#if you can again i'm sorry it's short and bad

[vbecker10]

For either Loki or Bucky… dating someone who uses edible glitter in food just because. They love glitter anyway, but sparkly food just brings an extra spark of joy.

For the record, I’m talking about the mica based glitter, not the plastic stuff. Makes the food sparkly, does no harm to your digestive system. Also tasteless and has no texture.

Scared of a Little Glitter?

Pairing: Bucky x female reader (Y/N) new relationship

Summary: Bucky spends the night at your apartment for the first time and he learns you have a very interesting food habit when he offers to make you coffee in the morning.

A/N: This is so adorable @firedrakegirl ! Lol I absolutely love this request. Thanks so much for sending it. I hope you like it! Sorry it took me literally forever to get back to writing it. Thanks for waiting! 💚

You open your eyes slowly when you feel a soft kiss on your cheek. "Good morning doll," Bucky says quietly, you can hear the smile in his deep voice. His metal arm is wrapped around your waist, keeping your back flush to his bare chest as your legs tangle with his under the covers.

"Good morning handsome," you smile sleepily, turning your head far enough to kiss his lips lightly without slipping from his comfortable grasp.

"Want some coffee?" he asks.

"Yes please," yawning as you nod and cover his metal arm with yours, your fingers intertwine with his.

"I'll need you to let go," he whispers in your ear. You pout and he chuckles in response as you let go of his hand. "It'll only take a few minutes," he kisses your shoulder from behind then pulls off the covers and gets out of your bed.

You roll over resting your chin on your palm as you watch him bend to pick up his jeans from the floor and slip them back on. "Enjoying the view?" he smirks when he looks up and makes eye contact with you.

You giggle, shaking your head, "Nope."

He laughs and walks to the edge of the bed, leaning down to kiss your lips when you look up at him. "Liar," Bucky winks at you, pulling his lips away from yours much too quickly for your liking.

"Y/N, can you come here?" Bucky calls from the kitchen moments later.

You get up from bed quickly, concerned by his tone of voice. Throwing on Bucky's discarded shirt and a pair of shorts you leave your room and call back, "Everything okay?"

He waits until you enter the kitchen to respond which only makes you more curious. "I think your milk went bad," he sounds unsure of himself as he holds the container as far away as possible in his metal hand. "It's green," he shakes the milk slightly and the colors swirl together. "And blue?"

You laugh, "There's nothing wrong with it. I added glitter to it."

"Glitter?" he keeps his eyes on the container as the glitter slowly settles to the bottom and the liquid becomes white again.

"Yep," you confirm with a nod.

"Why?" your very confused boyfriend asks as you take the milk from him and unscrew the cap.

"Cause it's pretty," you answer, "Obviously."

"Okay sure but now we can't drink it," Bucky says as he watches you pour it into your mug. "Wait, Y/N-" he cringes.

"It's totally fine," you tell him with a smile. "It's not the same type of plastic glitter Tony uses in his pranks."

"It's not?" the super soldier furrows his brow as you add a bit of sugar and mix your coffee. You pour a little milk into his mug and he groans quietly.

"Nope, this is made for food," you explain. "It just makes it sparkly and fun." You pick up his mug and hand it to him.

He looks down into the mug, watching the glitter swirl around the coffee. "I'll take your word for it," he puts the mug down on the counter.

"Oh come on, give it a try," you blow on your coffee lightly then take a sip. "I promise you can't taste it and it doesn't have a weird texture or anything."

"I'll pass," he shakes his head.

"Scared of a little glitter?" you giggle.

"I'm not scared, I just don't want to drink it," Bucky says.

"Mmhmm," you hum as you walk past him to put the milk away and grab the ingredients to make breakfast.

"I'm not scared," he insists, folding his arms across his chest.

"I believe you," you say with a smirk, closing the door to the fridge. "Can you make some toast? Breads over there," you point towards the bread next to your toaster.

"Sure," he nods, thankful you've dropped the glitter topic.

Setting the eggs next to the stove you ask him, "Scrambled or omelet?"

"Scrambled please," he kisses your cheek after he loads the four slices into the toaster.

"Coming up," you grab a pan and a bowl. Bucky stands behind you, his arms around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder. After cracking a few eggs into the bowl you ask him, "Red or purple?"

"What?" he lifts his chin.

"Red or purple?" you ask again without any further explanation.

"Red?" he responds and you giggle at how unsure he sounds as you open the cabinet next to you and pull out the red mica glitter. "No," he groans but it's too late.

"What?" you play innocent as you whisk the eggs.

"Glitter again?" Bucky sighs deeply.

You take another sip of your coffee and hold it up for him, "You can't taste it. Give it a try."

"I'd rather not," Bucky mumbles.

You laugh, "You remind me of the grumpy guy from green eggs and ham."

"I have no idea what that means," he says, "But green eggs sound gross."

"That's what the guy in the book said," you smile as you add the red, glittered eggs to the pan. "But he never tried them, he just decided he hated them cause they were green."

"That's a fair reason," Bucky chuckles.

"Anyway..." you roll your eyes, "His friend keeps trying to get him to eat it and when he finally does-"

"He dies," he laughs louder and you swat him with the towel you keep on your stove handle.

"No!" you scold him, trying to keep from laughing. "He realizes they are delicious."

"That was my next guess," he smiles and kisses your cheek.

"I'm sure it was," you say sarcastically as you continue to cook the sparkly red eggs. He watches over your shoulder and you look up, kissing his neck. "Bucky, trust me. You won't even notice the glitter."

"Okay," he finally agrees and you smile as the toast pops. "I'll grab plates. You want butter for your toast?"

"Yep, thanks," you smile to yourself knowing you rolled the stick of butter in pink glitter a few days ago.

Bucky laughs in disbelief from behind you, "Really? Even the butter?"

"I couldn't help it," you tell him honestly when he comes back with two plates. One plate has toast with pink, melted butter and the other has plain toast. "No butter for you handsome?"

He raises an eyebrow at you to answer your question and you giggle then put half the eggs on each plate. Bucky sits next to you at the dining table, staring at his food in silence as he pushes the eggs around with his fork. You wait patiently as he finally scoops the smallest bit possible onto his fork and holds it up to his mouth. He looks over at you and you smile to encourage him.

"The things I do for you," Bucky says dramatically just before taking a bite.

You drink your coffee and he looks at you with a bit of a shocked expression. You smirk, "Can't even tell there's glitter in it can you?"

"You're so annoying," you shake your head and eat your eggs.

"No," he admits.

He pulls your chair closer to him, "You love me."

"I know," you smile and kiss his cheek as he steals a piece of your pink buttered toast, "But you're still annoying."

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did ❤️❤️ Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

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[interruptedtrance]

Stress relief (franco x reader)

Smut; 18+

contains: calling franco master, nicknames (amor), reader being a brat, being used as stress relief, hands being tied behind the back, spanking, using a ruler, crying, aftercare

masterlist

“come here”

“yes master”

“over the desk”

“i'm sorry, what?”

slamming down his work, “bend over the desk, i've had enough of you amor” now slightly getting up from his chair, pointing where he wants you on the desk, “you have been such a brat, teasing all morning, disturbing me while i work, and now again walking around in a skirt that doesn't even cover anything!”

hesitation fully leaving your body, you move to his desk and bend over it, “i'm sorry master” you let out a small whimper.

he gently runs a hand on the inside of your thigh, before roughly grabbing your mound, and ripping your panties off you, “amor,” he inhales a deep breath, only making you more worried, “i want you to be quiet, and let me use you as stress relief.”

you lightly tremble, “yes master”, you feel franco grab both of your arms and pull them behind your back, firmly holding them to your lower back. his other hand, working off his tie, and carefully binding your arms together, making sure the knot isn't done too tightly.

soon franco sits down and returns to his work, while reading over some documents he gently traces his hand along your thigh, every now and then giving it a gentle squeeze, making you let out a tiny breath.

but the touches don't stop there, his hand moves to your ass giving it a rough squeeze, pulling a moan from you. “what did i tell you?” he questions without easing up his grip on your ass.

“to not make any noise”

“and what did you do?”

“i made noise, i'm sorry master” you knew better than to piss him off even more.

“amor, what do brats like you get?”

“they get punished sir”

“that's correct amor, now pick a number between one and five”

hesitating a bit, before you answer “four”.

“four times five is twenty, exactly how many swats you will be getting”

“what, why so many?” you try protesting. but franco now pulls you over his lap.

“why twenty, well you chose four swats, and the five is for every offence you have done, i see that before each session you will need to explain why you are getting them”

“yes master” you hang your head in defeat.

“can we start? why are you getting the first set?”

“i went over my spending limit”, as soon as those words came out you felt the first slap on your right cheek, the second soon following to your left, and the next two landing in the middle, each one making you hiss out in pain.

franco now gently rubbing your ass, “you should be thankful it wasn't for every dollar you went over, now what's the next thing?”

“i wore short skirts in the hopes of getting your attention sooner”

“shame you didn't ask for it” and with that another set is done, he makes sure to hit the exact same spots to really drive the message home, each spank harder then the last, making you cry out in pain.

franco is still gently caressing your bruised ass, and cooing at you to get you to calm down, “aaa amor it's not so bad, i wouldn't be doing this if you were good for me.”

“i disturbed you while you worked”

franco didn't start as soon as you stated what you did wrong, he caressed your ass for a second longer, “the next round will be with a ruler.”

“yes master” and again, in the same pattern he abused you ass, this time laying down even harder smacks making you shed a few tears.

“what color amor?” he questions, while gently running one hand over your burning cheeks, and with the other grabbing the implement.

“green master” you say with a tremble.

“alright amor, for what are you being punished now?”

“i didn't listen when you said i had to be quiet”

“correct” franco gently drug the ruler up your thighs to your cheeks, making sure both of them felt the ruler equally. when he brought the instrument to your ass, he held it there for a moment, and just gave you a few light swats with it, not enough to hurt, just enough to sting a bit, making you release a breath you didn't know you were holding.

“and what is the last thing amor?” he questioned, while pressing the ruler into your burning skin.

“i've argued with you”

before he spanks you for the final four times, he gently kisses you on your head, and gives you another four light swats, making sure to spread them out so it doesn't hurt too much.

“thank you master” you say, while he is undoing the knot.

“stay over my lap for a second” he orders, while moving to grab something from his desk drawers, in the meantime you move and fold your arms under your head so it's being supported a little.

“this might be a bit cold amor” he mentions, before he softly traces his palms against your red cheeks to spread the ointment so you don't bruise. the cold from the ointment makes you let out a content breath.

he moved you, so that you are now sitting on his lap, careful of the area where he has delivered the hardest spanks too. “did the ointment feel good?” you only nod in return, now tired from the punishment.

franco gently grabs your face in his hands, and with his thumb lightly wipes away the tear streaks on your face, before softly connecting your lips together.

[bitter-me]

Hello! could you do Asaba Harumasa with A Loid Forger!Male!Reader who is his Fiancé? (For real not for a misson) And could you do like some general headcanons of it please?

Spy X Executive Officer

Harumasa Asaba | M. Reader as Loid Forger [SpyXFamily]

----------

"You gotta be careful. Because there's someone else back home who'd be heartbroken if anything happened to you."

----------

General Headcanons

First of all, the moment you two met Harumasa knew you are a spy. Come on now, he's responsible for Section 6's reconnaissance for a reason. In the main story he literally recognized the mercs are closing in on them by their shooting pattern alone. Are you kidding me.

Secrets out and from then on he'll rub it in your face that the Twilight was caught by an Executive Officer and through this process of endless teasing and "accidental meet ups" you two gotten quite close.

Yet despite making teasing the absolute daylight out of you his main mission. Harumasa would always comes to you for help with some missions of his. Come on! He has Twilight on speed dial! What kind of person would he be if he didn't abused use this power? The amount of times you have to pretend to be him for a meeting... too much to even bother counting..

Harumasa seems to have developed a habit since you two got together. One of which is how he looks like a wounded animal whenever you have to "be in a relationship" with someone. He's joking of course. But always seem to jump at the chance whenever Harumasa saw it.

But then again.. you're also using him for your own work as well. HAND has a lot of useful information and Departments. Having an insider on speed dial just make things ten times easier. In short both of you are using each other.. until it became something more as you two craves more with each interactions.

"You're cheating on me! I know I don't have much time, yet you--" "Darling, I am not seeing someone behind your back, it was a mission. We have this conversation before."

Endless teasing. Just endless.

By the way, are you a cat person? Well it doesn't matter you are a cat person now. Say hello to your son/daughter. Harumasa canonically has a cat, so..

Would jokingly as you to teach him some espionage with the excuse that it'll help him be a "more outstanding scout." You didn't, of course. Espionage is your thing. As if you'll let him steal your thunder like that.

Oh no. Harumasa isn't in the office again. He must have taken a sick leave. But how could he get another one? What? He has a doctor's note?

Yes, he would probably, maybe, say "please" a lot, just to get you to write him a doctor's note. Hey! Not his fault that your public image is a Psychiatrist! That just makes your notes 100% legal! And you are this awesome boyfriend of his right? So.. please~ he promise to give you kisses if you do write it~

Although Harumasa seems to know he can't use this trick a lot and uses it sparingly.

The proposal? It's the grenade proposal. I'm sorry but it's cute and it kinda fits ZZZ's world building. Both of you are running from the Ethereals and have gotten cornered. What a bad day it was. You were just about to propose when Harumasa got a call for a mission, since you don't want to waste any time. You decided to help your lover so that you can finally propose when all of these are done. But no, the universe hates you and decided to do this instead and damnit! You lost the ring! Cornered with nowhere else to go you spotted a grenade not to far away. Acting out of instincts you took it, pulling the pin and saying your vow as you put the "ring" on Harumasa's finger.

He ruthlessly tease you about the proposal though. Saying something like "Took you long enough. And here I thought I would die first before knowing the feeling of a ring on my finger." and, "A grenade pin? Seriously? How come those men and women you "marry" for a mission gets an actual ring while I--you're actual lover--only have this? I'm hurt!"

In the end you did get him an actual ring. As he deserved.

----------

Despite usually being seen slacking off. Harumasa works hard on his missions. After all, there's a reason as to why he's a member of Section 6. Naturally.

Yet he's not invincible. Harumasa knows that better than anyone else. Which is why he is now lying in the hospital bed with a sore throat and a heavy chest. It felt as if he were to somehow lie in a wrong way he'll start coughing out a lung. But he doesn't have to worry. He has [Name}. And that man would go full on doctor on him in a heartbeat.

"You're an idiot sometimes." [Name] sighs, sitting on the chair by his lover's bedside. He can't believe Harumasa had willingly injected that thing. Onto him like that. Sure, he understands. Harumasa can't let that thing exist in the world. But seriously?! Did he even think for one second what could have happened to himself if he weren't this lucky?! What if it's a one time thing?!

"You idiot." He whispers underneath his breath.

Harumasa really has to be careful.. because there's someone else back home who'd be heartbroken if anything happened to him.. and that person, is him. [Name] Forger.

For all of his time as a spy. No one had ever made him feel so.. complete. The thought of settling down never crossed his mind. But with Harumasa.. he might just consider it. But..

How is he supposed to settle when the one he loves is constantly on death's door?

[Name] snapped out of his thoughts the moment he registered the warm feeling on his hand. Harumasa's on top of his. Turning his head towards him, [Name] saw Harumasa giving him a reassuring smile. "I know.. but I'm your idiot."

"Don't worry too much. I'm not going anywhere. After all, no one cares more about my life than me."

[larluce]

Another angst merthur AU that occured to me recently.

So remember the 50 First Dates movie? where a girl has short-term memory due to an accident and forgets the boy when she falls asleep, so he resolves to win her over again each new day.

Well, what if Merlin had this condition?

It would be during "The Secret Sharer" chapter when Merlin goes with Gwaine to look for Gaius after Arthur didn't listen to him about Agravaine. In this AU Merlin doesn't get there in time, Gaius dies and, in his rage and sorrow, his magic lashes out and destroys the cave they were in, killing Morgana and Agravaine in the process. Gwaine gets out there in time but Merlin ends up under the rubble, so Gwaine, after trying to dig Merlin out in vain, goes to the citadel to get help.

Arthur and the rest of the knights arrive there as fast as they can and dig for hours. Gwaine doesn't tell Arthur about Merlin's magic, he just says they found Agravaine conspiring with Morgana, that Agravaine killed Gaius and, suddenly, the cave collapsed. Arthur digs more desperatly, filled with guilt and not wanting to accept Merlin is dead. Time passes and they find Morgana's and Agravaine's corpses, but not Merlin's. The knights try to tell his king there's no way Merlin could've survived this, that he's gone, but Arthur won't listen and keeps searching.

Finally, when the sun is about to rise, they find Merlin unconcious, severely injured, but alive, just barely. They take Merlin back to the citadel, but, since they have physician no more, they turn to the druids for medical attention for Merlin. To the surprise of the king, they are more than willing to help his servant.

When Merlin wakes up, the last thing he remembers is his fight with Arthur about Gaius being the traitor and then nothing. Arthur doesn't want Merlin to relive the pain of lossing Gaius, but he must tell him, so he breaks the bad news to his friend. The image of Merlin going from denial to let out a heart-rending cry and finally shouting at him in anger for letting this happen, will forever hunt him. So when Merlin yells at him to leave, he obbeys. The least he could do is spare Merlin from the presence of the person that has failed him.

Some time later. At night. In Merlin's room.

Arthur: (enters, hesitant, walking on eggshells) Hey... Gwaine said you wanted to speak to me. Merlin: (sitting on his bed, not even looking at him, face neutral and dead inside) ... Arthur: (heartbroken at seing him like this) I'm so sorry. This is my fault and I will never forgive myself- Merlin: (deadpans) I'm a sorcerer. Arthur: ... Arthur: What? Merlin: I'm a sorcerer. I have magic. Arthur: Very funny. Merlin: (turns to him, serious) Do you see me laughing? Arthur: (getting nervous) Yo-you can't be a sorcerer. I would know. Merlin: Just as you knew Gaius was the traitor and Agravaine your so trusted ally. Arthur: (hurt, because that was a low blow) That's not fair. I know you are grieving but- Merlin: So you are not going to believe me again then. Arthur: If you are really a sorcerer. Why tell me this now? Merlin: (tears forming in his eyes) Because I don't care anymore. About what you'll think of me or what you'll do, or about the fucking destiny, or fate. It's all bullshit. Arthur: Merlin... Merlin: (wipes his tears quickly) It doesn't matter if you believe it or not. I just confessed I'm a sorcerer to the king of the kingdom the condems such practice. Do with that information what you must.

Arthur doesn't say anything else, just gets out of the room very conflicted. He talks about what Merlin told him to his knights and, when he sees Gwaine's reaction, he knows Merlin wasn't lying. Arthur feels betrayed, of course, that Merlin has lied to him all this time, but then Gwaine, ultimate Merlin defender, reproaches him "Can you blame him?". And Arthur knows it's true. The one time Merlin has trusted him with something, he has failed him.

And Arthur realises, that's how Merlin wanted him to feel, because that's how he made Merlin felt. He is paying him with the same coin.

Or maybe he is testing him. Seeing what Arthur will do.

Arthur just knows that he can't execute Merlin, he won't, especially after almost lossing him along with Gaius due to his own blindness. So he waits till next morning to tell Merlin that. That he is forgiven and will not be executed, that he's willing to gain his trust, work hard to amend for his mistakes.

The next morning comes, but when Arthur enters the room...

Merlin: (all scared) Arthur! Wha-what happened? Why am I all bandage? Did you find Gaius? Arthur: (confused) You know what happened. I told you yesterday. Merlin: What are you talking about? The last thing I remember is that... (gets a bit sad) Is that we fought... (shakes his head) It doesn't matter. I just want to know if you found Gaius. Arthur:(thinking, eyes wide in horror) Oh, no.

They call the druids again to check on Merlin and they give Arthur and his knights the sad news.

Druid: It seems his mind resets to the moment of your argument everytime he falls asleep. It could be a result of his head concussion, but we fear there's magic into it too. Arthur: What do you mean there's magic? Druid: There's a bit of magic encapsulating his brain. It could be some spell Morgana managed to cast on him before the fall or even something instinctual Emrys did to protect himself from the grieve. Arthur: (hopefully) So you can undo it. Right? Druid: (shakes his head, sadly) Brain magic is very difficult to cast and even more difficult to uncast. We could try, but that could also lead to a more severe brain damage too. It's too risky. I'm sorry.

Everyone is devasted. Most of all Arthur. He'll have go through watching Merlin suffer his father figure's death and recieve his resentment and hate for it EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. Arthur knows he deserves this, but not Merlin. It's just too cruel to have his friend grieve Gaius in a loop and never recover for it.

So Arthur resolves to save Merlin the pain.

Arthur: There was an attack. That's why you are injured. Merlin: Attack? Arthur: Morgana. You were right, my uncle was the traitor, not Gaius. I should have believed you. Merlin: (with fear) Where... where is he? Arthur: (pauses) Morgana died in the attack, but Agravaine escaped taking Gaius hostage. Don't worry, I have several search parties looking for them. Merlin: (processes the news in silence for a moment and then tries to stand up) I have to go- Arthur: (stops him, putting a hand on his shoulder) No, Merlin. You need to recover. Merlin: But, I have to- Arthur: I'll take care of this. Without Morgana Agravaine is not that much of a danger and he wouldn't dare harming Gaius knowing that he's the only thing that can guarantee his safety. Merlin: (still looking doubtful) Arthur: I'll tell you what. If today we have no news still, you can come with me in the next search party first thing in the morning. Merlin: (hopeful smile) Really? Arthur: (painfully smiles back) Yeah. Merlin: (smiles more brightly) Thank you, Arthur. Arthur: (tears roll down his eyes, not being able to contain them) No, Merlin. You shouldn't thank me. I... (thinking) I'm the reason you are like this, I'm the reason Gaius is dead. (says) This wouldn't have happened if I had listened to you. You are... hurt and it's my fault. Merlin: (holds his hand) And you realised your mistake and apologised. You are looking for Gaius now and that's more than enough for me. Arthur: (his heart breaking more)... Merlin: (frowns his brow in concern) Now tell me about Morgana. I know it mustn't have been easy for you.

And that's the Merlin he has missed. The one that still cares for him, the one that still view him as a friend.

So Arthur keeps doing this everyday. Sometimes he makes up a new story to justify Gaius' absent. The knights play along, not wanting Merlin to suffer. It's painful, but also bittersweet. At least like this, Merlin can be happy in his ignorance. They can lift the burdens of his shoulders even if it means playing a theater play every single day.

That's all I got now. What do you think?

[anadrym]

Extended Author's Notes for Left Behind Ch9.

Spoilers!

Chapter title is from "Never Be The Same" by Red. One of my favorite love songs, and something I listened to a lot during my depressed high school years.

We are now in the second document I have for this fic (the first one got really slow after Ch8). Also, this is now the longest fic I've ever written. :)

Gotta say: I have so many emotions about this chapter that I hardly know where to even start.

Vi is taking such a leap of faith here. Her mind is absolutely scrambled. She's almost certain that she recognizes Caitlyn, but she can't remember more than that. She's risking everything in the hope that she's right about their connection, and she's trusting that Caitlyn won't betray her to the Baroness.

And Caitlyn... God, just imagine gathering up the courage to finally lay your loved one to rest and then they tell you that they're still alive. No wonder she completely breaks down. She's not even sure she believes it at first, which is why she stops short of touching Vi's face - she's terrified that it's not real.

And then Vi closes the gap. Even though no one has touched her with kindness for five years, Vi crosses those last few centimeters. I'm ill.

And as soon as Caitlyn realizes that she's not imagining this, that Vi is really in front of her and really Vi, she's all in. Both hands supporting her partner, catching her as she collapses, holding her as they both break. FUCK, I love this chapter.

One of the things that really got me hooked on these two was the way they touch each other, so I really try to focus on that in my fics. It works especially well here because they can't use words (at least, not from Vi's POV), so everything has to be communicated through touch. Also, I absolutely love how deadly these two can be, but they're still so soft around each other.

What was Caitlyn whispering over and over again? I actually never decided. I was leaning towards "You're alive/here" or just Vi's name, but one of you put forth "I'm sorry" and I like that too. Feel free to let me know what you thought, but it should be something incredibly heart-wrenching.

So. In terms of what words Vi can understand. I've been trying to think of it like when you're learning another language. When someone speaks at a regular pace, you might be able to pick out a few more distinct words, but have trouble with interpreting the whole sentence. However, if certain terms had been used around you for five years and you were punished for not obeying them, you'd learn very quickly to recognize them. That's why "get up" sends Vi into a panic.

Oh, Caitlyn. Always the detective. Realizing that Vi can't understand her words and switching to gestures. Realizing that the bruises on her arms and neck are from the injections. Trying to get as much information as she can about what's being done to her partner.

Vi is cold, but the injection sites are warm from swelling and irritation. Caitlyn reaches up to check if Vi has a fever, but stops short when she remembers to ask for permission to touch her. She's trying to give her partner as much autonomy as she can.

Vi realizes that Cait is trying to get information about the injection sites and guides her hands to the ones on her legs, which Cait didn't know about.

Also! Vi, even in this state, comforting Cait on instinct by rubbing her thumb over Caitlyn's knuckles. They're going to be the death of me, I swear.

Cait is about to tell Vi to "lie down" but stops herself when she realizes that saying "down" would probably be a very bad idea.

The ring triggers Vi to remember just as Cait kisses her forehead, that's how she recalls her name. It's still going to be a bit before Vi gets her own name back (though I personally think it'll be worth the wait).

Yeah, Caitlyn absolutely whispers, "I love you" as Vi drifts off. :')

Is Cait going to unreasonably blame herself for taking actions that made sense at the time with what information she had? Yes. Yes, she is.

The part about Cait realizing that she almost killed Vi and that Vi would've been aware during it was greatly influenced by your comments on Ch8. I hadn't really focused on it much before y'all pointed it out.

And again, always the detective. Putting the pieces together even when she doesn't want to, even when it makes her feel even more guilt. :(

Vi's malnourishment is important. It's the clue Caitlyn needs in the next chapter.

There's just something about two broken people who have been turned into weapons (whether by their own choice or not) finally becoming people again because they found each other.

When Vi wakes up and Caitlyn smiles (first time in how long?), Vi looks down at her parted lips and sees the gap between Caitlyn's front teeth, the same one she remembered right before the last Maintenance session.

Caitlyn trying not to overwhelm/overstimulate Vi by touching her, and then Vi immediately throwing herself into the touch? Vi is so physically affectionate, and she's been desperately craving this for years.

We will deal with Cait's guilt, but not for a bit. Right now the focus has to be on getting the fuck out of there.

God, it is so exciting when you guys speculate on future chapters and are right. It means I'm setting up the story well (take that, anti-spoiler culture)

Teaser for next week:

"I want her again tonight."

The Baroness leans back in her chair, a sly smile slowly curling her lips. "I'm inclined to grant you that. But first, you have to earn it."

[guzhufuren]

Hey, I've noticed you've been pretty quiet lately and I hope you're doing okay. I know we're not friends or even mutuals so I'm sorry if I'm overstepping by messaging! I hope the world will treat you kindly and that you can find comfort and support if you need it 💕

hi sweetheart wow this is so genuinely nice and kind of you, thank you so much for caring to the point of reaching out

i'm on the way there! i will be okay, hopefully soon. it's not serious, i just had a medium sized break down after receiving a very negative comment on something i made, in mix with a bit of unrelated loneliness and yearning on top of that, plus many many 4am drowsy what-am-i-doing-with-my-life regretful thoughts that i have had in the last months swimming up. like for my unwellness history it's really only about 6 points on the scale where the maximum is 10, so not big. i turned all social apps off but couldn't shake off the distress caused by that one stranger on the internet being unkind to my project, despite knowing they were misunderstanding and were also not in a state to understand at all, so i was kind of confused about what's up with my brain and why it can't move on

and it was a good choice! because after being only with myself without any internet distractions for the first time in years, figured out in just a day that mood swings have been back for a while, over one month at least (so anger issues weren't totally Yunho's fault actually bless him), some other parts of mental health worsened too

got a grip on myself, went to my doctor, got back on meds, now i'm sleepy every minute of waking hours while my body is getting used to them again, but it's gonna be fine. received advice on how to write a mood log, turns out very helpful as additional treatment to keep hypomania and anxiety under control. i even started working out, doing memory exercises and preparing my exam notes tentatively, which is so hard and scary, oh my god, but i must. job search is even scarier but i'm working myself up to finding a good one with little, very very very very tiny steps but they are moving

in the first day of self made quarantine i rewatched the queer korean show Love for Love's Sake that cured me from depression for a while and from any possibility of suicidality for a lifetime last year. it didn't work the trick again, because i'm really not living in the best or even just calm psychological environment to let it do its magical healing thing the way it should, but it did give me new clarity and make me intensely cry some shit out, so that was also very nice

accidentally found the best fic ever and it brought me so much very needed comfort in the past week. it's sweet, funny and stress free. like a warm blanket. or a cup of vanilla cocoa that makes your cold toes tingle in winter. or a hug from the love of your life. first atz and woosan fic to enter my hall of all time longfic favourites. very rare honor but it deserves it completely

also found a bunch of bloggers who post videos of the ocean in Thailand, some even stream the beach 24/7. it's so cool, i watch it in the evenings for short periods of time. helps making it bearable to just survive here a little bit longer until i am able leave

i sort of of really like that when i don't spend 12 hours a day on the phone doing mind-numbing scrolling or posting, there is so much free time to do cool stuff? i have kinda felt like i can be back on here for a couple of days, but i still freak out a bit for two reasons. first, that bad comment is still hanging there and it still makes me too upset to open notifications or my own blog page, which is ridiculous but that's how my dumbass unwell-brain-made feelings are. so i will see how that goes away and i get over it like an adult. second, i'm scared to be sucked back in the addiction to the colourful little hellsite app so i usually end up throwing the phone away in panic after 5 minutes of the app being open. maybe i will work up to it more gradually, don't know, let's see how that goes too

thank you again my little treasure, i will happily take that kindness and comfort you offered here as you are a part of the world. and you can message without worrying anytime, no mutualship or officially labelled friendship necessary. i'm very cool with small amount of interactions, just not big on chatting online one on one for long and don't enjoy it super much. and also with how often i see you around we are considered friends for sure. so thank you again for being so sweet i really am so grateful to you for this, one hundred friend hugs in return

[blu3berryuwu9681]

Psycho (Gojo x nurse! Reader part 2)

A/N: You guys can listen to this in the background if you want!!

Song: Ao no Sumika (Hidden Inventory arc opening) by Tatsuya Kitani

There he was, the strongest sorcerer, just staring at you. It looked liked you were talking to the head matron, who was being very stubborn. In that brief time, he started noting how the room looked.

Gojo's POV:

"Wow. This is the room they gave me. This shabby no-good place is supposed to keep me, the strongest sorcerer?"

Just then, she entered the room, holding a clipboard to her chest.

"Uh... Gojo-san? Um, I'm your assigned nurse for your stay in here, Y/N L/N. Or just Y/N, that's fine too."

I stared at her for what seemed like a good ten minutes before I got up, my tall frame towering over hers. Funny how there are some humans who think they can survive in this world with such a short, petite, *delicate* frame. I mean, she looks like she can crumble with a single flick!

I chuckle, staring at her through my blindfold. I mutter her name quietly, the feeling of it rolling off my tongue confusing me. It felt good, like someone just gave me cold drinks to drink. Of course, that won't be a hard matter to solve.

"Y/N, huh?"

As she nods, I immediately swoop in and grab her by the collar.

"Listen, Y/N. Be a good girl and get some cold drinks, will you? Or is there not a single vending machine in this godforsaken place?"

I watch with a smirk as she slowly- nervously- brings her clipboard up, covering half of her face with it, and squeaks in a small voice.

"I-I'm sorry, but there isn't any I can provide you with right now..."

I smile in mock hurt.

"Then you'll just have to get out and get me one, don't you? After all, your master demands it."

I chuckle as she slowly nods, trembling. I leave her collar suddenly, causing her to fall down helplessly. "Come on now, don't just sit there."

She slowly gets up, dropping her clipboard and not bothering to pick it up again.

"Clumsy girl..."

I pick it up and notice a list of the patients who came here, noticing my name at the very end. Beside it, written in beautiful loopy cursive font, were the words: 'Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer. Must treat with extra respect.'

I put it down and sigh, not before checking the name of whoever it belonged to. I wasn't surprised to see the name of the nurse who just left. She said her name was Y/N. Pretty well mannered, looks nice too. I guess we can get along.

Just then, someone comes from behind me and presses a handkerchief to my nose. Damn! How could I not notice someone in my room?! I shake my head, trying to shake off the feeling of drowsiness. Fuck whoever created chloroform!

By the time I wake about an hour later, I'm tied to a pole in the middle of the room, with a damn straightjacket on me. Fuck! Well, I want to see how this goes, so I'll play along for now. I mean, I can get out whenever I want, But that damn nurse's memory is stopping me from doing so. Plus, I have to wait for the cold drink.

Y/N's POV:

That... ugh! He's older, so I can't even think anything bad about him! Not to mention, he's the strongest sorcerer!

I exit the hospital building, running as fast as I can to get to the nearest vending machine. I gasp as I see the long line in front of it. It'll take an hour, minimum, to get a drink. Oh well, nice chance to catch my breath.

One hour later, I finally get the drink. Thank God they didn't run out of it! I run back to the hospital, careful not to shake the drink too much. If only I knew what was waiting for me!

I walk to Gojo-san's room, only to see him tied to a pole in the middle of the room.

"Well, Y/N-chan. Didn't expect you to be so obedient, just like a cute little puppy."

I internally slap him at his comment. How impudent could he be?

"Well, as you can see, someone came into my room and very kindly tied me up. Since I can't move my arms, the only option left is for you too feed me. Think you can do that, Y/N?"

I flinch internally. Did I already mention he's impudent?

I move in, pressing the tab down and opening the can. I move in, gently touching his chin with my thumb and index.

"C-can you please open your mouth for me?"

I sigh in relief in my mind, happy that he's finally listening. I press the opening of the can to his soft lips, noticing his pink lips and wondering if he wears lip gloss.

I tilt the can slightly, allowing some of the liquid to flow from the can to his mouth. I tilt it back, stopping the flow and allowing him to gulp it down. I'm pretty surprised at how quiet he is, like a sleeping cat.

I repeat the process again and again, having to plead him to open his mouth by gently pressing my thumb on his lower lip while he keeps staring at me with that mischievous smirk on his face.

"Gojo-san, please, my fingers are getting numb..."

Finally, I tip the last of the can's contents in his mouth, sighing in relief.

"You're surprisingly good at this feeding job... Do you have kids?"

I blush at his comment. Have kids? Who would wanna have kids with me?

"N-no, I'm single."

"Oh, I thought a cutie like you would be taken already."

I'm pretty sure my blush started shing in fifty shades of red at this point.

"C-cutie?"

I watch as he stares at his own hands for a while, apparently thinking deep about something. He looked up at me, a smirk creeping across his face.

"Your hands are pretty soft, and you smell nice too."

I look down, trying to hide my red-stained face from him. I wasn't used to getting compliments from anyone, especially not someone as strong as him.

"T-thank you..."

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Nezukonouta9681 - Wattpad

[beef-brisket]

Adam watched as Lucifer slowly finished his cigarette. This must be a big deal of Lucifer started smoking again.

The demon smiled at the thought of feeding off not only an emotionally wrecked Lucifer but whatever Evan would bring to the playing field.

His mouth was just watering at the thought if it.

Adam: Would you like to be left alone, sir?

Lucifer: ...I ...think so, Adam. Perhaps you can help Charlie get ready for these... angels. I'm sure she'd appreciate the help.

Adam bowed: Of course, sir.

Walking inside and towards the last place, he saw Charlie, Adam could already feel the stress. And he thought last night was delicious enough. These next few days will allow him to feed on a whole bunch of emotions.

Charlie: Oh! Adam! Is dad okay? I shouldn't have dumped that all on him.

Adam: He's fine, princess. Just... well, you know how he is.

Charlie sighed: I know... I know it's your job, but I thank you for being here- with him. He's made a huge improvement. I'd hate if this is what throws away because of Evan...

Adam: Mm, it's okay, Princess. He's strong. He'll get through this.

Charlie smiled: You're right. Thank you, Adam.

As Charlie walked off, Adam stood there for a moment, feeling something was off. Staring at the wall, he titled his head when he noticed a shadow slip through a door.

Adam: Odd.

-

It was finally the day Lucifer dreaded. The angels were coming to speak with Charlie about her hotel.

And as each angel was lead inside by an overly excited Charlie, Lucifer felt his pulse rise once he saw Even walk in.

His breath caught. There was a part of Lucifer that was hoping he wouldn't be wearing his musk. But he was. And its expression didn't seem too interested in what was going on.

Lucifer wasn't even sure if he'd seen him. His mask doesn't have pupils, so he could be looking everywhere. Or nowhere.

Charlie hugged Emily tightly, making Lucifer smile. He wasn't sure who this young Seraphim was to Charlie, but they seemed to really like each other.

Sera gave her a soft smile and a short bow, which was kinder than Lucifer expected. It was more than he ever got.

Adam eyed each angel as Charlie brought them over and introduced everyone. Sera was definitely uncomfortable, although she was doing a good job at hiding it. Emily was... like Charlie. Although more sure of herself. And Evan was harder to gauge. He was fully covered by a mask and rode, and his expression was blank. Or bored. Adam couldn't tell.

He hadn't spoken yet.

This was a huge difference from what he had heard about him. The first man was apparently loud and destructive. Oh well, the nights still young.

Charlie: And this is Evan! He's working as more of a... security, did you say, Em?

Emily: Yeah, sorry Char. I hope that's not an issue. I don't expect anything bad to happen, but it's just a precaution, you know?

Charlie smiled: I understand! I uh... know it can be a bit rough out there. So! Would you three like a tour?

The two angels agreed quickly and followed Charlie, Evan was right behind them.

Once they left, the guests looked between themselves.

Angel: Well... not that I expected.

Husk rolled his eyes: We all knew what you expected.

Angel: The fuck does that mean?!

Husk: Exactly what you think it means, kid.

Adam glanced at Lucifer. He was definitely trying to be unreadable, but Adam could see how much being ignored by the three angels hurt him.

Adam: You'll have another change, sir. You and Miss Charlotte have a meeting with them after the tour.

Lucifer gave Adam a weak smile: Yeah, that's right. Thank, you Adam. I'd... like you there for that. If that's okay.

Adam smiled. He was hoping his king would request this: Of course, sir. More than okay.

What about a Satan x Yogirt!au, but it's Adamsapple!

(Now, keep in mind, I've never seen Helluva, so I'm sorry if I have Yogirt's roll completely wrong 😝)

Adam works as Lucifer's pride management officer. And helps Lucifer during meetings or in social situations (news flash, he doesn't help at all).

And you know he's cunty as shit.

I feel like this could be a short and sweet rp 👀👀

You haven't seen Helluva Boss!? Tsk tsk. That is your homework this weekend lol

You totally got his role right no worries!

LMAO Adam trying to keep Lucifer's pride in check 😆

-

Adam sighed as he followed his boss to another meeting, this would make the fifth one today.

Normally all of the sins meetings would be held together, but since Mammon made a big bitch fit out of the last one it was decided that they would do individual meetings three times a month and one group meeting once a month.

Those individual meetings took all fucking day.

Lucifer: Keep up Adam, we're nearly done.

Adam: Yes sir.

They were going to see Bee and then lastly Bel. Something about the times just working out.

Lucifer slumped when they reached the meeting room door: Remind me again why we can't space these meetings out through the week?

Adam: It would be all you did everyday.

Lucifer: Right..... Best to get it over with.

[sskk-manifesto]

Next time we should just skip over ep 3 and do a chapters 84-87 reread

[doodlingwren]

Hiatus

I am going on hiatus for a bit more. I really really hoped the stuff that have been going on lately were already "sorted out" but, uhm... they aren't. I need to take a bit more time offline once again, and try to work things out.

Thank you for your patience ❤

Wren

[nochepsicodelica]

NSFW

"What are you doing? It's two in the morning, doll," Toji's voice drawls out, sleep morphing his voice into something quiet and gravelly.

You pause the show you have playing on your phone and look up at Toji, who's leaning against the dining room entryway. He has two random clumps of his hair sticking out, his eyes are slightly puffy with sleep, and there's this pout on his face that just pieces it all together.

"I woke up and wanted something sweet. I had a bite of cake and an orange. Well, two oranges," you say, giving him a glimpse of the progress you've made on the second one. He hums and goes quiet, groggily watching you continue to eat the fruit. "Go back to sleep, baby," you coo. "I'll head back in a few minutes."

"Come back, now. I'm tired," Toji says, crossing his arms over his chest. He really looks like the grumpiest of bears.

You chuckle at the almost whiny sound in his voice. "Five minutes."

"No. Too long."

"Three minutes?" You counteroffer.

Toji shakes his head. "No, baby. Now."

"But..." you hold up your remaining two pieces of orange.

"Finish up. I'm waiting on you."

You sigh and stuff the two pieces of orange in your mouth, before standing up to wash your hands.

You follow behind Toji as he leads you through the dark hallway, back to the bedroom. He waits for you to walk in before shutting the door and joining you on his side of the bed. Immediately, he tries to steal all your warmth, because the sheets and the blanket feel cold on his naked torso and his legs. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and throws an arm over your chest, while his legs trap one of yours between them. He's all consuming.

"Why'd you get out of bed?" You murmur, stroking the back of his head. Toji lets out a quiet grunt, falling silent, again, after. You smile and stop talking so that he can go back to sleep. You bring your phone up and start scrolling through your socials, only to earn another quiet, but more disapproving grunt. "Sorry," your whisper, turning down the brightness of your screen.

"Turn it off, ma. It's too early for you to be awake," Toji chides.

"But I can't go back to sleep. I'm not tired," you explain.

"I can put you down. Just turn it off, alright?"

You sigh, defeatedly, and turn your screen off, before setting it on your nightstand.

"Turn onto your side," Toji tiredly mumbles, instructing you so that he can turn as well and spoon you. His arm goes over your waist and below your shirt to caress the bare skin of your tummy. His thumb slowly strokes your soft skin, moving back and forth in a soothing manner. "Relax," he says, coaxing a relieved sigh out of you. "There you go. You've got sugar in your system, now, ma. It might take a little longer to get you to sleep."

"Sorry," you mumble into your pillow. Your eyes don't feel heavy and you don't feel the least bit sluggish. It always feels nice to have Toji rub your tummy, and this method of getting you to sleep is ninety-nine point nine percent effective, the point one percent being this time.

"I don't think me rubbing your stomach is gonna save you this time," Toji says, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. He gets a quiet, disappointed sigh from you, followed by silence. He doesn't want you to feel bad. You're not the first person ever to wake up craving something so badly that it doesn't let you stay asleep, and tummy rubs aren't the only method he uses to help you get to sleep. "Want me to go down there and make it all better?" He murmurs.

"You need to sleep, too," you say, considering his own tiredness.

"I'll sleep just fine without you tossing and turning all night. Let me help you."

So, you do. You let him go under the blanket and pull your shorts and underwear down, both in one go. You feel his lips on your thighs, slowly making their way towards the part of you that very quickly grew needy, and once his tongue makes contact with you, your first instinct is to bend your knees and plant your feet on the mattress.

"Relax, baby," Toji says, under the blanket. His hands push on your thighs so that your legs go down, again. "Don't tense up too much. We're getting you to sleep, 'kay?"

"Sorry," you mumble, shutting your eyes to allow yourself to focus on the way Toji's mouth works on you. His hands stay on your thighs and rub your skin, soothingly, with the same gentleness he uses for the tummy rubs he gives you.

All that can be heard as Toji builds you up through the quietness of the night, are your soft breaths and the rustling of sheets, as you squirm and slightly arch off the bed. His tongue offers gentle licks to your clit, before he envelops the sensitive bud with his lips and starts suckling on it. Every time your legs go up, he hums against your cunt and pushes them back down, and it keeps going this way until he's had enough. You don't listen and he's corrected you multiple times, so he had to resort to locking your thighs in place with his arms.

"T-Toji," you whimper out, writhing under him and the relentlessness flicking of his tongue. "Please- Please?"

"Shh... I know, baby," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your cunt, before continuing.

Your legs are quivering and it's so hard to lie still when you've been edged and denied of your orgasm three times, now—all work done by solely his mouth. His soft, warm tongue has been lapping at you for long enough to have thin strings of your arousal and his saliva connecting you to him, even for a mere second, before those strings snap.

It doesn't take much more than Toji sucking on your over sensitive clit for a couple seconds, for you to finally get that powerful orgasm you've been grasping, but never fully reaching. Your toes curl, your hips roll against the mattress as your back arches off the bed, and you gasp sharply, a sound that leads the rest of your sounds of pleasure out, as Toji helps you ride out the sensation. While, normally, he would be a little mean and overstimulate you, even just the slightest bit, he opts out of it, this time, because the purpose of this from the start was to get you to sleep, and based off the sounds you made, Toji knows you're going to sleep so good.

Once you've calmed down, your breathing steadied and your body still on the bed—now entirely relaxed—Toji cleans you up with his tongue. Slow, gentle strokes, because despite this act of kindness being for you to achieve rest, he can't—doesn't want to—waste your sweet essence.

When he's done, he slides your underwear back on and uses your shorts to wipe his face, before tossing them somewhere behind him on the bed. Toji peeks out from under the blanket and takes in your peaceful expression. Your eyes are shut, not a crease in your brows, and your breaths come softly through your nose. This is it.

He tries to be as careful as possible when crawling back up to his side of the bed, not wanting to wake you up after just getting you to sleep. It seems like the coast is clear when his head hits his pillow and he carefully shifts so that he can watch you until he falls asleep. Then, he sees you stir and he starts thinking that maybe the orgasm didn't fully wear you out, but just left you dazed. He doesn't say anything when you briefly open your eyes to look at him, but when you lean in to leave a chaste kiss on his lips, he's furthermore silenced. Immediately after, you bury your face in his chest and doze off for sure, this time. Toji coils around you and instantly returns to his all consuming way of sleeping with you.

[maeventide]

Thinking about a self conscious Nanami Kento following the Shibuya incident he made it out alive okay, good men don't perish in this house

pairing: nanami kento x f!reader cw: body image issues, angst, hurt/comfort

Nanami looks at himself in the mirror and studies his disfigured flesh with thinly veiled disdain. His stomach churns as his gaze follows the ugly, reddish grooves that twist and mar half of his face. The macabre view of his teeth as a result of the tearing to his right lip is no pretty sight either. Nanami certainly never believed himself to be an exceptionally handsome man before all this...but now...

He finds it difficult to face you, knowing that every time the two of you go out in public together, people stare. Of course, you've reassured Nanami countless times that it doesn't bother you in the slightest and that he shouldn't be ashamed, but being the conscientious man that he is, Nanami can't help but worry that he's becoming a burden to you.

The whispers of the people that pass you by certainly don't ease those anxieties in the slightest.

"What happened to his face?"

"Look, he's wearing an eye patch. How weird."

"Why's a cutie like her hanging out with that ugly mug?"

"You can see his teeth! Gross!"

"She must be a gold digger. No way anyone would willingly date someone who looks like that."

Each of those callous remarks, especially those that question your character, feel like a ruthless punch to the gut. You furiously defend him of course--everything short of spitting venom at the people who've uttered such cruel words--but Nanami knows that he's dragging you down. He knows that he's selfishly ostracizing you from the rest of society by staying by your side. He knows it's not fair to you. It isn't right to subjugate you to all this...

If he were a better man, Nanami would have cut ties with you long ago.

"Kento..."

He feels your arms wrap around his waist from behind. You've caught him staring in the mirror again, and at three in the morning no less. Nanami can't help but feel utterly ashamed.

"I'm sorry, love. Did I wake you?"

He feels you shake your head back and forth against his back, the warmth of your body, so recently bundled up beneath the covers, seeps through his t-shirt. It's calming, just like your touch.

"Do you mind turning around for me?"

Incapable of ever denying you, Nanami does as you wish. He turns to face you, too tired to try and hide his melancholic expression (not that you wouldn't have seen through his thinly veiled facade anyway). Your own expression doesn't waver as you look at him. In your eyes Nanami sees neither disgust nor pity nor anger. Instead Nanami sees what he always sees--love.

"I love you," You say, as if it were the most matter of fact thing in the world. "Every day when I wake up in the morning and see your sleeping face next to mine, I feel so incredibly grateful that I can hardly breathe."

Your hands rise up, reaching forward to gently cup Nanami's face. He winces slightly at your touch, his scared tissue is still sensitive, but he doesn't pull away. He doesn't think he ever could.

"Kento, I know that adjusting to these scars--both the ones on the surface and the ones inside--hasn't been easy. I know that there will be bad days,"

Your thumbs tenderly caress Nanami's cheek, tracing the bones that now protrude there thanks to the weight he'd lost. He realizes that he should be feeling self-conscious right now, with how close you are to the ugly parts of him, but he doesn't. Not when you're looking at him like he'd just hung the moon and stars.

"Nanami Kento, you are stuck with me. I'm going to stand by you, through the good and the bad. Through all of it. That's what people who love each other do."

You smile at him and Nanami's chest tightens to the point of pain, breath catching harshly in his throat as his vision begins to swim. It comes crashing down in waves, all the doubt and all the pain he'd held inside. He can't hold himself up anymore and Nanami slumps against you, burying his face into your shoulder as he lets the tears silently flow.

And like always, you hold him.

[mihanisms]

content: back on my caleb shenanigans. god i need this man so bad. also a tribute to me getting painful signal And a manifestation for me to get his myth cards infold Please Pleeeease Please

warnings: overstimulation, mindbreak, pathetic mean switchy yandere caleb because i think he needs to apologize to us by fucking both his and our brains out. very obsessive / hate-fucky undertones and BREEDING KINK! MENTIONS OF PREGNANCY AND BABY TRAPPING! you have been warned...also this is kind of monologuey from his perspective? idk my brain just shit this out

you were mad at caleb. you were mad at caleb. you were mad at-

fuck, you couldn't even pretend that you had any remaining hostility for him when he was fucking your brains out just right, whimpering out your name like a prayer. "'m sorry for leaving you, princess, i- fuck wouldn't have 'f i didn't need to-" he buries his face into your shoulder, muffling the slew of curses spilling from his mouth, lost in the feeling of your cunt squeezing him just right.

you had lost the amount of time the two of you had been at this, your mind hardwired to the feeling of his cock pounding you, the sloppy sounds of skin slapping against skin and your moans mingling together being the only thing filling up the room.

suddenly, caleb's hands move to your thighs, folding you in a mating press and it only felt better, like he was hitting the deepest parts of you now. you could only moan louder and claw at his back, eyes rolling back as your legs shake in his grip. he lets out a soft whine, his mind turning to mush at the vice grip of your pussy. "princess, god you feel so good, you're taking me just right-" his thrusts only grew more vigorous, wanting to map out every inch of you and ingrain it into his brain.

your mind felt like it was spinning from the amount of pleasure you were receiving, from caleb's cock repeatedly drilling into you and the rapid, short gasps of air he was taking. "you think- you think you can take one more f'me, baby?" you could only muster up a quick nod, but that doesn't satisfy him. letting one of your legs go, he slows down his thrusts and tilts up your head, forcing you to meet his eyes. "use your words, princess. can you take one more for me?"

it takes a while for you to gather the mushed-up words in your head and force them out of your mouth, but you manage a shaky "m-mm, i can- i can take one more f'you, caleb. pl-ease just one moaaah-!"

whatever you were about to say gets cut off by your boyfriend resuming his harsh thrusts, his hand moving down from your face to press on the slight bulge now peeking from your stomach. "good, you can take it..." his eyes were wild with hunger at this point, greedily drinking in each and every one of your reactions - the tears pricking at your eyes, the drool leaking from the side of your mouth, all of it he committed to memory. this was all because of him. the sight drives him to the brink, his hips moving faster and faster as he loses himself in the feeling of you, everything that was welling up inside him threatening to spill over - both figuratively and literally.

caleb was panting like a dog in heat with every move he made, his desperation of wanting to fuck you mirroring your desperation to get fucked. you, you, you, you. more, more, more, more. he wanted more, he wanted to consume you, to envelop your very being with his own so that he was the only person you could see, touch, and talk to. you two would never have to be separated again, not by his will or anyone else's.

with every gasp for breath that you took, caleb's desire to have you intensified, his obsessiveness spilling out of his mouth without a second thought - you were too fucked out to understand anything he was saying, anyways.

"fuck princess, you reaaaally like getting fucked like this, dont'ya? getting used like a dirty fuckin' slut, my dirty fuckin' slut? think i'm gonna get you all nice and filled up, keep you here with me hm? you'd be a good mother i just know it-" the thought of mini you's and him's running around had his eyes rolling back, his legs quivering and his balls tightening up in preparation for his release.

"i really think- i really think this one'll be it, princess. you finally won't be able to leave me, not when you've been stuffed full of my cum and babies, and fuck- everyone'll just have to accept that i'm yours and you're mine, and nothing-" caleb's mind is fuzzy, lost in his fantasies as he drills into you, right on the precipice of ruin, "nothing will ever come between us again."

in your state of mind, you were able to make out nothing but the mix of roughness and possessiveness in his voice, yet you were still able to sense the overflowing love he had for you, no matter what it was that he was saying. already way past your limit, his cock bullying your abused hole leads you to orgasm one last time, a pathetic mewl leaving you as your body spasms and your juices flow down onto him.

the pitiful sound that comes from you and the way your body shakes underneath his was caleb's last straw, his cock spurting out ropes of cum into your waiting pussy. he's left panting and grunting, eyes transfixed on the way your cum had mixed together. "you look so...so pretty like this, princess..." he then collapses on top of you, the hours of sex taking its toll on him as he grinds into you a few more times before going limp, his chest rising up and down rapidly with yours as he tries to catch his breath - and you, your consciousness.

with the remaining strength he had, he manages to move you both to the cleaner side of the bed, pulling out his softening cock from your sopping hole. he leaves a tender kiss on one of the many marks he had left throughout the night, but not before gently prying your legs apart to clean up any remaining cum you had on your legs and pushing it back into you. he couldn't forget what he had just promised you, now could he?

satisfied with his work and feeling lulled by your soft, shaky breaths, caleb decides that any further aftercare would be given once the both of you had recharged, his arms that were previously just used to hold you down now wrapping around your body as he slots himself right behind you, joining you in comfortable, well-earned sleep.

a/n: i hope this was a coherent fic, lowkey I wrote this gone as fuck at 3 in the morning so I'm sorry if it's a bit janky

[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: prev | masterlist | next

The news had spread like wildfire.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The laughing dies when your phone chimes next to you.

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

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

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

That's it.

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

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

But boy, weren't you wrong?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He sighs, realizing the anger is misdirected.

"I'm sorry"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It had been days since your fight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Won't be needed"

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

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

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

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

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

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

I'm waiting.

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

I'm coming.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Twenty minutes" he grumbles, groaning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You choke in your words. "No-"

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

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

Words were lewd, but Pedro smiles with adoration.

"That's my girl"

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

"Sit"

He glares back, "in the toilet?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now it's Pedro's turn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"London?" Paul asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can only hold his and stare back lovingly.

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

The topic changes again, as Paul speaks.

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

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

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

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

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

Paul laughs, breaking contact.

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

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

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

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

"Will you ever let me live?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I would say Lucius is the better fighter"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"A cloth line flying" Paul answers.

"Clothes line?" you try.

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

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

The conversation shifts again.

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

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

Paul agrees.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Well, fuck them manners"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His lewd words elicit another moan out of you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Pedro, I know you're in there"

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

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

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

"We are fucked"

"No" he giggles, "we just fucked"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*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.

[gguk-n]

Silent Connections (Oscar Piastri x Reader)

Summary- In a world where soulmates exist. Some people can hear their soulmates thoughts, but only when they think. Oscar isn't sure he has a soulmate.

Oscar Piastri wasn't even sure he had a soulmate. His mum would talk about how she could hear his dad's thoughts and how they met for the first time but Oscar had yet to hear a single thought from his soulmate. He even voiced his concern once; "I don't think I have a soulmate" he told his mum when he was 5. His mother consoled him and tried to cheer him up.

Oscar was shocked, he skid his kart in the middle of the race and almost crashed out when he heard it. A giggly voice, he wasn't even sure what she said but he was sure, it was her. Maybe he didn't finish that race but he knew now that he had a soulmate. He told his dad as soon as he hopped out of the kart. But he didn't really hear her after that, not for a while. He doubted himself again, maybe he hallucinated that. But as if on cue, he heard it loud and clear; she's a meany. I hate her. It made Oscar laugh out loud; he was 9 and meany was a pretty bad thing to call anyone.

With time, Oscar would hear some parts of his soulmate's thoughts. That's how he learned what she sounded like since his mum said he would hear her thoughts in her voice. Oscar loved his soulmate's voice, he was sure he would love her too; the moment they met. He couldn't wait to meet the love of his life.

Y/N knew she had a soulmate. She knew since she could form thoughts. She could hear him, in her head. It would get chaotic and annoying at times. She couldn't think properly. She could recognise her soulmate's voice even in her sleep since that boy didn't stop thinking. The first thoughts of his that she remembers are about some cars. She wasn't sure what they meant but she did learn a lot about cars from him. She was practically a natural when it came to driving and she only had her soulmate to thank for it.

Even if her soulmate's thoughts were chaotic and annoying sometimes, there were time when she was happy to have his voice in her head, especially on shitty day's like today. She failed her test, her car broke down and she had an assignment to submit in 12 hours with a blue screened laptop. She had started bawling when his smooth voice cut through her. It's fine. I can do it. I've come this far. I'll achieve my dream. I have to keep going. Y/N was glad for his constant reassurance even if it was not for her. Thank you soulmate. I hope you get whatever you want because your thoughts comfort me everyday. Oscar heard it. His brain stopped working, this was the first time they had had a conversation of any sort.

Y/N had pursued a career in cars, she wasn't sure what she would do but she did automobile engineering since her soulmate rubbed off on her. She knew she should've done some research on the company she was joining but she forgot and right now she was standing in a room full of her new colleagues when her eyes landed on a man in a orange shirt and black shorts. He's fucking hot. She thought but Oscar heard it loud and clear. Who's hot? He thought, face visibly annoyed. He's so cute annoyed. She couldn't help but swoon over the orange shirt man. Hey! you have a soulmate you know Oscar huffed. Y/N giggled Sorry Mr Soulmate, I'm sure you're hotter she reassured. Oscar smiled. I wanna make him smile like that. Y/N thought looking at the orange shirt guy smile. Oscar was getting annoyed by the second with who ever his soulmate found attractive.

Y/N was called by her team to introduce herself to the drivers who they would be building the cars for. The first man introduced himself as Lando Norris with a smile. Y/N smiled back and then the other spoke, "I'm Oscar Piastri" making Y/N's eyes bulge out. That voice, she could recognise it anywhere and he was an athlete. How long ago would they have met had she known? My Soulmate's fucking pale. was the first thing Oscar heard making him quickly scan the room. Y/N smiled at Oscar looking for her, his soulmate. "Hi, I'm Y/N Y/L/N" she introduced herself. Oscar's eyes landed on her before muttering, "soulmate" a small smile playing on his lips.

The two of them were able to slip away from the team; "I can't believe this is how I meet you. If I knew you were famous, I would've stalked you years ago" Y/N rambled. "No wonder I couldn't hear your thoughts. You don't think" Oscar laughed. Y/N caught herself blushing, embarrassed. "You're cute though" Oscar stated. "If it's any consolation, the guy I thought was fucking hot was you" she bit her lips. It was Oscar's turn to blush. "As long as I'm the only man you find hot, I have no problem" he said. "Maybe, we should exchange numbers?" she suggested. "Yeah" Oscar smiled. This was the start of a forever the two of them had been waiting for, for a long long time.

[sweetbcgs]

LUNCH / sevika

Sevika x fem!reader nsfw headcanons

WC: no idea!!

for @mrsarnold

Sevika seems like the type to be into bigger women... sorry..

Constantly wants to be touching you in some way, sexual or non sexual, doesn't matter. she wants to be touching you all the time, keeping her hand on your thigh when sitting down anywhere, it's even gotten to the point where she makes you sit in her lap so you could be touching her.

She is a MUNCH i swear to god she is, wanting to eat you out until you're crying and begging for her to stop because you're so sensitive. her holding your thighs down as you jerk against her, but she doesn't care because she knows she's stronger than you

size kink.... yeah gets off on knowing she is bigger/taller than you.. This is really for me but her just resting her weight on you especially when her strap is in you to make sure she goes as deep as she can

i just know she is possessive, constantly keeping an arm around you in any public place and shooting people looks if they stare at you for too long.

i know y'all saw that scene with Caitlyn biting her... she is SO into biting, whether it's you biting her or the other way around. she mainly just wants to leave her marks on you even though everyone knows you belong to her.

I can see her being soft half the time, wanting to take her time with you and treating you so sweetly. Wants to kiss you passionately, slow deep thrusts, just making sure she's skin to skin with you. But after a long day of dealing with assholes she wants to be rough with you. Pulling your hair, overstimulating you till you're crying, choking you, spitting in your mouth...

She just wants to please you so bad, she gets off on seeing you cum with her name leaving your mouth.

Yeah she wants to please you but you pleasing her? Best thing ever. I don't see her as someone too loud in bed, groans and small moans falling from her when you're eating her out, but going down on her and making sure she comes at least twice before coming back up to kiss her. I'm honestly a sucker for pleasing so yeah..

Hear me out, with with an oral fixation? When she puts her mouth on you, she is not stopping until she's satisfied. Sucking on your clit till your hips are jerking against her face and she has to hold you down as she makes you cum again.

I think everyone in the fandom has agreed on her having a breeding kink, so yeah let's add that. Her favorite position would be missionary just so she can keep your face in her view, sometimes leaning down to suck marks on your neck, biting you too... Holds your cheeks together to make you stare at her because god does she love holding eye contact with you.

Loves when you go down on her strap, yeah she can't technically feel it but phantom strap..?? She doesn't have her arm anymore, doesn't mean she still can't feel it. She swears that she can feel you gagging on her and has actually came from it once.

a/n: this is so short but i really didn't feel like adding any more onto this... been really busy recently btw!! trying my best to be active but i haven't spent much time on my phone