lazysoulwriter

[lazysoulwriter]

you strip for him like he owns the air you breathe ── .✦

smut · dom!pedro· power dynamics · stripping (reader performs)·

You didn’t expect him to just… sit there.

But he does. Slouched in the chair, thick robe gaping open, white briefs doing nothing to hide how hard he is already. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move.

He just watches.

And that’s the worst part. Or the best.

Because his gaze is heavy. Dark. Hungry. And you feel it like heat on your skin — every time your hands glide over your own body, every time you drag that strap off your shoulder slower than necessary, every time you roll your hips just to see if he reacts.

He doesn’t.

But his cock twitches, and that’s all the confirmation you need.

“Take off the bra,” he finally rasps. “Nice and slow. Let me see what’s mine.”

You do.

And he groans.

“Fuck. Look at you.”

You reach for your panties next, but he stops you — voice firm, eyes sharp.

“No. Crawl here. I’ll do it.”

Your breath stutters. But you obey.

You drop to your knees and crawl to him, heat pulsing between your legs, every nerve in your body lit up with the way he looks at you like you’re dinner and he hasn’t eaten in days.

When you reach him, he cups your jaw.

“You know what gets me off?” he whispers. “Not the way you strip. Not the way you moan.”

You blink up at him, panting. “What, then?”

“The fact that you’d do anything I say,” he growls. “That you like being my good fucking girl.”

Then he rips your panties down and makes you ride him, slow and messy, robe pushed off his shoulders, his hands gripping your waist while he fills you to the hilt, whispering mine over and over into your mouth like a fucking prayer.

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

[lazysoulwriter]

your page got me giggling and kicking my feet and shit🤭🤭🤭 like for real twirling my hair and blushing over this stuff <3333

hihihi thank youuuu 😭💖 that’s literally the best compliment everrr

[lazysoulwriter]

I love your writing it’s always so good! So happy to have found your blog!

thank you, sweetheart! i’m so happy you found me here! <3

[lazysoulwriter]

just gonna leave this here.

[lazysoulwriter]

i-

[lazysoulwriter]

OH. MY. FUCKING. GOD.

[lazysoulwriter]

woke up wanting this man so bad i might throw up

[lazysoulwriter]

stay close - pedro pascal ── .✦

requested! thank you. content: explicit smut, established relationship, sleepy summer sex, lace lingerie, soft dom!pedro, needy and affectionate, praise, gentle asking, cockwarming turning into slow love-making, intense emotional connection

The fan hums softly, spinning uselessly above your bed.

It’s summer in LA. The kind of heat that lingers in your bones. You’re half-asleep on the cool sheets, barely covered, chest rising slow and soft. Pedro’s behind you, wide awake and suffering.

Not because of the heat. Because of you.

You’re wearing that new set you tried on earlier — black lace, barely-there, the kind that wasn’t really made for sleeping but you insisted anyway. “It’s too hot for anything else,” you mumbled, already climbing into bed.

Now here you are. Back pressed against him, your ass snug against his thighs. One strap slipped off your shoulder. Your hips shifting every so often in your sleep, dragging that sweet curve over the very obvious problem in his boxers.

Pedro groans quietly into the pillow.

He wants you.

No—he needs you. Just to feel close. Just to have you wrapped around him, even if it’s slow. Even if it’s quiet. Even if all he gets is a little of you, half-asleep and pressed up against his chest, breathing softly while he stays buried inside you.

He leans in and kisses your shoulder. Soft. Careful.

You stir just a little, humming.

“Baby,” he whispers, voice like gravel. “You awake?”

“Mmm… kinda.”

His hand drags slowly over your waist. He presses a kiss behind your ear, lips warm and needy.

“Can I… stay inside you?” he asks, barely above a breath. “Not fuck. Not yet. Just—be close.”

You blink, still half-lost in sleep, but the way he says it makes your body ache. He sounds so tender. So full of want.

“Yeah,” you whisper, reaching back to touch his hip. “Yeah, baby. Come here.”

He pushes his boxers down, carefully tugs your panties to the side. Takes his time. Just the tip of him sliding between your folds has him exhaling like it’s relief.

And then he’s inside. Slowly. Deeply. Filling you with a low moan that makes your whole body shiver.

You gasp softly. “Pedro…”

“Shh,” he murmurs, kissing the nape of your neck. “Just like this. You feel so fucking good. So warm. Let me stay.”

His hands grip your hips, not to thrust — just to hold. To anchor himself in the sweetness of you.

But the longer he stays buried in your heat, the harder it gets to hold back. You’re clenching gently, body responding even in your daze, and he can’t help the way his hips start to roll. Slow. Deep. Intimate.

You moan.

“Wanna make love to you,” he whispers, breath shaky. “Let me. Please.”

And you nod, already melting for him.

What follows isn’t fast or rough. It’s needy. Soft kisses. Slow strokes. His hand slipping under your lace bra to thumb over your nipple. His mouth on your shoulder, your jaw, your cheek.

“So beautiful,” he pants. “So fucking perfect for me.”

You come with a whimper, pressed into the mattress, body trembling around him as he follows seconds later — groaning your name like it’s the only thing that ever mattered.

After, he holds you even tighter. Still buried inside. Still connected. Still needing to be as close as possible.

You whisper, half asleep, “I love you.”

And he kisses your shoulder again, whispering, “I’ll never get enough of you.”

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

[lazysoulwriter]

UR SO DAMN AMAZING!!! i’m new here and i read the pedro pascal one and then TATE? RAFE CAMERON? oh lord

WELCOME, HONEYYYYYY

[lazysoulwriter]

sweet on you. - pedro pascal ── .✦

requested! thank you. content: pure fluff, chef!reader, established relationship, food is love, pedro is obsessed and well-fed.

---

Pedro always knows when you’ve been in the kitchen.

It’s the smell first — something warm, sugary, or slow-roasting, something that makes his stomach rumble before he even sets down his keys. Then the sound — your playlist playing, quiet clinks of pans, the occasional little hum of a song you like.

And finally: you.

Usually barefoot. Hair tied up. A smudge of flour on your cheek or chocolate on your wrist. You’re always mid-something — stirring, whisking, plating — and you light up like sunlight the second you see him.

“Try this,” you say tonight, holding out a spoon before he can even say hello.

He opens his mouth obediently, lets you feed him like he’s your very favorite customer. “Mmmph—what is that?”

“Caramelized onion and goat cheese tart,” you say proudly. “I’m testing it for that new brunch spot.”

He moans. Actually moans. “Marry me.”

You smirk, grabbing his jacket and tossing it over the chair. “Already did, cariño.”

“You’re right.” He kisses your forehead, then the tip of your nose. “Best decision I’ve ever made.”

You roll your eyes but your smile betrays you.

It’s always like this. You’re always making something. Cookies, sauces, stews, late-night pancakes. And Pedro? He’s your taste-tester, your number-one fan, the guy who leans against the counter watching you like you’re magic.

Because to him, you are.

You feed him love in every bite. You show it in flavor and texture and sugar dusted on his lips. And every time he tells you he loves you, it’s followed with, “and also that muffin—what the fuck, baby.”

Tonight, he sneaks behind you while you’re icing cupcakes and wraps his arms around your waist.

“You gonna keep feeding me forever?” he murmurs into your neck.

“Long as you keep taste-testing.”

He presses a kiss to your jaw. “Then I’ll never leave.”

You laugh, leaning back into his chest. “That’s the plan.”

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

---

taglist: @sarahhxx03 @lloydmustache @lolareadsimagines @greenwitchfromthewoods @silksepia @pascalswiftie @itstokyo-cos @mani-pedro @llsister @authorbriannarae13 @introvrtedjellyfish @aj0elap0l0gist @spencercmlover @cixrosie @cherrqbaby @cup-half-full-of-anxiety @joelmillerpascal @freakbobcult @sunlightpleasure @mooniscrying @ohnaurshayla @croissantbakerylws @nellispunk @kasienka @taylorswiftsrep-blog @emerencedaily @byzyz @noovaarq @kristend512 @alltounwell @libbyaller @beaagiannelli @broad-shouldrs @oceanmcu @kysosa @melloispunk @jollycupcakeblizzard @angvlicsoulll @needz1nk @daddypascal17 @agustdpeach @mrsbilicablog @k4t13ispunk @hotdadlvr95 @lnnysnts @pedropascalfan221 @queenofklonnie22 @christinamadsen @ilovecheriies @stvr-bloom @m4yb3-k3tlyn3@umadirectioner@barnes70stark

[lazysoulwriter]

write a lot today m'sorry (there's more)

[lazysoulwriter]

tell me everything. - pedro pascal. ── .✦

requested! thank you. ♡ content: Pedro Pascal x wife!reader, gossip boyfriend behavior, chaotic spoiler-sharing, domestic bliss, soft rambling love, he’s obsessed with her and can’t shut up.

—

He didn’t even say hello.

Just burst through the door, dropped his bag by the couch, and walked straight to the kitchen where you were chopping garlic like a woman with a plan.

“Babe. BABE. I have to tell you what happened on set today—”

You turned, knife in hand. “Didn’t you sign an NDA?”

He kissed your cheek, mid-babble. “Technically, yes. But you’re my wife in my heart so legally I feel covered.”

You laughed, stepping aside so he could flop onto the barstool like an excited puppy. “Okay. Spill.”

And he did.

Forty-five minutes of non-stop Pedro Pascal chatter, complete with bad impressions of co-stars, dramatic reenactments of behind-the-scenes chaos, and about six major plot twists you were definitely not supposed to know.

“Wait,” you blinked, “she dies?”

Pedro gasped, wide-eyed. “You CAN’T tell anyone I said that.”

“You just said it.”

“I know but I trust you.” He grabbed your hands. “This is a safe space. A Pedro-approved gossip zone.”

You shook your head, smiling. “You’re so bad at secrecy.”

“I’m great at secrecy. I just choose not to keep secrets from you. Because I’m in love with you. And because you always listen.”

You slid a plate of pasta in front of him. “You’re lucky I do.”

He twirled his fork dramatically. “Also, I told the director that if I die in the show, I demand it be slow and cinematic. Like, emotional and full of rain. Maybe a violin.”

You leaned on the counter. “Do you think they’ll listen to you?”

“No. But I’ll be annoying about it.”

You giggled.

Pedro grinned at you over his fork. “God, I missed you today.”

“You saw me this morning.”

“And yet! A drought. My soul withered.”

You rolled your eyes and leaned in to kiss him. “Shut up.”

He kissed you back. “Never.”

And you didn’t want him to.

—

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

—

taglist: @sarahhxx03 @lloydmustache @lolareadsimagines @greenwitchfromthewoods @silksepia @pascalswiftie @itstokyo-cos @mani-pedro @llsister @authorbriannarae13 @introvrtedjellyfish @aj0elap0l0gist @spencercmlover @cixrosie @cherrqbaby @cup-half-full-of-anxiety @kellyxo1 @freakbobcult @sunlightpleasure @barnes70stark @mooniscrying @ohnaurshayla @croissantbakerylws @nellispunk @kasienka @taylorswiftsrep-blog @emerencedaily @byzyz @noovaarq @kristend512

🐻‍❄️ྀིྀི

[lazysoulwriter]

eyes on her. - pedro pascal.

requested! thank you. ♡ content: Pedro x actress!reader, red carpet setting, public relationship, established couple, soft obsession, internet thirst, proud boyfriend energy, fluff with intense sexual tension.

---

It wasn’t their first red carpet together — but it was the first one where your name was in bold letters on the marquee behind you.

Your movie. Your moment.

Pedro had offered to let you walk alone, give you the full spotlight. He knew how hard you’d worked for it. But the second he saw you step out of the car in that dress — elegant, backless, sculpted to perfection — any idea of playing it cool went right out the damn window.

You posed with confidence. Poised, graceful, your smile soft but powerful. A woman completely in her element.

And Pedro? Pedro stood just off to the side, jaw slack, pupils dilated, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek like he was holding back a feral groan.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath.

You glanced at him, already laughing. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“I can’t,” he whispered, hand reaching for your waist as you turned for another round of photos. “You look like a fucking goddess.”

The flashbulbs were relentless. You turned and smiled, did the practiced poses, but every few seconds your eyes flicked to him — and he was still staring. Devouring. Like he couldn’t believe you were real. His hand hovered at the small of your back the whole time, barely touching, just enough to make you feel grounded.

Someone in the crowd shouted, “Pedro! Look at her like you love her!”

He didn’t even blink. “I do.”

—

The photos hit Twitter within minutes. And the internet did not survive.

📸 Pedro Pascal at the [movie title] premiere, looking at his girlfriend like he wants to frame her and hang her in the Louvre. 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

“He’s not looking at her. He’s worshiping her.” “I’m sorry but if my man doesn’t look at me like Pedro looks at her, I don’t want it.” “Pedro Pascal stans HER and I stan HIM for that.” “You just know he was whispering filth in her ear between shots.”

You didn’t even open the full feed — just scrolled past enough to blush and toss your phone facedown on the hotel bed. Pedro caught a glimpse over your shoulder and smirked.

“Internet’s losing it, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. “They think you’re obsessed with me.”

He stepped behind you, arms wrapping around your waist, voice rough at your ear.

“They’re right.”

And when you turned to kiss him, hands tugging at the lapels of his suit, you knew — for all the flashing lights and all the eyes on you — his were the only ones that ever really mattered.

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

[lazysoulwriter]

banned for love crimes - pedro pascal ── .✦

content: fluff, party chaos, established marriage, Pedro is that husband, wife!reader is just as bad, truth or dare gone off the rails, makeout corner energy

---

Sarah’s living room is packed.

Music low, drinks half-full, people spread out on pillows and couches in that classic we’re grown adults but playing a party game anyway vibe. Truth or Dare has made its way around a few times — some harmless, some ridiculous — and then it lands on Pedro.

He grins like a man with a plan.

“Dare,” he says smoothly, already leaning toward you with mischief in his eyes.

Someone across the room rolls their eyes. “Please don’t—”

“I dare my wife,” he announces proudly, “to kiss me.”

You burst out laughing as the room groans.

“Pedro,” Sarah sighs, “you literally live with her.”

“And yet,” he says, tugging you closer, “I’ll never get tired of it.”

You shrug. “A dare’s a dare.”

And then you’re kissing him, soft and warm and maybe a little longer than necessary. When you pull back, his eyes are still closed, like he’s savoring it.

The bottle spins again.

A few rounds later — after someone’s eaten a weird combo of mustard and marshmallows — it lands on you.

“Truth or dare?”

You lock eyes with Pedro.

“Dare.”

He straightens up immediately, hand already raised. “I dare you—”

“NO,” Sarah snaps. “Pedro. Stop.”

“What??”

“You can’t keep daring her to kiss you!”

“It’s romantic!” he protests.

“It’s abuse of the game rules,” someone mutters.

Pedro sighs dramatically. “Fine. We’ll sit out.”

And that’s how you both end up in the corner of the room — him sitting back against the wall, you between his legs, arms around each other like horny high schoolers, quietly making out while everyone else continues playing.

Sarah glares at you halfway through her own dare. “Can you not tongue each other while I’m doing this?”

Pedro, completely unbothered: “Nope.”

You giggle, kissing the corner of his mouth. “We’re banned, remember? Outlaws now.”

“Truth or dare?” he murmurs, lips brushing yours.

You smirk. “Dare.”

“I dare you,” he whispers, “to keep kissing me until someone yells again.”

You do.

Someone does.

Neither of you stop.

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

---

taglist: @sarahhxx03 @lloydmustache @lolareadsimagines @greenwitchfromthewoods @silksepia @pascalswiftie @itstokyo-cos @mani-pedro @llsister @authorbriannarae13 @introvrtedjellyfish @aj0elap0l0gist @spencercmlover @cixrosie @cherrqbaby @cup-half-full-of-anxiety @joelmillerpascal @freakbobcult @sunlightpleasure @mooniscrying @ohnaurshayla @croissantbakerylws @nellispunk @kasienka @taylorswiftsrep-blog @emerencedaily @byzyz @noovaarq @kristend512 @alltounwell @libbyaller @beaagiannelli @broad-shouldrs @oceanmcu @kysosa @melloispunk @jollycupcakeblizzard @angvlicsoulll @needz1nk @daddypascal17 @agustdpeach @mrsbilicablog @k4t13ispunk @hotdadlvr95 @lnnysnts @pedropascalfan221 @queenofklonnie22 @christinamadsen @ilovecheriies @stvr-bloom @m4yb3-k3tlyn3@umadirectioner@barnes70stark

[lazysoulwriter]

hii! just wanted to check in and give you your flowers! 💐

it's always a delight reading your works! they are super sweet and beautifully written. thank you for sharing them with us 🫶🏾💓

hii angel!! 🥺 thank you so much for the kindness, truly! i’m so happy to know you enjoy what i write, it makes sharing it feel so special.

[lazysoulwriter]

clingy ghost problems - tate langdon ── .✦

requested! thank you. content: angst-tinged fluff, needy!Tate, established relationship, soft possessiveness, clingy behavior, oblivious reader

---

He’s been following you around the house for the last thirty-five minutes.

Not saying much. Just… hovering.

Like a shadow with feelings. A blond, emotionally repressed, slightly murderous shadow who wants nothing more than to be held.

But you don’t seem to notice. You’re distracted — phone in hand, laundry on your arm, a playlist going, talking about some new show you started. And Tate? He’s just there. Watching. Waiting.

He bumps into you in the hallway. You laugh. “What are you doing?”

“Walking,” he says flatly. “Same direction as you.”

You don’t question it.

In the kitchen, he opens the fridge after you and closes it without taking anything. Then he sits at the table and stares at you while you scroll. You glance up and smile at him.

“You good?”

He nods.

But he’s not good.

His fingers twitch. His heart’s heavy. His mouth wants to say come here but something inside him makes it stick to his tongue instead. So he watches. Quiet. Frustrated.

Eventually, you get up to go do something else. Probably nothing important. But you walk right past him. Again. No hug. No lap time. No couch cuddles. And it’s killing him.

He lets out a dramatic sigh and flops back into the chair.

“Are you mad at me or something?”

You pause at the door. Turn. “What?”

He shrugs, not looking at you. “You haven’t touched me all day.”

Your brows raise, caught off guard. “Tate— I’m not mad at you.”

“You sure?” he mumbles. “Because it kinda feels like you’re punishing me.”

You blink at him. “Baby. What are you talking about?”

He finally looks up. Eyes big, lashes dark, mouth all pout.

“I just… I want you to cuddle me,” he says, voice quiet and sharp like a paper cut. “You haven’t even looked at me like you missed me today.”

You cross the room in two steps, heart cracking.

“Oh, Tate,” you whisper. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know— I wasn’t ignoring you, I swear.”

He doesn’t say anything as you wrap your arms around his shoulders — but the way he melts into you instantly tells you everything.

“I just want you to need me like I need you,” he says into your neck. “Even when I’m annoying. Even when I’m too much.”

“You’re not too much,” you say, running your fingers through his hair. “You’re just... very Tate.”

He lets out a tiny laugh, and you press your lips to his temple.

You pull him to the couch after that, curl up with him tangled all around you like ivy. He clings like he’s afraid you’ll vanish again.

You don’t.

Not for the rest of the day.

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

[lazysoulwriter]

i get so excited when i see you've changed for pfp, makes me curious to see what's next

always a crazy woman! (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)