Pedro At The Beach

Euphoria

I've decided to try a therapeutic series that is purely self-indulgent, but might resonate with some other peeps. This series is going to be very emotional and highly descriptive. Whilst containing a fair amount of smut, relates more to concepts of intimacy and self-loathing so please proceed at your own risk.

Triggers: 18+, smut, female reader, oral s@x, difficulty w/ orgasm, self-hatred, pic is a mood board only, attempt at Spanglish, this is the Pedge Universe so no PP characters on the cuddle couch...

It had been about a month. You looked in the mirror, pouting as you ran your hands over your body. Failure. A month of sexy-time operations and you felt dry as a bone. Your friends had recommended all the latest literature, toys, lube and more, but the problem was you. You were always the problem. Not your dreamy boyfriend. If anything, he was the bright spot in a dark horizon of frustration. Endlessly patient, supportive and emotionally available, you were starting to wonder what you did to deserve him. Almost on cue, you caught a puppy dog expression nosing his way into the slightly ajar bathroom door.

“Occupied?” he mused, lightly drifting his fingers over your waist and eventually draping himself around you in a bear hug. You continued pouting at your reflection in the mirror. “That’s a lot of heavy sighing for a Saturday” he pondered, setting his chin on your shoulder teasingly.

He broke into a bit of a smirk, poking your rib, “Do we get to continue our weekend explorations? I know what an academic you are, and I’ve been doing some research…”

Your eyebrows raised quizzically as you twisted mid-hug to rest your hands on his chest. “Is there any way to make that NOT sound like porn?” you joked, resting your forehead on his sternum. You heard a soft rumble, breathing in a scent of cologne, nicotine and mint.  “I mean, that’s not the WORST idea I ever heard, but what do I need with porn when I’ve got such a beautiful guinea pig here in my bathroom?” You smiled into his chest, starting to sway together absentmindedly. 

“I know I’m not supposed to be apologizing…” you began, but didn’t get very far, before he gently lifted your chin up, coaxing your eyes to meet his. He ghosted his lips over yours and moved lower to nibbling your chin and dragging his lips over your neck. “Unless you’re sorry for making me miss the new episode of Euphoria, I’m not sure what we’re doing here…” he mumbled into your clavicle.

You gently pulled his face up with both hands to get a better look. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately, it doesn’t have anything to do with you.” He huffed in comical frustration, widening his stance so he could get nose to nose with you, “Nina impaciente…good things cum to those who wait…” You forced a tight lipped smile. 

“Honestly, I know I’ve said so before, but it’s not a race. It’s not like washing the dishes, hermosa.” You snorted into your hands, covering your face with embarrassment.  “Maybe if we took a little break, and just enjoyed ourselves? Movie? Cuddle?” he started swaying again, lulling you into submission. You brightened slightly at the suggestion. His eyes twinkled with recognition, “Snacks?” Sold.

Ten minutes later, you were piled up on the couch, in your pjs, popcorn in hand. “Thank God! I’ve been thinking about Euphoria for like a WEEK!” Pedro teased, as you tossed a handful of popcorn at his face. Somehow this man was forcing you to relax despite your own insecurities. How did he do that? You settled your feet on his lap, as he immediately began a gentle massage. “Let the suffering BEGIN!” he noted, grabbing the remote, eyes alight with interest. Your mouth began to twist in amusement at his golden retriever-like optimism. The lights of the tv flashed across his attentive expression. Such a nice profile, and his shoulders were so ridiculously broad. You felt a light throbbing as your womanhood tried to communicate through Morse Code. Shifting under the blankets, you pinched your legs together in protestation. 

“You okay over there?” a voice interrupted, now moving his thumb up your leg and resting on your thigh. “Just getting comfortable” you squeaked, confused at your body’s unpredictable reactions. The two of you had all but conjured spells and incantations to reach your now elusive climax, but that didn’t seem to dim your desire or confusion. “Why does she insist on TORTURING herself???” Pedro now exclaimed, throwing a gummy bear at the tv.

Why did she? Why does she? Your lower lip began to tremble involuntarily. It’s my body. Why can’t I force it into submission? Why is it so hard to surrender? A big fat, salty tear dripped down your face, now buttering your popcorn.

“Hey, hey…what’s happening over there? The episode hasn’t even started yet…” Pedro’s eyebrows wrinkled in concern as he reached over to catch the newly falling cascade. It was all too much, as your face distorted in pain, amid squeaks and sniffles. Cupping your face with both hands he pleaded quietly, “Please let me help, hermosa…” grabbing your waist and pulling your hiccuping body close to his. “Can we try things my way, please?” His weight was comfortingly boxing you in and anchoring you down. “I know you want to be a ‘wham bam thank you ma’am' kind of gal, but some of us need a little more coaxing…” he joked as you dissolved into a fit of giggles.

“I just don’t know what’s wrong with me” you acquiesced. 

“There’s nothing wrong with you. What we’re looking for is a different kind of ‘Euphoria’” he chided. Then, honest to God, the man booped you on the nose with his. Reaching over for the remote he silenced the tv, and interlacing his hand in yours, he locked eyes with you, slowly drawing you into the bedroom. “It’s time to take our time”.

This euphoric evening was eventually termed, “The Great Awakening” but it didn’t start out that way. As he seductively removed your oversized sweater you stood slightly shivering, awkwardly covering your breasts.

“Your audience is requesting more VIP access” he teased, dragging his fingers over your collarbone and down your sternum. Rolling your eyes comically you helped pull his white t-shirt up and over his head, revealing his smooth, honeyed skin. Moving his hands lower he pulled at your sweat pants to reveal a red lace thong you had desperately purchased at Victoria’s Secret. His mouth went slack in surprise. “What do we have here?” he rasped, cupping the orbs of your ass and bringing your hips dangerously close to his steadily hardening self.

“Clothes make the woman?” you sniffled, sighing heavily into his chest and resuming your characteristic couple’s sway.

“This time, a LACK of clothes may make the woman…” he joked, wrapping his arm around your waist and taking your hand in his. You felt yourself melt into his body as you swayed in a slow dance at the foot of the bed. Reaching down, you attempted to finger his boxer shorts, but he deftly maneuvered out of the way.

“No hermosa, we’re doing you this evening…all evening.” he whispered, now inches from your ear. Shuddering in his embrace, you tried to slow your breathing, closing your eyes. 

“That’s it…No more racing to the finish line, let the pleasuring begin…” he growled, setting you down on the bed and stroking one finger from the top of your forehead to the soft flesh of your inner thigh, where he started lightly kneading in circles. A shaky breath brought another shudder to your body as he began kissing your knees, thighs, hips and stomach. Drawing your hands above your head, he gently pinned you to the mattress, moving his knee just below your crotch. “I’m going to kiss you now, for an impossibly long time, so get a big breath…” he smiled, and before you could chuckle, he did just that. Tongue. Teeth. Lips. Warmth. Honeyed sweetness and moaning breaths. It was the exposition to a beautiful poem, tumbling verse upon verse. Interlocking lips, stuttering sighs, quick intake of air and hands, hands, hands. Hands everywhere, dripping down your side, feather light touch to your face. Palming your stomach and thumbing your belly button.

Your entire body bucked underneath him as you felt pools of desire gravitate downward. You gasped into his mouth as he massaged your breasts, pinching both nipples in a firm tease. He started licking into your mouth, coaxing moan after moan as you began to lose yourself in the rhythm. White noise. White hot. Searing white heat, as your mind went blank and your body writhed in ecstasy. You mewled like a child as his hands and mouth intentionally moved south, nibbling at your tits and sucking a quick trail from your sternum to your navel. 

Heavy lidded eyes flew open in confused distress as you propped yourself up on your forearms, “Wait, I’m not ready down there! She’s not…uh….trim…” you sputtered, trying to form a coherent sentence. It was nearly comical catching him with tongue poised and eyes wide as saucers. Quickly catching his breath he teased, “The best part of a treasure hunt is when sex marks the spot…”. Eyeing him with incredulity you were about to offer a quick retort until he licked a long stripe from the base of your fourchette all the way up to your clit…and you were gone. 

Crime and Punishment Fic-Let

Bookshop: As per your recommendation, Joel is our shop owner. I think there's something appealing in a man who says little, but obviously feels so much. I just finished reading Pedge's rec for "Crime and Punishment" and it's a doozy. Joel has a lot...or very little say about it.

Triggers: profanity, alcohol consumption, no dubcon just drunk Joel seeking solace, spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", "Last of Us" canon, references to injury/violence/murder/prostitution...Psh...@iamasaddie I took this in a totally different direction than I expected! Thank you for the fic-let prompt, this fit in perfectly to the series.

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1k

The whiskey infused fragrance of Joel’s breath fanned across your face seductively, as he balanced precariously behind the back of the sofa. Feeling a surge of arousal, euphoria, concern and fear was a heady mixture, as you glanced upstairs to ensure Ellie was still asleep.

“Joel, I’m so glad you’re back, and that you’re safe” you began, as he shymied out of his winter’s coat, letting it drop clumsily to the floor.

“I ever told you how pretty you are?” he slurred, tipping backward with relaxation, as you gripped his wrists firmly.

“Why don’t you come on over here, Miller, and tell me while you’re sitting down?” you cocked an eyebrow sky high, determined to shield Ellie from this temporary lapse, and equally insistent to protect Joel in his vulnerable state. Dragging him carefully around the couch, you heard the cat utter a plaintive meow of encouragement as Joel’s heavy-laden feet staggered to your side before he collapsed unceremoniously next to you.

“Preeeeetty eyes, pretty little mouth…pretty skin…” he rambled, the full weight of his body sinking into the couch rapturously, as his eyes fluttered half mast. You gulped hungrily, trying to still the yearning within you. Tucking your feet underneath yourself, you leaned forward to place a hand atop his forehead, dragging it down slowly to find his chiseled, and grizzled face.

“What happened to you, Miller?” you pouted, closing the book that was in your lap and sighing with relief as Joel closed his eyes contentedly.

“Pretty thoughts too…” he mumbled, fighting a losing battle against his own inebriation, as you brought your hand down to his chest, feeling the steadiness of his thrumming heart. His eyes shot open abruptly, as he swayed slightly upright, “Ellie here?”.

“She’s fine, just relax soldier…” you coo’d, as Joel collapsed once again, drawing his hand to find yours. 

“Didn’t do my homework” he grinned, nuzzling his face into the side of the couch and stroking your arm affectionately.  You smiled sweetly, looking over at the orange tabby for any encouragement whatsoever, and finding none.

“I think we can make an exception, just this once” you whispered, starting to draw a quilt around Joel’s broad frame in the hopes he would simply drift off to sleep.

“I did it, ya know?” he muttered, shivering slightly with the changing temperature and settling further into the furniture’s embrace. “I’m a Rascal…”. You wrinkled your brow in consternation. This couldn’t just be from the lengthy week’s patrol. What was antagonistically driving Joel to seek solace at the bottom of a bottle? And what did this have to do with “Crime and Punishment”? Or the character, Rascalnikov?

“Rascal is suffering, that’s for sure. But he’s gonna get justice and redemption and Love. He just has to go through a heap of punishment first…” you tried to deflect, soothing Joel as much as possible with feather light strokes through his hair and across his forehead.

“So much sufferin’…” Joel’s face crumpled in anguish before resuming a mask of stoicism. “Tess…Sarah…and Ellie…Sofia…”.

You pursed your lips with appraisal. It sounded like fantasy and reality were starting to collide. Did he mean Sofia, the prostitute? Who were Tess and Sarah? Lovers? Friends? Family? A barrage of questions besieged you as Joel muttered under his breath quietly. “I’m gonna get you some water” you stalled, before Joel’s hand shot out reflexively to grab your wrist. Strong. That was gonna bruise tomorrow, but you didn’t flinch. He needed you right now. Needed something.

“Sofia…” his eyes glossed over with an emotive sheen. Who were these people?

“Joel, who is Tess?” Joel stilled quietly, his breathing evening out steadily. “Who is Sarah?” you mumbled lowly to yourself, biting your lower lip.

“Sarah’s my girl…” Joel surged to life tentatively, looking around the room as though searching for a ghost. “Sarah’s…gone…Sarah’s…my Sarah…” he repetitively intoned, like a mournful mantra. Lover? Sister? This was obviously not the time or place, but maybe you could inquire sensitively with Ellie, if she even knew. “And my Sofia…” his fingers found your face tenderly as you met his eyes with compassion. What had happened to this beautiful man, and how could you possibly help?

“Try to sleep Joel” you shook your head with concern. This was no time for an interrogation, and you didn’t immediately see any injuries or bruises. Like so many scars of life, these wounds seemed altogether invisible to the eye and yet still completely damaging to the heart.

“I know…you know?” he whispered into the couch, as though seducing an unknown lover.

“What honey? What do you know?” you sighed watching his eyes flutter shut in heavier sleep.

“Know you’re not a teach…” he trailed off, finally snoring quietly, his arms dropping to his side uselessly. Your mouth parted slightly in acknowledgement, as the orange tabby stared at you uncannily silhouetted by the flickering firelight.

Shit.

Pedge's Bonfire

Pedro Scouts was my first Tumblr activity ever and it was a GREAT summer activity to participate in! Things have been winding down with Fall responsibilities, but Pedge and I needed to get away and garner a couple more badges! Ah, nature....All of my reblogs are found on my second account @pedrotease!

Endured the Storm: Blossom Beauty, Blossom A Very Special Episode of PB + J Fantasy: Good Girl @aurorawritestoescape Trope Off-Sex Pollen Din Djarin One Shot @auteurdelabre The Correspondence of the Contagious @crowandmousewritingco Touchstone @sawymredfox Road Trip: Are You Alright, Honey? @javigutierrez Knuckles Deep @ozarkthedog Knuckle Deep in the Backseat @cxrsed-angel Changed Username: I lurked on Tumblr for almost a full year before I started writing! I used to be @shadowcupcakewitch but she is no longer. Now we are all Pedge, all the time...

I'm also celebrating 100 reblogs with @burntheedges Roll-a-Trope Challenge reblog of "Pike's Place"! Thanks @inept-the-magnificent for the cool rec's and encouragements on this Slow Burn Winter Series, final installment on Christmas Day. Now, Pedge and I better get back to camping, we only have one sleeping bag, whatever will we do?

The One With Racism

Triggers: This one goes strong, so if you're feeling sensitive, please avoid. Discussion of racism, misogyny, anti-semitism, queerphobia, spirituality, profanity, racist symbolism, SH, ideation, NC. Pedge the Therapist has RPF vibes, but he's just the avatar I use to discuss difficult topics.

Alright, Pedge is hiding in the corner trembling slightly, because I want to discuss our recent discourse around racism, but Pedge doesn’t want to. I’m reminding him that Pedro Pascal is delightfully vocal about his own beliefs, which we heartily subscribe to, but Pedge is still feeling a little shy, and that’s okay too. We finally went and read “the fic”.

To be more accurate, we skimmed the fic until we found the reference to the Confederate Flag. I appreciated the reader who gently questioned its inclusion, though I can no longer see the writer’s response. Being Jewish, I also resonated with the supposition that a swastika would be equally in bad taste, which I understand and agree with.

Having adored this writer for the last year+, I can’t claim to know them personally, but I feel I know something about literary style. This character is PURPOSEFULLY in bad taste and our main character gets off on using him sexually. The most I could definitively say is that I don’t find this type of situation appealing, but I can intellectually understand someone who might. Besides which, the main character is listed without ethnicity or physical description. So that means, I, as a Jewish woman, have the literary option to literally give a “fuck you” to this ridiculous fictional character. For me, this is equivalent to NC fics or SH which I find more personally appealing because I can explore these darker emotions in a fictional setting so I can bring them into the light, not hide them further in the shadows. I get to exercise literary control, and in regards to racism, that is something that many of us feel we lack. (*adendum; this was after I was alerted to its content, which was not specifically included in the triggers....)

I really think that’s what the author was trying to express. If you don’t think that, then please keep saying so, in as truthful a way as possible. Your experience is completely different than mine, and I want to hear about it. I didn’t read this fic when it came out because I don’t find this character appealing, and I didn’t find him appealing in the SNL sketch, but that's just me. As a queer Jewish woman, I experience anti-semitism, misogyny and self-hatred from within, and that’s what I have SOME control over and am currently working on.

Pedge and I also appreciated the discussion that ensued after, though I’m sad the writer left. They had already temporarily exited the fandom last year, so I think that’s an indication of many nuances happening behind the scenes that I can't comment on. The last thing I’ll say is the personal ways I’m interested in combating racism in my own life, since that’s the only thing I have dominion over.

-Go back and read my own fics and see if any can easily remove ethnic/gender descriptions and if I’m interested in doing that. I have already written some fics with that mindset.

-Continue to write for characters that are unique in the ways that I understand; Jewish, queer, “passing”, spiritual…and safely explore darker writing prompts regarding SH, NC and ideation.

-Continue to elucidate controversial or potentially hurtful topics in the listed triggers

-I personally don’t think it’s appropriate for me to write to the black experience, because it’s not mine. For me, that would be the height of arrogance to think I could articulate the intimate experience of my brothers and sisters. Other writers might be able to, but that feels inappropriate for me to even attempt it. I would rather read books by black authors, continue to chat with all of my friends about their personal experiences to inform my own, and support as many artists as I can in expressing the varied and beautiful creativity of the human condition.

-I will continue to support black, queer, Mexican, trans, gay, bi, handicap and other minority groups in whatever way I can creatively think of, as I continue to learn more.

Sigh. And if this writer should ever return to the fandom, I think we could continue to voice any concerns in the way our aforementioned reader did. Gently, and with love. Pedge is feeling very sleepy now, but he is reminding me that we don’t often see others the way they are; we see them the way WE are. And that should be as self-informing about our experience as anything else.

To read some more thoughts on the matter check out @whataperfectwasteoftime insights. I found it very comprehensive and thought provoking...

Pedge Polls + Prompts

Oooh! Pedge and I are such a sucker for these cute games! Thanks @burntheedges for a great idea, anyone want to join in? The only one tenuous is the last because this year I was finally published! Not sure you can tell from my non-beta'd writing lol...Looks like I need to start drinking those 6 shots of espresso...

Moody Nathan

I gotta be totally honest: I forgot this character existed. I'm so sorry Pedge. Oh boy. I think I'm gonna owe him extra chocolate chip cookies, he just went in the other room. PEDGE, I'M SORRY!...I must have seen this character back in the day, but I've never seen a fic about him. They must exist! Are you the one to write it??? I think I've got my hands full, making apologies. PEDGE, I CAN HEAT UP SOME HOT CHOCOLATE WHEN THE WEATHER COOLS DOWN??? Gotta go folks...amends must be made...

The One That Almost...

Triggers: meandering weirdness, SH, ideation, illness, spirituality, asexuality, profanity...good luck...

Y'all, this year was strange. I doubled down on therapy and fitness...and crying, if we're honest. I went back to an old job for less money. I started communicating more with my employer about chronic illness, and I disappeared from a vibrant social life almost entirely.

No Pedge, my darling, I am NOT okay, but in 2024 I developed a genuine appreciation for that. Having survived a hysterectomy, my body is embarking on the next strange reboot, and most of the holidays were derailed because of this.

I'm not sure I've ever cried so much or been so confused. Yesterday I didn't even leave the house, and today I'm visiting the parentals to celebrate New Year by 8pm flat. And then I'm leaving lol. I've been so encouraged by Pedge's unconventional holiday because I feel like he GETS it.

I'm displeased with the election results, my parents are struggling, and my health prognosis is nebulous. I was offered a Broadway Tour that I declined, did no substantial traveling, and cultivated an AMAZING friendship with a man who is on the other side of the country. Broke up with my "gay husband", experimented with an "ace" label, discovered I don't want to get married or have kids, and am deconstructing my spiritual beliefs one devastating reality at a time.

AND...I'm writing a TON. I'm showing up more authentically in ALL my relationships, including self. I am more convinced than ever of the experience of Love, and somehow I continue to make my world a better place. I'm turning out to be the love of my life!

It's confusing as hell, but I'm not dead yet, and by golly I'm happy about that! I get to exist! I still haven't met Papi Pascal, but I'm not actually sure I want to. Everybody I know who has worked with him says he's a dream, and I believe them. Just knowing that we exist in the same world makes me happy, and today, that's enough. Plus, I had one quick convo with Coco, and she's just as sweet as our guy. I continue to be entranced.

Adding the button to my year of "almosts" I've been waiting to celebrate having 100 followers...as I'm stuck at 99. I considered doing some sort of Tumblr campaign, but honestly, WHY? I write for me! Goals are good, but this almost seems more fitting. I have a bazillion WIP's and it's helping me get through my health challenges, and that's what I need right now. As much of our Pazookie Pedge as we can STAND, and then a bit more...

So here is to a year of "almosts"! None of it looked quite right, it didn't follow my agenda, and it involved a lot more snot than anyone has a right to. But I still get to exist, and there's nothing "almost" about that. Thanks Pedro Pascal for being alive! I'm gonna try to do the same...

Hey beauties! Welcome to Pedge's World, our little corner of the digital universe where healing, freedom and chocolate chip cookies reign supreme! Pedge helps me sort through all of my sad, sexy, angry, euphoric, hungry, cranky, spiritual, creative moods! I hope you will join us! 18+, no minors!

Sexy Series Masterlist (RPF)

Let's Stick Together!

Art Projects Dieter's Art Studio; My Darling Muse

Afterglow Series Dead Dove December; The Deepest Cut

Pedge's Campsite

Fun With Mood Boards!

Pedro Boys

Pedro Posts, Polls and Prompts

Pedge's Juke Box

Pedge Tweets!

Pedge's Bookshop

Pedge's Cinema

My Darling Muse,

Dieter is in LOVE. He's just not sure if he's met them yet. But in the interim, he's keeping a journal to house all of his inspiration, poetry and recipes, before they fly out of his head. And once he meets the ONE...or ONES...this is going to be his gift to you. Along with those sexy time IOU's he's always handing out. Love this post @for-a-longlongtime, and inspired by the Trope-Off (Dieter Bravo/Pen Pals)

Trigger: it's Dieter bub so this series will DEFINITELY include profanity, drugs, alcohol, sex, smut and any meanderings D wants...He's endlessly inspired by art, poetry, songs, sex and YOU!

My Darling Muse (ii) My Darling Muse (iii) My Darling Muse (iv) My Darling Muse (v) My Darling Muse (vi) My Darling Muse + Pedge's Jukebox My Darling Muse (vii) My Darling Muse, My Darling Dieter My Darling Muse, My Darling Dieter (ii) My Darling Muse, My Darling Dieter (iii) Dieter's Art Studio; Where is D?

*Goya's "Saturn", *thanks @thecutestgrotto for the cool dividers

My Darling Muse,

The night awakens my deepest darkest desires I claw at my own skin, desperate to be released Into your embrace, into your cavernous heart You devour me, I devour you. We ravage each other in the stillness of the night Howling, yawping, digging into the recesses of our passion Chewing me up, Spitting me out I unravel at your touch, disintegrate in your kiss. I sink my teeth into your supple flesh Drinking in your life, your blood The carnality of our existence My eyes are wide with terror in vulnerability I hold you in my dangling grasp as you hold me Headless, thoughtless, armless, shoeless Less and less, and more and more I die to to you, to myself, and am reborn in your arms.

(scribbled in margins: New tattoo? Metaphor for drinking pussy? Am I a cannibal? How much semen would you have to drink, if you were stranded on a desert island? Out of red paint. Was Goya bi? Okay to eat acrylic paint? New sexy position hurting back...)

Moody Witch

Ha! Okay Pedge and I wanted to try our hands at some Spooky Season Fics, so this weekend we are going to attempt our first Moody Max short. We just watched "Bloodsucking Bastards" and it was a hoot.

Also stay tuned for the Roll-a-Trope Challenge, Episode Five of "Pike's Place; Nightmare Before Christmas". Everything is starting to get intense, it's the Season of the Witch y'all!