#dom pedro II

[cptjingo]

funny comic i sketched in like 2022 but let it gather dust, I only finished it now. Why?

funy

[tita-ferreira]

[tompoose]

A happy little Dom Pedro II, giving you a thumbs up

[the-random-sentence-library]

"They then distributed copies of the document throughout the hall and, not being arrested as they expected, adjourned to Independence Square, where Anthony read the declaration to a crowd."

Quote randomly selected from page 240 of Barbara A. White's nonfiction book The Beecher Sisters.

Additional notes: "They" refers to women's rights advocate Susan B. Anthony and four other women from the National Women's Studies Association. "The document" is a declaration of women's rights. "The hall" is Independence Hall in Philadelphia, which on July 4, 1876, the one hundredth anniversary of United States Independence. The NWSA was not allowed to speak at the event, so during the highly controversial guest of honor speech from Brazilian emperor Dom Pedro II, Anthony distributed the aforementioned documents to the attending audience. Based.

Quote was selected at random from a book chosen at random from my local library.

[vespirita]

1031 - Consciência Negra com Maria Alice, Valéria Barbosa e Yuri Nisizaka

Olá caro(a) Vivenciano(a) e leitor(a) do nosso site, Paz e Alegria no seu coração. Neste programa tratamos o tema “Consciência Negra” com Maria Alice, Valéria Barbosa e Yuri Nisizaka são tarefeiros do Senzala dos Pretos Velhos @senzaladospretosvelhos. 👉INSCREVA-SE EM NOSSO CANAL📺 Clique aqui para se inscrever✔ DEIXE SEU LIKE✔ E ative o 🔔 para não perder os nossos vídeos. A princípio, aqui você…

[cherryinterlude]

acacius: you should be addicted to shutting the fuck up

geta: you wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid

[where-the-sabia-sings]

Like you have this pre teen bby girl recently new nation dealing with the abandonment of her first emperor and stuck with a literal baby as future promise of a boss. She practically grew up with that boy! They both went to have the same teachers, went to same lessons on fucking French and latin, had to learn all those Eurocentric things because that’s how a new nation has to do to impress the world (read Europe) and both were guided by Bonifácio

But now the boy has been crowned emperor, he has no time to play anymore and while succession crisis to deal with and she’s full with rebellions everywhere and there’s the biggest problem that pedrinho refuses to deal with: the slavery

( I also want to make a especially topic about how both pedrinho and Manu perspectives during the Paraguay War and how their greed for power transformed a regional conflict into the biggest bloodshed ever witnessed in South America)

in the end, D. Pedro died exiled, away from his land, from the nation that he practically grew up together resulted from his many mistakes and bloodshed he inflicted during his reign and now Manuela has to recover him back to her now in a coffin.

I also want to make more posts about Manuela’s passionate brotherly relationship, whatever the hell she had it with Pedrinho (D. Pedro II)

[pedrosman]

"Let them see."

pairing: Pedro Pascal x male reader

summary: You and Pedro are on the set of Gladiator 2, but he pulls you away for some time alone.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, Pedro Pascal RPF (real person fiction), unprotected sex, bot! reader, first person, p in a, kissing, swearing, anal, fingering, hand over mouth, analingus, creampie, public sex, partial nudity, dom Pedro, sub reader, aggressive, overstimulation, hickeys, fake blood

word count: just under 4000

A/N: I tried writing with "you" instead of "I" for this one. Let me know how it reads and what you prefer!!

By midday, you were done with the sweltering heat in Morocco. The sun’s ever-beaming presence had forced your energy into a restless state, unable to do anything but sweat as you watched Pedro work, seemingly oblivious to the sun's downpour of heat onto the Earth. His film, Gladiator II, had placed him in an extremely demanding state; his scenes today consisting heavily of action, fighting energetically and unapologetically. Sure, he was drenched with sweat, but his energy didn’t drop a tick, working with determination. You felt bad, his costume a thick, heavy, black leather suit of armour. You could not fathom how he hadn’t fallen unconscious by now. 

Finally, after a particularly bloody fight scene, leaving him drenched in fake blood, the directors called a break. Immediately, you moved towards him, following behind as he and the other actors moved towards their tents, accumulating in the largest and coolest one. Slipping inside, you moved towards Pedro, locating him through his loud and wheezing laugh, until you found him with his back turned, speaking to a few people working on the film. You stood there for a few seconds, unwanting to have to force yourself into conversation with people you barely know. It was awkward, hovering around on set, waiting around for Pedro. But it was worth it. He was worth it. The way he made you smile and laugh every time he spotted you and pulled a discreet but low-key obvious face at you made up for all the hours of standing around in pools of sweat. 

You watched as he spoke energetically with the others, laughing freely, unconstrained in demeanour. His presence brooded comfort, and slowly, you made your way closer towards Pedro, reaching out and grabbing his hand. You felt his body shift and turn until he was looking down at you, his height and broad shoulders encompassing your entire eyesight. Immediately, his smile welled into a large grin, the sides of his eyes crinkling, full of glee. Pedro pulled you into a hug, enwrapping your body with his, chuckling into your ear.

“I missed you,” he said, smiling down at your face. You felt your cheeks blush, holding his hand sheepishly. He gripped it tighter, pulling you near him. He smelt like he usually did, but new notes of leather from his outfit, and a small plastic scent from the fake blood. His eyes stared into yours, deep, affectionate, and wanting. You felt his thumb run over the top of your hand, focusing completely on you, the world a void around you. Sounds were impermanent, passing around you like a thick oil. You were ensheathed, engrossed, devoted to Pedro.

“Can I show you a place?” He asked, his voice hopeful. “It’s not far, I promise.”

“Okay.”

—--

He pulled you into a small alcove in the current set, hidden from the general view of anyone who might pass by. He had dragged you across the set despite your cries of protest in disrupting the space, promising that nothing bad would happen. Exposed under the heat, you couldn’t help in your sun-drunk state but stare at the flash of his bare thighs underneath his leather belt, the cords rippling around his figure, gifting a flew glances of bare skin. They entranced you, teasing your already semi-hard penis. In the alcove, you were hidden from the sun, but it was bright enough to see Pedro. He laid back against the stone wall, his costume engrossing him into the space, and you watched as his chest heaved, his shoulders heavy from the heat. 

“Im not wearing anything under this,” he said, his head still tilted upwards but his eyes downwards, searching you. “The heat is unbearable.”

“I can tell,” you say, moving closer to him, resting your hands on his waist.

“Fuck. Is it that noticeable?” Pedro says, eyes wide, suddenly aware of his partial nudity.

“Only to me,” you whisper, leaning up to his ear. He places his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him. Your hips are touching, his firm grip on you locking you in place. Slowly, he dips his head, moving his lips closer to you. Pedro’s lips tease you, grazing against yours in the proximity.

“I’m only for you.”

Pedro’s soft whisper of confirmation breaks the barrier of your lips, cascading you with lust. Fervently, you and Pedro press into each other, tongues dancing, sending small shocks into your body. You moan into him, your mouth pressing into his with desperation. Your body felt fuzzy, your senses dwarfed by Pedro’s intoxicating presence. You were drunk on him, engorged with him. He made out with fury, his dark beard scratching into your skin, its coarse ends stabbing into you in the best possible way. His moustache pressed into your top lip, pushing your skin into the perfect mould. 

You could taste the fake blood that had settled on the left side of his lip, it’s plastic taste pulling you away.

The departure of your lips against his left Pedro bewildered, his shocked face almost comical in his costume.

“What's wrong?” He whispered, and you noticed how his eyes gleamed in the shadows, the dark hazel tint rebounding the sun's glow off the floor.

“The blood. I don’t want to smudge it.” You whisper, suddenly aware of the context that surrounds you. This felt wrong, but Pedro was so good.

“Who cares?” he replied, a small smile lining his face. He stepped closer, pushing you lightly onto the cold stone wall behind you. Its chill sent a rush throughout your body, a stark contrast to the heat that surrounded you. His hand pressed against your shoulder kept you in place, his dominant presence chipping away at your dignity, forcing you to submit. You watched as he ran a finger across his face, coating his finger in the fake blood that had either mixed with your saliva or his sweat. You let out a small protest and he began tracing his finger across your face, staining your skin with the fake blood.

“Let them see.”

He kissed you with a fury, his entire body pressing into you, overpowering you. You could do nothing but attempt to keep up, his tongue pressing into yours with a vigour. He growled into you as he rubbed his body over yours, grinding his waist into your stomach. Even through the leather that dotted his thighs, you could feel the straining hard-on that he burdened. His hand cupped your chin, pulling your face into his as you kissed. They were sweaty, but he gripped you with a firm passion, his fingertips branding your skin with deep red marks from how tightly he held onto your face. Pedro’s eyes were closed, wholly engrossed with your lips. He growled as you made out, the animalistic noise making your knees weak, and you found yourself struggling to stay upright.

 It felt as if there was a supernatural presence pushing you down to your knees, head parallel to Pedro’s cock. As he let you move lower down his body, you admired how Pedro looked as General Acacius. The black outfit, the aggressive appearance, it was too much. Paired with how easily you submit to Pedro, he was astoundingly breathtaking. He looked perfect. Just the sight of him made your cock throb in your shorts, and it throbbed even harder when you pressed a gentle hand onto the bulge of the leather tunic. It responded in excitement, bouncing at your touch, grinding into your hand.

 Desperately, you pawed through the leather strips, feeling for his cock. The leather was heavy, weighing into your hand, but his cock pushed them upwards, acting as a rest for the strips. You pushed blindly, but even a blind man could have easily located his cock. Touching the underside of his member, you revelled in its sheer size, its length and extreme girth. Your soft touch sent shivers across Pedro’s body, his head bowing, staring at the top of your head. Wrapping your hand around as much of his member as you could, you felt his body release a deep exhale. As you began stroking achingly slow, Pedro began to sweat even more, his forehead furrowed and glistening. Within the tunic, your hand was clammy, and your movements across his cock become more slick by the second. Moving your hand, you cupped his balls. They hung low from his body, you could tell, but their weight relayed the fact that Pedro had been without an orgasm for days, waiting for you, waiting for this. Pedro was always exhausted by the end of a shoot day, so, at midday, he still had the libido you were accustomed to. 

With a necessity, you pushed at the leather strips, leaving his cock exposed in the dim light. The sight of his throbbing, glossy member sent a shiver directly to your cock, practically tearing at the seams of your shorts. Pedro’s dick was leaking precum like a geyser, coating his head, running down the underside of his piece. You admired how it throbbed with fury, its weight pulling his uncut tip downwards, practically begging for your mouth. Complying with Pedro’s obvious need, you placed your lips on his tip, tasting his precum as if it were a Michelin-star meal. Its sweet flavour swirled across your lips as he throbbed, and you smiled as you lowered your head down his cock. The heavy grunts that emanated from Pedro’s body above drove you further, pushing you deeper. You were eager to swallow all of him, no matter how badly his size made your jaw ache. You felt yourself choking as you tried to take him all in your mouth, but you pushed deeper, struggling to keep your breath regulated. You huffed his scent the closer you got to his waist, the tips of his pubic hair tickling your nose.

 Above you, Pedro struggled to remain quiet, aware of his location, but unable to hinder his noises from your mouth around his cock. He let out a succession of moans, low and hoarse. He was sweating profusely, the fake blood running down his face, his hair becoming more matted by the second. He watched your struggle in a darkened awe, watching your willingness to please him. He watched as you struggled to breathe, sparking an animalistic joy within him. Pedro’s eyes were dark, fueled by lust and hunger. You were his prey, and he was ready to absolutely wreck you.

Pulling your head off his cock, spools of spit covered the distance between the tip of his member and your lips. You gathered your composure, air finally flowing back into your lungs again.

“Did I tell you to stop?”

Looking up at Pedro, you noticed how much his demeanour had changed. Instead of the cheery, easygoing person that was publicly fronted, you now saw him: A sex-driven, lustful beast. His breath was heavy and short, and his eyes were sharp, unsympathetic. 

“Did I tell you to stop?” He repeated, his voice heavier, no longer asking. Demanding.

Immediately, you wrapped your lips around his cock, and lowered your face down his cock. You began sucking with a need, sucking your cheeks in, running your tongue on the underside of his girth, tracing intricate patterns, invisible letters of devotion.

His sudden grip on your short hair locked you in place. He was rough, pushing you down his cock in a fluid motion. Pedro had entrapped you, his hands restricting unwanted movement. Your lips could not leave his cock. 

Pedro began to move your head with a rhythm, rocking your head up and down his as if it were an object. You struggled to adjust to his speed, but you revelled in the way he easily overpowered you. You could taste the sweat that lined his skin, a salt flavour that contrasted with his sweet precum nicely. He hit the back of your throat with a satisfying push, his cock’s rock-hard state breaking your throat into his shape. You moaned in symphony with Pedro, your mind fazed from the heat, and your body intoxicated with his taste. He began to thrust himself, filling your mouth with his member. He pushed against the back of your mouth, teasing your gag reflex, muffling your moans with his cock. He thrust into you desperately, jacking his cock off with your face. His hands were tight around your head, his sweat matting your hair, locking itself around his hands. His cock was relentless, hitting the back of your throat with a driving force, fucking up your jaw. It ached, but you pushed past the feeling, absorbing his precum and getting high off his sweaty musk, overpowering from his hours of work in the heat.

 Pedro’s thrusts quickly increased in pace as he huffed heavily above you, the noises not coming to fruition, stuck at the back of his throat. He was hoarse, his noises dry and stifled, but he fucked you with rage, the leather tassels slapping into your face with disregard.

Suddenly, his cock left your mouth completely as his body tensed up. You felt his thighs clench, holding off his orgasm, as his cock throbbed, bouncing in the warm air. The veins were dark, his cock head a deep purple.

“Turn Around.”

As soon as you stood up, he pushed you against the cold wall and yanked at your shorts until they fell to the ground. Harshly, he dug at your hole through your briefs, applying deep pressure, making your body shiver. Your cock felt heavy, straining at your briefs, creating a damp tent. You jumped as he ran his hand down the waistband of your briefs, running his fingers over your asscheek, brushing up against your hole. Pulling away your briefs, he left your entire backside exposed, your hole winking up at him, desperate, needy. 

Pedro’s stubble against your bare skin felt insane. The coarse ends scratched at your sensitivity, and you gasped when you felt his tongue run over your hole. He toyed with you, savouring his treat with delight. He kissed your hole passionately, his soft lips a burning sensation that spread directly into the head of your member. His tongue darted in and out tentatively, willing moans of desire from the back of your throat. You whimpered into him, knees weak, as he slowly began stretching you out, his tongue pushing deep, sometimes replaced with a finger, sometimes two. Pedro was deliberate to avoid your prostate, having fucked you too many times that he knew exactly where to please you. He wanted you to feel it all when his cock was balls deep inside you, not just his fingers. But still, the mere presence of Pedro made you insanely close to orgasm, your entire body a loosely contained tingle. You felt like you were high, his roughened hands pushing into you, prepping you for a thorough fuck.

Feeling him move behind you, you timidly began to turn your top, arching to look at him. But before you could even lock eyes, you felt Pedro thrust his entire length into you. The sudden presence pushed your body into the wall, too weak to do anything but take it. He thrust slowly, willing a small moan out of your body. You felt the heat rush up to your face, being so close to complete visibility. Your entire body shook, unprepared for his length, for the heat that rose into your stomach. You could feel his cock resting on your prostate, prompting small moans with every small jerk of movement from Pedro’s body. As his thrusts pushed deeper, rubbing along your prostate, you couldn't help but moan wildly, your cock throbbing with each grind of his cock. 

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stifle the noises streaming out of your mouth like a desperate plea, bouncing around your hideaway, reverberating out into the world. You whimpered, extremely aware of your state, half-clothed, with Pedro balls deep inside you, fucking you into oblivion. He, on the other hand, was cold, controlled. His moans were mere whispers, promises of confirmation, paired with the unmistakable sound of his balls slapping against your skin.

His hand over your mouth felt like a blessing. He pulled your head back, your back arched as he fucked you. Your hands left the wall, instead moving to your cock, but he slapped them away. Instead, you resorted to grabbing his arm in front of your face, weighing on it as if it were a piece of debris in an open sea. Your knees were weak, your legs numb as he pounded you, desperately gripping his arm, keeping you from falling.

His cock was relentless, pushing at your inner walls with the rage of his role. He attacked you methodically, his tempo unwavering. His moans into your ear were blindingly hot, the low growl moving directly into your throbbing cock. You pulsed with an urgency, jolted by each thrust against your prostate. His cock pushed into your inner walls forcefully, his heat burning his shape into you, like a wax mould. 

You moaned into his hand desperately, your breathing heavy and stifled. Pedro’s thrusts were deep, intertwining your bodies in a hushed chorus, a coveted sermon of lust. You loved being his, being used in this way, even if it meant risking your dignity. With every move of his cock reaching inside you, it felt like a promise. You were completely his. He owned you. And he definitely took advantage of that. Every glance at you on set had caused your cock to stir, his presence alone making you weak at the knees. And now he was knee-deep inside you, making you completely crumble under his hand.

His thrusts increased in speed, making your state even more dire. Your cock bounced wildly, thrown about by his movements in par with yours. Your thighs were locked together, tensed as you desperately held back your orgasm. Pedro’s small grunts had increased in volume, his movements more driven, more intense. He cursed into your ear, degrading you into his bitch, his slut, and you whimpered in agreement, too entranced by your pleasure to even comprehend what he said.  The sudden pressure from his lips on your neck threw you back to reality, the small pain of him latching himself onto you. He began to brand your skin with small bruises as he pummeled into you, closening his orgasm.

His hot kisses on your neck felt like a searing iron, the pain driving you closer to your limit. Between moans, you pleaded to Pedro, but his firm grip over your mouth left your words incomprehensible. He fucked you wildly, his cock a sledgehammer inside you, tearing at your walls, breaking down what little composure you had left. You were so close, and each thrust pulled you further away from reality. You didn’t feel anything but his cock driving into you and his attack on your neck, and you screamed against his hand in pleasure.

Nearing your orgasm, you felt his presence inside you even more, pushing into your lust-driven state, until you burst.

Your entire body shook, your cock bucking wildly as your hot white semen splattered onto the floor. Your back arched with ferocity, Pedro’s member still ramming into you. You felt your inner walls pulsate around his cock, its rock-hard state still pushing into your prostate, provoking a sixth splatter of come, then a seventh, then an eighth. You cried out, your fingers digging into his arm desperately. Your legs shook with the strength of your orgasm, and how Pedro still endlessly fucked your hole. Your chest heaved, desperate for breath, your synapses firing on overdrive, your body unable to comprehend even more pleasure from Pedro’s movements. Each kiss on your neck overtook your body as each of his speedy and lengthy thrusts transported you away from reality.

Suddenly, his hands moved away from your mouth, pushing your noises into the open. Instead, his hands moved to your waist, and Pedro began pulling your body into his cock even more. His thrusts had become lightspeed, pushing into you with an urgency. Your moans, now unfiltered and raw, drove him even further, and you felt his thighs clench with one final thrust.

He exploded deep within you with a low succession of howls, his seed filling every tiny crevice inside you. You cried out as you felt him seep into you, his cock throbbing, pushing at the sides of your ass. It pumped into you, impregnating you, leaking down the sides of his member.

Pedro pulled out, leaving your hole gaping, winking up at him as his semen fell down your skin, pooling at the underside of your ballsack. You whimpered as he pushed a finger inside you, admiring his efforts. You were completely loose, empty without him inside you.

Standing upwards fully, you practically fell into him, your legs numb. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. Looking up at Pedro, your lips met with contention. You made out slowly, entranced, stunned. His seed dripped from you, his heat departing with it, leaving you empty.

“Shooting in 5 minutes!” someone called behind you, tensing your entire body and his. Turning around, you were stunned to see a group of workers not even fifty steps away from you, oblivious to you and Pedro. If they really looked, you were sure that they would be able to see at least half of your body. The lack of clothing on your end would not be the best look, so you hurriedly set about getting dressed, his seed still dripping from you, hickeys across your neck, fake blood stained onto your face. 

Pedro chucked at the sight of you. He pulled you back into him, his hair a mess, undoubtedly a similarity to yours, and pressed a soft kiss against your lips.

“Let them see.” He said, his words a mere whisper. You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, timid in Pedro’s presence.

“Let them see,” He repeated, his eyes locked onto yours. And you did. For the rest of the day, the fake blood strewn across your face remained, raising a few eyebrows, especially when a few others saw the chain of hickeys across your neck. You revelled in it, the coveted romance between you and Pedro. People could speculate, but only you and Pedro really knew. You were his toy, and he wanted everyone to know that you were taken.

[andy-15-07]

I’ve been looking for a soft dom Joel miller fic where the reader just gave birth like after the six weeks period is up with a hint of lactation kink just a smidge you know?

Milk & Devotion

PAIRING:Joel Miller x reader

WORD COUNT: 11273| requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist | Pedro Pascal Masterlist II

You shift in the warmth of your bed, fingers splayed across the soft cotton sheet. Morning light filters through the curtains, painting the room in gentle gold. Your body feels different,stronger, healing,but still tender in places. It’s been six weeks since your son’s born, and every day brings a new sense of awe at his existence... and a new tingle of anticipation at what comes after.

From the doorway, Joel watches you, eyes dark with love and something more. His broad shoulders fill the frame, his hand resting casually on the doorjamb. In one fluid motion, he crosses the room and slides onto the bed behind you, his chest warm against your back.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his breath warm at your neck.

You close your eyes, leaning back into him. “Morning.” Your voice is soft, sleepy. You twist to press a kiss to his jaw. “How’d you sleep?”

“Like a rock,” he replies, his voice low, rumbling. “Woke up thinking about you.”

You smile, heart fluttering. The feel of his hand sliding beneath your shirt makes your nipples harden. “Is that so?”

“Mm-hmm.” He nuzzles your hair, fingertips grazing the curve of your belly, over the faint scar that still aches sometimes. “You’ve been through so much, love. I can’t stop looking at you.”

You sigh into him. “I feel... different.”

Joel’s hand dips lower to cup your breast, gentle but possessive. Your heart leaps. “Different how?”

You swallow, heat blooming. “More… alive, I guess. And I miss you.”

He lifts you, tilting you until you face him. His dark eyes pin you,soft, hungry, protective. “Tell me what you need.”

Your pulse quickens. “I need you.”

He grins, a slow, proud curve of his lips. “Good. Because you’re only mine.”

Your breath hitches. You reach up to stroke his cheek. “Only yours.”

He leans in, capturing your mouth in a kiss that’s deep and full of promise. His hands roam over your hips, down your thighs, anchoring you to him. You arch into him.

When he breaks the kiss, his brow is drawn. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

You nod, swallowing hard. “I’ve waited six weeks.”

“Good girl.” His praise sends a shiver through you. He tugs off your shirt, then his own, revealing hard lines of muscle softened by fatherhood. You cup his chest, tracing the scars, the new creases at his eyes.

Joel pauses to look down at you, his gaze thick with emotion. “I’m so proud of you.”

Tears prick your eyes. “Thank you for everything.”

He kisses your navel, sliding lower until his mouth brushes your inner thigh. You gasp, legs parting instinctively. His breath ghosts over your swollen nub. “You feel so good,” he murmurs. “Still so beautiful.”

Your hips roll forward. “Please.”

He chuckles,a deep, pleased sound,and dips a finger into your slickness. You moan, head falling back. “Joel...”

He strokes you slowly, teasing you until you’re trembling. “I want you to come for me,” he whispers. Then, with one decisive motion, he slides two fingers home, curling them expertly. Your breath hitches, body quivering around him.

“Jesus,” you gasp. “That’s,”

He holds you there, moving them gently, then pulls back and looks up at you. “Not yet. I want you on top.”

You scramble up, straddling his hips. Your hands cup his cheeks as you lean down, wave after wave of tension coiling inside you. When you grind down on him, he groans, fingers gripping your hips.

“Fuck, yes,” he rasps. “Just like that.”

You sink down, cherishing the stretch and connection. You rock slowly at first, matching your rhythm to his breathing. His hands guide you, steady and sure.

“Easy,” he murmurs, thumbs brushing over the tops of your thighs. “I want to watch you.”

So you slow, arching your back, meeting his gaze. Your breasts brush his chest, nipples hard. You lean forward, brushing your lips against his collarbone.

He groans, eyes dark. “You’re killing me.”

You grin against his skin. “Good.” You dip lower, kissing the swell of your breast, then flick your tongue over your nipple. Joel shudders, one hand moving to cradle your breast as you continue.

His breath catches. “Fuck,” he growls. “Keep going.”

You oblige, swirling your tongue, pinching and rolling your nipple between your fingers. He mewls, hips thrusting up, seeking more. You moan, lost in the feel of him beneath you.

Then your chest shifts as a drop of warm milk escapes. You blink, surprised, and your palm presses it against his skin. Joel’s eyes narrow, then widen as more beads appear.

“Baby…” he whispers, voice thick. “You’re,”

You meet his gaze, throat tight. “It’s normal,” you say softly. “Breasts are full. You can…” You swallow. “If you want,”

Joel’s eyes darken with something fierce. “I do want.” He brushes your nipple with his thumb, then leans up and captures it in his mouth. You gasp, head falling back as he sucks, deep and slow.

Warmth floods you, body trembling. “Oh God...”

He releases your breast to slide a finger across your lips, collecting stray milk. “Taste perfect,” he murmurs before licking your finger clean.

Your heart pounds. “Joel...”

He stands, lifting you until your legs wrap around his waist. Without breaking eye contact, he carries you to the edge of the bed and lays you down. You watch him, flooded with trust.

He crawls up, positions himself at your entrance, and slips in, slow and deliberate. You cry out softly, arching into him.

“Mine,” he breathes, pressing his forehead to yours. “Only mine.”

You nod, tears of relief and pleasure wet on your cheeks. “Yours.”

He pulls back, then thrusts in a single powerful motion. You moan, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“God, I’ve wanted this,” he groans, voice husky. His movements are gentle but insistent, a testament to the new tenderness in him.

You ride him, rocking your hips, savoring every inch. He guides you, one hand holding your hip, the other drifting up to your throat in a light, possessive grip.

“Easy, love,” he murmurs. “Take it slow. I want to look at you.”

You meet his gaze, every thrust a brushstroke. “Like this?”

He smiles, exhaling raggedly. “Exactly like that.”

He leans down, capturing your mouth in a kiss that deepens with each pulse. You feel him soften inside you, then stiffen again, a stuttered rhythm that sends you spiraling toward release.

“Joel...” you whisper, voice trembling.

He pulls out gently and flips you onto your stomach. His hand drags across your spine, down to your hip. You gasp as he pounds into you from behind, the pressure on your breasts sending another trickle of milk free.

He moans deep in his throat. “Fuck, you’re incredible.”

Your walls flutter, body tightening. You press your cheek into the pillows, breathing hard.

“Come for me,” he urges, voice low and commanding.

With a cry, you come undone, waves of ecstasy crashing through you. Joel follows moments later, his body shuddering as he pours himself into you.

He collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms. You lay together, breath mingling, the scent of sweat and milk hanging sweetly in the air.

“Thank you,” you whisper into his chest.

He kisses your hair, thumb brushing your cheek. “Thank you for trusting me.”

You smile, eyes closing. “Always.”

He tightens his arms, drawing you closer. “Only mine,” he murmurs.

You drift into contentment, knowing there’s no safer place than his embrace,no greater comfort than his unwavering love and gentle domination.

And as you sink into sleep, you realize that this new chapter of your life,bodies changed, hearts expanded,is more beautiful than you ever imagined.

[sonhosdostemposperdidos]

Oi Meus amigos! Nos precisamos garantir que Dom Pedro II seja o vencedor desse torneio !!!!

Polls that will start tomorrow:

Ferdinand I, Holy Roman Emperor vs Joseph II, Holy Roman Emperor

Ferdinand II, Holy Roman Emperor vs Pedro II, Emperor of Brazil

Mary of Hungary, Queen of Hungary, Governor of the Netherlands vs. Carlos II, King of Spain

My inbox is now open to propaganda.

[thdoyogirl]

aespa memes bios pt-br

''bang chitty bang bang chitty bang bang'' - disse dom pedro II as margens do rio ipiranga

e no que isso afeta supernova nos charts?

mae no q voce se inspirou pra escolher meu nome? isso nao é assunto pra hoje ah body bang (bang bang bang) da silva

aespa lancem os solos de voces no spotify e eu digo se esperava ou nao

tmj (te amo jimin - karina

pra que terapia sendo que eu tenho o aespa?

aespa é tec aespa é pop aespa é tudo ta na globo

[lincolndjarin]

socials, etc. .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ao3 ☆ insta ☆ kofi mdni, my entire blog is 18+ please read all tags and warnings, dddne fics are tagged accordingly follow @lincolndjarinnotifs for fic updates

navigation :

I - series, completed & ongoing

II - one off's

III - drabbles

I - series (in order of release)

Best Kept Secret [ completed series ] .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 195k words

bodyguard!Din Djarin x princess!reader

summary : Married off to a prince on a planet that you hate? New husband doesn't know you, and doesn't want to know you? New husband gifts you a personal Mandalorian body guard as a wedding present? Mandalorian is a wiseass who won't leave you alone? Lucky you.

tags: : enemies to friends to lovers, arranged marriage, forbidden love, smut, angst, canon-typical violence, eventual happy ending

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Oh Honey [ completed series] .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 56k words

monster!Joel Miller x mortician!reader

summary : you’ve been given a gift. a fresh start in a brand new place, the sleepy little town of Honey, WV. a distant aunt has passed away and left you a little plot of land and her camper, the stars must be aligning for you because the local mortician is looking for an assistant and you’re desperate for the work experience. your new employer even offers to set you up with her brother-in-law! things are looking up, you’ve got a brand new home, a new town, a hot date, (and thanks to a series of bear attacks that started immediately after your arrival) you have more than enough work to keep you busy!

tags: : horror/mystery, angst, monster fucker, soulmates au, graphic descriptions of violence, body horror, gore

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Bewitched [ coming soon ]

Din Djarin x witch!reader

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Every Now and Then [ HIATUS]

Joel Miller x f!reader

summary : Joel Miller destroyed you. He loved you, then he left, leaving you in the New York City, QZ. But he's a good southern gentleman, so of course he didn't leave you without a reminder of the time you spent together. Four years later you're living in Jackson, in a lovely little ranch house. (With your reminder.) The last person you want to see is Joel Miller, unfortunately you've never been particularly lucky.

tags: : angst, toxic relationships, unplanned pregnancy, possessive behavior, healing, extremely complicated relationships

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Sparrow's Spectacles [ ongoing anthology ]

summary : a series of horror one shots based around different pedro characters. be warned, the dead doves are going to be remarkably inedible. installments will be tagged accordingly, all stories will be 18+ and dddne.

tags: : dead dove do not eat, horror, dub/noncon

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II - one off's (in order alphabetically)

A Little Mishap [francisco morales x f!reader]

tags : dead dove do not eat, noncon, bondage

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Bound in Beskar [din djarin x f!reader]

tags : armorer!mando, dom/sub vibes, pwp, blacksmith bondage

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Constructive Criticisms [javier peña x f!reader]

tags : virginity loss, fluff, mutual masturbation

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the Dragonfly & the Moon [joel miller x f!witch!reader]

tags : ritualistic sex, knife play, blood

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More & More & More [jack daniels x f!reader]

tags : dead dove do not eat, noncon, bondage

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My Sister Lives in the Attic [joel miller x f!reader]

tags : grief, angst, child loss

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My Way [oberyn martell x wife!reader]

tags : married fluff, pegging

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Not So Secret Santa [javier peña x f!coworker!reader]

tags : enemies to lovers, semi-public sex, christmas

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Pretty in Pink [joel miller x f!reader]

tags : fluff, breeding kink, lingerie

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Ride Cowgirl! [jack daniels x f!reader]

tags : unprotected sex, bondage

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Sweet Boy [din djarin x gn!reader]

tags : sub!din, pegging

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the Thing That Gives [ezra x f!reader]

tags : dead dove do not eat, noncon, tentacles

III - drabbles (under 1k words)

sub!din x f!reader

dieter bravo x f!reader

comandante veracruz x f!reader

[ms-lirio]

I have to give classes tomorrow. My head hurts.

Anyway. Super quick chibi of Imperial Brazil

References: allegory of Brazilian Empire wearing Dom Pedro II clothes 👑

[amethvysts]

BRASIL PANDEIRO — E. KUKURICZKA & M. RECALT.

𖥻 sumário: alguns headcanons sobre kuku e matí turistas. 𖥻 par: esteban x leitora; matías x leitora. 𖥻 avisos: um pouco curtinho. talvez tenham alguns errinhos pq eu nunca reviso (kkkry). menção a vômito e bebida alcoólica.

💭 nota da autora: hoje to me sentindo bem merda, então resolvi focar as minhas (inexistentes) forças em terminar esse aqui que já tava de molho faz tempooo nos rascunhos. espero que gostem! ♡

ESTEBAN

✮ㆍVocê nem precisa se incomodar em fazer um itinerário porque ele já fez isso no momento em que comprou a passagem para te visitar. Dá mais atenção para os pontos turísticos clássicos, então vai ter muita praia, mas também quer conhecer a parte histórica.

✮ㆍAcho que eu já falei sobre nos headcanons do Kuku!mineirinho, mas também se aplica aqui: é super tiozão quando se trata de passeios. 

✮ㆍAma fazer passeios guiados pelos lugares, e mesmo sabendo que você conhece o lugar como a palma da sua mão, vai te pedir para vocês se inscreverem em um roteiro com um guia turístico. 

✮ㆍPresta atenção em tudo e retém até os mínimos detalhes. Depois do passeio, vai lançar um fato histórico muito específico que te deixa com o olho Deste Tamanho porque como ele se atreve a saber mais sobre história do Brasil do que você? Não tem nem como ficar irritada por muito tempo, até porque homem inteligente é um tesão.

✮ㆍAcho que ele fica obcecado pela história do Brasil Império? Tenho certeza que depois de um passeio pelo centro histórico da cidade, com as construções e a história, vai imediatamente abrir o Google para pesquisar mais sobre a vida de Dom Pedro II assim que chegar em casa. 

✮ㆍObcecado por tirar fotos de tudo, desde a comida que vocês dividem durante o café da manhã – mesmo que seja só um pão com mortadela – até dos letreiros de todas as atrações turísticas que vocês visitam.

✮ㆍGosta de passeios em museus, óbvio. E também ama tirar fotos suas andando pelos andares enquanto observa os itens expostos. Vai sair com o celular queimando de tantas fotos suas, distraída. E mesmo com você fazendo drama, pedindo para ele apagar, Esteban finge que apagou, mas deixa tudo guardadinho <3 

✮ㆍGosta das praias mais tranquilas, onde vocês possam deitar na areia e só curtir do dia – também prefere os dias bem ensolarados, o que sempre termina com ele reclamando dos ombros ardidos mesmo depois de se besuntar de protetor solar.

✮ㆍNão gosta de usar sunga, prefere mil vezes os shortinhos. E fica com as coxas marcadas de sol, também. Volta para casa parecendo aqueles biscoitos de dois sabores, morango e baunilha.

✮ㆍSe você não tiver paciência de levar bolsa para a praia, pode deixar que o Esteban vai preparar a ecobag mais recheada possível. Livro, porque ele ama ler na praia, canga, toalhas, uma troca de roupa para cada um, lanchinhos, garrafa d'água, protetor solar… é até surpreendente a quantidade de coisas que ele consegue colocar ali dentro. É tipo aquela bolsa da Hermione em que sai de tudo. 

✮ㆍVai comprar lembrancinha para todo mundo que conhece, até mesmo pra sua família. Inclusive, imagino dois cenários: o primeiro, onde vocês dividem um quarto de hotel, aproveitando os dias de férias juntos e curtindo um ao outro; segundo, onde vocês ficam na sua casa de infância, com a sua família que ele tá conhecendo pela primeira vez. 

✮ㆍPessoalmente, prefiro o segundo cenário porque o Kuku ficaria maluquinho das ideias. Primeiro porque a bateria social dele iria embora rapidinho, e ele não saberia onde enfiar a cara caso a sua mãe ligasse para as suas tias, convidando-as para um cafézinho – tudo uma desculpa esfarrapada para elas conhecerem o seu namorado gringo. 

✮ㆍSegundo que, depois de alguns dias, ele ia ficar, sim, muito frustrado por não conseguir te dar mais do que alguns beijos, precisando se abster de te tocar. O que, obviamente, termina com ele te fodendo enquanto tampa a sua boca com aquela mãozona, tentando abafar seus gemidos (que você prometeu que não ia soltar, mas é impossível quando ele te come tão lentinho, o pau te alargando tão gostoso que te faz ter vontade de chorar). Isso tudo bem ali, na sua cama de adolescência e debaixo do seu pôster da One Direction. 

✮ㆍClaro que, mesmo sabendo que sua família não ouviu nada do que vocês fizeram na noite passada – ou, pelo menos, estão fingindo não saber de nada –, Esteban não vai saber como agir na manhã seguinte quando vocês sentam na mesa para tomar café. E se sente péssimo, muito, mas muito sujo, porque sua mãe tá ali oferecendo um cafézinho recém-coado, quentinho, com um sorriso extremamente simpático no rosto, mal sabendo as atrocidades que ele fez com a filha dela na madrugada. Imagino que ele fique com o maior sorriso amarelo do mundo, nem tendo coragem de encarar seus familiares direito enquanto aquele áudio do "me perdoa, meu Deus, me perdoa" da Carminha tá em repeat na mente dele. 

MATÍAS

✮ㆍSe faz muito necessário trazer o nosso taz mania argentino para passar as férias aqui durante o Carnaval. Acho que quando você sugeriu isso, ele só faltou soltar um rojão pelo rabo de tanta felicidade. É a junção das duas coisas preferidas dele: você e furdunço. Não tem como dar errado. 

✮ㆍApesar dele se interessar, sim, pelos centros históricos e por aqueles pontos turísticos clássicos, ele já visitou o Brasil algumas vezes e teve a oportunidade de conhecer. Agora, é hora de aproveitar outras atrações ao seu lado.

✮ㆍRei dos perrengues. Imagino ele sendo o tipo azarado e sem noção que, durante o momento mais periclitante do rolê, vai falar que precisa ir ao banheiro e te obriga a passar alguns bons minutos na fila do banheiro químico na rua. 

✮ㆍIsso sem falar de que, com certeza, em algum momento da viagem ele vai passar o dia se contorcendo no chão do banheiro porque caiu no conto do vigário da promoção de caipirinha duvidosa de um dos ambulantes do bloco. E o pior é que você tentou avisar e Matías não te deu ouvidos, e vai ser só quando ele coloca os bofes para fora que vai te dizer, "você tinha razão, amor," com a voz mais fraquinha que você já ouviu. 

✮ㆍAcorda cedo todos os dias (por vontade própria!) para se arrumar para os blocos do dia. E ainda fica chateado se você não despertar na mesma hora para se emperiquitar também, tá? Se você atrasar os planos dele, então… 

✮ㆍÉ a primeira (e provavelmente, a única) vez que você presenciou o Matías acordando tão cedo assim. Mas ele ficou muito animado com toda a programação do Carnaval, principalmente se você for de cidade grande e tiver aquelas planilhas com os horários e local de cada bloquinho. 

✮ㆍSem meme, mas é a cara dele te obrigar a ficar debaixo do sol de quarenta graus esperando o Fervo da Lud ou o Bloco da Anitta. 

✮ㆍNão é adepto a fantasias, mas gosta quando você passa glitter ou empresta um dos seus arquinhos para ele. Vai querer sair com plaquinha combinando, se você estiver afim. E bem brega mesmo, tá? Porque ele ama. Daquelas tipo, "só gosto de problema" e a outra plaquinha dizendo "problema", "era sol que me faltava" enquanto você tá fantasiada de sol, "dono da porra toda" e você com arquinho de "porra toda". E aquelas engraçadinhas onde você usa uma escrito "no Instagram" e ele usa outra com "pessoalmente". Enfim, you get the drill. 

✮ㆍMas o uniforme dele mesmo é bermudinha, camisa regata (que ele nunca usa por muito tempo porque ela sempre acaba amarrada no cós da bermuda; isso se ele não acabar perdendo no meio do caminho) e a pochete. 

✮ㆍEle é bem econômico com o que leva na pochete, na real. Uns trocados, a identidade, camisinha (importantíssimo até porque tem vezes que o pau dele quase estoura quando te vê dançando funk com aquelas sainhas bonitinhas) e maço de cigarro – que, na verdade, ele acaba nem fumando porque consegue arranjar várias amizades de bloco em bloco e desenrola uns baseados pelo caminho.

✮ㆍDo tipo que só volta para casa quando já tá de noite e vocês estão exaustos. Aí é só tomar um banho, juntos, de preferência, fazer um miojinho e deitar no sofá agarradinhos para assistir às escolas de samba – que vocês não conseguem ver até o final porque acabam dormindo logo no meio do desfile da primeira. 

✮ㆍDepois que passa o frenesi do Carnaval, imagino que ele queira passar alguns dias num lugar mais quietinho, onde vocês possam aproveitar a companhia um do outro na paz. 

✮ㆍEntão, a segunda parada de vocês seria um sítio, ou alguma casinha de praia bem legal em uma cidade mais litorânea. É um momento de descanso, para vocês se curtirem à vontade sem ter que ligar para horário, tumulto e gente de fora. 

✮ㆍAí, os dias seriam preguiçosos, com vocês acordando na hora que bem-quiserem e fazendo o que der na telha. Tá com vontade de ir pra praia e ficar de molho? Vocês passam o dia inteiro lá. Encheu o saco de areia? Partiu piscina. Ai, não aguentam mais ficar na água? Hora de descansar na rede.

✮ㆍÉ bem doméstico, também, como se vocês vivessem uma vida de casados sem aliança no dedo. Fase lua de mel total! Cozinham juntos, e você acaba queimando algumas coisas por estar ocupada demais rindo das besteiras que o Matías fala; tomam banho juntos, e sempre tem que tomar outro banho porque acabam fodendo debaixo do chuveiro; assistem televisão juntos, se arrumam, faxinam… ficam colados um no outro durante o resto das férias. 

✮ㆍImagino muito aquela cena (de um filme que eu não tô lembrando) em que vocês estão parados na frente da pia do banheiro, se encarando pelo espelho enquanto escovam os dentes. Matías fica de importunando, te dando umas cotoveladas e tentando fazer com que a escova escape da sua boca, enquanto você só sabe rir e devolver os empurrões <3

[ariel-seagull-wings]

ANTÔNIO CARLOS GOMES

@princesssarisa @themousefromfantasyland @obufalo @the-blue-fairie @tamisdava2 @moonbeamlightning

Antônio Carlos Gomes was born in Campinas on 11 July, 1836, and from an early age, he showed an interest in music, encouraged by his father, Manuel José Gomes, who was also a musician. As a young man, he divided his time between working as a tailor and studying music. 

At the age of 15, he began composing waltzes, polkas, and quadrilles. By the time he turned 18, he had gained recognition with the composition of his first mass, the Missa de São Sebastião.

This work, that he dedicated to his father, was imbued with mysticism.

In 1857, he released A Cayumba, one of the first classical pieces to incorporate rhythms from African dances into the structure of a ballroom polka.

When he was still young, he moved to Rio de Janeiro to study at the Imperial Conservatory of Music, where he was mentored by renowned masters such as Francisco Manuel da Silva, the composer of the Brazilian National Anthem.

In 1861, he premiered his first major work, A Noite do Castelo, at the Lyrico Fluminense Theater, based on the work of Antônio Feliciano de Castilho.

Carlos Gomes was acclaimed by an enthusiastic crowd, and Emperor Dom Pedro II, also impressed by the young composer’s success, honored him with the Imperial Order of the Rose.

Carlos Gomes’s talent quickly captivated the court. In 1863, he presented his second opera, Joana de Flandres, with a libretto by Salvador de Mendonça, which also achieved great success.

In recognition of his talent, he was selected to receive a scholarship to study in Europe, funded by the National Lyric Opera Company as part of a contract with the Imperial Government.

It is said that Dom Pedro II would have preferred Carlos Gomes to study in Germany, where the maestro, Richard Wagner was prominent, but the Empress, Dona Teresa Cristina, a Neapolitan, suggested Italy instead.

Under Pedro II’s patronage, he was admitted to the Milan Conservatory, where, in 1866, he graduated as a master and composer, earning the highest praise from critics and professors alike.

He lived in Milan, but he never forgot Brazil. He was looking for inspiration for a work that would firmly establish his reputation when one afternoon in 1867, while walking through Piazza del Duomo, he heard a boy shouting, “Il Guarany! Il Guarany! Storia interessante dei selvaggi del Brasile!” 

The poor Italian translation of José de Alencar’s novel piqued the maestro’s interest and at that moment, the idea for his most famous work was born.

The libretto, in Italian, was written by Antonio Scalvini and Carlo D’Ormeville. The opera is important as it was the first Brazilian opera to be acclaimed outside Brazil. 

O Guarani is revered for its rich orchestration, inspired melodies, and integration of elements of Brazilian Indigenous music, solidifying its reputation as a unique work in the operatic repertoire.

The opera followed a contemporary trend in Europe of curiosity about foreign peoples and customs.

O Guarani premiered at Teatro Alla Scala in Milan in 1870. Giuseppe Verdi, who had been an inspiration to the young Carlos Gomes, is said to have remarked that evening: “Questo giovane comincia dove finisco io!” (“This young man begins where I leave off!”). Its overture was later used as the theme for the radio program A Voz do Brasil.

After the end of the Monarchy, the government of the newly established Republic offered Carlos Gomes the sum of 20,000 réis to compose a new national anthem. However, the maestro refused out of respect for the deposed emperor, his friend and patron, who was in exile at that time.

In April 1896, already gravely ill, Carlos Gomes returned to Brazil and took up the role of director at the Carlos Gomes Conservatory in Belém do Pará. He passed away shortly afterwards, on 16 September.

The maestro is the patron of seat number 15 at the Brazilian Academy of Music and his name was inscribed in the Livro dos Heróis e Heroínas da Pátria on 26 December, 2017.

Carlos Gomes’s legacy was recognized by UNESCO in 2017 when his work was included in the International Register of the Memory of the World (MOW) Program. For all these reasons, Carlos Gomes is one of the most honored musicians in Brazil. 

In 1959, at the suggestion of the baritone, Paulo Fortes, a proposal was put forward to place a statue of Brazilian composer Carlos Gomes in front of the Rio do Janeiro Municipal Theater, replacing the statue of Frédéric Chopin, which had been placed there in 1939.

The monument was intended to mark the beginning of the 1960 national opera season. The statue was unveiled on 16 January, 1960 and was funded by the Secretariat of Transportation and Public Works of the Federal District and installed by the engineer, Elsa Osborne.

The monument is a replica of a statue created by Rodolfo Bernardelli and installed in Largo do Carmo in Campinas, the maestro’s hometown. Bernardelli depicted Carlos Gomes at the end of a performance, signaling the orchestra to be silent for the audience to applaud.

Interestingly, inside the Municipal Theater, there is a bronze bust of Carlos Gomes, also sculpted by Bernardelli.

It is in the hall leading to the first-floor seating area. There is another bust in his honor on Paquetá Island, as well as a theater named after him located in Praça Tiradentes.

The location of Carlos Gomes’s statue in Cinelândia, an iconic center of cultural life in Rio de Janeiro, emphasizes the impact of his work, the significance of his contribution to Brazilian culture, and his recognition both in Brazil and abroad.

[sonhosdostemposperdidos]

Precisamos apoiar Dom Pedro II!

Joseph II, Holy Roman Emperor, reigned 1765-1790

The tags keep calling him a poor meow meow From anon: "I mean... Does this dude even NEED propaganda?! If this guy doesn't make you root for an absolute monarch, then noone will. Like with the caveat that enlightened absolutism is still absolutism and thus still not a GOOD way to run a state - well, Joseph II. was truly the most enlightened of absolutists. Just the fact that he abolished serfdom and instituted religious tolerance in Habsburg domains is enough to make him stand far above all of his predecessors and successors. Like, all of the other contestants can go home. None of them could ever top that (Franz Joseph I. had several opportunities, but wasn't keen on taking them). Even his other reforms were at worst misguided, but driven by genuine desire to better his country. Plus, you have to feel bad for him - the poor guy busted his ass for the country, just to have to take back a lot of his reforms simply because they were too ahead of their time, both of his marriages were unhappy (partially his own fault, but only partially) and, lest we forget, both of his kids died young. Voting for him is the least you can do for my poor baby!" anti-Joseph II, from anon: Joseph II anti propaganda cheated like hell and treated his nephew Franz I (II) really mean by denying him company and food sometimes and also insulting him all the time. only good thing about him was that he was in Amadeus (1984) which was a banger film

Pedro II, Emperor of Brazil, reigned 1831-1889

This time with the beard From anon: "1: The Glorious Beard. Now that is the beard of an emperor. Small children could get lost in it while sharing their Christmas wishlists. 2: Under his monarchy Slavery was abolished without a civil war (whistles innocously in how long it took) 3: Pedro de Alcântara João Carlos Leopoldo Salvador Bibiano Francisco Xavier de Paula Leocádio Miguel Gabriel Rafael Gonzaga is an amazingly long full name"