RoleplayTaboo

he waves at the screen. “hola, mis amores. what’s up? i’ve got twenty minutes before they drag me to another interview.”

a question flashes across the screen: “are you alone rn?”

pedro squints at it, then lets out a soft laugh. “nope. i’m with her.”

from offscreen, your voice floats in, unmistakably yours.

“tell them who you’re with.”

he glances over, can’t stop the way the corners of his mouth lift like they always do when you’re around. “she’s right here. the woman i get to call co-star—and, y’know, a few other things.”

you reply, a touch smug. “a few other things indeed.”

pedro reaches for the snack bowl and winces.

“you better not be eating the popcorn meant for both of us.”

he raises a guilty hand. “that depends. is it a crime if it’s really good popcorn?”

thwack. a popcorn kernel hits him square in the chest.

“hey—!” he yelps, mock-offended.

“she’s throwing snacks at me,” he tells the camera with a grin. “this is the level of love and respect i receive.”

“wait that’s??” “no bc that voice is unmistakable” “they’re together rn??” “the way he said ‘i’m with her’ like it’s the most natural thing 😭” “they’ve always been best friends but this… this feels different.” “he looks like he just exhaled after three years of holding his breath.”

pedro laughs, softer now. there’s something easy in the way his shoulders drop.

“yep. she’s been keeping me sane through this whole press tour.”

he scrolls through the questions, murmuring to himself. then, aloud:

“‘what’s your comfort food?’ hmm. that’s easy mexican food. or… those little chocolate things she keeps buying—you know the ones, babe?”

the room stills.

he blinks.

you freeze.

“babe?? excuse me??” “he said babe. i repeat. he. said. babe.” “no way. no acting. that slipped out too naturally.” “their best-friend act just died in real time 😭❤️” “he’s so gone for her and he doesn’t even know he said it.” “this isn’t a soft launch this is a crash landing into love”

pedro blinks again. “shit.”

you let out a laugh, hiding behind your sleeve. “good job, pascal.”

he rakes a hand through his curls, pink in the face. “so… yeah. that happened.”

the comments are scrolling so fast he can’t read them anymore.

“i need oxygen” “they’re in the same room. he called her babe. i am unwell.” “they're so giddy help they’re in love fr” “all their interviews make sense now they looked so smitten and we didn’t see it”

you climb up beside him on the couch, curling into the space like it’s where you’ve always belonged which it is.

pedro leans into you on instinct. like muscle memory.

you don’t say anything for a second. you just smile at him, all warmth and fondness.

he turns toward the camera again, rubbing the back of his neck.

“we’ve been together a while. a long while. we just… liked the parts that were ours. off-camera. quiet.”

you nod, voice softer now. “we were never hiding. just… protecting it.”

pedro’s gaze drops to your joined hands offscreen. his thumb rubs lightly over your knuckles.

“she’s been my person for years. through everything. and i didn’t mean to let that slip but maybe it’s time.”

“they were never hiding they were protecting it i’m sobbing” “this is what real love looks like holy sh—” “i feel like i just witnessed a wedding” “he looks so peaceful with her. like he finally exhaled.”

“i wasn’t supposed to say it,” pedro repeats, cheeks flushed. “but i’m glad i did.”

he turns toward you again. “she’s… my favorite person. the calm in my chaos. the reason i actually sleep on planes now.”

you laugh through a glassy smile. “you only sleep because i pack the melatonin and force you to wear that travel pillow.”

he grins wider. “and she makes fun of me constantly. but yeah. she’s my heart.”

there’s a long pause. not empty. full. overflowing.

the kind of silence you don’t want to interrupt.

“i don’t know how i ever did this without her,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “and now i never want to.”

“they’re so in love this isn’t even acting anymore” “this is the softest, most beautiful reveal of all time” “protect them at all costs omg” “i’ve never seen someone look at another person like that before”

you blink back tears and smile, playful to the end. “you ready to be softer on main?”

pedro chuckles and threads your fingers through his, resting them in his lap. “only if you are, mi amor.”

he doesn’t even bother ending the live right away. he just stays there with you.

pedro’s phone buzzes nonstop the second he opens his eyes.

you’re still asleep beside him, one hand curled under your cheek, hair a mess from the night before. he watches you breathe for a moment, like none of the internet just watched him call you babe in front of 100k people.

then his lock screen lights up again.

pedro’s phone wouldn’t stop buzzing.

he blinked blearily at the screen as it lit up beside him on the nightstand, vibrating so hard it nearly slid off.

oscar isaac: "you said babe on live???? 😭😭😭 call me rn."

bella ramsey: "you're trending, old man. i knew it."

and then: an avalanche.

he groans into the pillow.

“you broke the internet, didn’t you?”

“…possibly.”

pedro flips his phone to show you:

the memes.

one of pedro blushing with the caption:

“when you call your gf ‘babe’ on live and remember the world’s watching”

a screenshot of his face mid-slip, zoomed 300%:

“in this exact moment… he knew, he fucked up.”

you can’t stop laughing.

later that morning, the two of you are seated on a velvet couch for a press interview.

the host grins as he shuffles his cards and leans forward dramatically.

“so… pedro.”

pedro shifts beside you, one ankle crossed over his knee, hair artfully messy, the top of his shirt open just enough to be distracting.

“yes?” he answers playfully.

“we all saw the livestream.”

audience: screams

pedro puts a hand over his heart. “listen. in my defense—”

you cut in, smirking. “there is no defense. you called me babe in front of instagram live and then stared into the abyss like your soul left your body.”

the audience dies. pedro covers his face in mock agony.

“i blacked out!” he insists.

the host chuckles. “how long had you two been secretly together?”

pedro peeks at you. you raise an eyebrow, silently daring him.

he answers softly, “a while. years.”

the room quiets just slightly just enough for the honesty to land.

you nod. “we wanted to keep the magic for ourselves, you know? have something untouched.”

pedro glances at you with something unreadable in his eyes. not unreadable to you, though.

it’s love.

the kind people spend their whole lives trying to find.

“and now that it’s out?” the host asks.

“You look at me like you ain’t ever gonna stop,” you whispered, a teasing smile playing at the corners of your mouth.

Joel didn’t smile back. Not exactly. His eyes flicked over your face, then down your body like he was drinking it in, slow and thorough. “That’s ‘cause I ain’t,” he muttered, voice low and rough from the hour, from whatever thick emotion had coiled in his chest. “Don’t wanna miss a single fuckin’ thing about you.”

Then his hand slid lower.

You’d thought you knew his touch. After all the nights tangled together in that bed, the lazy mornings and the needy evenings, you thought you understood how Joel moved, how he kissed, how he claimed. But this—this was different. He wasn’t in a hurry. There was no urgency, no grinding desperation like the first few months when you both couldn’t get enough. This was slower. Darker. Hungrier in a way that didn’t need to rush.

“You trust me, baby?” he asked, his lips at your throat, his voice so close it melted right into your skin.

You nodded before the question even finished leaving his mouth, your body already arching toward his like instinct. And that was all he needed. His hand slipped between your legs, spreading you open like it was second nature. And it was, now. He knew your body better than anyone. Better than you did, sometimes. But tonight, he was focused. Intent. Not just giving you pleasure but searching for something—like he knew it was there, buried under the layers of control you didn’t know you had, and he was hell-bent on dragging it out of you.

His fingers were slick with your arousal in seconds. He groaned when he felt it, dragging the sound out like it physically hurt to hold it in. “Christ. You’re already soaked for me. You been thinkin’ about this all day?”

You whimpered—barely a sound, more like an exhale caught between his fingers and the way your hips rolled into his hand. “Always thinkin’ about you,” you whispered, because it was true. In Jackson, where the world had softened just enough to let you breathe, Joel had filled every space. Every thought. Every ache.

And maybe he felt it too, because his mouth found yours in that moment, hot and slow, full of teeth and breath and hunger. He kissed you like he had to, like if he didn’t he might lose his mind, and all the while his fingers moved with unrelenting precision—circling, pressing, teasing that spot just inside you until your thighs began to tremble.

But he didn’t stop. Didn’t let you squirm away or catch your breath. If anything, he doubled down.

“You feel that?” he murmured against your lips, dragging the pad of his thumb up to circle your clit while two fingers curled inside you. “Right there. That little flutter?” He punctuated it with another slow press, curling just so. “You’re close. Real close. But I want more than that from you tonight, sweetheart.”

You clutched at his shoulders, gasping as your body twisted under the weight of sensation. “Joel—fuck—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he growled, gripping your thigh and spreading you wider. “You will. Gonna get you there, baby. Gonna make you fall apart for me in a way you never have before.”

Your body was clenching around his fingers now, wet sounds filling the room with every pump of his hand. It was too much. Not enough. A pleasure so sharp it started to scare you—but Joel was there, anchoring you, talking you through it in that low, gravelly drawl like he’d been waiting for this.

“You feel like you’re gonna lose control?” he rasped, his voice like gravel and smoke. “That’s it, baby. That’s what I want. Let it happen. Let go. Don’t hold back from me—don’t ever hold back.”

Your back arched and your hips jerked, and you felt it snap. Something inside you broke open, a dam giving way, and then—

It was everywhere.

You cried out—loud, shocked, almost tearful—as your body spasmed, liquid gushing out of you, soaking his hand, the sheets, everything. You tried to close your legs, tried to pull away in the aftermath, but Joel wouldn’t let you. He held you there, eyes wide with awe, lips parted like he couldn’t fucking believe what he’d just seen.

“God damn, baby,” he breathed, his voice caught somewhere between reverence and raw lust. “You fuckin’ squirted for me.”

You turned your face into the pillow, mortified and overwhelmed, but he didn’t give you a second to spiral.

“Hey,” he said, gripping your jaw gently, tilting your face back toward his. His pupils were blown wide, hair sticking to his forehead. “Don’t you dare be embarrassed. That was the hottest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen. You hear me?”

You nodded, blinking through the daze, your heart pounding like it might leap out of your chest.

Joel grinned, dark and wolfish and downright feral. “You’ve been holdin’ that in all this time? No one’s ever made you come like that?”

You shook your head.

His expression twisted into something possessive, something primal. “Good. I want it to be me. Only me. No one else gets to see you like this.”

He dragged his soaked fingers up your thigh, up your belly, smearing slick against your skin before bringing them to his lips and sucking them clean with a groan that made your core pulse all over again.

“Jesus, baby,” he said, voice rough. “You taste so fuckin’ sweet when you come like that. You’ve got no idea what you do to me.”

You whimpered as he leaned over you again, pressing his thick length against your still-throbbing core.

“Think you can give me one more?” he whispered, already lining himself up, already kissing the sweat from your collarbone like he’d never get enough. “Wanna see it again. Wanna feel you soak me while I’m buried deep inside.”

And you knew, right then, that Joel wasn’t going to stop until he wrung every last drop from you. Until you couldn’t remember your name. Until the sheets were ruined, and you were wrecked, and he was satisfied that no one could ever come close to what he gave you.

And you wouldn’t want it any other way.