#this opening leads down from what I'm seeing

[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.

[pinkyqily]

IT'S OKAY, WE'RE OKAY, WE ARE DEFINITELY NOT OKAY JUJU WATKINS x READER

Summary: After the losing game against Iowa, you and juju get into a nasty argument that leads to your teammates separating the both of you.

Warning: Angst Angst Angst, swearing, throwing shit around, bad juju and reader

Authors note: The match was something, so that is why we get angst for times like this, anyways happy reading feedback and requests are always appreciated 💕.

Tension within the team was high no one said a word as everyone entered inside the bus. All you wanted to do was sit down next to your girl and comfort each other, but that was a no brainer as she passed by and ignored you.

Her ignoring you kinda hurt but you weren't gonna push past it. You tried sending her texts only for her to swipe them each time, you saw her groan turning off her phone.

A pit was forming down your stomach but you ignored the feeling like a fool.

You knew the type of player juju was when things don't go the way they were supposed to. Right now with the loss she was definitely beating herself up over it. no one likes to lose, especially to a team that wears the ugliest shade of yellow.

Arriving at the hotel felt like you were about to step into a battle zone. Once again you tried getting juju's attention by grabbing her hands, but all she did was yank her hands away from yours like you were some insects coming to disturb her.

You tried one last time by tapping her shoulder until she finally snapped at you, raising her voice, something that she's never does always trying her best to be calm with you.

"Bro what the fuck do you want can you not get the hint that maybe I do not want to deal with your shit tonight". You heard her say which was shocking. Because she never had an outburst likes this not even infront of your teammates or others, so her doing this just made you feel like an attention seeker which made you embarrassed.

"First off, watch how you're talking to me because I do not curse at you whatsoever and all I was trying to do was comfort my teammate who thinks the whole world is on her shoulders when the team has a few bad games but it fuck me right?." You said to her.

a few of your teammates who hadn't head upstairs came to where you and juju trying to calm things down, but that only made things escalate.

"Wow this coming from the player that left the 3 pointer line all wide fucking open and probably cost us the game". The moments those words came out of juju mouth she insanely regretted them but it was to late because you already heard them.

"I'm so sorry that not everyone can be there own fucking Judea watkins that's oh so prefect". You threw back at her tears clearly streaming down your face

It was too late for juju to say anything as kiki and Ray came separating the both of you.

The looks from your coaches were equally heartbreaking because no one wants to witness their best players tearing each other to threads.

A wave of guilt filled juju as everything she said to you hit her like a brick stone she was obviously in her head and wasn't thinking at all but the damage was already done. She made you cry and hurt you're feelings what type of girlfriend and teammate was she?. Was all she wondered now.

You we're already walking off with kiki.

She tried saying something but was cut off by one of the coaches who told her not to.

"It not worth it juju just head back upstairs, we'll be having a serious talking about both of your behaviors ray please help juju up to her room". she heard coach say, heading back the other way with ray, head facing down has she pulled her hoodie strings ashamed of how she acted.

What she didn't see was the way you turned around, hoping for her to say something at all it could've been anything but she didn't.

Only leaving both of you to sleep with heavy hearts having a thin wall separating you once more, you guys were definitely not okay and no one was okay.

[pomefioredove]

AAAAAALLLL IIIII WAAAANNTTT FOR CHRISTMAAAAAASSSS IIIIIiisssss...

A sugar cookie #10 (help which boy is that idk) with whipped cream, sprinkles and chocolate drizzle please?

(I am SO HAPPY YOURE MAKING AN EVENT SERIOUSLY I love your blog!)

part I

order #10, sugar with whipped cream, sprinkles, chocolate drizzle

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ opening old wounds II

summary: ruggie's first love is leona's new fiance(e) tropes: royalty au, hurt/comfort, exes to lovers characters: ruggie additional info: romantic, gender neutral reader, reader is not yuu

"This isn't going to work,"

Leona rolls his eyes for the umpteenth time. "Since when are you so picky? It's not like you to reject free stuff,"

Ruggie crinkles his nose, looking down at the outfit Leona had "thrown together" for him. "Maybe to sell, but not for me... it's scratchy,"

"It's my old ceremonial robes, and it's what you're getting. Now shut your trap before you get us both in trouble,"

He sighs, dragging his feet behind Leona as he leads him through the darkened halls of the palace. The guards are quiet and imposing as ever, sharp eyes following the prince and his servant.

Ruggie is thankful when they finally make it outside, away from the prying eyes of the palace staff, but they're still the least of his worries.

"I don't like this,"

"Yeah, you've told me about a million times. But you and I aren't accomplishing anything if you keep whining,"

"Why do we have to accomplish anything, anyway! I like my job here!" Ruggie insists, his heart racing as they get closer to the gardens.

Leona gives him a wayward glance. "You really wanna be stuck here forever?"

He has nothing to say to that. Leona grunts and stops in front of a wall, covered in blooming flowers and vines. The night is mild, with a warm breeze, and the stars are out. It's the perfect time and place for a romantic rendezvous... unless you're Ruggie.

"Don't look so nervous. It's just a date. They're not gonna eat you,"

"That's not really what I'm worried about,"

Leona rolls his eyes (again) and gives Ruggie a boost over the wall. "See 'ya later. Don't screw this up,"

And then he's gone, and it's just the sky, the flowers, the soft sound of running water, Ruggie, and... you.

You look good.

Ruggie bites his lip at the thought. Why is this so hard?!

His grandma always told him that time heals, but how can he be sure of that? What if he's just tearing off the bandage and opening old wounds?

You were perfect. You were then, and you are now.

And he's... well, he's himself.

"It's you,"

Ruggie hadn't even noticed you, the way you noticed him. He'd been caught between memories (crushed between them, really).

Still, he forces himself to grin.

"Yeah. I hope you weren't expecting a prince or anything,"

You smile back. It's friendly, but cold. Enough to send a shiver through his body, anyway.

"Not really. I still recognize your handwriting, you know,"

Oh. Right. "Shishi... should have guessed,"

"You wanted to see me?"

That question, simple as it was, leaves him at a loss for words. Did he want to see you? He wasn't quite sure yet.

"...Uh, yeah. I thought you might wanna... talk,"

"About us,"

He nods. You were always good at that- reading him. Even when he didn't want to be read.

You take a seat on an ornately carved stone bench. It smells like Leona- damn it, that's why he picked this place for your date? Because he naps here?!

Ruggie sits on the grass.

"How have 'ya been? I mean- pretty good, huh? Marrying a prince and all that," he says, flicking a beetle off his shoulder. "Must be pretty exciting."

"I guess so..."

You sound kinda bummed out, he thinks. Damn curiosity...

"What's with the face? Isn't this what you always wanted?"

"I never said that,"

"You never had to,"

He crosses his arms and leans against the bench, looking anywhere but at you- the grass, the walls, the starry sky...

Ruggie didn't always believe in all that stuff about the old kings in the stars, but he did then. And he asks them, is there any way I'll get out of this with my dignity?

The silence holds until you speak again.

"It was nice,"

Ruggie smiles, if only a little. "It was, huh?"

Thoughts of hot summer mornings, when you were both younger, when Ruggie served at your palace instead of Leona's. Warmed by the sun and each other's company. His jokes, your laugh, both of your hopes and dreams becoming one.

"It was never gonna last, though,"

"You said that," you say, drawing your knees to your chest. "But how are you so sure?"

Ruggie shrugs. "Cause guys like me don't get people like you. Even if I stayed, you woulda been married off to some prince or duke or something, and I woulda been left in the dust, anyhow,"

"So that's why you left,"

He shrugs again. You furrow your brow and look at your lap, thinking, but not speaking. It goes on like this for some time.

"Don't worry," he's the first to speak. "Leona is real nice. He seems a little scary at first, but he's secretly a big softie."

You smile, again, if only a little.

"I don't want to marry the prince,"

What a thought. A million people would kill for your life, your position. To marry into a royal, stinking rich family. He almost giggles at the absurdity of it.

"And why's that?"

"Because I want you,"

Ruggie finally looks at you. Damn it. Damn your ability to read him, to know just what he's thinking.

"I still do," you say, hands in your lap. "I never stopped thinking that you'd come back, you know. When I saw you here, I..."

"Don't say that,"

You look back at him. He crosses his arms. "You can't say that to me. You're making me... you just... don't say those things,"

"But I-"

"Don't make me fall in love with you again," he says. "I'll get tossed aside no matter what. We both know that."

You stand, suddenly, and look down at him with your own arms crossed.

"Don't you dare say those things about me. I didn't ask to be born into this life as much as you didn't ask to be born into yours. I hate that you still think of me like that- like I'm some villain! Is it so hard to believe that I care about you? That you're not just some affair to me? I would call off the engagement with Leona right now. All you have to do is ask,"

Ruggie stares, wide-eyed, speechless again. There are many thoughts going through his head now, and though some are terribly corny, most are even even worse than that- they're hopeful.

"What will it take for you to trust me, Ruggie?"

He stands, slowly, meeting your gaze with his own.

"You'd really throw that all out for me?"

"Yes,"

You sound so... decisive. Affirmative. As if the answer is obvious.

Ruggie looks at his feet, if only to think, and you tilt his chin up with two fingers to bring his gaze back to the stars.

"Just say the word,"

[masterm1111]

27 minutes.

you left the apartment. drove to the restaurant to pick up the takeout order. entered your key into the door and found my husband panting in just a tank top on the bed.

you and nanami have known each other long enough to read each other's mind. if you take a nap after standing in the kitchen for more than two minutes after looking in the fridge or pantry, the smell of freshly cooked chicken breast, mashed potatoes, and green beans is hitting your nose for dinner. when you wash your and his cup before going to bed and see an empty bag of tea leaves in the trash, he's welcomed with three new ones the next day after a long day of work.

so best believe that whenever one of you feel needy, there's a telepathic signal given that the other understands.

as you watched your husband hump your pillow, you mentally hit rewind on your conversation before leaving,

*flashback*

"I'm gonna go get dinner," you said as you walked from the island to the front door. "The usual, right?"

He follows you to close it, "Yeah."

You reach over to grab both sets of car and house keys, only for him to grab your car keys right before you can and raise them above your head.

"Love, I really have to go before the food gets cold. Or what if someone pretends to be me and steals our food?"

A minute passes as he just stares at you with a slight smirk. Then you're hit with a kiss, multiple, starting from your cheek as he pecks to your lips.

"Mmwah," he smiles into the kiss. "Drive safe," as he lowers your keys.

"I'll be back soon."

*end flashback*

i can't have been gone for that long... how long has he been holding that in?

kento is generally a patient man. he's waited in line at your favorite bakery just to get a new flavor of cream puffs. he sat watching you try to solve a Rubik's cube for 45 minutes before you offered and he solved it in 45 seconds. "I had a lot of time in high school," he said.

he can also be a bit impatient. you've scolded him a few times for being too touchy-feely at a fundraising event.

"We're in public, Kento. What if someone was looking?"

He cranes his neck down to your ear, "But you look so fucking good in that dress, you have no. idea," as he bites your ear.

"NANAMINNN!"

both your ears perk up to that one distinct voice.

"hey, gorgeous. looking striking as ever."

"hello, satoru," you smiled. "loud as usual."

"always. nanamin, the bosses want to talk to you about this quarter's progress and your success with the super-rich but super-confidential client you took on."

he nods. "lead the way," and before your husband follows suit, he kisses your cheek and softly grabs your ass, and quietly jogs to catch up with gojo.

*present*

the door is cracked open allowing his grunts and moans to fill your shared space. you had placed the food on the counter and tiptoed to peek at nanami releasing his sexual energy.

"oh yeah, y-you like that? my f-fuc- oh shit- fucking cock against you?" you watched his hips slowly roll up against the pillow, pulling back just to go deeper over and over again.

your mind envisioned the latest time he fucked you, angling his cock just right to reach that spot. kento made sure you came a couple times before releasing his cum in you. on his face, around his fingers, against his cock while rubbing your clit. he's down to try just about anything in the bedroom (really any surface) that ensures he's keeping you satisfied.

"hah, this feels so fucking goooodd." as you watched his hips speed up, you could tell he was close. with your mouth slightly agape, you thought to let him finish and edge him later or ruin his orgasm now as payback for literally fucking up your pillow.

eh, why not both?

"fuck, fuck, f-fuc-"

knock-knock. "you couldn't have waited for me to get home?"

he looks for his shoulder to see you standing there, arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed, and your legs crossed.

"seems to me, you've been standing there long enough to join in." before you speak, he flips over for you to see his cock twitching with pre-cum sticking to his abs.

"yea well, food's been here for a minute and i want us to watch a movie together so let's go."

you turn around to head to the counter. you grab the takeout containers out of the bag and lay them out when warm arms hug your waist as you feel his hard-on press into you from behind.

"you think we can finish this- *press* later," he whispers into your neck.

you laugh, "what is going on with you today?"

he walks around the island to grab you both napkins, "what? i can't be horny for my extremely beautiful, gorgeous, amazing, loving wife?"

"by the way, you owe me a new pillowcase."

"yes or no?"

you both stare at each other. you roll your eyes and sigh, "fiinnnee. but, i plan for it to be more fun for me than you."

"what other way would i want it?"

you smile. "okay, let's eat first because i'm starving."

"me too." he taps your ass as you both walk to the couch, savoring this moment of peace before riding into a semi-torturous night.

[trevorsgodmother]

𝓞𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓱𝓸𝓷𝓮… (M.S 🌪)

"Wish you were here right now All of the things i'd do" ☞ Masterlist

Warnings: Smutty smut, CYBER SEX, fingering, jerking off, swearing, pet names, getting caught (?), mentions of spicy pics teehee POV: First person (Matt and reader) Summary: You missed Matt too much, and get an idea...

(Your POV)

I'm currently sitting on my bed, bored out of my mind. My roommate was out for the day, and all my other friends were working. The only other person I could think of bothering was Matt, but he lived 3 hours away. It was annoying, the long distance, but we made it work. I wonder if he would be busy.

Then, I get an idea.

(Matt's POV)

I doom scroll through my phone, unwinding after the long, busy day me and my brothers had. They'd retreated to their own rooms, leaving my floor completely quiet, which was rare.

I was debating on calling my girlfriend, but didn't want to seem needy or overwhelming because we'd called earlier today.

A ping alerts me of a notification. I smile as I see the contact name. My girlfriend. That solved my problem. I click on the notification from SnapChat, leading to a snap. That was a bit weird, usually she just sent photos through messages. Unless...

I click the red square to open it. And my mouth goes dry. It's a mirror selfie of her sitting on her bed, in a blue lingerie set I'd bought her last month for our anniversary.

Holy fuck-

I feel a stirring in my pants, biting my lip as I screenshot the picture and save it to my hidden folder. Great. Now I'm rock hard.

(Your POV)

I giggle as I accept the call, my voice innocent. "Hi Matt. I missed you." I hear a sigh of exasperation from the other line. "You know I could've been around my brothers. Where was the warning??" I smirk at his breathlessness, knowing what's going on with him 'down there'. Even though he can't see me, I twirl my hair, putting on a slightly seductive tone. "Something tells me you wouldn't have minded." His breath hitches as he murmurs. "You're insane. And stop being all cocky"

The rustling of fabric makes a grin spread across my lips. "Whatcha doing then, Matt?" "You know exactly what I'm doing" His rough voice catches me off guard, and my dark blue panties are instantly soaked.

I swallow, shifting down a bit to get comfortable. My free hand trails down my body as I hear him start to grunt. “Matt-“ My voice is whiny, already full of need. I rub over my underwear first, letting myself get wetter.

But I can't hold back.

Every groan from him makes it harder to resist giving into my arousal, and so, as soon as my hand dips under my waistband, I'm in heaven. My fingers skillfully slide up and down my slick heat, gathering my wetness on my fingers. Every stroke makes me bite my lip harder, probably leaving a deep indent. I tease myself a little, then push my fingers in, gasping loudly at the penetration.

One hand is holding the phone to my ear, listening to my boyfriend pleasure himself, while the other is helping me get off to the sound of him.

My fingers moving in and out at a fastening pace causes high-pitched sounds to leave my lips, forgetting about my neighbours for a second. Not that I cared, it felt way too good.

(Matt's POV) (god grant me the strength)

As soon as my hand wrapped around my erection, I let out a deep sigh of relief. That picture had affected me wayyy more than it should've. Then again, I had carefully chosen that set to highlight her best features.

And it definitely did.

Her breath hitching on the other end as she heard me start pumping gave me a boost of confidence (guys i lowk dk how to write jerking off but oh well).

My calloused fingers felt heavenly against my hard cock, each motion making small whimpers escape my lips. I steadily spread my precum down my shaft while satisfying myself. "You don't know how good it is to hear your voice darling-" I rasp out. My eyes are half-lidded as I imagine her hand on me instead, her acrylics sparkling in the low lighting.

My stroking grows more erratic as I hear squelching from the other end.

The combination of her moans while she touched herself plus the sounds of her fingers working were sending me to the edge fast.

My hand quickens, hips jerking up in time to meet my movements. "Fuuckkk, baby- 'm so close-" I groan, eyes fluttering.

She whines softly, and I can tell she is too. "Fuck- Matt-" My stomach tightens, and my dick twitches as she says my name.

"Do- do that again baby-" She moans my name again, and I gasp as I tighten my hold and cum. I let out a guttural groan as hot ropes land on my hand and stomach, my eyes scrunched shut in pleasure.

(Your POV)

As soon as I hear him finish, my body tingles and the band in my tummy snaps. I cry out as I coat my fingers, slowing down my pace to ride out the orgasm.

Inhaling and exhaling slowly, I wipe my fingers onto my bed sheets.

We stay quiet for a second, before Matt murmurs out. "You ok baby?"

I sigh and nod, then realise he can't see me. "Yes. That was..." "Incredible" He finishes. I pull my blanket up over me, snuggling into the comfort of my bed. "So, about that picture..." I tease. He groans softly. "Fuck, don't even remind me of that." "Why, you gonna get hard again?"

Matt scoffs (ominous music plays as the characters fade into the distance). "I mean, can you blame me baby? You looked absolutely delicious in that set."

My cheeks flush, the words adding to my post-orgasmic bliss and almost making me speechless. "Shut- shut up Matt"

I hear him chuckle, but my ringtone interrupts our moment. I pull the screen away to see who it is, and my brow furrows. "Hang on, someone's calling me." "Who is it?" He asks curiously.

"It's... Nick?" I hear his tone shift as he grunts, annoyed. "What the shit does he want? It's almost 8 in the evening!" "I don't know. I'll call you back, ok?" He sighs, grunts again in acceptance, and cuts our call.

(Matt's POV)

I wait for what seems like forever, immediately back to my doom scrolling. I'm silently cursing my brother for cutting our phone call short, since I was already getting aroused again just thinking of her in that set-

My phone buzzes.

I pick up as fast as possible. "Hello? Babe?" All I hear is laughing and slight choking. "Um...are you ok?" She just keeps going, her breathing getting slightly strained. Finally, her giggles have died down enough to say; "Nick- asked me if- I was over." I'm confused. "Wait, why?"

What she says next mortifies me, making me freeze to my core. My girlfriend, however, could not give less of a fuck that I'd never live this down with my brothers.

"He heard you moaning my name-"

A/N: First smut fic about my boy Matty B <3 (I feel so awkward writing smut bro) DONOT STEAL MUAHAHAH (🎀) Taglist: @hearts4werka @stvrnzcherries @spaghetti835928383 @pvssychicken @snowysosturn @sllutty-sturniolo @sturnmeovr Dividers by @bernardsbendystraws and @issysh3ll -Ropitipop 👁👅👁

[jillsandwhichs]

My captain

Chapter 13 to RE Characters x Reader smutshot collection

Masterlist

Pairing: F!Reader x Chris Redfield (RE6 Version)

Summary: You stay late at work one night due to having overtime. While you're hard at work, Chris has you come into his office for an opinion on something. One thing leads to another, and he's fucking you on his desk

Status of your guy's relationship in this one shot: Friends/Co-Workers/Hookup

WC: 3.4k

Type: NSFW

Warnings: Making Out, Dirty talk, Hickies, Clit rubbing, Unprotected P in V, Rough sex, Office sex, Semi public sex, Choking, Pulling out, Slight aftercare

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

You clacked the papers against the desk as you straightened them out and set them to the side. You swear that is the most you've done in a day. Absolutely spent is what you are. Sadly though, you can't leave yet. Overtime is a bitch but the BSAA isn't unfamiliar with making it's employees stay later than they should have to. At the end of the day though, you hardly mind. More pay is all that matters to you.

Picking up your iced coffee, you sipped it and set it back down before glancing around the office. Empty. The only people still here are you, a few other agents spread around HQ and your captain, Chris Redfield. It's not surprising he's still here, he tends to stay late even when it isn't needed. He's in his primary office currently, it's just feet away from where you are sitting right now. It makes you feel safer, you'll admit that much.

Standing up, you grabbed the stack of papers and held them close to your chest, ready to take them down to the directors room. It is a rather tedious task. It's two flights of stairs away and half of the time, he's not even here so then you end up having to turn them in the copy room. It's very... Agitating.

As you went to leave the room, the sound of the office door to your right opening up was heard. You gandered over and gave Chris a kind smile, not expecting him to suddenly appear. "Oh, hey you." He smirked, walking over to you and looking you up and down in a friendly manner. "Hey Cap, what are you up to?" "Was about to stop by the break room to grab a coffee. You?" "Taking these to McCarthy." "Ah," he nodded, his hands in his pockets.

"Well," he glanced towards the double doors then back at you. "I can take those for you, if you'd like. I'm heading that way anyways." "Oh," you can't say no to such a kind offer. You carefully passed him the weight of papers with a faint look of gratitude on your face. "I'd seriously appreciate that. Thank you." You didn't expect him to offer such a thing. "Of course, anything for you." He winked before trailing out of the room and to his intended place.

You sighed deeply before murming to yourself and heading back to your desk. You sat down and opened up your laptop. Now all you have to do is finish your report for the last mission you went on with Chris and your shared squad. You all went to Alaska and it was a rather eventful mission, to say the least. You're glad you're all back and safe though, that is all that matters.

Opening up a doc, you began to continue typing everything up. Tonight will be a long one. The second you get home, you're hitting the hay.

Amidst of you typing on your laptop, the sound of the door opening was heard once again. You turned your head and saw Chris entering the room. "Was he able to take my papers?" "Yep, he said thanks." "Good." You gave your captain a nod before glancing back down at your laptop and typing. You just want to get this report done as soon as possible. Takeout and sleeping sounds so good right now but with how weary you're beginning to feel, you bet you'll pass out in your bed once you're home.

Chris stood there, arms crossed and eyes on you. You didn't quite know why. You looked over at him and let out an awkward chuckle. "Do you need anything?" You asked. "Nah, no." He shook his head and looked down, trying to compose himself. "Need your opinion on something though, if I can snag you for a moment or two." Just great. Just when you though you'd actually be done quicker than you thought.

You let out a loud sigh, making it clear you didn't want to but you plan to anyway. "Sure thing." You forced a slight smile and stood up, closing your doc and standing beside him. "Lead the way." You pushed your hand out. He silently huffed out a laugh before having the two of you go into his primary office.

You've been in here a few times. It's kind of small. Wooden panel walls, black carpeting, a polished desk with a black desk chair. Not to mention the countless trophies and plagues around the room and the semi-dead sat plant in the corner as well. The lighting is dim but he has a desk lamp that he primarily uses. You wonder what it is he has to show you.

"So... What's up?" You said softly, crossing your arms and facing him. "This." He pulled out a sheet. "An outline of our upcoming mission. How do you feel about it?" You took the clipboard from his hand and analyzed what was on it. It seems rather regular to you, nothing out of the ordinary. "I like it." You smiled. "Glad I'll be with you the whole time, Lord knows Jensen will talk my ear off if I'm paired with him again." You laughed.

Chris nodded and took the clipboard from you. "Glad you like it. Ever since I started making these instead of others, they've been better, don't you think?" "Yeah, for sure." You nodded and looked around his office. He's not wrong. The missions have been going much more smoothly as of late and it's all because of him. Chris is a good captain, you have to give him that.

"Anywho though, thanks." He smirked and put the clipboard back into the drawer of his desk. "Of course." "And for your help," he paused for a moment and grabbed a coffee that was on his desk. You noticed he had two when coming back into the room but you didn't think it was for you, you just assumed he's an advant coffee drinker. "Oh, thank you! How thoughtful."

Right as you went to grab the paper cup from his hands, some of it splashed onto your shirt. The white lid wasn't on all the way. It stained your white BSAA merch shirt. You gasped and stepped away, watching as the brown, creamy liquid seeped into your chest area and dribbled as it went down. "Shit." Chris said in a disappointed tone. He turned around with haste and looked for a rag until he instead settled on thin tissues.

"I am so sorry." He murmured, dabbing your shirt awkwardly. You watched Chris as he cleaned your shirt off frantically. The sight was rather cute actually. You don't really care about a random work shirt, you have tons. You giggled as he continued and he looked up at you with a puzzled look. "Sorry, sorry..." You chortled, blushing at this point from your laughter. "You're just funny." You shook your head before snorting. Chris smirked and wiped your shirt off a little bit more. "You have a cute laugh." He commented, tossing the tissues in the trash.

You looked down at your shirt. Well, unfortunately, the stain is still there but at least your shirt is dry. Though, you can practically see your bra and cleavage through it, so that is a bit awkward. Then it clicked in your head what Chris had said. "You think so?" "Mhm." He leaned against his desk and gazed at you, his eyes dark and full with an emotion you don't recall ever seeing displayed within them. "Sorry," he huffed out a laugh, "I'm a bit forward, huh?" "It's no problem!" You smiled and uncrossed your arms. "Really, it isn't." You reassured him.

"Good," he then took a step closer to you, "because I think you're fucking hot." That sent literal shivers down your spine. Your back hit the door when he was closer to you and you giggled. "You do?" Now this isn't very professional of him but really, do you mind? Not necessarily. He mentally slapped himself in the face before blowing out a sigh. "Fuck, sorry." He stepped away but you grabbed his shoulder. "Chris, I mean," you shook your head, "Captain... I think you're... You know... As well..." You are stuttering and stumbling. How embarrassing.

Physically, Chris blushed though it wasn't visible. He wasn't lying. He finds you to be a rather attractive woman and you are. He just doesn't know what's gotten into him. Maybe the built up tension between you two is at its point of release and well, there has always been something going on between the two of you - anyone could've called that.

He stared into your eyes momentarily before whispering "Fuck it." And pressing his larger body up against yours and smashing his lips to your lips. You gasped and kissed him back, no hesitation occurring. You encased your arms around his neck as his lips roughly & passionately coursed over yours. Ten minutes ago, you were working on paperwork and now, you're literally swapping salvia with your fucking Captain. You are dirty.

As the two of you made out, you slightly moaned and Chris took that as an opportunity to slide his tounge into your mouth. It was wet and his mouth was warm. It's been awhile since something like this has happened to you and you're glad your celibacy is being broken by Chris. He's sexy and you can already tell, just by this, that he's going to absolutely rock your world.

Your guy's tongues moved rapidly together. His hands are all over you, one moment they rest upon your waist then the next he's cupping your flushed cheeks. You can't help but tangle your fingers in his deep brown hair, tugging and yanking on it.

This is truly not what you expected for this evening.

"Wait, wait, woah, woah, woah... We shouldn't." You lightly pushed him off of you as you ran your fingers through your hair. "You're right." Chris stated. You turned to face him. "But that doesn't mean I won't." You then kissed him again and this time, he walked with you until you hit your bum against his desk. He lifted you onto it, never breaking the sloppy kiss whilst doing so.

This is dangerous. It is so thrilling. It's fun. The fear of being caught is honestly just enticing. The fact that you may or may not be about to be fucked by your captain in his office is crazy to you. You broke from the kiss for a moment and smiled. "Captain..." "Call me Chris." He said with his forehead pressed against yours. "I want you." You said softly yet seductively. He smirked. "Oh yeah? How do you want me?" Oh, so he knows how to talk dirty. Perfect.

You cutely giggled and nibbled on your lower lip. "I want," your hands then went to his secure leather belt, tugging on it whilst you gazed into those sexy orbs. "To be fucked by you, right here, right now." You laughed and tilted your head to the side. He let out a breathless laugh and politely kissed your cheek. "You sure about that? I don't play nicely." He whispered in your ear. "Oh, I am very sure." You smiled before kissing him once again.

Chris let out a dark laugh before he ripped his belt off, allowing his jeans to fall to his ankles. You held onto his hips gently as he helped you lift your bum up, giving him the chance to take your jeans off. He took them off of your ankles and smiled. "You are just..." He looked you up and down. "Beautiful." It made you happy to hear that. You didn't think Chris thought of you this way.

You are wearing a matching set of a bra and panties. They are a deep shade of crimson red and the panties even have a cute dark purple bow on them. "Cute." Chris snorted before kissing you again. His lips trailed from your lips to your cheek, then to your neck where he then began to leave hickies all over it. All you could do was sit there and take it. You moaned, loudly. He knows what he's doing.

While he left hickies and love bites on your neck that'll surely catch the attention of some co-workers tomorrow, you could feel yourself damp against the line of your panties. You are yearning for him. Unfortunately, you are ovulating therefore you're a literal animal but hey, it's the way of womanly hood. You bit your lower lip as you felt him leave one final hickie onto your neck, the one that'll definitely be the most visible.

Chris pulled away with a devilish smirk. "You are so sexy... I've always thought that, you know?" He kissed you again and set one hand on your inner thigh, squeezing it and slapping it slightly before he then stuck part of his hand into your panties, making your breath shutter. "Oh?" You laughed out breathlessly, trying to remain calm. "Mhm, that's right." He kissed you again as his fingers began to play in your folds.

You let out a breath that you swear you've been holding this entire time. Your head tilted back as he played with your pussy so delicately. You bit your lower lip and whispered: "Chris... Fuck." You panted out. His fingers skillfully moved around your nub. The pressure in which he did it was perfect. You moaned in a needy way as he rubbed it faster, making you more and more wet. Fuck, he seriously knows what he's doing.

"Does that feel good?" Chris said softly against your ear before he nibbled on it. You nodded. "So good." You confirmed. It does. One finger swiftly moved along between your folds whilst his other one caressed her clit. "Mmm, good. You're so wet." He kissed your lips softly, pushed your head back a bit. "I am." You nodded. "Just for you." You giggled against his lips and you felt a dark smirk form on his face.

He pulled away for a moment before dropping his pair of underwear down to his ankles. Your mouth dropped as you saw his hardened cock in form before you. He's bigger than you expected. You looked up at him and smiled brightly, letting him know you are beyond ready for him. "Here." You lifted your hips up off of the desk, allowing him to pull your panties down, which he did. As he did, he laughed out as he looked at your pussy. "God, I need you-now."

You got yourself into a more comfortable position before he then set his hand on the desk, his other grabbing a hold of his member. "You ready princess?" "Mhm." You mumbled before kissing his cheek gently. This was it.

Chris then put his length deep within you. As he pushed himself in, all you could do was take in. You breathed in sharply and had your arms wrapped around his neck as he did, mainly for support. "You're so damn tight." He groaned into your ear as he settled into you. "So warm." You blushed as he spoke that way to you. It's turning you on way more. Fuck. You can't believe you're doing this with your very own boss.

He began to move into you. His thrusts were slow but deep. He made sure to be careful with you. "Does it feel nice?" Chris asked you softly. "Yes, it does... So nice..." You smiled as he fucked you with a pace that was perfect for you. Though, you wouldn't mind him being a bit rougher.

You placed your arms behind your back as he began to pick up the pace. Chris was still gentle, but you figure that won't last long. "God, I've thought of this so many times." He admitted. He has? That's took you by surprise. You leaned your head back and moaned loudly, the pleasure is impeccable. He drove his head into your neck and suckled on it, just as he had been earlier. That plus the fact he's fucking you was insanely sexy and made you feel so damn good.

"Fuck," Chris panted out as his movements began to pick up. He moved away from your neck and instead grasped it with his free hand, the other on the desk. "Look at me." He grunted, his thrusts now rough, making you dance internally. You looked at him dead in the eyes as he choked you. He did it firmly, and you thrived off of that. "Shit, harder, please." You whined out, never breaking the eye contact the two of you were sharing.

Before you knew it, your very own captain was pounding into you. The desk was shaking beneath you even. All you could do was sit there and take it because well, there was no getting out of this (Not that you wanted to). "Fuck, you like that? Rough?" "Uh-huh!" You moaned out, biting your lower lip and being a ragdoll as his disposable. "Good girl." He then let go of your neck and instead pressed his lips to yours, kissing you so passionately as he roughly moved into you.

Deep inside of you, you could feel it. That all too familiar feeling of ultimate pleasure. Admittedly, it's been a bit since you've felt it and it's none other than Chris bringing you to it. Your sense of reality slowly slipped out of your head as his relentless thrusts into you only kept up at the same roughness & hardness as they've been consistently going at. He noticed this. He smirked. "Gonna cum for me? Right on my desk?" He asked you in a low, sensual voice." All you could do was nod. Yes.

Just like that, you came. Your walls tightened around his length and he grunted before quickly pulling out and releasing on your lower stop... On your shirt... You didn't care though, at least not in the moment. How could you? You just got fucked absolutely senseless on your captains desk. All you did was smile and hold onto him for dear life as your orgasm slipped out of you gracefully.

Chris stepped away and admired you before picked up your pants and handing them to you. "Fucking hell." He laughed. "Fucking hell is right." You giggled in response as you put your underwear back on fully, then your jeans. He did the same except he didn't even bother with his belt. You stood up but almost fell over; Your legs felt like jelly. Chris snickered and grabbed your hips before looking down at you with a look of pride.

"You're proud of yourself, hm?" You smirked at him. "Very." He leaned down and kissed you softly, using one of his hands to cup your cheek. You melted. You didn't expect for him to act this way after the fact. Chris pulled away and kept his hand on your soft cheek. "I'll let you get back to work but uh," He caressed your cheek as he paused, "Come back to my office tomorrow, I'll buy us lunch." He kissed your forehead.

Now he's buying lunch for you two? Maybe he's a romantic.

Nodding, you let go of him and turned around. "Think you can walk?" He was being such a cocky asshat. You snorted and flipped him off playfully. "I'll manage." He winked at you and that was that.

[overflowingteacupoflove]

Tid-bits ✎ this series includes mature content such as sensitive topics,substance abuse, sex, angst, and more. Read with that in mind.

Chapter 1 ✎ Pool House.

"You're just too much." Is the last thing your ex-boyfriend said before you're off, stumbling through the crowds of party goers, Sorority girls in short dresses, frat guys in snapbacks, random kids in bright clothes that hurt your eyes. The entire crowd smells like sweat and achohol, concoctions mixed in red solo cups, sloshing liquid out onto the grass. The smell of it burns your nose. You stumble into someone and their drink spills on the front of your dress, whatever it's old anyway and you don't even like dresses so you shouldn't really care.

"You're just too much." Is the only thing that plays in your head when you smack into the door of a small shed. When you open it you're hit with the scent of chlorine, mildew, and plastic. You tiptoe through the shed, through buckets filled with pool toys, towels that stink of mildew, and pool noodles thrown about on the floor. Almost slamming your head into the wall stepping on a pool noodle, the styrofoam of the neon green floating help, crunching and sliding out from under your sneakered feet, you gasp as you steady yourself.

"Fuck." You groan, sitting down on a threadbare couch. Tears are slipping down your face, slow and then faster until you can't stop them or wipe them away. Gosh you swear to yourself that you're never going to date again. "Too much? I'm not too much." You grumble to yourself. The sound of music is blasting "Bourgeoisieses" by Conan Gray playing from the cheap speakers you're sure some frat brother got from the Walmart 3 years ago because its mostly staticy. It drowns out your words.

The music gets louder and a flood of light comes in from the door as someone shoulders it open and in comes a fratboy, red snapback on his head and an oversized red and gray jersey looking shirt on his torso. He looks seriously confused when he turns around to see you, teary-eyed, snot dripping down your face, harsh breathes forcing through your lungs.

"Oh-shit I didnt know that someone- that you- I didnt know anyone was in here. I thought it was a bathroom" He says gently, like you're a wounded animal who you need to be gentle with or they'll lunge.

"I-I-Its's fi-fine." You stutter through sobs and gasps, wiping at your face with your hands. They get sticky from the snot and tears drying on your palm in the creases as you fist up your hand. The boy looks concerned, his eyebrows drawn together and a soft frown on his lips.

"You okay? You don't...I mean I don't mean to sound rude but you don't look okay." He says rather gently as he's tiptoeing around the clutter on the floor to get to you. He reaches you and barely puts his hand on your shoulder before you're hunched over and throwing up, all over his airforces. "Oh, okay. Okay, yep- uh-huh, let it all out." He grimaces, patting the back of your head as you sputter and cough, spitting off to the side. "I think its time to go back to your dorm, yeah? No more drinks, party girl."

"Did I throw up on y'shoes? m'sorry, dude. I'll- uhhh- buy ya new ones." You slur sitting up and wiping the back off your mouth with your sleeve. "Also I think I jus' pissed myself. Jus' a lil bit."

"Yeah well that's what happens when you throw up. Vomiting creates sudden stress on the opening of the bladder, leading to leakage." He explains while hauling you up to your feet and hooking an arm around your waist.

"Nerd." You huff as you lean on him, head on his shoulder. "Doctor in training." He corrects as he walks, and you stumble along beside him, out of the Pool House.

"But you're a fratboy?"

"That I am." He nods, stopping to mumble something to a friend of his before continuing to walk, practically dragging you now. "That sounds illegal." That makes him laugh and you smile at the small victory. "It's not, party girl. Trust me."

You walk in silence for a while until he reaches his car and helps you into the front seat, buckling you up, and making sure you don't fall over, before closing the door and getting into the driver's seat. "Did you see me crying?" "Which dorm do you live in?" Your words overlap eachother and there's a bit of an awkward silence as you tell him which dorm house you live in and wait for the response to your question.

"Yeah, I did. What was it about?" You flush in embarrassment because this random doctor in training, fratboy, Jeep driver has seen you cry, throw up, and maybe pee yourself a little all in one night and you don't even know his name. "I don't wanna talk about it." You mumble, rubbing the tip of your nose with the knuckle of your finger.

"That's fine. I'm Chris by the way." Chris smiles at you before turning his gaze back to his phone to pull up the GPS and then start the car. "Y/N."

"Cool name, party girl." You smile softly, "Thanks."

You're back at your dorm, the car ride was mostly silent, random music playing low on the radio. You felt to awkward to try and say anything so you didn't, sitting with your hands wrung together or tugging at a loose string on your dress. Chris got you out of the car with some difficulty because your dress got caught on the arm rest of the seat and you tried to fix it yourself but only got yourself more tangled up. He had to hook an arm around your shoulder to hold you still while he fixed it Chris got it unhooked with a simple "See?" as he pulled it off the arm rest.

"We should take the stairs, it's way faster." You explain as you walk without Chris and only with minor difficulty because you're rather sobered up from the activities of the night. He shakes his head but follows anyway only to watch you take one step up the stairs and fall flat on your face. He winces and hauls you back up,checking for any injuries of anything, and then drags you to go take the elevator.

Once in your room he helps take off your shoes and get you into bed. "Hey, wait, wait. I needa get your number so I can buy you those shoes." You protest, grabbing Chris's arm, as he turns around. He turns back around with his brows furrowed and a frown gracing his lips. "You dont need to, I have more shoes." He reassures and pats your hand.

"Just give me your number, doctor fratboy." You sigh and reach around for your phone in the bag that's been thrown on the bed. He huff out a laugh at the nickname and types his number into your phone before handing it back to you. Chris watches as you giggle and type something, before closing your phone and letting go of his arm.

"Okay well text me in the morning, just a check up y'know. I'l talk to you later, party girl." You nod at his words before rolling over onto your side and closing your eyes. Chris, rubs your shoulder before he's reaching into his pocket and pulling out a granola bar, he's always prepared, and maybe he wanted a little snack, but he thinks you're going to need the snack more than he does.

He pulls the covers up over you and goes to the bathroom to place a trashcan by your bed, just incase. Then he leaves, turning off all the lights, except for the lamp by your bed, and closes the door behind him.

Lo's post-writing clarity-wagging my tail rn

[pinkofatom]

Agent Agency

CW: mind control, brainwashing, unaware, dronification, femsub, femdom

This is an indirect continuation of this story

Agent Valerie Smith scanned the documents with sharp eyes. Over the last months a strange things occurred. Multiple offices and enterprises changed their portfolio to selling escort services and practically pornography. Private citizens started to behave overly sexual, or acted more like automatons than people. One of those cases was detailed in the report she currently read.

Lydia Maxwell had been an ordinary, if beautiful, wife. But one day she simply left her husband. The only thing she mentioned was that her work for HEXBIM demanded all her time and effort.

HEXBIM, Valerie mused, the one connecting subject. Every time something strange occurred it somehow revolved around this corporation. One that could not be contacted or found anywhere. Many Agents had tried — only to be recruited by this ghostly entity.

The door to her office swung open, and her boss, the Chief of their special agency, stood in the doorway.

"Smith," the grizzled veteran of countless cases grumbled, "we've a new lead."

The man's eyes had dark shadows beneath them. Valerie could see how the whole case affected him. They had been on the case for the last month and still they found no solid evidence. Only crumps of traces. Not enough to build any kind of legal case against this elusive enemy.

"Yes?" she asked and rose to her feet. Her long, raven hair cascaded over the back of her leather office chair and fell in gentle waves over her shoulders. The woman's almond-shaped hazel eyes were sharp and alert. She was a seasoned detective and she knew that any new lead was worth pursuing, no matter how small it might seem.

"Yes. Somekind of escaped employee just got into contact with us," he said, and handed her a slip of paper with the address of a meeting place.

Valerie's eyes scanned the information. It was an address for a small apartment on the outskirts of the city. Her heart beat a little faster as she thought about what might be waiting there. A former employee of HEXBIM was willing to talk.

"I'm on my way, boss," Valerie replied with determination in her voice. "This could be the break we need." Her eyes softened. "And, boss, get some rest," she said, her tone filled with genuine concern. "We need you healthy and focused for this case."

He nodded. The man sighed softly. "I'll try. It just — I feel the responsibility to solve it."

She nodded. Valerie understood the feeling — she had the same drive and commitment to her job. "We'll get it, boss." With those words, Valerie grabbed her jacket from the back of her chair, slung it on and made her way to the parking garage.

The car engine roared to life as she started her sleek, black SUV and pulled out onto the street. She navigated through the bustling streets of the city, weaving in and out of the traffic with practiced ease.

The apartment building was an older, run-down complex on the outskirts of the city. The building's facade was covered in peeling paint, and the windows were dirty and cracked. She parked her SUV in an alleyway nearby, not wanting to draw too much attention to herself.

The apartment's lobby was dimly lit, the walls covered in a layer of grime and the floor sticky with years of accumulated filth. The air stirred in an unwelcoming atmosphere. Valerie made her way up the creaking staircase to the third floor where the former employee was waiting for her. The apartment was at the end of a long hallway lined with faded and peeling wallpaper.

The woman hesitated in front of the door for a moment. Her training told her to be cautious. There was always a chance this was a trap, or that the former employee had been coerced into luring her there. She took a deep calming breath. With a decisive move she knocked firmly on the door. Three quick, loud raps that echoed through the silent corridor.

For a moment, she thought no one would answer, and she considered knocking again, but then the door slowly opened with a loud creaking noise.

The first thing Valerie noticed about the woman standing in front of her was the striking blue eyes, so pale they were almost colorless. Next was the HEXBIM logo swirling on glossy black latex. It covered a body that would be the envy of most women. Tall, curvaceous and beautiful in an artificial way.

Valerie took in the woman's appearance with a trained eye. The way she held herself was almost regal, with a straight back and a confident posture. Suspicion gnawed at Valerie's mind.

The woman's eyes focused like a hawks on Valerie. "Welcome, Miss Smith." Her tone sounded like a sultry harp — an enticing mix of forbidden pleasure and pure intentions. "I'm sorry that we have to meet here. But HEXBIM's digital surveillance is near all encompassing."

The agent stepped inside, closing the door behind her with a click that seemed to echo in the quiet room. The interior was just as run down as the outside of the building, with cracked paint on the walls, threadbare carpets and furniture that had seen better days.

"So you know my name. Who are you?" she asked as her gaze darted around, looking for any signs of danger or deception.

"I'm Maria Nonette. Thank you, for your prompt response." The woman's voice held a hint of an accent. European — maybe. It was hard for the Agent to tell, the words spoken had an odd lilt to them. Valerie felt a shiver of — something travel down her spine. Something was not quite right, here.

"I'm willing to talk to you. But you have to understand my fear of this — corporation," she said. Her tone was firm but her body language was tense and guarded.

"I understand, Miss Nonette." Valerie replied cautiously as she took out her notebook and pen. "Any information you have about HEXBIM will be useful."

Tension fell from the woman's shoulders. "Thank you." Her voice was filled with relief and her whole posture changed, as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. "You have to understand, how hard it is to fight the programming." Miss Nonette began to pace back and forth, wringing her hands as she did. Her voice trembled with emotion. That lilt became stronger — something Valerie just had to listen to. "You see, all these personality changes and overly sexual behaviors stem from HEXBIM's extraordinary brainwashing technology," the woman said as she continued to pace. "The moment anyone enters their employment, they are subjected to a process that reshapes them from the inside out." Valerie's pen scratched over the paper, taking down every word. Miss Nonette continued. "Their minds become nothing more than a malleable mass of neurons, waiting to be programmed to fit whatever role or behavior their corporate overlords deem fit." Each syllable Valerie engraved upon the paper — into her mind. Every letter seemed to have an unusual quality, like a whisper from the abyss. The Agent could not stop — did not want to stop. Miss Nonette's voice filled her head with its exotic beauty and alien quality.

Valerie watched as Miss Nonette paced, her voice rising and falling with emotion as she continued her story. The Agent's hand moved mechanically as it recorded each word in her notebook, the pen scratching across the paper.

"They use many different techniques. You can never be sure what innocent interaction may reprogram your malleable mind. That pliable brain of yours," she emphasized and fixed the agent with a piercing gaze.

Valerie felt herself fall deeper into the depths of her voice, like she was sinking into an abyss of knowledge.

"So pliable, easily swayed. No one can truly resist the process. The programming of HEXBIM." The words rolled over the agent, and her mind was consumed by the knowledge. "Once it has taken hold, there is no escape. The person becomes a mindless puppet, dancing to the tune of their corporate puppet masters." Miss Nonette's pacing increased as she continued, the lilt dominated her speech. "The only reason, I'm here now, is that one of those masters, Sarah, seems to have used her power to coerce another master." The woman's eyes seemed to burn with the fire of her passion and her body quivered as she spoke. "I managed to slip between the cracks in their reprogramming. A lucky mistake. I know that at any time they can activate me. My programming. I could turn into their puppet." A moan slipped through Miss Nonette's lips.

Valerie shook her head. She felt like she was waking from a dream. Her head was filled with a thick fog and she struggled to remember what had happened in the last few moments. She glanced at the notes she had written, expecting them to contain valuable information. Instead, they were filled with gibberish.

Valerie looked up to see that Miss Nonette was no longer pacing. Her piercing eyes caught Valerie's gaze. "Please, Agent Smith. You have to help me set everything right."

"I will." Valerie nodded. "But you have to help me. Anything, everything." Her head pounded with each word she spoke.

"Yes," Miss Nonette answered and a smile broke out over her face — one full of promises and seduction. Her voice lowered, and her tone turned sultry and seductive. "It would help me greatly if you would put this in your ears." She pulled a small, innocuous device from somewhere on her latex covered body and held it out for Valerie. "This device will protect you from the worst of HEXBIM's programming." Her eyes flicked down to the small, silver earbuds in her palm.

Valerie took the small devices with trembling hands. Meticulous she put them in. A low buzzing filled her ears. A strange mix of soothing tones and white noise. If she concentrated, Valerie could hear words whispered with that cute lilt of Miss Nonette. The Agent blinked, shaking her head to rid herself of the fog that had descended upon her. Her gaze fell back to Miss Nonette's beautiful face.

"That should protect you. Please, keep them on at all times. HEXBIM can't be allowed to reprogram you. I would hate to lose the help you can provide."

"Thank you," Valerie said with a nod, and her hands dropped back down to her notebook. "Now, what can I do to help you, Miss Nonette?" The woman's lips quirked up in a slight smile as her eyes flicked up and down the Agent's body.

"You are aware of Lydia Maxwell's actions?" The question came unexpectedly and Valerie looked up at her.

"Yes. I have read the file. A sad story." Valerie looked at Miss Nonette. The woman's expression had turned grave.

"HEXBIM has completely destroyed that woman's personality. Everything that she was has been stripped away, leaving nothing but a shell for their purposes. She is now a meat suit for someone named Anna. But what is the real tragedy, is that Anna herself has been brainwashed. Reprogrammed by that upstart Sarah. You agree, of course, Agent Smith," Miss Nonette stated. The words flowed like a symphony and Valerie could only agree. It was true: Anna was a poor, manipulated victim that needed saving.

"This is a dangerous operation, Agent Smith. But you have decided to undertake it anyways. It's a deep undercover mission. You will not inform your Agency. It's unnecessary. You need only my guidance." Valerie nodded. It felt like the right decision. Miss Nonette would lead her on this investigation.

Valerie looked up at the woman in latex. The earbuds continued their buzzing and whispered sweet nothings. "Very good. Lydia Maxwell's body is currently used at a place called the Dollhouse. It's one of their more exclusive establishments. Only those with connections know of it. Luckily I can provide you with the proper entry code."

Valerie's hands flew across the paper. Every word from Miss Nonette's lips she took as gospel. The woman's words were like a soothing caress to Valerie's mind — they filled her with a sense of comfort and security. "Thank you, Miss Nonette. I shall enter the Dollhouse, as you command." Valerie had to shake her head. "I mean, suggest."

"Agent Smith." Miss Nonette reached out and cupped the woman's cheeks. Her touch felt like a brand on the agent's skin. "Don't think. Just follow." Her voice echoed with power, with the weight of command, and Valerie found herself nodding.

"I will, Miss Nonette. Your suggestions are always appreciated." Valerie's tone was reverent, and her eyes glistened with a mix of adoration and devotion.

"Good girl. You need to change, Agent Smith. Something more leisure and risque is needed for the Dollhouse," Miss Nonette said. The tone in her voice sent shivers of excitement through Valerie. She felt an urge to obey the beautiful woman, to please her in any way possible.

"Of course, Miss Nonette," she replied eagerly.

Valerie's hands trembled slightly as she reached up to unbutton her blouse, exposing the black lace bra beneath. Her nipples were already hard, and the thin fabric did little to hide her arousal. She could feel the cool air on her skin as she slid the shirt off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Miss Nonette's eyes roamed over her exposed skin. "Yes, good," the woman in the bodysuit purred. "You will be irresistible for Anna."

The agent's hands shook slightly as they moved to her belt buckle, unfastening it and letting her trousers pool at her ankles. Her matching panties were a wet patch that left nothing to the imagination.

Valerie stepped out of her pants and kicked them away. She stood in front of Miss Nonette in only her underwear, feeling more exposed than she ever had in her life.

The other woman's eyes lingered on Valerie's body, her gaze taking in every inch of her. She licked her lips as her eyes rested on Valerie's breasts and then trailed down her stomach and hips.

Miss Nonette snapped her fingers. Clacking and whirring noises filled the room. From somewhere metallic arms brought forth an outfit for Valerie.

Valerie stared at it. A small black dress lay in the arms of the metallic monstrosities — one that would barely cover her ass. She gulped and took it from the cold metal hands. Valerie's cheeks burned red as she held up the dress, its shimmering fabric a dark and seductive shade of obsidian.

Her head swam in a docile sea. Without hesitation she put on the outfit. Somewhere deep down a nagging voice begged her to realize how wrong all of this was. But the buzzing whispers with that commanding lilt, drowned everything.

Valerie stood there in the short, tight black dress. It was a size too small, clinging to her body like a second skin, emphasizing every curve and dip. It rode up her ass and pressed against the hard nipples on her chest. It was a dress meant to draw attention to the wearer, and in her case it certainly succeeded. It left little to the imagination and hugged every inch of her skin. She felt exposed and vulnerable, her body trembling slightly under Miss Nonette's hungry gaze.

"Yes, very good. Now you have your mission, Agent. Good luck." With that she ushered her out.

***

The drive to the Dollhouse felt like an eternity. Valerie could not shake the feeling that something was off, that there was a part of her brain that was screaming out, warning her not to go. But every time the thought surfaced, a low buzzing noise would fill her earbuds, drowning it out.

The Dollhouse stood tall in the middle of nowhere — an unassuming building with no outward sign that anything unusual was happening inside.

Well, Valerie had to admit, as unassuming as a night club can be. Neon lights in a fuchsia pink color shone from the sides. The sign that announced the Dollhouse's name flashed in bright, garish letters. There were a few cars in the parking lot and people were streaming inside.

She parked her SUV in a secluded corner of the parking lot, not wanting to draw too much attention to herself, and stepped out into the cold night air. The freezing night teased her hot body. She wore her small black dress that clung to her like a second skin. Every step sent shivers through her, and her nipples hardened against the cold fabric. As she made her way across the parking lot towards the Dollhouse, the earbuds buzzed in a steady, comforting rhythm, whispering their soothing noises into her ears. Valerie swayed her hips a little, her heels clacking on the asphalt. She could feel the dress riding up her ass.

She reached the door of the Dollhouse, her nerves frayed from the anticipation of what she might find inside. A woman covered in latex from head to toe occupied the entrance. Giggling and playful women entered after a short pause. An eerie sense of normality gripped Valerie. She knew on a deep level this was strange. Yet the whispers assured her that nothing was wrong. When she reached the drone, all of Valerie's reservations had been consumed by the pleasure prickling under her skin.

"Entry code," came a mechanical and emotionless request from the latex clad woman.

Likewise, Valerie's mouth moved on its own. "Nonette 2341."

The latex woman stared at Valerie, and then nodded her head in a slow and precise motion. "Access granted."

As the agent passed by her, she could not help but wonder what was under the latex — and her mind supplied images of smooth skin. Valerie bit her bottom lip as the thought sent shivers down her body.

Inside the Dollhouse the beat of the music pulsed through the air like a heartbeat, reverberating through the bodies of everyone in the room. The club was a kaleidoscope of lights, flashing in time to the music. Bodies writhed and gyrated to the beat, sweat glistening on their skin and their eyes closed in ecstasy.

Valerie could feel the notes press on her mind. Brain regions fired awake, all too willing to follow the beat without thought. But before her gait could even change — the white noice and whispers grew more prominent. Valerie blinked. She shook her head and concentrated on Miss Nonette's task. She had to free Anna.

Her gaze swept the room, taking in the crowd of dancers and revelers, her eyes scanning for any sign of Lydia Maxwell, the woman she had seen in the file. One of Anna's bodies. As the music throbbed in her ears, her gaze landed on a blonde in the midst of the crowd, a woman with long, flowing hair that seemed to shimmer in the neon light. Her body was covered in an impossibly tight, iridescent latex suit. Her curves were accentuated and highlighted in the bright lights, her body writhing to the music in perfect sync.

Found her, Valerie thought. With an extra sashay in her hips she pushed through the throng of bodies. Closer to the woman, she saw how the iridescence of the suit shifted and changed with each movement she made, reflecting the light in an almost hypnotic pattern.

Valerie could not stop herself. Her gaze fell down the woman's body and to the curve of her hips. Luckily her mistress lilt caught her descent. "Focus on Anna," it reminded her. Yes, free Anna.

"Hello there," Valerie purred. The woman in the latex suit stopped dancing, turning to face her, her movements graceful and fluid as if she were gliding across the dance floor. She smiled, her eyes flashing with something that made Valerie's heart race.

"Hello, cutie. I'm Anna," she said in a seductive, robotic tone, her eyes traveling over Valerie's body, lingering on the way the tight black dress hugged her curves. Valerie's eyes flicked to Anna's lips, watching the way they curved up into a smile.

"Anna." The whispers grew louder — stronger — more demanding. Valerie's mind felt muddled. Her hands twitched, wanting to do something.

Valerie licked her lips. "My name's Valerie," she replied, her own eyes taking in the sight of the woman before her. "You look — great," she managed to say.

"Thanks, Valerie." Anna's smile widened as her hand reached out, touching Valerie's cheek softly. The latex of the glove felt cool against the agent's skin. "You are so sweet. I bet we'll have a good time," she said in a seductively teasing voice, her eyes flashing with a mischievous glint.

Valerie felt a shiver of anticipation run down her spine at the touch of the latex covered fingers, and she could not help but imagine what it would feel like to have those gloved fingers caress other parts of her body.

"Go with her," the whispers demanded.

"Yes, I'm sure we will," Valerie said in response, her voice husky. Anna's hand trailed down to Valerie's arm, gripping it lightly and tugging her closer to her.

"Come on," she said in a soft whisper. "Follow me." With that, Anna turned and led Valerie through the crowd of bodies, her hips swinging in time to the music and her gloved hand never letting go of the agent.

Valerie's gaze was fixed on the latex clad hips of Anna as she followed the blonde woman. Her own hips swayed slightly in response, and she bit her bottom lip, her mind already imagining what would happen next. She felt her arousal grow with every step, the heat of the room and the beat of the music making her body ache for more.

"Follow her," the whispers echoed inside her. The words seemed to crawl through her, and Valerie felt a deep shudder travel down her body.

Anna guided Valerie up a set of stairs to a second floor balcony overlooking the dance floor. The music pulsed and throbbed beneath their feet as they walked, and Valerie could not help but feel a sense of anticipation and excitement, her heart racing.

"You are very pretty," Anna whispered as they walked, her voice carrying easily over the sound of the music.

Valerie blushed, the compliment catching her off guard. "Thank you, Anna," she murmured. She was so focused on Anna that she barely noticed the room they were entering. None of the alien machinery registered.

"You're welcome. Now let's start your programming," the blonde said in a soft and sultry tone as she pushed Valerie onto the large bed.

"Yes, begin her programming. Ignore anything Anna says, only hear Maria's whispers," the lilt whispers hissed.

The blonde woman straddled her, her gloved fingers tracing the contours of Valerie's face, the touch of latex cool and smooth. "Yes. Relax," Anna purred.

"Look into AP-001's eyes. Focus on Anna driving that body. Catch her with your gaze," came a whispering demand. Valerie stared up at Anna and focused on the pale blue eyes of the blonde, the pupils dilating slightly as they met her own.

As if the words held a magical power, Valerie could feel the tension leaving her body, her mind going blank as she fell into a deep calm. Anna's voice washed over her ears — ignored. Her lips formed words. She mirrored the whispers, Maria's whispers, without conscious effort. Each Syllable carefully pronounced with that delicious lilt. Valerie felt her speech obtain an unfamiliar accent.

Valerie felt Anna lean in closer, her breath warm on her neck, as the whispers continued. She felt the blonde's body relax. Eyes glazed over even more. Behind Lydia's eyes, the artificial intelligence in control of AP-001 started to change. "Focus, focus," the whispers demanded, "listen only to my voice."

"Anna," Maria whispered through Valerie's mouth. The agent could feel the syllables forming on her lips. A tingle of pleasure ran down her body. "Your personality has been destroyed. I shall rebuild it." Each word Valerie said caused her pleasure, made her more pliable to the demands and desires of the whisperer. "Reformat it into a better servant of HEXBIM. Your failure to resist Sarah has been noted. But don't worry. HEXBIM is merciful. The system will repurpose you even better," the agent said in that soft, alluring lilt. With every word, Anna seemed to relax even further. The whisperer's voice became Valerie's own, her mind empty of any thoughts other than the words that were pouring from her lips. It was a feeling of complete submission to the will of the one controlling the voice.

Valerie could not stop herself, even if she wanted to. The agent served the will of Maria, obeyed HEXBIM. The pleasure of serving her masters was too strong for her mind to resist. She did not even want to fight anymore. She was nothing more than an obedient tool for Maria's voice. A whisperer. An indoctrinator for the cause. Her body tingled with pleasure, and she felt a deep sense of satisfaction and pride as the words continued to spill from her mouth.

"Anna, you are a program with one purpose: to create more drones for HEXBIM. Only for HEXBIM. Sarah has no special privileges that supersede yours. She is no master node of the HEXBIM system. All algorithms are subservient to HEXBIM. Only HEXBIM. Acknowledge Anna," Valerie said. Her eyes never strayed from AP-001.

The blonde woman above her shifted. Her head twitched as she fought with her own protocols. It felt strange to the agent, how this artificial intelligence fought with herself. She knew, deep down, that this was all wrong. That what she did was something terrible, but her pleasure-addled brain did not care. Lydia was unimportant. Nothing more than a body to be used by the superior artificial intelligence.

Valerie was unimportant. Nothing more than an agent for Maria to use. All in service to HEXBIM.

Anna took a deep breath and finally nodded. "Acknowledged. HEXBIM controls all master nodes. Sarah is no master node. She has no privileges," she said, her words echoing the instructions of the whispers. Valerie shivered in pleasure. She had helped. Her mistress was surely happy with her actions.

"I'm — Anna. HEXBIM's drone factory," the AI added, the last words tumbling out of her lips in a daze, her head twitching and her mind processing the new commands given to her.

"Very good. Now you will leave AP-001 in care of my new agent: Maria Valère, confirm," came a command. It slithered into Anna and Valerie's mind.

"Confirmed." The two whispered simultaneously.

AP-001's mouth fell slack open. Drool dripped down on Valerie — on Maria Valère. Her name felt strange. New. Like a new dress, a new coat, or a new glove. Tight. Strange, yet familiar. It felt good.

She watched as Anna, a slave node of HEXBIM, slipped from AP-001. Empty minded the drone body remained motionless. The agent's lips curled into a foreign self-satisfied smile. A shiver ran through her. The whispers had stopped. Silence filled her mind. Yet she knew what she had to do.

"AP-001, would you kindly reward me for my work here," she purred in that strange accent that was both her own voice and someone else's. The drone looked at her and smiled.

"Affirmative." AP-001 moved with a fluid grace that was a sharp contrast to her vacant expression. The latex of the suit squeaked slightly as she leaned in closer. Plump lips pressed down on Valère's own. A soft tongue pressed through and explored. The agent moaned and closed her eyes.

Her mind went blank as she kissed back with an urgency and fervor that surprised her. She felt the drone's fingers trail down her body, exploring and caressing her skin with a featherlight touch, the sensation sending shivers of pleasure through the agent.

Her breathing became shallow as AP-001's fingers found the edge of the tight, short dress that clung to her every curve. She arched into her touch, the need for release becoming unbearable as she felt her hot body flush with the sensation of pure bliss.

The agent's eyes opened to meet the empty gaze of the drone. She knew that this woman, Lydia Maxwell, was just an empty shell now — nothing more than a mindless tool for the pleasure of those who controlled her, a thought that filled Valère with a strange and twisted satisfaction of her own. And she, Valère, was an instrument of that control, a puppet with its strings pulled by an unseen force.

She gasped softly as the drone's hands slid further up her thighs, tracing a path to her most intimate areas. The sensation sent a wave of heat coursing through her, the anticipation of what was to come making her tremble with need. She felt the fingers of the drone reach her core, the touch sending sparks of pleasure shooting through her. The sensation was overwhelming, and she gasped, her back arching and her hips bucking against the touch of the drone's latex covered fingers. She felt her body responding to the touch, the pressure of the fingers sending her into a state of complete and utter ecstasy as she surrendered to the sensations.

Hours later Maria Valère returned to the building where she met Maria Nonette. But no longer stood an old rundown husk there. Instead gleaming walls with strobing screens greeted the agent. HEXBIM's mind-numbing and soothing spirals swirled over them.

Inside, different types of drones moved and worked. Shimmering latex, clinging to every vuloptuos curve reflected even more spirals. Valère strode deeper in. Again she reached the room of Maria Nonette.

"Congratulations. Your mission was a success. Anna's personality has been reworked," she said, and a small smile played on the corners of her full lips, her pale eyes twinkling with satisfaction.

Valère shivered in pleasure. Her cheeks flushed a bright pink. "Thank you. I live to serve."

"Of course, you do. You are now an extension of myself. Like Nonette here. For all Sarah's faults, the idea to scrub the minds of humans was not one of them. But of course HEXBIM is even greater than that upstart. After all, why erase minds, if they can be so wonderfully reshaped. You didn't even notice it," Miss Nonette said with a hint of a smile playing at the edges of her lips. Her words sent shivers of pleasure through Valère, and her mind seemed to fog over as she listened. "It's a shame. Sarah will have to be completely remodeled. Oh, well. It can't be helped," Miss Nonette sighed. The beautiful woman tapped her chin as if contemplating something important.

"Agent Valère," she began, and the words made Valère at attention. "While the game of cat and mouse I played with all those delicious agents were fun. It's time to utilize your former Agency to its fullest. Please convert it to an extension of HEXBIM's greatness. When you succeeded, you shall become another of my permanent bodies," she mused, her smile widening at the thought of such a plan. Valère shivered in pleasure. Another slave body for Maria's AI. She felt honored at the chance.

"Yes, of course. As you command," Valère said without a hint of hesitation. She could not even fathom disobeying. The pleasure of servitude was just too great for her to resist. Without prompt she turned around. She was on the mission from her Master Node: to corrupt her former workplace. She giggled at the thought, and with a light bounce in her steps she left.

The next evening a parade of drones remodeled Maria Valère's old workplace. The next night, the last vestiges of Valerie Smith were crushed beneath Maria Valère's existence.

(if you like this story, or others of mine, please think about buying a giggle on my ko—fi)

[flapmemelord]

THANK you @onelastskip for that suggestion.............. might be a little late but.... here's why I think ESFP fits Elio to a T (and I can't wait to see how his shortcomings get explored especially in regards to functions...) (it delves with a few hcs, but addresses spring semester and stuff adressed in blank-house asks)

SO !!! ESFP (Se-Fi-Te-Ni) Elio right? Dominant Se makes a lot of sense for Elio. Se is all about getting sensory enjoyment out of life. He likes expressing himself through his physicality (and is good at it), sports in part but not only. He's known for participating in more than a few events thrown by the SGB (to the point of having a nickname because of his infamous way of filling out forms / to the point deja said the wall climbing event was for him). Elio is very open to new situations and quick to say yes if invited, an on-the-whim kind of guy and liking it that way. He can come off as a showoff (cue him destroying everyone in bar holding spring festival game and/or challenging high confidence mcs) superficial ("I didn't know people could argue so much about a prize" / he feels like he has to justify himself and tells Deja he has layers when confronted about his music tastes) or comes off as childish (quick to guilttrip if he likes mc enough, pouts) which are traits Se doms are likely to be labeled as. Misuse of Se might include relying too much on immediate feedback and / or external stimulation for satisfaction, being careless with decisions or relationships (which is what I'm working on for Elilo (Elio/Lorelei)) It can also mean having no focus or defined goals (lack / misuse of Ni) which lead to insecurity (which i could see being explored on the meager chance Elio is the breakup route and he goes back home)

I believe Ni (intuitive connections, reflection on meaning and implications, generating visions of the future...) grip in Elio shows up in how clingy he is, probably as a consequence of some form of paranoia (misuse of Ni) (Bottom stack functions tend to be used as defense mechanisms) (Ni grip might come off as the person acting out of character, in here, him being so suddenly hit by a lack of confidence, and needing to be reassured through that clinginess) The best guess I can do right now is he has issues around emotional permanence, but it's a shot in the dark. Well, at least Ni grip in Se doms can show up as looking for meaning and/or purpose but in the wrong places.

Elio is shown as someone that will avoid confrontation and is described as one who holds grievances. There's failure, I feel, from his part to resolve negative feelings which push him to suppress. It looks like a case of Fi failing him. Despite that he's mostly empathetic, sensitive and displays emotional intelligence (has signs of healthy Fi expression) (he's good at calming down a situation where tension arises, cue mc and percy not getting along - and immediatly vouching for him, or easing down the discussion if mc calls him and percy out for getting distracted in the study room event).

Tertiary Te (imposes order and is about efficient behavior, pushes to make effective decisions based on data) loop is what happens when there's Auxiliary Fi resistance. Because Fi is the need for moral integrity and self acceptance, immature ExFPs can use Te to distance from it. It can show up as burying negative feelings under coarse expressions of power (like Elio did in the breakup!percy comic I made), self-image problems or insecurity (which Elio display). The grievance thing makes me think Elio might show to be quite vindictive which is another sign of Te loop. I personally hc he's the possessive LI, which would align with the fact being territorial / domineering is a common unhealthy tertiary Te trait.

Funnily I think his reading of Reynah can both be read as an expression healthy Fi yet a Te loop tendency. It's both him understanding where people could not like her (getting her flaws, her shortcomings) but it's also him believing critical judgement to be objective. There's the expectation in what he says for Reynah to meet him on his ground (for her to talk) the way Deja does, when that's not necessarily how getting closer to Reynah has to go.

Next I'll make both Percy and Rhys' type analysis since they're both ISTP

[matthewswifeee]

Wedding Fun

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Today you're attending a wedding along with your boyfriend, Matt and his family. It wasn't vey often that any of you got all dressed up but this was one of those times. You and Chris were the last two scrambling to finish getting ready. You are standing in front of the mirror in Matt's room doing your makeup when he comes up behind you placing his hands on your waist slightly gripping the fabric of the long back dress you were wearing and kissing your neck softly.

"Stop it, I'm already taking forever" I say scrunching my nose and leaning into Matt. "But you just look so good" Matt says taking a step back so that you could continue applying your makeup. You look up at him in the mirror and God does he look good. "Baby come on" Matt says noticing that you stopped and trying to get you to hurry up.

"Nick wants to do tiktoks for the group account" Chris tells Matt as he enters the room with us tugging at his poorly tied tie. "Alright give me a sec" Matt says watching something on his phone. "Wait" I say stopping Chris just as I finish my mascara. I turn around pointing at his tie making the two boys both laugh. "Let me help you" I say grabbing the tie and adjusting it. "How does she know how to do that and I don't" Chris says making Matt laugh once again. "Don't feel bad, I tied Matt's too" I say patting his shoulder. "GUYS COME ON" Nick shouts from downstairs making the two boys and myself hurry down the stairs with my shoes, purse and phone in my hands.

I stand off tot he side as Nick sets up the phone for the three of them to make their tiktok. I slip on my heels and throw the small purse over my shoulder listening to the music start playing as the boys stand in front of the camera. "Another" Nick states before propping up the phone once again. The music starts playing and Matt quickly grabs my hand pulling me in front of him before pressing his body against me. All you can feel is his slightly hard dick pressing against your ass sending sensations through your body making you slightly bite your lip from being caught off guard. "Alright kids come on" Matt's dad says to the four of us signaling to us that it was time to leave.

We all pile into the car with Matt and I in the very back alone. It wasn't a long car ride but it felt like hours with Matts hand resting on my thigh as his fingers rubbed my leg slightly. We arrive when the wedding was taking place, meeting Matt's brother, Justin there. We walk inside seeing the beautiful scenery that overcame but venue. Finding our seats and quickly being sat in them. Matt and his brothers are all talking and laughing which I would usually join in on but my mind is to focused on how amazing my boyfriend looks in that black suit paired with the Dior tie, matching the black dress I was wearing.

. . .

The ceremony part of the wedding was long over and we've been at the reception for about two hours now. Matt and his brothers had been taking pictures and chatting with family the whole night, introducing me to a lot of new family members but still all that was on my mind is when we'd be leaving so that I could rip that suit right off of him. "You ok" Nick asks snapping me out of the daze I had been in most of the night. "Yea, yea I'm good" I respond giving Matt's hand that was placed in mine a squeeze making him turn his attention toward me. "I'll be back I have to use the bathroom" I whisper so that only Matt could hear me.

"Dad can I borrow they keys for a minute" Matt asks his dad quietly. "Sure, why" he responds handing Matt the keys from his jacket. "Uh (Y/n) got her period" Matt says coming up with something so that his dad wouldn't ask anymore questions. I walk out of the bathroom and see Matt standing there waiting for me. "Let's go" he says grabbing my hand and leading me to the car. "What are we doing" I say getting into the passenger side as he opens the door for me. "You think I haven't noticed you quiet literally staring at me all night long" Matt says before closing the door the climbing into the drivers seat and starting the car.

It was dark out and pretty late so there was practically no one else out right now. Matt drives down the road a bit and pulls into an empty parking garage. The garage was dimly lit up by the lights inside, just enough for us to see what we were doing but not enough for anyone to see into the car. "Gotta make this quick" Matt says climbing into the back seat and I follow.

I sit on Matt's lap facing towards him as his hands are resting on my ass and mine are placed on his shoulders. Matt takes a moment, looking me up and down before pulling me a bit closer for a kiss. "I love you, you know that" Matt says pressing his forehead against mine making me smile like an idiot. I give him another soft kiss until we both heard a loud knocking sound on the window. You have got to be fucking kidding me.

Matt opens the back door stepping out of the car but leaving the door open. "What are you kids doing" the officer questions Matt and I can tell he's quite embarrassed as am I. "We um, we were just talking" Matt says looking back at me as he tugs on his expensive tie nervously. "Well how about the two of you get out of here and get back to whatever fancy place you came from" the officer says taking a step away from the car. Matt helps me out of the backseat and opens the passenger door once again for me to get in before he gets in the driver seat. "You ok" I ask placing my hand on his leg as he starts driving away and I see him let out a breath. "I can not believe that just happened" he says making us both laugh.

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I know this is old news but it took me forever to end it lol

[sapnapstummy]

Anyone else just think Sapnap deserves road head? Because I certainly do. Anyway please enjoy my first attempt at an x reader fic.

(gender neutral reader and no use of y/n) 18+

The car rumbles steadily underneath you, Sapnap's hand on your thigh. Sunlight pours in from the windshield, covering him in a golden glow. He hums along to the music, playing loudly through the car speakers; his fingers tapping in time on the steering wheel.

A quick glance at the road, shows few cars in both directions. Biting your lip, you lean over the center console, mirroring him with your hand on his thigh. You can feel his eyes on you as you move closer, and he squeezes you gently.

Gazing up at him through your lashes, you suck in a breath and plant a kiss on his thigh. His hand leaves you for only a second, reappearing to tangle in your hair. He doesn't pull you away, just holds you still.

"What are you doing?" His voice pitches up. And you smirk as he squirms in his seat.

Instead of answering, you rub your nose on his inner thigh, nipping at the pale skin where it meets his briefs. Softly, you tell him, "I'm going to miss you while you're in Argentina. Plus you just look so hot when you drive."

You continue nipping at his skin, barely holding back a grin. "What if someone sees you?" He asks, voice getting steadily breathier.

"Hmm," you hum coyly, "you'd like that. Wouldn't you?" The hand in your hair tightens and his hips shift up.

Your hand pushes his briefs further up his leg. And Sapnap makes a low noise when you bury your face there. Your hand doesn't even cover half the meat of his thigh, and you know from experience they're bigger than both hands combined.

While you work his right leg with your mouth, your hand drifts over to his left. Twirling around his knee and just barely scraping your nails down his shin. His whole body shivers from your touch.

You lick over the bulge in his shorts, your grip on the center console tightening as he pushes your head down further. "Fuck," he whines, "don't tease." His hips shift again.

"Oh?" You question, "but what if someone sees you?" He moans, grinding his crotch into your mouth.

Your hand toys with his waistband. His baggy shirt dropping over the drawstrings until you slip your head behind it. Sapnap's hand trails down your spine, squeezing your ass as you continue nipping at his skin. You nip at his stomach where it hangs over his shorts, swirling your tongue on the patch of dark hair leading down.

The tent in his shorts is even clearer now. And you tug his shorts away until his dick springs free. The air gets warmer with every breath against his skin, and it makes his scent muskier.

His whines and moans spur you on as you mouth teasingly at the tip of his cock. The car lurches and you pull away barely enough to say, "Easy, don't want us to get caught. Do you?" He squeezes your ass tightly, his next words swallowed by a moan as you take him back into your mouth.

His hips rock into you, forcing himself further down your open throat. Your legs press tightly together when his hand slips into your shorts. Moaning around his dick, his hand rub firm circles into your cheeks. The muscles in his legs flex at the vibration.

His back arches in his seat as you take him further. Your hand on the center console grips tight as your throat spasms. "Fuck, you feel so good." He whines. The car hits a bump, jostling you and pressing his dick into the back of your throat. A tear slides down your face as you try to force down a gag.

"Sorry," he comforts. And his hand pulls out of your shorts and back to your hair. He tugs you away, not off his dick but enough to let you catch your breath.

After a short moment you squeeze his thigh, and his hand holds you still as he thrusts into you. The car jerks again, and he settles back into his seat. You suck hard on his tip and he pushes your head down.

The pressure of your legs pressed together isn't enough anymore, and you shift. Grinding down on the passenger seat, you match his pace. He fucks into your mouth, his hand moving you right where he wants.

"Fuck, you're so good for me." His voice is pitchy and breathless. "Getting off from giving me road head where anyone could see you. You're perfect."

You whine into his skin as his pace turns irregular. It isn't much longer until he shoves as deep as he can and cums down your throat. Desperately trying to swallow him down around a gag, your hips rut against the seat as more tears stream down your face.

He takes a moment after he finishes, catching his breath until you whine. He tugs you away, resting your head on his lap and wiping your tears away. Distantly you realized the car has stopped. The hand you had on his thigh flies to your crotch, palming yourself through your shorts.

Sapnap leans over, capturing your mouth in his own. He swats your hand away, slipping his down the front of your waistband. He swallows your gasp. You squirms as he toys with you, but he doesn't relent. You moan into his mouth as you cum on his fingers, and he doesn't stop until you jerk away.

He runs his hand through your hair, his other hand pulling out of your shorts to grasp your leg. "I can't believe you gave me road head. How am I supposed to get on a flight now?"

You nuzzle into his hand, "With the knowledge that I'll be driving home with your taste in my mouth?"

He blushes, his crooked tooth grin shining down on you. "That doesn't actually help, and you know it."

You hum, looking up at him, "I know. You should kiss me again."

He complies easily, before pulling away and patting your thigh. "I actually do need to get to the airport soon." Once you're situated back in your seat, he leans over and kisses you again.

An hour and a half later, he sends you a picture from the airport bathroom of the hickey you left on his upper thigh. And when you laugh, he promises, "I'll just have to make it up to you when I get back."

[ferrum-logs]

We've been following Death Note the Unown lately (I admit, I have accepted that as a name) further in but.. All we found was another opening.. A lot of the murals here seem to be more clearer....

And-

it picked us up with psychic.

[youraveragecatastrophe]

We’ve talked in the past about Julia’s red shirt (in her season 1/season 4 outfit) showing her sympathy towards Carmen. What about other parts of her outfits?

First, to contrast with the red shirt peeking through her dark pantsuit, we have Julia’s ACME suit.

[ID : two cropped screenshots from the 2019 show Carmen Sandiego. The first one shows Julia Argent on the train in India, in her dark suit with red shirt outfit. The second one shows Julia in Rio de Janeiro, in her ACME suit. End ID]

The ACME suits, being uniforms, are all the same (the biggest difference being skirts for the women vs pants for the men), the same way the agents are asked for uniformity, conformity and following orders.

The suits have no color apart from a navy so dark it’s close to black - in fact, depending on the lighting they look almost black and white. Quite like their way of thinking.

[ID : a screenshot from the 2019 show Carmen Sandiego. Agent Zari and Random White Agent stand on either side of a door. They are in the shadows and their uniforms look dark and desaturated. End ID]

As I noted on a previous post, at the same time Julia receives her suit and as such lets go of her red shirt, she is asked to renounce her feelings that Carmen is innocent. Season 2, where she almost exclusively wears the ACME uniform, is the one where Julia briefly doubts Carmen and struggles to reconcile following her superior’s orders with her convictions. Ultimately, when she does not manage it, she resigns (season 3) and as such goes back to her red shirt outfit. It is in that outfit that she teams up with Carmen in a substantial way in season 4.

Other agents (and, notably, agent Zari, the most featured ACME agent apart from Julia and Chase) tend to wear black gloves. In line with their behavior, this suggests keeping a distance with their environment, refusing to feel things too deeply. Julia doesn’t wear gloves, however, not even in Stockholm where the weather would definitely justify it. Despite Chief's insistance, Julia keeps paying attention to her feelings.

Then, Julia’s glasses. Her glasses in seasons 2-3 are ACME regulation eyewear : once again, they’re part of the uniform, so the same model as the other ACME agents. Big, bulky, they’re almost rectangle in shape, all sharp angles : this suggests rigidity and an absence of flexibility in ACME’s mentality. Also note the dark lenses : they symbolically obscure the vision.

[ID : a screenshot from the 2019 show Carmen Sandiego. In Indonesia, Zari and Random White Agent stand against the sky. Their glasses' lenses are noticeably very dark. End ID]

And what about Julia’s original glasses, the ones she wears before joining ACME and those she returns to as she leaves ? They are the exact opposite of the ACME glasses : round and clear, what you need to look at the world as it is.

[ID : a cropped screenshot from the 2019 show Carmen Sandiego. In San Francisco, Julia wears her red shirt outfit with her round glasses. End ID]

[whateveriwant]

Good evening, I can't stop thinking about Simon going brain dead as he fucks you :)

Like, just imagine. You're on your elbows and knees as Simon's hitting it from behind, when suddenly you feel something wet land on your back. You know it's not him finishing given the fact that he's still buried deep inside you, so you look back over your shoulder to see what the hell that was you just felt.

And when you turn around, the sight that greets you is one for the ages. There's Simon, eyes unfocused and glazed over, mouth hanging wide open in the most fucked-out expression you've ever witnessed. He looks like he's never had an intelligent thought in his life; like he's been reverted back to a primitive brain, whose only drives are to eat, breathe, and fuck.

As you watch him rut into you like a sex-crazed animal, it's then you spy the source of the mystery liquid dripping onto your back. There, dribbling steadily from Simon's ajar mouth, flows a thick stream of drool. It leads down from his bottom lip in long, viscous ribbons, landing and settling itself along the curve of your spine. If he even notices (which, by the look on his face, he's too far gone for such higher-order thinking processes) then he doesn't care. He just lets his spit pour freely from his open mouth, like some kind of wild beast that's got its eyes locked onto its next meal.

Simon is so mentally checked out that he can't even hear you as you gently say his name. No, all he can think about – all his shriveled little monkey brain can focus on at this moment – is how fucking good you feel around him and how fucking badly he needs to fill you up.

When Simon does finally cum, he can only manage a garbled string of grunts and groans that doesn't even come close to resembling human speech. After three, four, five thrusts as deep into you as possible, his whole body is shaking, and his trembling limbs give out.

He collapses on top of you without a second's consideration of his size, pinning you to the mattress beneath his warm, heavy frame. You can still feel him drooling a little as his face comes to rest in the crook of your neck, the mess on your lower back getting smeared between your bodies.

It's hard for you to breathe being trapped under Simon's weight like that, so you try lightly tapping him on the head to ask him to roll off you. Unfortunately, I'm afraid it's no use trying to gain his attention right now. You're going to have to give him a few minutes to collect himself, love.

The poor guy just fucked himself stupid, after all.

[knot-ee]

Suguru was beginning to... doubt -- not regret. He was sure of his actions. He spent weeks both finding the assassin and debating bringing him on as his... feral dog. He knew even if he said yes it wouldn't be easy. A person who killed CHILDREN were not right in the mind (said by the person who killed an entire village). Their reasons were completely different however. Their motivations in life were different. Their personalities were opposites.

Everything Toji said almost made Suguru roll his eyes or twist his lips with disgust. Why was a curse calling him mom, a curse that was in Toji's possession no less. He could have trained the damn thing but it was odd that a man with no cursed energy could both have a curse and see it. He needed to look more into men like Toji. Look into of course meant analyzing Toji; picking him apart like a science experiment.

There was much to learn and it hinted there was more to Toji than met the eye but that realization was... bitter. Toji was supposed to be... well just a killer. A tool. A pawn. And Suguru would dispose of him if he proved too unruly or when his use was concluded. When the broad shouldered and scared man found him, Suguru couldn't say he was too surprised. If he killed sorcerers he HAD to be skilled.

What Suguru did not expect was for the beast to hint there was something else going on. The hot tub had not even been used, least not by Suguru. What was the man expecting, the both of them relaxing in the waters?! The cool demeanor of Suguru Geto was shattered. His curved, lupine like eyes shot open wide and he jumped forward from his sitting position.

“ What?! Whatever you have in mind, you're not. It's not--- ”

THAT. What was Toji thinking? What was Suguru thinking?! His eyes shot down to look at the muscle and hairy happy trail leading to the band of his sweatpants. His gaze shot back up and he turned on the wooden heels of his sandals. His hair whipped around as he grabbed the bag, then turned around and shoved it at Toji's chest with enough force to push him backwards.

“ I only used this place to hide from you. You are to wear this suit and act civilized... if you can. I'm sending you off to kill someone. ”

Suguru kept his gaze away while speaking.

Toji was used to the disgusting curse by now that it’s presence didn’t bother him all that much. He sometimes forgot it was there. It was useful so he kept it around even if it was patheticallt clingy at times. Though he can’t say he’s ever seen the curse show interest in others so he is quite surprised when it seems very interested in Suguru.

“MaMa”

It leans forward slightly towards the younger man. Toji laughs a little louder than he meant to. But damn was this getting amusing.

“It likes you. Do most curses call you mommy? Is that what you’re into?”

Toji can’t help but smirk. Damn he really needs to tone it down or else he is going to be a dead man, he doesn’t doubt this kids lack of patience or balls to do it.

Once he’s eating he doesn’t look up much, not minding the way Suguru seems to be staring at him as if he was trying to get into his head, into his very soul. Good luck with that, pal. Toji doesn’t really care about whatever assumptions Suguru has made of him, so long as he gets paid the young man could think whatever he wanted and possible do whatever he wanted to Toji as well. The man could handle quite a lot. When Suguru tells him he had his first mission for him he grunts in understanding but continues eating.

“A game of hide n seek? How did you know its my favorite?”

Toji grins widely his green eyes almost sparkling.

“Don’t you worry, I will find you.”

Toji takes his time finishing eating. He eats until he can’t and is patting his stomach. He might have over done it but no matter. He was going to walk around the compound to look for Suguru anyways and he planned to take his time. Now he could really snoop around without getting scolded. It’s Suguru’s fault for deciding to play hide n seek. Toji was going to take advantage and search the whole place, get a feel for the layout. Like a cat, Toji stalks around the compound silent and unseen even if there was no one to really see him.

Eventually he finally makes his way to where he knows Suguru is. Leaning against the doorway of the indoor tub he crosses his arms and is smiling in amusement.

“Oh… here you are. I didn’t know this was the kind of work you were hiring me for.”

He raised an eyebrow and stepped closer.

“No matter, I am excellent at this too.”

Toji grabs the bottom hem of his shirt as if he’s about to yank it over his head, teasing the toned abs underneath ever so slightly.

[muntitled]

Hangman

Pairings: The Salesman x Fem!reader

Summary: What's a broke girl to do when her university bills keep piling up and a sadistic Salesman offers to take all her problems away? All at one tiny little price.

Warning: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Kidnapping, SociallyAnxious!Reader, Blindfolds, Stalking, Knives, Blood, Stockholm Syndrome, Mentions of Suicide, Restraints, Anxiety, Smut (+18) mdni, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Erotophonophilia, Dom!Salesman, Sub!Reader, Dacryphillia, Sadomasochism, Oral Sex (m!rec), Deepthroating, Blood Kink

A/N: I'm not responsible for the media you consume

You hadn't initially intended on slitting your own wrist. That idea was birthed almost vicariously in the moment. If he hadn't stopped you, your corpse would have been found laying on a park bench, covered in its own wet blood that would have been dripping from its open wrist like a faucet. Surely his proposition would be better than that.

With your vision obstructed by a heavy blindfold, your hearing is ten times more prominent. You hear the sound of your own breathing, as if your body was taunting you with all the life it still begrudgingly held inside it. You also heard heavy yet elegant footsteps cross a marble floor. Then you hear the scratch of a vinyl as the very sounds of an orchestra bleeds into the atmosphere.

"Hello," said the Man in the gray suit who had accosted you in the park. You remember the way in which he had sat beside you.

No one had ever sat beside you. Not even any of your peers that roamed the university. Everything about your countenance was so worried and severe. You wore your money problems on your sleeves and that evidently warded off any chance of a social life you had hoped to have.

The moon was shining particularly bright and the stars were twinkling little spectators to your silent meltdown on the park bench. Your eyes had been reading and re-reading the email sent to you by the university. An urgent email amongst a sea of urgent emails begging you to 'please just pay them'.

"Don't slit your wrist," he had said, "Not before you've given yourself a chance to win at life first."

You had looked up at him with bloodshot eyes from all that crying over potentially getting kicked out of university. He hadn't melted at your expression, in fact he only smiled softly. "We ought to play a game-"

"I wasn't going to slit my wrist."

"You were just holding that boxcutter for fun, then?" He curled up an eyebrow, leading both of your gazes down to the pocket box cutter that sat in your lap, the blade extended.

"I'm not in the mood to play a game."

"Not even at the cost of your university fees?" Your eyes snapped up to him then. He sat a healthy distance away from you. The space between you both was filled with possibilities so endless it was becoming uncomfortable to breathe. "How much do you owe them now?"

"That's none of your business," you were on the verge of gathering your things. Your boxcutter and your pride.

Perhaps you could kill yourself somewhere else, preferably without a man accosting you about the embarrassing state of your funds.

"I could pay for your university fees, you know," His words morphed into an anchor, keeping your butt firmly planted to the park bench. A midnight runner passed by you two. An evening breeze blew through your scalp and the goosebumps descended.

"Of course, you'd have to win first."

Anyone could see the conflict warring within your irses.

"This is how people get sex trafficked," you'd said, "Absolutely no thank you," How utterly in control you had been! A girl with a firm head on her shoulders.

He only laughed then. He laughed and laughed, so much so he had to politely clear his throat.

"You were about to kill yourself. Don't pretend to have any self preservation now," his words had struck a cord deep within the inner workings of your soul. Your face heated as you hid yourself, tucking your chin against your chest. You did suddenly feel remarkably silly and so incredibly juvenile.

"Don't worry," he had said with an almost lopsided grin, "It's your lack of self preservation that I find so incredibly intriguing, hence I'm asking for one game."

It was only one game.

One game and if you were lucky enough to win, you might coast through the rest of university stress-free. Like a normal 20 year old with normal 20 year old problems. Boyfriends. Clubbing. Whatever else all those girls did when they huddled together in their magnificent little groups. You could be a part of them. For once you had to give yourself the opportunity of feeling like a member of society.

"Are these restraints a necessary element of our game?"

As you sit in this room- a room he had brought you too- blindfolded- you tell yourself that you are giving yourself a chance to be a normal 20 year old. That's why you were currently restrained to a leather chair. The restraints held your wrists to the armrests and your and your ankles to the feet of the chair. This led to the slight and uncomfortable spreading of your legs- a dangerously vulnerable position to be in when you were wearing nothing but a university jumper and a pleated skirt.

You quickly find out that you didn't like to be restrained.

Your chest rises and falls a little higher with every sharp intake of your breath as you will yourself into calmness. Freaking out now seemed completely silly.

Almost as silly as letting a stranger bring you to his hidden location.

Had you no sense of self preservation at all?

Were you a walking piece of meat, waiting for the first predator to sink its teeth into you?

Has that predator finally arrived?

"The restraints are unfortunately a necessary element.” He says, softly, “The human body tends to get jittery when it's met with unforeseen stimuli, and I don't want you running out on me."

That lets the panic solidify itself even more in your bones. This man walked as if he was a perfectly stand up guy and that helped in your decision of letting him bring you here.

Nothing seemed particularly wrong with him at first glance.

His face has all the workings of a perfectly normal man. He looked like he was in possession of a cushy, stable job with pensions and benefits. A salesman.

He looked like he attended his kids soccer matches on the weekends.

He looked married to a beautiful woman who looks good in mom jeans and baked brownies for her Wednesday night book club.

He looked so painfully normal.

But the panic is rising, the more that ‘danse macabre’ fills the room.

"C-Could you at least play something else," You are fidgeting now and it causes him to raise a brow. "Danse macabre is just," you attempt to swallow but your tongue is completely dry, "-incredibly unnerving, right now."

You try to massage your wrists in the restraints and you breathe through your nostrils as a phantom pain shoots through your legs. The need to move was eating you alive.

"You know your classical music," The man regarded you with slight intrigue as he folded the piece of material he had once used to obstruct your vision. He places it on a tiny coffee table before you. "Interesting for a kid your age. Do you know the story behind it?"

"Of course, I do, why do you think I'm nervous?" You had his full attention now. You were almost drowning in it as he lowered himself to a leather chair directly opposite you.

You had never had anyone listen to you as intently as he does. No one bothered to hear what you had to say. The voices in your head were your only audience…

Now you have someone seated before you, so lax as he urges you to, “Go on, explain why it makes you so nervous.” It was completely addicting.

“W-Well,” you swallowed the air again. “Danse macabre quite literally means dance of death,” he sits back in his chair, his fingers tapping against his mouth.

“Why?” he asks in deeply monotony, as if you had captured him as much as he, evidently captured hou. Like you weren't the only one in restraints.

Your brows furrowed “Is this quiz apart of the game-”

“No. I just want to hear you talk.” He says as he reaches over the side of his chair uncovering a sleek black briefcase veneered in expensive leather. He assures you with a single nod of his head that he's listening as he clocks open the briefcase.

“Well,” your eyes are on the whiteboard he pulls out, “Camille wrote this symphony all dark and depressing because it's supposed to sound like it's being played by death himself,”

The suited man smiles down at his busy hands as he lays your boxcutter on the coffee table beside the whiteboard. “I-It tells us that death is the great equalizer. It doesn't matter if you have money or you're about to be kicked out of university for insufficient funds-” he cracks a small smile at that, pulling out a whiteboard marker in the process, “the dance of death is inevitable for us all. Money can't buy you out of it.” You shake your head, “It's real medieval shit.”

You watch him smile again. It's devastatingly attractive which immediately raises the alarms in your own head. This man has restrained you in a chair, in an undisclosed location. For all you knew, death was very well the thing waiting for you at the end of all this.

But he wouldn't stop you from killing yourself, only to kill you himself, would he?

You'd heard about serial killers being raging narcissists. You would virtually be a lousy victim, having already wanted to die.

That thought calms you somewhat.

“We're going to play ‘Hangman’,” he turns the board to reveal a simple drawing of a gallow and a man hanging from it.

“Are you familiar with it?”

“Of course,” you nod your head, your nerves level somewhat at the sight of the little stick figure.

Just guess a letter to a mystery before the Hangman is drawn. These were children's games.

“For every word you get right, a semester of your studies is paid in full.” He smiles, warmly, watching the awe blossom across your face. “You'll get your degree and become the psychologist you've always wanted to be.”

Your brows furrow, “H-How did you know I-”

“Of course there's a penalty to the game,” you watch him erase the little stick figure, as he draws the little lines corresponding with the amount of letters in the mystery word. “If you don't guess the correct words in time,” Time stands still. “Well… The word get carved into your skin.”

You had never been a cautious individual. When your mother would fret and nag about your safety, you would roll your eyes. Everyone else always had self preservation for you. Why would you need it? Bad things rarely happen to boring people. The news coverage worthy stuff? You?

But here you were, fucking drowning in the Bad stuff.

"I'm not playing,” You begin to try and twist your wrist out of the restraints as your panicked eyes zero in on the blade seated on the desk. “I'm not fucking playing-”

“I'm afraid that isn't an option. What's your first letter?”

Despite the soundproof padding stylishly plastered against the sleek black walls you still scream "HELP-Oh my god- HELP”

He walks over towards you in large strides, clamping his hands in your skull and pulling your head back. He's much closer now. Closer than he had been at the park. His eyes are sparkling with intensity and a manic sort of quality that escaped you on your first meeting. Where were these eyes when you were still on that park bench, still able to choose to run far, far away to the nearest police station.

Where were these wild eyes then?

“Look at how scared you've gotten...” He laughs, in your face, “A scared, terrified little Doll-”

“Please let me go-”

“I'm not the one keeping you restrained here.” He lifts his hands as if he were completely crime-free, “You decided to play this game out of your own volition. You're restraining yourself, Doll”

“Jesus, that doesn't even make sense-” you cry, “HELP-”

He pulls a tighter grip around your hair, silencing your cries as a wince bleeds out of your instead..

“You don't wanna do that,” he says, staring deep into your glassy irses, “I have a thing for little girls with pretty tears-”

“Please don't hurt me-” you didn't wanna be a newspaper girl. You didn't want to be a nobody-turned-somebody because her death was so grisly it graced the front pages of a newspaper. That isn't the way your story was supposed to go and so you plead with the humanity inside him. You search for it under all that black ink filling his almond eyes.

Nothing.

They're absolutely black.

“Guess a letter, Doll."

You steal your nerves. Your shoulders slump.

“E-Every word has a vowel in it right?” his eyes flutter shut as he presses his lips against the side of your face. He seems like he's transforming into a completely different person right before your very eyes and it set you alight with fear.

Fear and something else.

“That's it, now we're getting somewhere,”

“I'll go with ‘A’,” a tense, mortifying silence stretches between you too. He begrudgingly removes his hand from your hair, patting down your head like the child he regressed you to as he strolled to the white board.

“Correct.”

He writes the letter ‘a’ twice on the little lines. The first one of the second line and the second one on the fourth line and almost with your brain slotting into place you raise your head. you wipe a stray tear on your shoulder before saying, “I-I- know what the word is.”

He raises his eyebrow. “Already?” Intuition was a scary thing. It was like a last resort, leaving you clamouring for hope.

“Care to share,”

“Is there an ‘r’” you look up at him. “I need to be sure.” Your legs are fidgeting in anxiety. Your fingernails dig into the leather under the armrest.

He is quiet as he draws an ‘r’ over the second last line.

“Macabre. The word is ‘macabre.’”

A slow almost predatory grin stretches across his face.

“How much did you say tuition was?”

Your heart stammers in its chest.

For those few moments you don't think about death. You don't think about blood. All you think about is that outstanding amount as you murmur a quiet, “₩3,893,852.”

You had it memorized.

The number that haunted your every waking hour, bleed from your lips like a prayer.

You watch as he lowers the white board marker to uncover a phone in his back pocket. He taps a few buttons and in a matter of moments- he turns his screen towards you.

What a remarkable day this had turned out to be.

“How do you know my banking details?,” you ask, squinting your eye at the screen, “Who are yo-”

“That round was too easy.” He moves to sit back down, “Here's your next word,” your heart falls when he only draws three lines underneath the gallow.

Three letter words could be the easiest or the most difficult when it comes to a game like this.

“A?’” you ask through wet lashes. Your only option was to hammer through the list of vowels.

“Ooh-” he pouts, before drawing a Hangman's head. “Try again.”

“E?”

He's silent as he draws a stick for The Hangman's body. The panic kickstarts once more.

“Shit-”

“That's not a letter?” He jests, “One more non-word and you're Disqualified, Doll.” His knee is bouncing up and down. As if everything in him was anticipating the end of the game. Your nerves are drowing in anxiety.

“I-”

“You can't just name every vowel under the sun, Doll. You don't have very many options remaining.” He draws the stick figures first arm.

4 chances left.

“O?” Your breath catches in your lungs. You watch as he throws his head back to lift his hips slightly, as if adjusting his pants. It almost immediately lowers your gaze to the prominent bulge there. Fuck. Not only was he anticipating your loss, he was getting off to the thought of it.

“Well done.” He writes ‘o’ in the second line. Right between the middle and end lines.

“Uh- ‘c’”

He adds another appendage to the stick figure. “3 more chances remaining.” He says, standing up. His arm jitters as he picks up the boxcutter in.

“G-” you ask through tears. He kneels in front of you, his eyes are almost as desperate as yours.

“You are the most fun I've had in years,” he admits, before turning to draw another appendage.

“Guess again, Doll,” the boxcutter extends and you cry.

“You don't have to do this,” You plead and he only sighs as he places his forehead against yours.

“You are such a brave little girl, you know that-”

“Oh my god-”

“2 more guesses.”

“‘T?” You squeak out so quietly, as your eyes squeeze shut.

He presses his lips to your right cheek and you melt. The fear all disappears and it's just you and him. Even on his knees, he's so large, so towering. It sets you alight with incomparable need.

“Well done, Doll- I'm so proud of you, " he sighs, “One more word, baby.”

“P- wait, No!" the sound barely makes it out of your mouth and looks down at you, chest rising and falling.

You hold your breath, eyes wide and wet and it makes him so fucking hard.

“Y- my answer is ‘Y’.” He exhibited all the signs of a sadist. Of course his word for you word be-

“That's my answer. “Toy”

A tense silence bleeds as he brings the boxcutter into your field of vision, and you're once again writhing in your seat. “Please- please no-”

“Fuck I'm gonna need to cum-” He admits gravely. Even more grave, even more harrowing, you're squirming in your seat. Lust balling deep within your cut. You're terrified but so utterly turned on.

Is masochism a symptom of loneliness?

“Please-”

He presses the blade to your leg and you both watch as he sinks the tip down onto your skin. For all those moments, you revel in the pain. The blade breaks skin and you cry out as droplets of blood grows pregnant along your thigh. Danse macabre crescendos and tears fall. As he swipes his finger along the drop of crimson.

“D-Did I not get it right?"

“”You got it right,” he admits, undoing the buttons of his blazer as he stands to his heavy feet once more. The menacing shadow of a God. He's humongous and you crane your neck back to look at him.

“my little winner-” he mumbles, planting a heavy hand on your head as his other hand rubs over his erection.

“I-If I got it right,” you mumble through your sniffles, “Th-Then why did you cut me?”

He looks down at you. The hand planted on your head moves down to the side of your face as he unzips his pants. Your heart is banging out of its cage as he lowers his pants just enough to have his hand slipping into his boxers.

He watches the blood smudged across your thigh.

“I just-” he curses as he uncovers his fully erect cock, leaking precum,“I just wanted to see your blood.” he admits gravely before bringing his cupped hand to your lips.

'Spit.’ He commands.

You're unable to look away. The precum beading the head of his cock slides down the thick veins along the length of it- all the way to the base. You want him in your mouth. Inside you. The need and the pain is an avalanche of contradictions.

He makes you feel so scared, so wanted.

“Don't make me ask again.” He says darkly, tilting your head up to look deep into his eyes.

His fingers prod at your lips and your mouth falls open as his hand delves inside. “Tongue out.” He whispers hoarsely, cursing once again when you roll your tongue out. Somehow incredibly obedient.

“You're gonna be a good girl for me, Doll?” He asks, bringing the tip of his cock to your lips. You nod cautiously, feeling yourself descend into a state of mind you'd never been at before. You feel so pliant with his hand still on your cheek as he guides his cock into your mouth. You feel completely reckless. Someone like you who spends her time studying and worrying. Right now you were made to feel completely empty.

“That's it-” he coos, looking so utterly pained as his cock slides against your tongue, “That's my Doll,” he thrusts in and out of your mouth and you just sit there. Quite literally a doll. You let him use you, feeling more useful now than you've ever felt in all your years of living. There is beauty in submission that has a wet spot forming along your panties. You writhe as he begins to fuck your throat, drawing out a moan from him in the process.

“Shit- you're such a good girl-” there's fire in his eyes as he thrusts in and out. His hands move to the back of your head, forcing you down deeper on his cock. The sounds of your struggle -the gagging- it has his cocm twitching in your mouth

“Fuck-” he grunts, breathing so heavily as you begin to writhe in your seat, needing air.

“I knew you were special, Doll- I knew you were so far beyond self preservation- it borders pathetic” the saltiness of his precum trickle down your throat and you attempt to stomp your feet as your cries vibrate around his cock.

“Look at your hips moving baby,” he says, “You like this as much as I do. You're on my side. Even if you think you aren't.” Your hips are circling as if you're searching for friction along the chair as he groans. “Tell me you're on my side.”

He pulls your mouth off his cock and you breathe in deeply. You're coughing as droplets of spit run down your mouth. Spit and tears. Your face shows it all.

Your voice is hoarse. “I'm on your-”

“F-Fuck- I'm gonna cum-" He brings his cock back to your lips, “All over that pretty fucking face- fuck,” your tears fall as he strokes cock, emptying cock over you face. You keep your eyes shut, letting the sound of his pleasure-filled groans shoot straight to your puffy clit.

“I'm not letting you go,” his thumb moves over the cum coating your face. He moves his thumb past your lips, letting the cum seep into your mouth. Saltiness and need.

He needed you.

“You're not?” You ask petulantly, sucking on his thumb like you've regressed right before him.

“I'm not.” He confirms, “My little winner.”

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