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dilf-docs · 2 months ago

Text

My Baby's Fit Like A Daydream

husband!pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: your relationship is finally out to the world. now, pedro and you will explore what it feels like to have your love out in the open.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, FLUFF, the empire of bad humor strikes again, hurt/comfort bc all roads lead back to angst, a brief mention of bodyshaming, this is lowkey pwp my bad, dirty talk, fingering, p. in v., bathroom sex ijbol, exhibition kink (they be fucking everywhere but in a bed), degradation kink (he calls her a slut twice), the one and only creampie (twice), so naturally: breeding kink, ALSO pls stop the husband!pedro reqs, i beg. a delulu girl can only take so much 💔

word count: 10,991 words

side note: not one but two requests to be fullfilled! this is as a sequel to call it what you want. also, spam time: i happen to write in wattpad as well, and i have a pedro pascal social media fic going on :) but it's on spanish tho. if u speak the language and would like to tune in, read it here AND spam again but speaking of the ptwt dynamic, why don't we become moots? check my (new) stan twitter account here (i had one in 2022 that i had since 2016 but entered a crisis and deleted it lol)

part: prev | masterlist | next

The news had spread like wildfire.

As soon as you hit the red carpet, hand on hand, rings finally on display―shining under the spotlight, your phone had been blowing up nonstop: every show, podcast, tabloid, news outlet and social media had been talking about it. California had turn into an easter egg playground; everyone was eager to know it all.

(They had found the church where you married, the dress boutique, jewelry shop where Pedro bought the rings―the employees ratted him out, even sharing pictures of the moment, your husband posing with them without knowing of the future treason. They too had found the place where the reception took place, and even the name of the priest who had married you, but he refused to give the hungry press any details. God Bless)

In short, it had been a hell of a week. You figured dissapearing for a while was for the best, but with some interviews still left, that option had been discarded. Still, doesn't mean you couldn't retreat for a couple of days to the tranquility of your home while it was time to show up again. Well, as peaceful as it could get, since reporters were camping near your house and roaming around Hollywood Hills like vultures; the neighbour's nagging was just another layer of problems in your shit cake.

"I'm sorry, Louis. Walks will be postponed for a while" you talk to your cat, but the lazy bastard just stretches and lays down again. "Yeah, I can see you're affected. Don't cry"

"It's not the cat's fault" Pedro emerges from behind, "don't take it out on him"

He takes a sit next to you, two mugs in hand. He gives you the one with a chocolate steam, a souvenir he bought when you visited your home country last summer. You wonder if that's a trip you'll ever be able to make again.

"I'm not. Just- It's horrible that I can't even go outside my own house and walk the same roads I've walked in four years because the press is hidden with cameras in, I don't know, bushes!" you exclaim, quiet rage carried within your words. "It's unfair, really. All I want is to walk my damn cat without a flash up my ass"

Pedro nestles his face in your neck, nose carressing the skin. Giggles leave your lips, the sensation ticklish.

"It'll pass. It always does" he says, voice assuring, probably because he's used to the violation of privacy, but you're not. Getting bigger, is this the price to pay for making a name for yourself and claiming out loud who you love?

"I hope so" you murmur above the quietness of your home, a sound as eerie as fake, devoid of it's tranquil nature as a world of invasion awaits outside.

"Do you trust me?" Pedro speaks, voice unwavering. He holds your gaze, steady brown challening your shaky orbs.

"I do" you speak up, yet you wish you could believe it. You believe in him, there's no question to that, but do you believe in yourself? That the love you'd put out to the world would be treated with the same care and respect you have treated it in secret? For a fleating moment, you miss the secrecy.

"Then trust me this will be over sooner than expected" he presses a kiss to your lips, soft and sweet, feeling remanents of chocolate he licks away, as you mockingly yell ¡Qué sucio! but it's devoid of malice. "In time, this will become another anecdote we'll share with our kids, and laugh with our grandkids when we get older"

You smile, feeling tears in the corner of your eyes. Oh, doesn't he turn you into a pathetic sappy wife?

"Well" you sniffle, giggling to push back the tears away. "About the old part..."

He playfully kicks your side. "Uno ya no puede ser romántico, que le salen con estas cosas. Your generation could use some respect, you know?" (one can't simply be romantic anymore)

Pedro gets up, picking the mug from your hands as both rings brush together, the gold shinning under the morning Californian sun.

"And your generation could take a joke" you quip, lips curled up like you hadn't in weeks.

"Very funny, y/n. Thought you loved me" but then he's pressing a kiss to your temple like kissing you once isn't enough, promising to return after washing down the mugs.

"I do!" you shout to his dissapearing broad frame as he enters the kitchen, and he playfully makes a dissmissing move with his palm.

The laughing dies when your phone chimes next to you.

You shouldn't really, but the curiosity that draws you in is as intense as a magnet. The phone burns on its position, screaming for you to open it, despite being told by your husband that the best was choice was to ignore it until the buzz had died down, but you're afraid the turmoil isn't nowhere to be finished. Comments can be mean, he'd said, they can hurt you. Pedro said he'd learn with time to ignore it, but he was experienced. You weren't, so naturally, as your husband and protector, he wanted to shield you from the pain.

Although, both of your fandoms had been pretty supportive of your relationship, some user even claiming to suspect it, making threads full of easter eggs and connections that validated the theory which was now a reality. I've connected the dots, followed by pictures of you sharing wardrobe, slips on interviews, similar backgrounds in your posts across social media, and of course, the two Gladiator Ii interviews. Many resorted to making edits or screaming over your pictures in the premiere, demanding for more content you had yet caved in to share (there was a gigantic carpet of evidence sitting heavy in your cloud).

So, in a way, this support made it hard for you to truly dimension the hate Pedro warned you about: all you saw was fans being happy and showering you with love, making paparazzi to be the only problem as for now.

That's it.

You cave in, turning the phone on as you bite your lip, searching first your Instagram: a bunch of new followers, many with variations of ispunk on their usernames, as well as a swarm of comments on your recent posts. There's a small voice in your head telling you to turn away, but your thumb moves without thinking, clicking on pictures of the red carpet―a carrousel of you and then a picture of you both at the end, one fans had been gushing about the last couple of days, rings on display, practically up their noses. You were smiling, and Pedro was looking at you fondly, his other hand holding Lux but his gaze never leaving yours; he was too perfect to be real―yours.

You unconsciously smile at the captured moment, love obvious on your faces, so you open the comments, thinking it would be the same support or love radiating of the comment.

But boy, weren't you wrong?

It was all the same, support lost between waves of hate. Variations of bodyshaming, age shaming and even gold digger claims were on full display across the comment section. "She's ugly" "In it for the money, am I right?" "I thought Pedro had better taste, lol" "She got the role in Gladiator II because of nepotism. Or cocksucking" and then a cruel answer that read "Right, threesome with Ridley. Ew, what a whore!"

Worst of it all, some even had Pedro profile pictures, or usernames and accounts dedicated to him.

Your heart was beating like crazy, chest heavy and hollow, face red with emotions you couldn't quite place (embarrasment? fear? rage? sadness?) as you kept searching across Twitter*, doing a quick skim of the trendings that included you. The same hate speech pattern was all over the timeline, some betting for divorce in a couple of years (even months!), while others took their time dissecting your looks and relationship. As if they knew. Long gone were the edits and harmless threads: the hate wave was here to stay. Some where even being a bit racist, the irony of it all, being Pedro himself was latino and didn't shy away from it, rather proud as he didn't miss an opportunity to shot out his dear Chile. Or any social issue, as a matter of fact, very vocal on his political beliefs.

This was fucking ridiculous, and if the cameras were an issue, this swarm of negativity is what really took a toll on you, the flashes as you went grocery shopping now barely a scratch. No, this was worst. All you wanted to do was cuddle in a blanket while wearing one of Pedro's shirts and dissappear. Too much noise. Too much hate. You can feel it creeping up your body, tainting your soft curves, wrinkles, acne scars and face. It's like rough hands, tugging harsh, ripping your vocals because you can't scream; no words to express this pain.

You knew one day it would come, but never imagined the hurt and to what extent people were capable of. Cruelty. Dissecting your life and body like it was a show for them to be entertained: your marriage was a circus and your body a joke.

It hurt their condescending dismiss of your love, questioning as if the gap were only numbers and not a pillar of your relationship that made you and Pedro closer, despite the bridge in age. You were reduced to a middle-age crisis, and he to a filthy man pinning for a younger girl. Your body was turn apart, despite no real flaws existing. Humans are meant to be so, not perfect, but real, and that was the problem: you had turn into an object―a target for their dards to pierce through.

Your body shakes violently with cries, deafening your ears that you don't hear when Pedro walks in.

"Why are you crying?" he rushes to your side, panic on his voice. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

You barely manage to shake your head, and then his eyes scan all over your features, until they land on the phone on your hands. The worry turns to anger as he asks:

"You looked at them, didn't you?"

He isn't yelling, but it would be better if he did. This contained fury, fading into dissapointment, as if you were a naive child scolded by their parents makes you feels small and stupid, as if you knew no better.

"I'm sorry-" you manage to choke out among tears, "I know you told me-"

"I told you" he interrupts, words laced with wrath, "so this wouldn't happen. See what happens?"

"Why are you talking to me like it's my fault?" you yell, and Pedro sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. "I didn't ask to receive all this! Do I deserve the death threats, shame and hate?"

He walks past you, and it's like a slap to your face. Was he going to behave like this? Didn't it matter how you felt, or was it something childish that could be brush to the side like nothing? Insecurities you hadn't even think of come crashing down on you, doubts creeping up and attacking you from all sides. It's horrible. You try to hold onto the good memories, praying you don't loose him. You can't. You just can't.

"Answer!" you demand, tears spilling like a broke dam.

"I was just closing the windows. Or do you want to fuel the talk, huh? Give the hungry hoard more to bite?" Pedro then stands to hold your gaze, and you hate that you can't place his emotions. Anxiety corrodes your brain: was this really the beginning of the end?

"Do I?" you dare to speak up, and even if its loud, it comes out drowned, the exhaustion from the emotional turmoil taking its toll on you. "Do I deserve it?"

"No, you don't, carajo!" Pedro bursts. "You don't deserve any of that, which is why I didn't want you looking at those things!"

He sighs, realizing the anger is misdirected.

"I'm sorry"

Your broken wails are the only thing to be heard. He hates himself for being a part of it, even if not the biggest.

"No, I'm sorry for being so stupid" you sob. "I-I just wanted for people to be as happy for us as I am with you"

"Come here" but he's the one cutting the space to embrace you.

His scent calms a part of you, body still rocking with violent shakes.

"You're not stupid. Nor ugly, or any of those things people are calling you. No, mi amor. You're beautiful, smart and talent. They fail to realize I'm the lucky one. So please, don't be hard on yourself, yeah? I can't bear to see it. Less if I know it's not true. You didn't ask for it; you don't deserve all that bullshit"

He presses a kiss to your temple, arms that hug you tighter holding you close close up to the point his heartbeat melts within your own.

I won't let you go. You won't fall as long as I got you.

"We'll get through this, yeah? Think of the future, and what's to come. It's hard, that I know, but let us enjoy the moment. Life is too precious to waste it away" he brushes stray tears with his thumb, softly and full of love that words aren't enough to express. "I'm here" the out loud, "and I'm not going anywhere. That's a promise"

Later that day, Pedro posts a carrousel of unseens, even one of your wedding (a video of your first dance), telling people to leave you alone. That he loves you, and that no malicious news, fans or comments will ever change that―suck it energy laced within his rageful statement.

Safe to say, in the next weeks, hate is barely a small voice whispering in the back of your neck, one that hushes down with each kiss and/or words uttered by your one and only devoted husband.

mandoshoney: y/n protection squad pull up, we ride at dawn starlightt180: unhing3dprincess WHERE ARE U??? PTWT IS IN SHAMBLES AND NEEDS U MY SHAYLAAAAAAAAAA elysyannemimi: i feel like a kid scolded by their dad. pedro has achieved the ultimate daddy status bobgirlll: is no one going to talk about how rageful/protective pedro sounded in that story????? NEED MORE FERAL PEDRO RN GRRrrrr ps. photos so cute, wish that was me lol pyramiidsf: i hope y/n is okay, ppl can be so cruel sometimes but at least she's got pedro on her side <3 he's such a perfect man :,)

It had been days since your fight.

In an sweet attempt to cheer you up, Pedro had taken you out for dinner to a fancy restaurant you can't remember the name of. If they'll snap pictures of my wife without my permission, I might as well show you off. So, per his petition, you had wore a little black dress that hugged every curve of your body perfectly and pushed your tits to the top. Stunning, he had growled, and it had been hard to push him off as he devoured your mouth in your house's doorstep.

"Let's give them talk" you had agreed.

So now you sat at the restaurant, Pedro filling your cup of wine for the third time in a row, talking about all and nothing: about politics, the weather, your siblings, Louis the cat, upcoming gigs around your home you wanted to go to, how support had risen and the hate had dwindled, the numerous calls of job offers and interviews to keep on milking your relationship... life had never been more hectic.

"You know, maybe the dress was a bad idea" he takes a bite of his meat, tone nonchalant.

"Yeah?" you challenge, cheeks flushed with alcohol, "why's that? I thought I had to look good. What changed your mind?"

"Turns out" he looks at you, gaze piercing through your body, brown warm eyes darkening, "I figured something"

You know your husband. It's still fresh in your mind the first day you took a notice of it: jaw clenching, gaze fixated at nothing and white fists balled up on to the sides, arms swinging while fingers itched. A vein on his forehead would pop, and brows would melt together in a furrow. It happened when you got recognized by a fan, on your early days, and he had taken a picture of you, uploading it to social media. Dating Pedro had been going on for little to five months, and the way this guy hugged you from behind, hand resting above your ass, had made your then-boyfriend see red. His posture stiffened, demeanor changed and face adquired all the characteristics above. There was only one correct answer: Pedro was jealous, so fucking jealous.

So here he is now, jealous to the bone, alcohol increasing the rage.

"And that is?" you push his buttons, something you normally wouldn't do, but you're drunk and God, so sex-starved. His possesive side was always hot, yet now? It had a layer of allure it didn't have before, the idea of calming him down long lost.

"You know what it is" he answers, but you tilt your head to the side, acting confused. Pedro growls, clenching the glass a bit too tight; you fear it'll break.

"No, I don't" you serve more wine in your glass, savouring the liquid. Some spills into your mouth, and you lick it while not breaking eye contact. "Enlighten me"

"Turns out" the words come out strained, a whirlwind of emotions burning in the tip of his tongue, "that I wanted people to look at my wife, but I looked their looks and realized I don't like how they look at her"

He rambles the words out, speech pattern slurred and ideas clashing into one another, clearly drunk.

"I see" you draw out, demeanor calm, but your panties have started to get wet.

"No" he hits the table, making your eyes go wide and people turn to your table. You should be embarrased, but you're only aroused. "You don't see what I see. And I hate it, I fucking hate it" he seethes, words spit out over your unfinished meal.

"Dessert?" the waiter appears from seemingly nowhere, menu on hand.

Pedro doesn't even look when he answers, "Sure. Bring your best"

"The chef's suggestion is Soufflé, a classic dessert from his country"

"That'll do" Pedro looks at you, but his brain seems to be somewhere else. Like he's thinking. "How long will it take?"

The waiter ponders the answer, yet doesn't think any weird of it.

"About twenty to thirty minutes. Would that be alright? Or would you prefer to switch to one of our quick-fixes? They're as delicious as our fresh and-"

"No" your husband interrupts, eyes shinning with something akin to dangerous. "We'll take the soufflé. Just want my wife to eat the very best"

The waiter smiles. "Sure, will be back in a few. More wine?"

Pedro stops the action, removing the bottle's neck from pouring more red liquid in your glass.

"Won't be needed"

They excuse themselves, leaving both of you alone. The restaurant bubbles with chat and instrumental music from a band playing on a corner, but all you hear is his heavy breathing and your heart.

"I wanted more wine" you pout, not even knowing why you said it.

He smiles devilishly. "I'll give you something better than that"

How does it happen, you have no idea, but then Pedro gets up with a brash move, chair making a sound that draws attention. He smirks, his auburn reflecting on the candle glowing in the center with a light that's menacing.

"I'm going to the bathroom" an announcement that feels like a threat that runs through the newfound tension; it could be cut with even a butterknife.

You sit there in silence, too stunned to speak. Your phone chimes in what feels like an hour (it's been a few minutes, probably three). You open the notification, a single text from Pedro.

I'm waiting.

So this was his plan all along, huh? Maybe he's gotten bored of sex on a bed and room like normal couples, because ever since that time you sucked his dick in his trailer, Pedro has shown an appetite for public sex. Well, more like just shown but never done. Guess that changes as of tonight.

I'm coming.

Truth is, after the reveal and fight, you hadn't had sex since that time before the London premiere. Press tour hadn't finished, and the movie was still playing in theathers, but it feels much longer the time you had gone without having his dick rearranging your insides. That changes as of tonight.

You practically leap out of your sit, rushing to the restroom, which is too fancy for your liking. You're unsure how to proceed, and it should be because you realized how stupid and reckless this is, but it's more because you don't know which door Pedro is behind: men or women.

You knock softly on the ladies room first. "I'm here" you speak, voice small.

After a few seconds, a muffled voice from behind replies: "Me too"

You giggle as he pulls you inside, mouth devouring yours in a hot kiss.

"The lock!" you squeal, yet Pedro is busy buring his face between your breasts, pulling the dress down until he's nipping at the skin before licking the spot with his tongue. Your back is pressed against the tiled white wall, cold meeting your now heating skin.

"Mmm, missed this" he mumbles in a drunken state. "Needed my girls so bad"

His words elicit a moan out of you, a way to comunicate that your body too had been aching for this.

"Please, Pedro-" you whimper, trying to get rid of the pretty dress. He doesn't say it, but his movements command for power, big hands dragging your dress down until the black cloth falls to the floor in a sound filled with grace, it feels merciful.

"Black panties? But I thought I was a man with a plan" he groans, calloused digits ghosting over the wet patch in the middle. He smells your arousal off his fingers, and this is so nasty but you're so into it.

"Two can play" is all you answer, eager fingers unbuckling his belt as you unbutton the formal pants and pull them down to his knees, so with his underwear.

"Sure thing" he chuckles darkly. "Just look at you, baby. So loud, but you gotta be quiet. ¿Quieres que alguien entre y te vea así? Fucking slut, begging for my cock" (do you want someone to come in and see you like this?)

He's always been sweet-talking you through sex, and you know he doesn't mean it aside from being lewd words, but you also didn't know you could be aroused by it. Change is welcome, to say the least.

His hard dick is immediately stroking at the apex of your thighs, like he's got no time to loose, kissing you roughly like he hasn't eat and your mouth is his meal.

"Twenty minutes" he grumbles, groaning.

"Or thirty" you add, whining when his cock brushes dangerously close to your dripping folds.

"Can't believe you're this wet already" he chuckles, but it sounds more like a breathy sigh, lost in the inside of your mouth.

"I've been wet since before we left the house and you kissed me"

"And I kissed you" he adds. "No sé ni por qué putas te traje si sólo quería quedarme en casa y comerte" (i don't know why the fuck i took you out if all i wanted was to stay at home and eat you out)

You moan at his dirty mouth, clicking your tongue as a way to say so.

"You dirty old man-" it dies in your throat when he glides inside your folds with ease, a finger slipping in, then two, as he curls them. Your head rolls back, landing against the door with a hollow thud.

"Dirty? But you enjoy this, don't you?" his fingers buried up your hilt. Your eyelids flutter, whimpering drowned by your lips, bitten so deep you think you start to taste blood. "Bad news, mami. You're as dirty as me"

You choke in your words. "No-"

"No what?" Pedro mocks, sliding his digits out of you and shoving them inside his mouth, sucking on them while looking at you. You whine at the display and loss of them, knowing he's tauting you for fun. "Don't tell me you don't want someone to come in here and see you acting like a dirty slut? To see you almost coming here and now with just two of my fingers"

"Fine. What if I want to, huh? Just give me your damn cock already and quit teasing"

Words were lewd, but Pedro smiles with adoration.

"That's my girl"

His length springing free to slap against his now smooth stomach, your mouth drooling.

"Sit"

He glares back, "in the toilet?"

"Well, do you happen to see a couch or bed?" you quip. "That's right: you were the one who chose the bathroom, desperate old man. So needy, aren't you?"

You see your husband turning around, ashamed, and you laugh. "I didn't think it through" and you avoid to add a that's quite obvious snarky type of reply.

"Want me as much as I do?" Pedro doesn't protest anymore, grunting some spanish curses before sitting on the cold surface. "Good. Then comply"

You swing a leg over his lap, not afraid if the thing breaks, dragging your wet folds against his cock. He moans, gripping your thighs hard, biting at your lower lip to hide a growl that seems to erupt from deep within his chest.

"Gonna ride you, baby. Is that okay?" you take the lead, and Pedro gets frustrated that you're taking up a plan that was originally his. Despite such, he just finds himself nodding wordlessly like a fool.

You line up, desperate to have him inside of you. But you go slowly down, taking his size, maybe because you're drunk or because you'd never fucked in a bathroom before. Because, really, how will you even try to explain your PR team a broken bathroom?

You gasp as he bottoms out, struggling to catch your breath with the relentless push. His strong arm cages your waist, as he moans in your ear, bodies going up and down in sync. His slides are smooth across his length, helping you find your pace.

"Fuck" you whimper, legs starting to shake. "I think I-"

"I know" he interrupts you, a quick kiss to your earlobe. "It's okay; I've got you, linda"

He thrusts upwards, toilet creaking as Pedro keeps you in place.

You bury your teeth into his shoulder to muffle your moans, skin slapping against skin loudly, his movements becoming faster. The pressure keeps on adding, until the tightness on your walls is too much, and you're collapsing over his chest, folds spasming as he empties his load inside of you, seed deep in your walls, dripping down your legs.

"Oh, shit" you gasp, "Pedro!"

"Perdón!" he shouts, then covers his mouth. "Mierda, no quise ser tan ruidoso. Ay, carajo. Didn't want to spill all over you-" (sorry! didn't mean to be so loud. oh, fuck)

"There's a sink" you start, "and toilet paper. We'll manage"

"Right" he looks at his watch, "we got about ten minutes"

You smile, cheek resting against the warm skin of his neck. "If the chef took the whole thirty"

"There's only one way to find out" he gasps for air. "Pero, ¿no estás llena? Still up for dessert?" his big hand finds it's way to your tummy, you still contentedly stuffed full of him. It lingers, and when you look into his eyes, he averts his gaze, ashamed of whatever he thought. (but, aren't you full?)

"After this, I need some sugar to make it home" your eyelids drop. "I'm starving"

He presses a loud kiss to your head, "that's my girl"

"Yours" you pull back to rest your forehead against his. "Just yours"

He jolts forward, capturing your mouth in a hot kiss, and you smile into it.

"Good. Now, I'll give my good girl what she deserves" he takes some toilet paper to clean his spilling load out of you, kisses running from your face to neck. Then, gently so, lets you dress in again, exiting the bathroom first to give you some cleaning up space. When you come back to your table, the Soufflé is there.

"Eat" he commands, voice thick and rough. You smirk, giving it a bite as you look into his eyes: hair disheveled, puffy lips and droopy eyes. The bite mark seems to shine, or maybe you need to lay down for a while. "Y no mires atrás, ¿sí? We got ourselves a crowd" (don't look back, yeah?)

That night, you upload a story with a picture of the dessert with a caption that reads: best meal I've ever had. The context is lost until news of your bathroom affairs hit headlines next morning, but you don't notice: your phone happens to be dead, and you're too busy getting railed in what could count as round two to charge it.

pompeiianbollockr: hello just woke up and saw the pictures WTF TMZ??? did they really do #that 😭 bring back public shaming unhing3dprincess: i bet my grandma they fucked in that fancy ass restroom ㅤㅤmostannoyingbillioner: unhing3dprincess QUEEN U ARE BACK 😭 BETTING UR GRANDMA AGAIN? OH IKTR WE WERE LOOSING THE ANCIENT TEXTS poppysplayground: ohhhhh they're so nasty (do u want a third) ㅤㅤann-gell: poppysplayground fr like INVITEN

The interview for Entertainment Weekly's behind the cover for Gladiator II was supposed to just include Paul and Pedro, but taking advantage of the free publicity and buzz your announcement made, they added you. Especially after the news about your restroom affair had hit, courtesy of TMZ; the rumor wasn't taken into account in the beginning, but now added gasoline to the gossip fire. Just what the movie needed: free promo.

You're sat in the middle of the two men, dressed in white as well, to match their attires with a flowy dress that loosely resembles that of Rome's. Then, Paul begins to speak.

"I saw the film for the first time when I was about 13 with my dad" he talks about the original movie.

"I saw it in the movie theater when it came out" you imagine a young Pedro lined up to see Russell Crowe's magnetic performance and let out a small smile. "I saw it twice, because of how emotional the movie was. Obviously it's incredibly visceral, and epic and the kind of movie you rarely get to see made, uh, these days"

You look at him, elbow resting on the arm chair as your body is all turned to his side. Truth is, you love listening to him, especially when he seems so invested, love for the subject rooted in each word.

Pedrito, you'd affectionally call. Ésto es una conversación, no un monólogo. And he'd blush embarrased, only for you to laugh it off, saying you would turn mute if that meant for him to continue speaking. (this is a conversation, not a monologue)

"It had an impact emotionally. I remember that, I guess, sadistically I was drawn to a second time go back again because, weirdly, it was very comforting. I remember it perfectly came out in year 2000. Right?" he asks, and Paul and you agree with a yeah. "I can remember what theater I was in and everything-"

"What theater was it?" Paul interrupts his passionate talking.

Pedro stops, "It, uh-" he rambles, before you all laugh.

"What about you, y/n? Were you even born?" Paul jokes, making you roll your eyes at his antics and deliberate desire to keep nagging you like some older annoying brother.

"I was like, born a year after you, Paul. But I didn't watch the movie until I was fifteen" you feel the gaze of both men fall upon you. "The first Ridley Scott movie I watched was Thelma and Louise, as you all know. Then my dad insisted I should watch it, and finally, at fifteen, when I had given up on my dreams to go on one last epic trip to the Grand Canyon, he played it. My eyes, they were, like, glued to the screen. I couldn't stop thinking about it for a while" you leave a small lingering touch on Pedro's arm, "just like he said: epic and emotional. Also, I had a huge fat crush in Joaquin Phoenix that lasted until I was twenty"

"That was like, seven years ago!" Pedro yells, making Paul snorts. "I feel deceived"

"Qué dramático. We're both married, you big baby!" you laugh, then make a joke before the next conversation starts: "You wouldn't think he plays an epic Roman General, would you?" (how dramatic)

They film some shots of you and the boys before moving to the next talk.

"I was doing a play in London at the time. I'd met with Doug and Lucy who are the producers of the film in LA, and then a zoom was set up and I spoke to Ridley for about 5 minutes about what Gladiator was going to be about. And then we spoke for the next 25 minutes about like, gaic football and dogs, and then I thought we'd do like camera tests and- but no, he just-" he shrugs. "I found out about two weeks later"

Now it's Pedro's turn.

"I knew that the project existed. I knew that Paul was doing it. I think it started with an actual like meeting with Ridley to go and sit down with him and I, whether or not the movie was going to happen for me or not, I was like I'm going to go meet Ridley Scott" he jokes, making you both chuckle. "It wasn't even about getting the job, it was like I'm going to go and sit down maybe five minutes, ten, twenty, as many minutes as I can"

"It was in LA" you speak up, "in his offices"

"Yeah, and thankfully he was willing to talk about all the things I wanted to know about, in terms of other movies, and that's what it really turned into"

"He's a wonderful Storyteller" Mescal compliments. "You could sit down with Ridley for-"

Pedro makes a joke, speaking over him. "Give me another one, give me another one-"

You still kind of hate the guy after his supposed comments on your husband's weight, but won't talk bad about a man who gave you work and your biggest role to the date yet, so you explain how it happened to you.

"I wasn't even planned to appear on the movie. As a matter of fact, my character was squeezed in last minute. Ridley is, just as they said, indeed, a storyteller" you smile. "The truth is, I worked with Cuba, his granddaughter, on a proyect together, a photography one. I was in London at the time, auditioning for a movie, when we met"

"London?" Paul asks.

"Yes" you laugh, ashamed. "I traveled to London with some of my savings, because you know what they say about not doing and then regretting. But I do regret it; I cried for my money to be back!"

"You didn't get the part" Pedro adds, barely containing a snicker.

"I didn't" you sigh, "Cuba saw me sitting alone on a café, eyes red with tears of failure and talked me into capturing such vulnerable moment. She didn't know me but made my day better, and she took some of the most beautiful pictures I've seen of myself. So, in a way, I won. I mean, she's the reason I got the role: my name came up on a phone call with Scott, as I had already made a name for myself, and showed him the pictures. He got in contact with my agent and I got the role after auditioning. Call that friendship nepotism"

"Didn't Pedro tell you about it? I find it funny that he was in the movie and didn't get you in" Paul comments, curiously.

"We were supposed to remain a secret, and the sudden connection when we had barely interacted according to the public, would've been weird. So no, Pedro rubbed his role on my face and then I came home with the new script as he received his. We both won our roles separately, and until we got it both, we realized just what it would mean"

"But now we're here" Pedro speaks fondly, taking your hand. "Rome conquers it all"

You can only hold his and stare back lovingly.

"Oh" the Irish man feigns disgust, "don't get all lovey dovey on me!"

The topic changes again, as Paul speaks.

"We meet early in the film, and this is again kind of Ridley's genius. He shoots it in a way that it feels plausible, but in like- the real action of that there's no way-"

They start talking ovwe each other excitedly about the process of filmaking, Pedro listing all the settings were the epic action takes place.

"We lock eyes" Pedro jests, "we lock eyes"

"All right" Paul plays along. "Three, two, one"

"i'm right here" you say, pushing your body to the front. "You got me third wheeling in my own marriage"

Paul laughs, breaking contact.

"Time for you to get a taste of your own medicine. You've made the rest of this press tour unbearable!" he protests, but his tone is devoid of complain.

"Marcus Acacius represents like-" Mescal then speaks about your husband's character, "he's a Roman general"

"No, he is the general of Rome" you correct, smirking.

"Be careful, princess. Don't let the emperor see you all over his General" the blue-eyed man next to you mocks, and you roll your eyes again.

"Will you ever let me live?"

Paul then talks about his character. "I'm like a lieutenant in the numidian Army. I kind of see Acacius as this, he- he represents everything that I hate about, uh, the Roman Empire"

"Well, the Roman Empire is expanding and expanding" Pedro takes the word, "and invading Numidia just to gain more and more power, and we realize that there really is kind of no ceiling to the lust of that power"

"And that's to do with the Emperors, right? Like, played by Joe and Fred who are wonderful" Paul adds, complimenting both actors in the process. "And let's not forget our Empress too"

You make a face at that, feeling in the need to defend your character.

"Empress Alba is tragedy. I think she embodies well the feelings of helpnessless all women felt during that time. She's an object, another shiny possesion subjected to her husband's amusement, so she drowns in all pleasure available to forget her existence. Lucius hates her because he sees all the filth of Rome in her, like, this whole debauchery and squandering while the people beg for scraps. But it's a pattern seen across history, isn't it?" you pause. "I think it's interesting to compare her to Lucilla, because she's loved by the people, seen as human- despite being noble. It's sad because it's until too late that Lucius realizes she's a victim of the system he hates"

Pedro smiles at your little intervention, loving the way you explain a character you'd play so graciously. One of your favorite movies is Marie Antoinette, by Sofia Coppola, so probably it felt personal to you in some level. God, hadn't you made him watch it at least ten times?

"It unravels through the film that I've kind of miscalculated who I think Acacius is, just as with Alba" Paul comments.

"His character misunderstands my character just like Paul misunderstands us" Pedro quips, making both of you laugh.

"Then it kind of culminates in a big fight that we have in the-"

"Doesn't it always?" you add. "Wouldn't be an epic without it"

"Do you want to talk about it?" Paul dares, jokingly.

"No we're not talking about it" he cuts him off.

"Who's the better fighter'" Paul asks after some silence. Pedro dares him with a go on.

"I would say I'm better the better share. What you think?"

"I would say Lucius is the better fighter"

"Lucius is the better fighter" Pedro repeats slowly, incredulous. "Do you want us to fight? Lucius is a better fighter than the general of Rome, who survived decades and conquered" Paul tries to defend himself but Pedro doesn't let him. "I fight four men before I get you, and I call it off!"

"Yeah, but I think if you hadn't called it off -"

"You don't think I would have do some sort of mature aged learning-"

They end up discussing a bit more until you clear your throat.

"Why don't you ask for a third party to break your tie?" and you point towards yourself, mouthing a cute me with your painted pink lips.

"No!" Paul immediatly opposes, "It would be biased, silence her!"

"Have you seen Acacius' arms?" you gauge Pedro's arms, biceps flexing under the white attire. "It definitely isn't biased, at all"

The conversation carries on after some more shots. In some, you pose seriously, but in between such, you laugh along with them, Pedro even hugging you and Paul from behind in one of both. No kisses yet, but you know fans will be rabid just with the lingering touches and flirty undertones in your interactions.

"We began together in Morocco, and I think seeing that set and the scale of the production so quickly, desensitized me to the scale of the of what- Malta was in the Coliseum, and Ridley moves at such a pace, which I actually think really helped me because you don't have time to kind of sit there and and kind of bask in the wonder of it" Paul talks. "Because you're shooting three or four scenes, build your expectations of how to meet the size of, it or anything 'cuz 'cause it's impossible" Paul looks at Pedro and asks: "and I think Ridley; did I tell you what Ridley said first day of shooting to me? He came out to the tent while they were dressing the set, thousands of extras, everything fire, camels and he comes in, and he's- he's smoking a cigar, and we're all stood around and he's like Are you nervous? and we're all like No and he slaps me on the back and goes Your nerves are no good to me, before we filmed anything. But I think it was like- it's funny, but it's this idea that this is your playground, and you have to kind of step into it and own it. So, I-I don't actually really remember my first walking into the Coliseum, 'cause I feel like I lived in the Coliseum for about three or four weeks"

"You lived in the Coliseum of your mind" Pedro quips, making Paul laugh.

"I do remember, you know, when I first walked into the Coliseum, you know. It- it gave me chills. Like, literally chills. Look! I still get the goosebumps" you point your arm. "Honestly, all of it felt just too real, and I couldn't help but for a moment, think I actually was in Rome- that I belonged to nobility"

Pedro takes your hand and kisses it gently. "That's because you do, princesa"

"One of the things that I have never experienced on a movie before, is that there was so little left to the imagination" Pedro expresses. "Me and the rest of the ensemble are together in the emperor's box, and there's this enormous battle that's taking place, and Ridley composed all of the off camera for us in the emperor's box, with Paul leaping from one ship to another taking two men down what would you call that?"

"A cloth line flying" Paul answers.

"Clothes line?" you try.

"A flying- a flying clothes line" Pedro decides, carrying on "just so that we could know what we were looking at. I couldn't f*****g believe it"

"That's true" you remark. "The result goes so hard- I mean, it looks amazing" you sheepily laugh. "The action, the violence, the epic... it all shines through. It just- it makes sense"

The conversation shifts again.

"The legacy of the first film is so profound, and has such a strong place in so many people's, like, hearts and minds, it's inescapable, but I was looking at it- and I was like" Paul shares. "The screenplay does a lot of that work for you in terms of like, the rubbing the dirt between the hands. the kind of DNA and the genetics that Lucius inherits. I remember reading the script and there's like, a moment in the script where it's Lucius puts on the breastplate and it's written like Lucius now becomes Maximus"

"But Lucius, despite being a son, is also a man" you counter. "He isn't Maximus"

Paul agrees.

"I kind of tried to park that to one side, because ultimately, where Lucius is coming from at the start of the film, he has a very different journey than Maximus does, and I was hoping that whatever DNA- and even just the physical gestures, was going to be one part of- a kind of small part of the performance" he explains. "What I tried to do is figure out exactly who Lucius was and where those differences lay between Lucius and Maximus"

"One of the things that I loved most about my character is that he's introduced in the beginning of the movie, in this very epic battle sequence, that I think in its own way homages the first film" Pedro shares. "But even better, because we follow him back to Rome and discover his direct connection to one of the only characters that is living and with us from the first movie, and I loved being a a kind of thread, an invitation, into what we know from the first movie by being Connie Nielsen's man"

Paul looks at you silently, before poking your side: "Someone is real quiet with that comment"

You narrow your eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about"

"I am Connie Nielsen's man as Marcus Acacius, but as Pedro Pascal, I'm all y/n's"

Your face goes red at how easily you are to be understood, your husband answering just what you wanted to listen.

"Ha! Look at your face, I was right!" Paul ridiculises you.

But after such an embarrasing moment, he shifts the conversation again.

"There's a moment where Pedro has this, uh- it's so clever from a- from an acting standpoint, but also in the in the script like, you see this brutalizing Force come into Numidia, and there's this section where there's the burning of the bodies, and that it's one of my favorite shots in the film" Paul muses. "It's this closeup on Pedro, when he says Vae Victis to the conquered, and you feel like it's a really difficult thing to communicate in one line, that you see: Oh, this General is, kind of wearing this responsibility with great difficulty and shame"

"I wasn't doing that at all" your husband deadpans. You stiffle a giggle.

"You were very good in it" Paul argues back with a smile.

"That wasn't what I was playing" he insists, serious but Paul asks What were you playing? and you all laugh.

"If I had a favorite scene, I'd say it'd be naval fight" you mention. "The colliseum is filled with water, and it's this- it feels like a thing that has never been done before, and with the people cheering and the buzz, and the announcement and echo of the drumming, it's as if you were there, in the crowd. The tension is palpable, the violence is thrown at your face but the scariest one, is the one that lies underneath. Uh, Lucius character tries to attack the General while we, you know, the royals and especial guests, are sitting at our box, and he gets so close, it serves, I think the bottom climbing the ladder to bite the ankles of the top. Obviously, that before we know who Lucius actually is, but I think it's kind of cool"

The interview is ending, the last of your twelve-minute conversation being filmed now.

"I am really excited for everyone to see Paul" Pedro beams, making the younger one laugh. "I'm sorry but it has to be said. You are sensational in the movie" then adds, "and pretty easy on the eyes"

"Everyone in this movie is easy in the eyes" you quip, looking at your side. Pedro coughs a bit before speaking again, even if a faint blush is coating his cheeks.

"-And he worked so hard, and I got to see that happen like, in front of me, and on the day and just lead with Ridley, this enormous crew and this enormous cast... To get to see that, on the big screen, is really exciting and I think people are going to- they're going to love it"

"That's very kind" you exclaim softly with a smile, then add. "I'm sure of it, especially if you were a fan of the first. Both are very interwined, although each film is its own thing" you comment.

"For a lot of us, the actors, we haven't worked on a film on that scale" you violently shake your head "and I think, there's a little bit of trauma bonding that went on with, kind of having to- kind of feel like, total impostor syndrome within it all. But to see your friends operate at that level on a film of that scale, doing like incredible work. I think, across the board, I haven't seen a film on this scale for a long long time rhat's rooted it has the scale and the performances, and I personally think it's one of Ridley's greatest pieces of work"

senhoritamayblog: y/n was SO REAL holding pedro's arm and talking abt how he'd beat paul bc he's beefy ME WHEN moltisantiii: you know what i think ridley's greatest piece of work is? giving us this trio youlooklike-clarabow: y/n is truly a princess 🥹 i don't know if i want to be y/n to be with pedro or pedro to be with y/n ㅤㅤann-gell: youlooklike-clarabow well, she's the people's princess after all!

You haven't even left the room when Pedro is all over you, kissing your neck on that sweet spot of yours that elates a little breathy whine. Doesn't he know you well?

"What are you doing?" you manage to squeak out as his needy big hands grope your body, flesh soft under the flowy white dress. He grunts when he catches your panties, embarrasingly wet already at just a few sloppy kisses and eager touches.

"What do you think?" he whispers against your ear as you both try to walk away from where voices can be heard, and then Pedro is guiding you to a room, closing the door behind him. If he was able to walk to the room while kissing you, he must've seen it in a passing. Had your husband plan this all along? Greedy needy old man.

"What I think, baby, is you're forgetting something" you push him off, giggling. He makes a little pout, making it hard to keep your ground. "Now that everyone knows we're married and we suddenly both go misteriously missing at the same time, they'll just put two and two together. I mean, does it really take a smart person to figure it out?"

Pedro doesn't back down, still caging your frame against the locked door.

"So?" his annoyed and tense voice only makes you laugh more. That turned on was he? Pedro seems annoyed at your fit of laughter, his pants tight.

"What do you mean so? We almost got caught by Paul last time!" you chuckle amused. "And, are you seriously going to pretend TMZ didn't air our bussiness just about last week?"

"Well, maybe you should've thought about it before" he goes back at the task of attacking your mouth, words spewing in between hungry kisses. You mouth a little taunting innocent looking Before what? and then Pedro is talking while his gaze is glued to yours, tightening his arms around you, and the answer is just about that. "You should've thought about it before getting all flirty with me, grabbing my arm in front of the camera like the naughty girl you are. So fucking needy you can't hide it for a few hours, can't even go through an interview without touching me, looking at me, being possesive at a fictional marriage even" your face burns hot with embarrasment at that. Oh, was he being nasty on purpose? Why bring that up? "Haven't I taught you manners?"

It's hard to force yourself to hold his gaze while standing still. Taunting. Defiant.

"José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal" you chastise, "do you want people to know we are raw dogging in the dressing room? That's the manners you so badly talk about"

His face goes red, his demostrations stopping for a bit as he studies your now serious face.

"Wait, do you want to raw dog in the dressing room?" he gasps at the boldness in your words, which, to be fair, is kind of exaggerated, as you both have said worst stuff before. "That's not what I had in mind"

"That's not?" you arch an eyebrow. "Oh, no. Absolutely not. You can't just kiss my neck greedily and touch my body eagerly like a goddamn starved horny idiot, and then expect me to not act up on it, you old man"

There's silence before he speaks up again. "Y/n, you talked about manners"

You take a deep breath in, making sure the door is actually locked.

"Well, fuck them manners"

You capture his lips on a hungry kiss, same kind of force you had made fun of him, just minutes ago. He's pushing his tongue inside of you, as his hands move up to your shoulders and back down to your waist. You rub yourself against him, looking for some kind of friction, and his big calloused hands pulls your waist closer in an attempt to do the same.

"Manners maketh man" he's reciting, and such stupid proverb and line from one of his old works shouldn't turn you this much. Pedro lifts up the dress until your body is devoid of the cotton, murmuring about how unfair it was for you to taunt him with translucent cloth, tender flesh hiding under the white. So hard to focus on interviews, mami, when you're close to me or something like that, as you're too lost in the fire. No bra? Fuck, baby. Do you want to kill me?

"Sofa" you command, eyes darting to the furniture so you can show him where. "Now"

You take off your panties in a go, revealing the slick that's just a few seconds from running down your legs.

"I see, my legs won't be the only thing drooling" you mock his agape mouth. He takes off the blazer with shaking hands, sitting as you get on top of him. Pedro kisses his way down your neck, sucking on the skin. How will you get out of here without comfirming suspicions? Surely, there must be something inside here that could be of help.

"Well, I've wanted to do this for a while" he mumbles against the now red patches of before honey-ed skin. Again? you think.

"Have me or fuck again in public?" you ask out loud, and even if you're laughing, there's a layer of fondness in your voice. "I'm starting to wonder if you have an exhibition kink, papi"

He breathes a little no before biting right above your collarbones, his tongue then releaving the pain with a wet slick move over the flesh as you let out a whine.

"Busy schedule, mami. A husband's gotta find a way to make time for his pretty wife, even if it means fucking her in the goddamn dressing room" he says into your ear. Pedro had done more interviews than you, and between that and filming for his other projects, he's right. "So what if they find out? Need them to know who you belong to. I'm just a devoted husband, will you punish me for that?"

You caress his face, pristine hair now disheveled, the gel succumbing to the heat and sweat trapped in the room.

"Look at you, naughty boy. El burro hablando de orejas" you laugh, "but of course I won't. Need you too so bad" (look who's talking)

His finger wanders down to your pussy, big hand roaming around the area. His middle and ring finger run over it, the golden band starting to shine with your arousal. Fuck, that just made you wetter.

"Shit, baby. You're so eager... wasn't lying when you talked before"

"Needed you since you kissed me today, when you woke up" your teeth grit at his lingering digits. "Your dick rubbed against my bare thigh, fucking hard"

Truth is, you're always horny; being married to Pedro Pascal does that to you. But mornings? Waking up to that handsome face and girthy dick? You really be testing yourself sometimes.

"Jesus, mami" he whistles. "So fucking dirty, thinking about me all the interview because my morning wood grazed your skin, you dirty naughty girl"

Pedro finally slides his fingers inside of you, making you squirm under his gaze as your back archs. "So fucking beautiful, can't believe you're all mine" he moans and you squeeze his shoulders, nails digging and bruising his skin under the shirt that sticks to his skin, body heating up like a furnace.

"Please, Pedro" you plead, lip biting your under to supress a whimper. "Please curl your fingers, need to have you- feel you inside. Fuck-"

Your words cut off as he moves his fingers with learned ease, his thumb rubbing your clit as a treat.

"Mmm" you murmur with pleasure, back arched again, your tits too dangerously close to his face. Without much thought, he licks your nipple and then devours the whole breast with his mouth. All while looking at you, this absolute horndog. Your nails dig in deeper as you pronounce his name in a shaky exhale. Wanting more. Begging for more.

"Mmm? That's right" his palm on your waist squeezes lightly, more pressure on his grip. "Can't speak 'cause I'm making you feel so good, huh?"

You don't answer, instead throwing your head back, nails digging deep to the point he winces, making a face by the pain. You mouth an apology, but then he licks your nipple again, and teeth move to your nibble your earlobe―you're not sorry anymore.

"S-stop" you choke out, body shivering.

"What? Can't take what you asked for? No muerdas más de lo que puedes masticar, niña mala. Bad girl" (don't bite off more than you can chew, bad girl)

His lewd words elicit another moan out of you.

"I-I can. In fact, I want- no, need more. I don't want to cum on your fingers" you whisper in his ear, hot breath probably why he shivers. "Pull down your pants, pretty boy, because I want to cum on your dick"

"Fuck, mami. What a dirty mouth" he moans.

Eager hands try to lower his pants as your fiddle with the same feel, the borrowed wardrobe struggling to get off in the current position. His underwear goes next, and you squirm as he aligns his tip with your dripping entrance.

You moan and he grunts, as his dick enters your tight folds, sounds clashing onto each other as so do your bodies, fitting perfectly. His hands travel from your waist to ass, his head against the back of the sofa, your hands that were before on his shoulders now on his chest.

"Such a pretty view you're giving me, wifey" he tries to laugh, but the sound comes out strained along each powerful stride of his cock that buries inside of you, each bouncing harder, his hands pathethically running over your ass, back, hips, and legs, as his eyes devour the way your tits jiggle with each thrust, tongue burning with desire to suck on the skin again. "So beautiful, and all mine. Only mine. Mía"

His words drip with devotion and wordship; all the love in the world. Pedro calls you beautiful, goddess, and a string of spanish words crossed with adoration. Mami. Linda. Princesa. Diosa. Hermosa. It has your orgasm looming over, head spinning and pussy stretched, walls tightening.

"I'm close" you whisper, riding him with soft-paced movements as his turn sloppy.

You see stars, walls almost kicking his dick out as you coat it in your slick, arousal dripping down until it's coated his balls and smeared the white attire. Fuck. Now Pedro's moving his waist, hunting for his own orgasm.

"Me too" he breathes out, "stay with me"

His hands travel sloppily to your waist, lazily holding you still with his calloused digits.

"Quick, baby" you breath out, "I'm sensitive"

"I'm almost there. Just hold on a little longer" then a whine before shakily pleading. "Please, please, just wait for me"

You move your hips slowly, aroused by his needy pleads, robbing a moan out of him. "Cute" you praise, making his cheeks redden with sweat and blush.

He is cute: hair messed up, mouth red and puffy, and brown puppy eyes.

"I love you so much" Pedro let's out, and it sounds like a confession, despite being married for so long.

"I know, baby, I know" you reach for his face, removing some sweat beads from his forehead, and he leans on the touch, closing his eyes as another gutural growl erupts from his chest. "I love you too"

You keep on riding until you feel his dick twitch inside of your walls.

"We need to stop doing this" you pant out.

"Too late for that, bonita. At least no one found out this time" Pedro laughs. "But you like the talk, don't you? Gonna give 'em something to talk about" he pants, "will fill you up so good you won't be able to walk without my seed spilling from you" sweat beads from your face fall onto his. He obscenely licks the salty drops. "Te voy a dar tantos hijos, que no cabrán en la casa. That way they will know you're mine" (will give you so many kids, they won't fit in the house)

You moan loufly, folds now coated on thick ropes of hot cum, as his movements come to a stop, slowing down until all that can be heard is your uneven breaths trying to recover.

And on cue, there's a knock at the door. Shit. You both remain silent, as if it would stop, but the knocking turns persistent.

"Pedro, I know you're in there"

It's Paul freaking Mescal, again. You might just have to invite him next time if he keeps showing up like that.

"Should I go?" Pedro whispers, and you shrug, stating it would be weirder to pretend he wasn't if Paul knew he was. "How do I look?"

You eye him up and down, eye glistening with dissaproval, red cheeks giving away your thoughts as if the furrowed eyebrows and ashamed gaze didn't already.

"We are fucked"

"No" he giggles, "we just fucked"

"That's not funny!" you roll your eyes, playfully smacking his chest. "Please, look into the mirror and try to fix yourself a bit. If not, we're doomed to be remembered as a horny couple. Oh, we were going so well! Fans will make fun of us and the press will call us horndogs" you lament, exaggerating your voice.

"Oh, shush. We wanted to be able to be in public. This is what it feels like"

You blush. "Maybe we can reduce the public aspect a bit..."

Pedro snorts before doing a quick fix to his appearance, walking to the door where Mescal patiently waits behind. Oh, of course; that little fucker. After the TMZ news dropped, he connected the dots and know that whatever happened in that trailer when Pedro told him to fuck off, wasn't holy at all. Now, he's probably laughing or scheming.

"Paul!" Pedro opens the door. "W-what's up?"

The younger man does a quick scan of his friend, barely able to hide a laugh.

"Looking radiant, my friend" he answers with a shit-eating grin. "They need to do some re-shootings. Have you happen to seen y/n? She just keeps dissappearing when you- oh, when you do!" he mocks. "Well, if you ever happen to find y/n, tell her you both need to get a good fix unless y'all want to show up on TMZ again. I'm pretty sure you can find something in this dressing room to cover those marks, yeah?"

He finally breaks down laughing in front of Pedro's shocked face.

"Ah, you guys are the absolute worst" he folds in a fit of laughter, "so fucking horny you end up fucking in bathrooms and dressing rooms!"

Your voice can be heard from inside as you growl, face red with fury and shame:

"Hijo de puta" (son of a bitch!), "don't make me bring Daisy Edgar-Jones into this!"

l-u-n-a-m: they're just milking their relationship atp for promo but i'm not complaining need more pictures of the photoshoot NOW vnightx: istg if they don't stop flirting in front of my single ass face. i need a gun at0michips: have i gone insane or does pedro have love bites ㅤㅤmybritishstyle: MI HIJO DOES NOT HAVE LOVE BITES. HE JUST FELL DOWN THE STAIRS

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @trashcora / *i'm never gonna call twitter as X. it's still twitter, and will always be. fuck that ugly bigot filthy billionaire hoe called elon-trump-cocksucker-musk.

#dilfistwrites #gladiator II #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x you #pedro x reader #pedro pascal fluff #taylor swift #reputation #call it what you want #paul mescal #call it what you want series

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mattsjuul · 3 months ago

Text

GRAVITY. chris sturniolo

༣ summary: chris is on tour and misses his girlfriend .ᐟ ♡

༣ pairing: clingy!reader & tour!chris

༣ warnings: suggestive, just a cute lil oneshot tbh, pet names ( i think only one tho ), long distance ???? idk

༣ authors note ♡: ok i rlly didnt know what to do for this tbh i js wanted to write for chris lol!!!! this MIIIGHT get a pt 2 tho. so twoshot!

you stand in your kitchen, your mind constantly filled with thoughts of your boyfriend while he's off on tour. is he sleeping? maybe he's eating something. i hope he's enjoying it. is he gonna call me? isnt he in new york? thats three hours ahead. three whole hours. so if its six pm here then its... seven... eight.. nine. nine pm there? so is he asleep? i dont know if tour's got him sleepy. gosh. can he call me? i bet he looks so good right now. fuck. then your thoughts are interrupted by a very specific text tone. it's chris! "Hey" "R u busy imy" you read, causing you to almost start jumping for joy in front of your open fridge. although you do a little squeal instead. "definitely not" "call me im begging" you reply. "I like that" he replies, making you giggle to yourself. seconds later, your screen lights up with a picture of chris with a big smile holding your dear friend, madison, 's cat.

"well hellloooo" you answer with a smile far too big. "hey sexy" he smiles back just as much. "i've been waiting for this call" you admit. "yeah? you been thinking about me?" he asks in a cocky tone. but it was lowkey doing things to you. well. highkey. "you'd like that wouldnt you?" you ask. "yeah." he proudly says. "i was actually about to rub one out since im alone. show me your tits" he jokes. "don't tempt me" you giggle. "i mean.. you're free to do whatever you want. you're an adult with free will in your own home" he babbles on. you take a deep breath, honestly debating it. why not? he's seen them pleennttyy of times. more so, touched them plenty of times.

"ya' know." he interrupts your debating. "i've had lots of time to think. especially to think about you. and ya' know, we're never really apart for longer then a week. and it's made me realize that you really hold me down. i feel like i need at least one night with you every week to function. not like night.. i mean one sleep. i feel like it's made me sleep not so well. is that crazy? i'm not making sense. but then also, it'll be like 10 am here and i'll argue with nick or matt and i cant run to you. you'd be asleep and i dont want you to be upset the moment you wake up. i hate this seperation. i hate making you wait.. like what if you stop liking me before i get back. fuck. you're not hanging out with that actor guy you like, right?" he goes ooonnn n on. well boobs wouldnt be too appropriate right now. "okay.. no" you reply for starters. "and i dont think it's crazy. i get it. but you're veeeryyy cute for thinking all this. i love you chris. i miss you so much." i say. "i love you. can i see your boobs?" he asks, a giggle escaping your lips at his very stupid words.

yet you lift your top up, getting a shocked look from chris. "oh.. i like those.. a lot." he says, a big smile on your face as you shake 'em a little. "just.. stay there for a second" he says, seeing him moving around, clearly pulling his sweats down. "join me, yeah?"

a/n: ohhhhh em geeee.... idk if i like this tbh lol. but lmk if u want a part two w phone sex hehe. im sorry its so so short sad face.. i actually rlly liked writing this tho idk. yaaay hope u like :') ♡ lmk if there r any mistakes pls i didnt proof read!!!!!! (im in class..) 🐻‍❄️

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #chris sturiolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #Spotify

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leahrintarou · 6 months ago

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✩₊˚.⋆ PUSHED BUTTONS ! - katsuki bakugou / 10.19 / kinktober

CW: hardom!bakugou (kinda), pet names, female anatomy reader, she/her, fingering, teasing, overstimulation, brat taming kink ofc, that's all

Word Count: 2.5k

Author's Note: another late chapter guys sorrryy I'VE BEEN SO BUSY :'(. i hope you enjoy reading tho! leave a like or reblog to show support. next chapter will be out later tdy <3

y/n had been pushing bakugou’s buttons all day, and he was running out of patience. she knew exactly what she was doing, testing him with every sly remark, every deliberately careless action. bakugou could feel the heat rising in his chest, but he wasn’t about to give in just yet. part of him knew y/n was doing it on purpose, and another part of him was almost enjoying it—almost.

it started early that morning when y/n “accidentally” knocked his mug off the kitchen counter. the crash of ceramic breaking against the floor was loud and sharp, followed by an innocent shrug from y/n.

“oops,” she said, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

bakugou’s eyes narrowed, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he stood there, fists clenched. “that’s the third one this month, y/n. you gonna clean that up or just stand there smiling like an idiot?”

y/n leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “i dunno, maybe you should clean it up. you’re good at fixing things, right?”

his glare sharpened, the threat of an explosion simmering just below the surface. “don’t push me.”

she raised an eyebrow, clearly not deterred. with an exaggerated sigh, y/n bent down to pick up the pieces, but she did it slowly—way too slowly—taking her time just to watch his reaction. bakugou’s gaze stayed locked on her, a mixture of annoyance and warning.

“you better not be messing with me,” he muttered under his breath, though loud enough for her to hear.

y/n only smiled, not saying a word, just continuing her painfully slow pace. bakugou watched every deliberate move, his irritation growing, but he stayed quiet. for now.

later that day, the two were out running errands. bakugou was focused, as usual, but y/n seemed to be on a mission to poke at him. when he told her to hurry up, she slowed down. when he asked for silence, she hummed loudly. every little thing was a challenge, a direct test of how far she could go before he’d break.

it was when they got home that bakugou’s patience hit its limit.

“you gonna act like a brat all day, or are you done?” he asked, dropping the bags onto the kitchen counter with a heavy thud. his tone was sharp, controlled, but barely.

y/n looked at him, feigning innocence. “what do you mean? i’ve been an angel.”

bakugou’s eyes flared, and he took a step toward her. “an angel, huh? is that what you think you are?”

“i don’t know, you tell me.” she tilted her head, that same smirk playing on her lips again.

bakugou’s patience snapped. in an instant, he had her backed against the counter, his hand braced next to her head, caging her in. his face was inches from hers, and the low growl in his voice sent a shiver down her spine. “you think it’s fun messing with me? think you can act like a little brat and get away with it?”

y/n’s breath hitched slightly, but she didn’t drop the act. “maybe. what are you gonna do about it?”

his eyes darkened, and his other hand came up to gently grip her chin, forcing her to look directly at him. “oh, you’re gonna find out. you wanna play games? fine. but don’t cry when i play rough.”

y/n’s heart raced at his words, the teasing smirk faltering slightly, but she wasn’t ready to back down yet. “maybe i like it rough.”

bakugou’s lips twitched into a wicked grin. “oh, i know you do.”

before she could respond, he spun her around, pinning her against the counter. his hands held her wrists firmly, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind her who was in control now. y/n squirmed, half-playful, half-serious, testing his grip.

“you like being difficult, don’t you?” he muttered in her ear, his voice low, almost dangerous.

she didn’t answer right away, still trying to get under his skin. “maybe... or maybe i just like seeing how far i can push you.”

bakugou chuckled darkly, his breath hot against her neck. “well, you’ve pushed me far enough, princess.”

y/n shivered at the nickname, the tension between them crackling like electricity. bakugou’s grip tightened just slightly, his tone shifting from playful to commanding.

“now, you’re gonna behave, or i’m gonna show you exactly what happens when you don’t.”

y/n’s heart raced, the thrill of the challenge and the excitement of bakugou’s dominance sending adrenaline coursing through her veins. she knew she’d been pushing him all day, and now, she was about to see the consequences of her actions.

“fine,” she whispered, though the glint in her eyes told bakugou she wasn’t quite done yet.

he smirked. “good. now let’s see if you can actually follow through.”

bakugou’s grip on y/n's wrists tightened just a bit more as he pressed her against the counter, his body flush against hers. she could feel the heat radiating off him, the tension between them almost tangible. his breath was hot against her neck as he leaned in closer, his voice a low growl in her ear.

“you think you can mess with me all day and get away with it, huh?” he muttered, his lips just barely grazing her skin.

y/n’s breath hitched, her pulse racing. she tried to keep her cool, but the way he had her pinned, the way his presence consumed her—it was impossible to ignore. “maybe i just like seeing you like this,” she teased, her voice breathy but still defiant.

bakugou chuckled darkly, his grip shifting as he spun her around to face him. now, with her back against the wall, his eyes bore into hers, intense and unwavering. “oh, you like this, do you?” he whispered, his thumb brushing against her lip.

y/n smirked, refusing to back down. “you know i do.”

in one swift motion, bakugou lifted her up, pressing her harder against the wall as her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. his hands gripped her thighs firmly, his lips ghosting over hers, teasing her with the closeness.

y/n’s heart raced as his lips finally crashed into hers, rough and demanding. the kiss was a mixture of frustration and desire, both of them feeding off the energy that had been building all day. her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss as he pressed his body even tighter against hers.

his hands slid up her sides, gripping her waist before moving under her shirt, his touch sending shivers down her spine. “you’re such a fucking tease,” he groaned against her lips, his breath ragged.

“and you love it,” y/n shot back, her voice barely a whisper.

bakugou’s eyes darkened, a wicked grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. his hands gripped her tighter, his lips trailing down her neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

y/n’s breath came in short gasps, her body responding to every touch, every word. she could feel the raw power in him, the control he had over her, and it only fueled the fire between them.

“you wanna keep testing me, sweetheart?” bakugou murmured against her skin, his hands gripping her hips with just enough pressure to make her squirm. "maybe."

without another word, bakugou’s hands moved to the hem of her shirt, yanking it over her head with a rough, fluid motion. his lips were back on hers before she could even catch her breath, the kiss more urgent, more demanding. he pressed her harder against the wall, his body dominating hers as they both gave into the moment.

“fuck, you drive me crazy,” bakugou muttered between kisses, his hands roaming her body with a rough but careful touch, his fingers tracing every curve.

y/n grinned against his lips, her hands running down his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his shirt. “good,” she whispered, her voice full of mischief. “then i guess i’m doing something right.”

“you really don’t know when to quit, do you?” he groaned in her ear, his voice low and filled with a dangerous edge.

before she could respond, bakugou’s hips pressed against her, the hardness of his tent rubbing against her ass, sending a jolt of electricity through her body. she gasped, her breath catching in her throat as he held her in place, the friction undeniable.

“this what you wanted, huh?” he muttered, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of her neck. “mess with me all day just to get me like this?”

y/n swallowed hard, her heart racing, but she wasn’t about to let him win so easily. “maybe,” she whispered, her voice teasing even though her body was reacting to every move he made.

bakugou’s hand slid down to grip her hips, pulling her even closer to him as he rubbed against her again, harder this time, his breath becoming more ragged. “you think it’s fun pushing me? ‘cause now you’ve got me right where you want me, sweetheart.”

y/n bit her lip, a thrill running through her as she felt his control slipping, his restraint barely hanging on by a thread. “maybe i do,” she said, voice breathless.

bakugou let out a low chuckle, his lips grazing her ear as he pressed his body against hers, the heat between them intensifying. “you have no idea what you’re getting into.”

his hips moved again, a deliberate motion as he rubbed his tent against her once more, the pressure sending a shiver down her spine. his hands held her firmly in place, making sure she felt every second of it. y/n’s breath hitched, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of a full reaction, even though her body was betraying her, leaning into him.

“still gonna act like a brat?” bakugou whispered, his voice rough as his hands gripped her tighter, his body pinning her harder against the wall.

y/n smirked despite the heat building between them. “maybe i like being a brat,” she shot back, her voice barely more than a whisper.

bakugou groaned softly, his lips brushing against her neck. “then you’re gonna find out exactly what happens when you keep it up.” his hand reached around her, gripping the hem of her skirt and pulling it up to her waist, revealing the fabric of her panties. his hand cupped her sex, pulling her closer towards him as their panting breaths filled the room.

bakugou’s grip tightened on y/n’s thighs as he held her against the wall, his fingers rough but deliberate as they slid between her legs, teasing her just enough to make her squirm. his touch was light at first, drawing out a gasp from her lips, but he wasn’t in the mood to play for long. with a low groan, his fingers pressed harder against her core, rubbing slow, deliberate circles over her panties.

“you like this, don’t you?” he muttered, his voice dark, breath hot against her neck as his lips trailed along her skin, his teeth grazing her collarbone. y/n’s breath hitched, her body reacting to every touch despite her attempt to stay composed.

his other hand slid up her body, tugging her shirt higher until he had full access to her bare skin. his fingers splayed out against her waist, feeling the tension in her body as she shifted against him. with a sharp tug, he pulled her panties aside, his fingers finally dipping between her folds, teasing her entrance but not giving her what she really wanted yet.

“you’re soaking,” he hissed, his breath ragged, voice filled with both frustration and desire. “you’re such a fucking tease, but i knew you’d like this.”

his fingers moved faster now, sliding against her slick heat with precision, each motion drawing a soft moan from y/n. her hands gripped his shoulders tightly, nails digging into his skin through his shirt as she bucked her hips against his touch, chasing the friction he was giving her.

bakugou’s lips found hers again, rough and hungry, his kiss demanding submission. he swallowed her moans, his fingers sliding in and out of her with increasing intensity, every movement precise, every sound she made pushing him further into his own haze of lust and control.

“you like pushing me?” he growled against her lips, his fingers curling inside her just enough to make her gasp. “then take this, brat.”

he increased his pace, his thumb pressing against her bud with firm, relentless pressure, his fingers working her faster, deeper.

bakugou’s fingers moved with relentless precision, the friction driving y/n closer to the edge. her body reacted instinctively, hips bucking against his hand as she chased the release he was teasing just out of reach. her breath came in ragged gasps, each one mingling with the low, guttural sounds escaping bakugou’s throat as he watched her squirm beneath him.

“katsuki—” y/n’s voice was breathless, a mix of desperation and defiance.

he smirked at the sound of his name, his thumb pressing harder against her clit as his fingers curled inside her, hitting the perfect spot with ruthless accuracy. “what? you got something to say, princess?”

her nails dug into his shoulders, a sharp hiss escaping her as she tried to maintain some semblance of control, but it was slipping fast. “fuck… i—” she bit her lip, cutting herself off as another wave of pleasure washed over her.

bakugou’s grin widened, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “what’s the matter? not so tough now, are you?”

his words were punctuated by the rough, steady rhythm of his fingers, each thrust sending y/n closer to the edge. her legs tightened around his waist, her body trembling as the tension built to a breaking point. “katsuki, please…”

his eyes flashed with a wicked light, clearly enjoying every second of her unraveling beneath him. “you’re gonna beg now? after all that shit you pulled today?”

y/n’s head fell back against the wall, her resolve crumbling under the relentless pace of his fingers. “i’m— i’m sorry, okay?” she gasped, her voice barely a whisper, laced with desperation.

bakugou chuckled darkly, leaning in to press his lips against her ear. “too late for that, sweetheart.”

with one final, deliberate thrust of his fingers, he pushed her over the edge. y/n’s body tensed, her breath catching in her throat as her orgasm crashed through her like a tidal wave, the intensity of it overwhelming. her legs shook around him, her grip on his shoulders tightening as she rode out the high, every nerve in her body on fire.

bakugou didn’t let up, his fingers continuing their relentless pace, drawing out every last bit of her pleasure until she was trembling, barely able to keep herself upright. when he finally slowed, his fingers stilling inside her, y/n was left breathless, her body slumped against the wall, completely spent.

he leaned back slightly, pulling his hand away, his eyes locking with hers. “had enough, or you still wanna act like a brat?”

y/n managed a weak smirk, her breath still coming in shallow gasps. “maybe next time… i’ll let you win.”

bakugou raised an eyebrow, clearly not amused. “oh, we’re not done yet, princess.”

before she could respond, he scooped her up, carrying her towards the bedroom, a determined look in his eyes. y/n’s heart raced as she realized just how far bakugou was willing to take this.

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honeyhae-svt · 4 months ago

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🎮On Off On🎭

Part-Time Lover | JxW - masterlist

⚠️ WARNINGS ⚠️: emotional tension, love triangle (we're getting serious), jealousy, angst, possessiveness, unresolved feelings, conflict, intimate situations, mature themes (smut), emotional hurt/comfort smut warnings: kissing, oral sex (f & m receiving), unprotected sex (fictional! not ideal IRL), rough sex (explicitly described thrusting, intense actions), overstimulation, desperate kisses, tension-filled build-up, power dynamics (m dom), creampie (fictional context), consent (implied and verbal), emotional vulnerability (expressed through intimacy), body worship and attention to physical details, breath play (heavy breathing, audible reactions), dirty talk, descriptive sexual acts (explicit descriptions of genital stimulation), post-coital intimacy (gentle moments after sex) wc: 10,994 ♪ playlist ♪ : adore you (harry styles), into you (ariana grande), slow hands (niall horan), you (the 1975) a/n: pls i think i made this shit messier. im gonna die wtf im just warning that its too much drama so read at your own risk (please enjoy tho ! dont let my own words deceive you lmaooo)

It started with little things. The way Jeonghan's gaze lingered a moment too long when he thought you weren't paying attention, the way he seemed to show up at your workplace more often—always with some excuse. "I was in the area," or, "I needed your opinion on something."

Today was no different.

You were packing up for the day when Jeonghan strolled in, hands casually tucked into the pockets of his coat. His hair looked freshly styled, loose waves framing his face in a way that made it impossible not to notice how effortlessly good-looking he was.

"You're getting predictable," you teased, slinging your bag over your shoulder. "What's the excuse this time?"

Jeonghan grinned, unfazed. "No excuse. I figured you'd want coffee after work. Am I wrong?"

You narrowed your eyes at him, pretending to consider. "Not wrong, but suspiciously convenient."

He simply held the door open for you, his smile widening. "I'll take that as a yes."

The café was one of those cozy, dimly lit spots with worn leather chairs and the faint scent of cinnamon lingering in the air. You'd been here before with Jeonghan, but today it felt different.

He ordered your usual without asking, then led you to a corner booth, his easy demeanor masking something unspoken.

"So," he said, leaning back in his seat as the two of you waited for your drinks. "How's everything going? Work, life... Wonwoo?"

You froze mid-reach for a napkin, your fingers curling back as you met his gaze. His tone was casual, almost too casual, but there was a glint in his eye—mischievous, probing.

"Wonwoo?" you echoed, feigning innocence. "Why are you bringing him up?"

Jeonghan shrugged, his expression unreadable. "No reason. Just curious."

The barista arrived with your drinks, breaking the moment, but the tension lingered. You stirred your coffee absently, unsure how to respond.

"We've just been hanging out," you said finally, keeping your tone neutral. "It's not a big deal."

"Hmm." Jeonghan's lips quirked upward, though his eyes remained sharp. "It's funny. I don't think I've ever seen him so... animated. He must really enjoy your company."

"Jeonghan," you said, a warning laced in your tone.

He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. "Relax, I'm just teasing. But..." He trailed off, studying you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. "I wonder what he'd say if he knew about us."

Your breath caught, the words hitting like a subtle jab and lingering in the air. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Jeonghan tilted his head, his expression unreadable yet impossibly confident. "It means I think he'd be curious. Maybe even a little jealous."

You scoffed, though the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you. "There's no us, Jeonghan. You're just stirring the pot, as usual."

"Am I?" he asked, his tone softer now, almost teasing. "Or are you just trying to convince yourself of that?"

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you couldn't find the words to reply. He leaned back again, taking a sip of his coffee as if he hadn't just flipped your world upside down.

The conversation shifted after that, easing into safer territory—shared stories, light jokes, and discussions about work. But his earlier words lingered in the back of your mind, their weight impossible to shake.

As you walked out of the café together, the cool evening air biting at your skin, Jeonghan slid his hands into his coat pockets, his gaze fixed ahead.

"By the way," he said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence. "You've been distracted lately. Is something on your mind?"

You hesitated, your grip tightening on your bag. "Not really. Just... a lot going on."

He nodded, his expression unreadable once again. "Well, whatever it is, don't forget I'm here. You don't have to figure everything out on your own."

There it was again—that maddening ability of his to slip past your defenses without even trying. As much as you wanted to brush him off, the sincerity in his tone made it impossible.

"Thanks," you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jeonghan turned to you then, his smile soft and almost wistful. "Anytime."

And just like that, the moment was over. But as you parted ways, his words echoed in your mind, leaving you more confused than ever.

That evening, as you settled into your couch with a blanket and your phone, you couldn't shake Jeonghan's words from earlier. "I wonder what he'd say if he knew about us..." They replayed in your mind, making it harder to focus on anything else.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. It wasn't like Jeonghan to speak so candidly—or maybe it was, but this time it felt different. Intentional. And the worst part was, he wasn't entirely wrong.

Your phone buzzed on the armrest, snapping you out of your thoughts.

Wonwoo.

The notification was simple:

Wonwoo: Hey, you free right now?

A small smile tugged at your lips despite everything. There was something about the way Wonwoo messaged you—straightforward, no games—that felt grounding.

You: yea what's up? Wonwoo: Feel like getting some air? I'm parked outside.

Your heart skipped a beat. It wasn't the first time he'd done this—shown up unannounced but with impeccable timing, as if he knew exactly when you needed a distraction.

You: give me five

When you stepped outside, Wonwoo was leaning against his car, hands tucked into his hoodie pockets, the cool night air making his breath visible. His gaze softened when he saw you, and he straightened up, opening the passenger door with a quiet, "Hey."

"Hey," you replied, climbing into the car. "You always this spontaneous?"

He chuckled as he slid into the driver's seat, the sound low and warm. "Only with you."

Your cheeks warmed at his words, but you brushed it off, letting the quiet hum of the car's engine fill the space.

"Where are we going?" you asked after a moment, glancing at him.

"You'll see," was all he said, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips.

The drive was peaceful, the city lights giving way to quieter streets as he took you somewhere more secluded. When he finally pulled over, you realized he'd brought you to a lookout point overlooking the city.

The view was breathtaking, the skyline glittering like stars on the horizon. Wonwoo turned off the engine but left the music playing softly in the background—a familiar tune you couldn't place but found comforting.

He leaned back, resting his arm along the top of his seat as he turned to you. "You've been quiet."

You hesitated, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve. "Just... thinking."

"About Jeonghan?" he asked, his tone carefully neutral.

Your head snapped toward him, eyes wide. "What makes you think—"

"You're bad at hiding it," he interrupted, his lips quirking into a faint smile. "And Jeonghan's been... different lately."

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head. "I don't even know how to explain it. He's always playing these mind games, making me second-guess everything."

Wonwoo's gaze darkened slightly, his usual calm giving way to something sharper. "That's just how he is. But if he's messing with your head, maybe you should take a step back."

You stared at him, surprised by the edge in his voice. "Why do you care so much?"

He didn't answer right away, his jaw tightening as he looked out at the city. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, almost hesitant. "Because I don't want to see you get hurt. Not by him. Not by anyone."

The weight of his words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. Then, almost on instinct, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his hand where it rested on the console.

"Wonwoo..."

He turned to you, his eyes searching yours, and suddenly the space between you felt impossibly small. You didn't know who moved first—maybe it was him, maybe it was you—but before you could think, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was slow at first, careful and deliberate, as if testing the waters. But then his hand moved to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek, and something shifted.

You leaned into him, your fingers tangling in the fabric of his hoodie as the kiss deepened, all the confusion and tension of the past few days melting away in the warmth of his touch.

His lips moved with ceratainty, tongue seeking entrance to your mouth. You opened it for him, and that's when your tongues felt like they were tangled.

It was then when he adjusted to lean closer to your seat to kiss you better from different angles, leaving your lips all swollen and red, not because of the lipstick, but because of how he nipped and sucked at your lips like it's the last thing on earth to do.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes still closed.

"This isn't just attraction anymore," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "At least not for me."

Your heart pounded in your chest, the weight of his confession crashing over you. You wanted to say something, anything, but the words caught in your throat.

Because as much as you wanted to deny it, part of you knew he was right.

The night felt quieter than usual as Wonwoo drove you home. The streets were empty, bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, and the silence in the car was heavy, not uncomfortable but laden with unspoken words.

"Thanks for tonight," you said softly, breaking the quiet.

Wonwoo glanced at you briefly, his profile illuminated by the passing lights. "Anytime," he replied, his voice calm but distant, as if there was something on his mind.

When he pulled up in front of your place, neither of you moved to get out right away. The stillness stretched on until you finally turned to him, your curiosity getting the better of you.

"Wonwoo, are you okay?"

He let out a soft laugh, though there was no humor in it. "Am I that easy to read?"

"Kind of," you teased gently, hoping to lighten the mood.

But he didn't smile. Instead, he turned to face you fully, his dark eyes searching yours. "I'm not good at this... saying how I feel. But tonight, being with you, it just... felt different."

Your breath caught in your throat, the weight of his words sinking in. "Different how?"

"The way I look at you... it's not just about attraction anymore," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand reached out, hesitating before brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "It's more than that. You make me feel things I wasn't prepared for."

The vulnerability in his voice made your chest tighten. You wanted to say something, but the words escaped you. Instead, you leaned forward, your lips finding his in a kiss that started slow, careful, deliberate.

His hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek as the kiss deepened. It felt like all the confusion and tension of the past few days melted away in the warmth of his touch.

When you finally pulled back, breathless yet again, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed.

Your heart pounded, but before you could say anything, he leaned back, his hand dropping to his side. "It's late. You should get some rest."

You nodded, slipping out of the car with a soft "goodnight," though the weight of his confession stayed with you long after the door closed behind you.

The Next Morning

The café was unusually busy, but Jeonghan didn't seem to mind. He sat across from you, coffee in hand, his usual playful smirk firmly in place.

"You've been distracted lately," he said, his tone light but his gaze sharp. "Something—or someone—on your mind?"

You rolled your eyes, playing along with his teasing. "Don't flatter yourself, Hannie."

He laughed, reaching across the table to nudge your arm. "See, that's the fire I like. Don't ever lose that."

The two of you lingered over coffee, chatting about everything and nothing, and by the time you left, he had his arm slung casually around your shoulders, his laughter ringing in your ears.

What you didn't notice was the figure standing across the street, watching the two of you with a mixture of hurt and frustration.

Wonwoo stood frozen, his hands clenched at his sides as he watched Jeonghan lean in close, whispering something in your ear that made you laugh. The way you looked at Jeonghan—so relaxed, so comfortable—felt like a punch to the gut.

By the time he turned away, the image of the two of you was burned into his mind, and the questions he'd been wrestling with all night came rushing back with a vengeance.

It started with a text.

Wonwoo: Busy tonight?

You stared at your phone, the memory of Jeonghan's laughter from earlier still fresh in your mind. Wonwoo's timing felt uncanny, almost as if he could sense when you were thinking about someone else.

You: nope You: why Wonwoo: Come over. I found a new game you'll like.

You hesitated for a moment, your fingers hovering over the screen. The invitation felt simple enough, but there was something about the way he asked—direct, no room for excuses—that made your heart skip a beat.

You: whats the game Wonwoo: You'll find out when you get here. Don't keep me waiting.

The last message came with a small but unmistakable sense of urgency, and before you could second-guess yourself, you were grabbing your jacket and heading out the door.

When you arrived at his place, the atmosphere felt different. The usual dim lighting and faint smell of coffee greeted you, but there was an undercurrent of something unspoken in the air.

Wonwoo was already setting up the game, his back turned to you as you stepped inside. "I was starting to think you weren't coming," he said without looking up.

"You don't exactly leave much room for saying no," you replied, your tone light but teasing.

He glanced over his shoulder, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "Good. I'd hate to lose my gaming partner to... other distractions."

The way he said it made your stomach flip, but you chose to ignore the implication. "So, what's this game you're so excited about?"

"Sit down, and I'll show you."

It had become a thing between the two of you—gaming sessions at Wonwoo's place, where you'd sit shoulder-to-shoulder on the couch, sharing laughter and mild trash talk over the sounds of button-mashing and victories. But tonight felt different. The way his knee brushed against yours when he adjusted his position, the way he leaned a little closer when explaining the controls—it all felt deliberate, as if he was trying to pull you into his orbit.

Tonight was no different, except something felt off. Wonwoo was quieter than usual, his responses shorter, his usual calm demeanor tinged with something heavier.

"Alright, spill it," you said after another round ended, setting your controller down and turning to face him. "What's up with you?"

He didn't look at you immediately, his fingers still hovering over the buttons as if debating whether to start another game. Finally, he sighed and leaned back against the couch, his gaze fixed on the TV screen.

"You're making this really hard for me, you know?" he said, his voice low but steady.

You blinked, confused. "Making what hard?"

"This," he gestured vaguely between the two of you, finally turning to meet your eyes. "Being around you. Pretending I'm okay with... whatever this is."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you were at a loss. "Wonwoo, I—"

"I know," he cut you off gently, running a hand through his hair. "I know you're caught up in something with Jeonghan, and I'm not trying to make this more complicated for you. But I can't keep pretending it doesn't kill me to see you with him."

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, and before you could think, you reached out, your hand resting on his arm. "Wonwoo..."

His eyes softened at your touch, and for a moment, the tension seemed to dissipate. But then he shifted closer, his gaze dropping to your lips before flicking back up to meet your eyes.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You didn't.

The next thing you knew, his lips were on yours, the kiss slow and searching at first, as if he was giving you a chance to pull away. But when you didn't, when you instead leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his neck, the kiss deepened, becoming hungrier, more urgent.

Wonwoo's hands found your waist, pulling you into his lap as the kiss grew more intense. You could feel the heat radiating off him, his breath hitching as your hands slid under the hem of his hoodie, your fingers grazing the warm skin beneath.

"You're driving me crazy," he muttered against your lips, his voice rough with desire.

"Good," you replied, your own voice breathless as you nipped at his bottom lip.

He groaned, his grip on your waist tightening as he guided you against him, the friction making you both gasp. His lips moved to your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses that had you arching into him, your hands tangling in his hair.

"Wonwoo," you breathed, his name coming out like a prayer as he continued his assault on your senses.

His hands slid beneath your shirt, his touch sending shivers down your spine as he explored every inch of skin he could reach. "Tell me if I need to stop," he said, his voice strained but sincere.

"Don't stop," you whispered, your own hands tugging at his hoodie, eager to feel more of him.

His hoodie was the first to go, leaving him in just a plain black t-shirt that clung to his frame. You caught yourself staring for a second too long, but Wonwoo didn't seem to mind. His lips were back on yours before you could even form a coherent thought, his hands slipping under your shirt again, this time more purposeful, more confident.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice low and edged with restraint.

You nodded, your fingers tracing the curve of his jaw. "Yes," you whispered, your voice barely audible but resolute.

That was all the confirmation he needed. In one fluid motion, he lifted your shirt over your head, followed by the unclipping of your bra. His eyes darkening as he took in the sight of your breasts. His hands were back on you immediately, roaming over your bare skin with a mix of reverence and hunger.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured against your shoulder, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin there before trailing down to your collarbone. His hands squeezing one of your breasts, thumbs grazing your sensitive nipples.

Heat pooled from your soaked cunt as he kissed his way lower, his hands firmly gripping your hips as if grounding himself. Your own hands found their way under his shirt, pushing it up and over his head, and the sight of him—flushed, disheveled, and entirely focused on you—made your heart race even faster.

When he leaned back to pull you closer, your legs straddling his hips, you felt every inch of him pressed against you, the friction sparking something primal between you. His lips were on yours again, his kiss deeper, hungrier, as his hands slid down to the waistband of your jeans.

"You can still stop me," he murmured against your lips, his fingers pausing just shy of the button.

Your response was immediate. "I don't want to stop."

His lips curved into a small, satisfied smirk before he made quick work of your jeans, tugging them down just enough to leave you exposed to him. He paused for a moment, his gaze raking over you with an intensity that made you feel both vulnerable and desired.

"You're perfect," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, before his hands were on you again, his touch igniting a fire that consumed every thought, every hesitation.

Wonwoo's hands trailed down your thighs, his touch deliberate and teasing as he mapped out every curve. The heat in his gaze was undeniable, a fire that matched the one building within you. When his fingers hooked under the waistband of your underwear, he paused, his dark eyes flickering to yours.

He slid your underwear down slowly, his lips pressing soft kisses along your inner thigh as he did, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. The way he looked at you—like you were the only thing in the world that mattered—made you tremble beneath him.

When his mouth found your soaked pussy, a gasp tore from your lips, your fingers tangling in his hair as he worked you over with an expertise that left you breathless. His tongue moved in slow, deliberate circles, the pressure just enough to have your hips bucking against him, seeking more.

"Fuck, Wonwoo," you moaned, the sound of his name falling from your lips only spurring him on. His hands gripped your thighs, keeping you firmly in place as he pushed you higher against him, his tongue reaching that one spot, your body teetering on the edge of bliss.

When he finally pulled back, his lips glistening, he looked up at you with a satisfied smirk. "You taste so good," he murmured, his voice rough with desire.

Before you could respond, he was back over you, his body pressing against yours as he captured your lips in a searing kiss. You could taste yourself on him, the intimacy of it only heightening your arousal. His hand slid between your legs again, his fingers teasing you, sliding through your slick folds before slowly pushing inside.

A cry escaped your lips, your back arching as he set a slow, torturous rhythm. "You're so fucking tight," he groaned, his forehead resting against yours as he watched your every reaction. "So perfect."

Your hands roamed his body, desperate to feel every inch of him. When you reached for his waistband, he let out a low chuckle but didn't stop you, his breath hitching as you freed him from his sweats. He was hard and heavy in your hand, and the guttural groan he let out when you stroked him made you feel powerful despite the way he had you unraveling beneath him.

Your palm did well enough, but when you took his cock in your mouth, that's when his precum was leaking out. You bobbed your head and licked the tip of his cock until he finally came in you.

His hot load leaking from your lips as you swallowed hard.

"I need you," he whispered, his voice rough with restraint as he positioned his cock at your entrance. He paused, his gaze locking with yours. "Tell me if it's too much. I don't ever want to hurt you."

You cupped his face, pulling him into a kiss as you wrapped your legs around his waist. "I trust you," you whispered against his lips. "Take it in."

With a quiet groan, he pushed into you slowly, filling you inch by inch until you were gasping, your nails digging into his shoulders. He stilled once he was fully seated inside you, his breath ragged as he gave you a moment to adjust.

"You feel so fucking good," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "Better than I ever imagined."

You whimpered in response, rolling your hips against him in silent encouragement. He took the hint, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in, his movements measured but deep, each stroke drawing a moan from your lips. The way he filled you, stretched you, left you trembling, your body meeting his with every thrust.

"Wonwoo," you gasped, your voice breaking as he picked up the pace, his hands gripping your hips to guide you. He buried his face in your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he lost himself in you.

His cock was slamming into you real hard as if there was no time to waste. Your moans only encouraging him to move faster to reach his climax and yours.

The room was filled with the sound of your labored breathing, the wet slap of skin against skin, and the occasional groan or whimper as he drove you both closer to the edge. The intensity of it—the way he worshipped your body, the way he whispered your name like a prayer—had you spiraling, the tension coiling in your stomach until it snapped.

You came undone with a cry, your body convulsing around him as waves of pleasure crashed over you. He followed soon after, his hips stuttering as he spilled into you, his groan muffled against your neck.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the only sound the heavy rhythm of your breathing. Wonwoo finally pulled back, cock dripping with your mixed cum, his lips brushing over your forehead as he gazed down at you with an expression so tender it made your heart ache.

"That wasn't just about lust," he murmured, his voice soft but certain. "Not for me."

Your chest tightened at his words, the weight of them sinking in. You wanted to respond, to tell him everything you were feeling, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, you cupped his face, pulling him into another kiss—slow, lingering, and filled with all the emotions you couldn't yet put into words.

You were almost too smug for your own good, leaning back with a satisfied grin as you glanced at Wonwoo, wearing nothing but his hoodie that was oversized in your frame.

"You got lucky," he grumbled, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Admit it," you teased, leaning toward him, your breath brushing against his ear. "I'm just better than you."

His eyes flickered to yours, a spark of mischief in their depths. "Oh, is that so?"

Before you could react, he reached out, pulling you onto his lap in one swift motion. You gasped in surprise, dropping the controller as his arms locked around your waist, keeping you firmly in place. Wonwoo swore under his breath when he recognizes his scent from your body.

"Still think you're better than me?" he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

You blinked, confused by the sudden change in his energy. "Wonwoo, what are you—"

Before you could finish, his lips were on yours, capturing them in a kiss that was anything but playful. It was deep and hungry, the kind that made your knees weak and your heart race.

The controller clattered to the floor, forgotten as your hands instinctively tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. His hands roamed over your body, sliding under the hoodie to grip your waist, his thumbs brushing over your skin in a way that made you gasp against his lips.

"God, you're distracting," he muttered, pulling back just enough to speak, his forehead resting against yours.

"You started it," you shot back breathlessly, your hands clutching at his plain black t-shirt.

"Maybe," he admitted, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "But you're going to finish it."

Before you could respond, he reached for the controller with one hand, the other still firmly on your hip. "Let's see if you can focus now," he challenged, restarting the game.

"Wonwoo, you can't be serious—"

"Oh, I'm dead serious," he cut you off, his voice low and teasing as his free hand trailed down to your thigh, squeezing gently.

"What's the matter? Can't handle a little distraction?" he murmured against your neck, his voice low and teasing.

You bit your lip, trying to focus on the game, but every inch of your body was hyperaware of his touch, the way his fingers traced patterns against your inner thigh, slowly inching higher. You could feel the heat pooling between your legs, the sensation intensifying with each teasing touch. It was getting harder to keep your eyes on the screen.

"Wonwoo, I swear—" you started, your breath catching in your throat.

But before you could protest further, his hand slid between your legs and grazed on your soaked cunt, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through you. You gasped, the controller slipping from your hands as your body leaned into his touch. The game was the last thing on your mind now. His fingers were careful, deliberate, and oh so teasing as they brushed against your soaked clit, sending waves of pleasure through you that you couldn't escape.

Wonwoo's teasing turned into something deeper, his desire evident in the way he touched you, his movements becoming more urgent as he lifted you slightly to adjust your position.

"Fuck the game," he muttered against your lips, his patience snapping as he pushed you down onto the couch, his body pressing against yours. "You win."

Your head fell back against the couch, the words tumbling from your lips without thought, every part of you overwhelmed by his touch. You couldn't think straight, couldn't even remember what the game was about as he kissed along your neck, moving lower, his hands never leaving you. His lips, warm and insistent, found your skin, marking it with soft bites and caresses that made you shudder.

"Wonwoo... please..." Your voice was thick with need, and you didn't care that he could hear the desperation in it. You wanted him closer, deeper, as your body arched against his, silently begging for more.

He smiled against your neck, a slow, confident grin that made your pulse spike. "You're so fucking beautiful, you know that?"

You let out a soft laugh, though it was shaky, breathless. "Stop teasing me."

"I'm not teasing," he murmured, his fingers slipping inside you, drawing out a sharp gasp from your lips. "I'm giving you exactly what you need."

His thumb circled your clit in rhythmic, deliberate movements as his lips found yours once again, swallowing your moans. It was slow, methodical, each movement pushing you closer to the edge. You could feel the tension building deep in your stomach, the pressure mounting with every stroke of his fingers.

You tangled your hands in his hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss, your body pressing into his as if you were trying to become one. The connection between you felt almost overwhelming, like every touch, every kiss, was laced with raw emotion—desire, yes, but something more.

Something tender.

He pulled away for a moment, his eyes searching yours, intense and unguarded. "Are you okay?" he whispered, his voice soft, filled with genuine concern. It was a question that showed just how much he cared, how much he wanted to make this more than just physical.

Wonwoo positioned the tip of his cock onto the entrance of your pussy.

You nodded, breathless, and smiled up at him. "I'm more than okay."

And with that, he kissed you again, this time with a gentleness that sent a shiver down your spine, before he shoved his dick in you and began moving faster.

The game continued in the background, forgotten, as you surrendered completely to him. And this time, it was different—it wasn't just about the physical, it was about the intimacy, the way you fit together perfectly in that moment.

He groaned softly against your skin, his movements becoming more urgent. "Fuck, you feel so good."

Your hands slid down his chest, your nails grazing lightly over his skin as you urged him on. "Don't stop," you whispered, your voice thick with need. "Please don't stop."

He didn't.

The way he continued thrusting in you felt like a bliss. Every hard slam with his balls slapping your already-soaked ass added to the heat of everything.

The night had been nothing but kisses, gaming, sex, gaming, and sex.

Wonwoo grabbed one of your legs up to get him a better angle before thrusting real hard into you. His heart pounding like never before.

And when it finally came—when that wave of pleasure crashed over you both—it was nothing short of overwhelming. You clung to each other, bodies trembling as the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you tangled together, lost in the moment.

As you both slowly came down from the high, Wonwoo kissed your forehead softly, his breath warm against your skin. "You're incredible," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

"And you're a sore loser," you teased, a playful smirk tugging at your lips even as your heart raced.

He laughed lowly, a sound that made your pulse spike, and leaned down to kiss you again. "Maybe. But I think I'm about to make up for it."

Wonwoo brushed your hair back from your face, his thumb gently grazing your cheek as his dark, smoldering gaze softened. "You know, I wasn't just talking about the game earlier," he murmured, his voice low and intimate.

Your breath caught at the sudden shift in his tone. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you're incredible," he repeated, his fingers tracing along your jawline. "Not just here, not just now. I mean everything about you. You drive me crazy in ways I didn't even know were possible."

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten. For a moment, you didn't know how to respond, the weight of his words sinking deep into your heart. But instead of fumbling for the right thing to say, you cupped his face, brushing your thumb across his cheekbone as you leaned in.

Your kiss was slow and deliberate, a silent answer to the emotions swirling between you. He responded immediately, his lips moving against yours with a mix of tenderness and hunger, as though he wanted to pour every unspoken word into that kiss.

When you pulled back just enough to rest your foreheads together, you whispered, "You mean just as much to me, Wonwoo. Maybe even more."

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against your lips. "That's impossible."

The teasing edge to his voice made you smirk, the playful tension between you rekindling. "Guess we'll have to agree to disagree," you quipped, your fingers gliding down the firm planes of his chest, now bare and warm under your touch.

His lips curved into a wicked grin, his gaze darkening as his hands roamed over your body, reacquainting themselves with every curve. "Still feeling smug, huh? Should I knock you down a peg?"

His hands slid down your sides, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. The sofa creaked beneath you as he shifted his weight, his body pressing more firmly into yours. His fingers trailed lower, tracing lazy circles along your thigh before gripping it and hitching it higher around his waist.

"Smug? No," you teased, your voice breathless. "Just confident."

Wonwoo let out a low laugh, the sound rumbling against your skin. "We'll see about that."

Without warning, he dipped his head, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss that stole the air from your lungs. His tongue teased yours, slow and deliberate, his kisses deep and unrelenting as his hand slid between your legs, his fingers skillfully reigniting the fire that hadn't had time to die down.

You gasped against his mouth, your back arching off the couch as he explored you, his touch knowing and intentional. "Wonwoo," you whimpered, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes filled with desire and something deeper, something raw. "You're so fucking perfect," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he leaned down to kiss you again.

The rhythm of his touch became more insistent, drawing soft moans from you as your fingers dug into his shoulders. He didn't rush—each movement was deliberate, every touch meant to drive you closer to the edge.

"You're driving me crazy," you managed to choke out, your voice trembling with need.

"Good," he muttered, his lips trailing down to your neck, leaving a line of heated kisses as his hand disappeared to adjust himself. "Because you've been driving me insane all night."

Before you could respond, he lined his cock up and pushed into your cunt with one slow, deliberate thrust, your bodies melding together perfectly. Your pussy had already recognized the way his cock seemed to slip in you, it still had you gasping, your nails raking down his back as he buried himself completely, his breath coming out in a shaky groan against your ear.

The pace was slower this time, more intimate, but no less intense. Every thrust was deliberate, his hips rolling into yours as if he wanted to memorize every inch of you. His lips found yours again, silencing your cries as he deepened the kiss, his hands gripping your waist to keep you steady beneath him.

The air between you was thick with heat and unspoken emotions, your bodies moving together as if they'd been made for this—made for each other. His name spilled from your lips in breathless whispers, your hands roaming his back, his chest, desperate to feel more of him.

"Look at me," he demanded softly, his voice strained. When your eyes met his, the intensity in his gaze nearly undid you. "I want to see you. Every part of you."

Your heart ached at the raw vulnerability in his tone, your chest tightening as you reached up to cup his face. "Wonwoo..."

He leaned into your touch, his movements growing more urgent as he chased both your highs, his forehead dropping to rest against yours. "I love this," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the sound of your labored breaths. "I love you."

The words hit you like a wave, and for a moment, everything else faded away—the world, the room, the lingering tension that had always existed between you. There was only him, and the way he made you feel whole.

Your body tensed beneath him, the pleasure building until it finally crested, leaving you trembling and crying out his name. Wonwoo wasn't far behind, his own release crashing over him as he buried himself deep inside you, his groan vibrating against your skin.

For a moment, the room was silent save for the sound of your heavy breathing, your bodies still tangled together on the sofa. Wonwoo shifted slightly, pulling you closer as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

"You win," he muttered, his lips curving into a tired but satisfied smile.

You laughed, the sound light and breathless as you nuzzled into his chest. "Damn right, I do."

He chuckled, his hand trailing lazily down your back. "But you're still wearing my hoodie next time we game," he teased, his voice low and teasing. "You're too distracting without it."

"And you're not?" you shot back, a playful smirk tugging at your lips.

"Fair point," he admitted, his grin widening as he pulled you into another kiss, one filled with unspoken promises and endless possibilities.

You and Wonwoo were still wrapped up in the warmth of each other's embrace, your body pressed snugly against his as you both lay tangled on the sofa. The soft glow of the paused game screen flickered across the room, the controllers forgotten on the floor amidst the aftermath of your intimacy.

Wonwoo's fingers traced lazy patterns along your bare back, his lips occasionally brushing against your forehead in quiet affection. You were just beginning to drift into that blissful post-climactic haze when the sharp sound of a knock broke through the quiet.

"Wonwoo," a familiar voice called from the other side of the door. "I'm here for the CD. Open up."

Your heart dropped into your stomach. "Oh my god," you whispered, your eyes wide as you shot up, scrambling to pull the throw blanket over your completely naked body.

Wonwoo cursed under his breath, sitting up as well. "Shit. I forgot he was coming."

"You forgot?" you hissed, grabbing at the nearest piece of clothing—Wonwoo's hoodie—but realizing it wasn't enough to cover you entirely.

"He said he'd stop by today, but I wasn't exactly thinking about it in the moment!" Wonwoo muttered, running a hand through his messy hair, now tousled from your earlier activities.

Another knock came, this time sharper, with Jeonghan's unmistakable impatience seeping through. "I can hear you in there. Don't make me wait, Wonwoo."

Your eyes met Wonwoo's in a silent panic. He quickly threw on his discarded black t-shirt and sweatpants, his movements hurried but calculated as he adjusted himself to look as composed as possible. Meanwhile, you grabbed the throw blanket and curled up at the corner of the couch, doing your best to look casual despite the unmistakable heat still lingering between you.

Wonwoo opened the door, and there stood Jeonghan, looking as effortless as ever in his beige trench coat and sharp gaze. He didn't bother with pleasantries, stepping into the apartment as if he owned the place.

"I told you I needed the CD back today," Jeonghan said, his tone light but edged with something sharper. His eyes flickered briefly to Wonwoo before scanning the room—and stopping dead when they landed on you.

His gaze narrowed slightly as he took in your disheveled appearance, the way the blanket was draped over you, and the faint blush still coloring your cheeks. "Oh," he said, his voice dipping into a dangerous kind of curiosity.

Wonwoo cleared his throat, trying to draw Jeonghan's attention away. "It's, uh, on the shelf. I'll grab it for you."

Jeonghan didn't move, his sharp eyes now pinned on Wonwoo. "Am I interrupting something?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but no sound came out. Wonwoo, on the other hand, let out a short laugh, scratching the back of his neck. "No, we were just gaming," he lied, but the slight crack in his voice betrayed him.

Jeonghan's brow quirked as he slowly crossed his arms. "Gaming," he repeated, the word dripping with disbelief. His gaze darted back to you, lingering on the blanket and the clear absence of any actual gaming activity.

"It's just a little warm in here," you blurted out, clutching the blanket tighter around yourself.

Jeonghan's lips curved into a faint smirk, but there was no humor in his expression. "Right. Warm."

Wonwoo returned with the CD, holding it out to Jeonghan. "Here. You can go now."

But Jeonghan didn't take it right away. Instead, he stepped closer, his eyes darting between the two of you. "This is the game you wanted to show her, isn't it?" he asked Wonwoo, his tone casual but laced with meaning.

Wonwoo stiffened, his jaw clenching slightly. "Yeah. It is."

Jeonghan let out a soft chuckle, finally taking the CD from Wonwoo's hand. "Took you long enough," he said, turning the case over in his hands. Then, as if suddenly struck by a thought, he glanced back at you.

"You've got good taste in games," Jeonghan remarked, his gaze lingering just a little too long. "I wonder if that extends to... other things."

The air grew heavier, the tension crackling like static electricity as Jeonghan's words hung in the air. You could feel your pulse racing, your hands gripping the edge of the blanket as Wonwoo's posture shifted, his protective instincts kicking in.

"Jeonghan," Wonwoo said, his voice low and warning.

But Jeonghan just smirked, slipping the CD into his coat pocket. "Relax," he said smoothly. "I'm just making an observation."

With that, he turned on his heel and made his way to the door. But just before stepping out, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder. "Enjoy your game," he said, his eyes locking with yours for a moment longer than necessary. Then he was gone, leaving behind an air of unease that neither you nor Wonwoo could shake.

The door had barely clicked shut behind Jeonghan when you exhaled shakily, the weight of his lingering presence still pressing on you. Wonwoo paced in front of the sofa, his jaw tight, and his hands clenched into fists. You could see the storm brewing inside him—frustration, jealousy, and a simmering anger that he was trying to keep under control.

"I should go with him," you blurted out, your voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

Wonwoo stopped dead in his tracks, his head snapping toward you. "What?"

You adjusted the blanket around you, avoiding his eyes. "I need to explain things to him. He knows, Wonwoo. He's not stupid. If I don't clear this up, it's just going to get worse—for all of us."

Wonwoo's expression darkened, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "So, what? You're just going to run after him and... what? Smooth it over with some bullshit excuse? Jeonghan doesn't care about explanations. He's probably already twisting this into whatever narrative suits him best."

You stood, the blanket slipping slightly as you moved to grab Wonwoo's hoodie from the floor. "I can handle him. You know I can."

Wonwoo stepped closer, his voice dropping into a low, urgent tone. "This isn't just about handling him. Do you seriously think he's going to let you walk out of there without digging deeper? Without trying to... to turn this into something else?"

You pulled the hoodie over your head, the familiar scent of Wonwoo enveloping you like a second skin. "And what do you suggest I do? Sit here and let him assume whatever he wants? Let him keep showing up, throwing out veiled threats and smirks until we all lose our minds?"

Wonwoo's hands found your arms, his grip firm but not rough. "You stay. With me. Let him stew in his own suspicions—who cares what he thinks?" His voice softened slightly, his eyes searching yours. "I don't want you to go."

Your chest tightened at the vulnerability in his gaze, but you shook your head. "Wonwoo, this isn't just about us. Jeonghan's your friend, your teammate. If we don't handle this carefully, it's going to blow up in all of our faces. Let me do this. For both of us."

He hesitated, his grip faltering as he weighed your words. Finally, with a frustrated sigh, he let go, stepping back. "Fine. But don't let him manipulate you, okay? He's... he's good at that."

You gave him a small, reassuring smile, though your heart was pounding. "I won't."

With that, you slipped on your shoes and opened the door, stepping out into the hallway where Jeonghan was leaning casually against the wall, as if he'd been waiting. His sharp eyes flicked to you, a hint of amusement tugging at his lips.

"Changed your mind?" he asked, his tone light but his gaze far too calculating for comfort.

"It's late," you said evenly, crossing your arms. "Wonwoo thought it'd be better if I went with you."

Jeonghan's smirk widened as he straightened, pushing off the wall. "Of course he did."

The two of you walked toward the elevator in silence, the air between you thick with unspoken words. It wasn't until you were both inside, the doors sliding shut, that Jeonghan finally broke the quiet.

"So," he said, his voice smooth and deliberate. "How long has this been going on?"

You turned to him, your expression carefully neutral. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Jeonghan chuckled, shaking his head. "Come on. Give me some credit. The disheveled look, the way you wouldn't meet my eyes, Wonwoo acting like a deer caught in headlights—do you really think I don't know?"

You swallowed hard, your grip tightening on the strap of your bag. "It's none of your business, Jeonghan."

He stepped closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming in the small space. "See, that's where you're wrong. It is my business—because whatever's happening between you two is already affecting him. And if it affects him, it affects me."

You met his gaze head-on, refusing to back down. "What do you want from me, Jeonghan? An apology? Fine. I'm sorry if this complicates things for you, but it's not your place to judge."

Jeonghan's expression shifted, the smirk fading as something darker flickered in his eyes. "I'm not judging," he said quietly, his voice almost too calm. "I'm warning you. Wonwoo's not the only one who knows how to play games."

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open, breaking the tension. Jeonghan stepped out first, turning back to look at you with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Let's see how well you handle this, hmm?"

As you stepped out of the elevator with Jeonghan, you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, studying every shift in your expression. The silence stretched as you walked toward the parking lot, your nerves taut with anticipation.

When Jeonghan finally spoke, his voice was as smooth as ever, but there was a sharpness underneath. "You know, I almost didn't come by tonight. Figured I'd give you two more time to... bond."

You stiffened, but kept your voice steady. "You're reading too much into this."

He hummed, unlocking his car with a casual flick of his wrist. "Am I? You're wearing his hoodie. That doesn't exactly scream subtle, does it?"

You glanced down at the fabric, suddenly hyperaware of how it clung to you, still warm with the scent of Wonwoo. "It's just a hoodie, Jeonghan."

He opened the passenger door for you, his smirk returning as he gestured for you to get in. "Right. Just a hoodie."

The ride was quiet at first, the hum of the engine filling the space between you. Jeonghan didn't push, didn't prod—he just let the silence stretch, knowing it would fray your nerves more than words ever could.

Finally, he broke it with a question that felt more like a trap. "Did he tell you about the game?"

You frowned, caught off guard. "What game?"

Jeonghan chuckled, shaking his head as he turned onto the main road. "The one he's been obsessing over for weeks. The one he wanted to show you."

Your breath hitched. Of course. The CD. You hadn't even realized it was the same one he'd been talking about that night.

Jeonghan noticed your reaction immediately, his smirk widening. "Guess not. Too busy with... other things, I suppose."

You shot him a sharp look. "If you've got something to say, just say it, Jeonghan."

He pulled into a small café, the kind that stayed open late, and parked the car. Turning to you, he leaned against the steering wheel, his dark eyes locking onto yours. "What's your endgame here?"

The question caught you off guard. "What are you talking about?"

He tilted his head, his gaze unrelenting. "With Wonwoo. With me. With whatever this is. You're playing a dangerous game, sweetheart, and I'm not sure you even realize it."

You bristled at his tone, but before you could respond, he got out of the car, motioning for you to follow. Inside the café, the dim lighting and soft hum of conversation provided a strange sense of calm, though the tension between you and Jeonghan remained electric.

Over steaming cups of coffee, he leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he studied you. "You're trying to fix this, aren't you? Trying to keep everyone happy, keep the peace. But you've already made your choice."

You frowned, his words cutting deeper than you wanted to admit. "And what choice is that?"

Jeonghan's smile was slow, calculated. "You stayed with him. You didn't run when I walked in. That says a lot."

Your grip tightened on your mug, the heat seeping into your skin. "It's not that simple."

"Isn't it?" he countered, his gaze piercing. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you've already picked a side. You just don't want to admit it."

Before you could respond, your phone buzzed on the table. Wonwoo's name lit up the screen, and Jeonghan's eyes flicked to it, a hint of amusement tugging at his lips.

"Speak of the devil," he murmured, leaning back in his chair.

You hesitated, your heart pounding as you reached for the phone. But before you could answer, Jeonghan's hand shot out, his fingers brushing against yours as he slid the phone away.

"Let him wait," he said softly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You stared at him, caught between frustration and something you couldn't quite name. "What are you trying to do, Jeonghan?"

He smiled, slow and deliberate. "Just testing the waters. Seeing how far you'll go to protect him—or yourself."

As the tension in the café thickened, your fingers twitched, itching to pick up the phone, but Jeonghan's grip on it was firm, his fingers brushing against yours just a second too long, sending a jolt of something through you. His eyes locked onto yours, almost daring you to make a move.

"Jeonghan, let me answer," you said, your voice quieter than you meant it to be, the frustration barely masked by the cool facade you were trying to hold up.

He raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a faint, knowing smirk. "Why? So you can pretend everything's fine with him? That you're not tangled up in this mess already?"

You swallowed, the words stinging more than you wanted to admit. His eyes were practically burning into yours, waiting for a crack, a sign of weakness. And before you could stop yourself, you found yourself speaking before thinking.

"You don't understand," you said, your voice low but steady. "This isn't about choosing sides. It's about—"

"About what?" Jeonghan interrupted, cutting you off smoothly, leaning forward with a gleam in his eyes. "Tell me. Is it about keeping everything under control? Because, trust me, darling, I can see it. You think you have all the power, don't you? But you're just as tangled in this as the rest of us."

His words sliced through the air, and you froze, the weight of them settling like a heavy blanket around you. You didn't know how to respond, how to argue against what he was saying. It was hard not to feel like he was right—like you were walking a tightrope between both of them, trying to balance something you didn't even know you wanted.

Just then, your phone buzzed again—this time, Wonwoo's name lighting up the screen, flashing with urgency. The phone vibrated against the table, the sound loud in the silence. You reached for it without thinking, but Jeonghan's hand was faster.

His fingers wrapped around your wrist, stilling you. His grip was gentle but firm, and for a moment, you couldn't move. You looked at him, your pulse quickening at the proximity. The tension between you two felt like it was about to snap.

"Don't answer," Jeonghan whispered, leaning in, his breath hot against your ear. "Let him wonder. Let him feel what it's like to be on the outside for once."

You inhaled sharply, your breath catching in your throat at how close he was. His thumb traced lightly across your skin, sending a wave of heat through your body. And even though you knew you should pull away, there was something magnetic about his touch, something that made you question everything you thought you knew about loyalty and desire.

But before you could fully process the moment, the door to the café swung open, and the sound of footsteps echoed across the room.

Wonwoo.

You felt your heart skip a beat as your gaze shot to him, standing at the entrance, his eyes immediately locking onto yours. His expression was unreadable, his jaw clenched tight, but you could see the storm brewing behind his eyes.

"Jeonghan," he said, voice low, like a warning. "You're not—"

But Jeonghan wasn't fazed. He didn't even look up, still holding onto your wrist with a gentle but insistent pressure. "I'm just making sure we're all on the same page. Aren't we, sweetheart?" he purred, eyes flicking over to Wonwoo.

Wonwoo's nostrils flared, his gaze flickering to you, his eyes softening just a fraction before hardening again. "Let go of her."

You could feel the tension snap like a live wire, the air between the three of you crackling with something you couldn't quite put into words. Jeonghan's smile didn't falter as he finally released your wrist, but there was something dangerous in the way he looked at Wonwoo.

"Why don't you take a seat, Wonwoo? We were just talking about how much of a mess all of this is. Don't you think it's time you joined the conversation?"

Wonwoo stepped forward, his fists clenched, but you could see the war raging in his mind—between walking away and confronting Jeonghan right there, in front of you. His voice was low, his patience wearing thin. "This isn't your business."

"Isn't it?" Jeonghan said with a cold chuckle. "You're both tangled in something you can't even control. You think this is some kind of game, but it's not. It's real. And now... the question is, which one of you will claim what's already slipping through your fingers?"

Your heart hammered in your chest, caught between the two of them, the world spinning as the air in the café seemed to close in around you. You wanted to scream, to stop this madness, but something inside you told you this was just the beginning of something bigger, something that would tear all of you apart.

With Wonwoo standing there, muscles tense, his eyes burning with something unspoken, and Jeonghan smiling like the puppeteer he was, you realized that no matter what choice you made next, nothing would ever be the same again.

The drive home was silent, save for the hum of the car engine and the occasional shift in the seats. Wonwoo didn't say anything, and neither did you. You were both still processing what had happened—the tension between you, Jeonghan's unexpected arrival, and the fact that everything felt like it was teetering on the edge of something much bigger.

When you arrived home, Wonwoo parked the car in the driveway but didn't immediately turn off the engine. He glanced over at you, his face soft but burdened.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice quieter than usual.

You nodded, even though you weren't sure if you were. "I'm fine," you muttered, but it was more for his sake than anything.

He reached over, placing a hand on yours, his thumb rubbing gently over your skin. "You don't have to pretend for me, you know."

You felt the weight of his words. The evening had shifted something in you, and you weren't sure where it was leading. "I just... don't know what to do about Jeonghan. Or us." Your voice trailed off, heavy with the unsaid.

Wonwoo sighed, a mixture of frustration and understanding in his eyes. "It's not easy," he admitted. "But I'm here for you. Always."

You leaned against his shoulder, closing your eyes, trying to gather your thoughts. After a long moment, you finally spoke again, your voice small. "I don't want to lose either of you."

Wonwoo didn't answer at first, but when he did, it was with such a quiet certainty that it made your heart race. "You won't. Just... let me figure things out with you."

He walked you to your door, giving you a soft kiss on the forehead before heading back to his car, leaving you standing in the doorway, lost in the silence.

The Next Day at Work:

The office felt colder than usual when you arrived. Your heart sank as soon as you saw Jeonghan. He didn't even acknowledge you. It wasn't like him to ignore you, but there he was, sitting at his desk, completely absorbed in his work.

You walked toward him, hoping to get a word in. "Jeonghan?" you asked quietly, trying to catch his attention.

He didn't look up, and the coldness in his demeanor made your chest tighten. "Busy," he said curtly, not even sparing you a glance.

The sting of his indifference hit harder than you expected. You stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. Were you supposed to apologize? Or was it something else? Before you could gather the courage to say anything more, Wonwoo appeared, stepping between you and Jeonghan.

"Hey," Wonwoo said, his voice calm but firm, a protective stance around you. "You should go take a break, Y/N. I'll handle things here."

You blinked, feeling both grateful and conflicted. But as you walked away, you couldn't shake the feeling that everything between the three of you had shifted in ways you couldn't fix overnight.

Later That Day:

You were sitting in the break room when Wonwoo found you, a cup of coffee in hand. He slid into the chair next to you, not saying anything at first. The silence between you felt familiar but different now.

"Jeonghan's... not speaking to me," you said, the words coming out before you could stop them. "I don't know what to do."

Wonwoo leaned in, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. "You don't have to fix everything right now," he murmured. "Take it slow. Let him come around, if he does. But I'm here for you."

You rested your head on his shoulder, trying to let the comfort of his presence sink in. Despite the chaos of the situation, there was a small part of you that felt safe in his arms.

The next day at work felt like stepping into a different dimension. Jeonghan’s presence had always been a constant—a mix of charm and sharp remarks that kept you on your toes—but now, it was as if he’d built an invisible wall around himself.

You caught sight of him as soon as you walked into the office. He was leaning against the desk near the window, flipping through some documents, but his eyes didn’t so much as glance in your direction. Normally, he’d throw in a sly comment or even a teasing smirk just to annoy you. Today? Nothing.

You tried not to let it bother you, but as the hours ticked by, his cold shoulder was impossible to ignore. He barely acknowledged your presence during the team meeting, speaking only when necessary and directing his comments to everyone but you. The tension was palpable, and it made concentrating on your tasks a Herculean effort.

By lunchtime, you’d had enough. As he stood by the coffee machine, you approached cautiously, your heart pounding in your chest. “Jeonghan,” you began, your voice softer than you intended. “Can we talk?”

He didn’t look up right away. When he finally did, his expression was unreadable, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something distant and closed off. “I’m busy,” he replied curtly, turning his attention back to his coffee cup.

The words stung more than you wanted to admit, but you weren’t about to give up. “Please,” you pressed, stepping closer. “I know something’s wrong. Can we at least clear the air?”

Jeonghan sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly as he set his cup down. For a moment, it looked like he might relent, but then he shook his head. “There’s nothing to talk about,” he said, his tone clipped. “Just focus on your work.”

His words were like a slap to the face. You blinked, struggling to keep your composure. “If this is about Wonwoo—”

“Don’t,” he interrupted sharply, his gaze finally locking onto yours. His eyes, usually so warm and full of mischief, were cold and piercing now. “Don’t bring him into this.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You felt a lump form in your throat, but you swallowed it down, refusing to let yourself break in front of him. “Fine,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “If that’s how you want it.”

The silence between you and Jeonghan was as heavy as the weight in your chest. His hands remained tucked into the pockets of his tailored coat, his jaw tight, his gaze somewhere beyond you. For a second, you thought he’d finally say something, but he only let out a quiet exhale, the faintest fog of breath forming in the cold air.

You took a hesitant step forward. “Jeonghan,” you started, your voice trembling, unsure if it was from the cold or the overwhelming tension. “I don’t—” You bit down on your lip, searching for words that wouldn’t make things worse. “I don’t know what you’re thinking right now, but I just need you to hear me out.”

His gaze flickered to yours, sharp and guarded, but he didn’t speak.

Your stomach churned. “It wasn’t—” You struggled, the words tangling in your throat. “It’s not what you think it is.”

Jeonghan’s laugh was bitter, sharp like the snap of a twig underfoot. “Isn’t it?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. The question hung in the air, daring you to answer.

“I—” Your voice faltered, and for the first time, you felt the hot prick of tears welling in your eyes. You blinked them away, refusing to cry now—not here, not in front of him. But the lump in your throat grew heavier.

Jeonghan’s expression hardened. “You’re unbelievable,” he said quietly, his tone devoid of the usual playfulness or charm you associated with him. It stung more than you cared to admit. “Do you even realize what you’re doing?”

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “Jeonghan, please, you have to believe me. I never wanted to hurt anyone. Especially not you.”

For a moment, his mask slipped. His eyes softened, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the man who used to tease you with sly smiles and effortless charm. But just as quickly, the vulnerability disappeared, replaced by that same cold, distant stare.

“I don’t think it matters what you wanted,” he said finally, his voice low, almost pained. “Because it’s already happened.” He shook his head and took a step back, the distance between you growing in more ways than one. “I need to go.”

“Jeonghan, wait—”

But he was already turning away, the echo of his footsteps fading into the night. You stood there, frozen, the tears you had fought so hard to hold back finally spilling over.

The sound of a door creaking open pulled you out of your daze. You turned to see Wonwoo leaning against the doorframe, his expression unreadable as he took in the scene. He didn’t say anything, just held out a hand, inviting you back inside.

You hesitated for a moment, staring at his outstretched hand. Then, with a deep, shaky breath, you walked back toward him, allowing the warmth of his presence to envelope you as he pulled you inside.

He didn’t ask what happened, didn’t push for answers. Instead, he guided you to the couch, wrapping you in a blanket and sitting beside you. His hand found yours, his fingers lacing through yours as if to remind you that, no matter what, he was here.

The silence was comforting this time, a stark contrast to the tension that had followed Jeonghan’s departure. But even as Wonwoo’s thumb brushed gently over your knuckles, offering a quiet kind of reassurance, you couldn’t shake the lingering ache in your chest.

Because no matter how warm Wonwoo’s touch was, no matter how safe you felt beside him, the rift between you, Jeonghan, and Wonwoo was something that wouldn’t heal easily.

And deep down, you weren’t sure if it ever could.

an: ik its way too dramatic but lmao. you stayed till the end you definitely deserve an award. iloveyou.

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