#so they can see and do what’s best for them

[inkedinshadows]

First of all congratulations for 1000 followers 🎊🎉🎊🎉🎊🎉 it’s honestly amazing and you deserve all the best❤️❤️❤️ also happy new year 🎆🎆🎆 secondly, all the prompts are super good it, I had such a hard time choosing from them cause they that are all amazing, anyway I think 19, 20 and 21 just fit together perfectly for an angsty Azriel fic.

Broken Vows

Pairing: Azriel x f!reader

A/N: thank you so much anon, you're the sweetest! <33 And happy new year one month too late oopsie 🤭

Prompts: "I trusted you." + "Don't leave me now. Please. I still need you." + "Baby, please, just look at me."

Warnings: Az is not the best partner here (I promise he didn't cheat)

Word count: 1.3k

It must be a dream. A nightmare.

Whatever was happening, it wasn't real. It couldn't be. You refused to believe it.

Azriel was still talking, but you weren't listening anymore. His words blurred together in your mind, yet his first few sentences remained sharp, playing over and over in your head.

I've found my mate.

You had never been the jealous type, so it hadn't bothered you when he began spending more and more time with Madja’s new apprentice. It had started as small talk after her visits and you usually lingered too. Talya seemed nice enough—quiet and reserved yet friendly.

You hadn't questioned it when Azriel started visiting the apothecary for even the slightest headache. But then those visits became too frequent. He went there even when both of you felt perfectly fine.

You should have realized something was off when Azriel became distant. The signs had been there. You had just been too blind to see them.

But the problem wasn't that he had found his mate, was it?

I want to be with her.

A few simple words, and the whole world collapsed around you.

“Baby, please, just look at me.” His voice finally cut through your thoughts. “I know this is hard to hear, but let me—”

“You promised,” you interrupted him. Your eyes met his from where he sat at the other end of the couch.

“Baby…” he began, but you cut him off again.

“You promised,” you repeated, your voice rising as tears pricked your eyes. “You promised!”

Guilt flashed across Azriel's face, and he at least had the decency to remain silent as you pressed on.

“You said you'd reject your mate for me, Az,” you blurted out. Hot, angry tears rolled down your cheeks, but you barely noticed. “It was in your wedding vows, for gods’ sake!”

Azriel shook his head. “It's not that simple. I don't—”

“Isn't it?” you interrupted again. “Because it seems simple enough to me. You just reject the bond, like I did.”

His expression immediately hardened. “I don't want to reject the bond. If you would only let—”

“Why wouldn't you want to reject it?” you demanded.

“Because she's my mate!”

“And I'm your wife!”

For a moment, you just glared at each other. His shadows swarmed nervously around his wings, but then his shoulders slumped and his expression softened slightly.

“Can you let me explain?” he asked, studying you. “Please.”

With a sigh, you wiped your cheeks before crossing your arms over your chest. You simply looked at him, waiting.

“I don't want to lose you, baby,” he said softly.

“I don't see how that is going—”

Azriel stopped you mid-sentence. “Let me finish? Please?”

You rolled your eyes but gestured for him to continue. Listening to him was the last thing you wanted right now, but maybe he was going to surprise you. Maybe he was going to say it was all just a joke, a prank, and you'd be mad, but it would be fine.

You were grasping at straws, and you knew it.

“I still want to be with you,” Azriel said. He shot you a sharp look when you opened your mouth, and you sank back against the couch to let him continue. “But I also want to explore this bond with her.”

You scoffed. “So what? You think you can have both of us?” You shook your head, something vicious twisting in your gut. “That's not going to work, Azriel.”

You rose from your seat to head upstairs. You needed time to think, to figure out what to do. If you stayed, you would only get angrier. You had already cried and had no desire to do it again. But if you left, maybe you could spare yourself the fury.

Though the pain—the ache in your heart—could not be avoided, no matter what you did.

“Talya said that she understands the situation and she'd be willing to—”

You froze on the spot. Azriel must have realized he'd said the wrong thing because he didn't finish the sentence. His eyes dropped to your clenched fists as you turned back to face him.

Your restraint was gone. You wouldn't hold back now.

“You talked to her before you talked to me?” you seethed.

“Well, I…” Azriel seemed to be grasping for words. “She's my mate,” he repeated, as if that was explanation enough.

“And I'm your wife!” You threw your hands up. “I have been for the last two centuries!”

“I'm sorry, baby, but I—”

“Don't you ‘baby’ me, Azriel!”

He lowered his gaze, but you were too upset to care about the hurt look in his eyes. It was nowhere close to the heartache he was causing you.

“You know why I never worried about you finding your mate?” you asked. He looked up at you, but even if he had planned on saying something, you didn't give him time. “Because you promised you'd choose me. You promised you would reject the bond. And I believed it, believed you. I trusted you.”

You were well aware of what rejecting a mating bond felt like, how difficult it could be to deal with. Even without feelings involved, even knowing that you and your mate wouldn't have been a good match, it had still taken you two weeks to feel whole again. But Azriel had been there, filling the empty spot where your bond had been with his love.

You had never regretted your choice. You never had a reason to.

“And now I find out that not only did you spend time with her knowing she was your mate,” you went on, “but that you also want to be with her?”

Azriel’s voice was firm, edged with frustration. “I told you I want to be with you too, didn’t I?”

“Mother above, Azriel,” you snapped. “You think that makes me feel better? I trusted you, but you didn't even try.”

You had fought before. After two hundred years together, arguments were inevitable. But you usually talked it out and reconciled after a few hours—a day at worst. Maybe that was why Azriel didn't look particularly concerned.

Until you slipped the wedding band off your finger and tossed it onto the couch beside him.

His eyes widened in shock, and his usually restless shadows stilled behind him. You both stared at the ring, the silence stretching as your anger faded, leaving behind only a broken heart.

“You can't have your cake and eat it too, Az,” you finally said, your voice calmer now, resigned.

You turned on your heel again.

“I'm leaving,” you announced, already walking toward the stairs. You could go stay with your parents. They would welcome you without pressing for an explanation.

Azriel snapped out of his stupor and stood, reaching for you.

“Don’t leave me now. Please. I still need you.” His fingers closed around your wrist. “I still love you.”

You yanked your arm free, but didn't turn to face him. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him as you bit out, “You should have loved me enough not to pursue your mate. You promised.”

He tried to stop you again, his shadows swirling around your legs as if to keep you from walking away from their master.

“Baby, that's not—”

You turned back one last time. Tears lined your eyes and your voice broke on the words. “I should have been enough, Azriel.”

You didn't wait to hear his response. You didn't try to go upstairs to pack some clothes.

Unable to stomach his presence any longer, you winnowed away.

a/n: technically, this is the end. I wanted to leave it open and hanging, but the more I think about it, the more I realize that I am a sucker for happy endings so I might write a part 2 bc I already have an idea :))

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon

1k taglist: @onebadassunicorn @thegoddessofnothingness

[dilf-docs]

My Baby's Fit Like A Daydream

husband!pedro pascal x younger!reader

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

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

word count: 10,991 words

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

part: I/II

The news had spread like wildfire.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The laughing dies when your phone chimes next to you.

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

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

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

That's it.

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

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

But boy, weren't you wrong?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He sighs, realizing the anger is misdirected.

"I'm sorry"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It had been days since your fight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Won't be needed"

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

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

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

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

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

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

I'm waiting.

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

I'm coming.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Twenty minutes" he grumbles, groaning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You choke in your words. "No-"

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

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

Words were lewd, but Pedro smiles with adoration.

"That's my girl"

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

"Sit"

He glares back, "in the toilet?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now it's Pedro's turn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"London?" Paul asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can only hold his and stare back lovingly.

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

The topic changes again, as Paul speaks.

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

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

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

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

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

Paul laughs, breaking contact.

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

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

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

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

"Will you ever let me live?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I would say Lucius is the better fighter"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"A cloth line flying" Paul answers.

"Clothes line?" you try.

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

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

The conversation shifts again.

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

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

Paul agrees.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Well, fuck them manners"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His lewd words elicit another moan out of you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Pedro, I know you're in there"

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

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

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

"We are fucked"

"No" he giggles, "we just fucked"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[coldfanbou]

Hot Bodies on a Cold Day

Jihyo gets a little wild on her vacation. I could've written a Hawaii-based fic because, my god, those photos were something else, but I liked this idea a lot. A little late but Happy Jihyo Day!

Length 2.2K

Jihyo X Mreader

Jihyo craned her neck, groaning as her muscles relaxed. The heavy steam from the water covered her, giving her all the privacy she could ever want. “Sana was right,” she said to herself. The Japanese woman had harped on about outdoor onsens being the best in winter. A smile crept onto Jihyo’s face as she sunk deeper into the water. Her head above the water line, Jihyo let out a long moan, enjoying the little trip her members had planned for her. She shut her eyes, leaning back against the wall. Tensing her body before letting her muscles relax, Jihyo felt good. One hand snaked its way down her smooth stomach, stopping just above her slit. Jihyo pursed her lips before a sly smile appeared as she considered touching herself. No one was around; no one would know. Now was the time for her to be bold, Jihyo thought to herself. She deserved it after her hard work. She moved her hand lower, grazing her clit with her middle finger. A low exhale flowed between Jihyo’s lips. She slowly moved her fingers around her clit, teasing it as her other hand reached for her breast, grabbing the large mound. Jihyo cooed, laying her head back against the rocks as she pushed two fingers into her cunt. 

She curled them, rubbing them against her g-spot before pulling them out, dragging them against her walls. “Oh shit,” Jihyo groaned, pushing her fingers back inside. She felt so naughty, touching herself in a place where someone could easily walk in. The hotel might’ve been practically empty, but the chance remained. Jihyo’s moans continued, creeping in intensity as she played with her body, tugging at her hard nipples and pumping her fingers deeper into her slit. Small waves spread across the pool as Jihyo tuned out the world around her and continued masturbating.

You walked into the bathing room, just outside the onsen, needing to wash yourself off before entering the open-air hot spring. You washed yourself quickly, excited to experience the spring when it was so cold outside. Once you turned off the water, you heard a sound you didn’t expect. It came as quickly as it went, but you kept quiet, hoping to listen to it again to ensure you didn’t make it up. You heard it again, the same as the first time. You move toward the sound, opening the sliding door and stepping out. The sound was as clear as day; they were moans. You felt awkward listening to the sounds of a woman pleasing herself, but something kept you rooted in place. You take in a deep breath before speaking out, “Hello?” You ask. The moans stop quickly, and a silence comes over the hot springs. 

On the other side of the steam, Jihyo stopped her actions, pulling her fingers out of herself and breathing heavily. She was so close to cumming; her fingers grazed her clit as she pulled her hands away from her slit. Jihyo rubbed her legs together slowly; she wanted to cum. Pushing herself off the back wall, Jihyo moves through the steam. Her head pokes through the steam first, and you catch sight of the beautiful woman coming to the bath’s edge. Her cheeks were flush as she put on her best smile. Thoughts flood your head about the beautiful woman being the one masturbating in the hot spring. You can imagine what she must’ve been doing. A giggle from the beautiful woman brings you out of your thoughts. 

Jihyo was smiling because she could see how hard she had made you. She snaked one of her hands down to her slit, moving her fingers in slow circular motions as she licked her lips. “Come on in; the water will help you relax, and I can too,” Jihyo said with a wink. You gulp at the offer and step into the hot water. Jihyo smiles and beckons you closer as she swims back to the far edge. You follow her, meeting her again at the pool’s edge. Getting a closer look at her body, you become harder. The cold winter air hits her chest, and you watch her nipples harden. She takes a step closer to you, her hand moving under the water, stopping when she wraps it around your shaft. Jihyo's breathing quickens as her hand moves along your shaft slowly. She takes another step closer to you as you groan. “You’re so hard,” her voice is just above a whisper as she strokes your cock, the water around you making small waves. Running her hand along your length made Jihyo’s lust grow stronger. Silently, she moved to the pool’s edge, climbing onto the seats. 

You bend Jihyo over the edge of the hot spring; her tits are pressed against the cold stones that surround the hot spring. She kicked her feet gently, excited at the thought of your cock inside her. She already had one of her hands rubbing her cunt as she waited for you. Jihyo smirked as she felt your cock rub against her slit; her legs were almost shaking with anticipation. You push into her warm folds, her walls wrapping around you, squeezing you as you go deeper. Jihyo cried out, feeling your cock stretching her tiny cunt; she only added to her pleasure as her fingers moved over her clit faster. “Fuck! You’re so big!” Jihyo moaned, feeling your cock press against her womb. 

You began pulling out of the young woman, her walls trying to pull you back in. You left only the tip inside her before ramming your length back inside. Jihyo’s body jiggled as you slammed yourself inside; she loudly moaned as your cock stuffed her. You moved your hands onto Jihyo’s waist as you began to speed began to pick up. Every thrust made Jihyo’s body bounce forward, dragging her already hard nipples against the stone floor. Moans flowed endlessly from her lips as you drove your cock deep into her. Jihyo was getting close to her climax, her walls tightening around you, her moans getting louder. Jihyo could feel the explosion coming, the tightness in her core about to blow. “Fuck, I’m going to cum!” She cried out, her hand furiously rubbing her clit. “I’m cumming!” She screams out as you slam your cock back into her. Jihyo’s explodes on your cock, her body shaking as she climaxes. You keep thrusting, though, her tight cunt feeling too good to stop.

You bring your hand down on Jihyo’s ass, the stinging pain turning into pleasure. Jihyo was losing her mind; her body was craving more. “Harder! Fuck me harder!” You slapped her ass again before doing the same to the other cheek. Jihyo growled as you fueled her desires. Every thrust into her wet cunt pushed her closer to another orgasm. She could feel your thrusts becoming rougher, your cock smashing into her fertile womb. When your cock began to throb, her moans got louder. Jihyo pushed her ass against back against you. 

“I’m going to cum,” You grunt through gritted teeth.

Under normal circumstances, Jihyo would’ve told any man to pull out, but she didn’t want that right now. She wanted to feel your cum inside her. “Shoot it inside me! Fill me!” Jihyo cried out. 

There was nothing more you wanted at this moment. You dug your hands into Jihyo’s soft flesh and buried yourself inside, flooding Jihyo’s fertile womb with your cum. Jihyo felt the hot, sticky substance fill her body, the warmth spreading from her core to the rest of her body. She was in heaven; her mouth hung open with a smile, her tongue sticking out as you kept yourself pressed against her slit.

You reveled in the feeling of cumming inside Jihyo’s cunt. You were still hard, though. You lifted Jihyo’s body out of the hot spring and laid her on the rocky ground. Jihyo breathed heavily as you took hold of her legs. “That’s it, keep going,” she cooed. You paired her legs together and folded Jihyo in half before pushing your cock back inside the idol. “Mmm, yes,” she moaned as you began to thrust into her again. Her back pressing into the rocky ground didn’t bother her; the cold didn’t bother her. Jihyo was solely focused on the way your cock was stretching her and fucking her senseless. You were losing control as you continued thrusting, Jihyo’s legs spread apart as you thrust wildly. Jihyo’s constant moans fueled you, however. Every thrust into Jihyo’s cunt caused more of your seed to spill out. You didn’t care, though; you would fill Jihyo up again. 

You lean down, capturing Jihyo’s lips and groping her tits. Jihyo warmly accepted your touch, wrapping her arms and legs around you to keep you close. “Fucking cum inside me. I want you to cum inside me again.” Jihyo grunted as your cock continued to pound her sore cunt. You already knew you were going to, and Jihyo’s continued begging made you more excited about it. You squeezed Jihyo’s tits roughly, enjoying the soft mounds to the fullest while you kissed her. You felt Jihyo’s legs tighten around you, her moans growing louder, like before. On the verge of another orgasm, you sped up your thrusts. Jihyo felt your cock throbbing inside her and used her legs to push you in deeper. She held you tightly as you came together, your cum spewing inside her already ruined cunt. “That’s it, cum inside me,” Jihyo said breathlessly. She pulled you into a kiss, rocking her hips as she drained you of your second load. 

“Can you go again? I want one more, please, just one more.” Jihyo was already tired, but her body was craving another creampie; it wanted to be filled with cum, and her mind could not resist. You couldn’t either. 

You nod to Jihyo’s question and move onto your back. “Ride me, baby.”

“Yes, sir,” Jihyo climbs over you, grabbing your cock and rubbing it against her entrance before slamming herself down on it. Jihyo lifts herself slowly, letting more of your length outside her body before dropping back down on your cock. As Jihyo begins to get into a rhythm, you watch her heavy breasts bounce. You reach up, grabbing one of her mounds and squeezing it. Jihyo smiles as your hands run along her body. “I need this cock,” Jihyo mumbles as she leans over you, her tits swinging as she slams herself down on you. You lean up and kiss Jihyo, running your hands across her ass before spanking one of her cheeks. “I want you to cum inside me, breed me. Breed this little pussy.” Jihyo mumbles, her legs growing weak. 

You pull away from the kiss and take in the sight before you. The beautiful woman riding your cock was sweaty, steam coming off her body because of the cold weather. You grab Jihyo’s waist and help her move along your cock. “Yes, yes, yes! Fuck, I’m cumming!” Jihyo cries out, collapsing on top of you, your cock impaling her. You hold Jihyo against you as you cum inside her, filling her cunt with your semen, flooding her womb. You keep your hand on her lower back as her walls milk you. The two of you continue your escapades, moving from the hot spring to your hotel room.

The following morning, Jihyo was the first to wake up. She was on her stomach, her body sore and tired. She looked around, wondering where she was, when she saw your sleeping form beside her. She tried to cover herself only to realize there was something wet between her legs. It was cum. Jihyo grew more and more confused at the situation. She headed to your bathroom and grabbed a towel before leaving for her room. She washed herself, wondering what had come over her the night before. As she remembered the night before, she felt her body getting hot. It was sort of magical. She bit her lip as she considered going back to the hot spring. Jihyo had a few more days at the hotel, and it was a vacation for her to relax. A small smile appeared on her face as she made her decision.

Back in Korea, the members giggled to themselves. “Do you think she’s having a good time?” Nayeon asked. “Do you think she looked into it before she got there?”

“I don’t think so. She was so excited that it was a free trip she didn’t ask many questions. I kept pushing her to go into the hot spring, too.” Sana replied with a smile. “It’s super strong, too; the aphrodisiac really gets to you. You don’t even notice it either because the water feels so good you just want to relax.” Sana cups her cheeks and smiles as she remembers her trip to that same hotel. “It was such a good time; I woke up the next morning with four guys. I hope Jihyo got that sort of treatment; it’s too bad that not many people go in winter.”  The group laughs as they imagine what sort of situation Jihyo got herself into.

[nkogneatho]

𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐒 ✦ 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔

—characters: oliver, shidou, sae.

—cw: fem!reader, fingering, pearl necklace, overstimulation, finger sucking, not proofread.

—a/n: i need lobotomy. you do too if you're reading this shit.

𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐔

oliver's hands are thick and has arms full of veins. he is not exactly a workout freak but he does fair amount of sets during practice resulting in his amazing physique. his fingers are girthy and he has amazing control over them.

oliver likes to spend his time with his fingers up your pussy, stretching your hole with his thick digits. he loves the feeling of your wetness dripping down his knuckles as he pumps them inside you.

"nasty little pussy. always so greedy, right, babe?" he whispers against your ears. "gimme one more and i promise i'll put my cock in then." you know he's lying. you've already came thrice and he's been repeating the same damn thing but won't stop fingering you. you can feel his erection poking your lower back, your pussy fluttering and craving more. too bad. aiku will only pull his fingers out when he wants to and not when you want to.

"oli...ngh—gunna cum," you mewl as your body tightens.

"let go, baby. 'm right here. cum on my fingers, yeah?" and you do, legs shivering as they close up, trapping his arms in place. when you calm down. aiku gives you peck on your head and you finally think he's gonna put it in. finally. "let's see if you can take four fingers." fucking hell.

𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐘𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐈

shidou's hands are very veiny even when he is not flexing his muscles. but i doubt this man is ever relaxed because he is on adrenaline 24x7. his skin is glowing with melanin so each nerve is visible. he works out a lot. well his workout is divided in two sections. gym and good old sex.

ryu's favorite thing to do with his hands are massage your tits. massage would be and understatement 'cause this man is full on groping, pinching and abusing them. your poor nipples are always sore when he is done with you. don't get me wrong. he loves to suck on them too. but something about fondling them while thrusting in you gets him off so much. even more lovely when he spits on them and smears them with his thumb.

"got such a sexy set on ya, babe. fhuuuck. gonna make me shoot a load just with this. ya won' mind if i slap them yeah?"

*slap*

you hiss at the sensation. "shit. did my pretty pussy just clenched? fucking hell. ah! my balls are tightening," he moans. you think he's gonna cum inside you but shidou pulls out faster than a lightning, his veiny hands tightening and stroking his cock as he aims for your tits. and just in a second, he is shooting thick translucent ropes all over them. he takes his palm and spread his cum all over your tits. "fuck. jus' like a glazed donut." he takes a lick. "best fucking donut ever."

𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐄

given sae's slender yet washboard ab physique, his hands are long. not full of veins but his knuckles are very visible and it's so hot. his veins show when he is working out, pissed or...horny. sae didn't know he had attractive hands and he was dating a person who has a hand kink. what he did know was you loved to always suckle on his thumb when his palm rests on your jaw while dry humping you. so sae tries to push it further this time.

you're sitting and reading a book on the couch before sae's shadow towers over you. you shoot your head up, looking at him with confused eyes. he scans your face for a minute before speaking.

"open," he commands. you're not sure at first what he means but the way his green eyes are fixated on your mouth, your jaw instinctively follows his command like a servant. before you can grasp the situation, sae's middle and ring finger are already in your mouth. he let's you suckle on them for a few seconds and he's quick to start thrusting them. he might have just discovered that you have a hand kink is pretty convenient for him too 'cause the boner he popped might be the fastest ever.

"i am fucked," is all he says before thrusting his digits deeper, his other hand palming his cock through his gray sweats. his biceps buldge out and his veins pop when he fists his dick so you deliver the most appropriate reaction. a moan and a whimper that vibrate around his fingers sending shivers in his body. he's right. he is fucked. and so are you.

[starmocha]

POV: you're boomshakalaka'ing with all three men from the living room to the kitchen to the bedroom, feeling their hands all over your body, every one of them restless and needing you just as badly as you want them all, getting so breathless as they’re all stealing your lips in quick succession because each one of them wants to be your favorite, but you don’t have favorites, you love them all equally and are planning to treat them well just like they do with you, and of course Zaynie here is going to get the best head of his life as Sylus eats you out, but who can forget sweet Caleb so it’s a good thing you still have a hand available and isn’t it cute how small it looks wrapped around his large length, and what’s that, oh god, Sylus is pumping his fat cock as he devours you and suddenly it’s a game to see who is going to cum first, but fuck, they’re not playing fair since they all know you have such a voice kink and every one of their voices are so delicious as they groan and call you their pretty little slut, and yes, Sylus is right, your pretty mouth does more than just moan like a whore, it can also take Zaynie’s cock so well, and the handsome doctor is stroking your cheek and praising you, knowing full well you also have a praise kink, and it’s making you twitch and clench as you choke on him when Sylus suddenly gives your ass a playful slap that you like perhaps just a little too much, but who fucking cares about modesty when you can feel your orgasm nearing as they are all edging you like the mean boys they are, and oh fuck, it’s all too much, and you cum first, the sight is enough to make all three men lose it and cover and fill you with their release, their amused chuckles loud as they take in the sight of you being such a messy little slut but fucking hell do they love seeing you like this, and of course this is far from over since they still have two other holes they need to stretch and fill, so now the question is which cock are you going to let destroy your pussy first? It doesn’t really matter, perhaps, because by the end of this long and intense night, they’re all going to make sure your pussy is just full of a cocktail of their seeds as they all take turn breeding you over and over again until you’re just whining and sobbing from the intensity of this overstimulation and ravage fucking, but they won’t let you rest until every one of them have cummed inside you, because after all, sharing is caring, and you are their favorite fucktoy to share.

[pr0cyon-lotor]

AU where chess is a common strategy game in PIDW and SY is a chess master before he gets transmigrated. Like undefeated and well known in the community. He's probably popular even in mainstream social media because he's a pretty boy with a soft demeanor.

Of course he still reads PIDW and is a massive hater, but he now hides it because he sees it as shameful especially with his reputation of being a kind-hearted person.

Anyway he dies and gets thrown into the novel a bit after the Qing generation ascends. He's just a rogue cultivator or maybe even a demon, not really important. What's important is that he gets bored and misses his old hobby.

He finds out chess is a thing in this world and immediately hops into it again. Sadly, he keeps beating people and no one is a real challenge. So to give himself a puzzle, he picks up other strategy games and gets really good at them too. And after a few years, he is well known in PIWD with his skills in a variety of games.

Enter SJ. Fresh off getting LBH into his peak and STRESSED about how much he sees himself in this child and about how much he hates that fact.

He enters the Warm Red Pavilion and finds some guy playing a game with one of the jiejies. One of those little mind games to entertain the guests, and he's playing against the best one.

SJ watches while he waits for his room and to his surprise the man wins. He immediately gets ready to step in-between because whenever guests win against one of the prostitutes they always get handsy and he knows that particular one doesn't like to do sex work (like maybe she specializes in poetry and dancing instead yk).

Instead of the man getting handsy, he asks for another game, which she accepts with a smile. And now SJ is watching them play with much more interest. After a while the madam comes over and asks if he's interested in their regular.

SJ asks about the man and gets his name and finds out that apparently SY comes to the brothel to play against the ladies and listen to music at times.

SJ keeps it in mind and then leaves for his room. The next time he sees SY is during another trip down the mountain (probably dressed down to not draw attention to himself). This time he was in a tea shop playing go against an elderly man. SY wins again and patiently explains what mistakes the old man made.

The old man accepts defeat and asks him for a rematch. SY agrees, and SJ finally approaches out of curiosity. SJ asks if he can play SY after they're done. The old man says something about how he's probably going to lose anyway and says SJ just takes his turn.

SJ accepts it and sits in front of SY. He thinks it's going to be an easy win, something to stroke his bruised ego. Only for him to get completely annihilated like it was an embarrassing lost for him. (It wasn't embarrassing, he almost won, but he didn't win so obviously it was embarrassing)

SJ expects gloating and nearly crushes his fan in his hand. SY tells him that he was a tough opponent and he asks for another rematch. SJ is confused about the sincerity and hesitantly agrees even though his ego tells him to cut his losses now.

They continue to play multiple games in a row, each one getting longer and longer with each mistake SY explains and helps SJ fix (he doesn't even notice he's taking advice from a man). They continue playing and drinking tea until they're kicked out because the shop is closing.

SY laughs sheepishly and says he didn't even notice the time pass. He asks if SJ is free to play again because it's been the first time in years he's had that much fun against someone else. SJ agrees because he refuses to have a losing streak (and he found it a little fun too).

Eventually it becomes a routine, SJ comes down the mountain every week and plays SY in go until the establishment they're in kicks them out. And because his brain is constantly on how to beat SY, he starts neglecting other things (like abusive LBH and other duties).

And because he's neglecting duties, eventually he has to do a information collecting mission with Shang Qinghua. They arrive at the town and they're tasked with collecting information on a lead of a demon hiding within a festival.

Somehow this leads to SY joining their little info gathering group and finding out SQH is Airplane (he's still somehow unaware of SJ being SQQ because of course he is).

Shenanigans ensue and somehow a sting operation is set up with SY being used as bait. He manages to coerce the demon into a game of chess while he waits for SJ and SQH to arrive.

They play chess. He thinks he'll just stall until the two get there, but halfway through he moves his knight and it ends up near the demon's knight. And with a straight face, the demon takes both knights off the board while claiming "And they're both out for horsie marriage."

Right then SJ and SQH arrive to slay the demon, only to bare witness to SY doing the Xianxia equivalent of shooting the demon point blank with a Glock 19 because surprise surprise that bullshit move pissed off the chess master.

SJ says something sarcastic about not needing to save the damsel (they put) in distress. And then SY asks to speak to SQH privately while dragging him out by the ear.

He continues to interrogate the author because what the ACTUAL FUCK was that bullshit move?! And SQH defends himself by saying he never thought a professional chess player would ever read his stuff, much less play the game in-verse. He tells SY he thought it would be funny if that could happen.

Anyway.

SJ has to pry SY off SQH because he almost legitimately strangles him to death. SY is dragged away, screaming things that'd make even a demon blush, and admittedly, SJ is amused.

They end up in some tea shop, SY muttering about the idiocy of it all in English, and SJ ordering for both of them. He asks what got SY so mad since like this guy has had an unshakable pleasant demeanor until now.

SY makes up some story about how his hometown played chess differently and that he's realizing he doesn't know how chess is played anywhere else. He asks SJ for a guide for playing chess because he doesn't want to overreact like he did before.

SJ agrees in exchange for a guide of how his hometown played chess. The deal was made and after they came back to town they both write their manuals. They exchange them in their next meetup, and SY is muttering about how stupid some of the rules are. SJ finds it very funny as he reads the manual SY gave him, finding that he prefers his version since there was less unnecessary traps.

SJ eventually asks to play SY in a chess game once he understands his version. SY happily agrees and they play over and over again until SJ beat him. SY is over the moon and asks for another rematch, which he gets beaten again. They play a few more times wins alternating until SY grabs SJ's hands and tells him he's in love with him and his massive brain.

SJ is caught off guard and flustered, so he hits SY with his fan and calls him shameless as he leaves to preserve as much face as possible. SY whines about him being unfair and follows SJ while apologizing about the comment.

SJ ignores him and leaves SY alone. He thinks he fucked up until the next time they meet, and SJ brings him a book he been meaning to buy but just couldn't find. SY is about to comment on the gift but SJ shuts him up and hides his face behind his fan. He manages to see the smallest hint of a blush and (shockingly) understands.

They both start exchanging gifts each meetup in silent courting. And surprisingly he hasn't abused LBH since he got there (because he forgets to. he has a boyfriend to worry about thank you very much 🤨), so when the Conference comes, SJ doesn't throw LBH into the abyss.

He still ends up in the abyss but only because MF got thrown in when they encountered MBJ, and he jumped after his shixiong. SY is there because of course he wants to stop the evil scum villain from hurting his little lamb, but he's just standing there like

Because how else is he supposed to react to LBH throwing himself into the abyss to go after MF who was thrown in when they encountered MBJ. Was Ming Fan even supposed to be there????

Also why is SJ in such ornate robes. Why is he mourning? Why are they going back to Qing Jing? WHY IS NING YINGYING CALLING SHEN JIU BABA?! WHY IS EVERYONE CALLING HIM SHIZUN?!!!?!???

[sirfrogsworth]

Canada: The Crudest Crude Oil

So, Canada has some shitty oil.

I don't know what Canada oil ate, but it might need a juice cleanse or something.

Trump is putting a 10% tariff on this shit.

This is called heavy sour crude oil. Because not all crude oil is the same. It can be light. It can be sweet. It can be heavy. It can be sour. Light and sweet is the easiest to refine. Heavy and sour (the Canada poop) is the most difficult.

But the US specializes in refining the shittiest crude. That's why we import so much from Canada. We have developed the best technologies to turn this shitty tar sand oil into something useful. We buy it cheap from Canada, make it useful (gas, kerosene, plastics, asphalt, etc), and then resell it.

This ends up being about a $700 billion business that generates about $175 billion in tax revenue.

To make things more interesting, the US has a lot of its own oil. Which is why Trump loves to say "drill, baby, drill." But our oil is light and sweet. It's the good stuff. Easy to refine.

That's good... right?

Not so fast!

Since no other countries are very good at processing the shit oil, we send our good stuff to Europe. They can easily refine it and we make a lot of money selling it to them.

Here's the rub...

The US isn't really set up to refine the good shit. Most of our refinery infrastructure is meant to process the Canada poop. So even though we technically have plenty of our own oil, we don't really have a lot of places to process it.

So I guess we would have to send it to Europe and buy it back.

Or we would have to build new refineries.

Or we would have to get shit oil from other places.

And those places?

Russia and Venezuela.

I have no idea if Trump understands any of this. Or if he thinks all oil is the same. But I feel like fucking with a $700 billion industry is bad for the economy.

I really don't understand why this is happening. I don't know if Trump is going rogue and doing this on his own. Or if Putin set this up so we will buy oil from Russia. Or if there is some other special interest group that wants to torpedo our refinery economy.

None of this makes a lot of sense to me and I don't see many people talking about this aspect of the tariff problem. I don't think oil quality is well known to the general public and maybe Trump's puppeteers are counting on that ignorance to do some sinister shit.

In any case, I imagine gas prices are going up. I'm sure the MAGA crowd, famous for being angry at gas prices, will finally see the light and turn on Trump.

I'm just kidding.

They will find some way to say it is a good thing and keep kicking themselves in the nuts.

[tarotbyjam24]

messages from your future spouse

Likes , reblogs and feedbacks are very much appreciated 💗

Masterlist \pick a cards

Disclaimer: This is general reading . It may or may not resonate . If reading doesn't resonate let it fly and choose another pile or simply there were no messages for you through this reading 😊 Take the reading lightly as nothing's set in stone until you believe so🕊️

Thankyou for stopping by let's dive in ☄️,shall we ? Choose the pile you feel most drawn to 🧸

Pile 1

Anyone who takes the time to be kind is beautiful .

Some people don't change no matter how hard you try.

But we can not simply sit and stare at our wonds forever .

You spread joy because you're joy that's what I admire most about you .

First love teaches us what love isn't .

It's better to feel the hurt of honesty then to live in a false comfort of lie .

The secret of life is to be obsessed with yourself and be kind to everyone around you.

Some days are just heavy .

Everything you lost will be replaced with something better.

Imagine being loved the way you love .

Pile 2

You haven't met the best version of yourself yet don't give up

when you choose yourself everything around you will choose you too

remember you can start again over and over as often as you need

people don't cry because they're weak it's because they've been strong for too long

the little things ? little moments ? they aren't little

perhaps we should learn to love ourselves so loudly , it silences our insecurities

I love seeing you happy

it happened so that you could grow

you will forever be my always

do it for your future self

Pile 3

You can't go back and change the beginning but you can start where you're and change the ending

expect nothing appreciate everything

you can also comit injustice by doing nothing

be patient. Sometimes you've to go through the worst to get best

how many time can the same thing break your heart ? As long as you love it

find joy in simple things life will always be fulfilling

In the end, I realized the hurt never turned to hate. No matter how much my emotions led me to feel so. I never stopped loving people. I stopped trusting them.

The art of observing and not absorbing

Not liking me is fine, but making up lies to destroy my character is weird.

Keep it private until you know it's permanent

Imagine being loved the way you love .

Pile 4

First love teaches us what love isn't .

Discipline is the strongest form of self love .

She's an old soul with young eyes, a vintage heart, and a beautiful mind

people talk about me behind my back and i just sit here like damn i got myself a fan club

It takes grace to remain kind in cruel situations .

Forgive yourself for the mask you wore when you didn't feel safe enough to be yourself

YOU DON'T NEED EVERYONE TO love you, JUST A FEW GOOD PEOPLE

may every hour in your soul be golden, may it be filled with endless magic .

Vibes to carry through out the week

You're not sensitive. You're not overreacting. If it hurts you, it hurts you. Don't let anyone invalidate your feelings. Ever

I hope you liked the reading . Thank you so much for letting me read for you . Wishing you best ahead . 🎀 Bless you and have a nice day 🫶🏻

Loads of love , jam\gem

Exchanges : open , collabs for paps : open

[onlyyvette]

idk why but i just needed to get this off my chest :p

warnings: a little bit of corruption + dom reader + handjobs

Personally, I absolutely love the idea of having a "straight" guy as one of your favorite bros. The two of you have such a good relationship, always meeting up at the gym with each other, bringing an extra water bottle for the other, hanging out at each other's home, great stuff. Until he brings up the idea of blowing off some steam by jerking each other off. Like bros though, of course.

And like a good friend, you agree because that's what bros do! Totally not because of his perfectly sculpted arms, that big and bouncy chest, and thighs that would absolutely crush you between them. Of course not.

Little do you know, your bro has been struggling with a little crush on you. By crush, he means that he needs you to fuck him so hard he breaks. He always thought he was straight, never even gave it much thought besides the guys he would see once in a while that he would find hot if he were a girl. That was until the moment he saw you half-naked in the showers, his eyes nearly glued to you unclothed dick. He couldn't help but feel a throb himself while he ogled your form.

Of course he was still straight! It was only normal that a male would want to size up another male, just guys being guys. And it's pretty normal for guys to jerk off together, right?

Maybe he was wrong.

He can barely keep up with your precum slicked hand moving up and down your cocks, he's too busy whimpering and fucking up into your fist. He's letting out whines of Bro, slow down and Too much, if only he could hear himself, how pathetic he sounds nearly losing his mind just from getting jerked off by another man, his bro.

He's so damn sexy like this, his brows scrunched up as he holds back his tears. Beads of sweat roll down his flushed and panting face. You might pull on his dick a little too hard, but he's so cute you can't help yourself. His eeks of pleasure only worsens(betters) his situation.

By the time he's already shot his load, another one upcoming, you finally release. As his mind tries its best to unscramble itself, he can't help but want to do something like this again, or even go further. You may call him gay for it, but you have to understand, right? It's just bros helping out bros.

[limnaia]

Create or Destroy Water. I am going to wreak unholy havoc. Let's take a look, shall we?

1st level transmutation

Casting Time: 1 action

Range: 30 feet

Components: V S M (A drop of water if creating water or a few grains of sand if destroying it)

Duration: Instantaneous

Classes: Cleric, Druid

You either create or destroy water.

Create Water: You create up to 10 gallons of clean water within range in an open container. Alternatively, the water falls as rain in a 30-foot cube within range, extinguishing exposed flames in the area.

Destroy Water: You destroy up to 10 gallons of water in an open container within range. Alternatively, you destroy fog in a 30-foot cube within range.

At Higher Levels: When you cast this spell using a spell slot of 2nd level or higher, you create or destroy 10 additional gallons of water, or the size of the cube increases by 5 feet, for each slot level above 1st.

Alright, so:

I need a drop of water in order to cast it, which is easily done if I start carrying some around with me like Katara.

10 gallons is a reasonable, but not enormous amount, so flooding things would take a great deal of time and effort and recasting, and doesn't seem terribly practical. It also specifies that the water I produce is clean - meaning I can't decide to create water from an oil spill, and then set it on fire. (There is no rule saying I can't keep a small bottle of petrol and a lighter on me for this kind of eventuality, however.)

So I think the phrase 'an open container' is what is going to be doing the heavy lifting, here. It does not specify that the container must be intended to be used to hold water, nor does it specify that the container must be *good* at holding water. The upturned brim of someone's hat could constitute a container, albeit one that is not water resistant and going to soak the person underneath.

Similarly, it does not specify that you need to see the dimensions of the container in order to fill it. After all, if one wished to add some water to a local reservoir that was low, this would be a reasonable use of the spell, no? You don't need to be able to see the whole reservoir to recognise it as a container of sorts - you just need to see the mouth of the container. Arguably, therefore, the human body, provided the mouth is open, is a viable target for this. Either you overfill the lungs and drown someone, or you overfill the stomach and cause them, at best, a severe medical emergency.

It also doesn't specify that you cannot *create* the container beforehand. Say you need to get through a wall - if you can poke a small hole in the mortar, you have made a (poor) container. The effects of the spell are instantaneous - so the instant appearance of 10 gallons of water in a space that is barely able to hold ten drops is going to cause a rather dramatic pressure change and the wall is liable to burst.

If someone has central heating in their home and it's on - that is an open container. What does a sudden extra 10 gallons of (presumably room temperature) water do to the pipes and the boiler? Break them, at the very least, potentially explosively. Likewise their plumbing - arguably a toilet is an always open container, provided you put the seat up.

If you need to stop someone's technology from working - a sudden, magically induced rainstorm indoors over their servers is liable to do the job, I'd wager.

Water destroys everything, in the end. It wears away stone, extinguishes fire, pushes out air. It is needed by all life on the planet, but not too much. The entirety of human architecture is based around keeping water out of certain places. You don't need to pull a Katara and form a whip out of it in order to make yourself a profound nuisance with this spell.

The Randomizer

[kashverse]

Nanami and yuuji? Or maybe jst Nanami..You can choose the prompt! I jst wanna see more of them

i live to write for papamin and yuuji <3 thanks for requesting

there were many things people didn’t know about nanami. for instance, his impressive ability to make five different kinds of soufflés, his uncanny knack for always finding the best parking spots, and, of course, his surprisingly adept skill with a guitar. whenever he strummed those strings, the rich, mellow notes would fill the room like warm honey, each chord carefully played, each song a testament to years of practice. and, of course, yuuji noticed.

"papa," yuuji announced one day, struggling to drag nanami’s acoustic guitar across the floor, the instrument’s body screeching horribly against the tiles. “i wanna be a moosician like you!” nanami, cringing at the sacrilegious sound of his beloved guitar being manhandled, managed a tight smile. "that’s great, yuuji. but maybe we should start with something… smaller."

and so, enter the ukulele. a tiny, four-stringed instrument that seemed perfectly sized for yuuji’s chubby little hands. yuuji took to it immediately, strumming with all the enthusiasm of a rockstar playing a sold-out concert at madison square garden. "TWINKLE, TWINKLE, LITTLE STAaaaRRRRR!" he belted out in a voice that could only be described as beautifully tone-deaf. "HOW I WONDER WHAT YOU AaaaREEEE!"

you tried to hide your smile behind your hand as yuuji’s fingers fumbled clumsily over the strings, creating a unique version of the song that could only be described as experimental jazz. nanami, sipping his coffee with the resignation of a man who knew he’d never experience silence again, watched as his son poured his entire soul into the performance.

"up above the world so high! like a diamond… in the… pie?" yuuji paused, face scrunching in confusion. "no… in the sky!"

nanami chuckled softly. "almost, yuuji."

but the grand finale was yet to come. as yuuji reached the dramatic end, he went for a flourish, fingers flying wildly over the strings—and the ukulele pick slipped from his fingers, disappearing into the sound hole with a soft thunk.

there was a moment of silence. yuuji blinked down at the instrument, poking a chubby finger inside. 

"papa… it ate my pick."

you snorted, trying to hold back a laugh, while nanami set down his coffee, hiding his grin behind his hand.

"papa, is it hungry? do i need to feed it more picks?"

nanami shook his head. "no, yuuji. we just have to get it out."

"okay!" yuuji turned the ukulele upside down, shaking it violently, tiny brows furrowed in concentration. "give it back, you bad ukey-lely!"

you finally let out a giggle, watching as nanami tried to calm yuuji down, showing him how to gently retrieve the pick instead of waterboarding the poor instrument. and later, when the ukulele was pick-free and yuuji was tucked in for the night, you glanced over at nanami, who was softly strumming his guitar in the dim light of the living room.

"i think he gets his musical talent from you," you murmured. nanami chuckled, plucking a gentle melody. “he certainly gets the enthusiasm.” 

you leaned into his side, a soft smile playing on your lips. "and the dramatics."

he hummed, fingers dancing over the strings. "we’ll work on the lyrics next."

from his room, yuuji’s voice called out, "papa, can i sing twinkle twinkle again tomorrow?"

nanami sighed, setting his guitar down. "of course, yuuji. every night if you want."

"yay!"

and though it meant endless nights of off-key lullabies and missing ukulele picks, nanami couldn’t help but think that, these were the moments he’d remember forever.

plus, he figured he could write a pretty great song about it one day.

[vmpireslut]

♡.ྀི₊thinking about mean!overworked and underfucked nanami:3

it’s utterly cruel as he forces your fucked out face against the penthouse window. any other time, you'd be gushing over the breathtaking view of the city lights, but the way kento's fat tip gnaws at your cervix has your eyes rolling back in your skull.

a sinewy hand grips your throat, tightening to the point where you feel lightheaded. the other hand is firmly placed on your hip, anchoring your ass against his pelvis. you've been in this position for what feels like an eternity, pressed against the glass like an animal as he fucked you like a mutt in heat. the chill of the glass contrasts with the warmth radiating from him, each thrust causing the surface to shudder beneath you.

“such a slut, letting me use you like this—ha! bet it turns you on fucking your boss like this—god,” he snarls, voice thick with lust. the wet squelch of your slick pussy is audible in the room, only adding to your embarrassment. the shame has your eyes brimming with tears, the sting of them mixing with the ache between your legs.

he chuckles darkly. "that's right, sweetheart. i know how much of a fucking whore you are." he's relentless, driving his cock deep into your cunt as he uses your throat to keep you upright. “m’not a whore!” you try to argue, but it's incoherent due to the cock shoved in your cunt. he doesn't respond, but the grip on your hip tightens. his pace is brutal, each snap of his hips causing your ass to jiggle. your pussy flutters around his girth, sucking him in as he plows into you. the pressure building in your abdomen too much.

“don’t make me laugh.” he hisses, bending his knees slightly so that he can hit a new angle, the new position knocking a series of whines from your throat. you’re pretty sure he’s in your womb, molding your gummy walls around his length.

"always prancing around in those slutty skirts and shirts—i see the way you stare at me when you think i'm not looking. so needy. you wanted this from the beginning, didn't you?” he pauses, letting out a guttural moan.

“i knew all along. how could i not? you were practically throwing yourself at me. batting your fucking eyelashes, and now i've got you exactly where i want you. i bet it was all just a ploy to get my dick. i'm right, aren't i?"

even as he’s degrading you, you can't help but moan. kento’s hand moves to your ass, giving your cheek a sharp smack. the stinging sensation forces a cry from you, and you clench around his member, causing him to let out a string of curses.

“my point proven—ha! s’fuckin sad.”

the hand gripping your throat moves to the back of your head, pushing your face further against the cool glass.

"i'm not gonna last long," he groans, his hips beginning to falter. he's going harder, faster, and the way he splits you makes you scream. tears begin to stream down your cheeks as you come undone, the sensation of being full, so fucking full, causing you to go limp in his grasp. he doesn't stop, and the way he fucks you through your orgasm makes your vision go spotty.

he draws your hair into his hands, creating a makeshift ponytail for his fingers to weave into. then, he yanks hard, the sudden action forcing you to arch your back. “why do sluts always have the best pussy? no fair.” he sneers, he's fucking into you with such fervor that you're afraid the window might splinter.

“s-slow down, nanami-san, you're gonna b-break me," you stammer, voice barely above a whisper.

he doesn't.

the only thing you can do is take it. the way his head slams against your hilt has your body shaking, the pressure building up in your core once more. you can't hold on much longer, not with him fucking you like this.

“slow down? you wanted this! running your fuckin’ leg up my thigh at a work dinner, touching me under the table like a desperate bitch—you want this, don't you? i bet you would've let me fuck you there. i could've bent you over that table and pounded your little cunt till you were screaming my name. and now, look at you—fucking pathetic. such a pretty face, such a nice little pussy” he moans loudly, "wrecked. all ruined. and all because of me."

he pulls your hair once more, forcing a strangled sob from your throat. the sound makes him chuckle. kento uses you as a ragdoll, pulling your hair, grabbing your waist, manhandling you like some cheap sex toy. it's fucking disgusting. he spanks you when you go limp, pulling your hair whenever you go quiet. and all you can do is take it. the pain is so delicious that you're not even thinking straight. you just want to be good for him.

he's mean. but you've never been this wet in your entire life. your body is writhing, begging for another release, and when kento’s fingers find your swollen clit, you nearly fall apart. his fingers rub tight circles against the bundle of nerves, sending a surge of pleasure up your calves. his hips stutter, and he's moaning louder.

your knees buckle, another slap. “stay up i won’t tell you again.”

he's so fucking close. the tip of his cock is battering the entrance to your womb, and the way his balls are slapping against your cunt is making you sob. he nearly blows his load in you when he presses a hand below your belly button, feeling his cock through your stomach. he curses, grabbing your hand and pressing it to the small bump.

"can you feel me, sweetheart? can you feel how deep i am? can you feel the bulge?" you can't respond, too fucked out to process the words. he lets go of your hair, instead using both hands to pin your arms above your head. his face is buried in the crook of your neck, and you can feel his hot breath against your skin. “can’t even speak, sad.” he grunts, pressing sloppy wet kisses behind your ear.

you're his, all his. “mine, mine, mine.”

the way his teeth graze the skin of your neck has your eyes fluttering shut, a fresh set of tears rolling down your cheeks. you're a fucking mess, and kento nanami loves it. he can't help himself, not when your cunt is sucking him in like this. he's so close, so fucking close.

the pressure building in his abdomen becomes unbearable, and he lets out a strangled groan as his hips snap forward, his seed spilling into you. he doesn't slow down, not even as his cum overflows from your pussy, dribbling down your thighs.

"oh my god—oh my fucking god," he pants, his thrusts erratic. he's so deep inside of you, and the feeling of him painting your insides white has you on the verge of blacking out. he's filling you, stretching you, breeding you. it's too much.

his grip on your wrists going lax, you're completely boneless. the only thing keeping you from crumpling onto the floor is kento’s firm grip on your wrists. he lets go, and you fall to the ground. the only sounds that fill the air are the soft whimpers that escape your lips, and his heavy breathing.

he runs a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself. he looks down at you, and the sight has his dick twitching.

you're a mess, his cum seeping from your cunt, mixing with your own arousal and dribbling down your thigh. the tear streaks running down your cheeks only make the scene more obscene. you're absolutely wrecked, and he's the one who did it. the thought has him grinning, and he crouches down to your level.

"you took me so well, baby girl," he purrs, tipping your chin upwards. his tone is surprisingly gentle, and you can't help but flush. his voice is a bit hoarse, a result of the noises he'd been making earlier. he brushes his thumb over your bottom lip, admiring how fucked out you look. he can't wait to get his hands on you again.

[suiana]

(yandere! golden boy x reader)

you don't think you've ever felt special. well, maybe your mom or something told you that when you were younger but you never really believed it.

you're too normal.

not exceptionally good at one thing, nor are you decently good at everything. you're okay at some stuff and you don't have any particular interests that you're really passionate about. and you know bevause you've tried changing. it's never worked, it never will.

because you're just you.

sometimes you wish you had talent, because then at least you'd be good at something. to lack the passion but have talent, that would be a dream for you. could you imagine? being effortlessly good and having people flock to you without trying? or even the opposite would be nice. being passionate about something sounds... like a life worth living. like your life has purpose. meaning. so what if you don't have talent? at least you'd want to be better, to improve yourself, to have the drive to live.

you have neither, what can you do?

all you do is go through the motions. wake up, go to work, come home, repeat. you don't have any hobbies other than watching the occasional television. it's not like your life is exceptionally hard either. you're blessed with good parents who love you and a select few friends that you're thankful for.

yet there's this... aching gap in your chest that's yearning for something more. something you can't give it. why? because you're just not special enough. you never are. you know this already, there's no use trying to change it.

so you scroll on social media constantly, trying to fill the empty gap in your chest.

but if anything, it only makes the gap worse.

it shows how much you're missing out, how others have it better than you. how others have something going on for them that lets them stand out. something that makes them alive.

maybe it's just the way things are, the way your life was always destined to be. to be the background character that admires others, never the one being admired. the supporting character that stays stagnant with no character growth.

you're just too average.

just plain old you.

plain like a cracker.

never the first choice, never a choice at all.

you merely exist on this world, you're never truely alive and living life like others. and it's a rather unfortunate thing to be doing when you could be achieveing so much but you're just... you. you don't even know who you are. you're just someone, really.

or at least that's what you think of yourself. he could never see you like that. not when he thinks that you're the best thing to ever happen to him.

he's the exact opposite of you. charming, handsome, an absolute adonis on earth. he's perfect in every sense of the word. and he chose you to give his heart to.

you have no idea why he even fell for you in the first place. you're average. not pretty, not ugly, just somehwere in between. you're not particularly charming or whatsoever, a little awkward but can hold a conversation. sure you've dated once or twice but they weren't serious and you didn't feel bad about break up either. you didn't feel much to begin with.

but with him... well, you think that maybe you just might have a chance.

those encouraging words and affectionate gazes, do you think that perhaps there's someone out there who could potentially change the way you live? the way you've been aimlessly drifting about?

there's just no way.

but you think you'll take the chance. with him, you'll get to do things you've never done before. if not, you'll just go back to where you were before. stuck in the middle, living out your days in an endless cycle of contributing to the Earth's death. there's nothing bad in accepting his hand, his promise for a better life.

at the very least, you'll have someone who tells you he loves you. someone who tells you that you're special and that you mean something. someone that partially fills the hole.

you just want to be somebody, and he'll gladly help you out. he might be a little bit too obsessive and protective, but you guess it's just part of him. he can't change something that makes him who he is, change isn't easy. you know that well.

and doesn't it feel nice to be wanted?

just trust him, everything will be fine. he'll teach you how to live, what love feels like. he'll protect you, take care of you...

"i love you, darling."

are those lies or the truth? you don't know, but you don't really care. would someone who wants someone as average as you ever lie about something like that anyway?

his affection burns with such a hot intensity that you're pretty sure could never be fake. you can see that, you're not blind. he very obviously adores you. that much you're sure.

so just give in already, would you? it would make things a whole lot easier if you stopped trying to resist and make sense of the world. sometimes... some things are just destined to happen. like how you see yourself as shit and he thinks you're perfect. that destiny also includes being with him. he won't accept anything else anyway.

don't worry, you'll be very happy. he's sure of that.

[finnothehimbo]

I work on a trauma unit. ICU is more intense care the stuff you don’t go straight home from. You get transferred to us when you’re more stable then we transfer you home, to rehab or to a long term care facility. We get all the severe cases that you will survive.

I’ve seen teen age girls get paralyzed while being driven to a highschool dance.

I’ve seen a healthy 35 year old slip going down three stairs from his porch to the sidewalk (as we all do how many times a day?). He tried to grab the rail and like some final destination shit that swinging C shaped motion of grabbing the rail and still hitting the ground cracked the back base of his head on step. Paralyzed from the neck down. He was on our unit do to caregiver neglect. He had pressure wounds to the point you could see bone.

I’ve seen a women get rag dolled by a car while pushing a stroller through the cross walk. Her baby was miraculously fine. But the rag doll pulled her legs in opposite directions paralyzed from the low back down.

I’ve been on safety watch for a man who knocked on his neighbors door and shot them both. He’d hung out with them dozens of times. They had zero reason to suspect it would happen. He simply had a mental break and told me “I don’t know what happened- one second I’m having papa John’s with my friends the next the cops are saying I hurt someone. I didn’t hurt anyone. I like x and y they’re my friends. they didn’t do anything wrong. But the cops were tasing me and I was bleeding everywhere”. Not even the person who shot his neighbors knew why his neighbors deserved it. It’s that they didn’t deserve it. There was no divine plan. There was no neglect. There was no signs. Something in his brain just snapped.

The thing is denial is one hell of a drug. It says no I’m the medical provider. No I’m not dumb like them. It would never happen to me. When all of these people were living life then things outside everyones control went wrong. If I can tell you anything it’s that One day we will all be disabled.

Statistics are not in your favor to be fully functional past 60. Most Americans live to 78. I’m terrified to be in a nursing home and you should be too. I’ve also worked in nursing homes. Staff will absolutely make you feel like a burden for asking for your burnt grilled cheese to be remade. Currently nearly all of us are all looking at cafeteria food at best. We’re looking at 17 years olds with no licensing taking care of us because they’re some of the few people in the work force who aren’t burnt out and willing to be underpaid for “experience”. We’re looking at care home staff declaring what your allowed to wear in your own home until you die.

Disability rights aren’t a *them* thing. There’s no way you can guarantee you won’t be disabled. Some of our most severe disabilities are progressive so you can stay in the safety of your own home exercising eating right and never talking to strangers and your own body can betray you. That’s a process we have to have therapists come in for on the trauma unit. Your body is supposed to protect you. Then one day it can’t. One day it’s outside of anyone’s control. We’re not gonna un-paralyze you. We’ll teach you how to live again yes. That won’t un paralyze you though.

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

Fine. One more night.

After Azul's overblot everyone was exhausted. When you finally stumbled out of Octavinelle's portal the sun has already set beneath the horizon.

Leona and the other Savanaclaw boys walked out of the portal behind you in similar states of exhaustion. Seeing them caused you to remember you had still had to grab your stuff from their dorm before heading off to Ramshackle. After that you would likely have to spend around 10 minutes trying to get the front door unlocked and open, check the old dorm to make sure it hadn't deteriorated to the point it would collapse on yours and Grim's heads as you slept, make sure nobody broke into the dorm in your time away (they'd have nothing to steal, but you've caught students more than once trying to vandalize the place), and then the ghosts would likely hound you with questions as to what had happened. You weren't going to get any sleep tonight.

You groaned and ran your hands over your tired face.

Leona noticed this action and looked at you suspiciously. "What now," he asked against his own best judgement. Whatever it was would probably cause trouble for him, but he asked before he could stop himself.

"I still have to grab our stuff from Savanaclaw before heading back to Ramshackle. And when we get there. . ." you sighed and rubbed your face again "so much to do. Not gonna get any sleep."

Without another word, you and Grim hobbled through Savanaclaw's mirror. Once the two of you were gone Jack and Ruggie both looked over towards Leona.

"What?" He tried to snap, but he was to tired to put any real bite in his words.

"Surely. . .one more night wouldn't hurt. . ." Jack mumbled.

"Could get 'em to cook breakfast again in the morning." Ruggie hummed. "They're a pretty killer cook."

Leona just stared at the two like they each had grown another head. "You're kiddin'. After the Ruckas they caused last night?"

"They were just trying to convince you to help! They'd have no reason to do that again tonight." Jack immediately piped up.

"It's not like ya had any troubly sleeping the other couple of nights they were here," Ruggie snickered. "If I didn't know any better, I'd even say ya slept better."

The two watch as Leona growl before walking to the Savanaclaw mirror with a huff.

In Leona's room, you'd just finished getting yours and Grims stuff packed up. Grim hadn't been much help, having fallen asleep on a plush chair the moment you stepped foot in the room.

You were about to wake him when a grumpy Leona came stomping through the door. Assuming he was angry at the two of you for still being there you began to apologize: "Sorry, Leona. I just finished packing out stuff and I was just about to wake Grim so we could-"

Before you could finish your sentence he cut you off "You're staying here tonight."

". . .wha-?"

"I said you're staying here tonight! It's dark out and you're already here, so you're staying here tonight. I don't need the two of you getting into trouble on your way home that becomes my problem in the morning," he grumbles.

"Why would any trouble we get in become your-"

"Do you wanna stay here tonight or not?" Leona's tone is harsh, but his posture is relaxed as always, and his face is just a hair softer than usual.

"Uhm. . .yeah. Thanks." You stumble a bit, shocked by his words, but eventually manage to respond. When you do he simply huffs and flops onto his bed.

You hurry to unfold the futon in the area next to Grim's chair so as to not make him keep the lights on any longer. After draping a blanket over the sleeping Grim, you toss the pillow and blanket you had been using the past few night onto the futon and crawl onto it.

Leona finally shuts off the lights (not that he was waiting for you or anything) and the room falls into darkness. The only light comes from the moon shining through the openings in the wall next to Leona's bed.

Several minutes pass in silence before Leona speaks: "Whatever you have to say just say it so I can get to sleep. I can't relax with you staring me down like that."

"It's. . .It's nothing."

You're about to close your eyes and pull the blanket over your head so you can wallow in your embarrassment when you hear a click. You slowly turn over to see the lamp next to Leona's bed has been turned on and he's staring at you with an expression that reads 'don't play with me right now."

You sigh and sit up. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me. I already told you my reasons for letting you stay here tonight." He grumbles, reaching to turn off the lamp again.

"No! I-I mean. . .for that too, but what I meant was: thank you for letting us stay here and for helping us with the overblot. I know you didn't have to, and I appreciate it. It may sound dramatic, but you really did risk your life to help us today. . .thank you."

The room falls into silence again before you hear Leona's laugh ring through the space. You look up in surprise.

"It almost sounds like I'm a good person when you put it like that."

Another moment of silence.

"You're not?"

He looks at you like you're crazy before clicking the light back off.

You both shuffle back into comfortable positions. You aren't sure if you were simply imagining things from exhaustion, but you could have sworn you heard a mumbled "Thanks to you too" from across the room before you drifted off to the land of dreams.

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[baronboar]

This time let's circle back to equity later and focus on some basics! What's up with TAILS?

Transcript under the cut:

1. First of all, why do the people in a setting even need tails? Humans don't have tails for a number of reasons, we don't chase prey so we don't need it to help us change direction like a rudder. We also don't climb trees so we don't need one for keeping hold of branches or for balance. But in a world of megafauna, maybe you need a tail to help you turn fast to flee? Or maybe a hunter needs a rudder to swim? But most importantly!! It's fun & helps your people feel unique!

[IMG: A an anthro rat and sea lion, the rat is leaning over in a similar fashion to the sea lion who naturally stands horizontally like a T-rex. This shows how they both can use tails as counter balance.]

Think about why species in a setting might have tails and perhaps you will think of something that adds depth to your world… For warmth, like a blanket! To increase visibility when foraging! For Combat!!!

[IMG Three tails, a big fluffy artic fox tail, a tall lemur tail, and a spiny draconic tail.]

2. Clothing is the main issue I see brought up when discussing tails & Furgonomics. many solutions can be found when looking at furry artwork, so look around! The only solution i'd say is not valid is…The belt under the tail.

[IMG: a tailed person from behind, their jeans are below the tail, you can see their butt cheeks.] [IMG: Two illustrations of human femurs with tails, the spine points them downwards.]

A tail would sit far too low to comfortably wear trousers there, imagine wearing yours below the pelvis at your hips? Even with a belt that is far too risqué! The best solutions all put the waistband above the tail and either have a hole for the tail or in the case of clothing like dresses and skirts allow the tail to sit freely beneath.

[IMG: Three different people with different garments. The first is labelled 'breech cloth', it's a Y shaped cut of fabric attached to the waist by a string. The second is labelled 'sarong', the feline figure from the side has a length of fabric around the belly with a length hanging down over their pubic area like a loin cloth. The third is the most like trousers/pants, the belt keeps shut a flap that goes over the base of the tail that overlaps with the tail hole.]

In my setting of Firnus different cultures have their own designs to fit environmental needs. The Gilter braghe is a sleeveless trouser designed with modesty in mind. compare this to the rav breechcloth, made for wearing under robes. Or avoid the tail hole all together and beat the heat with the pantheran quarter sarong!

3. So where else can tails be a problem…? CHAIRS.

[IMG: Two normal chairs, they have back rests but also gaps between that and the seat.]

most people are going to jump immediately to seats like these:

But i'm going to make my case as to why this would not be comfortable: See this dog skeleton to the right? When a quadrupedal animal sits, they don't rest on their upper legs or put any pressure on their fragile tails, Instead they rest on their hocks & hind feet! Why? Exactly as we discussed with trousers, tails wouldn't go out, they'd go down. As part of the spine, if you wanted to sit back in a chair your spine would be vertical.

[IMG: A dog skeleton from the side.] [IMG: A small concerned mustelid says: "Sitting on your tail would feel like bending your fingers backwards with your full body weight!"]

…So, I believe anthro species wouldn't want to put pressure on their tails by sitting on them… So we cut a hole out from the bottom and back of the chair, right? Yes! and no. Yes because when you're world building you can do whatever works best for you! But no because I'm not satisfied with this answer and I'm driving this PNG!!!! So how do we fix this? Let's see why chairs even exist in the first place!

[IMG: a chair like the ones above with a half circle cut from the back of the seat.]

4. The earliest (known) chairs come from the 2nd dynasty of Egypt during the Thinite period. These chairs were as short at the seat as 10 inches! …But like, Why? as a status symbol! These caught on as nobility wished to copy kings, and then the common people copied nobility. They're also useful to keep your clothes clean and prevent you from resting on cold or wet ground.

[IMG: Two desert foxes, one on a chair is joyfully sitting upon a chair, covered in gold adornments like a pharaoh. He says: 'I'm sitting higher! So I'm better than you!' The other fox looks concerned, wears no gold as she kneels and says: 'Hm.']

But we don't need kings!! If you want something for similar use without those connotations. Here's some options:

[IMG: Two people sitting on a bench and a large plush pillow as well as a rectangular cushion that's rolled up.]

Kneeling! While many cultures use this to show reverence, few still kneel for comfort.

Benches and stools! Before chairs became affordable for the average person simpler furnishings were commonly used. These don't have tricky tail holes to fumble around with and can be as simple as a plank.

cushions! A thick pillow or rolled rug would allow a person to sit cross-legged without their tail pressing down against a hard surface.

Think about who needs chairs, where they'd be used, and the answer will come naturally! Have fun world building!