#silva strange way of life

[mjpens]

Happy pride month from me and the canon-queer Pedro boys! 🏳️‍🌈💚

[iamasaddie]

THREE RANDOM SILVA GIFS

+ bonus

[morallyinept]

Pedro Boys & Sex Sounds

Clearly, I have thought about this waaaay too much. Thoughts. Thots? Head canons… I dunno what this is. Lack of an actual life? 🤔 Quite possibly.

But I hope you get a giggle out of it nonetheless. 🖤

☝🏻I'll mention that this is probably NSFW... it's kinda tame-ish, but just incase.

Joel Miller - Grunter.

Joel is a rabid grunter. Oh yeah. Grunts, snarls, snorts, you name it. But he's not infected. You're safe. Just sounds likes he is when they roll and rumble out of him. Right in your ear so he makes sure you can hear what you do to him, darlin'. Joel's also a bit of a goer. He can last pretty good. But due to his advancing years, he can soften quickly, but he stays harder for longer if you're on top grinding onto your big guy. Then he gets to look up at you and those grunts, man. They just snuffle endlessly out of his nose and into your face as you lean forward to kiss him. Overuses the word 'fuck' when he comes. Fuck yeah... Fuck baby... Fuck. Fuck... So fuckin' good... Fuck, you're killin' me, darlin'... Fuck! Fuck darlin'... FUCK! And so on. Absolutely no clicking involved. Unless it's from turning the vibrator on.

Frankie Morales - Stammerer. 

Frankie moans a lot. Makes all manner of ungodly noises when he sucks his fingers clean, licks his lips, nips on your neck… Hums in abject satisfaction at a job so well done. Grizzly, hungry moans roll up from the back of his throat. Frankie likes to be close up in your face watching as he pulls orgasm after orgasm out of you. Frankie's a hella attentive lover (hail the pussy eating king 👑) that he wants to know what feels good for you. Wants to learn your body controls and dials, and all those things that make you propel for him as he makes you fly. That feel good, hermosa? You like that? Yeah, look at you taking my cock like that… Fuck, I can't get enough of this pussy. Frankie can be a bit of a talker during sex, but is nowhere near as annoying as Ezra. When Frankie comes, he stammers in both clumsy English and Spanish inflections as he forgets what dimension he's in for a second or two. May need to be flown out. Standby, pilot.

Ezra - Rambler.

Ezra won't shut the fuck up. Even when doing the nasty. We all know that Ezra likes to talk and he'd be as equally vocal in the sack. He wants to tell you what he's going to do to you in sordid detail. Then will tell what he's doing to you, as he's uh, doing it to you in sordid detail. You get a full blow by blow - if you'll forgive the pun - of your fuck session. With subtitles. He can be soft too, this man is multi-faceted like Aurelac gems. When he's gentle, he's like descriptive poetry; sweet and candescent and all about your pleasure. He's a connoisseur for filthy, dirty talk. Ezra says all the right, rancid, disgustingly perverted things in your ear between gritted teeth. He's also a growler. He'll grunt too. Lots of swears will flow out of him really fast like garbled gibberish as he comes. Fuckfuckfuckshit!OhKevvashitahfuckohshitohshotohshit! Almost like he can't believe it's happening, bless him. I mean, it's been a while, stranded on The Green...

Marcus Pike - Huffer.

Marcus fogs your eyes up with those breathy huffs like the Little Engine That Could. Marcus is a leg twitcher. A leg tenser. Either way, when he comes his leg tightens or stiffens. Or breaks. Easy there, bud. Marcus tenses right up and does a little shudder. If he's jerking off solo, then that leg rises up a little and bends at the knee. If it's a hard orgasm then his knee might even click with the strain. Those little breathy moans chug and puff from his nose regardless. And you can bet he'll get a cramp in his leg too if he's going at it for a while. Has to switch positions regularly because of it. Not caused by an injury; the guy just gets too fucking excited that parts of his body just lock up. This guy is the maestro of making love. He'll prefer to spend hours fawning over you rather than quick fuck sessions. Because he's so husband like that.

Oberyn Martell - Hummer. 

Exhibitionist Oberyn wants everyone to know that he's taking you to pleasure town. Groans. Whines. Grunts. Even hisses like a viper. Can be a little nasally as he breathes, and when he comes he almost gasps. Eyes roll into the back of his head with the pleasure of it all. Neck cords strain and he may even pull out a croon-like laugh of satisfaction as he watches you come undone as he spills that sumptuous, bastard seed inside you. Screw the Iron Throne, the only throne you need is this man's face. He'll give you that smarmy eyebrow arch as you come down because you both know he just utterly fucked your shit up. And so does everyone else in the brothel. Que the applause.

Javier Peña - Hisser.

We all know what Javier Peña looks like when he fucks (thank you very much Narcos 🥲). Javier bears his teeth when he fucks hard. Growls and grunts. Pants and moans. Small, pitched whines will flow out between his teeth and curled lips as he comes. He's a jolter too. Hips will jolt and twitch into you as he empties. Thighs will jerk. When he's making love and not fucking, and there is a difference, cariño, Javier's breaths are more laboured, controlled. More nasally sounding and deep. You'll hear them in your ear as he kisses and licks around them. He'll utter Spanish obscenities delicately to you in that soft, gravelly tone that haunts your blood. He could be telling you how to parallel park for all you care. Either way, it sounds utterly delicious. Oof.

Marcus Moreno - Panter. 

Marcus is in pretty good shape from fucking up supervillains on the daily, so when he gets his sexy on, he hardly breaks a sweat. 💪🏻But he does pant. Gentle, raspy pants that flutter into your mouth as you swallow them down like powerups. He'll moan around your lips because you feel so good squeezing him like that; he'll barely last much longer as he tightens on your hips to control your pace. The embarrassment of losing a life if he comes too soon isn't worth it. This gentle daddy knows how to rock your world and take you to new heights.

Dave York - Grunter.

Dave can be a talker when he's in the mood to play dirty and has the time. More often than not though it's a quickie in the shower before the girls are up, or late at night when he comes home after moonlighting as a murder daddy under your nose. He'll climb into bed next to you and he can't sleep. So he'll slip inside you and wake you up as he's grunting softly inside your ear and growling gently as you turn to kiss him whilst he plunders deeper. He presses his mouth hard against yours to quell your moans and whines so the girls don't wake up. When he comes, his jaw locks, he grinds on his teeth and growls out between them. His eyes close and he won't open them until he's fully empty. He often falls asleep almost immediately afterwards as he's satiated - and fucking exhausted from living a double life. 

Dieter Bravo - Wheezer.

Dieter likes to know it feels good for you, and also likes to tell you how good you feel around his cock. Most of the time he's high, so sex is a whole ethereal experience. Sometimes he's even present for it. Lots of oh wows and fuck yeahs mutter out of him. He's quite chill, his hips do most of the work but he can tire easily so likes you to take the reins and ride. Partying hard is catching up with Mr Bravo. But he lives for sex of the kinky variety. It's weird and he likes it. But when he comes, his back tenses and he fists the sheets or whatever he can squeeze at the time. Dieter wheezes like he's out of breath, particularly after a hard session. It's all the shit that he smokes on the regular. He'll also hack up a bit afterwards, coughing into the pillow as he tries to catch his breath. Be trained in CPR and adrenaline injections, just in case.

Agent Whiskey - Crooner. 

Another talker. That feel good, darlin'? Let me see you. Eyes on me, sweet thing. Christ, look at you. So fucking gorgeous, darlin'. That's it now, work it. Like that. Aw hell yeah, like that. Ride it, baby! Who can resist that smooth cowboy, huh? Whiskey will always be smirking around those wet, moustached lips as he watches you fall apart and coaxes you through it. He moans softly with lots of yeahs thrown into the mix. He's a true Southern gent; likes to make you feel good. Likes to know he's making you nut. He'll make mince meat outta your insides. Then when he comes, he likes to tell you, naturally. Oh, you got me shakin', baby. I'mma need to calm down for a sec. Fuckin' Christ. 

Din Djarin - Panter.

When Din has his helmet on, you hear his breath whooshing fiercely against the inside of it. The modulator will only increase the gravelness of his breathing and make it louder. Like holding a shell to your ear and you can hear the ocean? Yeah. He crashes over you like thunderous waves. On the rare occasion that Din removes his helmet, he bears his teeth, bites down on his lip (and yours too as he lets it go with a squelchy pop) as he comes hard and whines out in a squally, panting moan that fills the Razor Crest. Luckily, Luke is babysitting The Kid. Sex with Din is like surround sound. You hear every delicious noise he makes. This is the way, mesh'la. 

Pero Tovar - Grunter. 

Pero fucks likes he eats - like he never will again. Fast, clumsy and handsy. A little bit of the animalistic about him. He needs the release, but needs you to release first. His partner always comes first, despite his less-than-gentlemanly ways at times. Grunty, deep breaths bounce up from out of his ribs, almost like he's wheezing. When he comes he growls and mutters incoherently. Words literally fail him as his jaw goes slack and his body flops over onto yours as he pants into your face, and it takes him a moment to remember where he is and that his supper is still waiting for him. Pero is a man that always goes back for seconds. 

Maxwell Lord - Screamer.

Max takes the only position for the guy who is most likely to holler and actually scream louder than you do when he comes. Makes loud, high pitched cries and pants that sound faster and more garbled the closer he gets towards blowing his load. The excitement in him just comes out, he can't help it. He'll pant and clutch at his invisible pearls as though he can't believe the audacity of you riding hard on him. Mouth open, starry eyes and wails rising in tempo. This would-be supervillain has been well and truly subdued. He loves every second of it though. Especially when you lasso him up with rope. 

Comandante Veracruz - Murmurer.

Controlled breaths. Slick smirks. Deep pants. Veracruz is a man in charge that knows what the fuck he is doing to you as he drives deep and ploughs you into the sweaty mattress in his jungle hideout. Favourite position is probably the mating press or from behind. The man likes it deeeeP. He's a smarmy bastard even when he's fucking. Taunting. You want this cock, baby? You want more, hmm? When Veracruz comes he shudders; the veins in his arms and wrists tense. You bet those cords in his neck pop too, pow, pow! Growls, bears his teeth and presses his clammy forehead into yours as he empties. Then softly murmurs into your face that you're his and only his, menacingly. But you love it. It's called Stockholm Syndrome, sweetheart.

Silva - Silent. 

Silva doesn't need to make any noise at all. All that escapes is a small, ragged breath that catches in the back of his throat, that you barely hear, ebb out of him. Doesn't mean he's not enjoying it by not being vocal - this wild gun is absolutely loving it - but more so that he's completely lost in the awe of how good you're making him feel right in that moment. Stunned and drowning in euphoria. Lips part with a silent groan, just the barest husk escapes him as he edges closer to the drop. Then a small grunt as though he's clearing his dry throat, and a soft nasal whoosh is heard when he finally lets go and finds his way back to you. 

Javi G - Giggler. 

Javi G giggles when he comes. Don't try to tell me he doesn't. Sometimes he can't stop and you end up tittering with him. I mean, sex is supposed to be a little funny, right? Even when he jerks off alone, a little giggle slips from his lips; it just feels too fucking good not to smile and chuckle like he's five years old and just discovered his junk for the first time all over again. During the act, sweet Javi G is all up in your grill wanting to know how good it feels, hermosa. Searching into your eyes as he moves and shifts to get deeper inside you. Adjusts how he touches you. Watching for your reactions and giving you more of the things that make you appear like a cross-eyed mutt he wants to pet. Javi G is a feeder - he wants to feed you the utmost pleasure. And then giggle incessantly like a little girl when he finishes inside you. 

🖤

[softiedingo]

Silva is definitely the only cowboy I would kill to ride ✨️

[amanda2119]

Final part cause I love art!!! Here we go!! Thank you all for looking! FarFarAwayPins is my instagram and my shop link is in my instagram bio!!

Art by the super sweet and amazing @felrija

Art by the super awesome freesias_artworks on instagram

Art by the amazing artcraawl on instagram

And art by luna.artdesign

[pedros-husband]

someone else flirts with you

pedro pascal characters x male reader

characters included: javier pena, joel miller, javi gutierrez, marcus moreno, ezra, din djarin, frankie morales, agent whiskey, silva, oberyn martell, dieter bravo,

Javier pena: this man is possessive, like to the point that he thinks any man/woman looking at you wants you. Because of this he is never too far away from you, he likes having an arm around your waist/torso, or holding your hand. but if he had to go away from you for a moment to go to the bathroom or something else, the moment he gets back his whole demeanor changes, his smile drops. he furrows his eyebrows and clenches his fists at his sides to stop himself from completely beating the person to a pulp. he takes a deep bretah and casually walks back up to you, kissing your neck or your lips, snaking his arm back around your waist. he'll say somehting oalong the lines of :

'hey baby, who's this?' if you give him an 'i'm uncomfortable' look he won't refrain from using violence on the person. if you know them or aren't uncomfortable he'll just be really touchy and try to whisk you away at the first moment. the second you get back home he's on you, pinning you to the wall and reminding you who your boyfriend really is.

Joel miller: (pre-breakout)- joel pre-outbreak is a lot more tame and controlled, he is still possesive and protective but he shoves it deep down. howwever if he sees someone flirting with you he slightly looses controls and will lash out, if you give him the go ahead he won’t refrain from teaching the person who flirted with you a proper beating. If you know them/ aren’t uncomfortable he will be more touchy and possessive, pulling you onto his lap and keeping his hands firmly on your hips. If the person makes a flirty comment or gets too close he’ll slightly dig his fingers into the soft flesh of your skin and bury his face into the back of your neck, inhaling your cologne to remind himself that you only have eyes for him.

(Post-out break)- it’s been so long and he’s lost so much that he is more protective of you than ever. He has little shame in public and is much more open to pda and a lot less afraid of showing people your his. If your uncomfortable he will grab the person by the collar and slam them against the wall/ ground, his face full of fury and his teeth gritted, veins bulging in his biceps.

‘That’s 𝗺𝘆 boyfriend you prick’ he’ll growl, if the person is scared enough he’ll drop them from his grasp and take your hand, dragging you back home. If they’re feeling bold and retort back, especially if it’s an insult towards you; he’ll move his hand to their neck and squeeze until their face goes red, eyes bulging and their trying desperately to choke out an apology as spittle rolls down their lips into their chin.

If you aren’t uncomfortable/ know them he won’t hurt them but he will pull you onto his lap with his hand on your inner thighs, rubbing his fingers over the materials of your jeans and closing his eyes to keep calm. If they continue being flirty he will put them in their place and tell them to back off.

Javi Gutierrez: he’s just a sweet boy so he may sit uncomfortably and twiddle with his fingers/ glass, biting his lip and reassuring himself that your his boyfriend and you only love him. If it gets to the point where your uncomfortable he will step in and stand in front of you protectively, asking the person to respectfully leave you both alone or just fuck off. If they leave he’ll turn around and pull you into his arms, burying his face into the crook of your neck and gently stroking your hair. He’ll whisper about how much he loves you and how he’ll always be there to protect you. If they don’t leave he’ll call over one of his guards to escort them away and deal with them accordingly.

Marcus Moreno: he is less bothered about it because he knows you only have eyes for him but if he’s particularly annoyed that day he’ll huff and pull you closer to him, interlocking your hands and pressing kisses to your knuckles every so often to cam himself down. If your uncomfortable he will use his powers to tip their glass over onto them, as a way to get them to leave for a moment whilst he whisks you away back home where he’ll pull you onto the couch and cuddle you for the night.

Ezra: he also doesn’t care much and will just continue to sit there and watch you carefully, maybe resting a hand on your thigh to show the person that your together. If your uncomfortable he would pull out his gun and press it tk the side of the person head and whisper in their ear what he’ll do to them in detail if they don’t leave you alone. If the person is scared enough to leave you alone he’ll drag you back to the camp and remind you how much better he can treat you than anyone else…

Din Djarin: he’s so sweet and soft he wouldn’t know what to do, he’s never had a boyfriend before so he’s never had this problem. He’d shift in his seat and play the straps on his armour or he’ll pretend to be busy with grogu. If your uncomfortable he will immediately stand up and walk ignorant of you protectively, blaster out pointed at the persons throat.

‘I suggest you stop harassing my boyfriend or I’ll take you in cold no questions asked.’ His voice has dropped a few octaves and even though he’s wearing his helmet the person could feel his death stare piercing through them. If they leave he’ll turn round and scoop you up into us arms, marching back to the razor crest and anxiously fussing over you. He won’t stop until he’s completely reassured that your unhurt and okay. He’ll make you go to the bunk room to rest with grogu for the rest of the day/night

Frankie morales: he has little patience with people who think they have the right to flirt with you. He’s been through so much, and lost so many people to care anymore. If your unbothered/ know them he’ll walk up behind you and snake his arms around your waist, whispering in your ear:

‘Can we leave sweetheart? I’m bored’ he’ll nibble under your ear gently and pester you until you eventually give in and go home. If you are uncomfortable he’d walk right up to the person and whisper into their ear

‘Leave him alone before i snap your neck’ and walk back to you with a smile, kissing your cheek. If they leave he’d stay and you’d both enjoy your night dancing or just sitting in each others presence. If they don’t leave he’d then back around to them and walk them into a wall, hand on their neck threateningly until they get scared enough and run away.

Agent whiskey: he has zero shame and self restraint around intolerant assholes who think they have the right to flirt with 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗺𝗮𝗻. No matter if your uncomfortable or not, if he thinks the person is overstepping a friend level of talking/ touching he will be on them or out of there as quick as possible, depending on his mood. If he’s happy he’ll just grab your hand and leave, pulling you into his car and gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turn white, his eyebrows furrowed so far it must hurt. The second your home he’s on you, and he’s gonna be rough..

If he’s in a bad mood he will stand up, his chair falling over in the process and he will beat the person till they’re unrecognisable then pick you up and throw you over his shoulder, his knuckles bloody and face splattered in blood. He’ll lick some of the blood off his lip then walk all the way home, even if you have a car he’s too angry to care or remember.

Silva:he’s sweet but when it comes to you he’s a whole new level of possessive, he knows his way around a gun and lasso and he’s not afraid to use it. If your uncomfortable especially, he will beat them up and take you home, pampering you and fussing over you until you feel better.

Oberyn Martell: he’s not too bothered really, he’s used to sharing his partners around and taking others himself. But sometimes he has to remind himself that it’s different now that your both princes. He’d monitor you from his spot on his throne, sipping his wine and not taking his eyes off you for a moment. If you show a hint of uncomfort he’ll have it known he doesn’t need the guards to deal with this one, he’ll get the prince himself. He’ll stride up to them with a face contorted in anger, he’d choose a punishment, on a good day he’d punch them into the table and whisper in their ear to stay away from you, but if he’s particularly angry or they stepped way too far, he’ll challenge them to a duel or stab them with his dagger. Then he’d take your hand and lead you to your chambers, giving you a sensual massage and a night to unwind in his arms.

Dieter Bravo: he’s not used to being in a committed relationship and doesn’t really know how to go about the situation. He may try to intimidate the person and end up escalating the situation, ending up in him in the ER with a black eye, a poured lip as you hold his hand and stroke his hair. You’d end up having to save his ass instead of the other way round.

[exquisiteserotonin]

La Petit Mort

Rating: E is for Explicit - 18+ only 🔞MDNI🔞

Pairing: Secret Pedro Character x Original Female Character (OFC)

Word Count: 4.7k

Summary: A gloved gentleman misses his train and meets and enchanting stranger

Warnings: Sex with black leather gloves, PiV sex, dubious consent, BDSM, use of a crop, titty spanking, pussy spanking, spanking, oral (F! receiving), use of restraints, degradation, sex work, autoerotic asphyxiation, PLEASE READ: TWIST ENDING (Guess the character!)

A/N: All this came about bc of this pic:

Please enjoy and much love these ladies as always @imalrightllama @magpiepillsjunior @youandmeand5bucks @pink-whiskey-woman @redhotkitchen @legendary-pink-dot @sparklefarts38 @arcanefox207 @secretelephanttattoo @for-a-longlongtime

Please enjoy and as always likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated

He stood stoically, half of his lithe body illuminated by the large, spherical wall sconce. The rest of his body melted into the shadows. The taut, black leather of his gloves creaked as his right hand stretched open and closed, open and closed. With the other hand, he tightened his grip around the handle of his deep, mahogany attaché case. He pursed his lips as he waited among the ever-growing trickle of commuters for the next train.

As the sound of it rushed closer, the trickle intensified to a steady flow. He maneuvered through the crowd, seeking openings that would bring him closer to the edge of the platform where the doors of the train would open. The rumble of the approaching train sent a gust of air that tousled his dark hair over his forehead and brushed through the whiskers of his mustache. More rush hour commuters dashed towards the platform, tightening the open spaces between bodies.

The train finally pulled in and the mad rush of people surged forward. As he tried to force his way through the crowd, a young woman careened into him, pushing both of them away from the platform and back into the crowd.

“Goodness gracious!” She huffed, the waves of her shiny, dark waves falling into her face, “I am so sorry, sir.”

Her warm body pressed against his, leaning forward at the perfect angle for him to catch a glimpse of her. The curve of her supple cleavage was irreverently held by the hint of black lace of her bra. With a gentle assuredness, he moved her off him. His eyes were blessed with a better view of her curves that were accentuated by her perfectly tailored navy blue blouse and her beige pencil skirt.

“It’s fine,” he paused, looking down to see her pushing her waves from her fresh yet elegant face. “Some people can be assholes,”

“I really hope you weren‘t in a hurry,” she said, her eyes softened with empathy as she shifted the weight of her feet to lean towards him again.

She placed a gentle and apologetic hand on his arm before retracting it in quick uncertainty. He smiled, finding a feeling that belied something different from her perfectly sweet face. A giggle arose from her as she scrunched her nose and brushed a few waves behind her ear.

“I don’t want to be presumptuous,” she initiated, her brows soft and expectant, “but would you want to grab a coffee with me?”

Oh she was good, he thought as his eyes continued to peruse the expression she held on her face. She projected an unexpected air of naivete. This was how fools fell in love with her. He smirked at the thought, seeing beneath the facade that she needed more than a poor doting puppy of a man.

“Something tells me you don’t hear the word no very much,” he grinned and then gestured towards the Exit sign. “Lead the way.”

He followed her towards a nearby exit. She walked with a strut not lost on him as he admired the way her skirt hugged her curves almost like a second skin. The view of her derrière in front of him as they ascended the stairs was like his own private show.

They were met by bustling side walks filled with pedestrians, trees hanging over them to listen to their conversations. He moved to find a stride next to her. The way she glided across the pavement next to him parted crowds and turned heads, while making the path before her her own private runway.

“Do you live in the city?“ She asked, her voice tinted with genuine curiosity.

“Upper East Side,” he responded like he was simply stating what day of the week it was.

“A high roller!” She exclaimed, her eyes widening with playful delight. “Well this is my side of town and I just know you’ll love this place.”

She talked a lot, he noted as they found themselves in front an unassuming-on-the--outside coffee shoppe. Its name adorned the old fashioned black eves. Inside revealed an entirely different aesthetic, aside from the rustic stone wall, the counters and chairs were sleek, modern, and minimal. They waited as an ultra modern, but disaffected, young barista served them their overpriced coffee. His new companion never seemed to lose the soft smile on her glossy lips as she spoke to him.

“Tell me,” she said, her voice like velvet and silk caressing his ears, “what do you do?”

“I’m a financial analyst,” he responded plainly, between sips of coffee.

She pouted, resting her eyes for a brief moment on the fingers of his leather gloves before she leaned forward to meet his gaze, “Well that sounds incredibly boring.”

He laughed, bubbles foaming at his mustache as he took another sip of expensive coffee.

As he pulled his cup away, her eyes traveled from where she beheld his rich, brown eyes and then moved to admire his lips. She brought her soft fingertips forward to brush away the foam that dusted the whiskers of his mustache. With unspoken synchronicity, she licked her lips the same time he licked his own. Her touch to his mustache was nearly enough for him to press his lips to her fingertips.

“Do you want to get out of here?” He asked, squeezing her small hand making his massive hand seem that much larger. He held her to him when she dared to move her delicate fingers away from his lips.

“I live nearby,” she exhaled as she slipped her fingers between his.

Together, they left. With each step, they burned the pavement with the heat of their desire until they reached her building. The elderly doorman acknowledged the two of them with the tip of his hat. His eyes crinkled, adding wrinkles to their corners as gave him a knowing glance. It was a look that whispered that he was not the first man to have walked with her through the lavish and opulent foyer of her building.

Hands still intimately intertwined, they journeyed floor by floor on the elevator until it stopped with a sing-song chime of an old bell at the fourteenth floor. They dashed down the pretentiously wall-papered hallway until they reached her door.

As soon as they walked in, she led him to her bedroom and sat him at the edge of her bed. With one pull on the zipper at the back of her skirt, the slinky fabric pooled at her feet. The intensity of their locked gazes towards one another never stopped even as she slowly slipped off her silky blue shirt. He pressed his lips together beneath his mustache as he took in the beautiful shape of her body. He sat mesmerized by the way the lace of her brassiere cupped her supple breasts and the way her panties hugged her hips and clung to her pussy where she had grown wet with desire.

“Fuck,” he exhaled as he scanned up the length of her body, “you’re beautiful.”

He slowly rubbed a gloved hand to her thigh, massaging it, until he circled it back to grab a handful of her ass to pull her towards him. He kissed her navel as he gripped her waist with both hands. He slid them slowly upwards until he was squeezing and kneading her breasts against the pretty lace she wore.

The lids of his eyes hung low with dreamlike desire as he freed her nipples from the confines of her bra, licking, flicking, and circling them with his tongue. She threw her head back at the heat of his touch and circled her arms around his neck, coursing her fingers through his dark waves.

He pulled her tightly, his arms wrapping around her waist as he spun her around onto the bed. She pressed herself back into the mattress and waited for his every move.

She lay there like a piece of art ready and willing to be defiled.

He smirked and thought to himself, the anticipation is one of my favorite parts.

He reveled in how she stalked him with her eyes, from the way he carefully took off his tailored, tan coat to how he unbuttoned his crisp white shirt down to the middle of his chest to the way that he rolled up the sleeves with his glove adorned hands using the intense precision of a surgeon. One step forward elicited another twist and wiggle of her hips. A second step garnered another heaving breath. The muscles of his forearms strained as he returned to the edge of the bed, carrying his attaché case with him, setting it next to her. As though he were ready to diffuse a bomb, he opened it to reveal a set of wrist restraints, ankle restraints, a crop, a choker along with other sensual accouterments.

She arched an eyebrow and her eyes glimmered as she licked her lips before teasing him with a playful pout.

“You’re very forward with someone you’ve only just met,” she roused, shifting her hips back and forth on her soft sheets. “How can you be sure I’d be into all this?

The tease. Two can play at that game.

He tilted his head at her and inhaled a deep breath through puckered lips.

“Oh come on,” he dared, “certainly you’ve had clientele with more niche sexual eccentricities.”

A shadow fell over her face for the briefest of moments. It would have gone unnoticed by a casual observer, but both of them knew he was not that type of man. He allowed her to continue her game, amusement filling the lines on his lips.

“What…what are you talking about?” She uttered, her voice trembling, a hint of false indignation floating from her.

“Oh let’s not play coy,” he tutted with disappointment, “not when I’m more than ready and willing for you to take me on as a new client.”

She stiffened at the words, following the movement of his dark gloves as he sat cross legged over next to her. He observed as she pulled her feet closer to her as she leaned forward, still intrigued with his offering.

“And what if my—my books—are closed?” She inquired.

His laugh rose up to the tray ceiling of her apartment, then rested his hand under his chin. The black leather of his glove showed such a stark difference against his skin as she wondered what his hands looked like, what his hands felt like.

“And yet,” he sighed, caressing her ankle and up her calf, “you still made a concerted effort to bring me to your place.”

She leaned forward as she opened her legs a little wider for him, “Well then: my services, my rules.”

“Hm, but you provide the full girlfriend experience, correct?” he sighed as he continued to run his hands up her silky legs until they settled atop the soft, translucent fabric that covered her dewy center.

He lowered his knees to the floor, pulling her abruptly to the edge of the bed. Opening her legs wide, his mustache tickled her through the soft mesh-like fabric of her panties, licking a long, broad stripe along her outer lips.

The soft whine floated from her lips like a song composed just for him in that moment. So beautiful. He licked another stripe just to hear it again.

“Is that enough to seal this business arrangement?”

Through a squirm and wanton, breathy moan, she bucked her hips back towards his pouty lips, “Yes!”

“Yes, what?” he uttered, the heat of his breath fluttered against her center.

She paused and settled her eyes to his face, admiring the broadness of his body and the confidence in his posture.

“Yes, sir,” she conceited, adding a tinge of submission to her voice.

“Good girl,” he hummed as he took a pair of ankle and wrist restraints from the attaché case and wrapped them around her appendages. With additional diligence, he fastened them to the antique gold bed frame.

The warmest emanating from her body, lit every nerve ending in his body as each breath she let out became heavier and heavier. She pulled at her wrists and ankles, her body begging for him to use her.

“What’s our safe word?”

“What about---vanilla?” he offered.

“Mmm, that’s an amusing use of the word,” she purred, curling her lips up at their corners.

He wore a smug smile as he searched through his attaché case and returned with a pair of scissors and a mini crop which he set to the right of her thigh. She trembled as he brought the shiny scissors to the fabric that covered her mound. He waited a moment, feeling her breath quicken with panic. As an act of mercy, he pulled the fabric to the side to reveal her center where he took in another taste of her. She gasped and let out a loud exhale as he cut away the fabric with precise snips along the seams. He pushed them away leaving her pussy cool and bare for him.

Following a similar pattern of painstaking care and attention, he cut along where the straps of her brassiere met the lace cups that held her breasts. With a quick touch and gentle fold of the fabric, her tits were free. He began kneading them with his smooth leather clad hands. The hungry growl from his mouth reached her ears before he brought his lips to her breasts, taking her sensitive nub into his mouth, swirling it with tongue.

“Ah, fuck,” she gasped, arching her back towards his mouth in desperation.

He locked her response into his brain with a cock of his eyebrow. His large hands explored the length of her torso. And with a broad stroke of his tongue, he drew a long, slow path down her body. He stopped just before reaching her mound to grab the crop that lay next to her. He caressed it up the center of her body, circling each breast tormenting her with each slow, deliberate move. She arched her back towards him again, pulling on her restraints to reach him. He brought the crop back to his hand, sliding the handle with one supple leather glove, before slapping at her nipples with one quick snap of the handle.

“Oh fuck!” She cried out from the stinging pain which slowly eased into throbs of pleasure.

She drew in her breaths rapidly, wincing and writhing through every subsequent crack of the crop on her tits. He wriggled his jaw and felt his cock twitch each time she cried and moaned for him. He admired the red tint that painted her skin and stroked down the length of her body until he was teasing her pussy with gentle flicks and strokes of his crop. The muscles in his forearms tensed as he applied more pressure to each stroke. The air of her bedroom filled with a litany of her moans punctuated by sharp gasps and yelps that paired with each slap he made to her pussy.

“Vanilla!” she cried out after one particularly sharp crack of his crop. “Please, vanilla! I can’t!”

Tears began to slip from the corners of her eyes as she fought to regain her composure. A look of sympathy enveloped his face as he looked on how pitifully she lay for him, desperate for a softer touch. With roguish confidence, he slowly began to rid himself of the confines of his white dress shirt. A deep sigh of relief washed over her as she was left entranced by the vision of his bare chest and broad shoulders. Each muscle moved over the other as he carefully folded his shirt and placed it on top of his coat before he returned to her.

His gloved hands embraced the outside of her thighs as he drew his face closer to her center, admiring how it glistened for him. He breathed in her intoxicating scent before he buried his face in her pussy with slow, even, and meditative breaths. Through his touch in union and with her movements, he felt her breath match his. He let his heat soothe her where he had left his mark. And with one slow, broad stroke of his tongue against her sensitive center, she shuddered.

“Oh my god” she cried, her hips bucking up to his mouth as the metal of the bed rattled.

“Fuck, are you this responsive with your other clients?” he uttered, keeping his lips close to her pussy but not touching it.

She whined, wiggling in his hands, only making him push down harder on her thighs.

“It wasn’t a rhetorical question,” he stated, the heat of his breath warming her folds again. “How many of them make you feel this good?”

The way she continued to writhe and fight against the squeeze of his leathered covered grip revealed her desperate attempt to not to give him the satisfaction. To spark encouragement within her, he gifted her one longer, slower, and deeper stroke of his tongue. It evoked a moan that leapt from the depths of her throat that was determined to remain uncontained.

“None of them!” she admitted, her skin rosy with the glow of sex and embarrassment.

His skin warmed when he saw how the flush of her embarrassment spread from her face to the length of her body like a wave, brushing every inch of her in the prettiest shade of pink. His cock stretched the fabric of his trousers trying to reach for her. He expected a little more restraint from himself, but couldn’t resist pressing his tongue through her folds again to savor the taste of her. He pushed in deeper until his nose pressed against her mound licking up and down, sending her moans louder and louder towards the ceiling. He sucked on her folds that were wet with his saliva and her sex. He licked precise circles on her clit until he found himself interchanging his tight circles with a few zealous sucks of her sensitive knot. Close to her highest point of pleasure, she let out a high-pitched yelp when he suddenly let go.

“No!” she pleaded, pulling at her restraints. “Please don’t stop!”

The way she begged drew a deep, carnal laughter from his chest. Feeling generous, he satisfied the hunger of her tortured anticipation by sucking on her clit one more time insistent on driving her to a place of pleasure she’d never known before. The bed frame shook as she moaned deep from her throat, pulling helplessly at the bindings that held her.

“Oh god, I’m not—this isn’t like me!” She insisted, as the blush of her skin somehow became brighter as she used all her might to regain her composure. “What’s happening to me?”

He pushed himself up from the bed, the muscles of his shoulders flexing as he did. The front of his pants were left wrinkled and stretched with his cock fighting to come out. The high thread count bed sheets were left crumpled where he had rested in reverence of her pussy.

“Such a sweet, sweet girl,” he teased as she shifted her hips on the sheets.

Like an animal stalking its prey, he walked the perimeter of the bed. Mercifully, he removed the restraints from the metal bed frame, carefully unlatching each one from her wrists and her ankles.

Immediately, she knocked her knees together and brought one hand to her chest while the other rested dramatically at her forehead. She caressed her nipples, slowly sliding them down to her wet center as she watched him like under some kind of enchantment.

He looked down upon her naked form, brimming with arrogance. The best way he knew to respond was to remove his belt in an agonizingly slow manner. He let its polished brown leather glide through the pliant, black leather of his gloved hands. The familiar sound of his slacks and boxer briefs falling to the floor filled the otherwise quiet room. He could practically hear her pant in indulgent anticipation as he slid a condom over his thick, pulsing cock.

He slinked over the sheets towards her, using the muscles of his bare muscular thighs to push her legs open for him. He watched as her eyes opened wide for him in trepidation and excitement as she felt the warmth of the leather gloves play at her folds. With each ministration of his fingers he applied more pressure, sending her brain and body into a quiet frenzy. The flexible warmth of his leather clad fingers along her outer folds were simultaneously firm and cushioned. He traversed the length of her body as he crawled on top of her, his length needy and throbbing. He looked at her with his large, brown eyes shone like a bright beacon holding her in.

“What’s with the glove fetish?”

Ah. There it was. She finally asked.

Their chests heaved in unison as she pushed her body up to meet his. Slowly, he ran his hands up to her arms pressing her arms above her on the bed.

“Heightens the anticipation,” he replied as he brought his hands back down to her chest. “Stay still, doll.”

She listened like an obedient pet as he slowly brought his hands just below her jaw. A brief glint of fear appeared in her eyes.

“Shh, sweet girl,” he said as he wrapped them tighter around her neck. “You can trust me.”

He squeezed tighter, his erection growing with each shade of red with her face turned. She gasped, gripping at his arms pleading and beginning to fight underneath him.

“V…Va…ni…va!” she whimpered.

I love it when they fight.

Feeling a rush of adrenaline and desire flow through him, he let go of her neck leaving her shaking with a few errant coughs. Taking his teeth to a finger of his left glove he set his hand free, not even giving her a moment to compose herself before his fingers pushed deep into her weeping center.

“Oh god, oh my god!” She wailed, shaking as he fucked her with his fingers coating them with her sex until she was panting and sobbing in ecstasy. “Fuuuuck!”

A wicked smile crept across his lips, curling up the left side of his face.

“I told you,” he said with a voice so deep, powerful, and persuasive that her entire body trembled from the sound and the force of her orgasm. “There’s nothing that feels quite like it.”

He drew circles over the outer lips of her pussy, gathering evidence of her sex on the fingertips of his remaining glove. An exquisite heat filled the path he drew with his fingers from her center to her mouth, tracing the border of her lips.

“Pull the glove off,” he demanded.

Eager to obey, she brought her hands to his wrist beginning to remove the black leather from his hands.

“Ah, tsk, no! No hands.” He scolded her in voice so disapproving she wanted nothing more than to please him. “Use your mouth.”

Flushed and yearning for him, she obeyed, using her teeth to pull each finger until she held the discarded leather in her mouth. He shook his head in disbelief, impressed by the show she was putting on for him. He leaned his body into hers licking up her neck until their mouths were locked in a sensual kiss.

“Turn over,” he moaned into her ear.

She did as she was told once again. Her chest and stretched out arms clung to the cool sheets as he traced his hands over the length of her torso and squeezed her ass. It was round and positioned so perfectly. With a loud, firm smack of his hand he spanked her, conjuring a luxurious moan from her pretty lips.

The throbbing anticipation was only satisfied when he lined the tip of his thick cock and pushed through her folds, letting out a guttural moan as he gripped her hips, feeling how tight and swollen she was for him. Her hips rocked with the force of his rhythmic thrusts in and out, in and out. The grip her pussy had on his thick cock became impossibly tighter as they continued in worship of each other's bodies.

“Oh, ahh god,” she cried into the sheets, her body shifting and quaking with each movement. “So—ah—so fucking—good.”

The color of her knuckles were white from how hard she clutched her sheets as he pumped his hips against hers like he was trying to break through an invisible barrier. The heat built over and over across her chest. Her pussy vibrated and shuddered so close to losing all control as his balls slapped against her body.

“Fucking tight!!” He gritted his teeth as his thrusts became more frantic. “Oh fuck, doll!”

The bed shook with her body as he pounded into her with the last of his strength. They cried out together filling the air of her perfectly pretty room with the dirtiest deeds, the dirtiest words, but with the purest form of pleasure. They collapsed onto the bed, leaving the mattress slightly askew: an immediate casualty of their act. Their bodies were a heap of sweat and rapid breaths as they tried to recover. He offered her another wicked smile before graciously kissing her with his soft, pillowy pout.

I will be merciful today.

************************

“AND CUT SCENE!”

Lights brightened and a few quiet feet shuffled around as the director stared at the back of the camera.

“You guys, that was incredible!!!” The director said with a hushed sense of amazement permeating his voice.

He waved towards a quiet woman with wide set brown eyes, and alarmingly straight hair. She stood like an awkward statue in the corner of the room holding a pile of blankets. The woman, an intimacy coordinator, shuffled her way towards the actors as they sat up, still recovering from their very unsimulated moment of on screen passion.

“You ok?” The mustached man asked his beautiful costar, touching her reassuringly on her elbow and up to her shoulder. “It wasn’t too much?”

“Hmm,” she smiled, gently rubbing his large hand with hers. “I think you know I’m more than OK, Dieter.”

Dieter grabbed a blanket that was on top of the pile being held by the dwarf-like intimacy coordinator, wrapping it securely around his scene partner. She looked up at him, green eyes shining. He held her gaze on her, his dimples prominent as he smiled. His eyes twinkled as he removed the condom and absent-mindedly discarded it in a trash can the intimacy coordinator overzealously presented to him.

“Maybe we can do this again without that,” she suggested as she stood close, her eyebrows raised and eyes shifting toward the direction of the discarded protection. “And without the cameras and extra eyes.”

A grin danced across his lips as he looked at her, holding his blanket close to him. He parted from her with a lingering embrace and with the magical feel like they were the only two in the room.

“Hi Mr. Bravo,” the intimacy coordinator approached them, “I’m just making sure that everything is ok…that you felt, um..safe and comfortable.”

Dieter wrinkled his brow incredulously and fought hard against revealing a snarl on his lips “Um fuck yeah! More than fine.”

He pressed his lips together, walking off quickly towards a bathroom that served as a makeshift dressing room. The intimacy coordinator was left staring back at him, her eyes glued to his form like lasers set to a target.

****************************

Dieter stood at the train platform, rubbing his tired eyes after a long day on set as he waited for the next train. Too tired to be pretentious about fans who recognized him, he posed for photos contorting his face into goofy smiles. Too tired to push off a fan who hugged him a little too long. Too tired to notice the ominous specter of a girl with wide-set brown eyes and alarmingly straight hair as she stood watching him under the shadows cast by a lamplight wringing a pair of black leather gloves in her spindly hands.

[roselikeaweed]

AHHH I CANT WAIT TO WATCH STRANGE WAY OF LIFE AHHH

[nerdieforpedro]

The Brave, The Bold, The Dirty - Fanfics that I adore

Volume 2

Fanfics that I am currently reading or re-read because they’re that good!! 😊

This list is for those aged 18 and up, please respect the author's tags, warnings and notes as they are there for a reason.

Crawling Back to You Author: @prolix-yuy

(Dieter Bravo x female reader) There’s a secret that Hollywood has been keeping from us that explains so much. Found out I find horns sexy.

This Charming Man

Author: @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

(Frankie Morales x OFC Camilla) No one said Frankie had to be good all the time. To be fair, he's had some major life events. He's unhinged but also sweet. He's got layers. Some of the layers are concerning. Make sure to check the warnings before reading. Dark fluff!

Dr. WeVibe; or How Dieter Bravo Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Remote Vibrator

Author: @imalrightllama (Dieter Bravo x female reader {established relationship}, Dieter Bravo x female reader x male soft Dom, Dieter Bravo x male soft Dom) This is smut. It has evolved into ultra smut and eventually reaches super ultra smut. There's also toy use. You have to read it to understand.

Opia Author: @artemiseamoon

(Ezra x black female reader) A woman's journey for a payday leads her to meet Ezra under less than ideal circumstances. The bond they form is life-long.

Kinktober 2023 Author: @palioom

Thirty one days of October - thirty one different fics each with their own theme to sink your eyeballs into. Make sure to double check warnings.

going slow Author: @ezrasbirdie

(Javier Peña x female reader) An issue that no one really speaks about but can make sexual intimacy extremely difficult. Thankfully, Javier Peña is a sweetheart and willing to take it at the reader's pace.

anytime Author: @undercoverpena

(Javier Peña x female reader) Reader and Javier have been friends for years. Seen each other through the best and worst of times. Javier's mind is rattled and there always seems to be one thing or person rather that settles him.

I like the way you Author: @undercoverpena

(Frankie Morales x female reader) Reader is friends with Frankie. An offhand remark leads a becoming friends with benefits. What could go wrong? Feelings? No one agreed to that.

When the west was wild Author: @boliv-jenta

(Silva x OFC) Nine part story about a woman living alone in the west. An injured strange changes her life, for better, for worse? Read and find out.

Be all and Endor Jyr’ika Author: @djarins-cyare

(Din Darin x OFC) An epic love story told over 40 chapters. Use the bathroom, get a blanket and get comfy, there's reading to be done.

Darkness Author: @ezrasbirdie

(Ezra x female reader) We all know Ezra has explored many ways, things and positions. One that he has not explored is our reader. He's a bit scuzzy, but a gentleman - mostly. You gotta invite him in, give him the ok.

Moonlit Serenades Author: @geminimoonbeamx

(Poe Dameron x plus size female reader) Poe needs some comfort after a tough mission that only the reader can provide.

Headshots Author: @secretelephanttattoo

(Marcus Pike x OFC Ella) Turns out reader's new job as a photographer for the FBI changes her path in life forever. The job was temporary but the relationship was for life.

The Gift Author: @mandoisapunk

(Javier Peña x female reader) Sweet Javier Peña fluff. Reader's gift to Javi is life changing. I'm not crying, you are!

An American in Paris Author: @absurdthirst

(Ezra x female reader) If you ever wondered what Ezra would be doing in the late 1940's after WWII. Our man went to Paris where he meets the reader. This pic had me at Ezra in Paris and then held on to me tight and tossed my feelings around like a rag doll.

To hold you tonight Author: @iamasaddie

(Marcus Pike x female reader) Dark! Marcus has a very dark spin in this one shot. He also has a love a statues that extends to the reader. Please read the warnings before reading.

Full of colors. Author: @trulybetty

(Tim Rockford x female reader) Tim’s working a difficult case, you’ve got work piled on the table. Quality time is needed. A walk-in shower is a treat.

Dry Run Author: @chronically-ghosted

(Javier Peña x female reader) Anyone who may have questioned if dancing with THE Javier Peña in a club was sexy or not - your answer is here.

Tired Author: @javierpena-inatacvest

(Javier Peña x female reader) It’s date night for you and your husband Javier Peña. Everything that could have gone wrong, has. You are stressed out. Date night was not what you’d planned at all.

Diosa Hermosa Author: @fhatbhabie

(Javier Peña x plus size female reader) Javier finds the reader to be the sexiest vision he could see in the museum.

Preciously Plump Author: @melodygatesauthor

(Santiago Garcia x plus size female reader) Our reader is a bit self-conscious, Santiago has her get over that quickly.

Dirty Secrets Author: @absurdthirst

(Dave York x female reader) Your husband Dave is suspicious about your change in behavior. He endeavors to find out the reason why.

[boliv-jenta]

To me, Silva is a naughty, cuddly Joel Miller and it makes me feral in a 'I want to build a home with him then fuck him under the stars anyway' kind of way.

[theywhowriteandknowthings]

Prologue: Twisting the Knife [MDKT2023 Day 7 what happens in x stays in x] Walk Away Series A Silva x transmasc Reader fic A Strange way of Life

This blog is a 18+ space, Minors, do not engage. If you are under the age of 18 you are not welcome here. Please heed these warnings and the warnings put in place on each individual fic and chapter. Your reading and consumption of my work is your responsibility but I will endeavour to mitigate any discomfort for you, the reader, as possible. Once again, this is a 18+ space and minors should not interact. Specific Warnings: body dysphoria, breast binding, self harm(maybe?), alcohol abuse, self-hatred, self-depreciating thoughts, trauma, trans trauma, mentions of being pregnant/child-bearing, pigs? Let me know if I missed anything

1177 words. Twisting the Knife

You’re drunk. Too fucking drunk to be safe. The binding wraps on your chest have been on too long and you know your chest is going to suffer for it tomorrow. You should go back to your room, sleep off the whiskey and regret. But you don’t, when have you ever been sensible in your life?

If you made the habit of being sensible, you’d be knocked up with a fifth or sixth kid, waiting hand and foot on a man you despise, as you pretended to be the good wife. Pretended to be something you aren’t. Something you never were, nor ever want to be.

“Hey there handsome, you drinking alone tonight?” A husky, accented voice draws your eyes up from the depths of the amber liquor in your glass. Your head swims as you take in the scruffy man before you, his large hand gripping the empty seat next to you.

He’s broad, his flannel shirt straining to contain his rippling muscles as he leans over to size you up. His salt and pepper hair is somehow dishevelled and graceful at the same time. His eyes are warm chocolate pools of compassion and the patchy facial hair smattered across his jaw makes you want to know what it feels like on your skin.

“Handsome, that’s a funny joke man, move along.” You grunt, your voice coaching somehow still keeping up as you’re wasted, the affected masculine edge holding up as you try and push the handsome stranger away.

“Modesty ain’t a flattering colour on you,” The stranger chuckles as he sits next to you, “What’s your story?”

“Seriously,” You grunt as you pick up your hat and replace it on your cropped brow. You wobble as you stand and give the handsome stranger a stern look, “Leave me the fuck alone.”

You snatch the cheap bottle of whiskey up from the table and stumble out of the saloon. You don’t know where you’re going, but you’re running away. As always. Always running from the hand you’ve been dealt.

Distorted imeages of drunkards, whores, and other wayward souls such as yourself fill your mind as you find a suitable alley to piss in. You unbuckle your belt and take one last cursory look around to check that no-one else is around. As soon as you’re sure the coast is clear you squat down and piss. You finish up with a grunt as you lean back against the wooden structure behind you.

The night is cool, Fall is fast approaching and you’re running out of reasons to keep going for yet another cold, lonely Winter. You swig from your whiskey bottle and weep to yourself as you let the pain wash over you. The self-hatred, the refusal to let anyone in.

Would it have been so bad to suck that strangers dick? Make him feel good just so you could proxy some pleasure through him?

Your whole body aches, from far within the cavernous depths of your chest, to the backs of your tired eyes. You just want it to stop, the hatred, the fear, the anguish that every breath rips from your mouth.

You stumble about for some time before you fall into a hole of your own self-hatred.

Self-hatred, it turns out, smells like a pigsty.

~*~

You wake with a dry mouth, tasting cheap liquor on your tongue as your head pounds incessantly, like you’ve been kicked in the head by a horse. You slowly open your eyes, grateful for the storm raging outside as your eyes adjust to the low lamplight of your room above the saloon. You look down to see your clothes from the night before still clinging to you body. You try to remember how you got here, the last thing you remember was the grunting of pigs as their soft snouts roamed over your body.

A soft snort from the corner of the room startles you and you look over to see the older man from the saloon, snoring away in the threadbare armchair near the door. You curse yourself silently as you pull the wool blanket up to your chin.

Has he looked? Does he know?

You ask yourself as you gently feel over your aching chest, your bindings are still in place and your long johns are still covering the rest of your body. You take a steady breath and try to formulate a plan, but your head throbs and you need water.

“So, you’re awake.”

The sultry drawl of the older cowboy catches your attention as he gives you a soft smile.

“Stubborn bastard, I told you to leave me alone.” You spit, fuming impotently as you don’t want to get out of the bed, for fear of him discovering your shame.

“Then I found you in a pigsty, you were making quite fast friends with the hogs too.”

“Fuck, I didn’t ask for your help, why’d you even bother?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose as your voice cracks, the feminine lilt making you want to vomit more than your hangover.

“Because I know that look,” He says as he gets up from the chair with a grunt, a sharp series of pops emanating from his spine as he goes, “I know the pain simmering under thew surface of your tough guy act.”

“You don’t know shit old man,” You hiss as he sits at the edge of your bed, a meaty paw resting on your shin as you flinch away from him, “Get the fuck out of my room.”

There’s a pain behind the stranger’s eyes, something deep and familiar that you don’t want to confront. He smiles softly at you as he nods slowly. You yearn for his touch, for if it were even a pale shadow of his kind voice, you know you’d never let him go.

But people like you don’t deserve kindness, love. You’re a broken doll, useless

“Alright, I’m not so much of a masochist to keep listenin’ to your abuse, but if you ever change your mind, I’ve got a ranch out west, just shy of a day’s ride, if you want the details ask Manuel at the bar.”

“Whatever.” You grunt as you roll over onto your side, staring at the peeling floral wallpaper with venom enough to kill a horse.

“See you around, guapo.”

The moment the door shuts behind him you launch out of bed to secure the lock and prop a chair against the handle. You strip with fervour as your chest aches and your ribs whine in protest against the binding.

You sob to yourself as your breasts spill free, traitorous globes of tissue and fat that make you sick to behold. You throw on a clean flannel to cover your shameful body before crawling back into bed, cocooning yourself with wool blankets and the loose shirt.

Your body shakes as you weep into the abyss, you long to have been stronger, to have welcomed the kind stranger into your bed. But, as always, you flee.

Because it’s all you know how.

Join my taglist here!

@deadly-femme-bimbo, @pr0ximamidnight @ktheunready  @harriedandharassed @neverwheremoonchild @pastelnap @patti7dc @survivingandenduring @wannab-urs @its-nebuleuse @guelyury @casa-boiardi @Noisynightmarepoetry @notsosecretspy

[iamasaddie]

Pedro Pascal as popular raccoon memes pt.2

thank you to @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog for the perfect Din meme

[ comment if you liked them, pt. 3 out tomorrow ]

[morallyinept]

Here, you'll find extensive lists of all my favourite Pedro Pascal Character Fics, written by all the amazingly talented writers out there. Includes fics that I am currently reading/want to read in the future.

Please show some love to the writers by re-blogging and commenting on their work. 🖤 Support Your Writers! We get these incredible stories for free! They deserve all the re-blogs.

⚠️ Please ensure you check the triggers/warnings etc... on the stories themselves as some of them may not be suitable to your own particular tastes.

HAPPY READING! 🖤

EZRA (PROSPECT)

JOEL MILLER (THE LAST OF US)

FRANCISCO 'CATFISH' MORALES (TRIPLE FRONTIER)

JAVIER PEÑA (NARCOS)

DAVE YORK (THE EQUALIZER 2)

AGENT WHISKEY (KINGSMEN: THE GOLDEN CIRCLE)

OBERYN MARTELL (GAME OF THRONES)

DIETER BRAVO (THE BUBBLE)

MARCUS PIKE (THE MENTALIST)

MAX PHILLIPS (BLOODSUCKING BASTARDS)

MAXWELL LORD (WONDER WOMAN 1984)

DIN DJARIN (THE MANDALORIAN)

JAVI GUTIERREZ (THE UNBEARABLE WEIGHT OF MASSIVE TALENT)

PERO TOVAR (THE GREAT WALL)

COMANDANTE VERACRUZ (BURN NOTICE: THE FALL OF SAM AXE)

MARCUS MORENO (WE CAN BE HEROES)

SILVA (STRANGE WAY OF LIFE)

DETECTIVE TIM ROCKFORD (MERGE MANSION)

LUCIEN FLORES (THE UNINVITED)

CLINT (FREAKY TALES)

TED GARCIA (EDDINGTON)

MISC. PEDRO CHARACTERS - MR BEN (SNL), WING PIT (SNL), JAY CASTILLO (RED WIDOW), NICO (HOUSE COMES WITH A BIRD), ZACH WELLISON (BROTHERS & SISTERS), DIO MORRISSEY (NYPD BLUE), SANTOS (DRIVE AWAY DOLLS), OMAR ASSARIAN (LIGHTS OUT) & THE THIEF (CASILLERO DEL DIABLO WINES).

PART 2 - SPECIAL AGENT ORTEGA (THE SIXTH GUN), PEDRO ACROSS THE STREET (CALLS), EDDIE THE FRESHMAN (BUFFY), MISS FLORES (SNL), FIRE MEET GASOLINE VIDEO CHARACTER, NATHAN LANDRY (THE GOOD WIFE), RICKY HAUK (TOUCHED BY AN ANGEL) & LIAM (NIKITA).

KINKTOBER FIC RECS - PEDRO CHARACTER KINKTOBERS, FLUFFTOBERS, WINKTOBERS, WHUMPTOBERS, HAUNTED HOEDOWNS, COWBOYTOBERS, BANGATHONS, SEASONAL & SMUTSGIVING MASTERLISTS.

FESTIVE FIC RECS PART 1, PART 2 & PART 3 - CHRISTMAS THEMED PEDRO BOY STORIES AND MASTERLISTS.

TOP 25 FAVOURITE FICS OF 2023 - 25 FICS THAT I READ THIS YEAR THAT ARE MY ABSOLUTE FAVOURITE.

VALENTINE'S FIC RECS - PART 1 & PART 2 - VALENTINE'S DAY THEMED STORIES.

[softiedingo]

my boy Silva certainly has a great cake 🎂✨️

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 🎃💦 ∘₊✧ 𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝟞 ✧₊∘

|| ︶꒦꒷𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥꒷꒦︶ | main masterlist ||

@absurdthirst's Kinktober 2023 Prompts

Day 6: Leash and Collar, Medical Torture, Sacrifice

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰-𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬

| PAIRING(s): Silva x male!reader | RATING: explicit material | 18+  | WORD COUNT: 2.8k | CONTENT: gay cowboys, historically realistic lube | SYNOPSIS: You are unfairly sent to the gallows, and a handsome stranger interrupts your death.

Your toes swing precariously against the wooden stool. You stand a little straighter, a little taller, to ease the abrading rope from digging into the flesh of your neck. The sun was almost mid sky, the heat becoming sweltering as you awaited your fate. It felt unfair to be hung for what had been nothing more than a sequence of poor choices and even poorer outcomes. 

You hadn’t meant for that man’s gun to go off and send a blast of metal shards straight into his gut. You’d been trying to wrestle it away from him, to reason with him that your life was a high price to pay just for trespassing onto his land and eating some of his crops, but the man would hear none of it. In hindsight, you should’ve just been that evil, murderous person that they now intend to hang you for. 

You could’ve left him alone on his ranch to bleed out onto the ground like an animal, but you didn’t. You made the foolish decision to go for help. When he succumbed to his injuries despite your efforts to seek medical attention for him, the Sheriff had been quick to dole out the role of judge, jury, and executioner within the span of about 15 minutes. Turns out killing the poker partner that was always good for a losing hand was enough to disgruntle the Sheriff to determine it had been an intentional burglary gone wrong and that you needed to satisfy the demands of justice over your sins.

You can’t quite see the face of the broad, handsome stranger who had unceremoniously interrupted your death. You hear his heavy accent with a smooth, relaxed cadence. You strain to hear, but the blood is pounding in your ears like thunder. You can’t hear much more than a few sparse words scattered in meaningless order.

You see the Executioner look over his shoulder to ensure no one is around before accepting a handful of paper slips from the Visitor. He tucks it into his back pocket and makes his way up the stairs. The Visitor follows his movements before his eyes lock with yours. There’s something soft in them. You think it’s a nice gesture from the universe to have something so beautiful to focus on right before you die. The little comforts in life. 

“Lucky day, boy,” the Executioner laughs quietly. He makes quick work of detaching your noose from the gallows but keeps your hands tied. “Try anything, and I’ll blow yer brains out,” he warns. 

He marches you down the stairs, glancing every which way for onlookers, and shoves you towards the Visitor. You stumble but catch yourself with a light hand of support from the Visitor. You look back and forth between the men in confusion. Were you being retried? Had somebody caught wind of the Sheriff's corrupt proceedings and intervened?

“Get outta here before somebody sees you,” the Executioner snaps.

The Visitor nods and wordlessly takes hold of the rope at the end of your noose. He mounts his horse effortlessly. You note the width and musculature of his hips and thighs. He’s a broad man all over, even bigger than he looked from up in the gallows. He’s older than you by at least 10 years if not 15 or 20. He’d had a life of labor, no doubt about that, and so much work in the sun had a tendency to age folks quicker.

“Keep up as best you can. I won’t make you run, but we need to leave here quickly,” he tells you. 

Were you being kidnapped? Had those papers been bills and not a legal decree? Your stomach jolts. You try to make sense of your new predicament, but you haven’t had proper nutrition or hydration in days. You’d already started out in a deficit, but the rundown jail had been no remedy to your plight. 

The Visitor gently knocks the inside of his ankles into the horse, and you do your best to keep pace. He looks down at you every now and then, you think to make sure you’re not plotting any sort of brazen escape, but he’s got that same soft tenderness in his gaze that goes as quickly as it comes. After you make it far enough away from town, you decide to confront him.

“What are you going to do with me?” you demand. Your voice is hoarse with exhaustion and dread. 

The Visitor looks down at you with a contemplative look. “Are you hungry?”

The hominy soup tastes better with each bite. You lean forward in the shoddy wooden chair for your next bite.

“Ah, steady. Steady now or it will drip all over you,” the Visitor cautions.

Your cheeks flush at your tactless etiquette, but you’re starving. The first spoonful had sent your blood sugar rocketing. It was the most alive you’d felt in months. The little comforts in life.

“Sorry,” you mutter. You avoid his gaze, not just to stave off your embarrassment but to also keep from looking into his large brown eyes for too long – too long for an innocuous explanation to be plausible. There were hardly any men like you that you’d met, and, even of those bedfellows, many refused to freely act on their desires for fear of exile or the gallows.

You’d avoided death or worse so far today, and you didn’t want to tempt fate.

“Why’d you take me?” you blurt out. The spoonful of much needed sustenance hovers near your mouth before the Visitor places it back into the bowl. He sighs and looks away in thought for a moment before meeting your eyes again. Your stomach flips at the direct eye contact.

“You remind me of somebody that I once knew,” he answers cryptically.

“So, what? I’m some… memory from the past? That doesn’t sound like a convincing enough reason to bribe one of the Sheriff’s men and take off with their bounty,” you balk.

He smiles gently and looks over your features as though he’s plotting someone else’s countenance onto your own. “It’s not always something that can be explained, I guess,” he offers.

You huff and shake your head. “Look, can you just tell me what the fuck I’m doing here? Can you just.. get it over with, whatever it is?” 

He looks taken aback slightly at your suggestive wording. “You think I’m going to harm you? After saving your life? Getting you all the way here? Feeding you from what low stock I have in my kitchen?”

Each question makes the guilt you feel triple. You jut your chin out defiantly. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to think. Some man just shows up and, what, pays for my salvation out of the goodness of his heart? You expect me to believe that? I don’t even know your fucking name! You’re talking like—”

“Silva,” he interrupts calmly. “My name is Silva.”

Your mouth slowly closes, the rest of you rant dying on the tip of your tongue. You shift uncomfortably with your arms still restrained and that damn rope still around your neck like he didn’t want you to forget for a single moment that he was your savior.

“You still have me tied up. If you’re just some nice gentleman, then why am I still bound?” you challenge.

Silva shrugs and sits back in his chair. “Just trying to make sure neither one of us is set up to make any rash decisions.” His brow puckers for a moment as if he’s said too much, although you’re still firmly in the dark as to what point there is to him bringing you here.

You take the moment of pause to let your eyes wander. His graying hair is tousled and flips aimlessly over his ears and neck. His scruff lines his jaw in patches, which only make his mustache all the more prominent. He doesn’t appear unkempt. His face and body look lived in, like the soul within burns and flares with a vigor for simply existing. His eyes are the final provocation for your comprehensive preoccupation.

His thighs pressed against the seat make them look even wider, and your cock twitches imagining how it must feel to be bracketed between them. He’s commanding in such an effortless way that it makes your lower belly warm with want. You realize you’ve been staring for much too long and look up to see he’s quietly observing you.

Your cheeks heat at having been discovered ogling. Then the fear creeps in. He appeared to be a shrewd, observant man, and you suddenly felt very exposed. What would he do if he knew the truth? What would he say if he discovered your visions of lovers had looked more like him than any of the town whores beckoning men for a “night of comfort” for only a few coins.

“If you want to leave, I will untie you,” Silva decides. “But I will warn you, I will not hesitate to kill you if you attempt any sort of violence on me or my land.”

Your adam’s apple bobs with a hard swallow. The voice in your head is screaming at you to run and count your blessings at having evaded death another day. The call of his body sang to your blood. His was a siren song to your sanity, promising to engulf and drown you, and you can’t find it in yourself to care whether or not you can swim.

“Who is he?” you press with a shaky voice.

Silva’s jaw twitches. He knows exactly who you mean. He knows the implication behind the question. He can feel the shift of the energy in the small room.

“Somebody I spent a lot of time with.” His expression is as murky as his answer.

“And you miss him?” Your chest rises and falls with heavy breaths.

“You should go,” Silva asserts, but his big brown eyes betray any conviction.

“And what if I want to stay?” you whisper.

Silva wrenches you up from your seat with a firm grasp on the rope around your neck. Your face is so close you can almost touch his striking, aquiline nose. His eyes burn into yours, his pupils pooling into swollen rings of desire. The white of his knuckles pales as he grips the rope tighter.

“You’re getting yourself into a situation you won’t be able to back down from,” Silva warns. “You’re being careless.”

You can’t hold back any longer, and you aren’t sure how much bloodflow you have left to your brain before you pass out. So, you lean in and hungrily kiss the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen in your life. His entire body tenses at the gesture, his free hand flying up to your back to orient himself to something. When you pull back to assess the damage, there’s nothing but full blown lust.

Silva drags your mouth back onto his as he messes with the knots around your bound wrists. You wiggle them in an effort to help free yourself, and soon enough your hands are unrestricted. You tangle them into Silva’s hair as he nudges you onto the table with his hips. You scramble to scoot yourself up and peer at him excitedly.

He’s caging you in on top of the table, hungrily kissing and licking into your mouth. The moan that escapes only serves to rouse him more as he deepens his kiss and fervor of his groping. His large hand cups your hardon through your trousers, and you groan at the feeling of him taking control of your body.

“Have you ever taken a man in your mouth before?” he asks breathlessly.

You nod and shimmy down the table onto the floor. Your wrists are sore from being tied for so many hours, but you don’t hesitate to work his fastenings open to reveal his stiff length. Your mouth waters watching the heft of it bob in front of you.

“Open,” he gasps desperately, pleading.

You take him as best you can, the corners of your mouth stinging at the stretch of him. The thought of him cleaving you in two makes your cock jump. You shove a hand down your pants and wrap your fist around it.

“Can you– Can you take more of it? Please?” he pants.

You’re in the midst of trying to figure out how to relax your jaw more when he pulls on the rope. It inches your head forward, and you both moan in unison. When your throat starts to spasm, he releases the taut pull of the rope and allows you to slide your mouth off him with a choking sound. You gasp for air and marvel at your handiwork, several strands of saliva bridging between your mouth and Silva’s cock.

He jerks you up from the floor and turns you to face the table. He crouches down and tugs your pants the rest of the way down. You brace yourself on the table, two palms flat and wide against it, and cry out when you feel his tongue against your entrance.

“Silva,” you whimper. You throw your head back in complete euphoria. He grunts as he delves his tongue into you and his large hands effortlessly spread you for his gluttonous gorging.

He starts to insert a finger but meets the resistance of your nerves and underworked hole. He stands and rummages through some of the glass containers on the table.

“Safflower oil,” he pants as he answers your silent question. 

He douses his hands in the lubricant and strokes you with it. Your hips jerk at the slick pull of his hand on your hard cock. His other hand works to relax your hole as you whimper and whine through the stretch. By the time he works a third finger into you, you’re gasping and leaking precum everywhere.

“Silva, please. I don’t care,” you pant. “I don’t care if it hurts at first. I just want it. Please.”

He makes an anguished groan and works more safflower oil over himself before rocking his length between the cleft of your cheeks.

“You’ve had a man here before?” he moans into your ear. You slip a hand behind you to cradle the side of his face.

“Y-Yes. Not too many,” you assure him.

“I’m going to fuck you, and you’re gonna fuck my fist,” he grunts as he prods your entrance with his bulbous tip. 

You try your best to relax as he slowly enters you. He speaks freely into your ear as he stretches you open.

“You ever had this? A man taking your hole and making it his own? Letting him fill you up so you still smell like his cum even the next day?” he rasps.

Your eyes roll back as he bottoms out. You both rest for a moment as he waits for you to relax and adjust to his size.

“So fucking good. Better than your mouth, even,” he moans as he starts to rock his hips back and forth into you. “And your mouth was heaven for my cock.”

You cup your balls and gently massage them as he starts to propel himself faster and deeper. His large hand practically swallows your entire cock. You watch yourself disappear under his fingers before emerging again with each thrust.

“I-I’m gonn–I can’t hold off,” you stutter as your impending orgasm surges.

Silva buries his nose into the sweaty hairs along the nape of your neck and breathes you in, seeming far off and lost in the moment at the same time. You wonder briefly if he’s thinking of the man he said you reminded him of. His other arm slings around the front of your chest and pulls you flush against him.

With one deep thrust, he hits a spot that has you spurting out all over the table. Your jaw hangs open in a silent scream of ecstasy as he snaps his hips into you rapidly before reaching his own climax. He grips you against his chest as he spills inside you with a gritty whine.

He noses the curls at your hairline and breathes you in shamelessly. You let yourself sink back into the expanse of him, letting yourself get lost in the feeling of another man’s arms encasing you in a sated, serene glow. Even after you both clean up at the wash stand and hug each other’s naked bodies through the night, you feel the tingle of human closeness buzzing in the configuration of your veins and synapses and bone.

When he saddles up a horse for you the next day, you try to refuse. It’s too much. It’s not the best horse, but it’s still a horse. It’s too much. He’s already given you so much. You press into his mouth with a soft kiss. He grins at the gesture, not remarking on the discrepancy between what’s been given and what’s been taken. 

You’re leaving with your heart filled, your stomach full, your journey feasible, and still living and breathing.

You turn to look at him one more time, to memorize his face, and to give him a warm smile.

“Thank you, Silva.”

He nods humbly and returns the nicety.

“I hope you find him again, wherever he is,” you say in earnest.

His eyes sparkle a bit at that. “Me, too.”

[pedros-husband]

you get sick

pedro pascal characters x male reader

characters included: javier pena, joel miller, javi gutierrez, marcus moreno, agent whiskey, silva, oberyn martell, dieter bravo

javier pena: he's always constantly worrying about you due to the nature of his job and the danger both of you are in every day because of it, so when you get sick his anxiety is absolutely sky high. He calls in sick to take care of you and won't take his eyes off you for even a moment unless hes fetching food or medicine. if you try to talk about how he's worried about you and how endearing you find it, he'll brush you off and say he's just annoyed that he has to take care of you, but there will be a slight heat to his cheeks (it's totally the Colombian heat he'd tell you). He'd mutter spanish curses under his breath the whole time, grumbling about how annoyed he was that he had to be stuck at home taking care of you, or how stupid you were to go and get sick.

He's not stupid so he'll reduce affection to light touches and holding hands, so he doesn't get sick either, no matter how much you beg for a kiss or to cuddle. if you're persistent enough however, he may get in the bed facing away from you so you can cuddle him. he'd get annoyed if you get all your 'sickness' over his shirt but he won't move until he knows for definate that you're asleep, before getting out and placing a soft kiss to your sweaty forehead. he doesn't mind taking care of you that much really.

joel miller: pre breakout- he’s dealt with Sarah being sick but beyond that he’s not all that experienced, but that doesn’t mean he won’t try his best. If he can he’ll get a day or two off work (not guaranteed) and he’ll care for you with gentle words and cold compresses to your sweaty forehead. Or he’ll run to the neighbours and beg for some chicken soup for you. He’d refuse to kiss you on the lips but he’d be big spoon and cuddle you until you felt better.

He’d reassure you that your not a burden a lot and remind you how much he loves you with little:

“My handsome man”

“I love taking care of you sweetheart, makes me feel all important y’know”

He’s just a big softie inside really 🥰

Javi Gutierrez: he’s so sweet and caring, he hates seeing you sick so he’d take time away from whatever work he had to stay by your bedside, getting the most expensive medicine he could find only for you to ask him for some warm soup or cuddles. He of course doesn’t care if he gets sick so he’s give you so many sweet and tender kisses, making sure you know how much he loves you. He’d even let you choose a movie other than a nick cage movie if you were reallyyyy sick.

Marcus Moreno: he’d give you his mothers best soup to make you feel better and he’d ask to work at home for a while whislt he takes care of you, sitting on the bed with your head resting in his lap as he works on his computer, staring glances down to see your sick and puffy face sleeping peacefully in his lap cuddled up under blankets. He’d smile and occasionally run his fingers through your hair or traces shapes onto your soft skin, happy tears pricking in his eyes. He’d get missy to write you a get well soon card too.

Agent whiskey: due to his past with his ex he’s so much more concerned if you’re ever sick or hurt in anyway so he’d refuse to go out on missions until he knows for a fact your fit and healthy, constantly by your side biting his lips till their bloody and cracked, nails bitten down so much blood seeps onto his hands and he constantly has to wash them. He’d go crazy over medicine and food so much he often ends up stressed and overworked so much he gets sick too, ending up with you two looking after eachother, your thumbs rubbing over the soft skin of his knuckles to soothe him and whisper sweet words into his ears like:

“I’m okay mi amor, rest your pretty head”

“We’re a couple of sick love struck idiots hm?”

And he’d whisper things like:

“My man is so handsome even when he’s sick huh? That’s not fair”

“You gotta get better soon or I might just go crazy with worry mi Vida. And that wouldn’t be very fun for you now will it?”

Silva: he’d be a lot more quiet with his approach, choosing to simply sit with you, a cold rag dabbed across your sweaty skin and his fingers interlocking with yours. He’d read a book in the rocking chair husky he observed you sleep to make sure you’re okay and he’d take nice cold baths with you propped against his chest, his fingers tracing shapes onto you chest as he mumbles Spanish into your ear.

Oberyn martell: he’s a busy man- being prince of dorne but he’d send for his servants and the best doctors in the land to look after you, settling for comforting you at night. He’d climb into bed with a simple robe on only covering his lower half, one arm hanging over your side and a leg tangled with yours- not too much contact to overheat you in your sick state- but enough that you’re both satisfied. He’d be worried about you and constantly ask his servants updates on you through the day/s and visit you if it got really bad- sitting by your beside holding your hand with tears threading to spill though he’d never admit it if he did cry, chalking it up to you being sick and delusional. Or that it was a dream.

Dieter bravo: he’s been sick so many times from drugs and alcohol that it’s pretty normal for him and he knows how to deal with it like it’s nothing. Of course with you it’s different and he’d treat you liek a prince- knowing the pain you’re probably in. He’d give you the best medicine he knows and even some of his reserved stuff for extremely dark days if he felt needed, and he’d lay with you until it was all better.

sorry I was gone so long everyone- something happens in my life and I took some time off for myself. I am planning on releasing something soon but I just wanted to get something out there for now :)