#god i'm sorry again for doing this on here

[dilf-docs]

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: I/II

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

*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.

[wonryllis]

PREVIEW2 : the hot dad next door (m) | park sunghoon.

﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ぃ ────𝗶𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗵𝗼𝘁 𝗱𝗮𝗱 𝗻𝗲𝘅𝘁 𝗱𝗼𝗼𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂?

preview. the ever quintessential first time dad moves in next door with his five year old and finds it impossible not to fall for you, the pretty girl who gives his daughter cookies and him; the doll eyes. obsessed with your entire being, unable to keep his hands off you, park sunghoon questions if he's just crazy or he's crazy over you.

or where, he notices the way you look at his hands a little too long for it to be innocent.

meet the cast. single dad!park sunghoon with his pretty neighbour fem!reader.

genre. DILFF AUU !!, SMUT MDNI, fluff, neighbours to lovers, sunghoon is quite literally yes insanely crazed over you and for the sake of god can't keep his dick soft, domestic a little bit i guess, i want to make her my wife trope EEEKKK, slight age gap (hoon in late twenties and reader in early twenties) more to be added.

word count. 1.2k for this preview and around 20k for the whole fic.

warnings. inaccuracies about parenting cause i aint a parent, i got no idea. some hot making out in this one, dad sunghoon tired bothered from work yes it's a warning. more will be mentioned in the actual post.

check out the first preview!

"is ji— " sunghoon stands again at your door, few days later on the weekend. this time more formally dressed than normal, adorning a sleek tight fitted vest and a navy blue blazer with buttons fastened at his waist. hair styled and glasses sitting prettily on his nose bridge. the sweat trickling down his forehead and the heaviness in his breath making you feel things despite knowing it's because he's worried about his daughter with how late he got back.

"she's here don't worry, just fell asleep while waiting for you," you reassure his distraught self. being a single and new father took a much harder toll on him at times like these when he couldn't be with his angel and he honestly didn't know how he'd survive if it weren't for you.

his job asked a lot of him and he couldn't always asks his friends and family to look over her, to have someone like you beside him was a breath of relief.

"i'm sorry, the meeting lasted longer than i thought and then traffic—" he tries explaining, wishing you aren't fed up of him and his daughter yet.

"it's okay sunghoon, everything's fine. do you wanna have some wine before you go?"

in hopes of easing his stress and let his mind have a rest, you offer in a feeble tone of expectation.

sunghoon nods, sighing as he takes off his shoes slow and tired. trudging behind you as you walk over to the fridge to bring out the heavy bottle. you look up to smile at him across the counter while he slips off his blazer and folds up his sleeves, there's no way he does not know what he's doing. but then loser clueless sunghoon really is not aware of the effect his exposed arms have on you. his friends and colleagues have told and he probably remembers it at the back of his mind, but the thing is, he is not really trying at this moment, he's just tired from work.

hot and bothered. and being alone with you in a room like this is just making him feel hotter.

it takes him a second but when he notices you struggle to get the wine glasses from the shelf, he does not think much before walking over and grabbing them for you. his body behind yours, chest touching your back and with his hands stretched out it's like you trapped between him and the counter. the scent of your shampoo hits his nose and that's what makes him realize just how close he is to you.

he stands still for a moment, trying to inhale as much of you as he can, but when he feels you shift, about to turn around, he's immediately snapping out of it; stepping back in an instant.

"i-i'm sorry, just noticed you needed help so," he mumbles apologetically, rubbing the back of his neck in shyness like usual and yet again unaware of how much you did not want him to be sorry.

"yes, thank you sunghoon," you smile at him despite the little tinge of frustration at the back of your subconscious.

leading him to the couch, and sitting awfully close to him on purpose you put the glasses on the tea table, pouring in the wine as you discreetly watch him shift nervously beside you. sunghoon feels distressed and troubled, once again he can smell you the tingles of white musk playing his nostrils. and he can also feel your thigh rubbing against his, albeit obstruct by the fabric of his suit pant, still very much obvious. perhaps the wine will help him calm down.

"so how was your day?" you hand him the glass, taking your own and staring at him as you take a sip, waiting for him to answer.

you listen in patience as he rants about how all that could go wrong went wrong at work. gazing over features, and the way his clothes hugged him right. at some point, his brows furrow and he starts to frown, looking towards the balcony as he speaks.

it bothers you for some reason, you don't want him to be so stressed. with the slight intoxication of the wine in your system, you reach forward to take his glasses off, putting them away on the table alongside your empty wine glass. and tugging him closer by his wrinkled tie leave a little wet kiss, a spilt second of a first move and sunghoon swears he feels all his hesitations disappear.

his breath slows down and his face relaxes for that short moment your lips touch, internally malfunctioning at the situation, short circuiting in stillness, wide eyes and unmoving lips.

however as soon as he sees at the dazed look in your doll eyes when you pull away, all his nervousness flies out, for all he can think of is the way your lips moved on his, and how addicting it felt, like something he wanted to feel every single moment he possibly could.

"fuck," he pulls you back by the back of your head, quite literally engulfing your lips in a sloppy kiss, going berserk over the feel of you. his hands are quick to slip to your thighs carressing up and down a few times before grabbing them to haul you onto his lap. it's a mess. he can't seem to stop, kissing over your lips over and over again in soft nibbles, sometimes dragging a moment to suck on them. hands once again carressing from your thighs to your waist, holding you tight in his arms by there, yanking you closer.

it takes everything in him to pull away but it's only to catch and breath and there's no way he's letting this chance go. tucking a strand of hair behind your ear while your sweaty foreheads rest against each other.

just as he's leaning back in, still breathless,"dada?" the sound of jia's voice down the hall has you both immediately pushing away and sitting back down on the couch properly. sunghoon brushes back his wet hair and tugs at his tie before standing up to get his daughter.

"yes baby, dada's back. come on, let's go back," the way he picks her up and walks over to you makes your insides tingle, still not over the kiss.

"we're gonna be going then, thank you for—" sunghoon's eyes linger over the wine glasses and how messed up you look and he gulps before he continues,"having us over," his words sound deeper yet more innocent than the seductive meaning behind them.

you watch them walk out the door, waving jia and sunghoon good night as they unlock their front door and go in.

inside, his blazer still hung over the edge of the couch. a testament to the reality of all things that happened in the room. of it being more than just a dream. you enjoyed having jia over and taking care of her, it was never a nuisance and the fact that if you were to be together with sunghoon she would be your daughter too sounded more of a gift than a burden. you understood his situation, and despite not yet knowing of how and where jia's mom is, you trust him.

it was the start of a something sunghoon never wanted to end. and he could only hope you'd feel the same way. if only he knew how you felt.

[kaliina-catoe-blog]

No. I hate this take, and I'm sorry to be adding to someone else's post to say it because I genuinely don't want to send hate to OP. But I am so so tired of this HORRIBLE take about Tim. It's completely ridiculous to me to think that Tim Drake is in any way a child who had a normal childhood. "I went to the circus-" Fucking stop. Stop.

Tim Drake, at the ripe old age of TODDLER watched his two heroes fall to their extremely graphic and painful deaths. In front of their child, who we know for sure would have been screaming and crying if not vomiting at the scene. Their child who, earlier that same night, had been happily taking pictures with Tim and treating him so kindly.

Tim would be fucking RUINED just from that alone.

But, adding to that, he also was not giver proper adult supervision for literally almost his entire life before joining the Waynes. By proper, I mean actual real child care. Not school, not just the occasional rotation of nannies he's depicted as having had. Real, actual, care. He was starved for touch and attention and love for years, God knows he wasn't given any therapy after witnessing the death of the Graysons either. Homeboy had so much trauma and was so fucked up as a kid/teen he took to STALKING BATMAN for FUN.

I mean seriously???? Did we read the same character? Tim Drake has every reason to man to become a vigilante. And then? He figures out that Batman and Robin are his neighbors? Specifically that Dick Grayson is Robin? There was never anything that could have stopped Tim from being Robin even if Jason hadn't died.

And then he gets involved and his mom dies and his dad is severely hurt? Yeah. Why do people always insist he should be "normal" or "Okay" or some bullshit? He's a severely mentally ill teenager, and being Robin is one of few things that probably helps him not just go rogue and start fucking murdering people.

Again, do not send hate to OP. And this isn't to say OP is like. A bad fan or some shit. I'm just saying if you're going to talk about a character, you need to know them. And Tim is such an underrated and misunderstood character so it just makes my heart hurt to see people totally not get it.

Go follow OP tho and, give them love to make up for my rant here.

Especially Tim. Barbara at least had the excuse of traumatizing parental death, Tim's backstory? "I went to the circus once when I was three. Also my parents should prbly have gotten a divorce. I attended a lot of boarding schools."

[imsofreakingtired]

ok since the people are asking for a sequel to this fic... i must deliver 🫡

crawling back to you

content warning(s): angst - buT THERES A HAPPY ENDING I SWEAR

"crawlin' back to you, ever thought of callin' when you've had a few? 'cause i always do maybe i'm too busy being yours to fall for somebody new."

~~~

Sevika catches you halfway back to the apartment. You are bathed in the neon light of the sign of the Last Drop several steps ahead, making you feel like a hologram. That might have been all you were to Sevika. A hologram. Something pleasant to look at, not tempting enough to touch.

“Baby,” she says, “let me explain.” 

She’s not even out of breath. Your world is falling apart and she probably just decided to walk leisurely after you, as if you barely mattered more than just another one of her girls. 

You avoid her gaze. “I thought you were busy tonight.” 

“I am,” she snaps. “This is ridiculous.” 

You’re silent.

“Did you actually think I was going to Babette's every night? You think I’d lie to you that way?” 

“I don't know,” you hiss. “Would you?” 

You know people are overhearing the two of you, but your anger bubbles over like a boiling vat of undiluted Shimmer. Sevika glares down at you, and you feel a twist in your heart. This is the end of everything. Even though she’s the one at fault, she’s the one with the records in Babette’s and not you, you feel like you’re the one pulling all the wrong strings. 

Your question hurts her more than she would ever let on. Of all the people who’d accuse her of lying, she never thought the dagger would be driven home by you. She wants to tell you she’s sorry, that she doesn’t know why she went into the arms of a stranger rather than risk being vulnerable to you. She wants to tell you all she was trying to do was protect you from her. She wants to ask: if she showed you the cracks in her skin where she’d broken and put herself together again, would you still stay?

But she can’t, because now there’s a wall of ice between you and you are already turning away. This time, she doesn’t follow. 

When she comes home late that night, the apartment is empty. 

~~~

You have found a small, run-down inn where the rats skitter beneath the floorboards and the water doesn’t run half the time, and you’ve sworn every single person you know to secrecy regarding your whereabouts. Every day that goes by feels heavier without Sevika. 

You smoke Shimmer vaporizers to escape the lonely silence of the room, you find work in a scrap metal shop and spend every waking minute of the day trying not to miss her. Trying not to fall into that endless pit of remorse. Go back, go back, get the fuck back and apologize. She was a mess when you met her. You know she can’t live without you. You’re terrified she might do something dangerous and reckless to herself, that she might hurt herself or worse. You find yourself wondering at night if she had eaten dinner or if she had just gone to sleep after a smoke and a shot of whiskey. You have nightmares of seeing her dead at your feet. 

One night it rains like Zaun has never seen before. It’s like the sky has opened up like a wailing mouth, or a gaping wound. Torrents of rainwater rush between buildings and submerge basements. It’s a night no one in their right mind would ever bother going out in. 

So of course that’s the night you hear the banging on your door. 

You open it, a broken bottle in hand, ready for a threat. You think it could be the manager, a sneaking thief who stealthily raises the price of the rooms with each passing week. 

Instead you see Sevika. 

Her prosthetic arm is detached and she isn’t wearing her cloak. Her hair is plastered wetly against her face. Her clothes are drenched. 

Your first thought: is she out of her mind?

Your second: oh my gods. She’s lost her mind.

“How did you know I was here?” You demand loudly. “Are you trying to catch your death?” 

The second part of the sentence comes out as instinct, and you’re embarrassed but it’s too late. Her brows were knit together like thunderclouds, but her expression softens slightly when she hears the concern in your voice. She had been preparing herself for anything. She was convinced you had already found someone new, and were living with them. Now there’s hope. You might still care about her. 

“Get the fuck in here,” you snap, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her into the room as if she’s a misbehaving child. You yank the moth-eaten sheets off the bed and throw them around her shoulders. “Are you drunk? Why aren’t you saying anything?” 

Fear pierces through your irritation. Has something happened? Is she sick? Is she running from something?

Sevika looks down at you, watching wordlessly as you try to rub the water off her skin. When you let go of her, she lets the sheets fall to the floor. 

You throw your hands up helplessly. “What are you doing here? Who told you I was here?” 

“You think I needed a gingerbread trail to find you?” 

You fall quiet, cursing yourself inwardly. Sevika probably knew where you were since the day you left. 

You know why she’s here. You can see it in her eyes, where all her unspoken emotions betray her. But she can’t translate them into words. She can’t say the words you need to hear. 

You sit down on the bed with a heavy sigh. The room is silent but for the sound of dripping water. Finally you speak. 

“Babette says you only went there once.” You look at her. “Why?” 

She looks down. “I was drunk.” 

“You gonna use that excuse every time from now on?”

“No,” she says sharply. “I thought—I thought I didn’t have you anymore.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

She shakes her head, frustrated. “I don’t know. I don’t know, I just—I—” 

She comes forward suddenly, and you instinctively draw back, thinking she might hit something. There’s a desperate look in her face that you’ve never seen before. But she doesn’t raise her hand. She kneels on the floor in front of you. 

“Sevika, what—?”

“Take me back,” she pleads, her voice rough. “I swear it’ll never happen again, so—take me back.” 

You try to stay angry. You try to push her away. But when you look in her dark grey eyes and see the tears standing on the lashes, you find you can’t do either. You feel the heat of her body against your knees, and as you slowly remove the string tying her hair and run your fingers through the wet strands you realize with a pang just how badly you missed her. 

Sevika gives a sigh and lays her head down in your lap. 

“You’re not entirely forgiven yet,” you tell her. 

“I know,” she says, her voice muffled. 

It’s as close as she’ll ever come to saying she’s sorry. You think it’s not a bad start. 

~~~

note: your honor she is just a sad wet puppy in the rain and has done nothing wrong in her life ever 😭🙏

~~~

taglist~

@notlores @demothers-empty-blog @theyluvbix @archangeldyke-all @prettyinpink69 @beatdariceee @sevikaaaalover @intrnetrbl @ 00valentina-writes00  @zelluna @mamas-evil-hag @sevikassluttywaist @justhereforsubsevika @iliterallyhavenoideawhattosay @lez-zuha @mascdom @tiyawnyana  

[filthygalli]

Unholy

Fem!Reader x Priest!Hwang In-Ho (one shot)

Warnings: 18+, Sexual Innuendo, Not for religious people tbh, mention of fingering, sex, bibles, beliefs, and many more that I forgot. Badly written and also not proofread.

Word Count: 1747

Author's Note: I wrote this while waiting for my friends outside the lobby of my school, it took me an hour to construct something like this but I feel like it's bad, please let me know what do you think! 🥺🖤

You're not as faithful as your parents, they pray everyday and night, thanking god for everyday life that God made for them, going to church every Sunday, worshipping their god, offering help at the church when they can—while you their only daughter and child aren't that faithful, you respect it though, it's just you have more important things to do since you're in college and also working as a librarian at a local Library not too far from your house. You work there for months now and honestly, you enjoy it. You get to read your favorite books while helping the locals to find their own books, recommending them books, telling them where it is located, it's simple but you enjoy it.

One day, there's this Tall and handsome middle aged man went inside the library, he's alluding, his jaw is Sharp, his hair looks soft and fluffy—it almost cover his forehead, it's also a dark brown color, you looked at him from up to down, he wears a rimless glasses, pushing it up on his nose with his index fingers, he wears a black pants, a leather boots that heels clicked everytime he walks—he looks hot and sexy, yet innocent. Too innocent looking for an old man like him, you also noticed his clothing, similar from what the priest wears, black button up sleeve that hugged every muscle on his figure, the way his biceps tightened around the sleeve of his shirt, veins popping out as he adjusts the sleeve from his elbows, then he walked towards you—Wait Towards you?!—His gaze on you is soft and quiet, he slowly walks towards you, the heels of his leather booths echoed through the thick air of silence, You gulped as he smiled at you before speaking, “Hi, Good morning.” He said leaning down a little at your table, Your breath hitched as his dark brown eyes turned up to look at you, ‘God…’ you thought, a silver cross necklace hangs on his neck as he leaned down, “Hi, Goodmorning Sir..” you mumbled as you tried to pretend that your busy, “I'm sorry to bother but I need some help to find a specific book..” he said as he deeply chuckled, ‘Fuck, he looks and sounds so hot’ you thought as you gave him a shy smile, “Ah..What kind of book is it?” You said slightly fixing your skirt as you stood up, He paused for a moment, “Well…I-” he hesitated before chuckling again, “It's a book about.. Erotic fiction,” he said scratching the back of his neck, avoiding your look, ‘Oh…not so innocent at all’ you thought as you gave him a smile, “Well, we have a lot,” you said chuckling at him, “yeah..” he muttered as he smiled back, he smiled brightly, “Follow me, Mr..?” You said walking towards the book section as you turned back to him, “In-Ho, Hwang In-Ho.” he looked down on your figure as he towered you, “Mr. Hwang…please, Follow me.” You said as he nodded, following you after.

“Here we are,” you said as you pointed at the bookshelves full of erotic fictions that Mr. Hwang asked you, “That's a lot…” he said as his eyes wandered through numerous books. In Front of him, his eyes twinkled at the different colorful and dark book covers, “What do you recommend? Ms..?” he said eyeing you, “Y/n L/n” you mumbled as he nodded, “Y/n..” he tested your name on his lips, he liked the sound of it, it's unique and beautiful—perfect for such a beautiful woman like you, “Well, Nice to meet you, Ms. Y/n.” He said extending his hand for you to shake, you looked at his hand, Fuck his hand look so big compared to yours, it's veiny and it looks soft—You extended your hand as you felt his soft touch against your skin, you shook it as Mr.Hwang didn't break eye contact with you, “Nice to meet you too, Mr. Hwang.” You muttered, “In-Ho, Call me In-Ho, Sweetheart.” You blushed at the name he called you, Sweetheart? You repeated the name inside your head, you smiled slightly to yourself, Mr. Hwang noticed it, he smirked as he pulls his hand away from your grasp, “So,” you breathe out, “It's quite odd for someone like you to find such books like these–” you said motioning the books around the two of you, he chuckled deeply, “I like reading, it's just,” he stopped for a moment, unsure of what's he going to say, “I wanted to try the uhm, this kind of genre.” He said as he slowly looked away from you, embarrassed. “I see, well, there's a lot of books that are great under the genre that you're curious about,” you said as you slowly wander your eyes around the bookshelves, finding a specific book that might interest Mr. Hwang—He glance at you; admiring your innocent features, the way you would look at him…it's pure innocence, your soft and pinkish lips, he also noticed your hands earlier , the way his own hands gripped yours, your delicate touch made him shiver a little, The way your skirt hugged your curves—it fits perfectly on you, the only thing he can think about is bending you over on your table as he raise your skirt, spanking your ass hard that'll leave marks on your skin for days, or maybe bending you over as he slid his fingers inside you, pumping in and out of your pussy teasingly as you beg him to go faster as you chase your high, he felt his pants get tight as he thinks about his unholy thoughts about you, for god sake—he’s a damn priest, why would he think such things like this? He'll burn in hell because of you, but his soul is worth burning if he sinned because of you.

He'll make you quiver, shake, and whisper his name like a fervent prayer.

His eyes grew darker, as you explained every detail of the book that you recommended to him. At this point he doesn't need that book, he needs you, he yearns for you.

“Mr. Hwang?” You called his name, “Hmm?” He muttered, snapping himself out of his thoughts, “I said, Would you enjoy these?” You said bringing the two books from your hand to his face, he looked at the dark cover of the book, it had skulls and roses on it, ‘Haunting Adeline’ he read the book title in his mind, “Oh..what is it about?” He asked tilting his head a little, “Well…it's a cat and mouse trope, he stalks this girl and do stuffs to her..” you said almost a whisper, he noticed that you were shy, he finds it adorable, “Ah, I see…that'll do, I'll let you know if I liked it or not,” he chuckled which made you chuckle too, “Alright, just bring it to my desk so I can log the book under your name,” you said as you gave him a knowing look, he nodded and followed you behind.

You logged the book under his name and asked for his details, “Sorry but…what's your name again?” You asked slightly embarrassed. That's a big lie, Of course you know his name. He chuckled, “Next time…I'll make sure you'll remember my name.” He teased as he deeply chuckled, the sound of his chuckle sent shivers down your spine, “It's Hwang In-Ho, Sweetheart.” There is it again, that little nickname. “Right, I'll make sure to remember it this time.” You gave him a smile as you gave the book to him, “Here you go, Mr. Hwang.” he grabbed the book on the table, still looking at you, “I told you to call me In-Ho, sweetheart.” he said as he grinned, “In-Ho…Alright.” You say as you nodded, he left after that.

In-Ho went out of the Library, his mind is full of your image all he could think about is Y/n. Y/n. Y/n. Y/n. He can't stop himself from thinking such things about you, he feels disgusting, pathetic—he’s a fucking priest! First, he borrowed a book that it's clearly not appropriate for him to read, second, the way he imagined how he will bend you over and fuck you all over the bookshelves in that library makes his pants tight, he groans to himself as he reach his house, throwing the book on the coffee table, he sat down on the sofa as he questions himself about what he just did a couple of minutes ago.

Reading is one of In-Ho’s hobbies. He likes to read any kind of genre of books, he owns tons of erotic fiction in his home, it sounds odd that a priest who's supposed to be reading bibles and pray every day and night likes to read unholy fiction novels. But, earlier at the library it's his first encounter with a woman like you, you're beautiful unlike other women that he had one night stand with, Christ—he’s a priest and he does one night stand?!—He likes how calm you are, how cute you are when you get shy or stutter a little when he looks at you, he yearns for you, he wants you badly, and he'll make you his no matter what.

You sat on your chair doing paperwork as the priest from earlier came across your mind, you thought of how handsome he is for a priest, how veiny his hands are, how fit he is—is he really a priest?—how he looks at you with those eyes, it's not just a normal look, it's the hungry gaze, how his pupils dilate when he looks at you, it's weird because priests should be reading bibles instead of erotic fictions, right? Also…a dark romance book too? You wonder if he likes to read books like that, you wonder what book is his favorite, or where and what church is he a priest on because you want to see him on that altar speaking words of god as you hear it as words of lust, how you want him to moan your name like a prayer, spread your folds like a page from a Bible, or bend your back on the table like how he bends the spine of the book where words of god is written, you feel a pool of wetness on your thighs as you squeeze them together, it feels so illegal, thinking this way, it's filthy and disgusting, Yet you love it.

Author's Note: Aaaaaaa omg thank you for reading my works, we're so close on 300 flowers!! I'm so touched for having such kind and loving readers like y'all:(( I'm going to keep publishing my works for y'all! More updates soon! Thank you!🖤🥺

[enhaniki-san]

Nishimura Riki as your classmate that's in love you.

warnings: smut, nsfw, cursing, etc.

♱ student!reader who is a mean girl and delinquent but classmate!ni-ki thinks he might be into it.

♱ classmate!niki who keeps on showing up wherever you go.

"what the fuck, ni-ki? do you have a tracker on me or something?" you asked, narrowing your eyes at him.

he replied, "it's just a coincidence." shrugging casually. "don't flatter yourself."

"bullshit." you shot back, crossed arms. "you're always popping up where i least want you."

♱ classmate!ni-ki who's very attentive to you and even though he never actually said it, he's making it painfully obvious how much he likes you.

when the teacher had finally decided to do something about your constant tardiness, you ended up sweeping the dusty classroom floor where ni-ki spotted you.

"what do you want?" you asked when you heard his footsteps. you turned to face him, resting your hands on the broom handle.

he replied, "i'm just going to wait for you."

you rolled your eyes and turned back to your task. "don't you have something better to do?"

"hmm, not really." he stepped into the room, "i think this is more fun."

"watching me clean? oh you've got a weird definition of 'fun'."

he didn't answer. he simply stood there, watching you and even though he is silent, ni-ki's presence was still distracting.

you felt tired suddenly and with a huff, you glanced over your shoulder.

"ca-can you help me?"

the words left your mouth quietly before you could stop them, you instantly regretted it. "my god..." you thought. you weren't used to asking anyone for help, let alone ni-ki's.

your cheeks burned slightly as you turned away. "nevermind..." you said, turning to focus on the floor again.

ni-ki stepped forward and took the broom from your hands without a word.

"hey-"

"i got it." he said, cutting you off. he started sweeping like he'd been doing it all his life and within minutes, the dirt pile you'd been struggling with had already doubled in size.

you stood there awkwardly, unsure what to do or feel with yourself. "you don't have to do everything..."

"you asked for help, so i'm just being thorough." he said, making you flustered.

you turned away and muttered, "thanks, i guess."

"no problem." he replied, still focused on sweeping.

you couldn't help but steal a glance at him. his sleeves were rolled up slightly and his hair was bouncing with every movement.

ni-ki looked so…

and before you could finish that thought, he dusted his hands off with a satisfied smile. "done. anything else you want me to do?"

what is he, a butler?

you stared and blinked at him, unsure how to respond. finally, you shook your head. "no... that's it."

"good." he said, walking past you to put the broom away then he leaned close to you making you step back. "next time, just ask me from the start. you know i don't mind doing stuff for you."

"are you genie?"

"jinny? who's that jerk?"

"the genie from the movie, you idiot..."

ni-ki laughed awkwardly. "ahh the one from movie."

♱ classmate!ni-ki who gets jealous easily when a guy approaches you.

"hey." a voice called. you looked up to see a guy from another class approaching, smiling easy and confident. "do you wanna partner up for gym?"

"ni-ki! here!"

you turned and saw ni-ki standing with a group of guys with a soccer ball in his hands. he was staring at the guy beside you and without hesitation, he launched the ball. not towards his friends though but directly at the guy's head.

the ball smacked into the back of his head with a satisfying thud, cutting off whatever the guy was about to say.

"ow! what the hell?" the guy turned around, rubbing the back of his head as niki jogged over, faking innocence.

"sorry, bad aim." ni-ki said, though the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips said otherwise.

the guy said something under his breath before walking off, leaving you staring at ni-ki in disbelief.

"seriously?" you asked, shaking your head.

ni-ki shrugged, completely unapologetic. "yeah, so what?" he asked.

you rolled your eyes, kicking another rock as you walked away from him.

♱ classmate!ni-ki who keeps asking you to go to school everyday that you actually started showing up little by little and going in early didn't seem so bad anymore, and not to mention, you're grades were starting to improve too.

you handed back his notes then ni-ki adjusted your tie, his knuckles were brushing against your chest.

suddenly, ni-ki glanced at his watch then cupped your face gently. "i gotta go before someone sees me hanging out with a bad girl." he teased, grinning while anticipating your reaction.

you raised an eyebrow, scoffing. "oh, so you're embarrassed to be seen with me?"

his lips curled into a smirk, "i'll kiss you in front of everyone if you want." he said, adding a laugh.

you eyes widened, heat started to rush to your cheeks. flustered, you pulled his hands away. "you just said-"

"i'll see you later!" ni-ki interrupted, spinning on his heel with a playful grin before sprinting off, leaving you standing there, completely stunned.

"that guy..."

♱ classmate!ni-ki who teases you about your handwriting but secretly keeps every note you've ever written for him.

♱ classmate!ni-ki who kept asking to copy your homework, but it's actually just an excuse to check if you did it right.

♱ classmate!ni-ki whom you unexpectedly started making out with, one night while studying at your house.

and when he stood and stretched after, you accidentally looked at his pants where his dick were straining against the fabric, making a tent on his sweats.

you quickly whipped your head away. but ni-ki noticed and laughed as he walked towards the bathroom. "yeah, but i promise it's nothing you can't handle."

♱ classmate!ni-ki who seems to be really patient with you.

you wandered through the library then you spotted niki sitting by the window. his head were leaning back against the seat, eyes closed and looking so peaceful.

your heart ached slightly. you sat down quietly beside him, trying not to disturb him.

and as if sensing your presence, ni-ki's eyes fluttered open. a small smile formed his lips as he shifted, putting his arm on the back of the seat behind, welcoming you. then, without a word, he rested his forehead against your shoulder.

"i missed you." he murmured, his voice were low and sleepy.

you swallowed hard, heat creeping up your neck and cheeks. "what happened the other day…" you began hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper. "did you tell anyone?"

ni-ki lifted his head slightly, his expression turned into worry. "no, of course i didn't."

"good…" you muttered, letting out a shaky breath you didn't realize you'd been holding.

he smiled faintly and rested his head against your shoulder again, his hand grabbed yours, caressing it, as if reassuring you.

"i- it's not a big deal, right? niki?" you asked.

ni-ki's jaw tightened for the briefest moment, his outward calm masking the storm that's happening inside. maybe it's just making out but the truth? he's been thinking about it nonstop, replaying every detail in his mind and it gave him more clarity just how much he likes you... and that he had probably stroked his dick thousand more times since that day.

but he wasn't about to let you know that.

"no." he whispered, his lips brushing close to your ear, "it's not."

you turned to him, your eyes lighting up with relief. "great! thanks…"

before he could respond, you stood abruptly, brushing your skirt down. "well, i've got to go now. see you!" you said, smiling while giving him a quick wave.

ni-ki watched you go, his hand still resting on the seat where yours had been moments earlier. he sighed confused, running a hand through his hair.

"yeah, sure." he muttered to himself, half-heartedly returning your wave. his eyes watched you until you disappeared from view, and then he leaned back in his chair, the ache in his chest stronger than ever.

♱ classmate!niki who uses your birthday as his phone passcode.

♱ student!reader who's slowly getting more conscious and aware about how popular ni-ki is, but he's yours.

you went back to class where you notice girls were chatting together. "niki asked me to wait for him after class!" a girl squealed nearby, her excitement cutting through your thoughts.

your ears perked up liked a dog then stepped closer to eavesdrop.

"do you think he'll ask you out?" another girl added.

you scoffed audibly, unable to help yourself. the sound drew their attention and you froze as their curious gazes landed on you. blinking awkwardly, you mumbled an apology and quickly walked away.

you: are you busy after class?

you: are you going somewhere with someone?

ni-ki: oh, right. i'm just going to talk to the new class representative. like an orientation thing.

ni-ki: i can cancel, though.

you laughed loudly and shook your head.

you: no, no! don't cancel. we can hang out later.

later, the two of you were lounging on your couch, the TV playing in the background. ni-ki had his head resting on your lap, scrolling aimlessly on his phone but after a while, he sat and he set it aside. you could feel him staring at you.

"what?" you asked, not bothering to look away from your own phone.

he didn't answer immediately, instead he gently moved your hair to the side. his fingers were brushing lightly against your neck.

"stop." you muttered, still scrolling.

ni-ki chuckled softly. "i don't want to."

sighing, you set your phone aside as well, giving him an exasperated look. "why the hell do you keep doing this?"

"doing what?"

"i don't know, maybe the flirting, doing everything for me, following me around-"

"oh, i thought you already knew." ni-ki interrupted.

"knew what?"

"that i like you." he said casually, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

you blinked, taken aback, before scoffing. "how can you say that so casually…" you muttered under your breath.

he smirked at your reaction. "what? it's true. i thought you knew."

"i know that! but i just never heard you actually say it until now." you replied, your voice quieter than before.

ni-ki sat up slightly, cupping your face in his hands and forcing you to meet his gaze. "i like you, y/n."

you turned your head slightly. "i- i said i know that… you don't have to repeat it."

his lips curved into a mischievous smile. "you shy?"

you pushed his hands away, cheeks flushed. "i'm not!"

ni-ki didn't buy it, a chuckle escaped his lips. he reached down and grabbed one of your thighs, effortlessly pulling it over his lap.

"i bet you're going to stop being like this once i become your girlfriend." you mumbled.

he shook his head with a smirk. "hmm, i don't think so."

"rea- really?"

he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. "yes," he murmured. then, his arms wrapped around you. "come closer."

you scooted closer to him, your heart pounding as he tilted his head, capturing your lips in a series of soft, gentle kisses. slowly, the kisses deepened, his hands sliding to your waist.

your hands clutching the fabric of his shirt as his lips trailed down your jawline, every touch of his lips on your skin made you shiver.

breathless, ni-ki paused, his lips hovering over yours.

"you're hard." you said.

he kissed you again, deeply before pulling away slightly. "it's okay."

"but i want to..." you whispered against his lips. ni-ki smiled, reaching down and with a slow, deliberate motion, pulled his pants down, revealing his erection that's pulsing with anticipation.

he felt a rush of heat as your eyes locked onto him, the intensity in your gaze sending shivers down his spine. he reached out, cupping your cheek, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw.

his cock throbbed when he felt your fingers around it, light as feathers, stroking his hard length.

ni-ki's breath hitched as you lowered your head, your lips following the path your fingers had taken. "that's good..." he groaned out as you took him in your mouth. the sensation was electrifying, sending waves of pleasure crashing through him. your head bobbing up and down, gagging each time his cock hit the back of your throat.

he gripped your hair, his fingers tangling tightly in the soft strands causing slight pain you chose to ignore.

"yes, just like that." he managed to gasp, breath catching in his throat while arching into your mouth as the pleasure became overwhelming. ni-ki shuddered, a deep guttural sound escaping him, hips bucking wildly as he came, a hot burst of release flooding your mouth.

cum started to drip in the corner of your mouth, "don't let it out." he said, wiping the remains as he watched you swallowed it like a good girl, your eyes locked on his.

you sat beside him with a smirk playing on your lips. "you're a freak."

ni-ki chuckled at your remark. "for you."

you started making out again, the kiss charged with the afterglow of what had just happened. then you felt his hand slip down, stroking his member, which was already starting to stiffen again.

"you're still hard..."

"i know, right?" ni-ki groaned, looking so needy. "can i put it inside you?"

a/n: the only way i could write these days lol

please read Nishimura Riki as your boyfriend

read part-timers!niki x reader

read part-timers!niki x reader part 2

read snitch - reader x niki

read touché - niki x reader

read touché - niki x reader part 2

read exes - niki x reader

[crossbackpoke-check]

"Bees" [remixed, abridged], Claudia Emerson // "Letter to Someone Living Fifty Years from Now" [remixed. abridged], Matthew Olzmann // "Letter to my Great, Great Grandchild" [remixed, abridged], J.P. Grasser | Len Redkole, Nina Weiss, Brian Babineau, Christian Peterson, Mitchell Leff, Dave Isaac, Megan DeRuchie

[revelboo]

oof ouch ough that angst HURT please madam i'm begging you don't make that canon i'm gonna puke if i have to watch all the idw bots suffer like that - oh god and the tiny baby newsparks would be doomed, either their carriers will die trying to sustain them or they'll fade away, i hate it!!!!

you even used my suggestion of kitten-twins against me... ow. to heal my heart, may i request more of cyclonus and tailgate? hopefully their human's fear will fade into numbness then acceptance quickly, it'll be hard to stay in hypervigilant prey mode when tailgate's doting on reader like a little princess.

Yeah, that angst fic isn’t cannon. I like drama, but I couldn’t actually do that to any of them.

Chain Me Free Pt 3

Tailgate x Reader x Cyclonus

• The terror had faded some after seeing the smaller robot monster, Tailgate you remind yourself, have a nervous breakdown because you were upset. That uneasy fear is still there, nerves jangling, but Tailgate seems bent on overwhelming you with attention until you’re too frazzled to be terrified. You half suspect he’s decided you’re either his personal teddy bear or a beloved puppy. Neither prospect particularly awesome. Legs swinging as you hang on to the arm around your middle tucking you against his frame while he jogs to keep up with the scary one’s, Cyclonus’s, longer stride. Though after watching him calming Tailgate and talking him through what you’re positive was a panic attack, you suspect he’s probably a big softy. Even if he spends a lot of time just frowning at you, they’ve yet to hurt you. That has to be a good sign.

• “Cyclonus, wait up.” Reaching out his free hand, he catches Cyclonus’s hand and the bigger mech finally slows down for him. Interlacing his servos with Cyclonus’s, he shifts you to settle on his hip, feeling those warm hands on his arm. “How are they supposed to get their bearings if you go through the ship so fast?” Can feel your little heart beating against him, the rhythm oddly soothing. Knows Cyclonus is annoyed with him, wanted to give you to someone else, but you’d come to him. Them. And he can’t believe that it was truly random, wants it to be more than a coincidence. That you’re meant to be with them.

• “If you ever let them actually walk, they’ll probably get under ped,” he mutters, feeling Tailgate’s servos tighten on his own in offense. You’re not screaming at least, just dangling and looking around with an almost dazed expression. Still in shock over finding yourself in a strange place among aliens. Feels sorry for you, but he has enough to deal with taking care of Tailgate. Doesn’t need an alien stray.

• “Being small doesn’t automatically make someone a burden,” Tailgate growls, shifting you on his hip again. Like you’re a toddler and his grip is much too tight. Looking around, you feel almost numb, because his rambling explanation had only made things worse. You’re on a ship in space hurtling away from your home and they don’t know when they’ll be able to get you back. They also can’t fully explain how you’d ended up here, your brain filing his excited jabbering under ‘magic.’ And you tense when you see an even bigger gray mech, but it’s the glimpse of a human cradled in his palm, holding onto his servos as he cups them to his chassis that startles you. That person smiling up at the giant and laughing at something he’s said before spotting you and waving with a grin. And they seem okay. That more than anything else breaks through the lingering fear as your own hand weakly lifts, then they’re gone, carried away by their mech.

• “I’m not going to run if you let me walk,” you say, head turning to look at him and Tailgate hesitates. Because as much as he hates it, Cyclonus has a point. Not all the bots on board remember to look down and you’re tiny. Much smaller than he is. “You’re squishing me a bit,” you add, expression pinched and he stops in dismay, awkwardly shuffling you until one of his arms is behind your back and the other behind your knees. “This works,” you murmur and you offer him a hesitant smile that spreads warm through him as he ignores Cyclonus’s tired venting.

Previous

[starrygazers]

if touch could speak.

˖ ࣪⭑ ⸱ I'm working on a longer fantasy au piece for Mydei that I hopefully will see to finish :c also procrastinating on studying for my midterms lol. also I'm sorry if I write about Mydei's immortality a lot I hope it doesn't get repetitive lol, I just love this aspect of his character and I think it has so much potential

˖ ࣪⭑ ⸱ tags : hurt with comfort? established relationship, Mydei's touch-starved lol

˖ ࣪⭑ ⸱ featuring : Mydei x gn! reader

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

His hands are rough. They've wielded spears, taken countless of lives, and crawled back from death.

He doesn't belong among the dead or the living. Castorice looks at him like he's an anomaly, because he knows. His hands have knocked on death's door time and time again, and it never opened for him.

He doubts it ever will. Castorice never meets his eyes.

Mydeimos has learned from the past, taking his experience and applying it for the future that he knows he'll live to see. If everyone around him is doomed to agony, then he will keep to himself. If he is destined to walk a path paved from the bodies of his loved ones, comrades, teachers, and kingdom, then he will build walls as tall as the gods he worshipped.

He'll stay by his lonesome, where he can't hurt anyone else. Where no one else can hurt him. The only touch that he delivers is that of death, a warrior's farewell, from the tip of his spear.

Mydeimos has always fared himself a strong warrior. He didn't know his defense could crumble so easily, in such a short time, by just a mere touch from you.

Then again, he is a warrior of Castrum Kremnos, once thought to be undefeated, crumbling under the touch of a god, and he thinks you're a deity.

When you touch his cheek, Mydeimos feels warmth course through his body. It's a different kind of fire ─ not so much the adrenaline he gets during battle. It's a softer, kinder, gentler fire. It doesn't swallow him whole, it blooms slowly, leaving curious tingles where your skin ends and his starts.

When he leans his head to your touch, he feels rejuvenated. He thinks back of the lessons he had as a child ─ this must be what the gods feel when they drink ambrosia. A sweet sensation he wishes would last forever.

When he takes your hand in his, he feels something he rarely has the chance of holding ─ life. Your pulse, blood coursing through you. You're here, whole, with your warm smile and soft words.

Mydeimos' hands are rough. They've wielded spears, taken countless of lives, and crawled back from death. Yet, when he wraps his arms around your frame and pulls you closer to him, he hopes that it can convey the things his pride would never allow him to say:

I love you, please stay.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

©2025 starrygazers. do not repost, copy, translate, modify, or use for AI.

˖ ࣪⭑ ⸱ if you liked this, consider buying me a ko-fi! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

[yunjardi]

SIZE TRAINING WITH JAKE

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pairing: boyfriend!jake x girlfriend!reader

content warnings: smut [mdni], uprotected sex (wrap b4 u tap), size training, use of sex toys, dirty-talking, pet names (good girl, baby, princess, love), praise, fingering, spanking, oral (both receiving), lmk if i missed anything!

wc: 1.9k [short, i'm sorry guys :''( ]

a/n: another little drabble from me 2 u <3 ily my fellow jake sluts

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"i promise it won't hurt me," you pouted at your longtime boyfriend, jake, "we'll never know if we don't try."

you and jake had been together for quite some time now but have yet to have actual sex with one another.

sure, you've done things of sexual nature, but it pales in comparison to actually having 'real' sex. it's not like you were getting tired of getting eaten out and fingered by jake- you simply wanted to experience more of him.

and oh god did jake want to experience more of you.

the reason you two haven't gone as far as penetration was simply because of jake's size.

it seems cocky (no pun intended) for jake to say he's worried that he won't fit, but it's a genuine worry of his.

even you had to admit that his little fear was completely justified.

jake's dick really is huge.

even though you've seen his dick a million times, his size never fails to amaze you. he 100% gets an ego boost whenever he sees your eyes light up in surprise every time you see his dick.

"okay, love, we can try," jake agreed with a reassuring smile, taking you by surprise, "but that doesn't mean that i'm not terrified of hurting you, though." he managed to let out a chuckle despite his nervousness.

you never thought you'd see the day where he would finally succumb to your begging, but luckily, you were already a few steps ahead of him.

"don't worry, jakey, i've come prepared," you couldn't help but smirk, "wait here."

you got up from the bed and walked into your closet, soon walking out with a box containing three sex toys that you'd been meaning to show jake.

sitting back down on the bed, you opened the box to present the toys to him, each one getting progressively bigger than the last. jake was surprised at how dedicated you seemed to this whole process, and it turned him on to say the least.

"if you're so ready for this, you should hurry and take your panties off," jake smirked as he pulled you closer, now toying with the waistband of your panties. you let out a quiet whimper at his actions before obeying his orders, throwing your panties off to the side and crawling onto his lap, your bare cunt now on his sweatpants.

"that's more like it," jake chuckled sexily as he reached his hand down to your pussy, feeling how wet you've become, "look at you, you don't even have to be prepped. such a good girl for me." you nodded as you subconsciously began grinding your hips down onto his hand, craving his touch in the place where you needed it the most.

"aren't you supposed to be fucking the toys, baby? keep being a good girl and let me see how good you are at taking that puny sex toy," jake scolded you whilst pushing the box of sex toys toward you and urging you to pick one up to start using it.

you, of course, obeyed.

jake helped you get comfortable against the headboard before beginning to tease you once again, taking the first sex toy out of your hand and gliding it against your clit. jake couldn't help but get even more turned on at how sensitive you were despite the sex toy not even being inside you yet.

you let jake gently slide the sex toy inside you, your breath hitching slightly when it was fully inside you.

"you're doing so good, princess," jake cooed as he slowly pushed the toy in and out of your sensitive hole. you nodded with glossy eyes, trying to hold back your moans as jake picked up the pace.

suddenly, jake discarded the first toy, setting it off to the side before bringing his hand down to your entrance and swiftly inserting one of his long fingers, causing you to let out a soft moan at the unexpected sensation of his touch.

"jake-" you gasped out as he curved his finger upwards, grabbing onto his other hand for support as he added in another one of his digits. he couldn't help himself from lowering his head to get a taste of your cunt as he fingered you. come on, how could he possibly pass up an opportunity to tease you with both his fingers and his tongue?

your eyes rolled back as jake swirled his tongue on your sensitive clit while also still working his fingers in and out of you.

jake could fully get off by just simply doing this, but he had to remember the main objective at hand.

stopping suddenly, jake reached off to the side to fetch the second of the three sex toys, this one slightly bigger and wider than the previous. you held onto jake's hand as he slowly inched the new toy inside you, this one more of a struggle to take than the last.

"look at that, baby," jake flashed a pretty smirk, "you're getting better at this." he brought his gaze down to your stuffed entrance, the toy stretching you out just a bit more than the last. jake began to move the toy in and out of you gentler than last time, still worried that you may get hurt.

you couldn't help but squirm under his touch, becoming more and more eager to take him.

it hadn't even been 5 minutes with the new sex toy when you started to become desperate.

desperate for more.

desperate for jake's touch.

"babe, i need you," you managed to breathe out through the moans that escaped your lips, "now, please."

jake's ears turned red at your sudden begging, his pants somehow getting even tighter than they were before which he didn't think was possible.

"b-but we haven't even gotten to the last toy yet-"

"i need you to shut up and fuck me already; i can't take it anymore."

to say that jake took your statement and ran with it would be an understatement.

immediately, jake practically threw the sex toy to the side and took it upon himself to spread your legs further apart to get an even better view of your desperate hole. he could tell just by looking that fitting his entire cock in you would be a difficult feat.

"i'm worried about you, princess. i'm not sure if you can take it," jake teased as he slowly let his fingers glide up and down your soaking entrance which caused goosebumps to form all over your body.

"i can," you rebutted, growing impatient, "let me show you."

you scooted closer to jake and began to toy with the waistband of his sweatpants, causing his breath to get caught in his throat due to the suddenness of your actions. slowly, you pulled both his sweats and boxers down to reveal his throbbing cock. you couldn't help but moan at the sight before taking it into your hand and spitting on his tip, feeling the weight of it against your palm.

"fuck," jake breathed out with a deep groan, admiring you as you lowered your head down to his cock before finally connecting your tongue to it. jake tangled his fingers in your hair as you sucked on his sensitive tip, eventually letting more of his cock slide down your throat.

unexpectedly, jake motioned for you to sit back.

"i need to fuck you right know, baby; you have no idea."

you slowly leaned closer to jake before kissing him passionately.

"show me then."

at that, jake had you positioned on your back, readying you to take him.

butterflies erupted in your stomach as you watched jake line his tip up to your entrance before grabbing your hand. you nodded at him as a signal that you were ready.

jake ever so gently let his tip pass through your entrance, not being able to stop himself from letting out a groan at the sensation of finally feeling your tight walls squeeze around his cock. you were surprised at how quickly the soreness turned to pleasure although he was barely halfway inside you, beginning to moan at the feeling alongside him.

"does it feel good, jake?" you asked him shyly.

"so fucking good, princess," he responded before leaving a kiss on your neck.

before you knew it, jake bottomed out, his tip finding a resting place at your sweet spot which caused you to let out a whimper as you squeezed his hand.

his movements were painfully slow at first due to him not wanting to hurt you, but that only caused your desire to burn deeper.

"jake, i need more," you managed to whimper out between his thrusts.

"yeah? turn around then, princess," jake smirked, "fuck, i've been waiting for this." he couldn't help but suck in a breath once you turned around for him, your pretty ass on display for him and only him.

he left a harsh spank on your ass before gently sliding his cock back inside you, earning a moan from you. your eyes rolled back at almost every single on of jake's thrusts, almost rendering you silent at times as your brain and body struggled to process the copious amount of pleasure jake provided.

jake kept a tight grip on your hips as he thrusted deep inside you, feeding off your pleas for him to keep going though he was unsure of how much longer he'd last. your walls held onto every inch of his cock, desperately squeezing him with every movement no matter the velocity,

the feeling of finally having him inside you was euphoric to both yourself and him as you both kept a tight hold on whichever one of each other's body parts either of you could manage to grab a hold of.

it didn't take long for jake to feel a familiar sensation. that familiar sensation. the one he'd only ever been able to feel against his fingers until this very moment.

"can't hold on any longer, hm?" jake panted out as he used his strength to lift your upper body toward his, your back now flush against his toned chest, "do it, then. cum for me, princess." his words almost demanding and stern, or what you'd simply call hot if you weren't so dazed from his cock to the point that he has you thinking in shakespearean.

at that, you finally let the coil that was slowly building itself up in your core let itself loose.

the feeling of your arousal coating his length sent his mind into a frenzy, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. his strokes became sloppier as you ravished in his comforting yet arousing touch.

you didn't care that you could already feel your cunt becoming sore; you wanted more and jake was more than happy to please you to your absolute limit. that being said, you let him pound your pussy until he reached his climax. the two of you moaned in sync as a mix of his seed and your warm arousal wept from between your legs.

jake gently lowered your body back down onto the bed as he sexily brushed his hair back with his veiny hand. his unintentional sex-appeal drove you insane even immediately after you just let him fuck you silly - it almost gave you the confidence to ask for a second round if you were being completely honest, but alas, you were already sore enough and didn't want to push your luck.

"thank god we finally did that," jake looked up to the ceiling before turning over to give you a kiss, "i hope you're ready to do it even more because i'm afraid i can't get enough of you, baby."

"so does that mean..."

"round two?"

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a/n: I AM NOT AFRAID OF MONSTER COCK JAKE TRUTHING ‼️‼️

taglist: @axartia @jjhmk @valiantwastelanddelusion @jayroseyy @ayohahaha @asaheyow @lhsng @bunhoons @red-xherry @duolingofanaccount @leeis @jaeyunology @green-orangeade @imbaeksbae @sunghoonmybeloved @sh1mja4yun @leeheeheeseung @shjsnjkj

©yunjardi on tumblr 2025

[quitealotofsodapop]

Lmk au idea.

Wukong isn't MK's teacher. At least, not in the same way he is in the show.

In this idea I had randomly pop into my head I'm thinking that Wukong had gone above and beyond simply vanishing for 500 years and hiding out on FFM. He straight up changed his identity and went into hiding as a mortal. He says fuck off to being a demon god, fuck off to all the gods and celestials and all his titles. He retires, fully and completely, passing his crown off to his Stalwarts and just becomes a wanderer traveling around, doing odd jobs and never staying in one place too long.

At some point over the centuries he ends up back in the village that he left his staff in, or rather, whay it became. A sprawling metropolis of a city that a person trying to disappear can easily do so. He set up shop, having had many hats over the years he's able to easily pick up a humble job nobody would blink twice at. Mechanics are always sorely needed in large cities after all.

One day at his shop a hauntingly familiar fave appears at his doorstep. Pigsy's truck had broken down while he was out with baby MK on a supply run and Wukong's shop had been the closest mechanic they could find. Wukong could sense something was special about MK, but not what or why and after he fixed up the truck he spent the next hour or so reminding himself that he is not Sun Wukong anymore, he is not part of that life anymore. Unfortunately, or fortunately, Wukong's mechanic work was something Pigsy liked, a lot. The truck was running smoother than if ever did before and the price was a steal! Wukong quickly became the favorite mechanic shop for Pigsy's Noodles and MK began to show up more often at the mechanic shop (he crashed a lot of stuff ok). Wukong ends up becoming the cool mechanic dude who helped teach MK how to mod his hoverboard and would often drop cryptic but helpful advice to the kid, Wukong having settled with the idea that he can look after the kid at least since it doesn't look like Zu Baijie's decendant or the kid were going to go away anytime soon. This led to meeting Tang and Mei, which were... experiences. And Wukong just ends up being a family friend to the Noodle Gang who likes cold vegetarian noodles.

Then a Hero is Born happens. Wukong hadn't been there for that experience. He was "on a supply run" when DBK was freed, he was in a different town entirely. So he wasnt physically present when MK became the Monkie Kid. It doesn't mean he wasn't completely uninvolved, though. Wukong isn't stupid, he knows DBK would eventually be freed, and he also knew it was possible someone else would pick up his staff. Afterall the staff had chosen him, not the other way around. It isn't unfeasable to imagine it'd pick another now that it's owner has put it down. Plus it isn't entirely impossible to imagine whoever it is would seek him out, he was the last known person to wield the Ruyi Jingu Bang after all.

He left a series of visions and astral projected recordings in his cave. The first being triggered should anyone breach his cave, the vision MK first sees when he enters Water Curtain Cave, only it doesn't stop at Wukong just running off. The projection speaks.

Wukong's recording. Looking as laid back and amused as can be: If you're seeing this, congrats! You got past my unstoppable barrier! Unfortunately I'm afraid that you won't be able to find me, as I would have been long gone from this place and am retired! So if your here for an autograph I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave.

MK: WHAT!?

Wukong's recording, becoming serious and almost sad: If you are a friend, however. I want to say I'm sorry, but please don't go seeking me out. I am hanging up my crown and title as the Great Sage and the Monkey King, and I don't not wish to be disturbed. Over the centuries I've come to realize my whole life I've done nothing but hurt the people I care about, so... for everyone's sake... I'm disappearing so that I can't hurt anyone again. Ever. And if you find my staff, I'm sorry I can't be there to help you. But I'll give you a piece of advice I learned, believe in yourself. Even just a smidge can make all the difference.

MK is gobsmacked at the thought that Sun Wukong had just up and left like that, that he's been gone for a long time and won't be able to help. He decides if Wukong wasn't there to be a hero anymore, he'd do it for him. Just a smidge makes a difference, right?

And so the Monkie Kid becomes the Monkie Kid. Over the next season or so he struggles a lot with his powers, not having a proper mentor. See, unlike the rest of the Noodle Gang, since Wukong wasn't physically present when MK became the town hero he isn't ever explicitly told it's MK. MK literally just forgets to mention it to him, but he does his best to help where he can. Giving advice where he can.

Most everything else was done without his input, altho MK did find it weird that the Calabash seemed to think his mechanic friend was the Monkey King. It's the first hint he ever has that Wukong was not as he seemed, but he write it off as him simply thinking of Wukong as a mentor figure since he's always been supportive and gave helpful advice and the Calabash substituting the Monkey King for Wukong.

Even the Macaque episode was done mostly without his input, altho a certain black furred monkey was not happy that his attempt to lure Wukong out didn't work at all. Wukong had been busy with renovations to expand the shop at the time, thus where the "step into the strike" advice came from since MK had been helping Wukong with tearing down the wall.

The big reveal about Wukong being the Monkey King only happens during Revenge of the Spider Queen, when Wukong has no choice but to step in as the Monkey King. And believe me, he is absolutely not happy about the matter. He doesn't run away once everything is done and over, but it's very clear that he is upset by the way he avoids everyone and jsut sits curled up on the rooftop. When asked why he never told them, especially knowing MK was using his staff, he first points out MK had never explicitly told him about the whole Monkie Kid business so he had no reason to "know" anything about it. Then he jsut points to the destroyed city.

Wukong: This is what happens everytime the Monkey King appears. Destruction, death, and chaos. I didn't want to be that anymore.

This spun off from a convo on how Wukong likely felt abandoned by his mentor(s), beginning with Subodhi, the allies he made in Heaven before the war, Guanyin, and even Tripitaka when the monk passed.

Wukong, going by just "Wu", drifting along the centuries living a mortal life. Packs up and leaves whenever conflict or war breaks out, or when people start to get suspicious.

His number one rule? Never get attached. Never again...

He becomes a mechanic (a real "grease monkey" if you will). Although he loves medicine and herbalism, it simply has too many paper trails. Also cars are fun to tinker with and don't talk back most of the time. Less likely to make a connection.

He eventually returns to the village where he lay his Staff down for good. Just seemed right coming up to the 500 year anniversary of one of his biggest regrets. The village has since become a sprawling mega-city, open to humans and demons alike. There he plants his roots.

The biggest shock of his life comes when he sees his brothers faces and souls all over again. Three in new bodies, and one in the same. A certain fish demon had pretended he didnt recognise him, and Wu returned the courtesy - seems he wasn't the only one from the old days to retire.

He wonders if it was the right decision to settle in Megapolis...

Until the day Pigsy knocks on Wu's shop, breathless and carrying a wiggly baby human (?). His food truck had given up the ghost and the cook desperately needed repairs asap! Wu simply couldn't turn him away.

Through the conversation and the repair process, the wiggly baby maybe-human had stared at the monkey demon with absolute wonder. Wu isn't sure why until he overhears the cub blabble something into his father's ear.

MK: "Mon-ken." Pigsy, fond sigh: "No MK, that's not the Monkey King. He just looks like the drawing in your Baba's book." Wu, nearly drops the truck on himself: "Eh?" Pigsy, little embarassed: "Oh! Sorry. The piglet is convinced that you're the Monkey King. My partner researches mythology and stuff, and he fills the kid's head with all sorts of ideas." Wu, rolls out from under the truck with a cheeky smile: "It's no problem. You'd be surprised how often I get mistaken for him! Think its the fur." (*Wu shares a glance at MK, the baby human is still staring at him unconvinced. Wukong makes a unsubtle shush motion and winks - causing the little human to wiggle once more with joy. Pigsy sighs fondly once more, knowing that the boy will most definitely hold this moment dear throughout his childhood*)

With that one chance meeting, Wukong breaks his number one rule; Never get attached.

It's not his fault he fixed the truck so good that Pigsy became a loyal customer! And the pig demon began tipping him with free cold vegetarian noodles. And that the scholar at the shop and him started info-dumping together! And that the little human began seeing him as a beloved uncle...

Oh yeah. Wu is in too deep. Hopefully nothing too chaotic happens within the next few years or so >:3

You can say a certain monkey demon nearly had a heart attack when he learned that someone had finally taken up his Staff - and that it was his little buddy!! Also Sandy is back in the gang, so they can't pretend that they dont know each other for long.

Wu would *like* to step up and reveal himself as the Monkey King to MK - but he feels that would just make things so much worse. The kid's trust in him would shatter immediately. So it's better to leave his projections on FFM to do the physical training, and for Uncle Wu to provide him with much-needed emotional guidance.

Sharing this dm you sent in particular based on the "Macaque" episode cus it's a tasty piece of dialogue:

MK: "Is it really better to focus your power into every attack?" Wu: "Hm, that's a lonely way of thinking. And dangerous. Look at this hammer I use for example, it's strong but if I'm not careful an just bang away at metal, it'd hit hard but it'd cause more damage to myself and the people around me. But if I were to... step into the swing so to speak and not depend on the hammer but rather my own strength, it's easier to control and has less risk of hurting myself."

He had been doing renovations on the wall to expand his business at the time, thus why he was banging at the wall with a hammer.

Eventually the episode ends with Macaque calling desperately out to the battlefield - almost begging for his king to reappear. The shadow monkey is so occupied in his despair and anger that MK manages to slip free and reclaim his power.

MK promptly bullies Macaque into actually mentoring him. Macaque chuckles at the nerve of this kid, and agrees - but only as a truce until Wukong returns. After that, Macaque expects a rematch.

Unironically loving this AU

[energ00n]

Ok, making this clear now, this isn't an ask, but a message to those who keep bothering energ00n here. Some of yall are tripping hard or just are being plain ignorant or just being hateful cause y'all can never be happy & never touch grass for some reason.

That last post about Jazz being black and accusing energ00n here for being...idk, stereotypical or racist, is just plain stupid. Was there any racists moments they did or made? No. Was there any stereotypes? No. Was there any indication that he's a black man in all this and not a giant fucking robot in any sort of context whatsoever??? No! If anything, they're just treating Jazz like Jazz and in character in their own way, just cause they don't know the entire expansion of Transformers does not mean they are painting Jazz or any of character in a bad light. Like, for God's sake, I'm black, you wanna come at them with that shit then you better be ready to deal with my ass.

Secondly, those who are being ignorant or being downright annoying by saying this is bad, this awful, repeatedly asking questions just cause your ass doesn't wanna scroll down and read, then you might as well leave. Energ00n has answered the questions someone else beat you to, it's not that hard to read and scroll down. Plus, if your upset over a fan creation then this isn't the space for you, and who the hell takes the time & day to diss on a fan creation where nothing legitimately bad has happened. There is no proshipping, no racism, no hateful content, no misinterpreting anyone, none of that. Just a person who loves Transformers and wanted to share a really amazing AU with the world.

So please, leave energ00n alone and let them do their thing. They have made it clear multiple times, they're not an asshole for having boundaries, they're not a bad person and haven't done anything wrong. Get a life and go join a different fandom if you feel the need to critize someone for doing something they enjoy. Seriously, go after people who are problematic instead of waisting your time trying to justify an argument that never existed to begin with.

(Again, I'm sorry, just had to get it off my chest)

You're too kind to me!!

I've have a few black folks saying that my portrayal of Jazz is fine and it really warms my heart. I feel troubled that you guys even had to defend me because this is the most nothing burger situation ever. My Jazz was largely inspired by his character in Transformers: Exodus the TFP prequel novel, quotes and all. If I put any trope into Jazz, it's the Kdrama, anime, cliche love triangle trope, I have noooo clue what anon was talking about.

I'd like to note that you guys don't have to worry for me!!! I'll still get hotheaded at repetitive or weird asks but it's still entertaining to me than legit anger. If I really get stressed from asks or hate, I'll just shut off anon asks. I know how to handle myself, just want you guys to join in on the laugh whenever we get some weird asks lol

[ladyrosemone]

HEAR ME OUT 🗣🗣‼️

Using Google Translate here, sorry if something doesn't make sense

I love the angst plot about the neglected reader; and don't get me wrong, I love it more when the batfamily grovels for forgiveness from the "forgotten child"

But then...nothing happens, and I'm left...And now?

They either crumble under the obsession, or fight in an endless cycle, or give up and succumb to Stockholm syndrome. I love reading them, but I always wanted something...more.

And here I leave my contribution.

Reader Wayne -biological to follow tradition- abandoned LEADER of a underworld.

Stay with me;

Tired of being invisible and insignificant before the wonderful talents of Bruce's chosen children (not father, he never was), not even being a priority for Alfred (admittedly, he abandoned his daughter in favor of the Waynes, I think It is more credible that we go to the fifth plane for him) What do you do with free time, selfishness disguised as empathy and a lot of money at your fingertips? You open a brothel first.

You attract all kinds of people; drug addicts who would do anything for easy money and easier drugs, people in need of jobs and guidance, the low and forgotten of Gotham, the women (touching on the subject with all the respect it deserves) who have nothing to lose or with some extra mouths to feed. In short, everything that the city abandoned by God leaves aside.

Little by little, in silence and discretion, we become recognized; Deals here, influences there, and in a moment, we ruled the underworld. We offer all kinds of services to the villains of Gotham, alliances and protection, secrets and methods of elimination, lust and accompaniment, everything in a bit.

Do you remember that loan we took out when we left? Maybe Bruce or Tim found the charge on a document, and the purchase was...a house outside of Gotham? Who bought it? Dick? Jason? Maybe Cassandra or Stephenie? Well, whoever it was, it's a piece of junk about to fall down, so what difference does it make?

There is something more important to do. (There is always that with them, right?) Maybe it's too complicated a mission even for all of them together, or they just need that piece of the puzzle to win once again, whatever they need takes them to Gotham's underworld, takes them to Sanctuary.

How fun! New pieces have joined the board, and what pieces...In the style of his good friend Edward (The Riddler), leaves little clues that bring them closer to the reader, the Savior, to whom they all owe something and serve him.

Inevitably our ego (perhaps a savior complex or a degree of narcissism) makes us want to reveal ourselves to them, and we meet them at the suburban house they left aside.

Surprise! The unknown child is now the most influential crime boss of his generation! Aren't you proud? Of course, business and family don't mix.

All help is given with the Savior (us) in exchange for something clear, the profits do not come alone, and all he asks for is...Time together?...Of course.

Coffee chats with Bruce (the press mistakes them for a new conquest, disgusting), gymnastics with Richard (since when can you contort like that?!) reading with Jason (they have the same tastes apparently) playing video games with Tim (and hack a few government accounts) taking care of animals with Damian (You have a whole zoo with exotic rescued animals!) shopping with your sisters or just staying silent with Cassandra, even Duke gets his quality time! (Why they accepted him immediately, what does he have that I don't)

It makes them realize something they lost, the funny thing is they never had it in the first place, and knowing that hurts more than any wound.

We know that, and we use it (like everything) to our advantage. And in the end, with the service done and the day saved, we don't need any more of them, The door is over there!

Only that the sinner has already tasted God's forgiveness, why would he want to leave him?

So they keep coming back, trying to get you to leave that evil path (according to them) and come home, safe, to them. But not out of love (there is no such thing as love for a Wayne), but out of guilt, which becomes a need, which becomes an obsession.

And while we should be careful with that...it's more entertaining to be the puppeteer than the puppet. There is no compassion, there is no empathy, there is no affection or pity; There's ambition, there's status, there's power, and in a world like Gotham, that's all that matters.

And the bat family knows it; They are not stupid, they know that you are using them, like a dog waiting for a caress, a rope to be pulled to open the door, salvation itself...maybe it is their fault acting on them, but they will not let go of the crumbs that are given to them we give.

There is no happy ending, only an unhealthy relationship between the two; the most powerful playing, we know that if we keep pushing, a prison will be a more merciful destiny.

But we don't care anymore, not now that we have the world in our hands.

[pain-is-forever]

Theo wants to squeeze Argo back, but it all happens so quick he can't even begin to register anything. Aside from that smile. Argo's smiling. How could he be smiling right now? He just told Theo to kill him- and he's smiling. How could she have smiled when she asked that of him? Why do people keep smiling as they tell Theo to murder them?

"Andr-" Theo bites his tongue. Snap out of it. This isn't her. It's not- it's not the same. Get a grip. This is Argo. It's Argo. Not Andrea. You're not reliving this. You're not- you won't let that happen again. You promised her you wouldn't. You're going to keep your promise, aren't you?

"Argo- Argo, please. I can't- don't- gods damnit, I've already lost someone like that, I can't lose you, too-" Theo reaches out to Argo, wanting to hold them, to hug them forever and make everything okay. He doesn't know how, but he's sure he could figure it out, if only he had time-

Theo's so selfish. He's selfish in thinking he could fix it all by himself, that he could change Argo's mind about this. That he can just keep them here against their will. But it's Argo. He can't lose Argo. Argo, who was one of the first people to not give up on him.

Fuck no. He's not letting his friend die. Not like that. He's not killing another person, he simply won't let that happen. He wants to tackle Argo to the ground again, but stops himself. Argo's hurt. He's got two deities inside his brain. There's no talking them out of this. It's what they want.

Everything hurts. Theo's chest stings with guilt, his head is pounding, even his eyes hurt from the crying. He feels as though his legs are about to give out. Like he's not going to make it any longer. Like he's going to collapse and never get up again. He feels like Argo just told Theo to kill himself instead of them.

Argo is part of him, an inseperable part of him. He can't just get rid of that part as if it meant nothing. His bottom lip is quivering. He can't do it. He can't bring himself to raise his sword at his brother. There's just no way in hell he'd manage to do what he was asked.

Then, Argo's eyes turn white, and everything disappears. It's as if Kronos stopped time. Theo feels like he's floating in a pink abyss, Argo's body floating beside him. The scene doesn't feel real, deep down he knows he's in the woods, he sees the trees- but in his mind, he's in that pink abyss, nothing aside from himself and Argo there. He doesn't want this to be reality.

Memories flash through his head. The times they'd laugh together, the way he'd comfort Argo, that one time he gifted them a coat, all the times they fell asleep next to each other, the way they lived in the same house- adopted by the same man. This can't be the end. He can't let it be the end. He'll find a way to fix this. He'll- he'll go down to the underworld and drag Argo's soul back into his body. This time he'll succeed. He'll make sure Argo is alive and alone in their body.

But first, Theo has to do something he'll regret. Something so heart wrenching, so horrible, that he won't be able to sleep for at least a month because of it. Something he swore he'd never do. 'I'm sorry, Andrea. I have to- I know I said I wouldn't, but I have to-' gods, he feels so guilty. This is all his fault. He slowly draws his sword, his hands are shaking. His entire body is shaking.

Theo puts his foot on Argo's abdomen as an attempt to stop them from squirming. If they squirm, it's just going to hurt more. Theo wants to give Argo a quick death. His brother doesn't deserve to suffer like this. He can't make it painless, but he'll make the pain go away as soon as he can. So fast the body won't even register it. That's his goal.

He positions his sword above Argo's chest, locating the heart. A quick pierce through the heart, stopping function. It should be over quite soon. Spare him the pain. Just do it. Just- Just stab him. It's not that hard.

He breathes in, closing his eyes shut. He doesn't want to look at this. At what he's about to do. His chest hurts, it pangs with guilt and sorrow. His hands are shaking, the sword threatens to fall to the ground. He grips it tighter, takes a couple more deep breaths. He has to do this. He has to- Argo asked. And who is Theo to deny his brother's request? He calms the shaking in his hands, steadying his grip and the sword.

He shuts his eyes even more, so much so he starts seeing spots in the darkness of his eyelids. He inhales deeply once more and quickly brings his sword down on Argo, piercing through the heart. Theo's body crouches on its own with the motion, just to make sure the sword has fully gone through the body. A hole in the heart. Theo's entire body hurts, he fights back tears.

He opens his eyes. It's over. He did it. He made it. Oh, gods, he's killed someone again. Oh gods. He pulls his sword out of Argo's body, the wound starting to bleed. He collapses onto his brother's body, he doesn't even care that his face is on the wound. He's getting blood on his face. He doesn't care. He starts crying again. He stays like that for a while before moving his face to kiss Argo's forehead. "Rest easy, brother..."

This one won't come back. This one's dead for good. It's over. Part of Theo is gone. Argo is gone. Fuck, what has he done? This is so wrong. Tears mix with Argo's blood on Theo's face. He hugs his brother one last time before setting the body to the side and beginning to dig.

Theo wants to dig a grave. He can't give Argo the proper Greek burial, but he can give them a burial. And any burial is better than no burial. He's digging with his hands, he has no shovel and swords aren't exactly made for digging. Dirt getting behind his nails, pebbles in the way and tree roots interrupting, Theo persists. None of it deters him. He needs to do this.

It takes him a couple hours to dig a proper hole, but he manages to make it. He digs through his pockets and pulls out a single golden drachma. He gently opens Argo's mouth and places the coin on their tongue. He closes his brother's mouth and lifts the body, as if nothing else in the world mattered. He sets it down in the hole and pushes the dirt he dug away back into it. He pats the top out to smoothen it.

Then, he walks to find Argo's dagger. He comes back to his little burial site and stares at it. He gets angry. Why would this happen to him? Why him? Why does it always have to be him who loses friends? He rushes up to the tree next to the grave and starts slashing at it wildly with the dagger until he's exhausted.

Theo's exhausted. He's tired and angry. He falls forward, lodging Argo's dagger in the grave. He wants to dig his friend out. He wants to fix this. He has to- he can't lose this one. But he doesn't Argo wanted this. Argo wanted it, and Theo has to oblige.

"Why would you leave me...?"

Open Starter

TW: SELF HARM, attempted murder

I want to scream. I want to scream. She is in my head. Get her out. Get her out.

Argo refused to leave the forest, he's been there for a week. He can't hurt anyone in the woods- they can overpower him.

Argo has clearly been crying for.. hours. He looks like a ghost- he looks dead.

Argo is holding a dagger, the one his brother gave him. He's not really.. holding it. It's on the ground next to him- because he has stabbed and sliced into his own legs repeatedly- and is panicked; trying to stop the bleeding.

Make her leave. Make her stop talking. I thought she'd stop if I did this. Please- make her stop.

When you approach- Argo's eyes switch colors so fast you get dizzy.

"I-" He sputters. "I have to kill you."

ANYONE CAN INTERACT

(seriously I'm so bored. any blog (canon or non, epic or pjo blogs) I WANT INTERACTION!! :P (I swear I'm nicer than Argo is)

taglist (ask to be added or deleted): @orion-the-hunterpt2 @lilacnightshade @pain-is-forever @reyno-solis-real @faceless-bugger @unlicensed-field-medic @the-great-emperor-commodus @the-eclipsed-sun

[z4ync]

We seriously need more GBA related fics so here it goes- I NEED a fluff fic where Hipswitch finally finds out Karmor likes him.

I have a small scenario suggestion, but feel free to indulge in creative ideas of your own!

-> The gang go out on a little event, kinda like a rodeo for bounty hunters and cowboys and such(ever watched Helluva Boss? Imagine that one EP of the harvest moon festival). After the games and events are settled, all of the participants engage in a salon dance thingie as well as free drinks, just a silly little after event for everyone to relax and enjoy some socializing.

Hipswitch decides to not participate since he didn't know anyone in the rodeo, and also bcs the owners of the small bar in there weren't particularly fond of Obscurans(even if there were some in the rodeo). But then Karmor/Partner comes along and asks Hipswitch to dance with him, which he's surprised.

He tries to talk Partner out of inviting him and tries to convince him to look for a more "organic" partner instead, but Karmor refuses. So they go to dance and from there you may decide how Hipswitch finally persuade his own feelings for Karmor :D

I did however really want to bring out the fact that Hipswitch is afraid to love, since he probably doesn't think he's worthy of such a thing. And seeing Karmor loving him just...y'know?🥺💞 <- I'm very normal about them(lie)

Sorry for the ramble! Again, feel free to do what you wish!! 🩷

- 🌟

Awe thanks for the request, 🌟. It's so cute :D absolutely twin I'm so normal about them (LIES)

Twistin' and Turnin'

I LOVE THIS REQUEST. Gods I hope Mr crazy man GBA sees this and makes this anon request an episode of sorts, I'd give him my first born

Fluff

QUICK NOTE BEFORE WE START! if you haven't watched BvZ (go do it now) Karmor/Partner is mute and for the most part, in my head, communicates in sign language and big facial expressions. (Also I headcanon him as autistic because I am so he is too)

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠. . .

Almost (Sweet Music) by Hozier ↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

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Big day. Or at least that's how Albus had been sarcastically saying all day. Apparently the boys had found out about some rodeo that was coming to town and as a joke both Albus— the bastard— had made the executive decision, that the other three didn't get a say in, that they were going for the shits and giggles.

Karmor tried his damn hardest to tell him that he'd much rather stay in one place, that he wanted to stay home and read, but he'd got the other two on their sides and it's a lot easier to ignore hands then it is to ignore a voice

▄︻デ══━一

"they got free drinks" Albus whistled as they walked around, the events were beginning to settle and Karmor kept dragging Hipswitch and Albus away from the games to prevent a dick measuring contest from starting.

"not a single one of us should be drinking" Karmor signed. He'd gotten better at signing quickly, mostly to combat Albus' quick mind. "And anyways Hipswitch can't drink"

"come on partner, I'm sure you wouldn't mind a drink or two" Hipswitch's southern accent made Karmor melt, it always did. It was far less harsh than Albus and Attila's voices, and more solid than Mahatma's.

"dancing maybe, drinking no, Albus is just going to get wasted and—" he looked at his hands, trying to remember the sign for "annoying". He ran through a few signs before just flipping off Albus in frustration, for a normally calm and sweet person Karmor was easily annoyed by inconveniences like forgetting.

▄︻デ══━一

Karmor stared longingly at the crowd of people dancing their hearts out, Kissing the people they love, singing their voices away. He'd never been good with his confidence, so he was struggling to ask the Obscuran at his side to dance.

He didn't have the words, literally and figuratively, and couldn't get Hipswitch to look at him. Maybe he was just—

"Partner, are you alright?" Hipswitch lightly poked Karmor's arm, scaring the living daylights out of him and causing him to fall out of the chair he was sitting in— knees up to his chest and the only thing touching the seat of the chair being his feet, obviously, so he was already unstable.

He got up quickly, nodding and sitting back down, before standing up again and forcing down all the nerves that bubbled up his throat and through his skin. "Dance with me." it was supposed to be a question, but it didn't seem like it was

"What?" The other man laughed "dance with ya? Partner, I'm not too sure I'm the greatest to dance with, you might want someone more... Organic, for that." He tried to de-sway the man from the idea, but Karmor is stubborn.

"dance with me" it was obvious he wasn't taking no for an answer.

Hipswitch sighed, his metal man's coming up to ruffle the mute man's hair "don't say I didn't warn ya" he said it like he had no choice in it— which was a lie, he could've said no, but Karmor would start sulking and wouldn't do anything else.

Hipswitch could've stayed there all day; Karmor's hand in his and the biggest smile on his face as he dragged him to the very edges of the dance floor.

But of course the second his foot hit the dance floor a partner song blasted through the pavilion, one of those slow ones reserved for couples and families. But Hipswitch agreed and he wanted nothing more than to make Karmor keep smiling.

"I'm gonna step on your toes" he warned, but Karmor only shook his head no, tapping the rhythm into Hipswitch's back.

Karmor's eyes were everywhere but Hipswitch, as it was so unbearably difficult to hold eyes contact with someone you liked.

Hipswitch always noticed that, and he'd ask about it but it would make Karmor let go of him and he'd already sunk into the warm metal man. Once he was attached it was hard to get him off, proven most by if you put the perpetually cold man in a warm bed, you wouldn't be able to get him out without luring him with Hipswitch and food.

A few girls had asked Karmor to dance, but just shook his head and signed "I'm not good company" or "I can't dance"

There was another thing, he always needed Hip— oh. OH.

The realization hit him like a run of bricks. Albus wasn't just playing with him, right? Whump— Karmor— Partner was always looking for Hipswitch, he was always near him, was what that what Albus was talking about

He took a moment to think, the feeling of the human's fingers tapping something into his back. It was a Rhythm of something no one knew, not even Karmor knew himself.

"Partner... I have a question" he looked down at the human. His eyes were on him expectantly. "Albus has been... Sayin' stuff, I want to know if they're true."

Karmor looked nervous, guilty, and his face was 6 times more red than before. He nodded, and had Hipswitch lead them out of the crowd. He longed to be back in it, no matter how loud crowds were, he enjoyed that.

"what has he been saying?" Damn Albus and his loud mouth.

"he's been saying..." It took Hipswitch a moment to form the words, mostly because he could ruin everything up to this and because of Karmor's unwavering stare. "Things about you likin' me"

Karmor wanted to run, to scream, to cry, to kill himself— but his voice was so shot that he can't really scream well and his hand was still in Hipswitch's so the other options weren't on the table

"and if they're true?"

"I wouldn't mind"

Karmor's eyes lit up, he thought that he was gonna have to take Hipswitch's gun and shoot himself, but he didn't! Hurray!

"it's true I like—" he stopped, he felt like a kid again, even if he didn't remember what that was like for him. Like felt too childish, to compare what he felt to just like was a crime, it was wrong

"I love you" Karmor's eyes squeezed shut, he couldn't open them. what if Hipswitch looked uncomfortable or disgusted.

Karmor was startled by arms wrapping him in an embrace. He started crying, he didn't know why he just did.

"I love you too"

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A/N. Sorry if this is all over the place, I'm not too good at writing and I actually haven't gotten to the most recent episode of BvZ yet because each episode is like an hour long and I end up passing out during them.

[saturnzskyzz]

Laugh for me

Lee: Thanos Ler! Nam-gyu

A/N: I saw a post that was made on tiktok (I saw the image on here cause I don't have tiktok no more 😔) about Nam-gyu tracing Thanos's tattoo's and that Thanos was tryna hold in his giggles, So now here we are :]

Enjoy!

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In the ordinary life of the "Thanos world" as the rapper likes to call it; he and all that was rest of the players had successfully played another game to earn money. Thanos and Nam-gyu, who's always attached to the back of his leg, were chanting while skipping to their respected beds to chill.

"A SUCCESSFUL WIN!" Thanos shouted, while almost near their beds.

Nam-gyu smiled at the playfulness. He raised his fist to silently appluad their victory.

Now to their beds, with Thanos sitting on his, while Nam-gyu glued to his right side, but he didn't care. They were chilling while analyzing everyone else who looked distraught and panicked from major losses and just fear.

"What a bunch of sad souls." Nam-gyu said, putting on his fake empathy face. As he did, he turned to meet Thanos in the eyes, who also turned his head with a pretending saddened face. As they locked eyes, they couldn't help but giggle like a bunch of high school girls as they're way too high off their ass from the pills that Thanos liked to carry around.

"They'll get through it, bro. One way or another, that ihis." Thanos giggled, putting a hand on Nam-gyu's shoulder as leverage because, good god! The man was leaning almost off the bed to fall to his "death," he liked to imagine.

Nam-gyu glanced down at the hand, analyzing the tattoos that was on it. There was a black ring around his middle finger, as well as a very detailed tattoo right in the middle. He looked up at Thanos, and then back to the tattoos, until he realized that he had also had a line going straight down from his neck on the side. Of course, one could think to touch it.

As Thanos was still analyzing everyone else, he brought up his hand to trace from the top of his neck tattoo, following it down to where it met the jacket.

"AAH- watch it, man! What the fuck are you doing?" Thanos jolted, quickly looking at Nam-gyu who was just as shocked as he was. He covered the side of his neck while looking at him.

"Nah, I'm sorry dude. I just thought I'd look at your tattoo's." Nam-gyu said, talking with his hands- the same one that caused Thanos to scream.

"These tattoo's are AMAZING! got them done as quick as possible. You can look all you want. Go on!" he said, turning his head to the side to show his neck tattoo once more. This brought a smile on Nam-gyu's face.

"Woah, sick!" He said, reaching his hand once more to touch the tattoo again. Once more, Thanos screamed.

"H-HEY! no touching! Touching this one is off limits." Thanos demanded, pointing at his neck as he saw how Nam-gyu's shocked face go from a wicked smile.

"Oh really? Is the all legend, Thanos, sensitive on his neck?" Nam-gyu asked devilishly. As he said the word "sensitive" he used both hands to emphasize that word by wiggling them in the air, sending shivers down Thanos's spine.

"No way, bro! I'm too cool to be sensitive." Thanos explained, crossing his arms.

"Then show me!" Nam-gyu said suddenly, nodding his head.

"Show you what, boy?"

"Let me trace your neck tattoo. That'll prove that you aren't sensitive." Nam-gyu explained what he meant without giving away his evil smile.

"Why would I do that for?" Thanos may be high, but he was nervously high now. Why would he want him, the legend rapper, to prove that his neck isn't sensitive? Most specifically, ticklish at that!

"You've beat these game before- these people call them brutal! Surely you can handle my touch, dude." Nam-gyu tried to reason with him. That seemed to change Thanos's mind quite quickly.

"Of course I have! Touching me is NOTHING!" Thanos proudly said. If he were to take this as a challenge, then so be it!

"Then let me trace your neck tattoo!" Nam-gyu smiled now, getting excited by what he's assuming he's about to discover.

With those words, Thanos Whipped his head to the side to show off his neck tattoo with a challenging aura around him, never once uncrossing his arms. "Go for it, man!"

With that, Nam-gyu decided to use one arm to grab at his shoulder, and then used his other to trace the tattoo. He was looking at Thanos's face the entire time to see if the light touch would cause Thanos to break.

For Thanos, he was desperately holding in his giggles. They were wanting to come out so easily! But Thanos didn't let them. He held them in, while trying not to make a face, but his eye was definitely twitching at the sensation, and Nam-gyu could see that clearly.

With a chuckle, Nam-gyu decided to ditch the tracing idea, and went for scratching the area instead. That seemed to throw Thanos of completely.

His giggles came bursting out. Traitors!! He couldn't help but to push at Nam-gyu with one hand while covering his mouth with the other.

"Hehehehey- stohop it maAHAn!" Thanos muffled out.

"This is AMAZING! You couldn't even last one second, HA!" Nam-gyu decided to use four of his fingers to scratch at his neck now, resulting in Thanos to squirm a bit.

"Yohohou're dehehestROYING MYHY EHEHEHGO!" Thanos couldn't help it, this was so embarrassing! The light blush on his features couldn't be stopped either.

Nam-gyu didn't say anything after that. He was too focused on watching Thanos crumble by a few scratches to the neck. Who knew Thanos was ticklish on such a silly spot like his neck?

"Fuhuhuck OHOFF! yohohou bihihitch!" okay, that might've been a stretch. But the tingly feeling shooting down his entire spine was getting him in a dizzy loop.

Nam-gyu definitely didn't take that one bit. "Oh, so you want to call me a bitch now? I see. Well take THIS!" as Nam-gyu said this, he suddenly went for his sides.

Everyone was alarmed by the scream that Thanos released.

"AHAHA, WAHAHAIT! IHIHIHI'M SAHAHA-" he could barely form sentences at this point. He grabbed onto his friends wrists to try and push them off, but the longer he kept going, the weaker Thanos had gotten.

"No WAY you are apologising now! You called me a bitch, so take it like a man." Nam-gyu said, inching up to his ribs, never once staying on a spot.

"AAH-AhahahAHAhahaha, cohoho'mohon BOY! ihihit wahahas a slihihip UHUHUP! You truhuhust mehehe!" he squirmed even more by the new feeling on his ribs.

"Well, I didn't take it as a joke! So this won't be a joke either." as he said this, he was inching closer to Thanos's armpits, and Thanos panicked.

"WHAHAHIT- wahahit WAIT!" He said quickly, throwing his hands in the air to stop Nam-gyu in the process of him going for his death spot.

"What? You can't take your tickles?" Nam-gyu asked, teasingly, making Thanos go even redder.

"Ihihi'll doho anything, juhust please! Dohon't go the extreme, man!" Thanos tried to reason, which he became hopeful as he saw Nam-gyu actually think about his request.

"Hmm.." But there was no answer. He was left with hands stuck to his highest set of ribs, with Nam-gyu looking up to the roof to ponder.

"Ihi-...Naham-su?" Thanos said, getting his name wrong as always.

Nam-gyu snapped back to reality by the name, giving Thanos a smirk. "I almost considered it, Thanos." Nam-gyu said, irritated, as he gripped onto his ribs slightly more, causing Thanos to tense up with anticipated giggles.

".. Whahah-" he was shortly cut off by his friends voice.

"Laugh for me, Thanos." was all Nam-gyu said before going straight for his armpits, enlightening yet another scream from the man beside him.

He squeezed his eyes shut, and gave himself a tight hug as to ensure and ground himself from the sensation that ran through his entire body.

"YOHOHOU BIHI- IHIHI MEHEAN- AHAHAHAHA."

Yeah.. Maybe correct yourself this time, Thanos. You're gonna be there for a while.

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This was short lived.. But, anyway! I hoped you all enjoy! :] (totally not posting this at midnight)