#with a vag*na

[kingdaddydaichi]

Just wanna say I love him. 🤍 👑

[mirensiart]

I hope you at least get some proprr sleep tonight, sleep deprivation takes away braincells man 😔

In all seriousness though, did you at least have fun at the party? I've never been to one myself :/

Have as much of a great day as you can :D

I remember I used to pull like, so many all nighters back in college it was insane, but ever since I started working I am unable to function if I don’t get at least 6-7 hours of sleep lol, like I think of pulling an all nighter now and I feel like dying lmao so don’t worry I did nap today and I’m planning on going to sleep early too lol

It was super fun! As I said already, I can’t drink cause of my food intolerance (histamine intolerance my beloathed) so I’m always the designated driver lmao I know some people hate it but I personally don’t mind it, what I don’t like is when people keep offering me drinks like, I CANNOT DRINK 🫠🫠

bachelorette parties are very fun, at least where I live the idea is for all the female friends of the bride-to-be to get together and play sex themed games and talk about sex anecdotes lol it’s usual to decorate everything with d*ck themed stuff, which always makes me laugh cause like, as a lesbian that is the most d*ck I see ever lmao

and aah thank you! I hope you had a great day too!

[fellasleepinbaltimore]

I've never heard a brazilian say wagner and idk what I was expecting but it was rather underwhelming but still pleasantly surprising

[simplygojo]

The Cool Uncle Blurbs - JJK Men

author's note ⸺ Heyyy, so I have been told by a few of y'all that I need to write shorter blurbs, so this was my practice piece! Each character's blurb is about 1k each...writing something this short is so foreign to me, I am so used to having 8k minimums for school, so this may take practice! Please let me know if you like these shorter blurbs :)

pairings ⸺ Toji Fushiguro x reader; Satoru Gojo x reader; Kento Nanami x reader; Suguru Geto x f!reader

inspo ⸺ Inspired by some art by @clemenlush (linked here) that inspired me to write the JJK men as cool uncles, lol. Let me know if any of y'all want me to do another character!!

warnings ⸺ alcohol use, suggestive jokes, baby fever!, mention of baby-making!, reader uses female pronouns, reader presumed to have a vag!na, softboys & fluff

Requests are open! Please read the Request Guidelines before submitting a request <33

✧.* — TOJI FUSHIGURO — ✧.*

You glanced at Toji as he steered the car down the quiet, tree-lined street. The low hum of the engine was the only sound between you two, but that familiar weight of his presence filled the silence. He always carried himself with an easy confidence, a kind of quiet power that made him stand out without even trying.

“You don’t have to look so annoyed,” you teased, catching the subtle furrow in his brow as he pulled into Jinichi’s driveway.

Toji didn’t say anything at first, just smirked and glanced sideways at you. “I’m not annoyed,” he grumbled, though the slight tilt of his mouth said otherwise. “Just not exactly in the mood for the family dinner crap.”

You rolled your eyes.

Classic Toji.

“Be nice. It’s just dinner. You’re not walking into a fight,” you reminded him with a soft laugh, unbuckling your seatbelt. “And you know exactly how much your nephew adores you.”

That earned you a low chuckle as he cut the engine and slouched back in his seat.

“Kid's got good taste. I’m the only fun one ‘round here.”

You both stepped out of the car and as you made your way up the driveway, the front door swung open. 

Your brother-in-law, Jinichi, stood there, smiling at you both, but barely had the chance to greet you before the sound of hurried footsteps followed behind him.

“Toji-ojisan!”

A small, dark-haired blur darted past Jinichi and straight toward Toji. Before you could blink, Toji’s nephew had attached himself to his leg, looking up with wide eyes.

“Uncle Toji! You came! Are you gonna tell me more stories about when you were younger?”

Toji raised an eyebrow, smirking down at the kid, then cast a sidelong glance at you.

“See? Told you. I’m the fun one.”

You shook your head, trying to suppress a smile as Toji crouched down to ruffle his nephew’s hair.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get too full of yourself.”

“Already am,” he replied, deadpan, before turning his full attention to the kid.

“What’s up, brat? You been behaving?”

The little boy nodded enthusiastically, practically bouncing on his toes.

“Yep! I’ve been practicing just like you told me. Can we go to the backyard later? You gotta see my new moves!”

Toji stood back up, arms crossed as he exchanged a quick glance with Jinichi, who gave a knowing grin.

There was an unspoken fondness between them, though Jinichi didn’t say anything, just stepping aside to let you in.

Inside, the house was warm and inviting, the scent of homemade food already filling the air. You noticed Toji’s posture relax—just a bit—as you made your way to the living room.

His nephew stuck to his side like glue, constantly asking about everything from Toji’s workout routine to his old school stories.

Toji answered in his usual blunt way, never indulging the kid too much, but just enough to keep him hooked.

After dinner, you found yourself sitting outside on the back patio, watching Toji and his nephew go over some silly mock sparring moves.

The boy had his fists up, trying to mimic Toji’s stance, all while Toji lazily dodged the punches, not bothering to hide the amusement in his eyes.

You leaned back in your chair, and for a moment, it was like your heart swelled in your chest—three sizes too big, you thought with a smile.

It was impossible not to feel that warmth as you watched Toji with his nephew, his tough exterior softened just a bit in these moments.

He’d never admit it, but seeing him like this, in his own way, playing the doting uncle…it made you melt.

You could see it in the way his nephew looked at him, hanging onto his every word. And the way Toji engaged—aloof but present—it warmed something deep inside you.

“You’re such a softie, you know that?” you called out, your voice teasing but laced with affection.

Toji turned, still holding up a lazy guard, eyes narrowing playfully. “Yeah? How d’you figure?”

You gave him a knowing grin, folding your arms. “Look at you—out here entertaining him like you don’t enjoy it. Don’t act like you don’t love being the ‘cool uncle.’”

He straightened up, brushing his hands through his hair as he cast a quick glance at his nephew—who was too busy practicing his “new moves” on a nearby tree—to respond.

Then, with a smirk that made your heart skip a beat, he stepped toward you. “Maybe I am a softie,” he started, voice low, “but only for you.”

You blinked, a playful roll of your eyes as you went to respond—

“Though, I’ll tell ya, there’s somethin’ I’m neverr soft for...”

It took you all of two seconds to realize where he was going, but before he could finish the joke, you flicked him right in the forehead.

“Toji!” You scolded, laughing despite yourself.

He grinned, all too pleased with himself, as he rubbed his forehead.

“What? You’re the one who brought it up, sweetheart.”

“You’re awful,” you said, shaking your head, though the warmth in your chest remained. You could never stay mad at him, especially not when he was like this—so smug, so sure of himself.

“And to think I almost thought you were sweet for a second.”

He leaned down, one hand coming to rest on the arm of your chair as he hovered over you, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips.

“Almost, huh?”

You flicked his forehead again, but softer this time. “Don’t push your luck.”

He chuckled, leaning back and crossing his arms as he glanced toward his nephew, still occupied in his makeshift sparring match with the tree.

“Brat’s got a lot to learn,” he muttered, but you could hear the fondness there, the warmth beneath his tough exterior.

“Kid might be cooler than me one day.”

You smiled, shaking your head as you watched the two of them together.

“Not possible,” you said softly, though Toji didn’t hear it—or pretended not to.

Either way, in that moment, your heart was full. This was your life, and honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

✧.* — GOJO SATORU — ✧.*

Gojo’s fingers tapped rhythmically against the steering wheel as he hummed along to the radio, sunglasses perched—needlessly—on his nose despite the fact it was well after sunset.

You shot him a side-eye.

“You do realize we’re just going to Shoko’s for dinner, right? You’re acting like you’re about to perform on stage.”

He grinned, his lips pulling into that signature cocky smile.

“Aren’t I always the main attraction, though? Especially tonight. Her kid adores me.”

You snorted. “Yeah, because you let him climb all over you like a jungle gym.”

“Hey, I’m just providing the fun. I can’t help that I’m a natural favourite,” he quipped, glancing at you for emphasis before focusing back on the road.

“You say that like it’s a talent,” you teased, though the warmth in your chest grew as you thought about it.

It was hard not to love Gojo when he was like this—carefree, playful, and so naturally magnetic, especially around kids.

By the time you pulled up to Shoko’s house, you could already hear the muffled sound of laughter and conversation.

The front door creaked open before either of you could knock, and Shoko’s five-year-old son burst out, arms outstretched, ready to greet his hero.

“Gojo-nii!” The kid’s excitement was so pure, it was contagious.

Gojo’s grin only widened, and he crouched down to scoop him up in one smooth motion.

“Hey, champ! Been keeping things under control at this house? Your mom can be a handful…”

The boy giggled as Gojo swung him around effortlessly, his small hands gripping the fabric of Gojo’s coat. 

You stood back for a moment, hand still resting on the open passenger door, with a growing smile on your face.

Gojo’s childlike energy matched the kid’s perfectly, and it never failed to make your heart melt.

“He’s been waiting for you all day,” Shoko called from the hallway, rolling her eyes as she stepped into view.

“Good luck tearing him away from you tonight.”

Gojo set the kid down with a dramatic flair, straightening up and shooting a playful wink at you.

“What can I say? I’ve got that irresistible charm.”

“Careful, your ego’s showing again,” you quipped, nudging him as you all walked into the house.

As Gojo and the boy ran off to “catch up”—which likely meant some sort of wild chase through the living room—you found yourself watching from the kitchen doorway, arms crossed and heart swelling.

It always surprised you how soft Gojo could be, especially around kids. 

His usual swagger and bravado were still there, but he had a way of connecting with them that was genuinely sweet. It made your heart skip in ways you had never expected.

You smiled to yourself, shaking your head slightly as you watched Gojo give the kid a piggyback ride, the room filled with their laughter. 

Shoko came up beside you, handing you a glass of wine. 

“Never thought I’d see the day where Satoru Gojo is someone’s favorite jungle gym,” she commented dryly, taking a sip from her own glass.

You laughed softly, nodding. “Yeah, it’s weird, right? But he loves it.”

Shoko gave you a knowing look. “Does he? Or does he just love being adored?”

You grinned, letting out a short laugh before responding.

“Both. Definitely both.”

Later, after dinner, Gojo had somehow convinced the boy to show him every toy he owned, and you found yourself watching them again, heart swelling even more.

You didn’t know how, but every time Gojo was around that kid, you swore your heart was overwhelmed with admiration.

“You’re good with him, you know,” you said softly as you sidled up next to Gojo, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor, helping the boy assemble a toy robot. “It’s almost like you… enjoy this.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow, feigning offence. “Enjoy? What are you trying to say, love? You think I’m not the paternal type?”

You smirked, leaning down to whisper, “I think you love it, actually...”

Gojo leaned back slightly, crossing his arms and giving you a playful look. “Oh, I love a lot of things,” he said smoothly, lowering his voice.

“And most of them are when we’re not around a five-year-old.”

You blinked, realizing the meaning behind his words, and lightly smacked him at the back of his head. “Satoru!”

“Ow!” He pouted, rubbing the back of his head. “What? I’m just being honest.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting back a grin. “You’re the worst.”

“Actually…I’m the best,” he corrected with a wink, as the kid ran back to Gojo’s side, completely oblivious to the innuendo.

Watching Gojo with that playful smile and the way he effortlessly entertained the kid—who was still tugging at his sleeve to show him yet another toy—made you feel an overwhelming sense of warmth.

Sure, Gojo could be an insufferable flirt, but seeing him like this, so naturally connected and full of energy, reminded you why you loved him so much.

Even when he was being a ridiculous show-off, he had a way of making your heart burst with affection.

“Okay, okay,” you said, shaking your head fondly.

“Let’s see if you can at least try to behave yourself the rest of the night.”

Gojo stood up, stretching dramatically, and then leaned down to kiss your forehead.

“No promises. You know me—I always aim to please.”

You smacked him again, this time softer, as he flashed that signature grin of his and turned his attention back to Shoko’s son, who was already planning his next adventure with his “cool uncle.”

✧.* — NANAMI KENTO — ✧.*

The evening sky was beginning to blush with hues of orange and pink as you and Nanami made your way to your sister's house. 

The quiet hum of the car and the familiar scent of Nanami’s cologne made the drive feel calm, though you couldn’t help the tiny flutter of excitement in your stomach.

Family dinners were always nice, but this time there was a little extra something—your niece loved Nanami.

“I think she loves you more than she loves me,” you said playfully, turning to glance at your husband as he kept his eyes focused on the road.

Nanami’s lips twitched into the smallest of smiles.

“Hardly. She just appreciates that I bring her books.”

“Books, toys, puzzles, snacks—don’t act like you haven’t been spoiling her.” You teased, gently nudging his arm.

He gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug, but you could see the way his eyes softened.

“I just want to make sure she’s happy.”

You grinned.

It was the kind of answer you'd expect from Nanami—thoughtful, selfless, and with an unspoken affection that melted your heart every time.

It was hard to imagine anyone not loving him, really. 

As you pulled up in front of your sister’s house, you didn’t even have a chance to step out of the car before the front door swung open.

Your niece, a whirlwind of energy with messy pigtails and a huge smile, came racing down the path.

“Uncle Kento!” she squealed, her little feet pounding against the pavement as she made a beeline for Nanami.

He stepped out of the car just in time for her to throw her arms around his legs, hugging him tightly. Nanami looked slightly startled but quickly softened, crouching down to her level. “Hello, sweetheart.”

Her face lit up at his greeting, and she quickly started tugging him towards the house.

“Come on! I have to show you my new dollhouse! You’re going to love it!”

You watched them from a few steps behind, heart warming at the sight. Nanami—who always seemed so composed and serious—was completely wrapped around your niece’s tiny finger. It was an endearing contrast, watching the usually stoic man willingly get pulled into a child’s world of excitement and play.

By the time you reached the front door, your niece had already dragged Nanami inside, babbling non-stop about the dollhouse, the latest puzzle he bought her, and a new storybook she wanted him to read later. 

You exchanged a smile with your sister, who had appeared in the doorway, laughing as she watched her daughter commandeer Nanami's attention.

“He’s got the magic touch with kids, huh?” Your sister remarked, raising an eyebrow at you.

You chuckled, stepping inside. “She loves him. I think she’s ready to keep him all to herself.”

“Good luck getting him back,” she teased, giving you a playful nudge as you both headed into the living room.

Dinner was filled with easy conversation, laughter, and your niece proudly showing Nanami everything she could think of—her new school projects, her favorite toys, and even a drawing she had made “just for him.” 

He listened attentively, offering genuine praise, his voice calm but warm in a way that made it clear he wasn’t just humoring her. He cared.

You found yourself watching the two of them, your heart swelling with each small interaction. 

It was impossible not to smile, seeing Nanami, the man who rarely let himself relax, so at ease around your niece. 

Nanami had just finished reading her a bedtime story, and now she was fast asleep, curled up under the blankets with her favorite stuffed toy.

“She’s asleep,” he murmured softly, his hand brushing your niece’s hair away from her face.

You stepped forward, quietly gathering the blankets to tuck her in. “You’re really good with her, you know?”

He glanced at you, a faint smile on his lips. “I try.”

“No, really,” you said, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “She loves you. You’re her favorite.”

Nanami’s eyes softened at your words, but he didn’t say much more, his hand lingering on your niece’s small form for a moment longer before standing up.

The two of you quietly exited the room, letting her sleep in peace.

After saying your goodbyes to your sister and thanking her for dinner, you both made your way out to the car. 

The night air was cool, and the streets were quiet as Nanami opened the passenger door for you, his hand resting briefly at the small of your back as you slid into the seat.

The drive home was calm, with the rhythmic sound of the tires against the road creating a peaceful background hum. You glanced out the window, watching the city lights blur into soft orbs as they passed by.

Nanami was silent beside you, his hands steady on the wheel. There was something thoughtful in the way he held himself, a quiet contemplation that you could sense even without looking at him.

After a few minutes, he finally spoke.

“You know, I’ve been thinking…” You tilted your head, curiosity piqued by the sudden weight in his voice.

Nanami hesitated for a moment, his thumb tapping lightly on the steering wheel before reaching over to rest on your thigh.

“Of what I want,” he said, his voice a little quieter. “Of what we could have.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the implication behind his words, and you turned to face him fully, sensing where this was going.

“Kento…” You began softly.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” he continued, his gaze fixed ahead on the road.

“For a while now, actually.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you could feel your pulse quicken as the meaning behind his words settled in. He wasn’t just talking about your niece anymore.

“You’re talking about…” you trailed off, your voice barely above a whisper.

“A family,” he finished for you, his tone gentle but certain. “I want us to have a baby.”

For a moment, you just sat there.

You had always known that Nanami cared deeply, that he was serious about your future together, but hearing him say it like this, so plainly, so sincerely—it was something else entirely.

“You want a baby?” You repeated softly, your heart swelling with a mix of emotions.

He nodded, his eyes still focused on the road but softening as he spoke.

“Yes. I want to start a family with you. I’ve been thinking about it for some time, but… I didn’t want to pressure you.”

You reached over, gently placing your hand on top of his where it rested on your leg.

“You’re not pressuring me, Kento. I…” You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts.

“I want that too. With you. More than anything.”

When you finally pulled up to your home, Nanami turned off the engine and sat there for a moment, the faint glow of the streetlights illuminating his thoughtful expression. 

He turned to you, reaching out to cup your cheek gently, his thumb brushing over your skin in a way that made your heart skip.

“I mean it,” he murmured. “Whenever you’re ready. We’ll do this together.”

You leaned into his touch, your eyes meeting his with a warmth and certainty you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Well…I am ready now...” You said with a playful tone.

He smiled then—small, soft, and full of love—and leaned in to press a tender kiss to your lips, sealing the quiet promise you had both made tonight.

“Well then lets get inside.”

✧.* — SUGURU GETO — ✧.*

It was a peaceful evening, and the low hum of conversation filled the room, accompanied by the occasional clatter of building blocks. You sat cross-legged on the couch, watching as Suguru helped Utahime's son with his tower-building endeavor.

The little boy was fully engaged, eyes bright with excitement as Suguru gently guided his small hands to balance each block perfectly.

“Higher, Sugu! Make it taller!” the boy giggled, his enthusiasm filling the room with an infectious joy.

Suguru chuckled softly, his deep voice filled with warmth.

“Careful, we don’t want it to fall,” he murmured, adding another block to the structure with a steady hand.

His long fingers made the task look effortless, and the boy watched in awe.

You leaned back against the couch cushions, the sight of Suguru interacting with the child making your heart swell.

There was something about seeing him like this—patient, soft-spoken, so full of care. It was a side of him that you loved deeply, and it reminded you just how much of a natural he was with kids.

“You’re really good with him,” you commented, your voice a little more tender than usual as you admired the scene before you.

Suguru glanced over at you, the corners of his mouth lifting in a faint smile.

“He’s easy to please,” he said, turning his attention back to the boy, who was now clapping his hands excitedly as the tower grew taller.

“Still,” you said, watching the way the boy leaned into Suguru, clearly adoring him, “he’s obsessed with you. I’ve never seen him so attached.”

Suguru smirked, a playful glint in his eyes.

“What can I say? I’m just irresistible.”

You rolled your eyes at that, but your heart warmed anyway.

“Sure, sure. Let’s just hope you don’t break his heart when we leave.”

The boy turned to you, his face lighting up with joy. “Sugu is so cool, y/n! He’s gonna help me with my blocks forever!”

You chuckled, brushing a hand through your hair as you watched Suguru pretend to be serious.

“Forever, huh? That’s a long time, buddy.”

Suguru leaned down, lowering his voice conspiratorially as if sharing a secret with the boy.

“I don’t mind,” he whispered, his tone teasing. “As long as I get to build the biggest towers.”

The boy giggled, his eyes sparkling as he nodded enthusiastically. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight—it was moments like this that made your heart grow three sizes.

You leaned forward, nudging Suguru’s shoulder lightly.

“Admit it, you’re loving this.”

Suguru’s dark eyes flickered with amusement as he glanced at you, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Of course! What’s not to love?”

Before you could respond, the familiar sound of keys jingling outside the door caught your attention.

You glanced at the clock—it was just about time for Utahime to be home.

The front door creaked open, and Utahime stepped inside, looking a little worn out but smiling when she saw the scene in front of her.

“Looks like I missed all the fun,” she said, her voice carrying a mix of relief and gratitude as she took in the sight of her son sitting on the floor, still glued to Suguru’s side.

“Mama!” The boy immediately jumped up, running toward her with open arms. Utahime knelt down, scooping him up with a tired but happy sigh.

“Hey, sweetheart,” she murmured, kissing the top of his head. “Were you good for Suguru and y/n?”

“He was an angel,” you replied with a smile, standing up from the couch. “Though, I think Suguru’s the real hero tonight.”

Utahime chuckled, glancing at Suguru with an appreciative smile.

“I don’t doubt it. Thanks for watching him—both of you. I owe you one.”

Suguru waved her off, standing up and stretching his arms.

“No need. He’s a fun kid. We built the tallest tower yet.”

The boy wiggled in Utahime’s arms, looking up at her excitedly.

“Mama, it was so tall! Sugu’s the best!”

Utahime smiled down at him, her eyes softening. “I’m glad you had fun, sweetie. Let’s get you ready for bed, okay?”

As Utahime carried her son off to his room, you turned to Suguru, your hand finding his arm as you gave him a gentle squeeze.

“You were great with him tonight,” you said softly, your eyes full of affection.

Suguru gave you a warm smile, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your temple.

“I had fun,” he murmured. “But we should probably head out.”

You nodded, glancing around the apartment to make sure everything was in order. After a few minutes, Utahime returned, looking more relaxed now that her son was settled.

“Thanks again, guys,” she said, walking you both to the door. “I’ll definitely owe you one for this.”

“Anytime,” you replied with a smile, giving her a quick hug before stepping out into the cool evening air.

As you and Suguru made your way to his bike, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment settle over you. There was something peaceful about nights like this—watching Suguru be so gentle and kind, seeing how naturally he fit into the role of caretaker.

It stirred something warm and familiar deep within you.

Once you both stepped outside into the cool evening air, Suguru glanced at you with a smirk.

“You know,” he started, his tone laced with that unmistakable teasing charm, “playing with Utahime’s kid is fun and all, but…” He paused, raising an eyebrow as he reached for your hand. “I was thinking we should get home and get to some 'baby-making' ourselves… if you know what I mean.”

Heat instantly bloomed in your cheeks as you laughed, nudging him in the ribs. “Suguru!”

But before you could respond properly, Suguru swept you off your feet with ease, lifting you into his arms.

“What? It’s a solid plan, plus you're the one who kept saying I'm just sooo good with kids.” He grinned, peppering your face with soft kisses as he carried you toward his motorcycle.

“Put me down!” You laughed, but your protests were playful as Suguru’s kisses continued, light and affectionate, his breath warm against your skin.

“You love it,” he murmured between kisses, making you giggle even more.

With one final press of his lips to your forehead, Suguru set you down beside his motorcycle, the playful glint in his eyes still there.

“Now, let’s get home,” he said, sliding onto the bike and passing you your helmet. “We’ve got some important work to do.”

You rolled your eyes, still smiling as you climbed onto the bike behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

As the engine roared to life, you pressed your cheek against his back, feeling that same peaceful contentment wash over you once more.

And as you sped off into the night, the playful warmth of Suguru's teasing stayed with you, a reminder of just how lucky you were to have him by your side.

Author's Note II: Let me know your thoughts on these and lmk if you want me to do any other characters :)

LOVE Y'ALL

[idollete]

– 𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫.   ⋆ ˚｡ 𖹭

𝑤arnings: conteúdo exclusivo para +18.

ೀ ׅ ۫ . ㅇ atendendo a esse pedido; esteban!dilf e funcionário do pai da leitora; inspirada na música ‘older’ da isabel larosa; perda de virgindade; leitora meio femcel (lê-se completamente biruta das ideias), riquinha e mimada; manipulação (de ambas as partes); o esteban é meio escroto e a leitora também (aqui é cobra engolindo cobra); age gap; penetração vag.; sexo desprotegido (e nem pensem em fazer isso); daddy kink; corruption kink; size kink; uso de apelidinhos (‘boneca’, ‘bonequinha’, ‘chiquita’, 'princesa'); degradação (uso de ‘vadiazinha’); menção a chocking, praise kink (?); oral (masc.) e creampie; oral (fem.); fingering; dirty talk.

idollete’s typing… ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ. rsrsrsrsrsrs fui completamente influenciada pela diva @creads e me rendi ao kuku dilf também. also, essa história é o exemplo de um relacionamento nada saudável e que não deve ser seguido. só é permitido fanficar, tá bom, chicas?! also², eu me inspirei não só na música da isabel, mas no videoclipe, que também não deve ser romantizado. tudo que tem aqui é para propósito bucetisticos visse. also³, mesmo sendo primeira vez e tudo mais, isso aqui tá 0 romantismo (mim desculpem tô no cio quer dizer período fértil).

Quando você o viu pela primeira vez, você sabia que ele seria seu. 

Conheceu Esteban em sua festa de 18 anos. É claro que justamente no seu aniversário o seu pai convidaria parceiros de negócios, homens que você nunca havia visto ou conversado, mas que lhe cumprimentavam como se fossem familiares distantes se reencontrando. Ele não. Indiferente, o homem nem sequer olhou na sua cara durante mais da metade da noite. E é claro que isso te enfureceu, quem ele pensa que é, vindo até a minha casa, a minha festa, e não falando comigo? 

De longe, era possível perceber a postura desinteressada dele diante dos homens com quase o dobro da sua idade, que se gabavam por suas riquezas e posses. Esteban não poderia dar a mínima. Nascido em berço de ouro, nada daquilo o surpreendia. O que quer que eles houvessem conquistado durante a vida, Esteban já havia nascido possuindo. Por isso, não demonstrou um pingo de interesse, ou comoção, pela garota que o encarava a cada instante. Sentia o olhar queimar a nuca, mas ele era um homem ocupado demais e a sua atenção deveria ser merecida, não dada a qualquer um. Especialmente para mimadas como você. 

No entanto, para a ruína de Esteban, era impossível não ser magnetizado pela sua presença. Você chamava atenção por natureza, não precisava se esforçar para receber sorrisos e cantadas por onde passava. Como uma bonequinha, vestia-se com roupas delicadas, sempre com uma sainha, a clássica double flap rosinha claro e os lábios brilhando com gloss. Você era uma vista para os olhos e isso enfurecia o argentino, que te ignorava de propósito. Mas você estava disposta a tê-lo. E você sempre conseguia o que queria.

Foi preciso mudar de tática. Percebeu que Esteban não se curvaria às suas vontades como os outros garotos faziam. Não, Esteban era um homem e, para tanto, você precisaria de mais que uma atitude esnobe e alguns amassos no fundo de limousines. Você bancaria a boa garota até que ele cedesse. Visitava o escritório com a desculpa de que queria saber mais sobre os negócios da família, enganava a todos com a falsa postura atenta, disposta a ajudar qualquer um e até mesmo fazer o trabalho pesado – que você sempre pagava algum estagiário para realizar no seu lugar – para a surpresa de toda a sua família.

Por ser o braço direito do seu pai, Esteban passou a fazer parte do seu convívio. Ou melhor, você se inseriu na rotina dele. Quando estava ocupado demais para lhe ajudar, tudo que o seu progenitor dizia era “pergunta ao Esteban” e te mandava ir embora. Foi assim que você se viu fazendo visitas diárias à sala do Sr. Kukuriczka, como letreiro na porta indicava. A princípio, ele desconfiou da abrupta mudança no seu comportamento, esperto demais para cair no seu papinho. Sempre inexpressivo e soando entediado, ele te ordenava o que fazer. Nunca ajudava, ele mandava. E quando você errava – propositalmente em todas as ocasiões – ele te repreendia, bruto. “Eres una estúpida. Muévete, déjame hacerlo”.

Com o passar do tempo, ele parecia ceder, no entanto. Mais amigável a cada dia, até te elogia quando você resolve um problema – supostamente – por conta própria. Você o flagra sorrindo na sua direção, mínimo, mas estava lá. Te permitiu descobrir mais sobre ele; 31 anos, divorciado e pai de uma pequena de 4 anos. Dócil, Esteban se tornou um amigo. Ou era isso que ele queria que você pensasse. Enquanto te consolava, te envolvendo em um abraço e enxugando as suas lágrimas após mais uma briga com o seu pai, o argentino fingia interesse nos seus problemas, garantia que compreendia perfeitamente a sua raiva por não ter sido permitida a ir para Aspen no meio do semestre letivo, te acalentava, “pode chorar, chiquita, eu estou aqui”, mas te amaldiçoava por sujar o terno caro dele com toda aquela choradeira idiota. 

É justamente um desses momentos que dá início ao grand finale do seu plano. Estavam juntos na sala dele, você deitada na otomana de couro, encarando o teto ao passo que resmungava sobre mais um casinho fracassado da faculdade, ele te observava com o mesmo semblante neutro de sempre, meneando a cabeça vez ou outra, só ouvia o seu falatório interminável.

– Sabe, Kuku… – Você começou, se virando de bruços no pequeno sofá, balançando os pézinhos no ar. Parecia angelical, só parecia. – Acho que preciso mudar o meu foco. Mudar o ambiente, procurar alguém fora da faculdade e do clube de golfe. Acho que preciso de alguém mais velho.

Esteban sabia exatamente onde aquela conversa iria chegar e ele te permitiu continuar. Arqueou uma das sobrancelhas, como quem te pede para prosseguir. Te ouve, então, reclamar sobre como garotos da sua idade não sabem de nada, são imaturos e nunca atendiam às suas expectativas. Sobre como sempre quis um homem de verdade. O último comentário arranca um riso nasalado do argentino, incrédulo com o quão sonsa você consegue ser. 

– Isso é porque eles são apenas garotos. É o que eles fazem. – A resposta parecia resignada, quase te fez desistir da ideia, mas Esteban continuou. – Além do mais, garotas como você sempre dizem que querem um homem, embora nunca aguentem o que um homem de verdade faz. – Era completamente sugestivo e ele sabia. Tinha total consciência das implicações quando deixou a poltrona e caminhou até você, pairando sobre ti, imponente, com as mãos no bolso da calça social. – Então, o meu conselho para você, chiquita, é que continue com os mesmos playboyzinhos de sempre.

– Mas eles são tão chatos! – Birrenta, você argumentou. – Com todo aquele grude e melosidade, me chamando de vida logo depois do primeiro encontro. – Enrolando uma mecha de cabelo, fez uma pausa, fingindo ponderar algo, quando, na verdade, tinha todo aquele diálogo na ponta da língua. – Acho que preciso de alguém só um pouquinho mais frio. – Novamente, uma pausa, dessa vez para ensaiar uma timidez que nunca existiu em ti. – Tipo…Você. 

Com a cabeça levemente tombada para o lado, Esteban só pôde rir do teu teatrinho. Te mediu de ponta a ponta do corpo, tão pequena em comparação ao porte dele, a saia revelando um pouco mais das coxas diante da posição, os lábios rosados que faziam o pau dele pulsar por dentro da cueca. A destra te tocou o os fios, alisando-os, te fazendo ronronar baixinho, carente pelo toque dele, desceu até o queixo, segurando o seu rostinho, como quem está prestes a ensinar algo e precisa de bastante atenção.

– Não peça por algo que você não pode aguentar, boneca. – Soou como um alerta, quase uma ameaça tendo em vista o olhar sombrio que ele te lançava. – Além do mais, eu não curto pirralhas metidas. – Aqui estava o velho Esteban, sempre com uma forma de te degradar, a diferença é que dessa vez ele fazia com um sorriso no rosto. 

– Tenho idade o suficiente. – Dando de ombros, você se desvencilhou do toque dele, embora o seu interior desejasse por mais. – Eu nunca deixo eles me tocarem, sabia? – Felina, se ajeitava, colocando-se de joelhos sobre o estofado, ainda mais sugestiva na nova posição. – Não sinto vontade…

– Uma bonequinha intocável. – O olhar dele acompanhou o teu, que encarava o volume discreto paralelo ao seu rostinho. – E acha que eu sou o que precisa, hm? Para, o que?! Te deflorar? É essa a sua fantasia suja? Dar para um cara mais velho logo na sua primeira vez? Porque os moleques riquinhos que você anda não saberiam te tratar feito a vadiazinha que você é? – Estoico, Esteban permanecia te encarando de cima, nunca saindo daquela postura de superioridade, queria você se sentindo menor que ele, submissa.

Franziu o cenho e uniu os lábios em um biquinho manhoso diante da aspereza das palavras dele, chegando até mesmo a deixar um chorinho escapar, exibindo o melhor semblante magoado, como se a calcinha não estivesse ensopada só de ouvi-lo se referindo a ti dessa maneira. “Assim não”, foi o que você murmurou, piscando os olhos, dócil. Esteban imitou a tua expressão, cínico. 

– Qué? Quer que eu te diga que você é uma boa garota enquanto te faço carinho no cabelo, é isso? – A voz exibia um sarcasmo explícito, não disfarçava o tanto que gostava de estar naquela posição. – Quer que eu te elogie, que diga que você é a coisinha mais bonita que eu já coloquei os olhos? – Com a destra, pegou um punhado dos seus fios, sem puxá-lo, apenas pressionando, domando. – Ou prefere que eu te recompense por ser uma bonequinha tão boa quando conseguir levar o meu pau por inteiro? 

A verdade era que Esteban queria ser egoísta, queria te colocar de joelhos no chão frio e encher a sua boca dele, foder até te deixar com a garganta magoadinha, sem voz, assim ele não ficaria um bom tempo sem te ouvir sendo irritante. Fantasiava com o barulho dos teus engasgos, em como se curvaria sobre ti, prendendo o seu rostinho bonito contra o caralho teso, o nariz encostado na virilha. Pensa em como poderia gozar só com o brilho desesperado dos seus olhos, sem ar, rendida às vontades dele, arruinada para qualquer outra pessoa que não fosse ele. Mas ele não te daria esse gostinho, não seria mais um dos seus segredinhos para ficar na sua estante.

Não. Esteban queria te foder, tomar algo de ti que seria só dele. Que ficaria na estante dele. E não te dar nada em troca. 

O que ele não sabia é que estaria ainda mais arruinado uma vez que provasse de ti.

– Eu… – Com a voz quebrada, você tentou se aproximar dele, sendo impedida pelo aperto paralisante. – Eu…Quero você.

– E o que você quer que eu faça? Dímelo. 

– Quero…Que você me toque… – Em um falso acanhamento, suas mãos percorrem o próprio tronco, espremendo os seios por cima da blusa. – Aqui. – Mais atrevida, desceu até a barra da saia, apontando para as coxas. – Aqui. – Suspendendo o tecido, revelou a calcinha rendada delicada. – E aqui.

Esteban te queria e você sabia disso. Criou uma persona e se moldou em uma garota agradável para se aproximar, até que o tivesse na palma da sua mão, disposto a arriscar a carreira e todo o resto pelo gosto de ser aquele que te corromperia para sempre. Por isso, foi preciso muito esforço para esconder o sorriso viperino quando ele, de modo abrupto, te mandou levantar e se sentar na mesa dele. Queria vê-lo perdendo o controle. Faminto por algo que só você poderia dá-lo. 

Obediente, você se posicionou exatamente como ele mandou. “Tira tudo”, ele disse, “e senta com as pernas abertas”. E foi usando um terno impecável e certamente superfaturado, que Esteban se ajoelhou diante de ti no meio do escritório dele. O mesmo homem que te desprezou, havia caído perfeitamente no seu joguinho. 

Ali, exposta, sentiu seu ventre contrair em excitação e ansiedade pelo primeiro toque. Estremeceu sob as mãos dele quando as coxas foram agarradas e separadas ainda mais, para o agrado do argentino. Os lábios macios te beijavam a pele desde o ventre até a parte interna da virilha, os dentes arranhavam contra a derme sensível, marcando com a língua e saliva, deixando um rasto que você não esqueceria jamais.

Seu interior pulsava em necessidade, fazia o melzinho escorrer e molhar todos os papéis importantes deixados na superfície de vidro. A língua contornou o sexo encharcado, lento e suave, te provando e provocando, deslizou desde o clitóris até a entradinha virgem, arrancando gemidos dengosos de ti. As palmas enormes se fecharam ao redor das suas coxas, te mantinham paradinha enquanto a boca te devorava. 

Não havia nada de casto no jeito com que Esteban te chupava. Não, ele fazia uma bagunçava, esfregava a ponta do nariz contra o pontinho sensível, babava toda a barba com o teu líquido e te lambia com gosto. Sabia exatamente o que fazer e como fazer para te ter derretida, rebolando contra o rosto masculino em busca de mais contato, de, enfim, ser saciada. 

Observou quando Esteban se afastou apenas para que pudesse envolver um dos próprios dígitos com a saliva, levando-o até o buraquinho que piscava para ele, pensou em como o seu gosto ficava ótimo na ponta da língua dele, mas essas eram palavras que você jamais ouviria. Rodeando o canal estreito, o argentino te encarava intensamente, assistindo todas as suas reações para os estímulos, sem desviar nem mesmo quando o dedo passou a deslizar por entre as paredes, sentindo o pau pulsar ao te ver tão tontinha daquele jeito.

Um filete de saliva escapava do cantinho dos lábios, as bochechas estavam coradas e o peito subia e descia, ofegante. Ouviu quando ele rosnou, ainda que baixo, ao sentir o quão apertada você era, imaginando como seria a sensação quando ele te enchesse. Embora os dedos fossem largos, não se comparavam ao estrago que o pau dele faria. Então, Esteban te preparava, mamava o clitóris inchadinho enquanto o dedo ia e vinha na buceta ensopada. 

– Tão bom… – O chiado escapou dos seus lábios sem que você sequer percebesse. – Esteban… – O chamado saiu quando um outro dedo deslizou pelo seu interior, te fazendo contrair violentamente. – Você…

– Tsc. Será que você tem uma bucetinha tão carente assim que só um pouco de atenção é o suficiente para te deixar com essa cabecinha vazia? 

Um polegar agora fazia movimentos circulares contra a região sensível, fazendo você se molhar ainda mais para o homem, sendo alargada agora por três dígitos. Os movimentos te entorpeciam, faziam os dedinhos do pé contorcerem e os quadris perderem o controle, empurrando-se contra o punho alheio. 

– Você está se fodendo na minha mão, boneca. – Não era uma pergunta. Esteban estava constatando em voz alta somente para te humilhar mais um tanto. – Mas acho que eu deveria esperar isso vindo de uma virgenzinha feito você… – Ele queria te chamar atenção, perguntar onde estava aquela atitude boçal de sempre, mas o jeitinho patético que você ficava desesperada por pica o distraía completamente dos seus objetivos.

A formigação no seu ventre indicava que um orgasmo estava próximo, te arrancando suspiros em deleite, sem se importar com o barulho que fazia ao chamar o nome do argentino como em uma prece devotada. Com os lábios entreabertos e o cenho franzido, você gozou no que parecia ser o momento de maior euforia da sua vida, sentindo todo o corpo arrepiar e estremecer. Se sentia tão leve quanto uma pena, poderia se considerar vitoriosa naquele momento, havia conseguido o que queria de Esteban e agora poderia seguir em frente para a sua nova obsessão do momento.

No entanto, pareceu congelar no lugar ao abrir os olhos e vê-lo envolvendo o caralho duro com uma das mãos, enquanto a outra desfazia o nó da gravata, deixando-a de qualquer jeito no tronco. Seu olhar queimava na extensão, a pontinha rosada estava coberta em pré-gozo, que Esteban espalhava até a base, o interior pulsou novamente, se sentindo abandonado de repente. Você queria mais. Queria sentir tudo aquilo te enchendo, te tomando.

O argentino se aproximava lentamente, se colocou entre as suas pernas, envolvendo-as ao redor do próprio corpo, te fazendo sentir a dureza contra o pontinho sensibilizado. Por impulso, você avançou nos lábios dele, mas Esteban não permitiu que o beijo acontecesse, exibiu um sorriso perverso diante da sua fraqueza e acenou em negação. 

– Sem beijos, princesa. – Ele claramente se divertia com aquela situação. – Garotinhas mimadas feito você não merecem beijo. – Mas ele te provocava, falava rente aos seus lábios, permitindo que eles quase se encostassem. – Precisam aprender a ouvir não, você precisa de alguém que te coloque no seu lugar.

Os sexos, por sua vez, estavam em seu contato mais íntimo, pele com pele. Você sentia as veias contra os lábios separadinhos com a fricção, observou quando Esteban cuspiu na própria mão, envolvendo o caralho com a saliva, deixando mais fácil, molhado, sujo, “Mas não se preocupa, não, tá? Eu vou te foder até você aprender direitinho”, ele pontuou quando esfregou a cabecinha na sua entrada, “Relaja…”, te acalmou, se mantendo naquela provocação, “Vai ser boazinha e levar tudo que o papai tem pra te dar, né?”. O apelido fez os seus olhinhos brilharem, o que não passou despercebido por Esteban, notando a sua cabeça acenar freneticamente, necessitada dele como nunca antes.

– Você é tão suja… – Ele te distraía com beijos e mordidas no pescoço. – Ficou animadinha assim porque gostou do que eu disse, foi? Quer me chamar assim, eh?

Retraída, você concordou. As bochechas esquentavam e ganharam um tom ainda mais corado, perdida no próprio prazer, sentiu quando a pontinha foi pressionada no seu interior, soltando um murmúrio doído quando foi, pouco a pouco, preenchida pelo homem. A lentidão era tortuosa, cada centímetro era sentido, de modo que um chiado cheio de manha escapou, tentando se acostumar com a invasão. 

Esteban te acariciava os seios, envolvia os mamilos com a língua, te dando mais estímulos para suportar a ardência. Estava molinha nos braços dele, entregue, os sentidos à flor da pele passeando entre os limites da dor e do prazer. O argentino sussurrava no pé do teu ouvido o quanto você era apertada, mas que era tão boa em recebê-lo, que ele poderia passar horas dentro de ti. Vulnerável também, ele se encontrava entorpecido, dominado pelo tesão. Agarrada ao tronco dele, você suspirou quando as virilhas se encontraram, aliviada. 

– Você é tão grande. – Revelou, apoiando a cabeça no ombro masculino. – Tá me deixando tão…Cheinha. – O tom manhoso era o suficiente para enlouquecer o homem ainda mais, desesperado para se afundar em ti e te deixar cheia não só do pau dele, mas da porra também.

Quando a dor começou a dar lugar para o prazer, seu corpo passou a buscar mais daquele contato, remexendo o quadril lentamente, descobrindo o seu próprio prazer também. 

– Essa é a buceta mais gostosa que eu já comi. – A voz masculina saiu abafada, grogue. – Tá sentindo, né? Como eu te deixo estufadinha de pica. – Riu nasalado contra o teu ouvido, te arrepiando quando deslizou um pouco para fora, somente para entrar em ti de novo. – A princesinha da família levando pau pela primeira vez na vida bem debaixo do nariz de todo mundo.

Esteban passou a repetir os movimentos, entrando e saindo do seu interior, até que os seus chiados ficassem mais e mais necessitados e a sua buceta babasse ainda mais pelo pau dele, pulsando freneticamente. Ele havia te arruinado. Com um único movimento, o argentino meteu em ti de uma vez só, arrancando um gritinho fino dos seus lábios, que logo se transformaram em gemidos e murmúrios desconexos quando o quadril dele ia e vinha com maestria. 

Sua coluna arqueava a cada investida contra o interior apertado, tentando se segurar ao que podia diante da força das estocadas e o impulso que Esteban pegava para que foder do jeito que ele sempre quis. Com a cabecinha áerea, você se viu chamando-o, “papai”, uma, duas, três vezes, ouvindo um grunhindo em resposta, aumentando a intensidade dos movimentos, mais selvagem, sedento. Você o havia arruinado.

O que havia começado como um joguinho de egos, parecia se findar naquele momento. Nos corpos suados que se entrelaçavam, nas palavras sussurradas, nos gemidos que escapavam, nas mãos que se agarravam, no encontro dos desejos. Mas o que vocês possuíam estava longe de terminar, porque embora os caras mais novos não fossem nada iguais a Esteban, ele acaba de perceber que você não era como nenhuma outra mulher também.

Ambos estavam arruinados e condenados um ao outro para sempre.

[tai0miemi]

For you, my favorite moralists♡

Caution! The topic of dark content, transophobia (as it seems to some), double standards and hypocrisy

English is not my native language, I express myself as best I can, OK?

This post is dedicated to all the freaking moralists who, because of fake characters, bully real writers and people who read what they like.

Are you worried that a child/teenager will see inc*st/r*pe topics, but for some reason you think it's okay not to put tags in works where there are trans people?

The authors of dark content set an age limit in bold text, write a bunch of tags and warnings so that your delicate brain does not deteriorate, at the same time as the authors writing about trans!reader × character or trance!character does not put anything at all most often.

I'm tired of you. I don't want to read the work and in the middle realize that a female reader has a d*ck. I don't want to read a work where a biologically male character turns out to have a vag*na. PUT IT DOWN. FUCKING. TAGS. So that people can just block you and not read it.

I'm not opposed to your writing, I just don't like it and that's okay. We're all different people and we like different things. However, I am fed up with moralists that in every tag that they do not like they make a tragedy of universal scale and then humiliate the authors who write it while they do not care about such a topic with trances. Seriously? Do you think that if a child sees these works, then it's ok? If you're against it, then you're fucking hypocrites. Leave the authors of dark content alone.

And here's another thing. I really "like" when they write "mention of female anatomy" in job warnings. Hmm, I wonder who it is? I don't even know if this creature is called a WOMAN. And leave your comments about the sex change, an artificial hole between the legs is not a biological vag*na, OK?

Do not write comments, do not like or reblog. This post was made with the sole purpose of attracting attention and adding kirosine to the fire♡

UPD: Thank you all for promoting the discussion, thanks to you, as many people as possible will see the post!

UPD2: You can call me transophobic all you want, but your brain missed the point of this post. No matter what you say, you have no right to poison other people just because you personally don't like something. Trans people is a specially chosen topic so that you can look at yourself from the outside, how stupid you sound from the outside. Congratulations you got caught :P

UPD3: For fans of protecting trans people: Do you think that no one has an injury related to this? Maybe a person made a sex change and regretted it, maybe someone was raped by a trans person and for them this is content that they want to avoid. However, you protect some, and wish death to others.

You are shifting responsibility for the crimes to the authors. Much more innocent things can encourage a person to commit crimes.

I sincerely believe that no matter what dirt a person writes, if it does not go beyond fan fiction, then everything is fine. The harassment of authors is much worse than any violence in literature!!

[memewhore]

vag-EYE-na

[wetjuicysuck]

The best way to Sμck a woman vag!na is what?💦💦

[safije]

Any dumbass who can afford a microphone is making podcasts these days. I saw that guy from the Whatever podcast say women are privileged because we get asked out and complimented more..

No Kevin, I don't think the heroin addict and the guy who smells like pee at the bus stop asking for my number is a privilege. A lot of the attention women get is UNWANTED and I know that's hard for you males to believe because many of you would jump at every chance to stick your willy in any vag!na, but we prefer to be more selective because we just aren't that horny.

[mrsjavierpena]

Teenage Dream | pedro pascal x actress!reader

series summary: you always knew you were meant to be in hollywood; it was one of your biggest dreams since you were a teenager. to confirm your believes, you get to make it come true beside the man you've always had a crush on from afar. one of your biggest teenage dreams is already in motion, guess it's time to persue the other.

rating: 18+

prologue warnings: mention of masturbat*on

series warnings: age gap (25/48); eventual smut (will be warned every chapter); mature language; anxiety; fluff; angst; sexual tension; slow burn; reader is a female and has a vag*na.

A/N: first of all, english is not my first language, so there might have grammar issues (lmk if its something outrageous so i can fix it pls) this is the prologue of a series i really have no ideia where is going!!!!!!! imma be writing what comes to my mind - im always open for suggestions so feel free to message me! i have no update day for now because if i pressure myself to write this ill never finish it and i also have to conciliate this with college, so pls be patience (but no worries with encouraging messages, it motivates me to write knowing that someone cares hehe) if someone wants to be tagged in every update, just lmk!

edit: guys, just to let you know, im not updating this for a while, im focusing on other projects and unfortunately this will have to wait, but someday it'll be back! i guess that's it, let me know if you enjoy it! thx for reading :)

You remember the first time you saw him as if it was yesterday.

HBO was broadcasting the first episode of the fourth season of Game of Thrones and the sixteen-year-old you, being a huge fan of the show from the beggining, were thrilled to find out how the season would go. Little did you know.

The man of your dreams appeared in a yellow robe, with a sassy attitude and scenes that had you touching yourself at night when finally alone.

You became nearly obcessed with Pedro since that day; following religiously every step of his career, watching everything he was in, dreaming about him during your whole teenagehood.

Eventually, you moved on with your life; had to, you had another dream to persue. You set a path: college, some boyfriends here and there, cast auditions almost every week, shitty jobs with shitty people until you finally - finally - got to get steady as an actress.

You hadn't had you 'boom' yet. During the last three years, you and your agent slowly built your name, starting from bellow, getting small parts in popular shows, some small movies in your curriculum... but you were good. Anyone that worked with you could see that, specially the last director you worked with.

And that's how you got there. The fucking leading role in a fucking big production. With fucking Pedro Pascal as your co-star.

One of your biggest teenage dreams is already in motion, guess it's time to persue the other.

[my-castles-crumbling]

I have a question cas. 

trans women say they’re women because they are a women, they’re body just doesn’t reflect that… I guess? 

but terfs say that a women isn’t a women unless the body shows that- eg, uterus. 

so either terfs are trying to tell trans women that what they finally know about themselves, that they’re a women, is just not true because they say so? or that a women is only defined by her uterus.

cause that doesn’t feel very feminist. 

i’m not thinking of becoming a terf or anything, trans women are women- i’m not fucking rishi sunak or jkr, but like, what is their argument? I know it’s wrong but what ACTUALLY is it? Cause you’d think, given most of them are so proud to be terfs, they’d have a definition?

so what is it? i’m confused. I know there’s no need to make sense of these people but why?  

Hi! I'm gonna address this point-by-point. Also, TW: discussion of transphobia, genitalia, etc.

I have a question cas. 

trans women say they’re women because they are a women, they’re body just doesn’t reflect that… I guess? 

Yeah, to put it simply. Trans women are (usually) assigned male at birth and sometimes start out with male genitals. There are exceptions to this (intersex people). And some trans people, of course, choose to get surgery.

but terfs say that a women isn’t a women unless the body shows that- eg, uterus. 

Yeah, that tends to be the usual argument. There's more to it, but yeah.

so either terfs are trying to tell trans women that what they finally know about themselves, that they’re a women, is just not true because they say so? or that a women is only defined by her uterus.

Both. They insist that trans women are mentally ill or perverted, and that a woman is defined by her uterus and genitalia. Which is so wrong, because not all people with XX chromosomes or assigned female at birth even have those things.

cause that doesn’t feel very feminist. 

HALLELUJAH! SAY IT FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK!

i’m not thinking of becoming a terf or anything, trans women are women- i’m not fucking rishi sunak or jkr, but like, what is their argument? I know it’s wrong but what ACTUALLY is it? Cause you’d think, given most of them are so proud to be terfs, they’d have a definition?

so what is it? i’m confused. I know there’s no need to make sense of these people but why?  

Basically, from my limited knowledge on the subject, terfs argue that to be a woman, you have to have XX chromosomes, have a uterus, a vag*na, etc. You have to have been raised as a woman and experienced womanhood (whatever the fuck that means).

It's a lot of bullshit. I think it's based on a few things:

Fear. A lot of terfs are very uneducated and assume trans people are actually cis men trying to assault cis women or take away from cis women in some way.. Which is obviously so wrong. trans women are just women who want to live their lives.

Ignorance. Again, terfs are uneducated and don't understand what it means to be trans. They also don't understand their own arguments and the fallacies in them: not all people with XX chromosomes, for example, have uteruses.

Transphobia. A lot of people see being trans as very taboo, and don't want to be associated with it or accept it. So of course, they don't want trans women as a part of the feminist movement.

This is a stretch, but I also think it has to do with sexism. Stay with me here, but terfs see trans women as men, right? (They're not, but just stay with me). And when men do feminine things, it's always SO deeply frowned upon. Because how DARE someone AMAB act feminine. It's seen as disgusting. Men need to be men- protectors, not emotional, not weak (yes, I know being fem isn't weak, but from their POV...). SO I think it's actually deeply-ingrained sexism as well, if that makes sense.

I hope that helps a bit! It's a horrible, horrible mindset, and the fact that JKR promotes it is so upsetting, tbh.

[una-lobita-sad]

Entre gem¡dos

y aliento agitado

salen despavoridas

sus maldiciones.

Con palabras blasfemas

gime las alabanzas a mi lengua

que en medio de sus p¡ ēr nas

la hacen tocar el cielo.

Y el vaivén de mis dedos

bailan bajo el aguacero

que provoco con mis caricias

en la rigidez de su cl¡ to r¡s inquieto.

Se aferra a las sábanas,

a mi cabellera,

y sus piernas a mi cuello se abrazan.

En sus caderas el oleaje de

emociones se sacuden,

en mis labios recibo el

rebalse lascivo de sus en. trā ñās.

Y sin piedad los puñales de

mis dedos se hunden

extasiados por sus ganas.

Y verla sufrir de esa manera

no me basta… Y en cuatro,

en la orilla de la cama, empinada

y abr¡ endo sus nāl gās

lamo de arriba abajo,

escu po y chu po,

mi lengua inconforme

busca profanar su c ū l 0.

Y se estremece aún más

con unas fuertes nāl .gā das.

Se autoproclama mi p u tā

y el tropiezo de su respirar

no le impide gritarme que quiere más.

Y se lo doy,

de su desesperado calor

yo soy su amo y su señor.

Mi éxtasis es saber que conmigo

es con el único que pierde su control.

Pero antes del estallido de su or gās mo,

justo allí en el límite de su eró t¡ co caos,

sus cabellos se vuelven la rienda

de mi cabalgar y sus labios reciben

el castigo de mi palp¡ tan te f ā l 0.

Hasta desvanecer su conciencia,

hasta acribillarla con el bombardeo

de m¡ s ē .m ē n blanco,

hasta lacerar sus paredes

vag¡ na .les con mi espeso látigo.

Si, soy un mald¡ to animal

y en cada encuentro se lo ratifico.

[fellasleepinbaltimore]

I've never heard a brazilian say wagner and idk what I was expecting but it was rather underwhelming but still pleasantly surprising

[idollete]

– 𝐛𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬 & 𝐡𝐢𝐦   ⋆ ˚｡ 𖹭

𝑤arnings: conteúdo exclusivo para +18.

ೀ ׅ ۫ . ㅇ atendendo a esse pedido; enzo!maridinho; enzo!dilf e pai de menina; sexo desprotegido (pero no puede, chiquitas); penetração vag.; breeding kink; termos em espanhol (‘tan desordenada’ - tão bagunceira; ‘dame eso’ - me dá isso); uso de apelidinhos ('princesa', 'bebê', 'anjinho'); masturbação (masc. e fem.); fingering; menção a creampie (?); muita melosidade, romance e palavras no diminutivo; size kink (?).

notas da autora: se enzo vogrincic me dá esse sorriso eu faço QUALQUER COISA que ele me pedir, irmãs, eu não responderia por mim

– Cálmate, tesoro…Foi só um pesadelo, shhh. Eu estou aqui agora.

Encostada na porta, observava com encanto a cena de Enzo acalmando a pequena de vocês, sorrindo ao ouvi-lo cantarolar uma canção de ninar em espanhol, colocando-a para dormir novamente. Antes que explodisse de amor ali mesmo, seguiu em direção ao quarto, suspirando frustrada ao observar a pilha de roupas a serem dobradas e guardadas. O que, com toda certeza, ficaria para o dia seguinte, porque tudo que você precisava agora era de um bom banho de banheira. 

Foi se despindo e largando as roupas espalhadas pelo chão do quarto, deixando uma trilha para trás em direção ao banheiro. Colocou a banheira para encher, aproveitando para acender algumas velas aromáticas, deixando o cômodo com um cheirinho aconchegante de baunilha e na água despejou sais de banho de lavanda. Depois de escovar os dentes e fazer uma skin care rápida, não perdeu tempo e logo já estava imersa em meio às bolhas, sentindo todos os músculos relaxarem. 

Soltou um gemido baixinho em deleite, fechando os olhos e apoiando a cabeça em uma das extremidades do acrílico. Enzo, atraído pelo aroma já familiar, foi até o quarto, não evitando o riso ao reparar na tua bagunça, tan desordenada, foi o que ele murmurou, recolhendo todas as peças e deixando-as no cesto. No banheiro, sorriu mais afetuoso ao admirar o teu semblante calmo, quase pegando no sono. 

– Cabe mais um aí, princesa? – O sussurro te despertou, te fazendo abrir os olhos e sorrir para o uruguaio. 

Você assentiu, chegando o corpo para frente para que Enzo se aconchegasse ali. Observou quando ele se despiu, correndo o olhar rapidamente desde o rostinho com um semblante cansado até o físico atraente, deitou a cabeça nos joelhos, com uma expressão bobinha de amor, o sorriso travesso de quem não negava o quão apaixonada era. Quando ele entrou, se aninhou ao peito masculino, sendo enlaçada pelos braços em um aperto delicado, a presença dele te deixava ainda mais leve, você se sentia segura, apreciada, amada. 

As mãos te acariciavam desde os ombros até as coxas, tua postura encolhida fazia com que Enzo pudesse sentir cada parte de ti nele, nessa troca de calor confortável, envoltos em uma bolha própria, onde nada mais existia ou importava, a não ser a existência um do outro, íntimos em um nível que transcendia o aspecto físico. Você, por sua vez, acariciava a lateral das pernas do uruguaio, arrastando de levinho as unhas contra a derme, sem arranhar de verdade, mas causando um arrepio gostosinho no homem. 

O tempo lhe fez sentir a necessidade de ter os corpos unidos de uma forma diferente, do jeitinho que dava o encaixe perfeito. Por isso, se virou, ficando cara a cara com o marido, sorriu miúdo antes de abrir os braços em direção a ele, ganhando um sorriso mais largo como resposta, aquele que fazia as covinhas aparecerem e que te fazia querer gritar um tiquinho, feito adolescente, porque Enzo era perfeito demais para a sua mente aguentar. 

– Quer colo, é? – Teu jeitinho manhoso mexia com ele do mesmo jeito, deixava bobo, fazendo ele se perguntar como deu a sorte de acabar como uma mulher como você. – Vem aqui, vem, meu anjinho. – Te puxou para pertinho, te colocando com as pernas ao redor da cintura, agarrada a ele feito um coala.

– Por favor, a gente pode ficar assim, tipo, ‘pro resto da vida? – Perguntou, abraçando-o e repousando a cabeça no ombro alheio, inalando o cheirinho do xampu que tanto gostava. 

– Não me tenta… – Ameaçou, brincalhão. – Se dependesse de mim, eu já tinha te levado para o meio do nada, passaria o dia todo de chamego contigo. 

A ideia te fez suspirar, sonhadora. Encarou a expressão do uruguaio, acariciando as madeixas escuras, fazendo-o respirar fundo, relaxando diante do carinho. Se aproximou até que os lábios se tocassem em um selinho demorado, as mãos de Enzo percorriam a tua cintura até o quadril, alisando a pele macia das tuas nádegas, não era completamente sexual, só queria te sentir. Foi ele quem aprofundou o contato, no entanto, deslizando a língua para dentro da sua boca, iniciando um beijo calmo. 

Movida pela saudade, você grudou os corpos, espremendo os seios contra o peitoral de Enzo. Arrancou um sorriso do uruguaio quando, distraída, rebolou sobre o colo dele, sutilmente se esfregando contra o membro semi-ereto, embora cansada, teu corpo sempre reagia quando era tocado daquela maneira. O ósculo se tornava cada vez mais babadinho, causando estalos molhados em meio aos arfares que soltavam. Se separaram somente quando o ar se fez necessário, ambos agora ofegantes e com as bocas vermelhinhas, sorridentes. O olhar que recebia era de pura afeição, os lábios lhe envolveram o seio, selando, mordiscando e sugando, toda a pele era revestida pelos afagos do homem.

Sua mãozinha desceu até encontrar o pau mais endurecido, segurando pela base até a pontinha em movimentos vagarosos, fechava o punho contra a extensão, arrancando gemidos arrastados de Enzo, o cenho franzido entregava o quanto gostava do toque. Ele levou a palma até o seu íntimo sensível também, esfregando os dedos longos contra o clitóris, circulando a área e espalhando o seu melzinho até a entrada apertada, deslizou um dígito, depois outro, gentil, te preparando para levar o caralho grosso. 

– Enzo… – Você chamou, dengosa, quando a necessidade se tornou insuportável. 

– Shhh. Eu sei, eu sei, princesa. – Sussurrou terno, te acalmando. Foi ajeitada com delicadeza sobre o colo, sentindo a cabecinha pressionar o caminho estreito. – Vou te dar o que você quer. 

Lentamente, Enzo te fez descer sobre todo o comprimento, pouco a pouco preenchendo a buceta que latejava em excitação, te arrancando um ofego, fechando teus olhos. O olhar dele estava vidrado nas tuas expressões, te encarava com toda a admiração que carregava no peito pela mulher que tinha. Te puxou novamente para um beijo repleto de paixão, mantendo o teu corpinho grudado ao dele quando começou a empurrar o quadril contra o teu, era lentinho, preguiçoso, não tinham pressa para acabar, desfrutavam um do outro. 

Você se segurava nos ombros masculinos, subindo as mãos pela nuca e agarrando o cabelo cheinho, fazia um cafuné e recebia beijos castos sobre todo o rostinho, no pescoço, no colo, te arrancando uma risada boba. Abriu os olhinhos diante da explosão de afeto, se derretendo com o sorriso que o uruguaio te dava, você é tão lindo, sussurrou, sentindo todos os seus pelinhos arrepiarem quando rebolou contra no colo do homem, a posição te permitindo esfregar o botãozinho carente contra a virilha alheia. 

Enzo te fazia se sentir completa quando estava dentro de ti, não só porque ele te deixava estufadinha, alargando todo o caminho, mas porque, desde o princípio, ele sempre pareceu saber fazer a coisa certa para te levar ao paraíso. A maneira como movia o quadril com precisão, atingindo aquele pontinho que te fazia arquear a coluna e estremecer, como as mãos sabiam exatamente onde e como apertar.

Tentava ao máximo se manter de olhos abertos, só pelo prazer de ver as expressões de Enzo, ou encontrar o olhar de adoração, sentir as orbes clarinhas admirando cada uma das suas curvas, fascinado. Se sentia vaidosa, desejada. Acompanhava os movimentos aos poucos, enquanto o uruguaio metia em uma lentidão deliciosa em ti, você rebolava contra ele, espremendo a buceta ao redor da dureza, entorpecida pelos vários estímulos.

– Te quiero, te quiero, te quiero. – Enzo repetia com devoção, a doçura com que falava contigo tornava o sentimento praticamente palpável, você o sentia no ar, dentro de si, no teu peito acelerado, na forma que ele te olhava. A intensidade do olhar aumentou, te hipnotizando com o castanho das íris. – Quero fazer outro filho em ti. – A revelação te pegou desprevenida, mas o seu interior revirou em um misto de paixão e excitação. – Deixa, hm? Quero te deixar cheinha de mim, colocar os meus filhos todos aqui. – Te tocou o ventre com uma mão, acariciando a região. – Dame eso, cariño? 

Sua mão alcançou a dele, entrelaçando os dedos, não sabia ao certo dizer se era o prazer ou a emoção do momento, mas teus olhos se encheram d’água, dominada pelos sentimentos que enchiam o teu peito da mais pura euforia.

Você assentiu, dando a permissão que Enzo tão docemente te pedia, grudando as testas, repetiu o quanto o amava, se entregando ao momento e deixando que ele guiasse ambos até o clímax, sentindo todo o cansaço se dissipando do teu corpo, porque tudo que você precisava para relaxar era de um pouco de bolhas, velas e ele.

[bxrbiesstuff]

So we all know a basic b*tch with a loose vag*na who apparently went to the void to manifested for all of us

Yes I am talking about @miisstuff

Yk what we got scammed again by one another attention seeking hoe and the worst part is that she's an Indian bitch and so we all fingered her to the top and trusted her but guess what she is still any other random ass privileged tumblerhoe who is craving for attention soo much that she puts polls for posting her success story.

Even if we leave all the lies she told, she still has a mind full of cum caused by sucking all the dic*k she gets her privilage from which resulted her to take out her creativeity and manipulation skills of all the void state aspirants who are genuinely struggling with a hard life

So she apparently manipulated all of us to give her our names and delayed her days as much as she can just to enter a "meditative state" where she has already been to?

I don't know who's s*ut you are or you are one of those slu*s who already got canceled for sucking interracial dic*s but get a life instead of using overused comebacks of the highschool musicals from the 1980s.

[misspjsuperior]

They call her “Vag!na Mary” even tho “Vulva Mary” would be more anatomically appropriate.

But for the past ten years I’ve called her Maria Rosa, ever since she came out of me in my first year in El Pueblo de Nuestra Señora la Reina de los Ángeles (aka LA). Today I walk with Her upon my body through Dutch gothic cathedral gardens on some various errands. So much has happened in these expanses of time and distance between here and now and there and then across the incredible gamut of tragedies and miracles alike.

The divine (sometimes seemingly absurd) mysteries like that of Maria have saw me through the whole way. I’ve survived vibrantly after having writhed on the thresholds of ruin, poverty, chronic illness, post traumatic stress. Despite it all there is also joy, friendship, beauty, and as much good luck as bad, strengthened by cunning and bravery. Many changes. The only constant is change.

After all this time and new creations I still got Maria tapestries etc for others too but how may you lay claim? Be bold enough to holler at me to get what I got. Don’t be afraid to let me know what you desire. 🌹