.”

You tilt your head “Did you want to push me away?”

Zoro’s gaze softens “…I didn’t want you to be a distraction, you know”

You stare at him, heart squeezing “And now?”

He lets out a slow breath “Now, I know you’re not.”

You smile “Good answer.”

After a few more drinks, the night fully settles in and Zoro turns to you, expression unreadable.

“…I have something for you.”

Your eyes widen, surprised “You got me a gift?”

He reaches into his haramaki and pulls out a small object. He places it in your hand—it’s a charm. It's like a small version of his earrings turned into a pendant and attached to a thin string.

Your breath catches “Zoro…?”

He rubs the back of his neck, looking away “It’s stupid, but… I had it made a while ago. For you.”

You run your fingers over the smooth surface, heart pounding sooooo hard “It’s not stupid. It’s perfect.”

Zoro smirks “You’re stuck with me.”

You laugh, tightening your grip on the pendant and leaving a kiss on his cheek.

── .✦ Vinsmoke Sanji:

The kitchen of the Thousand Sunny is filled with the warm, mouthwatering aroma of freshly cooked food. The scent of caramelized spices and grilled seafood lingers in the air, a sure sign that Sanji is in his element.

You lean against the doorway, watching him work his magic. He moves with effortless grace, flipping a pan, the flames from the stove reflecting in his blue eyes. He hums softly to himself, a tune you recognize as the one he whistles when he’s happy.

You smirk “Cooking me a feast, Chef?”

Sanji turns at the sound of your voice, and immediately, his expression melts “Ah, ma chérie, you’re early.”

You cross your arms, pouting “So I’m not supposed to be here?”

Sanji chuckles, wiping his hands on a towel before stepping closer “I wanted to surprise you...” He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear “But I suppose I don’t mind if you ruin the surprise—after all, you’re the guest of honor!”

Your heart flutters at his words. Sanji has always been charming, but there’s something different about the way he speaks to you, softer, more genuine, as if you’re the only person in the world.

You glance past him at the beautifully arranged table, complete with candles, fine plates, and a bouquet of flowers “You really went all out, huh?”

He grins, taking your hand and spinning you playfully “Only the best for my love.”

Sanji pulls out a chair for you, as the great gentleman he is “Sit and relax. Let me take care of everything.”

You obey, watching as he presents dish after dish, each one plated to perfection “Alright, Chef, walk me through the menu.”

Sanji gestures dramatically “For the appetizer, we have a delicate seafood bisque, infused with saffron and a touch of white wine. For the main course..." He lifts a silver lid, revealing your favorite dish "...a meal crafted specifically for my one and only.”

You gasp, touched “You remembered my favorite?”

Sanji scoffs as if offended “Do you take me for an amateur? Of course I remember.”

You laugh and take a bite, instantly melting at the burst of flavors “Oh my god. I think I just fell in love all over again.”

Sanji chuckles, resting his chin in his palm as he watches you “Then I must be doing it right.”

After finishing the meal and complimenting him so much that he nearly combusts with joy, Sanji disappears into the kitchen. When he returns, he’s holding a small plate with a single dessert on it, a beautifully crafted heart-shaped pastry.

“Happy anniversary, my love” he murmurs, setting it in front of you.

Your eyes soften “You made this just for me?”

Sanji kneels beside you, taking your hand in his “Everything I make is for you, mon amour. But this… this one is special.”

You pick up the dessert, admiring the delicate details. As you take a bite, your taste buds explode with sweetness and spice, just like him.

“It’s perfect” you whisper.

Sanji smiles, but there’s something more in his expression tonight—something deeper “I’m glad,” he murmurs “Because you are, too.”

Your breath catches as he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“Sanji…”

He exhales, resting his forehead against yours “Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done”

Your heart swells, and for once, he’s the one left breathless when you lean in and kiss him.

The chef who’s always served everyone finally gets a taste of something just for himself... a love that’s his to keep.

── .✦ Portgas D. Ace:

The Moby Dick is quiet tonight, the usual noise replaced by something softer (Ace had made sure of it).

You step onto the deck, your brows furrowing as you notice the absence of drunken laughter and boisterous yelling. Instead, a familiar warmth spreads through the air, not just from the ship’s lanterns, but from the flickering flames dancing lazily around a certain freckled man's fingertips.

He’s waiting for you.

“Hey, you’re finally here” Ace calls, grinning as he waves you over “Took you long enough.”

You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms “You were the one who told me to wait in my room. What exactly are you up to?”

Ace scratches the back of his head, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips “Well… it’s our anniversary, right? So I wanted to do something special.”

Your heart skips a beat. He remembered.

You step closer, noticing that he’s set up a "date night" on the deck. There’s a blanket spread out beneath the stars, a small box of food beside it (probably stolen from the kitchen), and a few lanterns hanging. But the real highlight is Ace himself, his flames glow softly around him, casting warm hues against his skin.

“Ace…” You blink, touched “Did you do all this?”

He grins, patting the spot next to him “Well, I had some help from Thatch—mostly because I kept burning the food.”

You laugh as you sit beside him “That sounds about right”

Ace chuckles, handing you a small bowl of your favorite food “I figured I should at least try to do this properly.”

You take a bite, humming in approval “It’s actually pretty good.”

“Damn right it is! I didn’t burn this”

You shake your head, smiling “You’re impossible.”

Ace leans back on his hands, watching you with a lazy grin “Yeah, but you love me anyway.”

Your cheeks warm. He’s not wrong.

After finishing your meal, the two of you lay side by side on the blanket, staring up at the endless sky. The sea is calm, the ship gently rocking beneath you, and Ace's warmth seeps into your skin where his arm brushes yours.

He turns his head, watching you “Y’know… I never really thought I’d make it this far.”

You glance at him “What do you mean?”

Ace hesitates, then exhales “I used to think I wasn’t meant to have stuff like this. Someone who sticks around, someone who actually...” He pauses, then looks at you with a rare softness “...someone who loves me just for being me.”

Your heart aches at his words. You reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his “You deserve this, Ace. You deserve love, and happiness, and everything good in the world.”

Ace stares at you for a moment as he swallows hard.

Then, without a word, he pulls you into a tight embrace, burying his face in your shoulder. His body is warmer than usual but you don’t mind. You hold him just as tightly.

“…Thanks,” he mumbles “for staying.”

You pull back slightly, cupping his face “I’ll always stay.”

Ace lets out a shaky breath, then suddenly grins “Good. ‘Cause I don’t plan on letting you go either.”

Before you can respond, he kisses you, slow and deep.

As he stops you narrow your eyes at him “Alright, spill it. How did you get everyone to be this quiet?”

Ace blinks, then smirks “What, you think I can’t get them to behave when I want to?”

You cross your arms “No, I know you can’t.”

Ace laughs, rubbing his nose “Fine, fine. I might’ve… bribed them.”

You raise an eyebrow “With what?”

He looks away, mumbling under his breath.

“What was that?” You lean in.

“…I promised to do chore duty for a whole week.”

You gasp, eyes wide “You WHAT?”

Ace groans, throwing his head back “I know! But it was the only way! Do you have any idea how hard it is to get this crew to shut up for more than five minutes?”

You burst into laughter, clutching your sides “Oh, this is priceless. You, of all people, voluntarily doing chores?”

Ace grumbles “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I hope you appreciate the sacrifice I made for this romantic evening.”

You wipe a tear from your eye, still giggling “Oh, I definitely do. I'll make it worth for you, don't worry” you wink at him.

Ace huffs but smiles, pulling you back into his arms “It's already worth it”

You hum, resting your head against his chest.

── .✦ Trafalgar D. Law:

The Polar Tang hums quietly beneath your feet as you make your way toward Law’s quarters, your heart pounding just a little faster than usual. Today marks your first anniversary with him, and while you know Law isn’t the type for grand, sweeping gestures, a small part of you wonders if he even remembers.

You wouldn’t be upset if he forgot, he’s busy, after all. But still… a year together means something.

You take a deep breath and knock.

“Come in.”

Pushing open the door, you step inside and immediately stop in your tracks.

The usually cluttered room is different. His desk is cleared, save for a single candle flickering softly beside a small plate of food, your favorite. A delicate piece of folded paper rests next to it, and on the bed, a neatly wrapped package.

Law stands nearby, arms crossed, watching your reaction with an unreadable expression “Took you long enough” he mutters.

You blink at him, then at the setup “You… did this?”

“Tch. Who else?” He glances away, scratching the back of his neck “It’s not a big deal.”

Your heart swells at the effort. It is a big deal, because Law doesn’t do things like this unless they truly matter to him.

Smiling, you walk over to the table and pick up the folded paper “What’s this?”

He doesn’t answer, just watches as you carefully unfold it.

Your breath catches the moment you realize what it is.

It’s a hand-drawn sketch. Of you.

Your fingers tremble as you take in the intricate details, the way your hair falls around your face, the softness in your eyes, the careful shading that brings it to life. He’s captured you perfectly, every detail very precise. But what gets you the most is the expression he’s given you, serene, happy, loved.

“Law…” Your voice is barely above a whisper “You drew this?”

He shifts uncomfortably “Yeah.” His gaze flickers to the side “I… started it a while ago. Just never had a reason to finish it until now.”

Tears sting the back of your eyes, and you clutch the drawing to your chest, overwhelmed. You knew Law was skilled in many things, but this? This is beyond anything you could have expected.

He clears his throat “There’s more.”

You glance toward the package on the bed, wiping your eyes before carefully unwrapping it. Inside is a book... an old, well-kept copy of one you once mentioned loving but never found again.

You stare at it, stunned “How did you—?”

“You talk in your sleep sometimes.” He smirks, finally meeting your eyes “You kept mumbling about it a few months ago, so I figured I’d find it.”

You let out a small, watery laugh “You found this for me?”

Law shrugs, but there’s a flicker of pride in his expression “It’s not a big deal.”

You set the book and drawing aside before closing the distance between you, your hands resting on his chest “It is a big deal,” you murmur, looking up at him “Thank you, Law. Really.”

He exhales softly, his fingers ghosting over your waist before settling there, pulling you a little closer “Didn’t want you thinking I forgot” he mutters.

You smile, reaching up to cup his face “I wouldn’t have minded, you know. Just being with you is enough.”

His golden eyes search yours, something unspoken passing between you before he finally gives in. His lips find yours in a slow, deliberate kiss, one that speaks of everything he doesn’t say out loud.

He tastes like mint and tea, his hands firm yet gentle as they slide up your back, pressing you against him. The kiss deepens, his fingers threading through your hair as he tilts your head to deepen the connection. Your breath hitches when he nips at your bottom lip before soothing it with another lingering kiss.

When you finally part, your foreheads rest together, both of you breathing a little heavier.

“Happy anniversary” you whisper.

His smirk returns, softer this time “Yeah. Happy anniversary.”

You grin “Think we’ll make it another year?”

Law scoffs, tilting your chin up so he can steal another kiss “I know we will.”

And in that moment, with his arms around you and the warmth of his lips lingering on yours, you have no doubt he’s right.

[dilf-docs]

All Roads Lead To Rome

pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: your boyfriend swears he isn't annoyed at your little surprise visit on the set of gladiator II; you might have to help him release his anger, one way... or another.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (BARK BARK BARK), smut, p. in v., bit of exhibition kink cause they fuck on his trailer, he swears he's mad but he just wants head, oral (m. receiving), he also uses his armor and skirt while at it bc its hot and not bc i totally want that to happen to me or smth!!!, brat taming, orgasm denial, breeding and daddy kink lowkey, i'm so down bad for him so there's fluff!!! + pedro being whipped cause that's exactly what i want in my men, the cast makes cameos bc i love them!!!, use of spanish (i'm latina so don't even try me)

word count: 3,519 words

side note: i'm about as FERAL and horny as much as one could be!!! damn u pedro, making me walk out in the middle of class and walk on foot to the nearest theather for an early gladiator II screening (bc they're cheaper and i'm a jobless broke student lmao) that mind u it's my first solo trip to the movies but it's okay!!!! nobody interrupt me on my horny dilf hours amirite I TELL U that cinema was almost empty: just me, pedro and hey there's a spot if u wanna join mescal (look at my blog banner IYKYK) so yeah!!!! enjoy this porn lovechild that steemed from it; my pedro renaissance that'd been asleep since tlou dropped AWAKES (u don't get it, i literally watched narcos just for him) i'm so fr i need this man BIBLICALLY!!

"Lemme guess, that's her, right?"

Pedro looks up from his phone, slightly red and embarrassed. He would blame the color on the sun, and as an actor, fake his way out.

"No idea what you're talking about, Paul"

The young man chuckles.

"I mean, every break we get, you take your chair, sit the farthest and pull your phone with the most ridiculous grin I've ever seen. I'm afraid to tell you, friend, you aren't as slick as you think"

He leans back against the chair, covering his face with his large palm.

"At least I tried" he finds no point in lying anymore, "seems like I'm addicted, but if it wasn't for y/n, I wouldn't touch it"

"I'm curious, though" Paul scoots his chair closer, "who texts who? You or her?"

"Me" he answers, but then corrects himself quickly, a bit ashamed of how that makes him sound, "but it's mostly her first".

"Right" he doesn't sound convinced, rather curious and annoyed, something he's too old and tired for, "I don't believe you"

He's about to lock his phone, but the wallpaper (a selfie with you) would probably earn him another mock from Mescal.

"Too bad I don't need you to"

Before he can do so, the irish man yanks his phone away.

"Give it back!" he shouts, earning a few glances from the crew around them, "what are you, ten?"

"No, twenty-eight" they look like kids bickering. "No need to fight me, Mr. Pascal, they haven't taught us the new fighting choreography yet" he mocks, before the phone chimes; they both stop at the sound.

"What does this mean?" Paul asks. "Malta's nice" he reads out loud, "were you talking about possible future vacations? I might have to tag along"

He doesn't follow the man's joke, instead, looking at the message on your chat. Malta's nice, says the little cryptic message, and yes―it is cryptic, because you were just talking about missing each other and some other corny stuff he'd take to his grave. Not vacations, and certainly, not about the european island, which happens to also be the place were he's filming his latest movie.

"No, we weren't" he replies confused, "what do you think it means?"

"Well, obviously, you boys don't know anything" May pops up from behind, laughing.

"Were you eavesdropping?" he asks playfully, albeit, a little offended.

"No, you guys are just too loud" she replies nonchalant. "Besides, you aren't very good at hiding it, either"

"That's what I said!" Paul backs, laughing on his face.

"Stop being misterious and just drop it"

"It means" she pauses―laughing at her own little dramatic effect, "that you're getting a visit soon"

When you met Pedro, you were working in The Last Of Us. Nothing fancy, just part of the technical cast of the show: helping with the filming and stuff.

During those months, it was easy to find yourself falling for the main star (alongside Bella Ramsey), especially when you spent months behind a camera, capturing all of his perfect features; learning them by memory until you could draw them without seeing his face.

Yes, you had fallen for the older man, because it was as natural as breathing; easy as being alive―the fall so gentle and so easy, it was hard to know when the feelings started. You just woke up one day, feeling different.

You liked to act up―always had what you wanted, and times had changed (so it's not like he had to ask first): why not? Which is why during your last day of shooting you took some liquid courage on your veins and went up his way. It was at a little gathering the crew you've grown to call family organized, while wearing your favorite and tightest dress, that you approached him.

It surprised you that he even recognized you, but that's who he was: warm, welcoming and caring.

To augment the surprise, turns out he had eyed you already, but was too shy to do anything. Yes, the worlds most famous Chilean man. It did stroke your ego, and maybe that's why you feel like most of the time, you've got the upper hand on your relationship, despite the years in between.

Still, you feel like the last message you just sent was a bit too blunt. Now you sit at the tiny airport, pondering your next move.

You know your boyfriend isn't exactly the type to scold or get mad―despite his strong figure, but going against the only thing he asked you might test him. Which is why you feel nervous, despite the happiness around you, everyone in the airport looking straight out of a picture perfect summer edition magazine.

And your theory is proven exactly right when you arrive impromptu at the Gladiator II set: making heads turn and guards almost kick you out, thinking you're a fan.

"You don't get it!" you protest, "he's my boyfriend".

"Sure", they laugh on your face. "you're not the first to say that".

"She's not lying" oh, how you love that gravely voice. But not today: not when he sounds like a parent scolding a naive child. Not when his eyes bore into you, slightly irritated.

So now he's dragging you among the set, right to were his trailer is.

"Aren't you going to introduce me?" you ask, puffing your cheeks out in annoyance. He keeps dragging you by the arm, without sparing a glance in your way. Who does he think he is? "I wanted to tell Paul he made me cry―twice. You know I don't play about Normal People and Aftersun"

"But you do seem to play about my orders" he grunts out, opening the door to his trailer. The sunlight reflects against the white, slightly bothering your eyes with its shine, contrary to your boyfriend's gloomy behaviour.

"Are you being serious right now? You're not my dad to scold me. I just wanted to surprise you" you stand still, refusing to get inside. Pedro knows your character tends to be stubborn, and thought he finds it hot to reel you up sometimes, there are other times where he can't just stand that juvenile spirit of rage you tend to have when things don't go the way you want them to. "What's gotten into you?"

"I could ask you the same" he mocks. "Get inside. Now"

"Rude" you scoff, but obey regardless, and he breathes out relieved you didn't do a scene like last time; he still can't show his face on that restaurant to this day.

"I thought you'd be happy to see me" you say a tad bit dissapointed, and Pascal feels the pissed off feelings clouding his brain start to dissipate.

"I do, amor" he sighs, "just hate to see you do things I tell you not to; waltzing in here like you own the place".

You don't see the mistake, though. What's wrong with wanting to do a little surprise? It's not like you were a stalker or something; just a very clingy girlfriend who happens to miss her boyfriend.

"So, you're not mad?" you venture, "tell me you're not embarrassed"

He looks at you, the fondness of his gaze betraying him.

"I'm not the one wearing a skirt while trying to sound intimidating" you joke while caressing the crook of his nose, knowing you always get on his good side. Being mad isn't something that lasts, "if anyone should be embarrassed, that's you"

"Are you saying I shouldn't wear one because I'm a man?" your boyfriend looks offended, "Have you forgotten the movie I'm starring in? People feared the skirt-wearing Roman army"

"Well, I'm not intimidated" you stand defiant, and something dark tints his brown eyes. You can feel the excitement begin pooling in your stomach.

"You're not?" he grips your wrists and yanks you to him, then holds your chin, tilting your head between his calloused fingers. "Well, cariño, you should be"

Your body slams against one of the trailers walls, and you have to suppress a whine.

"You must be punished for what you did today"

You give him a doe-eye look, pretending to be all innocent, as if you weren't enjoying the punishment.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I've been a good girl"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about" he clicks his tongue, "don't play dumb with me"

"I just came to visit you" you murmur, voice husky against his ear. He grunts, and with the proximity, his hard-on rasps against your bare legs, only partly covered by the flowy summer dress you're wearing, "is that so bad?"

"It is. Has sido mala, cariño" his hand travels down under your dress, carresing with his large palm the silhoutte of your ass. The rings on his fingers create a shock, cold metal against your warm sun-bathed skin. "Naughty girl"

"I promise I'll be good, papi" you purr, using that honeyed voice of yours that makes it hard: hard to say no and hard between his pants.

Pedro sits on a small couch he has inside the trailer, guiding you with his hand enveloped around yours, motioning you to follow with a care so soft, you'd doubt he's about to do to you what he is about to do to you. He pulls you across his lap, smiling (God, you love his smile) as your stomach presses against his tights.

"Don't worry" he breathes low, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll make you a good girl. Tell me, aren't you?"

You swallow, "I am"

He moves the panties easily to the side, rubbing your pussy a little. He then spanks it softly, making you mewl at the sting.

Pedro continues to trace over it, "Are you sure about that?"

"N-no" you shiver in delight, resolve dissolving as quick as it came. "I'm naughty"

"It's good to be aware" he murmurs, "Dilo otra vez"

"I'm a naughty girl"

He lifts your head by your hair. "Tell me what you did"

"Disobeyed your orders, coming to the set" you whisper. He lets go of your hair, his hands traveling down again, slowly teasingly rubbing your pussy while he humms.

"You were a little brat, amor"

You whimpered and mewled in delight. "I was a very naughty brat"

He pushed his fingers inside you, plunging his fingers into your pussy.

"Look at you. You're soaking wet" he pumped his fingers in you, making you moan, "Is that why you came to see me? Couldn't wait any longer for daddy to be inside of you?"

You bucked a little, making him stop. He drags his fingers out, causing you to beg for him to go back.

"Answer my question you greedy thing" He leaned closer to your ear. "Did you need my cock this much?"

You whimper, "I do! Missed you so much"

He pushed his fingers back into you, provoking a moan out of you.

"You're always so needy for me" your core tenses, making you shiver. "How badly do you want me? Tell me"

You whimpered "Badly, papi"

"Say it" his face contorts in satisfaction at your pathethic display; crying little mess, "Who's cock, fingers and mouth make you feel good?"

You can't think at this point, your brain fuzzy and pussy hot, leaking. You kiss his lips, moaning against them, "you!"

"Just me, yes? Nobody else can make you feel this good?"

"No one!"

You involuntarily roll your hips to aid you in pleasure, yet Pedro stops you just before you can reach your orgasm.

"Little brat." he tuts, making you groan. "Did you think I'd let you? You were naughty today, baby"

You huff in annoyance, used to having your way.

"That's your punishment"

"But I'll behave" you mewl against his ear, "I promise"

“Good, because I'm planning on fucking your brains out” his hot breathe whispers in your ear seductively, trying his best not to slur the words at the drunken haze that your arousal provokes in him, "but you have to help me first"

You get on your knees, looking at the garment he's wearing. The skirt and general costume makes this all the more hot, mouth watering at the sight. You raise the skirt, glancing at the briefs; just seeing his dick strained against the fabric makes you wet in anticipation.

He sees the pleasure bore into your orbs, and before you do any dirty idea of yours, he's already warning:

"You have to take this off, what if we-"

"Alright" you cut him off, "but the skirt stays"

"Sigue, pues" he growls, voice low yet demanding, following you in your little game.

As you pull the briefs down, his erection springs out enthusiastically, slapping up against his lower abdomen. You shifted your gaze up to meet his, his eyelids heavy and his proud smirk driving you absolutely wild.

"That's right" he chokes out, "show me how much you missed it"

You give him a proud lick, and Pedro hisses at the moment his preseminal fluid goes in between your hungry lips.

Your tongue darts to the head of his cock, running over it several times before bobbing your head down, taking most of him in your mouth. He keeps praising as you pump the base of his cock with your hand. Your head bobs, yet you peek up to hear Pascal's little sounds and facial expression, a motivation so intimate in the way his brows furrow and eyes roll, mouth agape at your movements while his lip suck on those pretty lips of his. It makes you keep going. With every bob you take as much of him in your mouth as you can, before slowly moving your way back up to the tip, increasing your suction the closer to his head you got. A throaty moan escapes the man above you when you now focus on the final lick, making him closer to coming, all while maintaining eye contact the entire way through.

"Don't do that" he rasps, yanking you by the hair again, as of punishment, but he knows you enjoy it, "you promised you'd be good"

You can't answer, so instead, you reach the head of his cock again, and now his eyes roll back, mumbling profanities that sound like heaven.

"Do you want them to hear us, brat? Qué necia eres" he manages to chastise while moaning.

You feel his dick stuck in your throat, and the way he's about to come; you think that after some time dating, you know him well enough.

You're about to leave with your mouth when he stops you.

"No" your eyes open in shock, "what? Did you think your punishment is over?" Pedro laughs, "don't look at me like that. Like you have never done it before"

He keeps you in place by the hair, the rings prickling against your scalp. You feel his muscles tense up, and before you can think anything else thick and hot shots of cum invade your mouth, making it sticky and warm.

"Don't pretend you don't like it" his voice goes dark, husky. "Swallow it all. Te han enseñado a no desperdiciar nada, ¿verdad? Show me your good manners, then"

When you pull out, your throat feels raspy.

"You gotta reward me" you cough out.

"I promised, didn't I?" his fingers trace your face delicately, with adoration.

"It's all about duty, General Acacius" you purr, and the dick springs out again. Hard.

"Princess..." he warns.

"For the glory of Rome" you joke and laugh, then cough, as your throat is still sore.

"Have you been reading my script?" as you avoid to answer, he just chuckles, "ay, nena"

"C'mere" he motions, and you sit on his lap again. Pedro lifts your dress, exploring the curve of your ass. There's anticipation as he hooks his finger around the waistband of your panties, pulling them down to access your core.

"Fuck" you squirm at his touch, grinding your freed cunt against his hard cock. He grabs you by the hip, adjusting you right on his lap.

"You taste so good" he kisses down your throat, ending at the chest were your tits peak.

"Want them?" you offer, pulling your dress down. He kisses them, gently nipping at your perked up nipples.

A wave of pleasure courses through you, and with whines and moans, you show how desperate you are, the hunger making the meal taste better. After all those weeks missing him, you just want him to fuck you senseless.

His lips are rosy and swollen against yours, mouths clashing; starved of the yearned contact. Truth is, no matter how much you know how to touch yourself, it'll never be the same as having his hard cock tear through your tight folds.

Pedro easily aligns his leaking cock with your uncovered pussy, all while mantaining the kiss. He pushes down on you, your dripping cunt taking all of his rock-hard cock, fingers holding onto the soft brown grey sprinkled locs.

"Pedro" you cry out his name, full of ecstasy as the stretch burns so sweetly. His low grunts only fuel your desire.

You trace with your eyes his body, now bare without the upper part of the costume: his pecs and abs, flexing with every pump. With now free hands, your fingers travel to softly caress his stomach, even if your tits are jiggling and the pace is rather frenetic.

"I missed you so much" you pout.

"I missed you too" he whispers out, getting tired.

He's reminded of his old age, forgetting about it as soon as you two kiss, because you bring out a stamina he thinks he doesn't have anymore; almost animalistic. His bones creak and adding the tiring filming day under the hot sun, he feels his body start to give up, the orgams closer and closer.

"Missed how you look" you clash your lips onto his, the adoration translating through the smile you press against, a trail of saliva that symbolizes how interwined you are, "you always look so fucking good"

He blushes, feeling like a stupid school boy with a crush. What did he even do to deserve you? Never thought a pretty young wild thing like you would even spare a glance on his way, but now you're taking all of his cock inside with such greed yet loom into his eyes with a love he's only dreamed of.

You're real, and his.

As soon as those words leave your mouth your orgasm spills over him, some of it dripping onto the skirt, making him curse. You can't stop, still meeting his thrusts halfway, despite your trembling body after reaching your high.

"Mierda" he groans against your mouth,

You feel yourself collapsing on top of him, the weight of the jet lag catching up.

"Getting tired, baby?" he coos. "Shit, and I thought I was old"

"You are" you reply back; you can never not have the last word. And he lets you, because, God, doesn't he love you? He pretends to look offended by it, but the way your eyes shine tell him you didn't mean it that way. "You and your white hairs" tracing over his moustache, a soft hand combing through his locks, "These wrinkles... don't you know how much I love them? how much I love you?"

"And you have no idea how much I love you" he squeezes his eyes shut, feeling it coming through. "God, wanna make you mine. Sólo mía" his pace slows. It's coming, and yes, you will take it all. "Wanna make you a baby, mami. Want you to take it all like the good girl you are"

When he comes, filling you with burning hot cum until you feel like you might burst, you're numb. But there's a feeling so content that pools warmth in your chest, that you can't say anything else, resting your head against his bare chest, both covered in sticky sweat.

"No sé cómo voy a explicar esto" he speaks through ragged breathes, and you can only smirk, "a squirted and cummed roman skirt".

"That isn't my problem" he scoffs, and you feel your head rise against the movement, earning a laugh out of you, "I'm not part of the movie"

"You'd sure think so, with the way you walked in here"

You roll your eyes, face hidden against his chest, "can you let that go?"

"You're right" he pulls you closer to him, hand enveloping you behind your bare back. The quiet doesn't bother you as you lie closer to his chest, his heartbeat the only thing you need to be at peace, "I think punishment time is over. Think you've learned your lesson"

"Then, how about we go out? I've heard Malta's beaches are pretty"

"Relájate, cariño. Seems you've gotten your energy back" he quips, then kisses your forehead. "We need to wait for everyone to get out"

"That embarrased you are of me?" you joke.

"No" he can already imagine his fellow cast members making fun of him, starting with Paul and Joseph when they see you and Connie who will totally notice the fun sticky stains on the costume, "but embarrased of the explanation I'll have to give"

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @a7estrellas

[3verythingiknowaboutlove]

first fall of snow

how spencer guesses you're pregnant before you actually tell him

fluff word count: 1390 warnings & tags & stuff: pregnant reader, slight issues with mother mentioned?, non-graphic vomiting, mentions/allusions to winter holidays being celebrated, kinda spencer's pov but still 2nd pov, reader is scared spencer will leave her lol, anxious!reader in general, mentions of death?, probably medical inaccuracies ive never been pregnant author's note: hiiii i'm forcing myself to post this because if i don't then i'll never post and i'm being BRAVE. i hope it can be a little comforting maybe. i've realllyyyy been struggling with my take on spencer's characterization lately soo this was kinda like a bootcamp/exercise situation into his mind and less an expression of my writing skills, iykwim. let me know your thoughts if u have any! i love you & have a splendid day!!

Spencer is walking—speed walking—toward his car, away from the case he just finished, away from serial killers and guns and geographical profiling and death.

He places his feet carefully on the snow-covered sidewalk with each step, the cold air biting at his face. He barely notices it, absorbed in the path ahead, as the snow provides a satisfying crunch underfoot—a nice background to his perpetually racing mind.

He doesn’t like the winter. It’s always too harsh outdoors, and too stuffy indoors, and he’s trapped in a suffocating haze no matter where he goes. 

His phone starts to vibrate gently in his pocket, interrupting his racing thoughts for a split second. His pace falters as he pulls it free, a quick smile tugging at the corner of his lips when he sees it’s your name on the screen.

“Hi. How are you?” he asks after picking up, watching his breath come out in puffs of vapor in the cold air.

Winters, however, have gotten progressively better each year he spends with you.

“...I’m okay,” you say, though the crack in your voice reveals the all-consuming ache in your bones and mind.

“No. You’re overwhelmed,” he guesses in his matter-of-fact way, voice gentle. You huff out a soft laugh at his ability to read you, never getting old.

“Yeah, I guess. A little. The holiday season, you know. Are you on your way home?” you ask, voice softer now. You’re sitting on the couch of yours and Spencer’s cozy apartment, wrestling with a blanket to cover your lap, and bouncing your leg relentlessly.

“I’m walking to the car now. Hey, have you done the crossword today?” Spencer asks, words a familiar, tender remedy for your nerves. You told him a long time ago that hearing his voice makes you feel better, and there are times, like these, where he just knows it’s what you need. You rest our head on the arm of the couch, curling up.

“No, I didn’t have the time. Why?”

“There was an interesting question about causes of death in Shakespeare plays, but they completely messed up the part of speech. It read, ‘Popular ways to die by the hands of England’s national poet’. I thought it was ‘poisons’ at first, but it was actually ‘stabbed’, even though the correct answer grammatically should’ve been ‘stabs’ or ‘stabbings’,” he says, his car now in sight through the steady sprinkle of snow coming down. “Do you think I should send an email to let them know? I guess stabbing does make more sense, though, versus poison, because throughout his works, thirty characters out of his 74 that died were stabbed compared to only four that were poisoned. Three were stabbed and poisoned. Did you know that two were actually baked into pies, which is a-”

“Oh my god, the pie,” you groan, cutting him off mid-sentence, sitting up hastily, the blanket falling to the floor.

“Pie?”

“Yeah. My mom coerced me into making it to bring tomorrow.” You pad over to the kitchen and crouch down to peek through the hazy glass of the oven, inspecting it. “Oh,” you murmur. “It’s…not pretty.”

He sandwiches the phone in between his ear and shoulder, gently opening the door to his car to sit down as he listens to you. He turns the heat on, exhaling in an exhausted relief, hovering his hand over where the air comes out. 

“Can you tell me what it looks like? Maybe I can help,” he suggests, leaning back against the headrest and letting his eyes close for a second. You put the phone on speaker, setting it on the counter as you bend down to take it out. “Don’t burn yourself,” he adds, hearing what you’re doing.

“I’m not going to burn my-” you cut yourself off with a huff. “Whatever. It’s just really messy. There’s like… liquid overflowing where the lattice should be.”

He hums. “How long has it been cooking for?”

“45 minutes. My mom sent me this one ancient recipe that I had to use written on parchment paper from like 70 years ago, and it does not have a bake time listed, so I’m just eyeballing it.”

“Okay. You could either put it back in the oven in hopes that more of the liquid will evaporate, or you can leave it out to cool down and hopefully thicken,” he says.

“What do you think I should do?”

“I think you sound exhausted and need your sleep.” 

You sigh, staring at your mess of a pie, hopes that you’ll appease your mother this year slipping further and further away, soon to be completely buried by the snow.

“Hey. I’m sure it’ll taste really good. Besides, people still liked Shakespeare, and he wrote about much worse pies than you could ever make.” 

A smile pulls at your lips.

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll just leave it out to cool and head to bed. Will you stay on the phone a little longer?” you ask, padding over to your shared bedroom.

“Of course.”

He doesn’t start driving as you talk, not when nearly 2000 people die per year due to driving on icy roads, and two thirds of them were people who were reported to not be paying close enough attention.

And especially not when 54 hours ago on your last phone call, he noticed a drastic shift in your behavior, and was quickly able to tell that you were pregnant. 

He had too much waiting for him at home to be spinning out on black ice because he was talking to you and not watching the road.

He chooses instead to look outside at the falling snow, blanketing the city, his city, the very first for D.C. to have this winter out of the septillion snowflakes planet earth receives each year.

…

Spencer gets home a little later that night, holding another pint of cherries in his hands. Not for the pie—which he turns to see resting on the stove and winces slightly at—but for you. 

Cherries, with their 342 mg of potassium per cup, help replenish lost electrolytes and can soothe nausea.

He’s expecting it to start any day now.

He quietly steps into the bedroom, setting his bag by the door to be dealt with tomorrow. The soft glow of the lamp that was left on, presumably for him by your endlessly considerate heart, provides just enough light so he can get changed. He then finally clambers into bed next to you, one hand reaching out to lace in your hair, moving his fingers to gently scratch by the nape of your neck. He lifts the other to rest, like you're made of a delicate china, on your lower stomach, sighing in pure relief the second it makes contact.

You turn sleepily, humming when you’re met with the sight of him. “Spence,” you murmur, contented.

“Hi. I really didn’t mean to wake you up. I’m sorry,” he says, so quietly.

“I'm glad you did. I like it when you wake me.” You tuck yourself closer to him. “I love you.” His hand comes to trace gentle patterns all over your back and arm, and he gives you a little kiss, adoringly.

“Go back to sleep. I love you.”

You let your eyes shut once again, this time much easier now that he’s with you. You inhale his scent, which you swear could repair anything broken or lost in this world. You exhale, wondering if he’d still hold you the same way after learning that you’re carrying his child. 

It’s a scary thought, but you’re comforted by his warm touch, pushing you farther out into the deep sea of sleep.

Once your breaths get steady and your mouth parts slightly, he adds, in a whisper, “Both.”

…

The next morning, when you’re hunched over the toilet bowl, Spencer is there with you, rubbing your back and wiping your teary eyes. You look up to him after brushing your teeth, and no words are exchanged. He tugs you into his arms, silently quelling any of the countless anxieties swarming your mind, at least in this moment.

His hand comes up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. He lets it rest there, cupping your jaw.

“Let’s go shopping after breakfast today, okay? You need prenatal vitamins.” He presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“And a new pie.”

[cloudyweatherahead]

can't believe my nearly two-hour mental health blogging got interrupted by my brother calling me at 2am to ask me if i think he'll miss his late night bus

can't a girl try to achieve inner calm in peace you motherfuckers