#but I’m a sucker for this kind of plot

[mostly-natm]

Lore keeps a baby (out of spite).

[luveline]

Maybe colt comforting reader when things for her film aren’t going right 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Colt comes to your rescue (clumsily) when you have a hard day. fem!reader, 1k words

Very minor plot spoilers for The Fall Guy (2024) if any

“I think he’s mad at you.” 

You pause where you’d been scrubbing your eyes with your hands, though you don’t look at him. Colt Seavers seems to follow you everywhere you go, and consequently plays witness to your many breakdowns. “Thanks, Colt. That’s astute.” 

“Are you mad at me? Why are you mad at me? It’s been ten seconds,” he complains. He has a unique talent for sounding flirty and needy at once. 

“No, Colt. I’m tired, it’s been a long day.” 

Colt is grinning when you meet his eyes. He has blood, fake or real undetermined, drying in the scruff of his facial hair. You gesture to yourself in a slow circle in the approximate area, to which Colt smiles again. 

“You look perfect,” he says confidently. 

“You have blood in your beard.” 

“Oh, right.” 

You sigh heavily, taking the few paces back to a stack of safety mattresses for a quick break. You’ll get up and help whoever needs helping as soon as you can feel your toes. Colt stays where he is, squinting against the sun, strands of blonde ends kissing his tan forehead. The summer shoots are good for him, he always looks so beachy. You’re exhausted all the time. 

As he notices. “Are you getting enough sleep?” he asks. 

“Yeah.” 

“‘Cos I was sleeping badly and then I got this new mattress that has four hybrid layers, there’s a foam layer, and then there’s titanium springs,” —he sees your distant expression and his own flickers— “anyways, you could try it if you want. Test it out with me. Or– Not with me. With me if you want. We’d have fun. But not with me if you don’t want to.” 

You’d laugh if you had the energy. “Do you wanna sit down?” you ask. 

“God, yes, please.” 

He has another talent for being insanely handsome no matter the day. You look like you’ve been badly rewarmed before serving, where he looks like he rolled out of bed with a smile. He’s smiling at you now, the foolish kind that’ll fluster you if you let him do it for too long. “Stop,” you say quietly. 

“You’re doing amazing.” 

“Thank you. You’re the only person who thinks so, unfortunately.” 

You smile at him weakly. Worried you look pathetic, you turn your face to your lap and clasp your fingers together. 

“That’s not true. Mayview is old-fashioned, that’s all, he was around when they were still killing horses on TV.” 

You grimace. “Yikes.”

“But it’s the modern era. He doesn’t get to make you feel like shit, or I’ll make him feel like shit.” He pretends to charge a sucker punch. 

You lean forward a touch, not quite hugging your knees but tempted to fold in on yourself nonetheless, the heat of the sun a memory on your neck as the evening begins and cloud cover floods in. 

The safety mattresses beneath you squeak and shush against each other. Your weight and Colt’s slides together slowly. He might be pushing himself a little with his boot, but you pretend not to notice as his hand comes to rest between your shoulders. 

“I just can’t do anything right,” you mumble. 

As soon as you’ve said it you’re hoping he can’t hear you, but he does. He might have injured pretty much anything that can be fractured, sprained, or just plain broken, but he has stellar hearing. “You do everything right. You do!” he says, quietly and passionately at once, “They don’t realise it, but you’re the glue keeping this whole thing together.” 

“What are you?” you ask, bemused.

His hand is warm on your shoulder, unafraid where he hesitates to answer, “I don’t know. The test dummy? The guy who gets set on fire a lot?” 

“How is that?” 

“Warm,” he says, beaming, his face so unexpectedly close that you can see the glucose shining in the blood on his cheek. Fake blood. “You wanna try it? I’m sure I could convince the guys.” 

“No, I’m okay.” 

His voice turns silky. “Good, I wasn’t gonna let you anyway.” 

“Let me?” 

“You could get hurt.”

You give in, melted maybe by his warm tones, or exhausted by a day of playing mom for a director who can barely tell his left from his right. Your face presses to his shoulder and your spine sags under his hand, prompting Colt to pull you flush against his side. He always waits for your signals for stuff like this, no matter how desperate he might confess to being. “Can you make them all leave me alone?” you mumble into his jacket, the fabric rough against your nose. 

“Obviously I can, but… We could run away.” 

“Where would we go?” 

“I don’t know. Somewhere sunny. You can rub sunblock on my back, I can hold the umbrella over your head while you read.” 

“They have stands for that sort of stuff. Or you can shove it in the sand, you know.”

“I wanna do something nice for you,” he interrupts, the sound of a smile in his voice as he gives you a friendly jostle. “That’s the point.” 

“You’re plenty nice, Colt.” 

And he is. He saw you were upset and he came jogging upto you valiantly, and your side-armed cuddle is really pushing the pep back into your life. You take a few deep breaths under the weight of his arm before turning to him, brave, ready to go back to work if it means he’s gonna drive you home tonight. “Thank you for caring.” You kiss his cheek, careful of the fake blood. “You’re super nice.” 

You miss the heat of him the second you stand, but there really is work to do. 

“I’m super nice?” he calls. “How nice is super? Nice enough to get another one of those, or what? Are they by the metre?” 

You bite back a smile. 

“Hello? Can you hear me?” He must catch someone’s eye. “She can’t hear me. It’s cool. We like each other.” 

Nobody saves face quite like Colt. 

[gothgoblinbabe]

hiyaa <333 just wanted to drop a Logan request here.. (pref from the ver of the x-men, 2000?) because it's always like sunshine reader this and grumpy/mean logan that (i luv them btw) but what about cool!reader. what about the reader that can and will not put the cocky shit he is on his place but keep him there??? what about the reader that tames him down, the reader that casually grabs the back of his shirt to keep him from launching himself at Scott with a deadpan face, the one that lets him bite??? the one that will literally outmatch his agressive and violent energy????? the one that grabs his wrist when his claws go out and quirks an eyebrow at him like 'really?'???? like pls we do seriously need a bit of a level-head/intermediator!reader with Logan (can be smut if u feel like it?) 🙏🙇 fem if possible <33

IM KICKING MY FEET SO HARD RN OMG, I also love grumpy Logan x sunshine reader but being w someone that matches his energy? Oh my god, that’s my shit

NSFW/18+ // This isn’t like a full oneshot ig but if you do want that with plot and stuff lmk!)

- Within the first few months of meeting each other, everyone would definitely tease Logan (and you) about how you’re like the female version of him. You don’t put up with anyone’s shit, including his. He learned that the hard way, nearly being knocked on his ass when you yanked the back of his jacket to prevent him from ripping Scott to shreds because of some stupid comment. That wasn’t a one time occurrence, either. You were the only one bold enough to actually try to put him in his place when the claws came out, going as far as to use both hands to hold his wrist in place while you glared up at him.

“Chill the fuck out, would you?”

And the first time you had the balls to actually do that, everyone else stood back in mild fear, anticipating some kind of fight between the two of you. Instead, he rolled his eyes and retracted his claws. It was an unusual influence you had over him, something about you that made him feel hypnotized.

- He’ll never admit it to another soul, but he definitely likes that you’re dominant over him at times when you have to cool him down. Grabbing his arm, pushing him back - lightly tugging at his hair if you really couldn’t get his attention. He likes when you put him in his place, get a little rough with him or talk in an angry tone.

- And because I’m a sucker for friends to lovers, I think he’d be so head over heels for you because of that. He’d try his best to be stone faced when you were stern with him, but he’d be gnawing on his bottom lip to the point of drawing blood.

- Same thing with training: If you actually manage to wrestle him down to the mat, he knows he can push you off if he really wants to, but he never does - he gets way too engrossed in staring up at you while you straddle his lap and hold his arms down.

- Though Logan wasn’t always levelheaded, he could return the favor of holding you back when you got too aggressive, wrapping his arms around the middle of your waist and pulling you back - sometimes even having to lift you off the ground and sling you over his shoulder. Truthfully, he’d let you tear someone apart if it were up to him - the assholes usually deserve it - but he knew it would be frowned upon to not stop you.

- I think when you somehow do admit your feelings - maybe you get pissed when he puts himself in danger and just tell him you love him or he does the same when he starts to become a little too jealous of anyone else hanging around near you - he’d always have his hands on you in some way. Maybe the small of your back, your hands, your wrist - anything. And the jealousy thing? Oh, forget it, he won’t even let another guy stand too close to you. He’s not toxic (maybe if you wanted him to be🫣) but very protective, he’ll let another guy talk to you if he’s gotta but his hand is in your back pocket the entire time while he stares the dude down.

- Angry sex is a regular occurrence. Are you really mad at each other? Not even close, but it doesn’t take much more than a few choice words exchanged in the hall for Logan to be dragging you into the nearest room with a lock, holding you up against the wall and drilling into you till he has to hold a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. There were definitely a handful of times you’d almost been caught, trying to babble out an excuse about being busy to whoever was behind the door while your leg was hiked over Logan’s shoulder, messily eating you out with your skirt bunched up at your waist.

- Overall I think you’d make a good pair, keeping each other in balance when one of you gets a little feral (though, let’s be honest, it’s definitely usually you having to hold him back).

Like I said if you want more of that concept or like something w plot pls lmk!! Absolutely love the idea 🫶🏻

[glossgojo]

father mayhew x fem! detective reader the long awaited part-2

picking up right where we left off with part 1 you know the drill

2.2k words

i’m a sucker for some plot with p0rn, oral!fem receiving, riding, creampie, no protection don’t be dumb wrap it up, not proofread and i fear it will be obvious, lowkey yandere /they’re both down bad

the rational part of your mind told you to hightail it out of the church after you’d both fallen back on his bed sweaty and blissful. your body wasn’t cooperating, the haze of desire had clouded the stark reality of your legs being sore and the space between them aching, still leaking onto his sheets. charlie was clearly going through some kind of turmoil himself as he covered his face with his hands, shoulder pressed against yours as you caught your breath. you cleared your throat, thinking maybe it would be better to walk very slowly out of his room and back home. as soon as you tried to sit up one of his hands found your waist, “no please don’t go.” they were still warm and rough, the bandaid on his finger reminding you of how all this started. you had gotten too caught up, losing the reason you came here in the first place. maybe now was the time to get him to talk. you turned towards him and batted your wide eyes, charlie couldn’t help but do the same, his hand traveling up and resting in the dip of your waist.

“i don’t want to intrude.” you whispered it knowing that there was no point in it, you were the only ones there and from how loud you were earlier anyone who was nearby would know what you two were up to.

“you’re not i just-“ he closed his eyes, the vision of you in his bed, duvet barely covering you or the marks he left was a test to his faith all over again.

“go on,” your voice although siren-like soothed his hesitation.

“it’s the catholic guilt.” he muttered, half confessing and half ashamed of it.

“i think god will understand, you can blame me if it helps.” you tried not to find the situation ironic, he was built like a sex god and touting the sin of premarital relations. if it helped him open up you’d be the degenerate for him.

“no i don’t think i could, you look like an angel.” he said it without flinching, your lips twitched at the corner. the situation was laughable and later you’d definitely tell lois about it over some wine.

“what does that make you? the devil?” you brushed a piece of his hair back, unruly from all your tugging and nearly unrecognizable from how it usually looked, gelled back and pristine.

“in a way, yes.” you couldn’t believe that a modern man was so archaic in his thinking.

“i disagree, there’s nothing more human than succumbing to desire, no one is perfect, you can’t expect yourself to be either.” he rolled the words around in his mind, it was a nice sentiment but he was a priest he was supposed to be devoted to god and the faith alone. not the way your eyelashes fluttered or how your ankles felt on his shoulders.

“do we not all strive for perfection?” the pout on your lips was still there, it had been since he started this conversation and he wanted to kiss it away, he shouldn’t.

“you’ll always end up disappointed.” he leaned up on his elbow, looking down at you, lifting up the duvet to cover you up more, not that it helped his current situation.

“so what do you do?” his voice sent a chill through your spine, deep and gruff, like he’d just woken up. you imagined his voice would be enough to just get you off. you blinked away the thoughts, formulating a response to the best of your ability while looking into his espresso eyes.

“whatever i want, of course i have my own morality and i try to be ‘good’ but i know i’m not perfect.” religion had never led your morality, surely in some way it shaped it without your knowing, but you did what you thought was right.

“whatever you want? what do you want?” he could think of a few things he wanted, perhaps even needed, but you were involved in all of them.

“geez what a loaded question, hmm right now a shower and a snack would be nice, in general i want to help people.” he laughed at your response finding you even more endearing than before, you were so straightforward it was jarring. you watched the corner of his eyes crinkle. “what about you?”

“i want you.” he said it without a bat of his eyes like it was the most obvious answer in the world. you weren’t so nonchalant, lips parted in a small gasp and he tried not to smile at your reaction, tried not to let it etch into his bones.

“you have me.” you said it with all the conviction you could muster, it didn’t really take much if you were being honest because in that moment it was true. your legs were covered in him and the ache between them could only be filled by him. he’d haunt you for days if not weeks. your hands found their way to cradle his jaw before you knew what you were doing, titling his head down towards you, kissing him slow and gentle, as if he was a ghost. charlie thought you tasted sweet and the way you kissed him made his heart ache faintly in his chest. he moved on top of you, kissing you with an urgency you didn’t quite feel. you let him kiss you with desperation. his hands roamed down to your legs, parting them and bringing them to the side of his hips. you didn’t know if you could handle another round even if you clenched on air when his slightly hard cock rested between your chests. charlie had other ideas anyways, kissing down your neck, somehow knowing exactly where to nip at to get you to arch into him, kissing gently over the bite marks and bruises he’d left on your chest until he was under the covers, kissing at your stomach. and when he pressed another soft kiss to your clit you swore your heartbeat had moved south.

you throbbed against him, bucking into him gently as a soft whine of his name left your lips. when he licked down your slit, cleaning up his slick mixed with yours you sucked in a breath of air. it was so messy and he didn’t seem to care at all.

“this pussy is fucking divine.” he murmured under the cover of the duvet, licking your thighs clean next, nose bumping against your opening in the process making you clench on it. he didn’t mention that you smelled sweet too, he wished he could eat you for every meal of the day.

“s-such a dirty mouth.” despite your words your legs were parting more for him, he smirked against the soft skin of your thighs, holding your thigh open with a strong hand.

“might as well use it then huh?” before you could even think of an intelligible response he was delving his tongue into you with one of his fingers, pulling out everything he could as you gave, and gave, and gave. his fingers were already long and thick you knew that but the thick wet muscle of his tongue hammering into you, curling and slurping in a craze made you gush into his mouth. you imagined he was tasting himself there mixed with your cum and you felt a tinge of jealousy. his finger managed to find the spot that had you squirting earlier, his tongue quickly following and you pushed your hand up against the headboard, running from the sensation. charlie wouldn’t have any of that, tugging you by your legs right back where he needed you, in fact closer than before. his nose bumping against your clit as he fucked you on his tongue, as if you were a toy for his pleasure. the thought made you clench even harder on his tongue eliciting a groan from him, the vibrations against your core making you gasp. he was ruthless on your poor stretched cunt and just when you felt close he was pulling his finger and tongue out, playing with your puffy folds and blowing cool air on your throbbing clit.

“charlie-“ you gasped out, feeling your eyes starting to water at the desperation you felt to come.

“father.” he corrected you, clearly it wasn’t about respect, not like megan meant. you swallowed down the spit accumulating in your mouth and with it your hesitance.

“father mayhew please do something.” your voice sounded foreign, so desperate and whiny you almost cringed at it.

“so cute,” he murmured against your clit, kissing it once before licking at it, the rough pad of his tongue igniting every nerve in your body. two of his fingers pressed at your now drooling hole and you sighed in relief. he sucked at your clit as his fingers stretched you open, you were soaking his hand thoroughly practically dropping down the length of it. charlie knew he would smell you for days and when he didn’t he’d start missing it. your eyes wrung shut as you felt your orgasm approaching, the obscene sound of your gushing and his hand smacking against your wet skin filled the air as you started to see white behind your eyelids. you came so hard you were bucking up into him, shaking and squirming in his hold and he fucked you through it, cleaning up the mess you made of yourself and then his fingers. with one last kiss to your clit he lifted himself back up the length of you, kissing your lips and swirling your tongue with his, tasting the sin.

you felt like you were on a cloud, floating in pure bliss and charlie watched the way your eyelids fluttered shut when he pulled back. he’d let you sleep, in the meantime he needed to atone. you could feel him heavy and hot between your legs, clearly hard but not making any move to address it, the thought spurred on your need for more. you were surely addicted to him. his heady musk was starting to affect, you were being drugged by him and his body. you pushed at his shoulders he looked concerned as he broke off the kiss, you pushed a little more and he seemed to get the hint, falling onto his back and bringing you with him.

you straddled him, your clit bumping his hard cock, making you wince at the overstimulation. charlie pulled you along with him as he settled with his back against the headboard, his bare chest fully on display and you trailed a hand down his abs, resting on the small tuft of hair below his belly button. you didn’t know if you could take him again, but surely at your own pace it wouldn’t be too bad. at least that’s what you thought. when you were lifting up on your knees and lining him up, you still felt the stretch from just his tip.

“fuck.” charlie was on the brink of coming just from the sight of you struggling to take him. you had been so insistent on this and then in one second all your bravado went out the door. god he could just eat you up.

“need help baby?” you nodded your head weakly and he guided your hips down and you gripped at his shoulders. once you were down halfway you started to bounce up and down, trying to adjust to the pain. he felt so much deeper like this and you swore it didn’t hurt this much before. fortunately you were still dripping down his length, which helped with the friction and you could feel his precum dripping inside you. you set your own pace, grinding and moving up and down slowly. he wasn’t even fully in but the tight hug of your pussy was enough to make his eyes roll back, there was barely any room for him inside you and every twitch of his dick felt like a shock to your system. you got a bit braver, taking more of him as you leaned against him, his head was leaned back and you didn’t like how far he was, tugging him by his hair towards your lips. and that seemed to be the limit of charlie’s patience, the sharp feeling like some kind of trigger. he was kissing you back fiercely, biting at your lip as he snapped his hips up, filling you up and making you gasp into his mouth. your hole spasmed around him and he kissed you with a bloody devotion, snapping his hips as your own hips bounced down on him, a new mind breaking rhythm that ensured your legs would go weak. you were dripping down both of your thighs now, the force of his thrusts making your ass clap against his lap and you swore you were getting air from the force of his thrusts. it made the way he filled you up even more devastating, abusing your cervix and carving you out with every beat.

when it all became too much for him, he wove a hand between you both, pressing against your clit and made you come on his cock, milking him dry as he came with a few more thrusts up into you. even after he emptied inside you earlier he was still filling you up and leaking down onto his sheets, clearly pent up.

your body fell limp against him, he ran a hand down your smooth back, soothing you while he grew soft inside you. you didn’t think you could move and he didn’t really mind if you never did. you looked so beautiful on his lap almost as if you were made to be there.

[soullumii]

this is trouble | joel miller x f!reader

part 2

summary: it's been three weeks since joel last fucked you. tonight he finally has the time.

warnings/tags: 18+ smut mdni, filth. was meant to be plotless but sort of has plot now oops. fem!afab!reader, fwb, semi-public sex, vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, secret fwb, dirty talk, bratty!reader, grumpy!reader, dom!joel, soft!joel as fucking always (i’m a romantic, what can i say?) little bit of feelings oops, some angst at the end oops, pet names, no use of y/n

word count: 4.6k-ish

a/n: couldn’t find a gif of joel stroking that damn guitar so i made one. lowkey hate this but i needed to upload something so here i hope u enjoy

so when you give that look to me,

i better look back carefully cuz this is trouble, yeah this is trouble

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

It’s been a good few weeks since you last fucked Joel.

Since this whole friends with benefits thing started between you. 

And tonight you’re kind of set on getting his dick back inside you again. Since, y’know, it’s been so long.

You’ve been craving it for a while, but tonight it’s kind of all encompassing. Kind of been the only thing on your mind since Tommy and Maria invited you out tonight. You and Joel, the latter who for the past three weeks has been busy with god knows what. 

You’re kind of pissed at him. Kind of really pissed. And your horny, pent up brain doesn’t help much with keeping your cool. 

At least you’re a few drinks in now, which has cooled your temper down some (though has spiked your libido quite a bit). Maria and Tommy are totally not picking up on your bad mood, though, thank god.

You swirl the last few dregs of wine in your glass, hardly listening to what Maria is practically shouting to you from the other side of the booth, since it’s so fucking loud in here. Your mind is caught on Joel standing at the other end of the Tipsy Bison.

You’ve been eyeing the way his hands curl around his glass of whiskey. The way his flannel stretches over his broad chest. The way his mouth moves as he talks to one of the stable hands named Harry. 

You remember the feeling of that mouth between your thighs.

Fuck, how much longer is he gonna make you wait? Another damn week?

He looks over at your table, eyes catching yours from across the room. You glare at him, trying to convey the frustration and lust and want you feel.  

His lip twitches in a smirk, seemingly having received your message. He pats Harry on the back, and then he’s sauntering back over to you and your little group of friends.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” He slides into his seat next to you in the booth. His scent of pine and sandalwood envelops you, a silent torture in and of itself. “Harold doesn’t know when to stop talkin’.”

Tommy laughs boisterously. When he’s had one too many drinks, he’s impossibly loud. “Man, I remember when he kept me at the greenhouse for an hour talkin’ about some bullshit.”

“He's a good guy. Just likes to talk." Maria glances at the radio perched in the corner, a new song playing through the speakers sprinkled throughout the bar. “Oh I love this song! Let’s go dance!”

Joel looks over at you, and you’re still kind of out of it, eyes fixated on the way the sleeves of his flannel are rolled up above his forearms, showing off the veins that snake across his skin, the muscles that shift with each drum of his fingers on the table top.

You’re not in any condition to dance at the moment, and Joel is certainly aware of it.

“I think we’ll stay here,” he says. “Y’all go enjoy yourselves.”

“Suit yourself.” Maria drags Tommy out to the dance floor, leaving you and Joel at this little booth tucked in the corner all by yourselves. 

Alone. 

In the dark. 

And you’re drunk. Joel, probably on his way there.

This is not going to end well. Or maybe it will. For you, at least. Just…not for any poor suckers who might stumble across whatever is about to take place. 

Joel lazes in his seat, casually stretching an arm over the back of the booth, pressing in close to you.

“Howdy,” he says.

“Hi,” you say.

“…You doin’ alright?” There’s a hint of amusement in his voice rather than any real concern, and you know he knows exactly what’s wrong with you.

“I’m fine,” you respond coolly.

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“I’m havin’ some trouble believin’ that, since you’re poutin’ like crazy right now, sweetheart.”

“I am not pouting-“

He laughs, full on fucking laughs at you. “Uh yeah, ya are. You’re actin’ like a lil brat. Givin’ me those goddamn eyes from across the room.” 

“Eyes? What eyes?”

His voice dips into something dangerously low, only for you to hear. “The ones practically beggin’ me to eat your pussy. Those ones.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Joel!” you hiss, turning your head to hide your embarrassment. You drain the rest of your drink and immediately wish you had more. Or some water, at least, to cool down the warmth settling high in your cheeks. 

“That’s what you want, ain’t it?” 

“I don’t fucking know. Are you actually going to do it? Or are you just gonna leave me high and dry again?”

He sighs heavily, his fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose and why is he the frustrated one here?

You’ve gone three fucking weeks without his dick in you! After he and you made a deal! You should be mad. Not him!

But maybe…maybe that’s just it. Maybe he isn’t fucking you because he just doesn’t want to anymore. And that, scarily enough, makes your chest ache and your eyes get all teary and wow you are so drunk right now. 

“Listen—“ he starts.

“Don’t make a promise you can’t keep, Joel,” you snap, folding your napkin into little squares to distract yourself from how upset you are. 

He pulls back, and you think he might just get up and leave you to stew angrily again. You could afford to throw yourself another pity party. There’s a bunch more napkins on this table that need folding.

He doesn’t leave, though. Instead, his hand settles warm on your thigh. Your fingers stall around the napkin. 

“I know I’ve been busy, but I intend to keep my promise this time,” he says softly, his hand squeezing your bare flesh, your sundress already having ridden up your thigh. “Don’t think you’ve been the only one cravin’ this.” 

His hand caresses down your inner thigh until his palm is cupping you through your panties, his knuckles brushing over your clothed entrance, and you’re grateful that the booth is angled the way it is, that you’re tucked on the inside, because it makes it a lot harder for anyone to see what he’s doing.

And it makes it a lot easier for you to give into it.

Your legs fall open, providing him more access to where you’re slick and ready for him, your knee pressing into his jean-clad thigh.

“Mm, there we go,” he smirks, stroking you through the fabric, and a tiny whimper escapes you. He leans in, his warm breath ghosting over your ear when he murmurs, “You’re such a drama queen when you’re horny.” 

Motherfucker…

Okay, yes. You can be a bit dramatic. But it’s not only your body that’s horny for him…your heart is kind of horny too. Joel is your best friend and to not see or talk to your best friend for three weeks is practically torture, especially when they’ve been giving you the good dicking down that you deserve. You have a right to be dramatic. 

You send him a scathing glare but it melts the moment his fingers pull your panties to the side and slip beneath the fabric.

You’re wet as hell. You know it. He knows it. But you’re still mad at him, and kind of drunk, so…

“Don’t you say fucking shit.”

“I wasn’t goin’ to.”

It’s a damn lie. He loves commenting on how wet you get for him. While it’s a bit humiliating for you, it only boosts his ego. Like hell he needs an ego boost, though.

His finger lightly swipes up your folds, and he bites down on his lip to try and hide the arrogant grin on his face at the way you thrust your hips forward needily with a breathy pant, but he’s failing. It’s practically impossible for The Joel Miller not to make things about himself.

“How often did you touch yourself thinkin’ about me while I was gone?”

Case in point. 

“Hmm…I don’t think I ever did.”

He circles the pad of his finger around your entrance, and stares you down with dark eyes, looking straight through your core, his voice dipping into something sultry and ragged and downright criminal. “You’re such a damn liar.” 

You feel like you might melt into the faux leather booth. Your thighs are already sticking to it, why not just become part of it at this point?

He slowly sinks his finger inside you, his thumb stroking your outer lips as he does so, and you’re boneless against the cushioned back of the booth.

“I’ll be honest for the both of us. Practically came to the thought of you every night,” he mumbles against your ear and lightly bites your earlobe. “Was thinkin’ ‘bout how much I missed you… ‘bout your body… ‘bout this perfect pussy.” He emphasizes each word with a pulse of his thick finger inside you. 

You shudder, your body lighting up at the thought of him lying in his bed, his hand closed around his cock as he came with a moan of your name on his lips. 

“Why didn’t you just come see me?” You huff, choking on a breath when he crooks his finger inside you, stroking your walls.

“Too much was goin’ on. Maria had me on patrol every morning, then I had guard duty to watch the folks that just left town. I wanted to see you, but I didn’t have enough time. You know I like takin’ my time with you, sweetheart.”

His excuse is valid enough, and he really does like taking his time with you. Content to just plant himself between your legs for hours to coax you through orgasm after orgasm. Or fuck you slow and deep, pulling back just when you’re on the crest to watch you squirm before he builds you up again, over and over until you’re practically screaming at him to let you cum. 

Still…he couldn’t have stopped by once to explain his situation? 

He slides in another finger, and you vaguely register that the song Maria and Tommy sauntered out to the dance floor to is coming to an end and another is starting in its place. They’ll be back soon.

“We can’t do this here,” you hiss, attempting to pull his hand out from under your panties, but it’s half hearted. You don’t want him to stop.

But he pulls back anyway, “If that’s what you want.”

It’s sweet, it’s considerate.. But he’s a damn jerk, because he knows how long you’ve been waiting for this. He knows you want him to keep going. Especially judging by the way he’s looking at you, eyes dark and hooded, the corner of wicked his lips twisting up…

He just wants you to fucking say it.

“Joel…” you grumble.

“What? You change your mind?”

Your fingers curl around his hand, tugging it down again, pressing it up against your throbbing core. That’s gotta be answer enough.

He’s not having it. “C’mon baby. Use your words…”

You scowl at him, muttering, “Don’t stop.”

“Speak up, sweetheart. Can’t hear ya. It’s loud in here.” 

Ughhhh! “Please touch me, Joel. Please don’t stop.”

He smirks. “As you wish.” 

Princess Bride reference. Cute. Makes your heart flop a little in your chest.

Joel eases his fingers back inside you agonizingly slow. He strokes the pads of his fingers inside you. A tingle unfurls in your chest, starts in your toes and spreads up your calves, and a low moan tumbles from your lips.

Thankfully, from anyone passing by, it would look like you two are just deep in a private conversation. Joel, pressed against you, leaning in close, and you, shielded from view by his broad shoulders, listening intently to whatever he’s saying.

They just don’t know that he’s breaking you down, brick by brick. That he’s making you leak all over this fucking booth. That it’s pure filth he’s muttering in your ear and not a juicy secret.

“God, you look so pretty takin’ my fingers, like you were made for 'em. Such a good girl."

“Joel, oh my god…”

Your breaths are coming out hotter, heavier, especially when Joel’s fingers slip out only to glide up through your folds to run delicious patterns over your clit.

“Fuck…” You whimper, the heat in your lap pooling thick and abundant. Your hips chase after his fingers, grinding against his hand.

You’re dangerously close.

“That feel good, baby…?” He eggs you on, his voice a rough rumble of thunder against your ear. 

It’s embarrassing how quickly, how enthusiastically you’re nodding, and Joel slips his fingers back inside you, his thumb coming down to rub circles on your clit as he fucks his digits up and into you.

The music is loud, but beneath it, you can hear the wet sounds of your pussy as Joel takes you apart, stroke by stroke, a steady metronome. 

You grasp onto his forearm desperately, your nails digging into the muscles there with a gasp of his name. “Joel-“

Shit. You’re seriously going to cum in this shitty little moth-eaten booth in the only bar in this entire town. You won’t be able to live it down. But you can’t bring yourself to care–you’re close, on the precipice, and you meet Joel’s dark, dangerous eyes, urging you to cum on his hand with a C’mon baby, you can do it, give it to me and you might, it’s right there it’s—

“…-ere did you learn to do that?”

The unexpected sound of Tommy’s voice has you frantically ripping Joel’s hand out from beneath your dress and scrabbling for a napkin to wipe up the mess on your thighs, on the fucking booth, your orgasm rearing back angrily and setting into a dull buzz in your limbs.

The wicked man beside you scoots himself further under the booth, likely to hide the hard-on he’s sporting. He wipes his hand on his thigh. You think you can hear him grumbling angrily under his breath at the interruption, but you’re not sure, ears instead trained on the sound of your friends getting closer. 

You reach for the drink menu, pretending to read it.

“I took dance classes in my free time before the outbreak,” Maria says as the couple closes back in on the booth you and Joel were totally not defiling. She shimmies at the both of you. “You guys really missed out on some of my great moves while you were moping.”

“We weren’t moping,” Joel defends.

“Sure…” Maria drawls.

If she only knew.

“I’m just not really feeling well,” you say. 

Maria’s playful grin falls into a look of concern. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just tired. Need to go lay down, I think. It’s been a long day.”

“Let me walk you home,” Joel says, grabbing his coat he had slung over the booth and strategically positioning it over his pants when he stands.

“Thanks.”

“Feel better!” Tommy says, and you give him a grateful nod as Joel’s hand settles on the small of your back and he steers you out of the stuffy bar and into the cool summer night.

Katydids sing in the dark as you and Joel stroll down the street to your house tucked at the end of the cul-de-sac. Fireflies light the asphalt. An owl hoots overhead. 

“You really feelin' bad?” He asks quietly, once you’ve reached your front porch. 

"No. I just wanted to get out of there."

He hums. "Are you still mad at me?"

“I dunno.” Not really. You’re just pissed you were interrupted. Still, he needs to feel some remorse for his radio silence, so you don’t elaborate.

“I’m sorry,” he says sincerely as you unlock your door. “Really I am. There’s no excuse. I should’a made the time to at least tell you what was goin’ on. I’m sorry.” 

You open your door and pause in the warm light from the foyer. “You can make it up to me by fucking me.” 

“As good as that sounds, I wanna make sure you’re okay. Tell me what’s wrong.”

You sigh. Ugh. Usually Joel’s fine with pushing things to the side. Bottling things up. He does it a lot. You sort of wish he would just drop it right now. You don't want to deal with the weird feeling in your chest that's been here all night. But he’s looking at you, waiting.

"I just thought...Maybe you were done with this. With me."

He frowns. “Hell no. I like what we have. I don’t want it to stop anytime soon." He steps forward, wraps his arms around your waist to pull you in.

"Me too..." You murmur, hands drifting up his back, pressing him in close for a hug. "I'm glad you're safe."

He chuckles. “Course I'm safe. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno," you say into his shoulder. "I just worry about you.”

"Yeah? You worry 'bout me a lot?"

You pinch his stomach playfully. "You're my best friend. Of course I do."

He pulls away a bit, huffs a tiny laugh. But it's not like his usual laughs. It's forced. Quiet. "Right."

You're a little too drunk to ask about it, and still horny enough to want to get things back on track, so you look into his dark eyes, smiling coyly, lip tucked between your teeth as you roll your hips into him. "Now that I forgive you…think you can fuck me now? Cuz it’s been way too fucking long.”

He groans softly, yes ma'am, and presses his lips against yours.

Okay, yes, he’s your friend but you also kind of kiss sometimes.

You tug him inside the house and shut the door, your mouth still latched to his. The moment the door snicks into the frame, he’s got you pressed against it, his hand rucking up your dress to bunch it around your hips while his tongue dips into your mouth.

You swiftly unbutton his flannel, sliding it down his arms. Your hands find his chest, fingernails scraping over his pecs, through his dark chest hair that thins out the further south it goes, but thickens again into a happy trail that disappears below his waistband.

Fuck, he’s so…

His fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties, a repeat of earlier, and you break the kiss to drop your head against the door with a thump when his fingers find your clit again.

“Jesus, you’re so wet.”

…And there he goes.

“Three fucking weeks, Joel,” you bite, though the end of his name melts into a moan when his fingers sink inside you again. 

“Didn’t know you were keepin’ count.” 

“Fuck—“ He quirks a finger. “S-shut up.”

He huffs out an amused chuckle into your cheek, trailing kisses from your jaw down your throat. His teeth sink in, and his mouth suctions over your skin, delivering a beautiful little mark on your flesh that he kisses gently after. It drives you fucking crazy.

“I’ll shut up if you let me taste you,” he mumbles against your skin, his voice vibrating pleasantly through you.

Your pussy pulses around his fingers, your clit honest to god throbbing against his palm, and now he knows you really want him to eat you out, especially when you follow up with an enthusiastic nod.

Joel slips his hand out from beneath your panties to lift you up around his hips and carry you to your bedroom. He plops you on the edge of your mattress and immediately sinks to his knees on the floor, eye level with your cunt.

“God, been thinkin’ about you for weeks. Missed this pussy so goddamn much,” he says, leaning in to kiss your inner thigh.

His lips trail down your leg as he pulls your panties off and stuffs them into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Let’s see how good I did,” he says, pulling your legs apart to get a good look at what a mess he’s made of you. He hums appreciatively at the sight of your glistening folds, licking his lips. That enough has you clenching around nothing, fingers tightening in the bed covers. 

“You seein’ what I do to you? No one else can make you this wet, ain’t that right?”

“You’re such an arrogant ass,” you growl.

He just smirks as he lowers himself again between your legs. He puffs a breath of cool air along your slit before listing over to kiss your other inner thigh, grinning when you groan in frustration.

“Joel, please.”

“So impatient.”

“I’ve waited thr—“

“Three weeks, yeah I know.”

He presses forward to lick a hot stripe up your folds with the flat of his tongue, and your hand flies to his hair, anchoring him closer to your pussy.

“S-shit,” you whimper. 

He lightly drags a finger along your slit, the slight pressure fucking agonizing. 

“Joel.” You sort of want to scream at him. He’s been teasing you all fucking night. 

“Alright,” he laughs and allows you to guide his head back down until the bridge of his scarred nose is pressed into your folds and his tongue is prodding at your entrance. 

He takes his sweet time unraveling you, alternating between licking into you and sucking your sensitive clit into his mouth. You can’t say much, reduced to wordless cries with each movement of his mouth. 

It’s messy, sloppy, but you like it. You like seeing the wetness on his face when he pulls back for air. You like the way his hair is pulled in all different directions, all because of your greedy hands. You like the way he has to push one of his hands down to palm himself in his jeans, just to relieve some of that pressure.

He clearly loves eating you out. And you very much love that he loves it.

But you’re getting kind of desperate. Kind of really want to cum. So…

Your hips begin to grind against his face as he sucks on your clit, and he seems to receive the message because he slides two thick fingers into you and starts to eat you out in earnest, delighting with a low moan when your legs clench around his head, the scruffy hairs of his beard tickling your inner thighs. 

“Holy shit, Joel.”

“Mm—“ He moans.

Your foot keeps slipping off the bed, so Joel’s large, warm hand curls around your calves to situate your legs over his shoulders. This new position grants you more leverage to chase after your orgasm with steady rolls of your hips into his hungry mouth.

He sucks your clit as he thrusts his fingers into you at a brutal pace, hitting your g-spot that has you jerking against him with each stroke. His hand plants on your abdomen to hold you down, stilling your desperate movements.

You’re getting close, the pressure building and magnifying as Joel moans against your pussy, the vibrations driving you insane.

“Fuck, Joel—hah-“

“Mm.”

“Jesus, Joel—fuck—oh my—hnhh—”

“Mhm.” He encourages.

It shatters in you, white hot and falling over you, a waterfall of warmth. Your body straightens stiff as a board, back arching off the bed, quivering as you cum against Joel’s mouth, your slick running down his chin and catching in his beard.

You try to push him away, your orgasm overwhelming on its own, but Joel hates it when you do that, wants to make sure you really feel it, so he presses himself back in to lick and guide you through it. Drawing it out.

It has your head falling back, eyes rolling into your skull, mouth dropping open on a satisfied moan. 

He only gives you a short amount of time to recover while he pulls his jeans and briefs off. You tug your sundress over your head. And then he’s rising up to meet you again, scooting you back until your head almost brushes the headboard. He sinks his thick cock into you as he presses his lips against yours, muffling your surprised and needy moan.

And then he reaches up, his large hand gripping the headboard as your legs wrap around his waist, and then he’s fucking you in earnest, each snap of his hips sheathing his cock fully inside you in a desperate rhythm.

And all you can do is lay there and take it and fall apart.

“S-shit, baby,” he grunts. “That’s it.”

“Oh God…” You whine. 

Your hands scrabble for purchase on his back, your blunt nails scratching up his sun-freckled skin, feeling the muscles bunch and shift as he holds the thumping headboard steady, his knuckles turning white as he grips it. His other hand finds its spot next to your head, holding himself up as he obliterates your pussy. 

He prepared you well for him, but you’re still stretched so full, the breaths knocked from your lungs with each thrust of his cock into you. His pelvic bone brushes your clit with the roll of his hips, the uneven pressure dragging you closer and closer to that metaphoric cliff.

And his moans certainly help, too. He’s not quiet, between strings of praises are ragged moans and tiny whimpers. It only turns you on more.

“Fuck, Joel, can’t leave me without this again.”

“Trust me baby,” he groans. “Another damn week and I wouldn’t’ve survived.”

His hand releases the headboard, slides down to tangle in your hair. He tugs your head back, and molds your lips to his. Teeth nipping your bottom lip before his tongue dives into your mouth. You moan appreciatively.

You can hardly breathe, but god it’s perfect. This moment is so fucking perfect. You want to take a picture of it. Frame it on your damn wall. 

You’re sure it looks like he’s fucking eating you right now, but you like it. You want him to consume you. Want him to be yours… Want to be his.

Stop. He’s your best friend.

He pulls back to lick a stripe from the corner of your lips along your jaw before sucking marks and kisses down your throat, his hips still thrusting into you steadily. His hand squeezes your breast, rolls your nipple between his index and thumb.

“Oh…oh—“ God… 

“You close baby girl?”

“Fuck, ye-yes… Yes need you…”

“N-need me to help you cum?”

He’s losing it. You’re losing it. Fuck please!

“Please, Joel—“

He pulls back enough to watch you, lips pink and puffy and kissed the fuck out. His eyes drift to where he’s thrusting inside you, dick slick with your arousal, sheathing itself inside you with wet, fucking nasty sounds.

“God, you're perfect. So fuckin' perfect...” 

His hand drifts down and you tremble, brows screwing together as his thumb fiddles with your clit.

White hot arousal pools in your core, unrelenting. Unstoppable. You feel like a damn metamorphic rock. Becoming something new under all this heat and pressure. 

It crests, crashing, filling your insides with hot magma as your mouth drops open on a silent scream, eyes squeezing shut as your pussy clamps down on Joel’s cock repeatedly.

He follows right behind you, painting your insides with thick, hot cum, leaking out of your entrance over his cock and down your ass cheeks.

You hiss when he pulls out, feeling empty. He gathers the cum that leaked out with his thumb and pushes it back into your quivering hole. 

“So goddamn pretty…” he murmurs. “Look so pretty with my cum inside you…”

Friends. You’re friends. 

So why the hell does this feel like so much more? Why is it that you’re so turned on by him practically claiming you?

You’re still trying to catch your breath when he lays down beside you, brushing your hair out of your sweaty face. “Feel better now? Not so mad anymore?”

“Mhm,” you hum happily.

He leans in, presses his lips against yours softer, slower…meaningfully. You kiss him back, tugging him close. His arm snakes around your waist, tugging you into him. You're pretty sure normal friends with benefits don't do this. But you and Joel have never been normal.

In those long three weeks you had started to worry maybe he'd never come back. It fucking scared you. Now, you're unsure you ever want to let go.

When he pulls back his eyebrows are furrowed, lips drawn in a frown. He looks concerned. "What's wrong?"

"What?"

"You're cryin'..." He wipes your teary eyes with his thumb.

Fuck fuck fuck.

You scramble to wipe your eyes, sniff. Smile at him. Reassure. Act normal. "Oh, no-I'm fine. Just... think I'm still drunk."

"Somethin' going on? You looked like you were gonna cry back at the Bison, too. Did I do somethin'?"

You shake your head, squeeze his arm. "No, of course not. I'm just being weird. Tired, I think.”

"You sure?"

"Mhm.”

"You can tell me anythin’, y'know?"

What? Like I think I'm in love with you? Fat chance.

"I know. Everything's fine."

You’re such a damn liar.

He can see right through you, but he lets it go. "Okay. If you're sure." He leans in to press a kiss to your jaw. Friend. Friend friend friend. "I'd love to stay but I gotta go. Ellie's probably wonderin' where I'm at."

Joel sits up, swings his legs over the edge and stands. Grabs his jeans, pulls them up. His belt buckle jangles as he slides it through the loops.

“I really did miss you, by the way,” he says, looking down at you. “You. Not just the sex.”

His words warm your cool, exposed body. Fuel the burning the realization, I love you. “I missed you, too.”

He turns to leave, and you see the fabric poking out of his back pocket.

"You still have my panties."

He smirks. "Guess you'll hav'ta come over to get them back."

You smile back, blushing. “Looking forward to it.”

He leans down to kiss your head, "Night, angel."

"Night," you say faintly.

Only when your front door slams shut do you allow yourself to give into the fantasies. To imagine what it’d be like to call him yours. To not keep things a secret. To tell people you're together. To be his.

Damnit, you’re in trouble.

[bodyelectr1c]

plaything

austin doesn’t let the reader finish until he wants her to

literally no plot, just smut

warnings: orgasm denial, teasing, oral (f receiving), degradation, edging, a little overstim, implied age gap, possessive austin, daddy kink

this is my first time writing, it’s so nasty but kind of hot. i’m a sucker for an older guy, so i picture a sexy age gap. anyways, enjoy!

austin hadn’t let you off easily, forbidding you from touching yourself while simultaneously leaving you unfinished and begging, writhing; a string of desperate whines and pleas leaving your throat. it was clear to you he didn’t care for your pleasure, he just wanted to get himself off. you were nothing more than a fuckdoll to him. he’d no shame in pulling you by your hair- no matter when; no matter where, dragging you to the nearest bathroom, shed, closet, whatever- and fucking you senseless

“fuck- you’re such a slut baby,”

“your cunt is so fucking tight, just for me”

“you’re-fuck, gonna be the death of me..”

he cooed ‘affectionate’ remarks at you in between progressively sloppier thrusts- if they could even be labelled affectionate. you regarded it as love on his part, you both know you enjoyed being degraded, and he knew you’d do anything to make daddy cum.

sometimes, whilst jackhammering into your pussy, he’d lazily reach down and thumb at your untouched clit in circular motions, occasionally dipping his hand down to where you both connected, attempting to fit one of his thick fingers in alongside. he did this just to hear you scream his name, and he’d stop as soon as he felt his climax nearing.

it was habitual, his hips would begin to stutter, his moans would get more desperate- louder and lower, his degrading remarks would descend into a string of pet names, his eyes fluttering closed as he groaned. “babybabybaby”

and then it was over, he’d pull out with a desperately hot groan, his cum painting every part of your body as he’d collapse onto the bed, his larger frame dipping the mattress next to you. you’d scream his name to no avail, trying to chase the high that he brought you near, but never cared to complete. your own hand darted down to your throbbing clit, rubbing desperate and fast circles around the sensitive nerves before they were met with a sharp slap on austin’s behalf, and then an absence of any sensation. he’d pull your hands away from your clit, puffy and leaking.

“you cum, when i make you cum, i don’t fuck college whores who get off on anyone’s fingers but mine.” he’d growl, pulling your thighs apart after you’d began rubbing them together in an attempt at any friction, his words turning you on impossibly more; you felt like you could cum untouched, coaxed by more of his dirty, perverted requests. you let him know, too, babbling incoherent sentences and grabbing onto his toned arms, repeating over and over again to just “let me cum daddy, i’ll be good i promise, fuck- pleasepleaseplease austin”

to your dismay, he’d almost always get up off the bed, watching you writhing and twitching from your previous proximity to your orgasm, and spit out:

“you’re so desperate it’s pathetic,”

before walking away to take a scathing hot shower, leaving you sensitive, but obedient enough to never touch yourself in the hopes that he’d come back and please you to completion.

in those blissful moments where he’d come back from the bathroom after an excruciatingly long time, finding pleasure in the confidence that you’d wait for him to make you cum, he’d hover his tall frame over you, watching attentively, towel loosely hanging on his hips, v line completely visible above the thin cloth, hair still wet as an aftermath of his shower. he’d let out a gruff and low laugh at how much of you whore you were being, fucked out without being allowed to cum. he found it comical, and a fucking sexy sight to see. his girl, spread out just for him, obedient and desperate to please him in any way you could. he got hard again just thinking about it.

he’d lower himself between your thighs, much to your relief as you let out a pleasured sigh, letting your head fall back against the bed as his stubble brushed your clit alongside his nose, teasing you one last time, evoking a sharp twitch in your abdomen, before he brought his tongue out to swirl around your sensitive cunt. your desperation to get off overcame you, you couldn’t help but lose your fingers in his damp hair whilst pulling his head down to force him onto your clit. he didn’t stop you, instead alternating between sucking your clit- hard, as if to signal that he was still in charge, and swirling his tongue around your pleasure soaked pussy, focusing his attention on one sensitive spot that made you whine louder and higher.

hearing you express your immense pleasure was a profession of devotion for him, and it turned him on profusely, causing him to moan around your cunt, sending vibrations around you that fluttered around your walls. his sucking and teasing was becoming too much for you, and he didn’t give you a second to rest, pulling you back toward him with a tight grip on your hips every time you tried to lift yourself in an attempt to catch your breath. he knew you could take it.

you felt your climax nearing you as you began to convulse, closing your thighs around his head, his still damp hair tickling your legs as he sucked harder and harder, also aware of how close you were due to the incessant chant of unholy curses and moans left your body. it was sinful, truly, his chin already soaked with the anticipation of your climax, mixed with the noises you made as he lost himself in between your legs.

“daddy, i’m so close, please let me cum, please let me cum, fuck!” you begged as he looked up from his task at hand, mouth never leaving your swollen clit, icy blue eyes focused on the pornographic sight before him, basking in it.

your climax washed over you as you let out a last scream of his name, pushing his head back down as you bucked your hips sloppily against his face, allowing yourself to release, the warm knot in your stomach untying itself as your eyes rolled back into your head.

as you lay there, panting, coming down from your intense high, austin outlined your clit in slow circular motions with his fingers to coax you through your comedown, making you twitch under the aftermath of the stimulation, bucking your hips up again slightly before letting go of all the tension in your muscles and collapsing farther back into the mattress, hands still intertwined in his now messy hair as he moved to lie next to you, using the white sheets to clean the remainder of your juices off his face before turning to face you where you lay, breathless

“fuck baby, that- was hot.”

[assumptionprime]

I need to rant about the Fallout show

Because this is the person I am. Full spoilers, so I’m putting it behind a Keep Reading:

I’m a huge sucker for Fallout (yes even 3&4). And I went into the Fallout show with some… trepidation. Amazon has been a mixed bag on adaptations, we could have been blessed with a Good Omens, or cursed by a Rings of Power. But early buzz and reviews seemed positive, so I slammed the whole thing in one night with my spouse (we were staying at my in-laws house and they have Prime. Time was a factor.)

And y’know? I was really enjoying it! The characters were fun, the plot was engaging enough, and the costumes and visual design were extremely on point. There were some minor lore quibbles to be had: Ghouls needing some kind of medicine to not go feral. Really, more Enclave holdouts? Timeline and date whoopsies. Wait are they in California? Where the hell is the NCR?

I made a face at Shady Sands being bombed and the NCR collapsing. But I wasn’t completely out of the story. Based on what I had seen so far, I thought it was building to a reveal that the Brotherhood had done it. That the more zealous turn they took in Fallout 4, which has clearly carried to how they are portrayed in the show, lead them to bombing the NCR. War never changes, as they say. Maximus even says when asked what happened to Shady Sands: “The same thing that always happens.” Yeah, it leans into Bethesda’s weird desire to keep the Fallout world in a state of perpetual wastelands full of raiders and no civilization, but it wasn’t so terrible that I couldn’t still enjoy the show.

But then.

BUT THEN.

Episode 8, and the reveal of Vault-Tec apparently being the ones who dropped the first bomb in the Great War.

I was surprised to hear that some fans have apparently been debating over who fired first? Some even asked Tim Cain about it?

That’s really odd to me because, in the games, there is already a pretty definitive answer to which side sparked the Great War:

Who fucking cares?

The world ended. What does it matter who shot first?

There is no China, no United States, no communists or capitalists left to fight about it. 

It's a powerful little bit of lore.

For all the posturing, all the promises from each nation that their way is the true way, all the nationalism, the militarism, and blind loyalty to flags over humanity, they both lost. Everyone lost. All that remains of the ideologies and nations that were so important to the people of 2077 is faint echoes over vast expanses of radioactive ash.

Who started the end?

No one knows. No one cares.

It only matters that their conflict was so bitter, so all-consuming, that one of them dropped their bombs, and the other dropped theirs in return.

The truest legacy of the old world is the devastation left by their final, most horrific war.

Can we do better?

Then the show says "Nah, Vault-Tec did it. It's not a commentary on human nature and the futility of self-destructive conflict, it was actually these guys, these mustache twirling villains huddled in a darkened room literally plotting to end the whole world so they can rule what's left."

And I can see the attempt to make this a critique of capitalism. I actually paused the show to praise a bit of writing when Coop is talking with Charlie before the war, when Charlie tells him that the “cattle ranchers are in charge” to illustrate how capitalism and corporations hold too much sway over the government, it felt very in line with how in New Vegas one of the recurring critiques of the NCR is that all the real power is in the hands of the “brahmin barons.” Nice parallel, spot on!

But “we’ll set off total thermonuclear war so we can rule the ashes and have a True Monopoly” isn’t capitalism. It’s just dumb “we’re the baddies” writing.

And then Shady Sands was also Vault-Tec?! Forget any meaning in the NCR falling to the same corruption and/or factional fighting that consumed the old world, they were literally just bombed by the evil shadow conspiracy that apparently also killed the old world. Hank gives this speech about factions fighting and the futility of it all while we see the Brotherhood fighting Moldaver’s NCR remnant, and like, no! You can’t say that when you’ve made it so neither the old world or the NCR fell to war with another faction! It was you! You and your band of cryogenic supervillains!

I don't care that they changed it. Timelines and dates and little retcons don’t bother me all that much. I care that they changed it to something so much worse.

[koi-illust]

[StarWars][BobaDin][LukeDin]

Sons (of BobaDin & LukeDin)

I'm in the middle of the Inktober challenge (posting on my IG story if you're interested). Sorry for the wait for my new artwork if anyone's been waiting...🫣

Anyway, inspired by my fellow artist, I decided to draw the offspring of Boba/Din and Luke/Din. I'm having a hard time now determining which pair is my OTP, so I decided they're both my OTP and drew the sons of both pairs in the same piece.

These two baby boys can exist in the same universe or not, depending on what plot you prefer. However, I have a somewhat unethical feeling that these two could make a good couple if they're not half-brothers... (Yeah, I know in some stories, they can be a couple if you don't mind the ethical issues).

I borrowed the clothing from kid Boba and Padawan but blended in "red," which comes from the traditional colors of Din's birth country, Aq Vetina.

The son of BobaDin

has Boba & Din's curls, Boba's eyebrows & lips (and probably the height, though it's hard to tell at his age), and Din's eyes & nose. He always carries a vibro-knife with him, began training at a very young age, and wants to be a great warrior like his fathers. He’s kind of grumpy but has a soft heart and is very protective of Din (who gave birth to him) and his green brother. He often looks reluctant to play with Grogu because he wants to spend most of his time training, but Grogu knows, just like everybody else, that he loves playing with his brother and cares deeply for his family!

The son of LukeDin

also has curls from Din (yes, because I love curls! Din is also the one who gave birth to him, as you all know I'm a huge sucker for bottom Din). He has Luke's hair color, eyes, nose, chin, and Force abilities, as well as Din's eyebrows, eye color, lips, and probably height. He has a playful mind, so he has no problem playing and causing mayhem together with Grogu. He has a strong Force connection like Luke, but unlike Grogu, who is prone to becoming a Mandalorian, he wants to be a Jedi under Luke's training. Although he appears confident and relaxed, he’s quite insecure about his abilities due to having two famous dads, he faces a lot of pressure others can't understand.

About how they refer to their fathers

Since Boba and Din are both Mandalorians, it can be confusing for calling them both "Buir." In my research, "Papa" is a term of endearment for "father" in Spanish and since Pedro is a Latino, so...

It's relatively easy for LukeDin's son to call his fathers: Din is "Buir," and Luke is "Dad." "Dad" has a more casual vibe, which I think suits his personality.

Okay, that's it! Hope you enjoy my boys, and sorry for babbling again. The last thing is that I have another question for you:

Yeah, I know there’s a BIG ISSUE in there, which is why I’m asking. I’m curious about what people think about such a thing, feel free to discuss with me, no judgment here no matter what your answer is!

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - Lesbians WIN & I'm excited about a Thai BL again!

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

April 2024 Wk 4

Ongoing Series - Thai

My Stand-In (Thai Fri iQIYI) ep 1 of 12 eps - Adaptation of Chinese novel Professional Body Double by Shui Qiang Cheng. Stars Up (Lovely Writer) and Poom (Bake Me Please) directed by the same team as KP (not a recommendation IMHO - my biggest criticism of KP was the clashing directing styles). The MDL description made it sound complicated af but actually it's not so bad. In fact it's GOOD.

Stuntman Joe dies on the job and wakes up in the body of another Joe who has an entirely different life. But our Joe just gets his new body right back into his old existence, full of friends, enemies, and one troublesome ex. Poom is absolutely killing it in the lead. Mek is perfectly cast as the Actor du Jerk. I’m not sold on Up’s bratty brokenhearted rich kid... yet. The show though, I like it. I like a one (two) night stand starting things off and I like a lot of morally gray characters. Fun fun!

Deep Night (Thurs iQiyi) ep 8fin - The lesbian moms are the cutest thing in the world and my favorite thing this week. Bar none.

Summation:

It's about a host club and all the gay boys in it and some stuff that's not important because... PEOPLE OF EARTH WE HAVE A HONEST REP OF POLY IN A BL. Stand up and raise your hands in prayer to the Thai BL gods because sure as shit no one else was ever going to give this to us. For that alone this show gets 8/10 from me. Bonus Lesbian moms and great kisses.

Two Worlds (Thurs iQIYI) ep 7 of 10 - Say what you want about MaxNat all these years that they've been paired makes them great onscreen boyfriends. And you know me, I'm a total sucker for linguistic negotiation. Makes my heart go all mushy. That said, now that the leads are together, I’m really uninterested in all the drama around the ex-boyfriend/triangle. I'm glad this is only 10 eps.

1000 Years Old (Thurs iQIYI) ep 11 of 12 - They gave me the tiniest teaser for the kinky vampire BL that I have wanted my whole life. And now I'm just fucking annoyed with the rest of the show. 

We Are (Weds iQIYI) ep 3-4 of 16 - Q & Toey are the only interesting thing going on. I actually didn’t like this pair in My School President, but I’m enjoying them here. The others are all fine but these two have my heart. I have questions like: did Phum ever get his shopping bags back? And why is Phum driving a different colored car half way through the ep?

Only Boo! (Sun YouTube) ep 3 of 12 - The quality is good (it’s GMMTV) but the acting is... not. Still I loved that Moo just made the confession for both of them. Very in character. Does this plot remind anyone else of Footloose? Just me? Side couple was cute but now a bit too stalker for me. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Unknown (Taiwan Tues YouTube & Viki) ep 10 of 12 - It’s fantastic. Such a great show. We are so lucky. This is basically Taiwan’s The Eights Sense. I didn’t know they had it in them, but I’m really glad that they did.

Living With Him AKA Kare no Iru Seikatsu (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 3 of 10 - As JBL’s go this is way more my speed (than Alaska). It’s just so sweet and awkward but charming about it. The confession was so earnest. 

Blue Boys (Korea YouTube) 2 of ? No MDL link - It’s very sexy this one. Not sure what Korea thinks it's doing, but I’m not mad about it. 

Gray Shelter (Korea Thurs iQIYI) ep 5fin - summation: About a slacker nursing a crush on the (brief) older stepbrother who abandoned him. Upon finding him again he moves in with him, upends the mans lost suffering life. A dark gritty piece with confusing subs making it too chewy to really grok. It's trying to do too much for its length. The tension is real and the acting is good, it's just everything else stymied clean execution of the core concept. Frankly I spent this show expecting (and wanting them) to just fall into bed together - in a kind of desperate fight sex. It didn’t happen, and I’m disappointed by the non-ending we got. (Whether it’s going to have more in the series or not.) 7/10 I'm open to changing the rank if a part two fixes this one's flaws.

Boys Be Brave AKA Roommates (Korea Thurs Viki) ep 1-2 of 8 - Oh dear. Terrible hair. Jock nerd pairing. OCD baby cakes. Cohabitation trope. Killer side couple. Def unhinged. 

At 25:00 in Alaska AKA 25 Ji Akasaka de (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 2 of 10 - I’m still genuinely not sure about this one. It’s just a little too awkward for me in the wrong way. I expect all Japanese BL to have a certain aura of awkwardness so I don’t know what it is about this one turnign me off. I do enjoy that we’re getting both stories, the one between the actors, and a little bit of the roles that they’re playing on screen but... yeah

Love is like a Cat (Korea Mon Viki) eps 7-8 of 12 - The leads finally had a moment but there is negative chemistry. Why am I watching this? 

It's airing but...

Lady Boy Friends (Thai WeTV grey) 16 eps - reminds me a bit too much of Diary of Tootsies only high school. Not my thing. DNF unless it turns a corner and is truly amazing.

Memory in the Letter (Thai WeTV) - 6 eps, when it's done, tell me if I should bother?

In case you missed it

Kiseki Chapter 2 (Sun iQIYI) 6 eps - finished its run but I won't be finishing it. Stays dropped.

GMMTV announced the second half of their 2024 line up. I got excited and picked my favorites, details + trailers here. Basically my ranking is:

The Heart Killers

ThamePo

Revamp

Sweet Tooth

Perfect 10 Liners

The Ex-Morning

Ossan’s Love Thailand

Next Week Looks Like This:

What happened?

Knock-Knock Boys (Thai WeTV) - 4 college friends conspire to help their friend lose his virginity. Familiar faces like Seng (yes, Billy's previous pairing) and Best, news here. But will it actually air this month?

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENT

I have adopted him. He is MINE. I love him, your honor. (The Stand In)

I love them SO MUCH. (Deep Night)

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire

If ya wanna be tagged each week leave a comment and I will add you to the template. Easy peesy.

[aloysiavirgata]

Loved your Skinner POV. I am the ultimate sucker for a Margaret Scully POV. Do one? *doe eyes*

Cancer. How can it be cancer, how can Fox already have been at the hospital, how can they plot and whisper and conspire; how can Dana have cancer?

Margaret is so angry and so afraid. So, so angry.

Terrified.

She has the wild, insane thought that Dana is too beautiful to have cancer, as though Melissa hadn’t been too beautiful to be casually murdered.

Fox looming and lurking in hallways and corners and sunsets and pre-dawn stillness. Like a grim guardian angel, like the beautiful statue of Lucifer Bill once took her to see at Liège.

Margaret sees Fox kiss her daughter’s bright hair one night, kiss her daughter’s sad, smiling mouth.

She doesn’t know what she wants for them. She crosses herself and walks away.

***

She doesn’t understand the situation with Emily, not really. She listens to everything Dana says about induced hyperovulation and surrogates and she nodded, dutiful, because she can hear Dana’s throat so tight, trying not to cry.

Emily is very sick, Dana says. The courts have no precedence for this, Dana says. I want to help her, Mom.

If Emily is Dana’s, if she really is, then she’s Margaret’s granddaughter and Margaret, to her shame, doesn’t want her to be.

Fox stands in the corner of the room, staring out the window at nothing, his jaw hard as stone. He radiates a quiet steadiness and Margaret feels her strange, lovely daughter draw strength from it, like a solar panel on a bright day. Are there lunar panels? Mulder’s eyes are nothing like the sun.

He radiates a cold fury and Margaret almost has pity for the target of it.

“When I was abducted by Duane Barry,” Dana begins, her voice mostly steady. “Wherever he took me had some kind of program where-“

Fox slams his fist into the windowframe and Margaret jumps, gasps. “Fox!”

“Mulder…” Dana breathes, her eyes closed.

He stalks from the room like a panther. Like an assassin.

***

“I’m pregnant,” Dana says, a little blushing laugh. Her hand splays over her flat belly.

Margaret surges with such piercing love for this incomprehensible child she birthed. “Oh honey,” she breathes.

Dana drops her head to the side, cheek to shoulder. “I’m so tired already,” she confesses. “I don’t know how you had four with Daddy away.”

She reaches for her daughter’s slim fingers. “I wanted five. Eight, if we could have. Three miscarriages after Charlie and then….” she is appalled at herself. “Dana, I’m so-“

Dana squeezes her mother’s hand. “Miscarriages aren’t some kind of thought virus, Mom.”

Margaret squeezes her hand back. “I know, I know. It just feels like bad luck. And Fox, will he be….?”

Dana looks up, a flush high in her cheeks. “Why are you bringing Mulder up?”

Margaret rolls her eyes. ““I’m a Vatican I Catholic, Dana. Not an idiot.”

Her daughter has the grace to look away. “He wants me to marry him,” she murmurs.

Margaret loves Fox. She loves him the way people love barn cats and funny cock-eared dogs and every pied beauty. But all of a sudden it’s Fox at Thanksgiving, Fox properly at Christmas this time. Uncle Fox, wedding-anniversary Fox, Fox calling her…what? Mom? Surely not Mrs. Scully still.

Margaret knows her children have done the math on her oldest son’s birthday, that he was mighty hefty for a “preemie.” She knows her latest grandchild deserves to be born in wedlock, she knows every Catholic from Father McCue back to Saint Peter would be absolutely appalled with her.

“Be sure of what you want,” she says to the chestnut tree just past the living room window. To Saint Mary Magdalene, to all repentant sinners.

***

William, six. William clever and tall for his age and gingerbread-colored like his father, with his mother’s round lapis eyes. Fiona, four, happily squirting colored water into a large plastic bin of shaving cream. The twins - Silas and Clara- are nearly three and getting bathed in the sink by their father. Dana, a tenured professor, lolling on the couch. Dana pregnant with number five.

Dana yawns like a cat over some tedious medical journal. Dana ever rail-thin since her cancer. Dana still looking depleted of essential nutrients. Phosphorus? Zinc?

But Dana is still a doctor, so Margaret is silent.

“Are you all right?” Margaret asks her irritable daughter. She beams at Clara, absurdly chubby, with her Aunt Melissa’s coppery curls. Clara with her plump hands like little stars. Silas, rosy and dark-haired, howls in general indignation. Silas with his father’s fairy-forest eyes and impossible lashes. Silas who loves to pat his grandmother’s cheeks.

“Mother I’m FINE,” Dana sighs. “Sy, hush. It’s only warm water.”

Margaret watches her son-in-law for a time, watches his long hands and his furrowed brow as the twins laugh and splash and protest in the deep farmhouse sink. Her Bill could never have done what Fox does.

“Loretta Lynn said she stopped having babies when they started coming in pairs,” Fox observes, sluicing water over his anguished twins. Clara laments pitifully. Silas has a broken air about him, weary as his mother.

Dana laughs, sweet as communion wine. “Stop knocking me up, then,” she grins, hand over her enormous belly.

“Not until you marry me,” Fox replies, thumbing Silas’s fat cheek. Kissing his darkly curled head.

Fiona on the carpet, giggling as William makes farting sounds in his armpits. Fiona with the blackest hair and the bluest eyes and the most perfectly sprinkled freckles like her Uncle Charlie.

William like a wood-elf, so tall and bright.

Dana laughs again. “No priest would ever, would they, Mom?”

Margaret, exhausted and happy, sighs at the pair of them.

In the oven, turkey tetrazzini from the Thanksgiving leftovers. Potty-training sticker charts on the fridge. Will’s perfect math homework, Fee’s wobbly I LOV YU!! above a careful crayon drawing of her family.

Margaret could have never predicted this, could never have seen Fox in sweats and baking Texas Sheet Cake for the PTA. Fox staying home and juggling nap schedules so that Dana could tell anecdotes about maggots to her adoring students.

Fox has a blog, which is Quite The Thing nowadays. Fox is a bestselling author. He’s made the talk show circuit and the girls from bunko send her newspaper clippings.

Fox towels off his exhausted babies. He diapers them, dresses them in fleecy pajamas. They look at him with enormous, reproachful eyes. They pout.

Margaret holds her arms out, draws them in when they toddle over.

The babies nestle, nuzzle, make sweet baby sounds as the sink drains away. Their little mouths pop open, lashes curled on their flawless cheeks. She’s never expected Dana, of all of her children, to be living this life. Cold, prickly, distant Dana with her lunatic partner and her brain cancer and her dead little girl.

“There are infinite infinities,” William tells Fiona. “But some infinities are larger than others.”

[moonshynecybin]

Hi, new to motogp and i’m a sucker for friends to enemies to lovers and relationships drama and pain so obviously i love marc/vale, i am also think marc is fascinating, but I haven’t found much info detailed info vale’s smear campaign against him/his media savvyness/his entire personality, like i think i grasp the bare bones but, are there any tumblr essay that are required reading to you? Also any good posts about this arm injury (aside for the documentary that i will be watching this weekend)

i love arm. ummmm his documentary is pretty much the story. like the central conceit/plot of the whole damn thing is to chart this latest operation on the injury he sustained in jerez 2020 its GONNA give you most of the information on that. now, that being said. marc is a liar sometimes, so i'm gonna try and gather some resources that might give a better idea on where his arm is NOW, because its something he kind of contradicts himself about !

simon patterson interview with The Race podcast: shockingly candid tbh. i think lil homie was having a bit of a crisis. standing on the edge of a cliff facing down possibly the end of his career. what if the move to gresini sucks ass kinda moment. couching his chances this year pretty aggressively. he ALSO says some stuff about how fucked up his arm still is that hes since tried to mildly walk back cuz hes funny. anyways because im insane i transcribed it:

SP: Did you have to switch teams this season? Did you have to change to something that gave you more of a chance to win after the last few years after how difficult everything has been? MM: Yeah, of course if I change teams its because it was something that I need. And yeah, of course it was a risky movement, but at the same time it was a movement thinking on my career, not on results in a short time. Its like thinking if I have the motivation, if I’m competitive again. You know, I had— three years ago, four years ago I had a very big injury, a hard injury in the arm. And yeah, now its working well, but still is not— I mean its the arm that you open four times. If you ask to a doctor, of course its performing in a good way, but its not the same arm. But I have many question marks inside my head. So, the best way to answer to myself is— do what I want. And yeah, its a risky movement. Why? Because the comfortable movement is to stay where I was, with my people, with my friends, with a big salary, the project. But I decided to jump to a new project and at the moment we will see if I can answer the many questions that I have. SP: It sounds like the reason you did it, the questions you have to answer are all for yourself. It's not about– MM: No, no no no– it's just for me. Because for me— I say many times in my interviews— if I don't feel competitive– and competitive doesn't mean win or win, it means be in that top five top six, and yeah five four podiums, five four victories. Win a championship is super difficult. And especially it becomes more and more difficult when the years are passing and the younger [people] are coming. So the life is the life and every athlete has his moment, and then step by step it goes down. But yeah I need to feel again competitive to continue with my career.  Especially these last four years, has been, I mean– has been a nightmare, but is like it has passed super quick. The other years I was competing. I mean in the last four years I’ve completed half the championship, because I had many injuries, so now I need to find this stability, this pace. To start to create again a good base to fight for some races to the top positions— this is my intention. But to fight for the championship? This is something that still I’m not ready for. SP: You said that you learned a lot, during all of this. Is there things that have made you better? Are there things that youre gonna come back now with like new skills because of the experience? MM: No. I will not be better than before. Because– Yeah, maybe I have more experience, but before I was 100% in physical condition, and I was fresh. People say ‘No, he will come back stronger.’ When you have an injury, of course it's— injury is an injury. When you have an injury like two, three years, you lose the rhythm, you lose the feeling sometimes. And then it's super difficult to repeat all those things. But especially because your body— I mean they say the body is super smart, it can adapt. The body is super smart to adapt to new things, but it also is smart to remember what’s going on there. So yeah. I will be different, maybe— but not better.

theres also this similar quote from jan 2023:

theres also this recent statement from mat oxley talking about his arm and his sort of. show no weakness when it can be used against you philosophy

SO. following with that observation. he's started also kinda. being more noncommittal and vague in interviews/presscons now that he senses blood in the water. show no weakness expose no underbelly type stuff. so theres this in preseason which is actually around the same time as the patterson interview where he's still couching it a bit but hes also very adamant that his arm is working:

and then the BIG change comes around mugello this year, when he was fishing HARD for that ducati 2025 seat and changed his tune uh. QUITE a bit:

finally just some posts psychoanalyzing his ass about arm/injury, MOST of which are fairly recent. here, here, here, here, here, and here. ive also aggregated some recs for content good for learning about him in general here! go with god

[passionwillow]

Bobby Nash - Random Headcanons

Hi again! Here’s another little blurb for Bobby cause I can’t get enough. 🩷

Warnings: Some smut, mostly fluff.

—————————————————————————

- Whatever you’re interested in, this man is researching to talk to you about. It wouldn’t matter if he likes it or not, he wants to be able to converse with you! A TV show, movie, music, a hobby. You’ll be talking about how much you like something and he’s pulling out facts and info about it.

- He secretly loves yard work. Mowing the grass, planting and weeding, work on the house. It makes him feel helpful! And it’s almost a stress reliever. You’ll come home to new plants in the yard, some flowers on the table, new mulch in the plant bed. He loves it even more if you join him. He craves that domestic feel.

- Kind of along the same line, he loves doing laundry. The smell of clean clothes, fresh sheets is soothing. He’ll throw on a movie or show and go to town.

- I’ve mentioned this is another post, but I’ll get into more detail here: bubble baths. This man LOVES a good bath. You’d come home from work and the tub is already being filled, bubbles are forming and he has candles lit in the bathroom. The lights are dimmed. The mood is set and he can’t wait to just sit and relax with you. He’s propped up with you laying back against his chest, and he’s happy to sit in silence or chat about your day.

- Bath time tends to lead to more between the two of you, more often than not. You’ll be trying to discuss your day, a coworker that annoyed you, and suddenly you feel his kisses move along your neck, his warmth breath tickling your skin as his rough, calloused hands move along your thighs.

- You start to stutter and completely forget your story, eyes closing as your head falls back to his shoulder, but he won’t have that.

- “Keep going, baby, I’m listening”

- You try to finish your story but a hands already between your legs, gliding between your folds and teasing your clit. That sweet, familiar smirk is plastered to his face as he curls his fingers inside you, bringing you to the edge in a familiar ease.

(Oof had too much fun with that one 🙂‍↔️)

- Those murder mystery cases you can have delivered to your house?? He’s most definitely subscribed to get a new one each month and LOVES going through it with you. He loves a good mystery to solve and you two would stay up all night snacking and trying to get to the bottom of it.

- He loves having game night with you and the 118. Charades, Uno, whatever, he has a blast with it. Watching you and Buck fight (jokingly) over the rules and who the winner is never fails to make him smile.

- Secretly a sucker for soap operas. You come home from the grocery store and he’s on the couch, totally engrossed in the plot.

- “Babe.. what are you watching?”

- “Hold on- hold on, hun, we’re about to find out who Michael’s real parents are!”

- I just really love Bobby Nash. 🩷

—————————————————————————

I hope you guys enjoy ☺️

[buckets-and-trees]

Hehe I’m here with a dare 😏

So I’m such a sucker for angst but with a happy ending - I’d love to hear how you would go about writing a forced proximity meets the one that got away fic, from what I’ve read of your writing I feel like you’d really do those tropes justice

Alright, Em... let me stretch my fingers and get ready for this one...

I THOUGHT about this.

Ari Levinson

Modern AU - college and then mid-to-late-30s Ari

We're going to call this... er... maybe an "imagine-novella"? It kind of ended up being a 2500-word plot exploration. No content warnings, only some language.

You meet Ari in college. He’s tall and toned and tanned, always in a baseball cap unless forced otherwise, and he’s already sporting a full beard and looking good with it. He’s a couple of years older because he worked out of high school before for a couple of years - long enough to put enough away to pay for tuition without being a burden on his parents. When you meet him, it's when there's the huge club rush out on the quad your junior year. It's in the middle of campus in the first weeks of the semester so everyone does wander through by the nature of when and where it is. You see the table for the radio station on campus. Truthfully you don't even notice him at first. You're standing twenty feet away looking at the sign and thinking about whether or not it's worth it, maybe shake things up, you love music - you're that friend always making the playlists, discovering new songs and bands, dying to go to big music festivals, etc, and your campus has a radio station...

Someone else was talking to him as he's running that table, and they leave and then he sees you standing there, and, "Hey! You!"

It jolts you out of your thoughts and you're caught off guard for just a half a second, and go, "Me?"

He grins, "Yeah, you."

Your feet move before you even really think about it because ... that's just what you do when people call you over. It’s an instant crush for you but you try and reign it in, because he's excited that you're actually interested in the station, and you genuinely are excited about it. He's a Journalism and Communications major and the station manager, and so he gives you the pitch to come to an info meeting they're going to have, he'd love to see you there.

And you do go. Because... it doesn't matter that he's cute. The more you keep thinking about it, you decide it would actually be fun. You get a show, you make a lot of new friends with the other station people - some of them are total nerds, but they're all fun or nice or a little bit irreverent, and so station meetings once a month are fun. You're a good DJ. You have fun with your shows. Ari takes note - he appreciates it. The station is his baby. He puts everything into it. He's not outgoing, even though he's charismatic, but he can't help but gravitate to the people who really fucking love it like him. You don't get to know him super well that first year, but when it's time for him to appoint new directors to run the station the next year, he pulls you aside and says he loves what you've done with your show and wants you to think about applying for a director position.

You do. It's going to be your last year of college, the DJ gig hasn't been work, it's just been fun, and ... you love being part of the team, love to work on exciting projects, dig your hands into the dirt and make something great, so yeah. You throw your hat in the ring, because why not? And it could be an extra thing to go on your grad school applications.

Ari not only picks you for the team, he actually ends up picking you to be the director of programming, his number two, the one who oversees the DJs and putting together the roster for shows each semester. And that's what launches everything to a new level.

You lock down DJs that you want to come back the next fall, you both go away for the summer, but now you're texting somewhat regularly about ideas for the next year, things you'll work on, and the real working friendship develops. When fall semester starts and it's full speed on the ground, you and the team of directors really work to make the station great, but it's A LOT of you and Ari.

And to say he becomes one of your best friends senior year? Maybe. You tread that line because there's still that part of your heart that crushes on him, but the part that loves doing everything station and music and working on this big beast together? That's big. You let that be the focus. Because it's fun. And he's fun. And he's brilliant (like you, which is why he likes you) and ambitious (like you) and he's got this great, rich laugh that you get to hear a lot. And a lot of your other friends are busy with their senior years, too, and so are you, and so you don't mind any of the time you spend working on the station with Ari and the other directors and the DJs who are just this pack of a couple dozen people who come and go. But a lot of you and Ari.

And he doesn't date anyone. Not the entire time you know him. You heard/thought maybe there were some hook ups he indulged in during your junior year, but not that year before you both graduate. He clearly doesn't have time for a girlfriend and doesn't love anything more than the station, but you do think - just a little bit - just in the back of your head sometimes - that maybe you don't hear about him with anyone this year because... he's not going to date you - that would be unprofessional for you two and the station - but maybe it's because you are close. And maybe as you get closer to the end of the year... maybe he's going to make a move. He's always said he's already a confirmed old bachelor, but the way he smiles at you, the way he values your opinion, how often he says how amazing you are and how he appreciates you... you're going to be the girl who finally gets him.

But time is running out. And even though you both pour your hearts into the station together, there are never any late nights (those are given to studying, passing classes, etc). The last month, he says stuff like he's never going to see any of you again. Jokingly. You all laugh as directors because how could he mean it? He's made you all a family.

He makes more comments like that in the last weeks and days, and when he says he's going to shut down all of his social media, because he only had it to run and promote the station, you call him on his bullshit. And he says no. He's serious. He's going to go into journalistic photography, and he's going to create the network he needs where he needs it, but he's not playing the PR games to do it - the dream is wild nature photography, work in remote locations, never talk to humans again if he can help it. And it's so stupid. You tell Ari he's being ridiculous. He can't want to live so far off the grid.

"I'm sorry," he says, kindly but matter-of-factly. "But when we graduate, I'm never talking to any of you ever again."

You scoff. But this conversation is now just you and him in the station on a Saturday afternoon. But then you look at him for a half a second and really see his face. And you think he means it. "Ari, I did not give my fucking heart and soul into this station for the last year as your friend for you to never talk to me again. You at least owe me a lunch five years from now."

He smiles. "Okay. Maybe in five years. You find me in five years and I promise I'll take you to lunch."

And you graduate a week later, and he says goodbye, and you're not sad about it. Maybe just a bit wistful for what might have been. But after that specific "five years" conversation, you realize it was only you who was maybe a bit foolishly hopeful. He'd really never led you on. You never told him you had a crush (you had tried to keep it professional, because you did genuinely love the friendship) and he'd never given you or anyone else any illusion that he was there for anything other than working on the station and that bonding and camaraderie. If he had led you on, if there had been late nights, maybe you would've been hurt. But aside from being secretly hopeful, there really wasn't much harm done by your pining. But maybe in five years, you'll look him up for that lunch he agreed to.

He does fall off the gridl You take a busy summer job and then a paid internship in the fall, and you try and track him a bit, but you do just… get busy and move forward. You think of Ari a lot, but less and less as the time goes on. You know the name of the newspaper he was going to start off with right after graduation, and although he got rid of social media, he did have a beautiful website he set up for his photography. And you check that once in a while, but less and less. You get a fulltime job after the internship, and your life becomes even more full with the things that aren’t Ari, and sometimes you think about him, but most times you don’t.

When that five years rolls around, you start to think of him more again.

But you let it come and go.

You didn’t necessarily feel like you were living your best life, and if you were going to get one lunch to win over the one who got away and make him realize you were the love of his life… maybe you’d feel a little better – a little more accomplished, go to the gym more, be really something – in ten years.

Fleeting thought in ten years. Though you do think of him when you realize it’s that ten year mark. And you just kind of smile because ten years ago you was so wildly for him, and five years ago you was still a touch foolishly hopeful, and wouldn’t it be something if you did look him up now? But you really don’t need to anymore.

Then a couple of years later, you move to a new place, and without ever even trying, who else should somehow be living two doors down from you but Ari fucking Levinson?

And he sees you first. He’s just gotten home, opened the door from the garage into the house to be reunited with his good girl – a beautiful golden retriever who’s waited for him all day, walked with her trotting along at his side out to his mailbox, and looks down the street to see who’s just sending off the movers out of curiosity for who’s moving into the neighborhood, and he does a fucking double take because it’s you.

His god damn jaw drops and he laughs and then calls out your name.

You turn, hardly believing it but knowing that voice anywhere, and you laugh and shake your head. “Ari Levinson?”

You push the messy hair from the long day’s work of moving out of your face and are glad you’re not besotted for this man anymore, even if he does look like even more of an Adonis now, because you do know you look a mess, but you don’t even care. Having moved out of state for this dream job, you couldn’t be any more happy just to have someone from your past right at your new home base.

“’Of all the gin joints in all the towns in the world!’”

He meets you halfway, and he pauses a beat away from you because he’s not a hugger, but somehow there’s just this draw to hug you, and so he does. Only surprising to you for a second, but you’re so tired and it’s been a good day but a long day, and you were excited for this move, but you can’t deny a familiar face just feels good, so you melt into him just for the comfort of it for a moment. It’s just nice.

And when you pull back, the obedient but attentive dog draws your attention, lighting your face up with a beautiful grin. “Can I pet your dog?!”

But the two of you are already drawn to each other and bonding before he gets the, “Sure, of course,” out of his mouth.

He doesn’t wear those old baseball caps every day anymore, so he pushes his hand through his hair, and that move has practically made women drop their panties for him over the years, but you don’t even notice, too busy showering affection on his sweet golden girl while the two of you exchange the kind of words two of the oldest friends do when they haven’t seen each other in ages. Why is his chest so tight and warm all at once. Why does he have the thought cross his mind that you showing up here feels like home? Why are you falling in love with his dog and not with him? Wait, why did he think that?

This feels like a slippery slope.

But maybe he doesn’t fucking care.

When he is back inside his house, starting to pull something from the fridge to heat up for dinner, he remembers that he promised you a dinner.

It’s later than you two made the deal for, but… he’ll start there.

Just old friends who are new neighbors.

That night when he’s plugging his phone in to charge before bed, he remembers that he never did get rid of your contact in his phone. You might have the same number.

What he doesn’t know is that when he left the harbor, sure, you waited with that boat hopefully for a bit, but then you finally took your ship and sailed – everywhere really – and you may be eager to fall happily in love with his dog and genuinely grateful to know you’ll have someone in your corner on this new adventure, but you want nothing more than that good friendship in your life. He was one of your greatest friends all those years ago. But you finally got over that pining crush, and here’s no way you’ll be foolish enough to fall for him again, nor do you want to. You couldn’t ask for more than to have your old friend as your new neighbor, with his gorgeous golden retriever.

Ari does text you that night… just a welcome to the neighborhood again, and that he thinks he owes you a dinner, if he remembers correctly (he does, he’s just being casually clever), so he’s gotta take you out tomorrow night.

And it is still the same number, but you fell into the blissful rest of your bed, exhausted after move in day, so you don’t even see it that night. It will wait until you get to it in the morning.

Just like Ari will have to wait for what he wants. And work to try to even bring you around again.

Will he have waited too long and you’ll be the one who got away?

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[yellowraincoat]

Which Locked Tomb book you like best actually says a lot about you. (you can trust me, I’m an expert in pseudoscience)

If you like Gideon the Ninth most:

You read to have a good time/for humor

You like to watch the gay men women fight

You’re a sucker for a tragedy

One of your favorite character archetypes is the humble hero

You either correctly understand that Gideon Nav is the best character or relate too much to her to believe that

You came for the gothic vibes or necromancy vibes and stayed for the gays

If you like Harrow the Ninth most:

You read to feel a little clever

There’s a 90% chance your IQ is higher than mine

You’re known to like characters who could be considered frustrating, or even unbearable (@ mercymorn and ianthe)

You like puzzles and you will stick out large periods of confusion for the joy of solving.

You probably annotate your books (if you don’t it’s because you believe writing in books is sacrilegious)

You’re a sucker for a dramatic reveal

If you like Nona the Ninth most:

You read to feel loved

You’re a slut for the found family trope

You don’t necessarily like to solve puzzles, but you love the feeling of it all coming together

Thank God someone [God] is finally talking about Earth and this society’s relationship to it because you like ur fantasy a tiny bit grounded in reality

You believe in the power of radical kindness

You enjoy an element of whimsy to your grim imperialist capitalist dystopia (you would also prefer if it was interspersed with cow facts)

Edits (that no one asked for)

You don’t like Harrow because you’re autistic, we’re all autistic (well, actually, I’m adhd but that’s beside the point). TLT is strictly for the neurodivergents and gays

The harrow fans have asserted that many of them are dumb and proud. I’m sorry for assuming otherwise. Love that for you guys

Other valid reasons for liking Harrow best include: an enjoyment of body horror, a love of overly convoluted plots made with your frienemy to save the dead girl and the entombed girl you love

[clueless-fan-critic]

Agatha All Along: the Magical Sequel to WandaVision

So…I’m pretty late to the bandwagon, but I finally got fully through the entire series.

And I loved it!!!! The lore, the atmosphere, the characters, everything fell perfectly into place. After finally finishing and rewatching the show, it has become my top favorite show along side WandaVision. I'm always a sucker for anything with witches, spells, deities, and other mythological elements. I've been a big fan of the Scarlet Witch, both in the comics and Elizabeth Olsen's stellar performance. But enough praise, let me explain what this show has in store.

Agatha All Along is the sequel series to WandaVision that follows Agatha Harkness, previously trapped in Wanda's spell, on a journey beyond Westview. And onto the Witches Road with a makeshift coven on her side.

With all that out of the way, I will examine the finer details full of spoilers and dramatic twists that are much better if you go into the show blind. Now, Down the Road We Go!!!

Down the Witches Road...

The Witches Road is the main setting for all the major conflict in the show with a magical MacGuffin playing a role for each of the witches. As they progress, each character fulfills their own desires by overcoming the trials: Jennifer Kale learns to be a witch without her powers, Alice Wu-Gulliver overcomes her family curse, and Lilia Calderu embraces life despite her upcoming death. However, there were hiccups along the way with Sharon Davis's death, Agatha confronting her mother's ghost, and Rio Vidal's reveal as Mistress Death. But the major twist is that... The Witches Road never existed in the first place and Agatha made up the Ballad to lure witches for her to absorb. And Teen, later Billy Maximoff/Kaplan, made it real in a way like Wanda's Hex.

What I could tell was that each trial played a role in a character's journey, magic, and an element they represent: Jennifer as potions and water, Alice as protection and fire, Agatha as spirit, Lilia as divination and air, and Rio/Death as earth. The trials were more or less reflections of the characters in essence like Alice's trial related to music and Agatha's trial was more about what she has become and is. In the end, many of the characters got what they wanted from the road ironically since Agatha only gathered the coven to gain more power for herself.

Witchcraft is a huge staple in this show that embraces the more mysterious and spiritual sides of magic. Making it distinct from Sorcery by the Masters of Mystic Arts which looks more like the Avatar's Bending Arts if anything. It gives us a different way of seeing magic used by actual witches with spells and potions and even riding broomsticks.

Although we don't really know why, I think Agatha's magic draining power is a "mutation" that makes her incapable of creating her own magic and instead steals it from others. We also don't get any clues to how she got the Darkhold, just a rumor about her giving up her son for it. Maybe someone gave it to her and manipulated her into seeking out Wanda by promises of giving her power or resurrecting her son. Those were the only plot holes that kind of bothered me in the end, but aren't important... yet.

One by One We Carry On...

All the actors portray their characters flawlessly, but I did not expect Agatha to remain the same evil character throughout til the end. I thought they would pull some sort of "Zuko" scenario in a short period. But no, they keep the same but more sympathetic and relatable. Agatha goes from an evil witch killer to a grieving mother who's also a witch killer. Despite falling in love with Death, Agatha still lost her child Nicholas Scratch and still continued building the legend of the Witches Road to pursue more power. While it doesn't justify her actions, we get a bit of an understanding into why she does what she does.

While Billy is a great character, I didn't feel he had those "Epic Epiphany" moments like with Lilia completing the Divination trial and her final showdown with the Salem Seven. I still think he'll go to that point in some other project but he does grow into a stronger character from his experiences.

One of the witches who stood out the most is Lilia Calderu. The strongest episode is Death's Hand In Mine where she takes center stage as the main character. Lilia was characterized in a very strong way where she's definitely not a Mary Sue who wins because it happens. We see how Lilia experiences time randomly and how much she struggles to live with it. She uses her Divination powers to outsmart the Salem Seven in one badass move, but ultimately sacrificing herself while finally reclaiming her power.

The only thing I felt was unnecessary were the Salem Seven. They only play the role as an obstacle rather than a major antagonist like Mistress Death.

Now that we finally know who Rio is, it makes sense with how she drops bread crumbs in her scenes including her arrival on the Witches Road, the Ouija board's message, and even how she talks with Agatha about their history.

The casting and dialogue feels both organic to the actors and technically skilled in how they include previous characters from other shows like Sharon Davis and Ralph Bohner/Randall. All without being forced or contrived, it feels necessary for Westview to become the place where magic goes awry.

With where the series end, I really want to know how they can top or connect this to the next saga.

What Lies Ahead...

With the overloaded schedule of upcoming MCU projects, sudden hiatuses, and crazy leaks, we can only hope for some definitive answer to how plot holes are filled in. Will we get the resurrected Tommy Maximoff/Shepard meeting White Vision? How did Agatha get the Darkhold before Westview? Is Billy going to become a Young Avenger with his codename Wiccan? And will we get a sorcerers vs witches battle? All completely up in the air and slowly driving fans psychotic with anticipation.

With that said, Agatha All Along is more than enough to keep us satiated with amazing performances, alluring settings and designs, and intriguing witch mythos. I am hoping for more witches and magic being incorporated into the MCU and having writers learn that a character doesn't need to be redeemed into a hero so long as they are compelling to relate to.

Now, What Will You Find Down The Road?

[warmasf]

I'd love to see any kind of A and B story where one of them keeps excessively stifling whilst the other tries to get them to stop 🙏 I'm such a sucker for stifles honestly it's bad lmao 😭 you can do whatever you want with the rest of the plot and causes for sneezing, I just love imagining my favourite characters in place of A and B ❤️

Here you go! I got a little carried away…but hopefully this is at least similar to what you envisioned!

They sniffle intermittently, more to keep the congestion gated deep in their sinuses than to clear it from their nose. They rub their nose, cough lightly into their shoulder, and blink heavily more and more each minute.

“Hey, B, you doing alright?” A asks distantly, noticing their shifting in the leather seats, sticking and unsticking their sweaty skin.

B looks up and clears their throat. “Yeah, I’m just really tired, can’t wait to get into a real bed,” they respond, not fully lying. They do really wish they could get into bed and sleep this off. They curl in on themself slightly and rub their nose on their wrist. The itch is intensifying deep in their sinuses, and they really don’t want to sneeze, because that would shift the congestion into their nose, causing it to run and clog endlessly.

When the itch is too much, they hold their wrist taught under their nose and let out a stifled “n’gxt,” making little sound besides a small squeak. They sniff, which sounds more like a low gurgle because of how deep their congestion is, but their nose doesn’t run, not yet. They sneeze again, a nearly silent “ng’ish,” this time contained by their finger and thumb, pinching the tip of their nose.

A snaps back into focus, shooting a glance at their seat partner, who is now red-nosed and bleary eyed. B sneezes again, the same squeaky, congested, pinched stifle. A bats their hand away from their much abused nose. B presses their fingers onto their cheekbones and winces.

“Stop it with that, it’s gonna give you a headache,” chastises A, reaching to grab B a tissue from the center console.

“I already have a headache,” they reply, gearing up for another sneeze.

“n’gsh, “a’nghx, he-n’xsh, heh-“

Teetering on the edge of another stifled sneeze, they feel the congestion loosen in their sinuses and drip into their nostrils. At this realization, they also feel a firm hand on their arm, pulling their grasp away from their nose.

“Hey, you’ve gotta stop with that, you’re just gonna sneeze more. Just let it out so maybe we can get out of sinus infection territory, okay?” Coaxes A, still restraining B’s hand as their eyes water and their nostrils flare in anticipation. Finally, the rush of the trickle of mucus in their nostrils and their admitted potential sinus infection is too much to restrain, and they bend into their opposite elbow, mouth dropped open.

“Ha-ESHiew, Ha-PSHiew, Ah’TISHew” they sneeze wetly and loudly, coating their inner sleeve. They blearily look up at A, eyes begging for anything to clean themselves up with.

“Bless you bless you,” they respond in surprise, never having heard B let out anything but restrained, uncomfortable sounding stifles. They hand B a tissue and wait for the sound of their now productive blow. B pants and lets themself sink into the seat once again, with their breaths coming out much less labored than before.

“Now didn’t that feel better?”