#or I sometimes do this thing where I take pictures of myself

[slowdrawl]

[DESCENT] Circle I — Limbo |JoelMillerXf!reader| AU ONE-SHOT | 5.5k | Limbo. The space between wanting and deserving. The descent begins here.

He left to protect her future. Three years later, she’s got a boyfriend and a diploma. He’s got guilt and a voice she still dreams about. One phone call. No closure. No forgiveness. Just the slow ache of never letting go.

a/n : In an effort to write oneshots, I'm challenging myself to write, and take you and Joel through each circle of hell. Nine alternate universes. Nine versions of Joel Miller. In each, you fall a little further into ruin, into him. 18+ minors dni |warnings| explicit sexual content, f/m masturbation, age gap, emotional themes, angst, power dynamics, infidelity adjacent, unresolved tension, phone sex.

Inspired by Dante’s Inferno (This one is MOSTLY in Joel's POV) You had promised yourself, promised her. 

That you’d become a ghost.

She deserved better. More. 

She deserved the whole world, more than anyone else. And you couldn’t give it to her. Not with Sarah still so little, still looking to you for everything. 

Not with her being so young, still glowing and full of life with that big, bright future ahead of her. You were already tired. Already weighed down. She was light. She needed to stay that way. You couldn’t ruin her anymore.

So you promised to become a ghost.

It was the only thing that made sense to you at the time. You both agreed to try to make it work when she left for Boston. Said the distance wouldn’t make a difference. But you knew better. Love like that doesn’t get to last—not when it starts off so wrong. Not when it’s built on guilt and secrecy, on late nights and hidden touches. She was too good to be destroyed by a man like you. Too pure.

You drove her to the airport, you kissed her goodbye for the last time. And then you waited.

Waited until she had her feet under her, until she was settled into the city, making friends, finding her way. Then you called her. Broke her heart on the phone, like some teenage punk who didn’t know how to handle his feelings. But it was calculated.

“Joel. I don’t know where this is coming from, baby, please don’t—” Her voice shook, throat barely squeezing the words out. “I’m gonna get on a flight, we’re not doin’ it like—”

You cut her off.

“You’re not catchin’ no fuckin’ plane. See, this is it. This is why I’m doing this.”

Your words came out sharp, cold—venom, because kindness would've made her stay. And you couldn’t let her. Not this time.

“I’m not gonna let you stop living your life for me,” you said. “I’m not gonna let you throw your future away just to come runnin’ back to some tired old man and a kid who ain’t even yours.”

She cried. She cursed you. Called you every name in the book, sealing it with “You’re a goddamn coward, Joel. I fucking hate you.”

And maybe you were a coward. Maybe you deserved her to fuckin’ hate you too.

But she hung up, and she never called back.

You kept your promise. But It felt like some part of you died.

So you became a ghost.

It had been nearly three years.

Long, quiet years. You didn’t date. Hell, you didn’t even look at another woman. Instead, you buried yourself in work and raising Sarah—who was old enough now to stay out late and give you grey hairs, old enough to roll her eyes when you got overprotective. You kept your head down. Kept the world out like you didn’t deserve to see it.

Some nights, you’d find yourself awake at 3 a.m., sitting on the couch with the TV muted, thinking about her. Missing her. Wondering if she missed you. If she hated you as much as she’d said she did. Sometimes you’d scroll through your camera roll, finding pictures you swore you’d delete but never could. Selfies from that road trip out west. Around the campfire. Her lying on the beach, tanning, smiling back at you in that damn red bikini.

You’d watch that one video you accidentally took instead of a picture. Christmas, four years back. She was underneath the tree with Sarah in her lap, matching pajamas and everything, laughing, saying, “Cheese.”

Every picture flashed the most vivid memories into your head, making you ache for what you had. Making you hate yourself more for what you did.

You’d sit there alone, in the dark, just infomercials flickering blue light on your face. Jaw clenched so hard you thought you’d break teeth. Hands gripping your knee like it was the only thing tethering you to reality.

You missed her. Missed her like hell. But you kept it buried.

Until today.

Because today, Sarah showed you some post goin’ around with college graduation photos. She didn’t know what she was doing to you, showing you that fucking screen. But she did. And there she was.

Beaming in a cap and gown. Glowing. Same bright light in her smile—but a bit older now. Beautiful.

There was some scrawny kid beside her, arm slung around her shoulder, wearing a damn T-shirt and jeans low on his hips.

The caption said: “I guess I’m a Social Worker now?? 🎉”

You could feel it in your teeth. Stomach churning at the sight of another man with his hands on her.

Of course she was seeing someone. Why wouldn’t she be? She wasn’t yours anymore.

But him?

He looked like a loser.

Probably never done a day of hard labor in his life.

And that light you’d buried inside yourself? That old, selfish thing you’d tried so damn hard to kill?

It flickered back in your chest.

That part of you came alive.

The rest of the day passed in a haze.

You didn’t mean to keep looking, to keep scrolling—but you did.

You looked through every picture, every tag. Her friends’ profiles. Their friends’ profiles. His.

He was a fuckin’ theatre kid. Facebook said he worked at Starbucks, set to become some teacher. If you had to guess, the kid probably had his tuition paid for by Mommy and Daddy. They had money; you’d seen the pictures of them on vacation in Bali, on their damn yacht.

But he was her age. And he probably had more in common with her, more to talk about. Less baggage.

Every post you opened was like a twist of a knife.

She looked so happy. Confident.

She looked lighted without you.

There was something shining in her eyes now that you had never seen before. Or maybe you just never paid enough attention.

But he did.

He was all over her page. Always touching her. Always smiling at her like he knew her.

Really knew her.

You were torturing yourself, stringing things together piece by piece like a serial killer, making up your own story of what she’d been up to.

It really shouldn’t have bothered you.

It did.

You slammed your laptop closed and looked at the clock. It was 10 p.m. You’d spent hours sleuthing, tearing yourself apart. You stared at the wall like it might offer you an explanation.

You could text her. Something simple. Something normal, friendly.

“Congratulations, proud of you.” Or even, “Sarah told me you did it, knew you would!”

She might not even respond. Or maybe she would—maybe she’d tell you to go to hell. To stop haunting her. Maybe she’d changed her number. Deleted yours. Blocked it. 

But maybe she didn’t.

You pulled out your phone and searched for her contact. Staring. Thumb hovering over her name.

Then dropped it. Back pocket. Done.

Ten minutes later, you did it again. Hovered. Stopped.

You put it in your nightstand drawer.

Eventually, you gave up and you poured yourself a drink. And then another. Then another.

You hadn’t let yourself think about her in months. Years. Not like this.

You buried her, along with all the other broken parts of you, in the back of your chest.

Swore you’d never dig her up.

But tonight? She clawed her way six feet up. Right to the surface.

////

You thought about him sometimes.

Not often, but often enough that he never really went away, you never really buried him. You’d find yourself thinking about him when you were alone—on the bus home from campus, brushing your hair out after a shower. When you were at the bar and Pearl Jam came on through the busted speakers. Something small would trigger it. When you smelled cedar. A stranger’s voice with a familiar southern drawl. Sometimes your own laugh would do it, loud and too raw—catching you off guard.

It had been three years and he still had a home in all of the soft places you didn’t talk about out loud.

You tried to forget, really tried. Spent a whole year trying to stop that ghost from haunting your apartment. You’d seen other people, let them touch you, let them kiss you; you even let one stay.

But nobody ever looked at you the way he did, like you hung the moon and stars all by yourself. A quiet kind of adoration he had for only you. Nobody else made you feel like you were the only person in a crowded room, like you were the movie star in a leading role of their life.

You hated him. You hated him for leaving, for making you beg, for creating this ache. You hated him for making you feel like you were something to be ashamed of.

But sometimes, late at night, you’d think about him. You’d pull out your old phone and scroll into your texts, everything still there, frozen in time. You would spend hours re-reading old messages, searching for answers. Maybe if you read them enough times you would be able to decode them. Figure out where and when it all went wrong. Fix it.

Sometimes you’d even look through those messages after your boyfriend had fallen asleep beside you.

You’d hover your fingers over his contact, name still saved, number still there. Never deleted. Sitting there untouched. Simmering below the surface. Waiting.

You hadn’t thought about him in months—not like this anyway.

But today you did.

Because you heard a buzz and caught a glimpse of the notification on your phone. Sarah liking your graduation photo.

It made your heart pound.

It made everything come back.

You closed your phone and let yourself miss him, and fuck did you ever miss him.

You decided to take a look at his Facebook page. Try to piece together what he’d been up to since he left.

There wasn’t much to cling to. Just a few pictures of Sarah, shared posts about him and Tommy’s construction company. Looked like they finally hired a graphic designer for their social media.

You scrolled all the way back to right before you left for school. A post with photos from your trip to Montana. A picture of you sitting by the campfire, Sarah next to you smiling, burning a marshmallow on the embers.

You sighed, closed your phone, and put it under your pillow.

You had no idea that you’d accidentally liked that post just now.

You don’t know it yet—but Joel saw it, too.

///

You hear your phone buzz against the pressboard and open the drawer, picking it up. You squint at the screen, half because you’re getting old and half because the booze is starting to make your vision a little foggy now.

Your heart sinks into your stomach. You do a double take. A triple take.

A notification glows on your home screen, a little box with her name, saying she liked some post. You tap the notification with shaky fingers, and it takes you to a photo of her from that camping trip. You swore those pictures were set to private—just for you. Hidden. Buried. Like everything else.

Why did she like that photo, out of all of them?

She was wrapped up in your flannel, barefoot in the dirt, smiling back at you. One of her arms was wrapped around Sarah, both of ’em sitting around the fire, that damn marshmallow a fireball. You had finally bought that travel trailer she kept buggin’ you about. It was your first trip of the summer. Sarah was so excited to have her own tent while the two of you stayed in the trailer. After she went to bed, the two of you stayed up drinkin’, giggling like little kids, keepin’ quiet so you didn’t wake her up.

You had sex…no, you made love that night. Slow. Intimate. You can still see it. Still hear her callin’ you baby like it was the first time she’d ever done it.

Fuck.

You reach for your drink.

Empty.

You grab the bottle, staring at her name on your phone.

You shouldn’t call her. You could. You shouldn’t.

You do.

You press call. Almost drop the phone like it burned you. Nearly hang it up.

But it only rang once.

“Hello?”

Her voice. Quiet. Cautious. Familiar in a way that makes you feel sick.

You freeze. Panic. Heart hammering. Throat gone dry.

“Joel? Is everything good?”

You grab your throat and try to shake the lump out of it. “Hi, yeah, I’m fine,” you mumble.

Silence.

There’s a pause. Not awkward—just thick. Heavy with all that hasn’t been said.

She breathes out first.

“I didn’t think I’d ever hear your voice again.”

You lean forward, elbow on your knee, gripping the bottle in your free hand. It feels dumb to say you didn’t either. You’d been thinking about this for hours. Since the day you ended things. But still—

“Didn’t think I’d ever actually call,” you say instead.

She made a soft little noise. A laugh. Or maybe a scoff.

“I figured I was blocked.”

You swallowed, the guilt stabbing. “Never. I wouldn't.”

“I know,” she let out an airy laugh. “I checked. A few times actually. Even called with my caller ID off.”

Another beat of silence stretches between you.

Not so cold now.

You stare at the floor, same spot you’d been staring at earlier. “Saw your post online,”.

“Since when do you have Instagram?”

“Sarah showed me.” Your voice goes a little rough. “Didn’t mean to look. Just… she showed me and—there you were.”

“Ahh, yeah,” she hums. “There I was.”

You hear her shift. Maybe on a bed or couch. Something creaks. Fabric rustling. You picture her in a dark room, legs tucked under her, phone pressed to her ear.

“I’m proud of you,” you mumble. “I mean that.”

“Thanks Joel,” Her voice is gentler now. Less guarded. “it took a lot longer than I thought. Wasn’t easy.”

“I believe it,” you murmur. “You always worked harder than everyone else, though.”

She doesn’t answer immediately.

“You sound tired,” she replies eventually.

You huff. “I always sound tired.”

“No, not like that,” she says. “You sound... older.”

That one lands right in your ribs.

“Couple of years’ll do that,” you say. “Especially when you got a teenager runnin’ around.”

“I saw a picture of her,” she said. “She’s really growin’ up. She’s beautiful.”

“She is. She’s... smart. Smarter than me, quick too. Got more attitude than I know what to do with.”

“She always did.”

You grin. Small. Quiet. But you smile.

The silence that follows is different. Not piercing. Not awkward. Just... fragile.

Then she broke it, barely above a whisper.

“Why now?”

You look up at the ceiling, then you look at the bottle. Still half full. Think about chugging it. Think about ending the call and turning the phone off. Think about lying.

But it’s been three years.

You’re done lying.

“I saw you,” you say finally. “That post. That damn smile. And it just… it did somethin’ to me. I couldn’t push it back down.”

She doesn’t speak.

You rub at your jaw, trying to find better words, but they aren’t coming.

“I dunno,” you mutter. “It was like—fuck—I just saw you and it all came right back to me.”

She makes a sound then. Nothing. Almost like her breath got caught.

You close your eyes, cringing.

“This was dumb, I shouldn’t have called,” you add quickly. “M’sorry.”

“Don’t,” she says, voice sharper now. “You’re not allowed to do that.”

You freeze.

“You don’t get to hang up again. Don’t get to act like it was a mistake. You called me, Joel. You. After all this time. After—” She cuts herself off. Then comes back softer. “You don’t get to drop that on me. Don’t get to bring me back there. Make me feel like that eighteen-year-old and then leave all over again. That’s not fair, Joel.”

“I wasn’t tryin’ to—”

“Yes, you were,” she chokes. “It’s what you’ve always done, I know you. You pull me in and then you run. So just—don’t. I can see through it now.”

You can’t find the words, not yet.

So she keeps talking. Spitting.

“I missed you, you know that?” Her voice cracks. “I hated you for it. I hated me. But I missed you every fuckin’ day. Even when I was with someone else. Even when I was happy.”

You grip the phone tighter.

“I still missed you. You and Sarah,” she whispers.

Your throat feels too thick to speak.

“I thought of picking up this phone so many times,” she says. “But I was scared. Scared you’d changed your number. Or that you’d fuckin’ answer. And you’d sound… alright. Like you forgot about me. Like you’d moved on.”

You find your voice. Barely. It comes out scratchy.

“I didn’t.”

Another silence. Different again. Raw. Charged with something.

“I never forgot about you,” you said. “Not for a damn second, baby gi—”

You stop. Panic hitting your teeth. You bite down on your fist like somehow you could shove the words back into your mouth.

She doesn’t reply right away. But you hear her breathing.

Steady.

Waiting.

You know exactly what she’s going to ask before she says it.

“Then why’d you leave?”

It’s not angry this time.

It’s desperate.

Like she’s tired.

And that’s worse.

You rub a hand down your face. Searching for the right words—but there aren’t any. Just the truth. And the truth is ugly.

The truth has always been so fuckin’ ugly.

“Because I loved you. Too damn much,” you say.

Silence. But not shocked silence. Like she already knew. Like she’s just been waiting for you to say the words.

You swallow.

“Because you were still twenty. And I was fuckin’ thirty-six. I had a daughter and a mortgage and a back that ached every damn morning. And you had… a life ahead of you waiting. And I didn’t want you giving up yours for mine.”

“You didn’t even give me a voice in any of it,” she says, like it choked her.

“I know.”

You hated how fast you say it. Like the guilt is sitting right there, crouched in your chest, waiting to be let out. Because it is. It always has been.

“I knew if I let you decide, you’d stay,” you continue. “You would’ve come back. Woulda’ dropped classes, missed out on everything, just to make it work with me. And I couldn’t... I couldn’t be the reason you didn’t get to experience life fully.”

“You were the life I wanted,” she whispers.

You close your eyes. Let it cut like a knife straight through your ribcage. Let it land in the hollow spot in your chest where her name used to echo.

“I thought I was doin’ what was best for us,” you say. “But I think about you every damn day. Every time I see someone wearin’ purple. Every time I drive past the airport. Every time I wake up and reach for someone who ain’t’ there.”

She hiccups, choking something back. 

“You made it sound so easy,” she says. “Like it was no big deal to let me go. Like I was just a set of chains you desperately needed rid of.”

“I had to make you hate me,” you reply, low like you don’t want her to hear it. “It was the only way you’d stop loving me.”

“Guess that didn’t work either.”

You both laugh. Honest. Sad.

Then her voice drops. Quiet and slow. Weaved with something sharp and aching.

“I never stopped, you know.”

You close your eyes, and it’s almost like she’s  there.

You say it like a prayer, like a promise. “I know,” you breathe. “Me neither, baby.”

Silence.

Not the heavy kind this time. This one pulses, alive.

She breathes out slow, like she’s been holding her chest still for minutes. You can hear it in her voice when she speaks next—thinner, smaller, but there’s something else in it, something different. Guilt maybe. Or shame.

“I’ve been seeing someone… for a while now,” she says.

Your heart seizes like you didn’t already know. “That so?” “I have a boyfriend. Joel”

You sit up straighter. The bottle in your hand nearly slips. Of course she did, you’d already seen his hands all over her through a screen. You’d seen the pictures. But hearing her say it?

“Right,” you reply. Sharper than you mean it to be.

“I thought you were gone,” she stammers. “You were. You didn’t call, Joel. We were done, I had to move on. I—I didn’t know if I’d even talk to you again, its been three years.”

“I wasn’t,” you snap, then stop yourself. Swallowing it down. “I’ve never been done.” You were gone though. That’s what made it worse. You make your voice calm, “I know baby, you’re not mine anymore.”

“He’s not…” she trails off. “He’s good. Nice. My friends like him. My mom likes him.”

“But you don’t love him.”

The words come out low. Flat. A statement, not a question.

She doesn’t reply.

“That’s what I figured” you mutter.

“I tried,” she says. “I really tried, I am trying.”

You let the silence sit there. Let it stretch until it’s  unbearable.

“Does he know?”

“What?”

“About me, bout’ Sarah.”

She hesitates. “No.”

That makes something dark flood through your veins. She hadn’t let him into that part of her life. Hadn’t given him you.

You lean your head back against the headboard and exhale through your nose.

“He make you laugh?” you ask, voice smoother now. Drawn out. Measured. “That loud, hiccupy laugh you used to hate? The one you’d try to hide behind your hand…”

Silence.

“He ever look at you like you hung the fuckin’ moon?” you keep going, spiraling. “Touch you like he was scared he’d wake up and find you weren’t real?”

“Joel—”

“Does he know how you like it?” you say, cutting her off. “Slow? Or real fuckin’ rough when you get all needy?” Your voice drops, gravely now. “You still get needy like that, baby girl?”

She gasps.

That sound does something to you. Sets your blood on fucking fire.

“You shouldn’t—” she starts to protest.

“You can hang up whenever you want,” you say. “But will you?”

She doesn’t—won’t, you know her still, like the back of your hand. You can hear her breaths getting quicker now, little pants that make you feel feral. Can almost feel the warmth of it against your skin, like it used to be, her mouth pressed to your neck in the dark.

“Tell me to quit,” you growl. “Say it, and I’ll stop.”

She doesn’t.

Not for a long, long second.

“I can’t,” she whispers, like she’s convincing herself.

It’s small. Sweet. But it shatters something in you. Broke the seal on years of buried want.

You lean your head back, stare at the ceiling like it can ground you now.

“I haven’t been able to get you out of my head.” you say, voice low and leveled. “Doesn’t matter what I’m doing. I’ll be drivin’ or sittin’ on the porch playing some stupid song on the guitar, or cookin’ dinner and then—boom. There you are. In my mind. In my fuckin’ chest. Hauntin’ me.”

You hear her exhale, shaky and meek.

“I think about your sweet little mouth” you continue, slower now, like you’re giving each word space to land. “The first time that you kissed me. How fuckin’ soft you were. How you looked up at me after like you couldn’t believe what we were doing, like it terrified you… but you still wanted more.”

A soft, broken little whimper comes through the speaker. You bite a grin back Your voice sinks down. Rougher now. “Where’s he at baby? He there right now?”

A pause.

“…Yeah,” she says. “He’s in the living room. Video games. Got his headset on.”

You breathe out slow. “That right?” your nostrils flare, scoff slipping out “Playin games with his buddies instead of takin’ care of his girl?”

“Mhm.”

Now that she said it, you can hear it if you listen real close—that faint, metal sound of gunfire, music coming through her walls. It makes your jaw tighten. Puts sickness into your gut.

“Does he make you feel like this?”

She doesn’t answer. Not with words anyway.

You push. “He know how to make you come baby? Ever whisper in your ear just right? Know how to make you come with just his voice?”

“No,” she sighs.

You lean your head back, close your eyes.

“You still have it?” you ask. “The toy we bought. The one with the app?”

You hear her suck in a breath.

“Yes.”

“It charged?”

“…Yes.”

“Good,” you coo. “You wanna turn it on f’me?”

You hear her fumbling quietly under the sheets. Then a faint beep. You put the phone on speaker, and open up the app, expecting it to say disconnected, deleted. No device found.

But it doesn’t.

It syncs.

She never unpaired it.

The screen lights up.

“You been holding onto that all this time?” you ask, voice a little jagged.

“Didn’t have the heart to get rid of it.”

You smile. Dark. Possessive.

“You gonna let me make you feel good?” “Joel” “What are you wearin’ right now?” She hesitates, but you have her now. You know how she works. “Just an old shirt, lacy undies, they’re black.” You hold back a groan, reaching for your jeans to palm yourself, to soothe the ache already growing there. “I want you to put it over top of those lacy panties, okay sweet girl?” You sigh, “can you do that for me?”

She shifts. A quiet gasp. Shaky inhale. You wait until the signal confirms—ready.

“You’re gonna listen to me now, darlin’. Real close.” you say, tone going firm. “You’re gonna keep your voice down. Don’t need him hearin’ you.”

You tap the screen—tiny pulses, just enough to tease her.

“Feel that?”

“mhm,” she hums.

“Good. That’s mine.”

A sharper sound slips from her throat.

You push it a little higher. “You still so fuckin’ sensitive, baby? You always used to get like this when you were scared of gettin’ caught. All worked up, all squirmy, tryin’ not to moan.”

“I am,” she says, almost like she’s crying. “God—yes I am.”

“Remember how I used to touch you when we were still sneakin’ around? In the truck, your daddy’s bathroom on the 4th? Fuckin’ on that camping trip?” You swipe up on the app—stronger now. “You’d come so fast for me. Couldn’t help it huh? My needy girl.”

She whimpers.. You bump up the intensity all the way. Watching the light pulse faster.

“That’s it. Take it. Let me ruin you a little baby. Just like I used to,” you turn it off, then growl “take off your panties.”

You can hear her breath falter, then she shifts again. You think about the way her hips probably rolled under the covers. Her hand pressed tight to her mouth

“Good girl.” You turn the toy back on, “okay baby, now I want you to take your other hand and put a finger inside your right little  pussy f’me okay? Nice ‘n slow.”

You turn the toy back on, low.

She lets out the sweetest sound, it makes your cock jump.

You’re throbbing now, heavy and pulsing. Your free hand drifts lower again, rubbing against the thick line in your jeans. It would be so simple. Just a few strokes. Just a little more pressure. The sounds she’s making are almost enough to send you over the edge.

But you don’t.

You move your palm to let it rest flat over your stomach, breathing hard, cock aching. But you keep your hand still.

Cause’ this isn’t just about getting off.

Its about her. About giving her pleasure. About letting her know she’s still yours, even if you can’t take her back. It’s about apologizing without saying it, showing in a way she can still understand.

“You gettin’ close?” you ask, voice shaking, hoarse now.

She moans for you. “Yes. Yes. Please—”

You shush her, “Don’t forget he’s right there,” you say, voice lowering. “Your little boyfriend on the other side of that wall. You think he’d like hearin’ how soaked you are for someone else, for me?” She’s falling apart for you—wrecked, raw, beautiful—and your restraint snaps, you realize you’ve let your hand drift; dragging your hand slow over denim.

You whisper her name. Groan when you hear her cry out, trying not to be loud.

Its all instinct. Just muscle memory. She moaned and your body responded, desperate and sure.

But then—

“Joel,” she gasps, the panic in her voice coming out syrupy. She’s right there, you know it. “Don’t stop. Don’t you fuckin’ dare move that toy from your clit.” It comes out desperate, “just keep fucking yourself with your fingers, just like I used to.” 

You can hear it. The way her breathing stutters. The small, slick sounds you remember like your own heartbeat. You turn the intensity of the toy down to low, hear her sigh half relief, half frustration.

“If I were there with you I’d fuck you nice ‘n slow,” you say. “Pin you down and make you come until you were cryin’. Breakin’ for me like you always did. You remember that, baby girl? How I’d keep goin’ till you’d beg for mercy?”

“Yes, yes, please—Joel, fuck.” She sings your name, like a hymn, reverent—like it still means something. Like she still needs you. Rolling off of her tongue like if she stops you’ll disappear.

Your hand stills. Frozen right over the bulge in your jeans. Your chests twisted.

“You’re gonna come f’me now.” you drawl into the phone, “Nice and quiet, baby. Let me hear how pretty you sound.”

You hit the high setting. The one she always used to fight. The one that made her toes curl and her voice shake.

You hear her break

She comes hard—biting it back, but you hear it. Feel it, almost. Those wrecked little sounds. The ones she makes just for you. The soft sobs, she tries to bury. Hear her try to smother it in her pillow. The app blinks frantic on your screen. Her body gives out on the other end of the line. Even if you can’t see it, you know it’s magnificent, face hot, tears welling, chest heaving. You picture her fucked out beneath you, glowing like an angel.

You hum her name. Groan when you hear her cry out, trying her best not to be loud. It’s not enough. Her voice through a phone, the memory of her body, the ghost of her skin. And you sit there.

Rock hard. Leaking.

Still.

You don’t finish.

Don’t let yourself, can’t.

You let the ache stay where it is. Let it pulse behind your zipper, inside your ribcage, let it take root there…

Because that’s the price, isn’t it?

Wantin’ her, but never quite havin’ her. Not fully. Not no more.

You listen to her breathing settle. Let the silence sit thick between you both.

And when she finally speaks, her voice wrecked and breathless.

“He’s never made me feel like this,” you can hear her sniffle, clear her throat, “it’s always going to be you.”

All you could do was whisper back,

“I know baby girl, I know”

///

You close the app with slick, trembling fingers. Pull the blanket up to your chin, like it might smother the heat still blooming under your skin.

He’s still there, on the phone, breathing. 

You don’t speak.

Neither does he.

Then, gentle as breath. “Goodnight, Joel.”

Silence.

He doesn’t say it back.

The call ends.

You stare at the screen for a second longer, then turn it face-down on the bedside table. A moment later, your bedroom door creaks open.

“Hey,” he says, voice easy. “Game ended early. You still up?”

You flinch. Throat dried out, hoping your face won’t give anything away. “Yeah. Just… scrolling.”

He strips off his hoodie, climbs into bed, kisses your cheek. Calls you beautiful, calls you his, calls you babyj.

You let him wrap an arm around your waist and let him think he’s the only one who touched you tonight.

///

You sit on the bed, phone screen dimming in your hand. The the line gone stale against your ear, static buzzing, a somber reminder.

You stay still for a while, letting it wash over you, not away. You let yourself drown in it.

Then you stand. Walking down the hall. Flicking on the bathroom light.

The mirror doesn’t flinch. But you do.

You stare at yourself like you’re trying to remember who you used to be. Who she used to see.

You grip the sink, white-knuckled. Eyes tired. Zipper still tight. Chest still rising too fast.

You close your eyes.

Not sayin’ a word, thinking about burying this all over again. 

And you do, because you don’t deserve it.

Because you promised you’d become a ghost.

[hanaybuns]

karamatsu is officially... k-k-k-k-kind?!

guys i still think its pretty significant that karamatsu is now officially described as "kind" in his character description.

like, it's been this kind of odd point of contention whether karamatsu is actually considered "kind" in canon. especially since the director said in 2016 that he's kind because he likes the idea of himself being kind, rather than actually being a kind hearted person.

i feel like this characterization is interesting because 1) it was written almost a decade ago so there have likely been many many changes since then and 2) you almost can't really prove this wrong one way or another? like lets say it's true and every time he has been kind, its because he likes the idea of being a kind guy, well that would kind of dampen his stronger character moments, like when he punched osomatsu or confessed to losing the letter in the movie.

but you also have evidence to support it, seeing as there'll be some moments where he looks like he's going to do the right thing, but ends up not doing it because it's not convenient for him. so i do think even now it kind of rings true, but i can't bring myself to fully believe that that's his motive every time he does something kind.

that being said, the head writer has gone on record calling him "kind" and "a good guy" a couple times in interviews and talks (according to jp twitter lol, but please please please take with a grain of salt), so I think there might be a slight difference in the way they interpret his character. but now that the director is gone and the head writer is still there, its interesting that we finally get the k word in his character description.

now, google translate is crappy and subject to mistakes, but i think that the "doesn't listen to what others say" part might be alluding to the idea of him being kind for himself rather than for others. i mean, we have entire skits revolving around the fact that he won't listen to what other people say in favor of doing his own thing

but i still think it's crazy that we actually got the word kind in his description. this is up there with jyushimatsu's description saying that he can be calm at times

like these are character traits that are objectively true, of course jyushi can be calm at times and kara is kinder compared to his brothers. but these were more so characteristics that shined through during moments within the show, not canonized descriptions.

jyushi is defined by his high energy, so the occasional calmness is a subversion of expectations. when you add it into his character description, the calm moments that he has will no longer subvert expectations, but instead reinforce the information we've been given about the character. it lends to the depth of his character and makes him feel more well rounded rather than a gag character that can sometimes be serious.

similarly, karamatsu being a narcissist is his main thing. so those moments of kindness that he had felt like a nice little flourish that made him more likable. now, those moments of kindness are a solidified part of his character, so we expect kindness from him rather than being pleasantly surprised when we get it.

i mean, just look at karamatsu's character description from the takoyaki party movie

"Second son of the Matsuno family. NEET, virgin. A rare narcissist. He doesn't listen to others. "Hmph, I love you."(ai shiteru ze)"

like do you see what i mean now? the older descriptions are more barebones and gag-oriented. they're describing what you need to know to get the punchline. these new character descriptions give you a better look at the whole picture.

anyways, this does make me very excited to watch the new season and see where they take these characters. also, everyone had very interesting thoughts about the new season in my last post, and i really enjoyed reading them!

[wewontbesleeping]

Hmmm maybe some of the choices I’ve made in the past 29 years have been the wrong ones. That’s a good thought exercise for right before bed.

[lesbiheon]

not mx related but I’m still filled w adrenaline after seeing Deftones & Fleshwater this past Saturday ahhhh!!!!! if you ever get a chance to see either one it’s highly highly worth it their performances are incredible

[yourqueenb]

Feeling another random burst of self confidence (probably due to lack of sleep honestly) so have a heavily made-up eye reveal I guess? 😂

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[dilf-docs]

Call It What You Want

husband!pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: you and pedro are married, but you've kept it a secret up to the point you sometimes forget there's supposed to be a golden band on your finger. but then you both get cast in your first movie together. the chemistry is off the charts, and it starts to catch upon you: will the lines between shipping and reality finally blur?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (ñom), smut, dry humping, oral (m. receiving) while pedro wears the skirt™️ (welcome to another episode of the writer's barely disguised fetish), p. in v., teeny bit of angst because i malfunction if i don't bring sad vibes to the function, the worst ever attempt of comedy witnessed by human kind, they're so down bad it hurts, jealous!reader, possesive!pedro, reader speaks spanish and may or may not have direct/indirect latino blood somewhere, use of spanglish but no translations ☹️ (boo go do your homework, citizens. that's what u get for making my dieter bravo fic flop BYE), i transcripted two real interviews for this so keep those likes, reblogs and comments up in the air where i can see 'em 🪓🪓

word count: 11,706 words

side note: hello! this is me, sliding my cv to become president of the pedro pascal fics. i'm kidding, just on duty to fulfill another request 🫡 believe it or not, i envisioned something like this but for myself IJBOL we have to keep the delusional levels UP!! i hope this meets ur expectations, it was fun to write :)

part: prev | masterlist | next

"Please welcome, the internet's newest darling, Y/n L/n!"

You walk into the set, cameras flashing bright and the band playing on the back. You hug Jimmy Fallon, and when he notices your body trembling he tells you everything will be alright. So did your manager before you stepped inside, but you can't help the nerves. You've never been this big before, and now it's all coming down together without letting you breath.

You take your seat and so does Jimmy.

"Hello, Y/n. This is your first time here, right?"

"Am I being too obvious?" you snort. The crowd laughs with you.

"Don't worry. It happens, especially when you're so young"

"Oh, please" you blush. "I can promise you there are kid actors who could handle this better than I am right now"

"Kid stars?" he lets out one of his famous cackles. "No need to be humble. You are great! Let's just talk about the year you've had: big breakout roles, ascend to fame, you're rocking it!" the crowd cheers, and you again turn into a flustered mess.

"Yeah, I suppose. It's hard to dimension when you've started as an extra for popular shows, to now being, you know, the main face of projects. But I could get used to it" you smile, "it's been a dream. I still can't believe it sometimes, look- I'm shaking"

The camera pans closer to the hand you're showing to Jimmy.

"Oh my God, even big stars like you get nervous"

"Big star? I wish I could feel like a constellation. I'm feeling more like a red dwarf star, baby"

The whole place bubbles in laughter. You feel better, your manager even giving you a thumbs up from behind the cameras.

"So, Y/n" Jimmy says once the laughter dies. "You just got casted in the upcoming Gladiator II movie, directed by Ridley Scott. How does it feel to be on your first big movie, alongside names like Paul Mescal, Denzel Washington and Pedro Pascal?"

You try to steady your heartbeat. "First of all, I have to say, it's such an honor to work with Scott. I grew up watching his movies. Like, Thelma and Louis is definitely my go-to movie. So, like, getting paired with such a talented cast is as awesome as terrifying" you answer with a laugh.

"Talking about that, you see" he leans closer, like he'll tell a secret. "I've heard things about you and a certain future co-star of yours"

You shift your position on the couch, your ring(less) finger itching. You have to avoid breathing in relief when Jimmy pulls out a picture.

"Oh. My. God"

He stiffles a laugh. No way. Has the room's temperature suddenly gotten hotter? Why is your face burning?

"Will you tell us the story behind this?" he asks, the camera focusing on the picture in question. The audience laughs, and you pray to God this is a nightmare, because it's too much embarrasment for a human to bear.

"Okay" you clear your throat, coughing awkwardly. "For my 25th birthday, I uploaded a bunch of pictures on Instagram, including ones where I was a teenager" you begin to giggle, "So. Um, there was this one, you see, that's, me, in my childhood home's bedroom, and my fans were quick to notice the poster above my bed"

"You mean, this one?" and Jimmy points it out. You cover your face with your palms. "It's a... Narcos poster" the audience laughs as you get redder. "A Pedro Pascal's Narcos poster"

"I know" you groan. "Picture this: me 18, and while my friends had posters of their favorite bands and artists, I was so different because I had a whole ass poster of a crime drama show about the world's most famous drug dealer on my bedroom" you recall with a laugh. "It was hard to explain to my mom. I believe she thought I wanted to sign for the DEA or something. When I told her I was going to be an actress, she was so relieved! She said: Oh, well. You'll die, but of hunger! Not a bullet in your head, at least"

"Oh. I'm so sorry. You proved her wrong though!"

"I did! Don't worry, Jimmy. She's my biggest fan now" you look at a specific camera before saying, "Te amo mami!"

"I see you speak spanish. I sometimes forget" he comments. "You've got one thing in common with Pedro, it seems. Think that'll make working with him less awkward?"

"I just hope he forgives me or I'm capable of moving out of the country and changing names" you giggle. "Pedro, lo siento!"

"Well, that's Y/n L/n, everyone! Pedro Pascal's number one fan" you burst out laughing in shame. "More on her lastest movie after the break"

mandoshoney: tell me i'm not the only one who started shipping pedro pascal and y/n l/n PLEASE can't wait to get content of them interacting ㅤㅤann-gell: mandoshoney y/n's pedro pascal's controversially young gf era starts now! i wonder how the press tour for #gladiatorII will go 🤔 unhing3dprincess: i bet my grandma they are dating ㅤㅤstarlightt180: unhing3dprincess ptwt can never tweet like normal ppl…wdym you're betting your grandma?!!!?

You were never a fan of secrets.

But then Pedro waltzed into your life with his charming smile and iconic mustache, and before you knew it, you had married him off in some church in California one random sunday morning ("I love you so much, can't wait to marry you, cariño" "If you can't wait any longer, why not now?")

Flash forward, four years later, and you'd think such event would be plastered all over the internet. But there is a reason why only you, family, a selected number of friends and your agents knew: you kept it a secret.

To the world, he was Chile's most elegible bachelor and you were a young rising star. The public loved both of you for the same reasons: charming persona and acting skills. Yet inside the privacy of your home, he was Pedro and you were y/n, wife and husband; he was yours as you were his.

And of course, no marriage is perfect, and your first real challenge is rather funny: you both get casted in your first movie together.

It shouldn't be hard, but it is. Being inside the Gladiator II set during seven months, so far away yet so close at the same time, was torture. You were Rome's empress and he's Marcus Acacius, yet behind the scenes, the actual married couple were you both.

It was hard to pretend you didn't know what he looked like without clothes when he wore his bathing suit, or that you didn't know his favorite food when Paul asked, or acting like you weren't interested in dating when a local in Malta during your trip at the beach asked you out (he didn't know who you were. You were flattered when he called you pretty in such a hot European accent, but then Pedro appeared from seemingly "nowhere" and you remembered what your real favorite accent was. He immediately called you bonita after that)

It was so hard to keep hands to yourself when he walked by you, covered in fake blood. To not think about licking it all over and under his armour. So was to pretend the thought of dry humping him with his Roman skirt on wasn't tempting. Or that the urge to kiss him got harder and harder to fight each passing day, even getting to a point where you would envy Connie for being able to kiss your husband in the open more, a privilege you didn't have.

You were loosing your mental health here. But Pedro was no better.

It was so hard to see you, the Moroccan sun shining over your features like you were an angel. Otherworldly. That he'd see red when you'd finish filming a scene with Joseph, forcing himself to interrupt the small chat you'd engage in after. He too couldn't keep pretending he didn't want to tear off those silk dresses out of your body, and kiss you out in the open like Joseph did.

He almost failed once, cornering you in the hallway of the hotel you were staying. His hot breath lingered on your neck. I miss you, he had said. You felt his hard brush the inner of your thigh. We can't, you whispered in a dragged out voice.

It was hard.

So you gave him your used panties, and you swear you could hear him jacking off in the bathroom of his room, next to yours. He'd screamed your name, and your hand had found it's way to your dripping cunt, doing what he was supposed to do; touching you the way he did. And you came, drowned out moans against your pillow. But it wasn't like when he did it.

But God has heard your prayers.

For the first time in weeks, you're lucky. You find Pedro sitting alone in the cafeteria, his phone in hand. He's still wearing his armour and skirt, not bothering to change for the break. You aren't God's strongest soldier, but you're trying not to go down on him so badly right here and now.

"Hey" he raises his head when he hears your voice, smile adoringly. It only grows wider when he notices you alone. "Thought you'd never get rid of Paul. He's like, stitched to you"

"Same can be said about you and Joseph" you sit across him, and despite most of his tone being playful, there are still hints of jealousy behind. It arouses you deeply, and with this hot summer day above you, your skin isn't the only thing that's getting sticky.

"In case you haven't read the script, I'm his wife" you wink. "Sorry this is how you find out"

He laughs loudly, and God, how have you missed that laugh. Sure, it's been there when you've been out with the cast together, but it doesn't tingle your chest as when you're the cause of it; it feels like it's for you only, and that's what makes it special.

"I miss you so much" he whispers, his hand sliding across the table, finding yours. His thumb carresses your soft palm, and you melt under Pedro's tender touch.

"I do too" you sigh, but it's instantly replaced by what could only be described as a smug face. You lean closer, whispering on his ear, the warm meeting cold. He shivers. "Wanna know something?"

"I'm all ears"

"I just came back from walking. Guess what?No one is 'round here" you lean back against your chair, shit-eating grin on your face as all his body tenses up. "Made sure of it. The trailer zone is empty too"

Pedro gulps, his adam's apple bobbing as his eyes look at you.

"Y/n" calling your name as a warning.

"What? Can't a girl find ways to have her husband all for herself?" you snort. "Please say yes" you let go of his hand, but the free fingers now travel across his broad chest, taunting him. "C'mon, we both deserve a break"

He can't say deny you anything, can he? You know it, he knows it.

Before you register, his big hand engulfs yours as you run across the set. You giggle at his rushed steps, even more when you stand before his trailer and he's fumbling his slippery hands with the doorknob, sloppy movements erratic.

"But you told me to stop" you tease, and he doesn't even let you add more because he's pushing you inside, forcing you with rough calloused hands to a chair and then you to sit over his lap.

"Fuck, babygirl. I've spoiled you way too much" he groans against your lips. "Lo sabes, ¿verdad? Just can't say no to you"

Your eyes darken dangerously, the hunger on them mirroring his own.

"How could you ever say no to this?"

You press your chest against his broad one as your lip bites into his lower one, teasing. Pedro feels his underwear getting tighter when your tongue finds its way inside his mouth, even getting a glimpse of the taste of the strawberries you had earlier before.

He deepens the kiss, and when you pull away to catch your breath, he doesn't waste his lonely mouth and busies himself with the task of kissing your sun-kissed neck, licking and pressing his lips under your jaw. Pedro goes even lower, down until he's reached your collarbone, making you groan a bit under his wet sloppy needy mouth. He's enjoying how putty you are under his intense kissing, fingers in his curls, that have begun to damp under the ablaze of the small space and pleasure that fills the air.

"Kiss me again in my lips" you whine after a while of him teasing you with kisses that get only rougher. "Pretty please, papi"

You cup his face in your hands, and Pedro's back to kissing you in the mouth, tasting all of your insides as he hasn't had in what feels like a lifetime.

"Of course, baby. Missed this pretty mouth" he mumbles in between hot kisses, his now growing boner pressing into you.

"Baby" you giggle. The skirt he's got on may hide it, but your fingers refused to wait, pulling it up. His bulge presses against the shorts he's got under the skirt, and you can feel your pussy and mouth drool. "We have to do something about this big boy" your hands pull down the short, leaving just his underwear on. He's about to remove the skirt, but your demanding hands stops him. "This stays"

His brown concerned eyes make you laugh, but you don't give him time to think about it, rather grinding against his erection. Pedro's breath hitches when he feels your daring movements, bucking his hips against yours.

The friction is addicting, and he captures your lips once again to make you feel what he can't with words: how fucking good this feels.

You keep moving over his aching dick. Your husband throws his head back, groaning in pleasure at the way your hips move against him, knowingly. His hands find their way to your ass under the flowy almost translucent skirt you chose to change in, gripping the rosy skin tightly, hands almost covering all of it.

"You wore this for me, right, cariño? Knew I couldn't say no" he groans, firm hands on your cheeks, the grinding meeting his hips now harsher. "Less with you walking around with this slutty skirt of yours"

You make little sounds he's obssesed with, dripping out of your filthy mouth.

"Fuck" Pedro groans after a while, "I need to have you, mami. Missed you so much" eager fingers make it to your top. He growls, deep within him―guttural, ready to pull it off as he mumbles naughty wife when he realizes you got no bra on, chastising you for a "rushed" plan that seemed planned all along, when a sound cuts through the air.

You both stop.

The sound gets clearer.

It's a knock. A knock at his door.

A knock in Pedro's trailer.

And you are inside. Both.

While you're grinding him.

With his skirt on.

(It's time to build a bomb and kill yourselves off and whoever is stading behind that door)

"Pedro!" a familiar accent calls. Peudrou. It's Paul. "Hey, man. Just wondering if you are here"

He's debating on speaking up when he sees your red face and rising-falling chest before him.

"Answer" you whisper breathlessly. He tries not to groan when he fills you slip out of the spot in his middle while also trying not to think about murdering Paul as soon as he gets out.

Aside from the order, you're unexpectedly quiet, and Pedro quirks an eyebrow at you. He knows you better―you're his wife after all, and if there's something he's aware of, is your inability to loose.

"I'm here" tone clipped and annoyed. But no footsteps backtracking are heard: the Irish man is still there.

You bite your lip, watching the skirt with his legs spread, a sight too tempting. Also, he was still hard, as hard as the task to not go and keep doing your job.

Oh, fuck this shit.

Your devilish hand equals the grin in your face, fingers making their way toward his unattended bulge.

"What are you doing here?" Paul asks, but Pedro's attention has completely deviated, now focused on how they land right over his clothed dick, skirt pulled up by your other hand. "I thought you were at the cafeteria"

"Yeah?" but it comes out strained, yet the younger man doesn't notice or comment.

His hips raise when your fingers press his member, massaging it.

"Yeah" he uses a tone that equals a duh. "You texted me yourself"

Pedro rolls his eyes, wishing desperately he would go away, annoying him just as much as a fly hovering above fresh food. Talking about food, fuck, weren't you hungry? He tried to warn you, holding your wrist, but all resolve was lost the moment you looked in his eyes: he immediately pulled down his briefs, dick sprouting hard.

"Well, changed my mind" his tone falters in between words, member now free from the confines of his tight underwear.

"Are you tired, man? You sound tired" Paul comments on his tone. "Came to rest?"

You spit on your hand, and he gulps.

"Somethin' like that"

You start to jerk him off, leaving little wet kisses and licks just above his dick. Pedro's eyes are hypnotized, glued to every lick of yours across his girth, the spit making your movements smoother. Sexier. Fuck.

"Well, sorry to break it to you but rest time is over. They want us back on set now"

Your tight needy lips are wrapped around his his length and it's so hard to keep the talk normal when he justs wants to yell at Paul to fuck off. Your hand is there too; you are as of help as much as you aren't.

"I'll be there, Paul, just―Fuck!"

But his attempt to cover a moan doesn't go unnoticed.

"Are you alright in there?" he tries to enter, but Pedro locked the door. He's yelling he's fine, but Mescal doesn't sound convinced. "I can't go inside; it's locked. Are you sure you are okay, mate?"

"Didn't want you to take a picture of me drooling on my sleep" he manages to get out in a monotone voice. A real win if you take into account you've gotten to a point where you squeeze under his cock, massaging his balls.

"Smart move!" he chuckles from outside. "I guess I'll see you there"

Pedro covers a moan with his palm as he's throwing his head back in pleasure. He can feel his orgams looming over, minstrations growing sloppier around his pulsating cock, the need to fill your greedy evil mouth with his seed making him sick. He's a simple man: he just wants his pretty wife to fuck his cock silly and come in her mouth in peace. Is that so hard to get this days?

Paul seems to be finally gone as Pedro can't keep containing his grunts anymore, steps moving: until said steps sound closer again.

"Oh, I almost forgot, have you seen Y/n? I can't find her anywhere" it's coming. His orgasm is coming in the absolute worst moment. He can feel you gagging at his hard rock cock, hitting the back of your throat now. Still, your hands don't loose their grip on his cock and skirt, determination filling that sexy little body of yours. It was rather admirable the effort you were putting in this. "Think she went to the beach? She said she loved it. God, that little rebel. Anyway, if you see her, tell her-"

He leans his head back once again, seeing stars. No one knows him like his wife, truly.

The sight of you drooling from your chin, the wet sounds of him fucking himself onto your mouth as your spit-coated fingers pump his girth, you gulping down the precum from his tip, his fingers holding your face roughly by the cheeks...

"Yes, Paul, yes!" Pedro barks, barely hiding the moan that erupts from his ribcage, thick shots of his hot cum hitting your tongue and deep of the throath. "Fuck off and let me get ready"

"Jesus, mate, chill. I'm sorry. See you there"

And Paul Mescal's hovering fly ass is finally gone.

"Poor Paul" you say as soon as you pull off his length, voice raspy as you huff for air. Pedro lovingly cleans rests of your saliva and his cum from your chin as he chuckles at how much audacity, courage and horniness could fit in such a small young body. "You've ruined the friendship"

"You think?" he licks off some as you sit on his lap again, tongue directly on your face. You feel aroused again, but time's up. "It's your fault. That and this"

He points down.

"Just as you used that pretty head of yours to think of the trouble you just made, think of an excuse for Mr. Ridley about the skirt"

at0michips: wait wdym paul is sick??? ㅤㅤl-u-n-a-m: at0michips he's died vnightx: i'm wondering who'll do now the do you even know me interview with pedro now :( i was so excited!!! hope they don't cancel it :( ㅤㅤunhing3dprincess: vnightx i bet my grandma it's y/n ㅤㅤat0michips: unhing3dprincess why do u keep betting ur grandma omg 😭😭😭

"You know what I think would be fun?" Pedro comments while you wait for the interview's set to be prepared.

Tour press has finally begun. That meant you could go home for a while after the filming wrapped, just to be back for the promotion of the film. You were excited of course, the experience new and thrilling. After much needed battery recharging and husband/wife time, you were ready to take over the world.

But then Paul got sick.

Today's interview was scheduled to be him and Pedro, but since he was unavailable, they paired him with you, since you both spoke Spanish (which felt slightly racist in your opinion), and because Fred and Joseph were already paired up for the other.

You leave your coffee, knowing he's about to say something stupid or endearing, perhaps both, brown liquid probably spilling out of your mouth. Or worst, nostrils.

"Tell me"

"What if we left little hints that we're together?" his smile is one of mischief. "Like you could wear my cap, or I could wear a chain with your initial around my neck, like Ryan Gosling did at the Barbie premiere"

"Or as Taylor Swift sang" you counter. "But Pedro, dear, you're underestimating our fans. You don't think they'll match it sooner than we think?"

"Maybe" he agrees. That's just what I want. "What's funny is we're about to do a type of interview where we could blow our cover"

"Maybe" you repeat, "or maybe you don't know all about me as much as you think, Mr. Pascal"

He fake gasps, feigning hurt. "Is this a dare, Mrs. Pascal?"

"No" you try to be mature for once, cutting the banter as much as you'd like to go on and kiss him right there. "Also, remember to answer incorrectly sometimes, you know..."

"There's no way I'm letting you win though"

"Pedro, no seas necio!"

The producers arrive just in time to let you know it's ready.

"After M'lady" he's back to being charming as he is, not as husband charming but just Pedro Pascal charming. The nerve of this guy to do it in front of the LADbible crew.

"Whatever" you grumble, the nerves getting the best of you as you realize this interview may or may not give away more than you've been allowed before.

"Hello, I am Y/n L/n" you present yourself. Wow, the camera is really close. This isn't going to end well.

"And I'm Pedro Pascal"

Hearing his voice soothes you. It's okay, y/n, you got this. "And this is Do You Really Know Me- No wait, it's do you even know me. Okay, let's start again: Hello, I'm Y/n and this is-"

"I don't even know anymore" Pedro jokes, making you laugh. "Do you even know me?" he asks while looking forward, now making the crew laugh.

"This is Pedro Pascal, that'll do" you sigh.

"This is gonna be sad, she's not going to know any of these" he says, but in reality, he's mocking you, the mischief in his eyes glowing as he only looks at you tauntingly.

"Same can be said about you" you tease, "we're like a million years away"

"That's not true!" he gasps, "I watch your every move" punctuating each word. God, you try not to make a face. "I have Google alerts on you"

If he was gonna play, so were you.

"Glad to know I have you alerted" with the sweetest voice ever, seeing how his friendly façade falters for a bit at the tone you've used. You laugh, and Pedro takes the chance to laugh it off too.

After the introduction, they ask one of you to keep score, and you offer yourself because, well, you don't trust Pedro.

"I'll go first" you say. "Which was my first ever role in the industry? As an extra during an episode of Stranger Things, as a voice actor in A dog's purpose" you can't help but laugh, "or as a back-up dancer in Hustlers?"

"In Hustlers?" Pedro inquires in disbelief. "You're telling me you were in Hustlers?! I didn't even know you could dance!"

Lies. You and Pedro sometimes put some bachata and dance in the kitchen. God bless Juan Luis Guerra.

"Jennifer Lopez and I are practically besties" you answer nonchalant.

You know the answer. He does too. But he chooses the last one for comedic purposes.

"I'll go with Hustlers. Now that I'm looking at you, you do have a... dancer face"

"It's okay, you can say the forbidden word. I'll take it as a compliment" you laugh, "you're wrong, though. The answer is Stranger Things"

"No way!" and it sounds as if he genuinely didn't know. Good lying son of a bitch; Jim Carrey on Liar, Liar would've been proud.

"Yes. If you look in the background of season two, on this one episode where Nancy and Steve appear to have broken up during a halloween party, you can see me drinking from a cup on a corner"

"That's so crazy"

"Yeah, I was twenty already, yet playing a highschooler" you giggle. "Wow, time flies by. Anyway, we're both at zero. Your turn"

"What film did my dad not let me see at the cinema when I was, uh, ten years old?" Pedro reads from his card. "Rambo: first blood, The Breakfast Club, Day of The Dead"

"I'm going to base this in the year you were born. Okay, so 1975. Let's see" one of the things Pedro loves about you is that you're like a film encyclopedia, but right now, that'll cost him a point. "They all came out the same year, and they were also R rated. Hmmh, I'll choose The Breakfast Club"

Your analysis was just mindless bragging really. You knew the answer the moment he started reading the question, because the anecdote came during a time he heard you listening to the movie's soundtrack ("Did you know that my dad...")

"You complain about Paul all the time, but you're just the same" he comments. "She's a real competitor, people!"

You flush in embarrasment. "Okay, that's one for me. Next question" you read the card in your hands. "What pet do I own? An orange cat named Louis after my favorite singer, a fish, or a Shih Tzu named after my brother"

The orange cat lives with you both. You're curious as to how he'll answer.

"You aren't naming a Shih Tzu frickin' Fernando" he laughs, so loud, it ends up catching up to you and the crew. "I'll go with the cat"

"That's correct" you lament. "How would you know?"

As if the damn cat doesn't love him more than he loves you.

"I follow you on Instagram" he defends himself. Clever. "We are, um, what do you call it-"

"Oomfs"

"I'm not gonna try to pronounce your made up language. Okay, my turn. Which of these characters I've played in Saturday Night Live? Naughty daddy, protective mom, or weird uncle who has a creepy sneeze" he reads out loud in a confused tone.

This is easy. It was all over your timeline.

"Protective mom" you answer on a beat.

"This isn't fair, that was really popular!" he complains.

"It's still two for me and one for you" you mock. "Now, what is the nickname the internet has given me? I won't give you clues because it's an easy one"

"Easy? You said we were million of years apart and now I'm supposed to know?"

"Well, you seem to manage Instagram so I think you'll be just fine" you tease, and Pedro just wants to rip that smirk off of you. So he caves in first.

"It's people's princess"

"What?!" your eyes grow comically large, shimmering with betrayal as you shout with an incredulous tone. "I can't believe you know" more like can't believe you said it.

"You're royalty! How am I supposed to not know that, internet darling? Besides, told you: I keep my eye on you" and he winks.

This motherfucker. Oh, he's totally sleeping on the couch tonight.

"Talk about internet darlings" your snarky tone comes out, and Pedro knows he's pissed his competitive wife off. "I guess we have a tie. Your turn"

"What are the initials of my full name?" his brows furrow. "I forget. JBPP, JPBP, JBPP"

"José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal" you recite. "B, of course"

"But that's too easy, everyone with Google knows it!" but then he's leaning into your ear, whispering in a very low voice to make sure only you hear. "I'll let it pass, though. Love hearing you pronounce my name, mami"

Your face grows obscenely red. "I'm back ahead. Let's see if you can keep up. Okay, here it goes" you read the card, "what is the director I've stated I want to work with? Greta Gerwig, Pedro Almodóvar, or Quentin Tarantino"

"Pedro Almodóvar, no? You said you were jealous I had already worked with him" he playfully nudges you. Too much contact, face hot again. Maybe in group interviews you'll do better, because right now, you're doing a rather poor job at controlling yourself, even as an actor; you can already picture your agent pulling her hair behind the cameras.

"It's Greta Gerwig, actually"

"What?! No way, you told me this!" he grumbles. "This game is rigged"

"Don't get me wrong, I'm still jealous. I just think working with Greta Gerwig is peak womanhood, and I gotta live that. So, Greta, if for some reason this silly video gets to you, call me. I promise I'm not that childish"

"She is" Pedro slips in, "don't call her. So unprofessional" in a mocking exaggerated tone.

"Whatever, you sore looser. Me three, you two. Next!"

"Fine. Which of these songs would I have played at my funeral? My Heart Will Go On, Purple Rain, Nothing Compares To You"

He looks at you, silently pleading you to not answer correctly. Your competitive side screams in agony.

"I have no idea. Why do I feel you've already said it somewhere, though? I'll go with Nothing Compares To You, because the first its too corny for you and the second too epic"

He scoffs, amused at the fact that you did obey, but at what cost? Pedro's well aware his princess can get as competitive, if not worse, than Paul.

"You're saying I'm not epic enough for Purple Rain? Too bad, because that's the answer" you grunt, crossing your arms. "That's right, I am cool enough to have it played. I guess we're tied again!"

"No, you don't loose a point. It's still three to two. This just gives you the opportunity to tie"

"W-wait a minute"

"Settle down" you pat his thigh, "you can still try, handsome"

He gulps when your hand meets his skin, despite the layer of clothes. It's still something that gets him on edge, no matter the years you've known each other. And handsome? You came here for blood.

"Okay, here's your chance: what image of me became trending topic on twitter? An image of me eating a typical dish from my country, an image of me watching Deadpool and Wolverine with glasses while Hugh Jackman's shirtless scene reflects on them or C, me meeting Taylor Swift at the backstage of the Eras Tour"

"The typical dish is tempting" he muses out loud, "but I'll go with the Taylor Swift one because that sounds like something that'd trend"

"You're right" you throw your card. "I'm not complaining though. Best day of my life"

"Does this mean I'm winning?" he beams excitedly. "Oh, in your face Paul! I will finally win something!"

"Slow down, cowboy. There's still some left"

He purses his lips. "Let me have this one thing, would you? Guess not. Here it comes" he starts to read his card, "At school I competed in state competitions, in which sport? Soccer, lacrosse, swimming"

"Swimming" you answer hastily, trying not to think on Pedro wearing tight little swimsuits, as you've only seen him wearing swim trunks.

"Okay, that's dissapointing. Please continue"

"I participated in which play while I was in highschool? Hamlet, The Iliad or Much Ado About Nothing"

You doubt he remembers. The only time it ever came up, was when you visited your parent's house and a photography of you during said play was showed to him by your dad.

"The Iliad, right?" you laugh. The answer is wrong: It's Hamlet. "What? I swear it was that one! It's just you have very..." beautiful is at the tip of his tongue but he refrains himself, "...very greek features"

You can't help but laugh.

"Why of course! This is a face people go to war for"

"I agree" your heart skips a beat, "but I don't think I'll make it that far, if we talk about a war"

"You big fat liar!" you slap his arm playfully. "You've played all sort of characters, from soldiers of all nationalities and places, and like, superheroes, f*****g Joel Miller, even a DEA agent. You at least learned something!"

"Wow, slow down, this isn't a filmography recount" he jokes. Liar, you mouth to the cameras. "Okay, last one: I became a viral sensation for eating what type of sandwhich in LADbible's snack wars: BLT, PB&J, grilled cheese"

You remember the video fondly. Even your brother had sent it to you, along a text that said: Isn´t this your husband?

"PB&J, I win!" you cheer, instantly getting off the chair to do a celebratory dance. Pedro doesn't say anything, just throwing the cards away while the fondness of his eyes betrays him.

pyramiidsf: i want someone to look at me the way pedro looks at y/n mybritishstyle: guys they're just friends 😭 he's like that with all his female co-stars ㅤㅤann-gell: mybritishstyle me when i'm delusional af mandoshoney: where's that girl that's always betting her grandma??? SHE WAS RIGHTFLKRGJ

"Hello, I'm Paul Mescal. I'm here with my friends from the cast of Gladiator II" Connie and you both raise your palms to greet the camera, laughing when you realize you'd done it at the same time, "and we are going to play a game about how well we know each other for Vanity Fair" the irish man introduces the interview you're filming today.

"Did they prompt you?" Pedro speaks up, "or did you just make that up on the fly?"

You laugh a bit too loud, hoping they cut it off in the editing process.

Paul goes first, taking up a card with the first question written on it.

"Okay. Question: What's my least favorite day of the week?"

"Tuesday" answers Joseph once Paul is done reading. "Oh, you're writing it down?"

"Yeah" he answers.

"You just wrote Tuesday" Connie points out, Paul's card on his legs. You laugh along the rest.

"Yeah" he repeats laughing. "I actually, when you said Tuesday" Yeah, he said Tuesday Pedro adds on the background of laughter. "I was like...I'm gonna give everybody a point for that"

"I think I deserve a point for being observant" Connie complains.

Everyone gets a point and Paul moves towards the next question.

"What was the name of my character in Normal People?"

"Connell" both you and Joseph answer, looking at each other before squinting your eyes playfully.

"Callum" Pedro answers out loud at the same time, and you laugh. He clearly had slept when you played it for a re-watch last summer.

"No, you're out" Paul pokes Pedro next to him.

"Connel" Joseph repeats, and Fred agrees to the same answer.

Paul then asks Connie what's hers after he confirms you three.

"Connor?" she asks, confused.

"Incorrect. Three points" while pointing you three.

"You got wrong" he tells Pedro, "Callum's a different character"

"See? You just don't pay attention when you watch things" you blurt out, stopping yourself before adding the with me. It would be harder to come back from that, but so is this as everyone looks at you, even your husband, subtle panic in his eyes. Where the cameras this close? How long had you been silent?

"It's just, quick funny story" you improvise. "Pedro didn't know much about Paul's career, and as I am a fan, I took the time to show him and recommend him your stuff" Paul smiles. "Clearly, my fanatism didn't rub on Pedro but a girl can try"

He laughs, before saying "So the answer is Connell" and you try so hard to remain normal like the energy hasn't shifted.

"He only plays characters with the letter C in the name" Pedro jokes, chewing on a toothstick he seemingly pulled out of nowhere. More laughs follow, and you are so grateful for how he's handling your little metida de patada.

"What's number one on my bucket list?" he asks next, "and don't look at my answer"

The marker is the only sound to be heard, and then Pedro jokingly tries to take a peek.

"No peeking" Connie berates as Pedro laughs.

"You're not gonna be able to see that" Paul replies in an anyways tone.

You repeat the same joke, before Fred blocks you. "Not you too!"

Paul finishes after a while, Connie commenting it was long. Joseph raises his hand.

"Yes, Joseph"

"Is it to see the Great Wall of China?" he asks.

"No, but it's in that-"

"It's close, isn't it?" you interrupt.

"...family of thought" he finishes.

"It's to go and see something" Pedro points out.

"Okay. Rajasthan" tries Connie. "Go to Rajasthan, for a tour"

"Travel to South America" Paul interrupts with the correct answer, "I've never been to South America"

"I'm from South America" Pedro comments, never missing a chance to shout out his dear Chile.

Paul jokes about him getting three points while the rest of you laugh.

"I was born in South America. 17 points for Pedro"

"I want points too" you jump on the joke. "I know Spanish, so I can take you there and avoid you getting lost, mi querido amigo"

"But who was born there?" Pedro counters, "you get no points"

"I think Joseph is the only person who gets a point there" Paul adds, "because everybody just jumped on the bandwagon"

"He said to visit the Great Wall of China" Pedro protests, "which is nowhere near South America"

"It really is not" Connie agrees.

"Qué gente tan tramposa" you complain. "That's unfair. I remove my offer"

"Think about bucket list, and he came up with travel to bit" he tries to reason Joseph's point.

"And by the way, where in South America?" Pedro questions.

"Don't fight, don't fight" pleads Joseph, the calm one. Fred just sits there, enjoying the chaos.

"I want, any, I want to do a big tour of everywhere" Mescal defends himself.

Pedro doesn't back down. "'Cause it's very different"

Paul starts to get angry too. Jesus, men. Competitive men of it all.

"I know it's very different" making an annoyed face.

"Well, different is nice" you intervene, a hand placing in Pedro's left shoulder. "If you stop giving points for free, I'll come with you to the big everywhere tour"

"Alright" Paul agrees. "When's my birthday?" is the next question.

"February" all of you say.

Joseph struggles with the date first, saying seventh, then fourth. Fred tries with ninth, Pedro with eight, and then Joseph starts counting from one to two. Fred counts from eleven to twelve.

"Second" Mescal reveals. "Point to Joseph"

"Oh my God, you guys are good" Connie mentions.

"That's all my questions" and it's time to move on the next one: which happens to be your dear husband, Pedro.

"Paul is like" he brings up while the toothpick dances on his teeth, "Paul is motivated to catch up on points. He's coming for you" to pick on his competitive side as Mescal looks deep in thought.

"He's coming. He's coming" Joseph repeats as Fred laughs.

"What is my full name?"

"Oh! Pedro-" Paul tries in a blink. "Something, J? Jose? Juan?"

"Pedro Pascal, something, something" says Joseph.

"Nope"

"No?"

"Pedro Maria, Jose Maria Pascal" Paul struggles.

Pedro is about to answer when your voice cuts through the air.

"It's José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal" you recite.

"It indeed is!" he says, smiling a bit too much. "She gets a point"

"Jose Pedro Balmaceda Pascal" your husband repeats in a more english-friendly pronunciation, looking at the camera while toying with his toothpick.

"I said Jose, I said Jose" Paul protests.

Pedro shakes his head. "You said Jose, but then you put it-"

Connie takes Paul's side. "You did say Jose"

"But then you put it behind Pedro which eliminate- which disqualified you" he replies.

Paul gets angry. That sore looser.

"That's absolute bullshit"

"Don't worry mate, the game has just begun" you joke, making the man more irritated. "Think you can get ahead of me?"

"Joseph is still ahead, y/n" Paul counters, still irritated. "Besides, wouldn't it be cheating? You can speak Spanish!"

"So? Not like speaking a language allows you to know every person's name Paul" you mock. He just snorts, despite still being half angry. Pedro is allowed to continue, trying not to make a face at yours and Paul's banter.

"The question is, who is my favorite actor?" he reads. As the cast members laugh, he uncaps the marker with his mouth, and now you have to try not to make a face, thinking about those teeth sinking into your flesh.

Quinn raises his hand. "It's me"

"That you're my favorite actor?"

"Yeah. You said that to me once" the bald man sounds sure of it.

Paul tries to think in the background. So do you. How can you not know this? he must've brought it up at least once.

"Do you remember?" Joseph insists.

Pedro finally remembers. "I said you were- I said I thought you were special"

"Oh" he sounds rather dissapointed.

"And special can mean a lot of things" he jokes, laughing by himself. Fred laughs with you as Joseph makes a face, your laughter turning even louder when you notice Paul all moody, trying to get this point.

"Who's your favorite actor?" Paul asks, "I think we just have to shoot from the hip here guys"

"Marlon Brando?" Connie guesses.

"Is it Harrison Ford?" Fred guesses.

"Let's go with Harrison Ford just because he's my favorite actor..."

You can't believe you didn't know this. You've re-watched and watched so many Star Wars content together. He gives you a brief look, knowing you're embarrased at your lack of answer.

"As a kid?"

"He's most influent, yeah" Pedro agrees.

"What job did I have before I became a full-time actor?" is next.

"Dancer. You were a great dancer" Paul aswers. Both Fred and Joseph repeat it, adding he was specifically a go-go dancer.

"Oh, he is" you add. "Videos of you dancing are lovely. Ever thought of getting back in the bussiness?"

He laughs, what appears to be a light blush creeping up his cheeks.

"Sure, darling. When you ask me to dance, I'll be there"

Nobody comments on this, too busy waiting for Pedro to say yes or no to the answer they believe to be right. But he isn't saying it is. Now you remember why.

"Come on, come on, come on" Paul begs.

"Can any of you guys remember?" Pedro pleads.

They insist that he danced in Spain, then New York, then settle with Spain again, even Pedro confirming so. But it still isn't the answer written on the card, no matter how much the boys insist.

"Connie?" he tries. She just looks confused.

"The answer in the card is-"

"Waiter" you answer. "You were a waiter"

Now you have three points under your belt.

"Why do you always say the answer at last?!" Paul grumbles. "You are cheating!"

"I'm not" you laugh the accusation off. "You just can't accept I'm better"

"Si que lo eres" Pedro agrees. "Es divertido hacer que se enoje Paul"

"What did you say about me? It's not fair, you're probably sharing the answers!" he's still adamant on insisting with the supposed cheating issue, making you laugh.

Now it's Connie's turn, who starts with: "How many languages do I speak?"

You put a puzzled look.

"You speak seven, eight maybe" Joseph guesses. Pauls says she speaks french, "but most likely seven"

Pedro points his finger at him. "Once he gets going, he's on a roll"

"Joe's got it" Connie agrees.

"Paul, end this reign" Pedro jokes. He looks rather frustrated.

"And the bonus points" Connie offers. "Okay, bonus, what are they?"

"This is an emperor's reign" your husband adds.

Joseph answers: Italian. Danish. English. Swedish. French. Spanish. Norwegian.

Connie agrees she speaks Spanish, making you jump in excitement.

"Oh, I didn't know that!" you beam. "Wait, does that mean you did get what Pedro and I gossiped about you?"

"What?" Joseph asks.

"Nada" you quickly correct yourself. "Yo no dije nada"

"Not that much. I just speak a bit of Spanish. I mostly dominate my own language, German and English"

"You blew our cover!" Pedro nags, hitting your bare leg, yet its devoid of anger.

"He needs a bonus" comments Connie, surprised at Joseph.

"This is horrifying" Pedro says when Joseph gets another point and a fricking bonus on top of that. "This is a slaughter"

"Oh, for which film did I have a gym built in my garage?"

Both Joseph and Paul answer the question correctly, saying Wonder Woman. The latter is quick to state they both get that point.

"That's one for me" Paul says, then looks at you. "And none for you"

You stick out your tongue at him as Connie reads the next card.

"If I were to take this cast on a vacation where would I take you?"

"Ibiza" answers Joseph. Connie agrees in Spanish, with a cute and excited correcto.

Your husband feels the need to crack a joke at Quinn's expense.

"Somebody was paying attention to Connie Nielsen very closely during the shooting of this movie"

"Okay. What is my favorite curse word in Danish?"

"Fuck" Pedro tries.

"No"

"Nobody is going to get that, Connie" Paul bickers.

"Oh, I don't know any Danish" you lament.

"At least now you know how it feels" Mescal drops, making you snort. You playfully kick him on the ribs with your shoe.

"It's very simple" Connie gives as a clue. "It's the same word in every language"

"Shit" Paul tries.

"Satan" she reveals.

Everybody is laughing in confusion at that, saying there's no way you could use that.

"Vos Satan!" Connie curses.

Now it's Fred's turn.

"What is my weirdest on-set habit?"

"I haven't noticed you do anything weird on set" Paul tells.

"I have" Pedro interrupts.

They all get on a small briefing about what could it possibly be, that it was weird, and wasn't part of his character, as you ponder. It was funny before, but now Paul is behind you by a point. So think fast.

"Yeah. I would say being yourself" Pedro jokes, but surprisingly, it works.

"Me! Five points for Pedro" he celebrates as you all laugh. "Love Fred. Oh, Fred"

"Oh, oh, okay" he moves to the next question. "What is my favorite reality TV show?"

Joseph tries with Survivor and Paul with Alone. Truth is, you don't watch any show of said kind, only vagely hearing about Love Island.

"You and I have talked about reality TV" Pedro reveals, "It's just that we never identified one"

They keep guessing shows that sound like a foreign language to you.

"You know what's offensive? That I'm the second youngest of this cast and I have no idea what are you all talking about"

"She's not to be trusted" Pascal quips, "can't trust someone who doesn't appreciate the art of reality TV"

You huff, annoyed.

"Is it A&E stuff?" Pedro asks.

"Yeah, it's the competitive cheapskates" Fred answers. "It's people that really save money on everything"

Pedro gets the point because he mentioned the A&E bit.

"There's like this amazing guy that made a stew out of fish bones, and I just thought it was incredible" he shares. Then, moves to the next question. "What is my go-to crafty snack?"

Nobody remembers eating snacks on set, and Fred gives the clue that it's a drink. Joseph says it's a smoothie, and he does remember it but it isn't the answser.

"I'm thinking of something specific. That Emerge-C that you put in the water"

"Oh, that's very good" you agree, so does the rest, even discussing the best colors

"Who in the cast would I ask to bail me out of jail?"

Everyone even Pedro agree its him. Everyone gets a point, yet Joseph remains ahead.

It's Joseph's turn. "What is my favorite sport?"

"Skateboarding" Paul is so quick to answer, earning him two points for both being correct and time.

"What celebrity do I get mistaken for?"

"Daisy Edgar-Jones sometimes" says Mescal. Of course he had to bring her up.

"No, she gets mistaken for me" Joseph jokes. "Yeah, poor Daisy. But I'm writing it down"

"That was the two letters?" Pedro notices. Still, no one gets it.

It's fucking Justin Timberlake. You'd never guess that.

"What is my favorite film franchise?"

You've probaly named all the existing franchises to no avail. You think fo your dad, a huge geek, trying to remember if there is one missing.

"Oh- Lord of the Rings!" you both answer with Paul at the same time.

"C'mon!" his celebration is short lived when he realizes you tied to him.

"What is my favorite British slang word?"

Pedro says it can't be said, but Quinn insists they can, even adding it's his favorite one too.

"We can say bad words? We can say-?" but the camera beeps over it.

The answer is Bellend. What even is that? Joseph feigns sadness and Pedro keeps apologizing, even as you sit on the chair.

"Okay. I'm last"you wiggle your eyebrows with interest. "Let's see. Okay, first question: what did I take from the Gladiator II set?"

"You took something?" Joseph asks on disbelief.

"Why wouldn't I take something?"

"Is it like an item or memorabilia?" asks Connie.

"It's an item" you uncap the marker, scribbling down the answer.

"It's a short word" Fred points out, but still can't provide a guess.

"You took the rings home" Pedro answers. You snap your had on his way, probably obvious. "What? You told me" he says.

Of course Paul complains. "Hey, that isn't fair! He knew the answer before!"

"Well, if you payed more attention to me, you'd know it"

Lies. Pedro knows because it's sitting in the jewelry box inside your house.

"See? I do pay attention" Pedro playfully hits Mescal.

"I could pay you more attention" he looks at you.

"Alright, then do. Ready? Next question: what is my go-to movie? Oh, this is a good one. I'm always changing it, but most of the time I end up choosing the same one"

They all give you a puzzled look as you scribble.

"C'mon, guys! I've said it on interviews before too. Paul?" the man shrugs. "Thought you said you'd pay me more attention. Heads up, you're doing a terrible job so far!"

"Hey!" he protests. "It's not fair if the answer's changing. Give us a clue"

"You didn't give any clues to yours!" you giggle. "Besides, I don't want you to win"

"Hey, that's against the rules!"

"I'd say it depends on the season" Pedro speaks up. You quirk an eyebrow. "Like, if it's changing, I don't think your Christmas go-to movie is the same as your summer one"

"Actually" you smile fondly, "that is true. On summer, it's Mamma Mia. So I suppose, if you can't guess the one, that'll do"

"No" he smiles, cheeky. "I know it too"

"Yeah?" you challenge, "what is it, then?"

"It's Thelma and Louise" he answers, and your heart beats fast.

"How do you know?" Paul inquires. "Somebody was paying attention to Y/n L/n very closely during the shooting of this movie"

Ah, his joke from earlier. Joseph giggles behind him. Karma, he supposes.

"She said it on an interview, guys. C'mon, learn your sources!"

"Okay" you clear your throat. "What movie got me into acting?"

"Thelma and Louise" Joseph tries.

"No" you laugh, "you're just recycling the answer"

"Is it an old or modern movie?" Connie asks.

"Hmh, old" you pause, "just not... I don't know if you'll ever guess it"

"Is it a Pedro Almodóvar film?" you shake your head. "What? You're always mentioning him!"

Pedro looks into your eyes amid the others' discussion, and you can tell he remembers the conversation.

"There isn't one"

You smile, chest pounding at his soft tone.

"That's correct"

"A trick question?!" Paul yells. "I quit"

"When there's just one left?" you tease.

"Yes, because you've been hiding it all the time but no more" he counters, pointing both you and Pedro. You feel the space getting smaller, breaths going from even to noticeable. "You are sharing answers"

You try to make your breath of relief pass as a chuckle.

"I'm not even gonna win, relax. And drop the charges, please. Loose like a man"

"You didn't explain it though" Connie speaks. "What did Pedro mean?"

"While I have many movies that are inspiration to me, they aren't the reason I chose this path. I did it because I saw an Oscar's ceremony when I was 11" you explain fondly, feeling warm at the memories. "I still remember when they handed the award to Diablo Cody for best original screenplay. I don't know, man, it moved me. What it meant for young artists who came from nothing. I guess I wanted, one day, to be the one standing there, for other dreamers to see it's possible"

"Wow, that's beautiful" Connie says.

"Thank you" you get flustered. "Suppose it was worth it, you know, to do interviews about not really knowing my cast mates" and laugh.

"How does Pedro know, though?" Joseph asks.

"We talk a lot" you clear your throat. "Last one: what indie horror movie did I make a small appearence in? I'm feeling generous because it's the last so I'll give you a clue. It's a Stephen King adaptation"

Paul is the first to speak. "You where in a-"

"Yeah but it wasn't such a huge role. Don't make yourself any ideas"

"I have no idea" Connie surrenders. "Other clue, as in how many words?"

"It doesn't even have any words" you laugh. "You give up? It's 1922. Was an extra as well. Made me think Netflix had my name highlighted in the extra call sheet, because I did so many minor and background roles during that year. Grateful, though, because now I get to be Rome's empress and not fortune teller or highschool #6"

The interview ends, and the camera may or may have not captured the last seconds, Pedro's gaze fixated with you the entire time.

elysyannemimi: we all saw that right? GET PEDRO AND Y/N IN A ROMCOM ❗THEIR CHEMISTRY IS INSANE❗ at0michips: love paul and y/n so much 😭😭 gimme enemies to lovers RN ㅤㅤbobgirllll: at0michips wait what if paul and y/n are secretly dating 😳 ㅤㅤann-gell: bobgirllll quick question are u dumb unhing3dprincess: i bet my grandma they're married. it has to be. trust me ㅤㅤstarlightt180: unhing3dprincess BESTIE U ARE BACK

You arrived in London today. The premiere will be in a few days, and things have been, well, hectic.

Lux couldn't stop talking all the plane ride, but your mind kept going back at the email your manager had sent you before you had boarded the plane.

It's catching upon you, read the haunting message. Attached below, a TMZ article that claimed a regular church attendee had seen you both getting married. It also used a lot of the noise fans had been making on social media, connecting dots or just hyping up the undeniable chemistry. It ended with a little paragraph saying it was obvios, and they're just hoping you'd confirmed it.

You came to realize you didn't care about it anymore. Sure, the pushing around annoyed you, but the thought of still keeping your marriage under wraps feels pointless now. Why wouldn't you shout to the world how in love with your husband you are?

Yet, when you arrive at the hotel, you keep the same protocol of arriving after Pedro, who has already checked in with two keys, claiming its for him and his sister, while you ask for the key to Lux's actual room. After you swipe cards with her, you head over the room you'd be sharing with your husband.

His face appears in your frame, everything happening quickly.

"Get inside. Now"

Your body is dragged inside the hotel room, not even giving you time to swipe the key for yourself.

"Pedro!" you exclaim, between surprised and confused. "What the hell is your problem?"

"Did you read it?"

"What? The article?" your tone is filled with annoyance. "Yes, I did. Why?"

"What do you mean why?" he snaps, voice raising higher. "Don't play dumb with me. You know fans have fuelled the rumors, and tabloids have started digging every corner in fucking California"

"So, what? You're acting as if people finding out is the worst thing in the world" you roll your eyes.

"It is, yes!" Pedro bursts out, caving in to the stress.

It feels like you've been hit across your face.

"Excuse me?" you seethe, hurt etched all across your features. "Would it be the worst thing in the world to admit you're married to the person you supposedly love the most?"

"I love you, y/n. It's just-"

His voice softens, trying to reach for you, yet you pull back, his hand falling to his side in an akward manner. He sighs in frustration, running a hand through his hair as he sits on the edge of the bed.

"I love you" he repeats, sounding much more sure this time.

Your frame seems smaller as your voice comes out hoarse, filled with emotion, appearing to be in the brink of tears:

"Then why do you act like you're embarrassed of me?"

He hates himself for making you feel this way, making you think things that aren't true.

"I don't. Never" he emphasizes. Then, tries to reach once again when you move a little bit closer to him, recognizing that's your way of letting him know you're ready. "You're the most precious thing in the world to me, don't ever think the opposite" then he sighs, heavy. "I'm just scared"

You silently ask him to explain, rubbing his thumb soothingly across his tattoo.

"You're so young, and I'm, well- I know we're aware of it, but people are cruel and the press is ruthless. I don't want to see your name dragged across the mud because you decided to marry me. Your career is starting, and I'd never forgive myself is something happened to you because of me. Not trying to make this about me, yeah? But this industry is fucked up. You've work hard to get to where you are, and it'll be unfair if you'd loose it. I'm scared because us..." he wavers, words trailing off. "I want us to be. I wouldn't want to live in a world without you, i-it would kill me not to have you be my wife"

You desperately want to kiss off the worry on his face, but let him finish.

"N-not saying our love is weak, or anything! That a couple of opinions or tabloids will- you know? Just, I-I don't want them to break us apart. Mi vida, you're the light of my life. Please, forgive me, I-"

He feels his throat closing up, words failing to come out. You sense the grip on your hand to be stronger, immediately letting loose of it.

"Hey. C'mere" your voice is tender, allowing him to bury his face in your stomach as you comb his messy curls with your fingers. "It's okay, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere"

He lets himself melt under your touch, his mind loosing itself in the soft of your digits and your perfume up his nostrils. He's again breathing normaly, hands now hugging your waist.

"There you go. Better?" Pedro nods, still not being able to talk. "That's okay, take all the time you need. We have all day"

"Do we?" he raises his view, his eyes soft yet there is something else to the brown shade.

You hum as to nod. "We agreed to join Lux for dinner. It's barely 1pm"

"Tell me you're thinking it too" his voice cuts throughout the air, boucing off the tapestry on the walls.

You laugh, nervously. "I don't think I do"

"Hmmh, I see" he stands up, towering over you. "You sure you don't?"

"You sure you want this?"

Before you know it, his lips capture yours in a passionate kiss, cutting off all words to be said. What a waste of air, anyway. You are quick to reciprocate, whimpering against his lips.

Pedro picks you up like you're as light as a feather, his arms flexing as he carries you and places you on the bed, frame hovering over yours. He breaks the kiss to breath, but you're pulling him back in, his hold on your hips tighter and the wet spot in your panties wetter.

"Look at you, pretty baby. So needy" he whispers against your face, hot breath lingering above your lips. "And mine. Mía. Only mine"

"I am, yes. Yours only. Need you so bad right now, papi" you answer in a rush. "Now shut up and fuck me"

"Con gusto" he chuckles darkly, "gotta keep the wife happy"

"Happy wife, happy life" you recite, stripping him off of his plain shirt, revealing his toned torso, bulging biceps defined by the movements. You gulp. "Fuck, papi. Gotta thank Marvel for this. I love all of your versions, but I can work with this too" you dreamily stare at him, your hands cupping his face.

He strips the rest of his clothing, but a cute blush adorns his cheeks.

"Yeah, well, it's Scott's fault too"

Your impatient fingers reach the middle of your panties to rub your clothed pussy, letting out a sound that darkens his hazel orbs.

"Fuck that guy" you mutter. Pedro laughs.

"Thought you said you loved the guy"

"Until I learned what he said about your body" you groan, still rubbing. "Connie told me"

His hands now travel to remove your clothes, almost ripping them off.

"Who cares? I just want to fuck you now" he breathes out, practically drooling at the sight of your damp panties. "Lemme take this off too"

He unhooks your bra, seeing the hard nipples. The urge to lick them is so bad, but his desire to fill you silly to the brim is stronger.

You see his hesitation, which is why you grab him by the neck to pull him in for a kiss. He kisses back fiercely, labored breaths as he struggles to focus on your lips, his wet mouth darting to your jaw, neck and collarbones. His hands roam all over your body, needy.

"Gotta be inside of you, mami. Can't wait any longer"

"Then stop waiting" you plead, tugging at his boxers with urgency.

Seeing you so cockhungry, lips parted and pupils blown wide makes his hard dick twitch with anticipation.

He mutters a labored fuck, aligning himself to enter your sticky folds. Pedro enters your tight pussy with a low groan, burying himself deep inside of you, used to his length by now. You're basically begging for it, nails digging and eyes supplicating.

He can't deny you anything, can he?

A messy whine leaves your widened mouth as you adjust, pleasure mixed with pain.

"Mhmm" you moan.

"Mhmm what?" he mocks. "You asked for it. Now take it, cariño"

He thrusts deeper into you, watching in awe how his dick enters your pussy; it was always perfectly, your pussy made for him.

"You're drippin' baby" his rough voice caresses your cheek. He kisses the are, giving a lick to the sweat starting to form. "S'fucking tight too"

You move your hips towards him, trying to augment the friction. The overstimulation starts to cloud your sense, reducing you to a whiny mess as you grip his steady arms.

"I can't think of anything but you, baby" he confesses between grunts, "filling up your pussy to the brim, you dripping with my seed for days"

You moan at the filthy words.

"Love how you take my dick, amor" stretching you as Pedro moves in and out. "S'made for me"

"Yes" you moan, skin slapping sounds bouncing off the walls. "Fuck, I love your dick..."

His pace picks up, and it comes to a point where he's just fucking you silly, his grip on your hips surely to leave a bruise as you keep spilling obscene sounds of pleasure from your lips.

"Your pussy's mine, yeah? No one else gets to have you like this"

"N-no, just you, Pedro. My h-husband" you manage to squeeze, more moans vocalizing the pleasure you felt with each thrust, his big dick inside of you moving in a a steady rhythm, making your eyes roll back further and orgasm closer.

Your breasts bounce with each thrust, and he finds impossible to resist the urge anymore, licking the sensible skin and hard nipples, your hands moving to his back, scratching him harshly, both chasing your release.

"Please!" you whine out loud, not caring how desperate you sound.

Harder. Faster. Rougher.

But your husband knows you, so he indeed starts to fuck you harder, heavy breaths and slippy kiss noises hanging in the spaces between each thrusts. He pants with every motion of his dick, a knot forming on his belly.

"Shit, baby. I think I'm gonna cum. Gonna come so hard"

"Do it. I'm on birth control, remember?" you groan, feeling your high approach as well. "Fill me up, please. Give me all your cum"

Your bodies move as one, precise thrusts hitting exactly that sweet spot of yours repeatedly, chasing your orgasm. For a brief moment, your eyes lock with his and then he's saying:

"I love you, y/n. So much"

Your heart skips a bit, his dick twitching inside as his gaze glimmers with adoration and possesiveness, teeth grazing your skin with marks for him to call you his.

"I love you too, Pedro. More than you know"

A final thrust is delivered. Fuck, feels so good you think you hear him say. Just like promised, he fills you with his release, shots of his thick, warm cum inside your sticky walls. You follow soon, back arching, toes curling, and both head and eyes rolling back. Pedro falls on top of you, his broad body collapsing over yours, as you both pant hard, trying to steady your pulse and breath. He then removes himself and positions you to be the one on top now, lazily throwing the covers over your bare bodies. We need to shower, you said, but he argued you'd do it later before going out.

"I needed that" and you happily hum in agreement at your husband's dragged out words.

Your head falls and rises, with the movement of his chest, silence settling on the previously filled with sex noises room. That until he speaks up:

"One day, I'm gonna fill you up so good until you have my babies, mami" he murmurs, just then realizing what he said. But you snuggle closer, hand and legs drapped over his bare body. You look at him closely, seeing nothing but certainty on his eyes.

I choose you. I'll always choose you.

"Whatever it is with you" your nose brushes his, a small sweet kiss on his lips, "I want"

His eyes shine, probably with tears or the glow of affection.

"Let's do it"

"What?" you look into his eyes for any sign of doubt, bull all you see is love. "Pedro, are you serious?"

He nods. "Wouldn't you want that?"

You feel the corner of your lips pull up.

"Never have I wanted anything more"

poppysplayground: Y/N AND PEDRO RED CARPET DEBUT AT THE LONDON PREMIER OF GLADIATOR II WTF I JUST WOKE UP ptwt is in SHAMBLES mostannoyingbillioner: UM HELLO pedro showing up with two hot women on his arms LUX GIMME A CHANCE pompeiianbollockr: WAIT WDYM THEY ARE MARRIED?!??! ALL THIS TIME?@?#? HOW???! NEED BIGGER CAPS TO SCREAM I'M GOING INSANE at0michips: that article better come out now or i'll burn the TMZ building ann-gell: not me thirsting for a married man 😭😭😭 how they kept this a secret for so long?? we should've noticed ㅤㅤunhing3dprincess: ann-gell i did. knew betting my grandma was the way all along ㅤㅤpyramiidsf: i'm gonna start betting my grandma too

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @trashcora

[inkskinned]

i don't wanna be on my phone but i need my phone to figure out where i'm going on a walk and i need my phone to get to my audiobook and i need my phone to call my brother and i need my phone to get in touch with my friends which is fine but i don't want to be on my phone.

so i walk and that's fine and i'm using the phone in an okay-way in that moment. but sometimes i am using the phone like it is a weapon and that's stupid because no it's not. ive seen a weapon those are different this is a phone. but it's also in my hands until 2 AM and i haven't slept. at 4AM. i don't even mean to do it half the time i'm opening the phone to check the weather or to check my email which are things-that-are-okay but then i am in my phone for hours somehow, and i missed the dawn while i was on instagram. i don't even like instagram.

i don't want to be on my phone im not good at it so i try to put distance there but then i'm distancing myself from my friends. we meet up in person but my pictures are on my phone and the menu is on the phone (mon dieu) and so is venmo. so i need the phone to be with my friends and that's fine because it can record concerts and fun activities and i can take pictures of them smiling with pumpkins.

but i don't want to be on the phone because i go to look at the pictures of the pumpkins and i hate how i look in it but it's fine. and somewhere between the pumpkins and 3AM i have lost so much time. i don't even know what i'm doing on it only that i don't enjoy it any longer. it is this long blank void. forever and ever. restless like how mushrooms feel restless beside a dead body.

i don't want to be on my phone so i pick up the phone and i type into google things to do in my area and i save them to my phone and i'll need my phone to get to the tickets and i'll need my phone to book the appointment and i'll need it, i'll need it

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

2025 book bingo time 📚

want a completely arbitrary set of reading goals for 2025? want to try something new in your literary diet but don't know where to start? just like a challenge for the sake of a challenge? just love a good game of bingo?

boy do I have something for you!

for anyone planning to participate, please know that I LOVE attention and talking about books, so I would be STOKED to be tagged on any and all updates about what you're reading or planning to read. I'm so, so excited to see all the different ways these prompts get filled, especially if and when they bring people away from the kinds of things they normally read. not to mention snag some new reading recs myself, hopefully!

and of course, I want to know whenever somebody gets a bingo - and ESPECIALLY if somebody fills the whole board! I don't have any prizes for you, but I can offer a sense of accomplishment :)

note that this is designed to be played as 1 book = 1 space, so even if you read, say, a fantasy graphic novel published in 1923 from an indie publisher that has a bat on the cover, you'd only cross off one space. I'm not a cop and I'm not in charge of what you read, so if it sparks more joy to check off multiple spaces per book then go nuts, but I am throwing that disclaimer out there.

EDIT: the 2025 book bingo challenge is now also on storygraph, thanks to @obi-wann-cannoli!

DOUBLE EDIT: there is also now a discord server for the book bingo, thanks to @drivingmebonkas! you can join it here!

wondering what some of these spaces mean? seeking a couple recommendations to get you started? no idea what a zine even is, let alone how to make one? worry not! I have a guide to all 25 prompts, including recommendations + an example of what I'll be reading throughout the year to fulfill each space. read on beneath the cut!

Literary Fiction: I find that a lot of people are reluctant to check out literary fiction, as it’s often written off as not being about anything but adultery and divorce. If this is you, I implore you to take a chance, acknowledge that adultery and divorce are compelling sometimes, and also remember that lit fic has a lot more to offer than that. At Writer’s Digest, Michael Woodson describes literary fiction as “less of a genre than a category,” which “focuses on style, character, and theme over plot.” My recommendations include Raven Leilani’s Luster, Ocean Vuong’s On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, and Melissa Broder’s Milk Fed. 

I’ll be reading: Martyr! by Kaveh Akbar

2. Short Story Collection: You know, a bunch of short stories together in one book? It doesn’t get much more self-explanatory than that. Could be a collection of stories by a single author or an anthology—it’s up to you! I recommend checking out Mariana Enríquez’s The Dangers of Smoking in Bed (translated by Megan McDowell), Nalo Hopkinson’s Falling in Love With Hominids, and Kim Fu’s Lesser Known Monsters of the 21st Century. 

I’ll be reading: Your Utopia by Bora Chung and translated by Anton Hur 

3. A Sequel: It could be one that you’ve been meaning to get around to, one that’s not releasing until 2025, or the sequel to something you read to cross off another space on this very bingo sheet!

I’ll be reading: Heavenly Tyrant by Xiran Jay Zhao, sequel to 2021’s Iron Widow 

4. Childhood Favorite: Go back and read a book you loved as a child, tween, or teen! There’s no wrong answer here; anything from a YA novel to a picture book would be just lovely, and I can’t wait to see what people pick for this option! I’m not sure which of my old favorites I’ll be revisiting yet—should I go for the warm and fuzzy Casson Family series, or straight towards the mindfucky sci-fi of Interstellar Piggy? Or maybe I’ll go see how Artemis Fowl holds up...

5. 20th Century Speculative Fiction: For those not familiar with the term, speculative fiction can encapsulate science fiction, fantasy, and anything else that falls into the unreal. You’re spoiled for iconic choices here: the 20th century gave us Le Guin’s Left Hand of Darkness, Atwood’s Handmaid’s Tale, Butler’s Parable of the Sower and Kindred, L’Engle’s A Wrinkle in Time, the beginning of Pratchett’s Discworld series, Diana Wynne Jones’ Howls’ Moving Castle, and countless others.

I’ll be reading: Dawn by Octavia E. Butler, love of my literary life 💜

6. Fantasy: Fantasy comes in a thousand different shades, from contemporary urban wizards with day jobs at the office to high fantasy spellslingers chasing dragons away from castles. Some examples I’ve adored are N.K. Jemisin’s The Killing Moon, C.L. Polk’s Witchmark, Fonda Lee’s Jade City, and Nghi Vo’s Empress of Salt and Fortune.

I’ll be reading: The Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi by Shannon Chakraborty  

7. Published Before 1950: This one could not be more straightforward if I tried. You have all of human history (or at least, all the parts that have surviving literature), just not the last 75 years. Dig deep! 

I’ll be reading: Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier, published in 1938 

8. Independent Publisher: Did you guys know that just five publishing companies (Penguin Random House, HarperCollins Publishers, Macmillan Publishers, Simon & Schuster, and Hachette Book Group) are responsible for 80% of books published in the US each year, and 25% of books globally? Break away from the big five and see what some small presses are putting out! If you need some ideas about where to start, check out this list of nearly 300 independent publishers with notes on what kind of books they put out!

I’ll be reading: Taiwan Travelogue by Yáng Shuāng-zǐ and translated by Lin King, from Graywolf Press

9. Graphic Novel/Comic Book/Manga: Despite my personal obsession with Batman, the world of comic books is sooo much wider than Gotham City—or anything else that DC and Marvel have to offer. If superheroes aren’t your speed, check out the Southern gothic of Carmen Maria Machado and Dani Strips’ comic The Low, Low Woods, splash around in Kat Leyh’s graphic novel Thirsty Mermaids, or stop waiting for a new season of Dungeon Meshi and go read Ryoko Kui’s manga, translated to English by Taylor Engel. 

I’ll be reading: The Fade, by Aabria Iyengar and Mari Costa

10. Animal on the Cover: Yes, yes, don’t judge a book by its cover—but do go find one with a critter on the cover and give it a read! Absolutely no other requirements here, get silly with it.

I’ll be reading: Shark Heart by Emily Habeck

11. Set in a Country You Have Never Visited: Fiction or nonfiction, doesn’t matter so long as it gives you a little glimpse of a country you’ve never visited in real life. If you’ve somehow visited every country currently recognized in the world, then I guess you get to go read something set in space.

I’ll be reading: A Magical Girl Retires by Park Seolyeon and Kim Sanho, translated by Anton Hur 

12. Science Fiction: A genre just as diverse as fantasy, with a little something for everybody! I recommend Becky Chambers’ Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet for those who want to kiss an alien in the stars and Jessamine Chan’s The School for Good Mothers for those who want a surveillance state dystopia that hits much closer to home.  

I’ll be reading: Womb City by Tlotlo Tsamaase

13. 2025 Debut Author: Read a book by someone who’s releasing their first book in 2025. Fic or nonfic, any genre, no further requirements. Not quite a free space, but pretty close!

I’ll be reading: Liquid: A Love Story by Mariam Rahmani, coming out March 11

14. Memoir: Per Wikipedia, a memoir is “any nonfiction narrative writing based on the author’s personal memories.” Some are funny, some are heartbreaking, some are both! I recommend Carman Maria Machado’s In the Dream House and Roxane Gay’s Hunger, because I tend to lean heartbreaking! 

I’ll be reading: Crying in H Mart by Michelle Zauner. Again, I like heartbreaking!

15. Read a Zine, Make a Zine: Not familiar with zines? No problem! Check out some of these digital archives for inspiration, and then craft your own zine with this simple guide (or do it your own way, I’m not in charge of you). 

Internet Archives: https://archive.org/details/zines

Gay Zine Archive Project: https://gittings.qzap.org/ 

POC Zine Project: https://poczineproject.tumblr.com/ 

Library of Congress: https://www.loc.gov/collections/zine-web-archive/ 

16. Essay Collection: Like a short story collection, but it’s nonfiction now. Some of my favorites include Samantha Irby’s We Are Never Meeting in Real Life, Elaine Castillo’s How to Read Now, Aimee Nezhukhumatathil’s World of Wonders, and Cathy Park Hong’s Minor Feelings.

I’ll be reading: A Little Devil in America: In Praise of Black Performance by Hanif Abdurraqib 

17. 2024 Award Winner: What award? Any award you like! And boy, there are tons to pick from. Any book that won any award in the year 2024 is free game. If you need some places to start looking, check out some of these:

Lambda Literary Awards, for excellence in LGBT literature: https://lambdaliterary.org/awards__trashed/2024-winners/ 

The Alex Awards, for adult books with crossover appeal for teen readers: https://www.ala.org/yalsa/alex-awards 

Ignyte Awards, celebrating diversity in speculative fiction: https://ignyteawards.fiyahlitmag.com/2024-results/  

Women's Prize for Fiction (self explanatory) https://womensprize.com/prizes/womens-prize-for-fiction/

Others: https://www.bookbrowse.com/awards/ 

I’ll be reading: Biography of X by Catherine Lacey, winner of the 2024 Lambda Literary Award for Lesbian Fiction

18. Nonfiction: Learn Something New: I know very little about archaeology, anthropology, or any other fields that involve studying ancient cities, but Annalee Newitz’s Four Lost Cities: A Secret History of the Urban Age was some of the most fun I had with nonfiction in 2024, because every page brought a brand new discovery. For 2025, find a nonfiction book about a topic you don’t know ANYTHING about, and learn something new!

I’ll be reading: Cooling the Tropics: Ice, Indigeneity, and Hawaiian Refreshment by Hi’ilei Julia Kawehipuaakahaopulani Hobart

19. Social Justice & Activism: Read a book about a social issue, the history of an activist movement, or brush up on a guiding philosophy or ideology. Arm yourself with knowledge, besties, because I have a feeling we’re going to need it! if you need a good place to start, why not try Angela Davis' Race, Women & Class, Mariame Kaba's We Do This 'Til We Free Us, or Molly Smith and Juno Mac's Revolting Prostitutes?

I’ll be reading: White Feminism: From Suffragettes to Influencers and Who They Leave Behind by Koa Beck

20. Romance Novel: Listen to me. Fucking listen to me. I mean a ROMANCE. NOVEL. Not a novel that incidentally has a romance in it. Romance novel, motherfucker. Go check out the romance section and have some whimsy as two people fall in love through the most contrived series of events ever conceived. If you really need a romance that makes you feel smart (that’s still sexy and messy as hell), try Akwaeke Emezi’s You Made a Fool of Death with Your Beauty.

I’ll be reading: Go Luck Yourself by Sara Raasche  

21. Read and Make a Recipe: Could be a cookbook, could be a recipe you yoinked from the New York Times, could be something your grandparents lovingly wrote down by hand. Could be as complex or as simple as you like, just make something tasty! Some cookbooks I’ve enjoyed are Sohla El-Waylly’s Start Here, Dan Pashman’s Mission Impastable, and John Wang and Storm Garner’s The World Eats Here.

22. Horror: Slashers, zombies, haunted houses, creeping paranoia, you name it! It’s time to get spooky and scary with all kinds of things going bump in the night. Maybe this is the year to finally keep up with Dracula Daily? Not for me, I'm not doing that, but you could!

I’ll be reading: I Was A Teenage Slasher by Stephen Graham Jones

23. Published in the Aughts: A throwback, but not too far back. Read something published between 2000 and 2009. Maybe it’s time to finally get into Twilight? (For legal reasons, that’s a joke.)

I’ll be reading: The Sluts by Dennis Cooper, published in 2004

24. Historical Fiction: You know, fiction that takes place in a bygone era! Please remember, this isn’t just about reading a book that’s old; we have a separate prompt for that! This is about reading something that takes place in the past relative to the time it was written. Pride and Prejudice is historical to us, but was contemporary when Austen wrote it. Think of Brit Bennett's The Vanishing Half, Markus Zusak's The Book Thief, or history + a bit of fantasy in book's like R.F. Kuang's Babel.

I’ll be reading: The Yiddish Policemen's Union by Michael Chabon

Bookseller or Librarian Recommendation: This one is fun, and something I always like to do when I’m travelling and visiting a new bookstore. Ask a bookseller or librarian to recommend something they’ve liked, and check it out! If going in person isn’t feasible, many bookstores and libraries have staff picks on their websites, and the Indie Next List is a monthly list of independent booksellers’ favorite new releases. 

I’ll be reading: The Last Report on the Miracles at Little No Horse by Louise Erdrich, which I bought at Erdrich’s bookstore, Birchbark Books, this summer :)

lastly: tagging people who asked to be tagged to make sure they didn't miss this! @thebisexualwreckoning @perfunctoryperfusions @reallyinkyhands come get your bingo sheet!

[cheralith]

characters ; michael kaiser cw ; fem!reader, she/her pronouns, childhood best friends, implied fwb, fluff-ish?, some smut so explicit content/smut (18+ only, mdni) a/n ; sorryyy last blurb for the day and then ill head to bed, i couldn't help myself

kaiser only has only had sex with two people in his life. you, his long-term friend from childhood and some other girl he doesn't remember the name of.

you gave each other your virginities in your blooming adult years, given that you were the only person that kaiser entrusted with such a vulnerable moment of himself. it was heaven on earth when he reached his first orgasm from you that wasn't by his own means, and he ended up chasing that high over and over again with you, always ending up in bed together whenever you stayed at his apartment. something about you feels safe, feels fitting, as if you were made for solely him.

the only other time he's had sex with another person was during a post-game party where a bunch of models were invited over to the clubhouse to celebrate. you're not technically in a relationship with him (disregard the fact that he took you out on what would be interpreted to literally everybody as dates, gifted you expensive things, would kiss you in unexpected moments merely because he felt like it, and has a picture of you in his wallet to help calm him down in frustrating moments. that doesn't mean anything. you’re just best friends.) and kaiser thinks that he should at least try to venture out with other people while he was still able to. you were abroad overseas during the time, so kaiser, who usually stalked off and did his own thing with you in his apartment after games like these, chose to stay behind for once to see what the hubbub was about.

he has his eyes set on a rather attractive woman and they end up in a hotel together, with her kissing his neck in an attempt to wind him up. he has his hands on her waist, but something about this feels... off. sure, he's hard, but when he juts himself into her, it doesn't feel right. it doesn't feel good on his end. he pulls moan after moan from her, but the pleasure for him has yet to appear, just barely feathering his nerves but not enough to truly drive him up the wall in the way he's familiar with. this seems more like a chore to him.

he feels it sometimes, and he tries to take advantage of it whenever it came by, but when he attempts to do so in one particular moment where she's riding him, she suddenly gets off and throws a glare his way.

kaiser sits up, clearly irritated at the fact she just short-circuited his orgasm. "what the hell? why'd you stop?"

she gathers her things and shuffles herself back into her outfit, huffing. "moaning out another girl's name? god, you're a dick."

"what the fuck are you talking about?" he spats.

"i don't know who (y/n) is—" she says with an edge to her tone, the sound of your name making his dick twitch. "but if she's some sort of ex you have, i feel sorry for her. sort it out, but don't drag me into it."

kaiser's eye twitches at the mention of her smothering your name in regards to him. he didn’t even notice the fact that he was even making any sound, let alone grunting out your name when you weren’t the one he was with.

he grits his teeth. "shut the hell up and get out."

"i was already planning to," she spits and escorts herself out the room, leaving kaiser half blue-balled to his disdain.

he groans, feeling his hard-on still rigid underneath the sheets. he pulls out his phone and opens your contact, where your flight details that you sent over to him lay out on the screen. you’ll be back tomorrow morning, thank god, but kaiser isn’t sure if he can wait that long. agitated, he presses the call button.

you pick up a moment later to his relief.

“hi there,” you murmur softly from your end.

kaiser feels another twitch, your sweet voice echoing in his mind. “hey.”

“you’re calling rather late,” you say, a concern evident in your voice. “everything okay?”

he goes silent for a minute, trying to think of what to say.

“… yes.”

you hum lowly on the other end, clearly unconvinced. “don’t lie to me, micha,” you warn.

“i’m not,” he groans as he rubs his forehead, attempting to filter out his frustration. “i just… i don’t know. i just miss you, that’s all.”

you give a soft, sweet laugh, a melody kaiser finds himself enjoying over and over again. “the great michael kaiser… missing somebody? what a feat.”

“don’t test me, you dumb girl,” he hisses, thumb hovering over the red button, though it’s clear he doesn’t want to press it or go near it at all. “i’ll end this call right now.”

“i’m kidding, you idiot,” you singsong playfully. “but… i miss you too, micha. a lot, actually.”

it’s been nearly a week since you’ve gone abroad for the business trip. seven days too long without you. he wants you back here with him in germany, in his arms where only you belong.

“when you come back tomorrow,” kaiser begins lowly, “d’you wanna hang out at my place?”

he can sense your smile through the phone. “i’d like that.”

he sighs contently. he figures that there’s no one else in the world he can picture himself with as relief settles into his chest, the thought of you underneath him with a lustful haze on your face staining his mind and bringing ease back into his body.

[natashashill]

mama’s girl

pairing: perv neighbor!agatha x reader

word count: 4.5k

warnings: 18+ kinda dun-con, manipulation, pervy acts: stealing underwear and hidden camera, guided masturbation, guided a lot of things actually, lots of titty sucking (& play), pussy eating & fingering, orgasm control, bondage, marking, possessive agatha, edging, age gap, & stalking lmk if i missed anything

a/n: this is definitely a dark fic so read at your own risk! also just a reminder that my page is not for minors <3

summary: you introduced yourself to your new neighbor and she takes a liking to you

You had moved into a new apartment after graduating college, and decided to introduce yourself to people living across the hall. You were absolutely thrilled when the door opened, and an older brunette woman opened the door. All thoughts of yours went out the window as she greeted you hello.

“Hi- Hi! I’m Y/N, I just moved in across the hall and I just wanted to introduce myself. I- uh made you some cookies as a sign of good faith. I’m trying to make some friends or uh at least friendly faces. Umm yeah so if you ever need anything I’ll be across the hall.”

“Thank you very much sweetheart. That’s quite a sweet gesture hun. Why don’t I tell you what, why don’t we do dinner sometime together? Would that be okay with you sweetness?”

“Yes! We can do dinner at mine this Friday at 7 if that works, I’ve been meaning to try out a few recipes if that’s okay with you.”

“Perfectly fine, I’ll see you on Friday honey.”

You giddly skipped back to your room, unaware of the thoughts swirling in Agatha’s head. You had made quite the impression on her. After you left, Agatha had to take quite a few breaths after seeing you. You were such a sweet and innocent sight, and she just had to have you for herself. She couldn’t wait for Friday, she had the perfect opportunity to start leaving her claim on you. She took a bite out of your cookie, and fuck, she couldn’t wait for Friday. 

The rest of the week dragged around slowly for both of you. You couldn’t shake your hot neighbor out of your head, although you felt guilty for crushing on her. Opposingly, Agatha has been keeping tabs on you, she’s found where you work and found your socials online. She spent a significantly long time through your Instagram, enjoying herself while discovering the bikini pics you’ve posted from your last vacation.

When it’s time to head over on Friday, she carries a larger than necessary bag. You let her inside, your stomach swirling at the sight of her dressed up. She greets you with a hug and a kiss on each cheek, and your breath catches in your throat. She hands you a bottle of wine she brought over, and you hurriedly rush into the kitchen to break it open. She uses this opportunity to take a look around your house, finding her way into the bedroom. She immediately starts on pulling out the secret camera she brought, placing it onto one of your picture frames facing your bed. Making sure you didn’t come back, she starts going through your drawers until she finds your underwear drawer, digging through and grabbing a few to take home. She stuffs them into her purse and starts to take a look around your room, observing all the decorations you have up. 

You walk into your room and see her observing a picture of yours.

“Agatha? What are you doing in here?”

“Oh sweetheart, forgive me. I was trying to find your bathroom to freshen up and came in here instead. I saw these adorable pictures and got distracted.”

A small blush forms at your cheeks at her comments and you guide her back towards your living room. She flashes you a grateful smile at the glass of wine and you can feel yourself falling for her with every passing moment. Dinner went smoothly, and you sighed in relief when Agatha showed signs that she enjoyed your food. She moaned out in delight at your cooking, and your cheeks flushed even further when your mind thought of where else she would make those noises. Dessert continued to be a success and she thanked you for the beautiful meal. 

You both talk for quite a bit that night, Agatha trying to find out anything she could about you. You found it sweet how Agatha took so much interest in you, asking you many questions about your life. You answered her questions honestly and started rambling about your life to her. Agatha looked at you so sweetly but there was something in her eyes that you couldn’t place. You brushed it off, blaming it on the wine. Agatha’s delighted at all the information you gave for her including that you’re single, you started a new job as a receptionist, and you’ve just moved here away from most of your friends and family. The night goes swimmingly with both of you laughing and chatting about work and it’s past midnight when Agatha leaves your apartment. She heads straight to the bedroom, not bothering to take off her shoes before unzipping her dress and taking one of your panties out of her bag. 

She starts to grind against your panties, the lace feeling heavenly against her clit as she moans out your name. The thoughts of you tonight flashing your precious eyes at her takes her over the edge, and she collapses against her bed, she decides she’ll clean up tomorrow.

She runs into you tomorrow while you’re about to leave your apartment, finding you dressed up in a tight dress and some heels.

“Oh, hi Agatha. I’m headed out for a date right now. This girl asked me out today while I was getting my coffee. I have to go now but I’ll see you around. We should grab dinner sometime, I’ll text you!”

Agatha bids you goodbye, wishing you good luck before entering her place and heading straight to the bedroom. She fishes out another pair of panties of yours and puts it on while grabbing a vibrator and placing over her clothed clit, grinding and bucking as her juices leaked out and into your panties. She pulls out her phone and opens the app connected to the camera in your room. She scrolls back to the footage from earlier today, watching you get ready. She nearly came as soon as she saw you, but took her time as she watched you get ready, enjoying the way your precious body looked. Her orgasm fell over her in waves, desperation rolled over her as she had to have you. 

The next time you both get together, Agatha makes sure to dress to get your attention. She knows that you have a small crush on her, but she needs you desperate for her. It seemed to have worked, as Agatha noticed your eyes on her the entire night, even stuttering over your words a little when she decided to hold eye contact with you. Your heart nearly stopped when she went to wipe a food stain near your lips, licking her finger before gently wiping it off. She pats your cheek before she heads back to your seat, and she knows she has you hooked. 

“So honey, how’s everything going with you? Anyone you’ve been intimate with recently? You’ve been going on quite a few dates.”

Your face heats up at her question and you just duck your head out of embarrassment. You’ve never actually had sex with someone before and you were sure Agatha would laugh at you, obviously she was expecting to share and reflect on details of both of your sex lives. You look up at her sheepishly and she tilts her head curiously.

“I- uh well, I’ve never actually had sex with someone. It sounds stupid but I’ve never found someone to do it with and I’m too scared I’ll be bad at it now.”

“Oh sweetheart, you poor thing. Let me help you sweetheart. I’ll teach you all you need to know and show you exactly what it feels like.”

“You would do that for me? I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable, you’re probably not interested in a girl like me.”

“Nonsense sweetheart. I’ll help a sweet thing like you out. We can start off with weekly lessons and adjust as needed, we can do them on Fridays, right around this time. Here, why don’t we just get started right now. I want you to undress for me sweetheart while making eye contact, and take your time with it.”

You followed her directions exactly, locking eyes with her while slowly lifting your shirt up. At the pleased smile on her face, you shimmy out of your jeans, leaving you half-naked under her gaze. 

“Very good sweetheart, now why don’t you take off your bra for me. We’ll start easy for today, only playing with your boobs. A very important rule I have sweetheart, is that you will not touch yourself unless I give you permission, do you understand me? I don’t want you to explore by yourself sweetheart, you might hurt yourself.”

You nodded while undoing the clasp for the bra, letting your perky boobs show. 

“Very good darling, now I want you to hold them and move them around slowly, and see how it feels.”

“Feels good.”

“Oh and one more thing sweetheart, you’re going to start addressing me as mommy from now on, understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes mommy, I understand.”

“Good girl, go ahead and squeeze them for me. Take your time and squeeze.”

You were a bit confused and tried to squeeze them but it didn’t feel right. 

“Here honey, let me help you. Just hold your tits up for me sweetheart, I’ll show you how to pleasure yourself.”

You feel a certain wetness as she walks over to you and grabs both of your tits with your hands. You let her squeeze and grab and pull as she wanted, the pleasure clouding over your brain. 

“Now sweetheart, I’m going to lick your nipples okay? I promise you’re going to feel so good baby, let mommy show you.”

You nodded and she brings her mouth to your left tit, engulfing your perked up nipple. You let out a small moan when you feel her start to suck. You can feel her smirk and chuckle around your nipple and let out a small apology. 

“No need sweetheart. Moan as loud as you want for me baby, I wanna hear those pretty noises coming out of your mouth.”

With that she switches over to your right nipple, giving just as much attention as she gave your left. You let out breathy moans for her and she starts to suck even harder. She guides you to lay down on the sofa while worshipping your breasts, making sure you’d be thinking about her for the next week.

She pulls away from your tits, a trail of saliva connecting her mouth to you before she eagerly connects your lips. She moans into the kiss as she sucks at your bottom lip, and you open your mouth letting her inside. She completely dominates the kiss and it turns you fuzzy. You kiss back passionately, trying to please her the best you could. She doesn’t let you breathe, too focused on claiming your lips. She eventually pulls away, pupils dilated and breath heavy. 

“Baby, it’s your turn now. I want you to practice what you just learned, okay? Practice on mama sweetheart.”

Agatha pulls down her zipper and exposes her tits to you, she had omitted her bra for the night. She guided your head to one of her nipples, and you eagerly latched on. You loved this position, being so close to Agatha had your mind blanking. The only thing you could think about was staying close to Agatha, your hands roaming her tits, exploring and playing as you eagerly continued sucking on Agatha. You switched your mouth over to her other nipples and renewed sucking, moaning at the action. Agatha couldn’t believe her luck, how easily you fell into her, and how much you loved this. It would be so easy to just have you spread your legs apart and let Agatha finger you have you fall apart on her lap. The thought had her mind reeling and she realized it was time to cut it off for the night, before she couldn't control herself anymore. 

When she pulls you away, you look up at her pouting, eager to go back to what you were doing. Agatha tells you it’s enough for the first lesson, and we can carry on next week. She gently cups your cheek before kissing you goodbye. You stand up with her, putting on your bra before seeing her out the door. You give a small wave goodbye before heading into bed, your mind running blank at the events of the evening. The rest of the week went no better for you, you could barely focus on work, only thinking about the next time you would see Agatha. 

Agatha was seeming to handle the gap a lot better than you, using your lacy underwear and her toys to get herself while thinking of how easily you trusted her to touch you. She couldn’t wait for your lesson this week.

When Friday rolled around, you put on your prettiest set of lingerie, hoping it would impress Agatha. You were a skimpy dress, one that would be easier for Agatha. You had everything perfectly set up for when she arrived, and now you were just waiting for her to knock on your door. See Agatha wanted to fuck with you a bit, she knew that you’d be so eager and pliant for her, but she had to keep you just as desperate for her. She purposely arrived a few minutes late, knowing your brain would be just that much happier to see her. 

You welcomed her with a hug before moving back to the couch, waiting for her next move. You were surprised to see her sit so close to you, but you weren’t complaining when you saw the low cut top she was wearing again. 

“Now sweetheart, today’s lesson is going to be very up close and personal. I need you to trust mommy to show you what to do and let mommy make the best decisions for you, alright? As a reward, if you’re good for mama, I’ll let you play with mama’s nipples again. You be good for me and you can play again since you liked that so much.”

“Yes, mommy. I’ll be good for you.”

“That’s my girl, let’s get you out of this dress hm?” When Agatha saw what you wore underneath your dress, she was in disbelief. She couldn’t believe that you were trying to seduce her, “What’s this sweetheart? You were trying to get mommy all worked up hm? Did you think this would help you?”

“No- no mommy. I just wanted you to like me and I thought you would like it if I wore something pretty.”

Agatha smiled at you, of course you had just wanted to please her, you were her innocent girl after all.

“Alright sweetheart, I’m going to remove your panties now. I want you to keep your hands on the couch when I touch you.”

You placed your palms firmly on the couch, gripping tighter as Agatha got closer to your core. She used a finger to swirl and stroke around your entrance but she never entered. She played around like that for a few minutes, watching how wet you quickly became. She gently pushed a finger into you, delighted at the load gasp you let out. She placed a gentle kiss to your thigh before pushing her finger deeper and then pulling it back out. Agatha repeated the motion for a bit, letting you get used to the intrusion, before picking up the pace and watching the way your face contorted in pleasure. She continued the pace for a bit before slipping in another finger. 

You started to let out loud moans of her name, unable to control yourself with this new feeling inside of you. You couldn’t hold yourself back, and your moans continued to grow loader. Agatha watched how easily you took her fingers, throbbing and pulsing around them. She could tell you were getting closer to an orgasm and removed her fingers. She brought them up to her mouth to taste, and she couldn’t control her moan at how good you tasted. 

“You did so well for me baby. I’m going to show you something else babygirl and then I’ll let you have a turn with mommy okay? Stay good for me, you’re my perfect angel.”

At that, Agatha took her thumb to your clit, before pressing down. You let out a yelp at that, and she swirled her thumb around in apology. She kept playing around, enjoying how nicely you moaned for her, and how desperate your pussy was with the way it was clenching around nothing. She decided to taste you from the source, replacing her thumb with her tongue and swirling delicately around your sensitive nub. You moaned even louder at that and Agatha chuckled directly into you. She continued her teasing, bringing her tongue down your slit, licking a few stripes before teasing your entrance and then pulling away all together. 

Your mouth hung open trying to catch your breath when Agatha pulled away, and she knew she had you right where she wanted you. 

“Alright baby, you were so good for me. I’ll let you pick your reward honey. Do you wanna play with mama’s boobs or her pussy?”

“Umm, I don’t know mommy, what if I’m not good at playing with your pussy? I like playing with your boobs.”

“Oh sweetheart, how about you give it a chance alright? I’ll let you play extra with my boobs if it’ll make you feel better.”

You nod at her, and she leans back against the couch with her leg spread open. 

“Okay baby, why don’t you kneel in front of me. It’ll make things easier for you.”

Ever so obedient, you immediately kneel in front, and make your way to undo her skirt. Agatha helps you in ridding her skirt and underwear, before spreading her legs open for you, allowing you to see her glistening pussy.

“Now baby, I’ll give you a few minutes to let you play however you want, but when I tell you to, enter two of your fingers inside of me okay?”

You nod before letting your fingers roam through her slit, sliding through a few times before reaching her clit. When you peer up at Agatha, she’s breathing heavily so you assume you’re doing something right. You gently rub at her clit, smiling when she lets out a moan. Agatha snakes a hand into your hair, and you let that be your sign to continue. 

“Baby, I want you to go inside me now okay? Mommy wants to feel good.”

You slipped two fingers inside and started pumping them inside. The hand in your hair tightened and you continued your pace, spurred on by her moans. You continue to finger her but your mouth can’t resist the sight of clit. You take it into your mouth and Agatha nearly screams at the sensation.

“Oh, oh just like that angel. You’re making me feel so good sweetheart, I’m so close angel just keep going. So good for me honey.” 

You double your efforts, desperate to please her. In a couple more sucks, you feel a warm liquid gush out of Agatha and you eagerly lap it up, becoming addicted to the taste. She gently pulls you away from her core and into her lap. 

“Oh my darling, you were such a good girl for me baby. Do you want mommy’s boobs now? You can have anything you like doll.”

“I want your boobies mommy, but I have a question for you.”

“What is it baby?”

“What was the liquid at the end, I didn’t have that when you were playing with me mommy.”

“Oh honey. That's what happens with you have an orgasm. I haven’t given you one yet because I want you to be able to focus on properly learning sweetheart. I was going to introduce orgasms to you at our next lesson.”

You nodded at her before tugging at her top, begging to see her tits again. Agatha removes her top and bra for you, and you eagerly dive in. She lets you rest against her as you seek her out and she sighs in relief. Her plan was falling nicely into place and she couldn’t be happier. Before long, Agatha realized how late it was for you and decided to call it a night. She pressed a gentle kiss to you before leaving, promising how good the next lesson will be for you if you remembered her rules. You promised her before shutting the door behind her. 

You immediately headed into the shower to try and calm down. Everything about tonight made your head spin and you didn’t want to be apart from Agatha. You tucked yourself to bed and hoped that this week would fly by.

Unfortunately for you, you couldn’t escape the curiosity of an orgasm. You wanted to know what it felt like and you weren’t sure if you could wait all the way until Friday. You laid down in bed fully naked. You felt really awkward doing this, it didn’t feel anything remote to what you were doing with Agatha, that was what made you excited. 

Your finger approached your core and you weren’t even sure what to do first. You let yourself explore for a few minutes but it didn’t feel anything close to how Agatha had touched you. Rubbing your clit didn’t help much either, and you groaned out in frustration. All of a sudden you realized you had broken Agatha’s rules. Suddenly you shot out of bed and started panicking. What if she stopped seeing you after this because you became her bad girl? You burst out into tears and realized you needed to see her right now. Little did you know, Agatha watched the whole thing go down through her camera. She had been checking up on you to make sure you were obeying her, and she was thoroughly disappointed to see you breaking her rules. What she didn’t expect even more was you knocking at her door, half naked in tears. 

She ushered you inside and brought you in for a hug, trying to figure out what happened.

“Mommy, I’m so sorry. I- I’m so sorry mommy. I was a bad girl. I messed up. I’m so sorry you have to forgive me, I wasn’t thinking properly. I’ll never do anything like this again, please don’t hate me mama.”

Agatha took pity on you and decided to take it easy on you. “What do you mean baby? What happened sweetheart? I would never hate you.”

“I- I broke your rule,” you hiccuped between words, completely overwhelmed with your current situation. “I was curious about what you said about orgasming and I wanted to see what it was and practice on myself. I didn’t even get to touch myself very well because it didn’t feel like when you did it but I still broke your rule and I’m sorry.”

You were wailing at this point and Agatha felt sorry for you. Did she hate that you disobeyed her? Yes. However she was just going to edge you once before letting you orgasm.

“Oh my darling, you’re still my girl sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere. I’m disappointed in you but you’ll just take a punishment and if you behave through your punishment, I’ll show you an orgasm.”

You immediately agreed, desperate to get in her good graces. 

She laid you down over her couch while removing whatever clothing you had found to cover yourself. Her fingers immediately sunk into your pussy and set an unforgiving pace, you had moaned and wailed around her but you took it, allowing Agatha to use you as she pleased. She knew best after all. You felt a weird sensation in your lower belly and you tried to warn Agatha. She pulled out of you after that. You couldn’t hold back your whine and she stroked your hair.

“Tell me what you want baby.”

“I want you mommy. I want you to play with me all the time, I don’t want to wait until just Fridays anymore. I wanna be with you and sleep with you afterwards and go on dates with you.”

“Sounds an awful lot like you want to be my girl honey. Is that it? You want to be my girl, have mama take care of you? Well, I can’t say I’d be opposed to it. It would be nice to have my baby girl by my side all the time hm. l would like that angel.”

You beam at her and Agatha can’t resist kissing you deeply. Her tongue enters your mouth and immediately establishes dominance, sucking and swirling against yours. You’re breathless when she pulls away, and you immediately chase her lips. 

Agatha throws you over her shoulder and brings you into her bedroom, desperate to claim you as hers. She lays you down in the middle of the bed before shuffling through her drawer and pulling out some ribbon. She toes your hands to her bed posts and you peer up at her confused. You refuse to voice anything, not when you were so close to your reward. She starts trailing kisses down your body, taking her time to explore all of you. She leaves hickeys in her wake, and she knows you’ll be wearing her marks for the next few days. The thought fills her with need and she hurries her exploration, stopping right at your glistening pussy. 

Agatha dives right in, lapping at your wetness before focusing her attention on your clit. She sucks hard, enjoying the way she can feel you pulse. Your moans are music to her ears and she enters you again, fingering you hard and fast, building you back up to where you were before. She curls her fingers to hit your spongy spot and your mind goes blank. You moan loudly and completely go limp, letting Agatha use your pussy. You feel the same pressure in your tummy again.

“Mama, mama please I feel weird.”

“Oh honey, mama knows. Let go for mama, you’re doing so well for me precious.”

Her words spur you on and you’re falling apart against her fingers, moaning loudly and twitching as you ride out your orgasm. You lay there limply afterwards and Agatha immediately rushes to untie you.

 The moment she comes back near you, you cling to her, desperately latching on to her. She lays down comfortably next to you and you immediately bring your head to her chest, right next to her boob. Agatha has an inkling for what you want so she unties her robe, giving you full access to her. Your head piques up with interest and she guides you towards her nipple where you happily latch on. She lets you enjoy your suckling, stroking your head while quietly praising you.

You fall asleep with your mouth latched to her nipple and your other hand by her stomach. Agatha has never been happier, wearing a giddy smile as she starts to feel drowsy. She’ll take down her cameras soon, knowing that she’ll eventually have you living with her anyways. Pressing another kiss to your head, she lets sleep claim her knowing she has everything she wants.

notes: i feel like this is terrible so im very very sorry if it is 😔

tag list: @morbidlcve

[rivensisters]

in school the teacher tells me and some other boys to bring some heavy boxes into class, it's the third time she has asked if "us strong boys" could do it. it's always us weird, not-very-masculine boys that get picked for it. I refuse. I share a look with the other boys. they refuse too. the teacher gets mad, but she can't take the unspoken things said in the look away.

I'm on my way home. girls are yelling at me from across the street, asking strange questions, laughing. they think it's okay because they see a faggot. I feel unsafe and keep walking. they don't think of how unsafe they felt the times men have done this to them.

I'm at home. I don't know what a trans woman is, other than it's something they make fun of in the fun-for-the-whole-family movies. but I have found a shady website where they talk about something called a "trap". it's not something to laugh at, it's something desired. the way people there talk about them is uncomfortable sometimes, but I learn about other sites, other words. crossdressers, sissies, femboys, and so on. I cry myself to sleep wishing I could be a pretty feminine boy.

it's later in my life. I have several girlfriends over the years who all tell me every time I do something a man shouldn't do, for example saying no to sex. I think they know I don't want to be a man deep down. one has a breakdown when she discovers a picture of boys in skirts on my phone and makes me tell her I'm not "into that". I'm lying.

I transition. I get the "welcome to womanhood", but I have never felt welcome. I read on the good and proper websites where regular people go that traps, crossdressers, sissies, and femboys are just pretenders, unlike real trans women. I tell the people at the endocrinology clinic that I'm a woman deep inside so they will give me hormones.

I'm lying again.

[deardiarywrites]

⋆˙⟡ — get up girl ! how to get out of a rut

ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 ˆ𐃷ˆ

have you been feeling pretty sluggish lately? life seems to be moving so fast, that you can't even keep up? you want to do things but just seem to not have the energy to do so? do you feel like you are stuck in a loop? the same days play out over and over, wake up, school, come home, crash in bed, scroll for hours, and then feel guilty for being so unproductive while your pile of work keeps increasing. sometimes it feels like life is just not playing out in the way you want anymore. it feels like you have lost control. you're spiralling, falling face first. everything feels so hopeless but then- you, yes you, decide to get your life together. for how long are you going to live like this? and that is how the metamorphosis started. 𖦹ࡇ𖦹 step one : accepting where you are right now yes, you heard that right. pause for a second. take a deep breath. look around you. the state of your bed. your books. your skincare products. your yoga mat. your screentime. your to-do list. tune into your body and just accept your current lifestyle. ⋆ if this makes you feel sad, don't worry you can change! ⋆ if you feel motivated to get better, great! this is how you can save a wasted day : 𝜗𝜚 take a nice long shower, wash your hair, do your skincare and a facemask. put on your fav cute outfit, state one thing you love about yourself and compliment yourself on it. then if you feel like you want to, complete one task from your to-do list. or if you feel like you aren't ready yet, complete atleast 1% of something. choose your outfit for tmrw. or read one page of a book. meditate for 5 minutes. switch off your phone for 15 minutes. just do anything which makes you feel alive. and then rest. the sun will rise again.

(˶ˆᗜˆ˵) step two : coming up with a game plan now that you are aware of your current lifestyle, make a list of all the things that you do/experience which drains your energy and those things which make you feel happy. for eg - energery drainers : doomscrolling, comparing myself to others energy replenishers : going for a walk, dancing to fav music now after you have created that list, choose one habit from each category. it is advisable to start slow as it prevents burnout + making yourself feel overwhelmed. starting with easy habits will help you trust yourself more and thus will make this journey a lot more fun. remember you don't need to get better overnight. this is a journey! now an example of a gameplan for your first week could be like this : habit : doomscrolling (habit to quit) replace with : dancing to fav music wake up 30 mins earlier and go to bed 30 mins earlier (habit to cultivate) slowly you can add more and more habits that you wish to nurture and delete those nasty habits which deplete your energy !!!! okay so now that you have a gameplan, how do you stay motivated? ✩࿐࿔ step three : how to make life feel more vibrant by romanticizing everything romanticizing life is one way to totally switch up the narrative as it helps you feel like the main character. id really suggest to have atleast some sort of platform where you can store your progress. you could take cute pictures and add cute songs and post them on instagram or blog abt it on tumblr. or if you are a shy person, you could create a private acc with 0 followers and track your progress there. every problem has a solution babygirl! so don't give in to your excuses. you could also make a new playlist and listen to songs which make you feel like your highest self. listen to it when you feel down. tap into your creative side. create things and share it with the world. you will feel 10x times better i promise. ‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍀 ໒꒱ step four : believe in yourself sometimes.. life is just difficult. and you have no energy to do anything. so let yourself be. rest. crash out. cry. but promise me that you will always get back on your feet, no matter what. its okay to pause and step back. you can always start again. life can always change for you. but its up to you. nothing changes if nothing changes. so, what now?

[beuxwhoyouare]

Escaping Holiday Responsibilities

You know Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and all the boys. And who can forget about singing Hanerot Halalu after lighting the menorah. There’s symbols and entities representing all of the holidays. But outside of the season we enjoy our peace and quiet. Sometimes though a season is so rough you can’t really blame an entity for wanting to get away.

I may or may not be Santa Claus. I’d say the best perk about the gig is that when the time comes you’re almost guided to your successor who then dons the classic look. So it’s a give and take. I mean having the power to fulfill lists of gifts you desire is great, but acquiring the look of a tubby bearded old man isn’t all that. The coolest thing though is you may not know it, but just because you don’t write a list doesn’t mean you don’t have holiday desires. I can still deliver gifts based on the list you make in your hearts. Cute as hell right? I’m basically a mind reader!

Before all this Claus business, I was unemployed and recently divorced when I received the call to step into the good ol boots. So a gig is a gig. I took it and ran, but that was like 30 years ago. So now once I retire I’m actually gonna look old and ragged.

So there I was last night delivering gifts at this random place in Chicago. Doing my best to stay quiet, delivering gifts as low key as possible when CRAAAAAACK! I stepped on a large glass ornament I somehow missed. I thought I was in the clear after no one came to check what happened and as I headed on my way out a baseball bat swung at my head.

I took the hit like a champ but when I turned around to see I saw a man standing there in black sweatpants and a sleeveless shirt with the bat ready to swing again.

“Ho ho hey hey wait. I’m literally Santa.” I whisper yelled while showing snowy crystals come out of my glove.

Right as he began to swing again I pulled more tricks out of my hat.

“I know your name is Russell O’Connor. You got a gunmetal tricycle as a 4 year old because you thought the red ones the store had were tacky and wanted to look tough!”

That’s when he stopped mid-swing.

“How-how did you know that pervert? Have you been watching me for years?”

I began to hear his inner list….a young man now in his mid-20s regretting his life decisions to get a girl knocked up as a teen? Interesting. He desires to get away from the so-called mess he made.

“I can offer you a way out of the mess you made. If that’s what your true hearts wish is this Christmas?!” I pleaded to not be beaten once again.

“How do you know what I want freak?”

“Bro I’m Santa, I know when you’ve been like bad or good and whatever. Listen do you want to get away from the mess you made or what?”

“Yes okay but like how are you going to do it? You’re not going to kill me or anything?”

“Honestly no one’s really ever wished for this so I gotta be able to do it somehow. That’s the Santa magic!”

“Okay let’s go for it. Do it! Get me out of here!”

I closed my eyes and rubbed my gloved hands together and then pulled them apart. As I pulled them apart a spark started forming but I wasn’t sure what to do with it. I tried to hold it steady but before I knew it, the spark grew too wild to control. The energy then turned white and exploded.

There was a ringing and we both yelled but then black.

When I woke up I found myself pushing up from a bed? That’s weird I don’t remember finishing all my deliveries. I reached up to scratch my beard but instead of my long luscious white beard a more close shaved beard grazed my hand. Wait where are my gloves? And my beard?

I looked down at the bed I didn’t recognize before looking back up to walk over to a nearby restroom with the night light on. The dim glow painted a picture I couldn’t believe. Surely I’m dreaming?

I fumbled around the foreign room before locating the light switch, only to have the bright lights confirm what I was seeing. I raised both arms and posed….

“No fucking way!?” The cursing surprised me, being a Claus the job prevents your mouth from ever even forming a curse word.

I’m Russell? But the Santa step down process just returns you to your normal self not swaps you with someone? How did this? Could my desires have matched with his conflicting my magics intent?

I lifted the shirt barely hiding anything of my new body I now resided in. Woah…I wasn’t much of a gym person in my former life but maybe there’s reason to be. I mean look at this beef? I reached my muscular hand up to my new proud chest and squeezed. Ahhh grazing my new nipple I revealed a new found sensitivity I never previously had. Looks like that’s going to be fun, I nearly salivated.

I can do adult things again and live a life again! No more having to spend months working to achieve someone else’s dreams. Or maybe I’ll fulfill other dirtiest dreams. I mean this body should go to work somehow.

I’m sure OnlyFans would love to see how thick I am everywhere. It’s time to be a family man settle down the right way and make a good living by selling the best gift I’ve ever given myself.

My new tool hardening nearly pulling down my sweatpants waistband itself. I grabbed it before taking a peak at my new equipment. Ohhhhh looks like I’ll still be delivering gifts to quite a few people in different ways with this beer can.

[beegalactica]

hot girl tips to be more productive

With a million things to do, where do we find the time? Sometimes it can be so easy to just procrastinate, not do your work and keep pushing it back till it's too late. Let's not do that anymore.

5-minute rule - start small. If you've been putting something off for a long time, trying to commit 1 hour to it can be challenging. You can't do a marathon without a warm-up first! Could you set a timer for 5 minutes to do that task? After 5 minutes if you want to continue, go for it; if you don't, that's okay, because at least you've done 5 minutes today, which is better than 0. Tomorrow or later in the day, try to challenge yourself to do 7 minutes this time, then 10, then 15, and you will get into that rhythm.

Eliminate distractions - it's all because of that damn phone 🙄 but seriously, tech and social media can have such a tight grip over our productivity and our attention. If you cannot control your usage, set app timers that lock the app after you use it for a certain amount of time or delete the app. I've been using a minimalist phone launcher called 'OLauncher' that removes all my icons and makes me manually have to type and search for the app. In the time it takes me to search for the app, I get to ask myself, "What am I looking for? Do I need to use it for something specific or do I just want to scroll?"

Schedule properly - note down all your commitments and non-negotiables in an app like Google Calendar and make sure all your big events are displayed there. Some people can fall into the habit of planning every second of their day, but I instead delegate a few tasks to each day and give myself any time within the day to complete them, the important thing being not when I do them, but that I do them in the end.

Write to-do lists - now this doesn't just mean in-app lists, which are very useful. Physically write them out. I use a scrap piece of paper and I write: "Today I WILL..." and then list all the things I want to get done. Having it written down helps me commit to it more and the feeling of ticking it is so satisfying.

Know your WHY - Why are you doing this? Why do you want to be more productive? Why do you want to study more? Always look at the bigger picture. Where do you want to be and how will your productivity help you get there?

Celebrate your wins - whether you completed all the things on your to-do list or just one, be proud of it. Some days, you will feel super motivated and fly through all your tasks, and other days you just want to stay in bed and do nothing. Making an effort is the first step to your success.

No matter whether your goal is to complete a project, get good grades, get into the school of your dreams, or just get your work out of the way so you can focus on other things, tackle it little by little. Just 20 minutes every day for a week is better than trying to do 140 minutes worth of work on the last day.

[pixiecaps]

Mousey: While I was brushing my teeth and while I was doing all my stuff. And I’m like looking at myself in the mirror and I just all of a sudden it- it dawns on me that I’m standing in my bathroom looking at myself in my mirror. I am standing without assistance looking at myself in my mirror. And I’m brushing my teeth and I’m walking around my bathroom like a normal human. And then I started to think about, man that comment just made me realize what my 7 year anniversary really was about and it just made me think just how far I’ve come. It made me think about how my vtubing journey is especially important to me and especially special to me because not only is it my- how much I’ve worked to do this whole vtubing shit but it’s also a testament to myself personally. Which is something special to me because when I started vtubing I could not stand. When I started vtubing I could not walk. When I started vtubing I was bedridden and I could barely lift my head off a pillow. And it has taken me 7 years, 7 years of work, 7 years of whatever the fuck this has been, to be able to finally live as a normal human in my house walking around. Getting up, doing normal things. And it’s just insane to me to think that 7 years ago I could not stand in front of a mirror and brush my teeth.

Sometimes shit gets really hard and sometimes I feel like I’m regressing and I feel like shit just isn’t working out but I don’t really look at the big picture and I don’t realize just how far I’ve come to where I am today. You don’t really think about those things sometimes. And it just like hit me like a train yesterday when I was thinking about all this shit. And also I feel like it’s important to talk about this shit cause I just want people- Anybody that watches me, anybody to know that you may have a million and one setbacks in your life, you may have a million and one things that fuck you over in life but if you have enough perseverance and if you want it that bad you can take your life back. And you can make it into whatever the fuck you want. So I just want everybody to know.. that you can do it! Sometimes you feels like you can’t do it and it might not be in the way that you want to live your life and it might not be in the way that you want to do things but you can find a way to live life your way and do things your way.