#do you.. do you like a fleabag reference..

[skamyak]

I think i got asthenia after drawing it (alt ver under the cut!)

[icewindandboringhorror]

I have a big google doc thing where I keep track of media and stuff (putting everything in loosely ranked categories), which is mostly just for my own reference so I know what tv shows I've already seen before, etc. and I never really look back through it, typically just a quick "okay, watched two movie in the past 8 months, need to quickly slap them somewhere in the lists. okay. done. save document. exit". But today I was actually reading through some of the old notes and there are like... MULTIPLE places where my comment is basically "It would have been good if it were about elves" or "I wish there was a fantasy show made in this same style" or "It's well made, but I just keep thinking about how I would like it more if everyone was an elf or was in old 1700s costumes" or etc like...... lol.... Most biased media ranking system on earth blatantly made by someone with an extremely hyperspecific range of narrow interests. It'd be like if a food reviewer only had 5 foods they actually liked, so they'd just go to a pizza place and be like "eh, the pizza was okay, but I just think it would be better if it was cereal instead. :/ ...2 out of 10"

[farfromstrange]

I Want To Fuck A Priest | Matt Murdock x AFAB!Reader

PART 6 of The Vault

See this post for more information on my Valentine's Day Special & Follower Celebration, but these fics can be read separately!

Pairing: Matt Murdock x AFAB!Reader

Summary: You have a thing for the priest you met at a farmer's market. Thankfully, he has a thing for you, too.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), porn without much plot, Priest!Matt, blasphemy (!!!), church setting, improper use of a priest's collar, improper use of a confessional booth, improper use of the act of confession, praise, prayer, oral afab!receiving, slight Dom!Matt, Catholic guilt, Fleabag reference, seriously if you are religious or triggered by the improper use of religion DO NOT read this!

Word Count: 2.8k

A/n: This is for those who watched Fleabag and then saw all the 'Imagine Matt as a priest' and 'Charlie Cox once played a Spanish priest' posts and thought, "Same!" when Fleabag said, "I want to fuck a priest." I see you, and I feel you. I wrote this after re-watching Fleabag one night, but I added a little poetic twist while editing because before, it was just completely plotless oral sex. While that isn't bad, I needed to add some vibes. You're welcome.

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.

The church bells ring as the clock strikes midnight. The night sky is void of dark clouds. In the darkness above the massive walls encasing the holy ground, the stars shine brighter than the city lights. New York City, the city that never sleeps, makes an exception for the house of God in the dead of the night, it seems.

It’s been…several years since my last confession. 

The graveyard attached to the church looks threatening in its vacancy. It’s void of human souls except for the dead ones buried there. A raven claps its wings in the distance, following the gush of wind that brushes through the trees. 

The bell rings twelve times before it stops, but the echo bounces off the stone walls and shakes the stained-glass windows, which seems to drag on for an eternity. 

The last time I confessed my sins was before my communion. I don’t know if that makes me a bad Catholic, but lately, I’ve been having sinful thoughts, and I need to get them out of the way before I collapse under the weight of them.

You considered for the longest time whether or not you should come here. Faith has been your enemy for the longest time. You don’t believe in the Catholic Church, and yet you have found your way here, in the middle of the night, when everyone should be asleep in their beds. 

This isn’t a normal night, by any means. You often lay awake at night and question your purpose in this life, but lately, you’ve been feeling like you’re drowning. Sins are subjective, and you never paid much mind to the term until now. 

The thoughts you find yourself having late at night when you’re awake and lonely are far from holy. They aren’t ideal. They make you wonder just why you are thinking this way now.

But no man has ever been like him. And the worst part about it is that wanting him alone is an unholy train of thought you should have never submitted to. 

You tried ignoring it, carrying it all by yourself, and trying to heal whatever complex you may have that could have led to this obsession in the first place, but your life has been a mess for long enough that it doesn’t even surprise you anymore, and no matter what you tried to do, you couldn’t stop fantasizing about him.

He is the reason you came to church tonight to confess your sins. But you’re not here to find your way. You’re not here to ask for guidance from God. You told yourself that the unholiness of your thoughts needs to be cured and that is why you came here—to make this situation better for yourself—but the thought is ancient; it’s the twenty-first century and you’re the kind of person who knows exactly what they want and how to get it. The truth is, you’re here to get what you want, even if it will land you in the pits of hell for all eternity. And even if it kills you.

“You don’t do this kind of thing often, do you?” the low voice asks from the other side of the confessional booth.

You shake your head. “Not at all, Father. When I went to Sunday Mass this weekend, it was my first time in a church in a very long time,” you admit to him, “and this is my first confession since I was a child. I…I’m not really a devoted Catholic, you understand. I’m merely struggling right now, and I…I am in desperate need of guidance.”

Your lip quivers. Your voice resembles a tidal wave that comes and goes as nature pleases.

He can’t see you. It’s not the curtain that is separating you and is starting to feel like worlds apart—he can’t see you. He can only hear and smell you, and that alone makes your thighs clench with need. 

Should you be doing this in a church? Should you fantasize about a man of God and want to claim him, coming to his sanctuary to tell him the truth and mess with his head? You know that it’s wrong, but the wrong thing often feels too right to stop. 

When you met him at the farmer’s market the other day, he was so endlessly kind to everyone, including yourself. He invited you to Sunday mass, and you went. You went on a walk with him afterward, and there seemed to be something there, but he couldn’t act on it because he is who he is and what he is. He made a vow. He can’t have you, no matter how badly he wants to, and one look into his unfocused hazel eyes when he took off those red glasses he always wears told you that he does want you. It led to another sleepless night among many, and now you’re here.

You’re so utterly selfish, but God, you can’t stop it. When you want something, you would do anything to get it. He makes you feel things you never felt before. It’s terrifying, but you have to allow yourself to jump into unknown waters if you want to learn how to swim.

He clears his throat, and you can hear the chair creak under his weight as he shifts. Is it possible that you’re doing the same to him that he is doing to you?

“I want to start by saying that you’re really brave,” he says. The sound of his voice is enough to make you shiver. “But God offers people guidance in a symbolic sense. I can take your confession, tell you how to repent for your sins, but I can’t tell you what to do.”

You sigh. “I wish you would though.”

A chuckle passes his lips. “Why don’t you start by telling me what’s weighing you down, sweetheart, and we will go from there?”

Sweetheart. 

Yes, you think, this is your one-way ticket to hell. 

“I’ve been having thoughts,” you confess.

“Thoughts?” he asks.

“Yes. Unholy thoughts.” Your breath comes in weak puffs of air. The booth seems to cave in on you. You wish he would step out of his booth into yours and stuff his cock into your mouth. For him, you would shut up. You would do whatever he tells you to do, and you would do so gladly.

Fuck. You want to fuck a priest. 

But lucky for you, Father Matthew wants to fuck you too. He’s here, at midnight, because you were lost and he was still there—he told you he spends his nights at church sometimes because the city gets too loud for him. You couldn’t go anywhere else because any place where he isn’t doesn’t seem worth visiting.

Matt sucks in a sharp breath. You imagine him swallowing, his white collar constricting his labored airflow. You imagine him pulling at it to free himself, but he can’t. Those sinfully thick fingers of his would feel even better on your skin. 

“Unholy thoughts,” Father Matthew asks, “about whom, sweetheart?”

He’s pushing your buttons with that nickname. It’s so not professional. The lines are starting to blur.

“A man,” you tell him. 

“A man?”

“A man of God.”

The confession causes a bout of silence. You could have heard a hairpin drop. 

His chair creaks again, and his voice reminds you of an animalistic growl right before an apex predator attacks its prey. “And what unholy thoughts have you been having about this man of God?” he inquires.

Your inner walls clench around thin air. Sweat drips down your temples, and the arousal soaks your underwear. Your nipples strain against your shirt. If you grip the seat any harder, you will soon find wooden chips under your nails.

You lick your lips. “I’ve been thinking about him touching me,” you whisper. “And I want to touch him.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere.”

“And in your thoughts, does he satisfy you?”

Your answer comes promptly, “Always.”

There is not a scenario in which Father Matthew could possibly leave you unsatisfied. 

The chair creaks again. Something in the air shifts. 

Your voice is breathless and needy, and so fucking desperate when you speak into the silence, “Just tell me what to do, Father.”

“Okay,” he says. His leather shoes drag across the floor of the booth and toward the curtain that marks the exit of his side. The next word out of his mouth knocks all the air out of your lungs, “Kneel.”

You don’t even have time to question his request. Within seconds, the curtain through which you’ve stepped into the confessional booth is torn to the side, and there he is, in all of his glory, right in front of you, and his thick cock is straining against his black slacks.

You pinch yourself, but you’re not dreaming. This is real. This is what you wanted, and you weren’t imagining the mutual attraction due to delusions. He does want you, and he is about to break every rule in his book—and the lord’s book.

You sink to your knees. The only thing you can see on his face is pure, unbridled lust and the ugly truth of Catholic guilt. He must loathe himself for wanting you. 

Matt removes his glasses, revealing his beautiful eyes to you. In the dim candlelight, they appear almost black.

“What’s my sentence, Father?” you ask.

His hand brushes your cheek. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he breathes.

“I’m sorry, Father.”

“No.” He steps into the booth and closes the curtain behind him. “Tonight, call me Matt.”

That is the last thing he says before he gets on his knees before you, and he captures your lips in a bruising kiss that is strong enough to make the angels howl.

His hand rests around your throat, feeling your pulse. He may not be able to see you with his eyes, but the way he touches you paints a perfect picture of your presence, and you feel every last ounce of his devotion. 

He explores the depth of your mouth with his tongue, tasting you, loving you. His hands feel beautifully rough against your skin, just like you imagined they would be after years of praying. He sees himself as the hands of God. A messenger. His goodness makes your heart swell and your core flood with more than unbridled arousal—this is human nature in all its emotional glory, and you no longer feel ashamed. You can’t possibly when he is holding you like this.

He exhales into your mouth—no, he breathes life into your soul. “You’re the most sinful yet purest thing I have ever laid my hands on,” Matt says.

You gasp against his luscious lips. “I wouldn’t want to make you turn your back on God, or–”

He cuts you off, “I did that when I first thought about your body on mine and coming so deep inside of you that you’ll carry me with you for days. I don’t care about God because if having him means that I can’t have you,” he says, “I don’t want him anymore.”

You swallow his words with a kiss. Turning a priest against God was never your intention, but you are not in charge of his feelings, nor will you ever be. Matt wants you badly enough to abandon religion, and you will carry that with you until the day you die. 

He lifts you back onto the edge of the wooden chair, pulling at your clothes and your undergarments. The moonlight hits his face as the cold air of the church hits your bare pussy. He looks ethereal like this, on his knees for you. His hazel eyes bore into your soul. He wears his heart on his sleeves and a collar around his neck. 

Your priest crosses his chest. He asks God for forgiveness. And then, with one gentle tug at your thighs, he buries his face in your wet cunt, and he feasts as if your sex was the last supper. As God’s disciple, he is determined to eat up every last bite offered to him. Every last drop from your cunt is his, and your lips part in a moan that echoes through the church like the bells did when it hit midnight.

“Fuck,” you cry out. 

He flattens his tongue against you, licking a long stripe over and then through your folds. He twirls the tip of his tongue over your clit, stroking the sensitive bundle of nerves with such precision, your walls clench at the sheer explosion of pleasure. You have never felt anything like it. He turns something unholy into heaven, and you’re drowning in the river to the Garden of Eden.

His lips suction around your clit. The obscene squelching of your velvety walls fills the booth. It sounds deadly noisy to you. You want to cover your mouth to stop the moans from traveling, but he traps your hand with his, guiding them to his hand, telling you to guide him.  

Instead, one of your hands moves to his collar. It’s his turn to moan. You tug at the symbol of his priesthood, forcing his tongue deeper into your hole. He laps up your juices as though his life depends on it. 

“Forgive me, Lord, for I have sinned,” Matt murmurs against you. 

You moan again, louder this time. He is repenting for wanting to dive into your pussy until he gets swept away by the tide, but it is far too late to back out now. Your pleasure has become his priority. 

“Lord God,” he repeats, “in your goodness have mercy on me.”

The pleasure is turning into a tight knot in your lower abdomen. You can feel it consuming you and your senses. You’re floating. The light at the end of the tunnel is not so far out of reach anymore. Every suck and every lick at your folds, and every thrust of his tongue into your tight walls pushes you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. 

In your goodness, have mercy on me. 

He bites down lightly on your clit. Your toes curl, and his name comes out in a groan.

Do not look on my sins, but take away all my guilt. 

Right now, you are his God. By drinking your arousal like holy water and pushing you toward an orgasm he is repenting. The symbolism makes your heels dig into his back as you buck your hips against his mouth, and when he adds one of those thick fingers, curling them up against that sweet spot inside of you, you can barely stand it anymore.

Create me in a clean heart and renew within me an upright spirit.

“God, Matthew!” your moan interrupts his plea for penance only briefly.

He swats your thigh. “No blasphemy when I feast at the altar,” he says. The vibration of his voice adds to the knot, tightening it, and threatening it to burst.

You’re almost there. Almost…

“Have mercy on me, a sinner,” he continues. His tongue slides between your folds once again, gathering your slit. His fingers curl upward again. He’s mixing different prayers, or maybe these are his own words, but you are not sure how much longer you can hold it. But he wants you to hold it. You don’t want to disappoint the man who is worshiping at your feet, your pussy, his altar, and you are his salvation as much as you are his saving grace.

“In choosing to do wrong and failing to do good,” he prays, “I have sinned against You whom I should love above all things—but fuck, I don’t.” 

Does that mean he loves you? It is too soon to tell that, but he is devoted, and devotion can be just as sinfully sweet as the rawest feeling of love.

“Have mercy on me, God. Amen!”

His collar is starting to tear under your vice grip. 

Matt thrusts his digit into you until it disappears, and he finally decides to show the mercy he was begging for to you. “Come for me, sweetheart,” he says. 

Your thighs lock around his head as the knot breaks in two. You come, hard, and the wave tears him down with you, shooting his cum into his slacks like the good Catholic boy he is.

You let go of his collar when your orgasm has done its damage. 

“No,” he stops you. 

“No?” you ask, still breathless.

“No,” he says, lifting his head to grin at you, not like a man of God but the Devil himself. “I have not done nearly enough penance.”

As a priest, Matt is used to being on his knees until they’re bruised; until he can’t stand straight anymore, so he has to remain there, cowering before a God he more often than not does not believe in.

Before you can protest, he dives back into your endless ocean, and you have no choice but to lean back and take it. 

He is not the only one doing penance tonight, after all—you both are. 

Matt Murdock Smut Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @ravenclaw617 @pigeonmama

[femscottlang]

S & M

Part Two

Aaron Hotchner X Fem! Reader

Summary: The new BAU agent has been very reserved. You rejected the offer to go out with the team on a friday, already promising your friends you’d go out with them. Turns out you all ended up in the same club and Hotch sees a completely different side of you

Warnings: 18+, suggestive language, drinking

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: This is completely inspired by the song S&M by Rhianna and fleabag, I hope u enjoy the reference

my suggestions are open !

Sitting at your desk, finishing up the last bit of the paperwork that you had to get done today, Emily approached you and leaned against the side of your desk. “Hey, the whole team is going out tonight, you in?” she asked, giving a kind smile. The team hasn’t pushed you to open up yet, giving you time to understand the different dynamics and where you fit in. You enjoy the team's company, but getting drunk around them before you're able to have a non-work related conversation with them that isn’t small talk sounds like your worst nightmare.

Especially being drunk around your very stoic, extremely attractive boss. You gave her an apologetic smile “I promise my girlfriends I’d go out with them tonight, but next time it's a yes” you said

She nodded and pushed herself back onto her feet “Im holding you to that, newbie” she said, giving you a wink before walking over to morgan shaking her head to tell him that you said no. you let out a sigh and stretched your arms above your head, shutting off your computer and packing up your briefcase. You waved goodbye “have fun guys!” you said before making your way to your apartment

You traded your conservative turtleneck, slacks, and courthouse heels for a tight backless mini dress and black stiletto pumps. You took out the low bun and shook your head before looking in the mirror and deciding it looked fine after running a brush through it. You looked in the mirror with a smile on your face.

This was the first time you got to go out and destress since joining the team 6 months ago and it was desperately needed, but you couldn’t stop thinking about what hotch would be like drunk. Relaxed? never. You thought about the rare moments that he smiles and lets his dry humor shine.

Now you kinda wish you went so you could see what he would do. Maybe he’d wear that quarter-zip he wore in Alaska. Maybe a tight polo, or even better, a tight button-up without a tie, sleeves rolled up to show his arms. You bit your lip to hold back a smile and shook the thought out of your head, slapping your cheeks as you heard your friends knock on your door.

After pregaming at your place, you and two of your friends took an uber to a club you had never heard of before, but the girls hyped it up so you gave in and agreed to go. “I'm so glad we got you to go out. We thought we would never see you again” one of them said, dramatically leaning against you in the cramped backseat.

You scoffed and pushed her back up giggling “I work at the FBI, your office is like ten minutes from HQ,” you said “still” she pouted before you put a hand over her face “This is the first time I’ve even been home on a Friday night and haven't been completely exhausted! So stop complaining and let's have fun,” you said 

The three of you walked in, immediately heading to the bar and ordering a round of shots after deciding that you needed a little bit more liquid courage before hitting the dance floor. Scrunching your face and letting out a huff, you relaxed and let the heat spread from the apples of your cheeks to the tips of your ears and down the rest of your body.

You closed your eyes, trying not to cringe at the taste as you were grabbed and dragged out to the crowded dance floor as S & M by Rhianna came on over the speakers. 

You grinned, swaying along to the music and running your hands over your body, glaring at the guys who dared to try and approach you. You lost interest in one-night stands a while ago, knowing you just get too attached too quickly.

“I might be bad, but I'm perfectly good at it, sex in the air I don't care I love the smell of it” you and your girls sang to each other, grinning. One of them spun you around as she did you made eye contact with the last person you expected to see, Aaron Hotchner.

“sticks and stones may break my bones but chains and whips excite me” Once you were able to drag your eyes away from his you saw the whole team looking at you with amused smiles. Your eyes went wide like a deer in headlights, your stomach dropping “oh no.” you turned back around immediately, suddenly feeling sober

“Okay don't look at the same time but my entire team is here. Like. everyone.” you said as their heads both snapped to your team, “I said not at the same time!” you hissed, putting your hands on your face “This is my literal worst nightmare. We gotta go to a different club, they cannot see me drunk,” you said, pacing in your small space of the dance floor

“is that the boss that you were talking about? I understand why you have a crush on him” you looked at her with wide-eyed “shush! I told you that in confidence!” 

“Whos the one with the long hair and the sweater vest? Can you introduce me?” the other said. That pulled a laugh out of you

“Dr. Spencer Reid. and absolutely not keep your paws off my colleagues, you minx” you joked before looking at them again, seeing them smile at you and whisper to each other.

“Stay here, I'm gonna close our tab,” you said, walking back towards the bar. The worst part was that Hotch was wearing a tighter button-down with no tie, switching his usual white one for black. No one should look that good. It's unfair to the other guys at the club.

Aaron wasn’t keen on the idea of being in a club, claiming he was too old for it, but Jessica had Jack for the weekend and he didn't want to go back to an empty apartment right away. He sipped on his second neat bourbon of the night, knowing that the rest of the team would be drinking more and he’d have to make sure none of them did anything too stupid.

“Oh my god.” He heard Penelope screech “Look! Newbie!” she said, pointing at you on the floor. Hotch followed her finger and watched you move to the music completely relaxed and smiling, a complete 180 of your usual professional rigidness and tightlipped smile. His lips parted as he watched you, not looking away once you met his eye. His ears burned as you sang along to the suggestive lyrics. He coughed and looked away, finishing off his drink and getting up to get another silently. 

You stood at the bar, waiting for the bartender to finish making his drinks as you reached in your bra for your card, tapping it against the counter to the beat of the music. You looked back at your friends to make sure nothing happened to them and they looked at you with shit-eating grins, pointing behind you.

You gave them a confused look before you looked to your right, seeing Hotch inches away from you. He waved over the bartender and you prayed that he didn’t see you standing there. “I'll get another bourbon neat and” he looked at you “what would you like?” he gave a small smile.

A rare sight that sent shivers down your spine as you pulled down the short hem of your dress to try to appear a little more modest.

 “Oh no worries, Sir, I-I was just going to close my tab.” you explained, reaching over to hand your card to the bartender, he grabbed your wrist and put on back against your chest “you don't have to leave because we’re here. You deserve to relax with your friends.” You looked down at his large hand wrapped around your wrist and trailed your eyes from his hand to his rolled up sleeves displaying his veiny arms and across his chest, the shirt emphasizing his physique with the first few buttons left undone. Your breathing sped up as you finally made eye contact with him again. 

Give it to me strong, meet me in my boudoir make my body say-

“Alright, uh I'll just take a whiskey ginger,” you said, finally breaking eye contact, he nodded at the bartender, who just set down hotch’s bourbon. He released your wrist  “and a whiskey ginger for the lady” he gave him a curt smile and picked up his drink.

"you look nice with your hair down, you should wear it that way more often.” he said, his eyes looking over your figure in a way that you'd never seen him do before as he brought his drink to his lips. You reached up and touched your hair, looking down at it “Thank you, sir” you said, twirling a strand around her finger in a nervous manner 

He scoffed and shook his head “oh fuck you calling me Sir like it doesn't turn you on just to say it.” he chuckled. You let your mouth fall open, the corners of your mouth turning up as you looked at the team and then your friends to see if they are watching what was happening. The only person seemed to be Rossi, who gave you a thumbs up which only added to your confusion.

"Sir, how much have you had tonight?” you asked, nodding a thank you to the bartender as you picked up your drink. You held the straw and took a sip, not breaking eye contact with him. 

He looked away, sucking in his bottom lip to stifle a smile “I see the way you look at me. Cmon. we’re all profilers” you studied his face for a second to see if there was even an ounce of anger.

There wasn’t.

“I thought we didn’t profile each other.” you said, smirking at him. He leaned against the counter, his forearms holding him up “We always profile the Newbies a little bit. You’re lucky no one else has caught on. You’re not exactly subtle.” he said, looking up at the ceiling.

You leaned in closer “And? Go ahead. Profile me. Tell me how I look at you.” you taunted.

He looked back at you, his eyelids hooded. “It's not how you look at me. It's what you look at. I see you looking at my arms. Especially when I am not wearing a blazer. I would have assumed you just didn’t to make eye contact because of my position of authority but you have no problem looking Rossi in the eye. Then I thought maybe you just like strong arms, but you rarely look at Morgan’s, whose arms are bigger than mine.” he said, leaning in closer, his face inches from yours.

“Everyone else calls me Hotch but you only call me sir.” you ran your tongue over your teeth and titled your head, feigning innocence “So?” you said, tilting your head.

“Doll, you’re smart enough to piece it together,” he said, not daring to move any closer. 

“What are you gonna do about it, sir ?”

[jbaileyfansite]

Interview with Interview Magazine (2024)

Before he was known as the dashing Lord Anthony Bridgerton or Tim Laughlin, the character in Fellow Travelers for which he won a Critics Choice Award earlier this month, Jonathan Bailey caught the attention of Phoebe Waller-Bridge with his confident, self-possessed audition for her show Crashing nearly a decade ago. “You came in like a fireball,” said the Fleabag star on Zoom with Bailey, recounting how, while reading for the role of the sex-obsessed Sam, Bailey asked permission to lay his script out on the floor in front of him like a rainbow. “You had no embarrassment. You didn’t actually refer to it again, but you took those few seconds to just completely set up what you exactly needed for that audition, and then you were so free.” In the years since, with roles in Bridgerton, the Showtime drama Fellow Travelers, and the upcoming Wicked movie adaptation, Bailey has become one of the most sought-after actors in the business, capable of generating sparks with whoever’s on screen with him. Waller-Bridge attributes this to the 35-year-old’s distinct understanding of tension. “You’re like a chemistry machine,” she gushed. “There’s this incredible erotic energy that people are so excited about.” Last week, from a hotel room at Claridge’s in London, Bailey talked to Waller-Bridge about longing, orgasms, frosted tips, nostalgia, Shakespeare, and his very first role: playing a raindrop in a stage production of Noah’s Ark.

PHOEBE WALLER-BRIDGE: Hi.

JONATHAN BAILEY: Hi.

WALLER-BRIDGE: I’m taking my glasses off. Now I can be real.

BAILEY: I’ve just had a gin and tonic, actually. I had a meeting and he really wanted a glass of Whispering Angel, so I was like, “Well, I’ve got to dive in.”

WALLER-BRIDGE: What’s the time there?

BAILEY: Oh, I’m literally around the corner from you. Literally, I’ve come into Claridge’s Hotel and checked in for an hour just to have a Zoom.

WALLER-BRIDGE: Oh, god. That’s so chic. Jonny, I want all of your secrets.

BAILEY: I feel like you’ve got quite a few of them already.

WALLER-BRIDGE: I do, actually. And we’re not going to talk about any of those. But I did also get to do a little bit of research on you.

BAILEY: Oh, god. What have you got?

WALLER-BRIDGE: Jonathan Stewart Bailey, I’d like to jump straight in with the fact that the first professional job you had was playing a teardrop, or a raindrop?

BAILEY: There were teardrops, but yeah, I was playing a raindrop.

WALLER-BRIDGE: You were a crying raindrop.

BAILEY: A crying raindrop in Noah’s Ark.

WALLER-BRIDGE: And how old were you then?

BAILEY: I think I was about 5 going on 29. I was really upset because it didn’t rain. The bitch that played Noah, she forgot the cue for the rain to come. So my dance didn’t make it, but at the end of the show they allowed me to do it once everyone had applauded.

WALLER-BRIDGE: I asked you that specifically because you’ve also said that your grandmother took you to see a production of Oliver in London and that’s what changed everything.

BAILEY: Yes.

WALLER-BRIDGE: So was the raindrop before or after that? I am getting to something, I promise.

BAILEY: I think it was probably afterwards. I was really young when I went to see Oliver.

WALLER-BRIDGE: I’m interested because I read that seeing it made you decide you wanted to perform. Can you tell me the specific thing that made it click?

BAILEY: I’ll tell you, the most bizarre thing is that I had three seasons at the RSC under my belt by the age of nine. There was a moment where I played Prince Arthur, the kid in Shakespeare who gets his eyes gouged out and has to escape a turret. I remember doing that production and thinking I was aware of the power of words, if that makes sense. You’re so porous at that age, I think. It is such a gift, isn’t it, to be shown what iambic pentameter is.

WALLER-BRIDGE: Do you still feel passionate about Shakespeare now?

BAILEY: I do, actually. It’s my dirty, filthy habit.

WALLER-BRIDGE: Your dirty little habit. I know what you mean, though, how if you come to it quite raw, and it’s not something that you’ve had shoved down your throat at school, there is nothing more epic and spectacular.

BAILEY: And being around people who are just so committed to their vocation, whether they’re writing or creating. The smell backstage at the RSC at the Barbican was like cigarettes, stage makeup, Joe Fiennes, and hope.

WALLER-BRIDGE: That’s a lot of beautiful smells you’ve got going on there.

BAILEY: I know. Talk about top notes and bottom notes. I was like, “These men, these titans of theater!”

WALLER-BRIDGE: That’s extraordinary that you were exposed to that kind of level of professionalism. Because you are consummately professional, and I remember that. You have this incredible ability to be completely live and spontaneous and wild at the same time as being so incredibly professional, and that’s why working with you felt totally safe. I know that I’ve got a professional actor coming today, but I have absolutely no idea what’s going to happen because you still managed to keep that spontaneity and danger.

BAILEY: I suppose it’s sometimes dangerous. Today I had to do an interview. Crashing came up and I described working with you as being on the constant edge of an orgasm and also hysteria.

WALLER-BRIDGE: It did have a kind of wild, beautiful energy.

BAILEY: There’s a chemical alchemy when you get the right group of people led by the right people.

WALLER-BRIDGE: I haven’t had that in quite the same way since, where everyone has equal importance in the story. That’s the thing that feels quite rare, actually, there’s like six of you and they’re all as fucked up as each other. I remember your audition. You came in like a fireball and you already felt like you had a Sam energy. You sat in your chair, took out your script from your bag, and then you were like, “Give me a second,” and you laid out your script around you on the floor. You had no embarrassment about what you needed or in front of you. You didn’t actually refer to it again, but you took those few seconds to just completely set up what you exactly needed for that audition, and then you were so free. And I just wonder if you’ve felt that particular type of confidence your whole life?

BAILEY: That’s a really good question. I’ve got three older sisters and I wonder if they are a structure. I’ve definitely been in environments where I don’t feel free, and then you give the worst performance of your life. What I’ve found in the last few years is that, of course, you have to adapt so quickly to work out what you need in order to be able to be free. I think if I don’t have the equivalent of that on the floor, I panic or get really scared.

WALLER-BRIDGE: There’s something about that, which is being able to play dangerously in a safe environment. I feel like that’s got so much to do with an understanding of tension, which I think you have. You’re like a chemistry machine. Obviously, with Bridgerton and then in Fellow Travelers, there’s this incredible erotic energy that people are so excited about.

BAILEY: I really think it comes from Crashing.

WALLER-BRIDGE: It doesn’t come from Crashing, it comes from you. I think you’re the king of tension. I think you understand what that is.

BAILEY: I think you can give yourself butterflies, can’t you?

WALLER-BRIDGE: Is that what you’re looking for, the butterfly all the time?

BAILEY: Yeah, I’m always looking for my butterfly farm. The misty, slightly smelly greenhouse full of butterflies.

WALLER-BRIDGE: That’s your tummy?

BAILEY: Yeah, that’s my tummy.

WALLER-BRIDGE: Did you always dream of playing leading man roles growing up?

BAILEY: Not at all, no. I never thought I would be able to.

WALLER-BRIDGE: Why?

BAILEY: I’ve realized that I’m completely in awe of other people and performances and creative endeavors. I go to the theater and I love a performance and I’m like, “How do they do that? I can’t see the seams.” So therefore, I feel like I must be driven by that. And when something comes my way, there’s a fear that it won’t work.

WALLER-BRIDGE: What’s really exciting to me is when I see palpable dynamics between characters, which you have done multiple times, like the relationship between Tim and Hawk. There’s so much opportunity for intimacy and that kind of danger. And when you get to play those sorts of roles, when you know that you can stand in front of each other and you don’t really need to do anything because it’s giving you something, it must’ve just been a joy walking into this world because it’s like a banquet of stuff to play with, right?

BAILEY: Totally, and it feels sort of vital and sexy. I do remember this one memory, which I guess I’ll share with you now. I did play and there was a tiled wall,at eye level with a mirrored border around. And there was a guy, we were into each other, and I remember just looking up in the middle of a conversation and he was looking at me in a reflection. And I was like, “This is what life is about.” Anyway, I think that it must have something to do with feeling the most alive in that.

WALLER-BRIDGE: Do you know Esther Perel?

BAILEY: Yeah, I love Esther Perel.

WALLER-BRIDGE: So she’s written about how she believes that your next orgasm begins at the very end of your last one, which is basically our whole life just building up to our next orgasm.

BAILEY: That’s just fantastic. It’s just so positive and hopeful—

WALLER-BRIDGE: And so beautiful, isn’t it?

BAILEY: It is.

WALLER-BRIDGE: Everything that you encounter in your life, every conversation that you have, is in some way building up to the next euphoric physical experience. Every single character has to have that inside them one way or another, because every human does. And I think with Fellow Travelers, because you long for them so much as an audience and you want them to have everything that they want from each other, but they’re also brutal to themselves and to each other, there is something so extraordinary seeing characters in that time portrayed in the way that you guys have portrayed them.

BAILEY: One thing that we’re all born with is the sense of longing. Longing comes before anything else, doesn’t it? Whoever you put on the wall, laminate the poster or whatever, it’s there. And actually, if you long for someone, more often than not you don’t think you are worthy of it. And that, to me, is a way into characters.

WALLER-BRIDGE: Do you remember your laminated poster longing person?

BAILEY: I think I had the Simpsons, which was obviously me trying to disguise myself as much as possible. Lucy Liu was a big one for me, too.

WALLER-BRIDGE: Well, I can see that.

BAILEY: I suppose there’s the laminated wall in my literal bedroom and then there’s the laminated wall in my gay—

WALLER-BRIDGE: Mind.

BAILEY: Who was yours?

WALLER-BRIDGE: You know what? It’s really interesting, because I was the eagle in the Rescuers Down Under. That wasn’t necessarily a sexual longing, but it was a romantic idea, that overwhelming sense of watching the Rescuers Down Under and being able to run out of the back of my house on my own, age 10, and jump onto the back of a giant eagle and he’ll fly me around. But in terms of just a hottie that I really fancied, I think it was probably Leo [DiCaprio].

BAILEY: Oh, yeah.

WALLER-BRIDGE: Are you a nostalgic person?

BAILEY: Yes, I think so. I think a lot about my younger self. I’m always like, “Guys, remember this?” It’s slightly annoying, but I’m always drawing a line between the past and now for sure.

WALLER-BRIDGE: That’s how you measure your life, by remembering the time that’s gone by or what 11-year-old you would think of what you were doing?

BAILEY: I think I’m probably more romantic than nostalgic, if that makes sense.

WALLER-BRIDGE: Go on.

BAILEY: Well, I just think I’ve fully committed to the idea of everything being brilliant and then I work backwards from there.

WALLER-BRIDGE: Well, having starred in two hit period dramas and also being a huge part of the fact that they are a hit, that’s why I wondered about what your relationship is with the past and history, and how much you actually knew about McCarthy America?

BAILEY: Oh, no. Have you got a quiz?

WALLER-BRIDGE: I actually don’t. Do you want one?

BAILEY: No, that would be the worst.

WALLER-BRIDGE: Do you enjoy historical novels? Do you live in the past in any way in your mind? Or you are kind of like, “We’re here and we’re moving forward?”

BAILEY: I do think I’m here and moving forward. I really struggled with history at school, I could not take in information about the past. When it came to exams, I would remember the page where things were written but I couldn’t stitch together epochs and eras and kings.

WALLER-BRIDGE: It crashes my brain, too. I have a friend, and you can say to her, “June 24th, 1999,” and she can tell you pretty much what she was up to.

BAILEY: That’s amazing.

WALLER-BRIDGE: You can see her go into the diary in her mind. She has a very different wiring of her brain. But speaking of longing, are there any fictional or real life couples, gay or straight, that captured your heart over the years?

BAILEY: Oh my god, what a question. What about Michelle Williams and Ryan Gosling in Blue Valentine?

WALLER-BRIDGE: I think Morticia and Gomez Addams were the most romantic couple.

BAILEY: Yeah, I see that.

WALLER-BRIDGE: They understood it. They got it all.

BAILEY: Also maybe Ryan and Marissa in The OC.

WALLER-BRIDGE: Yeah, yeah, yeah. Any gay male couples that you ever looked up to or were romanced by?

BAILEY: Well unfortunately, there just weren’t that many were there growing up.

WALLER-BRIDGE: So wild.

BAILEY: But I met Matthew Rhys recently, who I just love. And I was thinking about that relationship in Brothers and Sisters. And then there was Queer as Folk. Russell, T. Davies changed the game. So many people owe so much to him just purely for visibility. There is no Tim and Hawk to a 2023 audience without Queer as Folk.

WALLER-BRIDGE: But did you feel frustrated?

BAILEY: Well, speaking of history, I was doing media studies with an amazing teacher and I decided that I was going to do my dissertation about the representations of Hutus and Tutsis and the Rwanda genocide, looking at Hotel Rwanda and Shooting Dogs. And then Brokeback Mountain came out and I was like, “Hang on, how can I possibly create a world where I can go and have a free pass to go to the cinema to watch it 10 times?” I’m really proud of my 17-year-old self, I wasn’t necessarily out, but I changed the topic to representation of homosexuality in Brokeback Mountain and I watched that film 10 times. And this amazing teacher, Dr. Brunton, who probably had an idea of what was going on, was just like, “This is brilliant, keep going, keep going.” And I think it was the best mark I ever got.

WALLER-BRIDGE: Do you still have it?

BAILEY: It must be on a hard drive upstairs in the attic. And obviously, that completely changed me, something chemical happened there. But it’s funny, I’m not clear on memories. And I do think it’s a common thing for a lot of people, growing up and having to survive and be basically in fight or flight, there’s a murkiness to how I recall.

WALLER-BRIDGE: Of course, because you couldn’t be truly present because you weren’t being completely yourself.

BAILEY: Totally, yeah.

WALLER-BRIDGE: When you look back and start unpacking it, do you feel overwhelmed with sympathy for how hard you were having to work as a 16-year-old, coming up with excuses to see the movie that you wanted to see?

BAILEY: Yeah. But I spent more time trying to be sympathetic towards the people that were around me who didn’t support or couldn’t help. I look back and I go, “Hell.”

WALLER-BRIDGE: Yes. But you are representing that and living that for so many people now. Your speech at the Critics Choice Awards the other day was so sublime and beautiful and straight from the heart. You are so electric as a human being and that is the most important thing. There aren’t many people in the world that can do that, that can stand there in front of people and speak from their heart about what it means to them to be given this opportunity. And I know that your career is just going to be the most extraordinary journey. When I first met you, I remember sitting with Josh [Cole], who was the producer on Crashing, and we were like, “If we get this guy, it’s going to be the game changer for the show.” And I know that every single person now wanting you on their project is feeling the same thing.

BAILEY: I definitely feel overwhelmed by that, but it’s lovely to hear.

WALLER-BRIDGE: Can I just ask you one question which I couldn’t remember about Crashing?

BAILEY: Yeah.

WALLER-BRIDGE: The frosted tips were your idea, wasn’t it?

BAILEY: I had this conversation today. I think it’s in the script. But my reference picture was Justin Timberlake in double denim.

WALLER-BRIDGE: No, I don’t think it was [in the script], because Sam’s a character that I hold closest to my heart because, in so many ways, he represents how I feel about maybe my inner life. I just love him so much, and your ability to play every single little corner of him that I dreamed of.

BAILEY: Maybe that’s the answer I was looking for when you asked if I was drawn to any romantic couples? No, it was just about wanting bleach blonde hair.

Source

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

༉‧₊˚. 𝐯𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 || 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

― pairing: therapist!spencer reid x plus size!reader

― summary: you felt like you were staring in an episode of fleabag as you found yourself walking to your therapist office after sleeping with him the night before.

― warnings: therapist!spencer reid, no unbalanced power dynamics, mentioned past sexual activity, referenced desk sex, referenced office sex, office sex, couch sex, praise, heavy kissing, making out, unprotected sex (be safe please!), vaginal sex, rough sex, coming inside, teasing, fluff, fluff at the end, fleabag references because it's a great show go watch it.

― wc: 1337

⋆ a/n: ahhh! it feels so great to be back! i told you guys i would come back with another smut fic, and honestly, this was a great refresher! at first, i wasn't sure if i wanted to go this route, but it's been an idea i've had for a while. i made sure that i wrote it to where i was comfortable with it, and in no way am i encouraging you sleeping with your therapist! this is completely fictional! *this is a repost

masterlist | AO3

“We’ve danced around each other for long enough, don’t you think?” Were words you hadn’t expected to hear as you sat down in your therapist’s office that afternoon. Sure, you had been dancing around your very inappropriate feelings for him because it was all kinds of wrong, but that kind of seemed to slip your mind as you allowed him to take you right there on his desk, pants shoved down, and lips joined in a searing kiss as he fucked you.

You must admit that session was more effective than the other ones have been. Could you really blame you? C’mon, everyone knew that Spencer Reid was fucking hot, and seriously good at his job, so you knew you were fucked the moment he greeted you with that goofy grin of his. You have been doing significantly better mentally, but who says a little extra help wouldn’t be beneficial?

There was a skip in your step as you made your way to his office, the ache between your legs beginning to subtly creep up on you as you knocked on his door. You could hear a faint ‘Come in!’ before you did, slipping in the room, excitement bubbling in your stomach as you practically ate the man up with your eyes.

“Ah, Miss _______, sit down.” He greeted with a smirk on his face, gesturing to the sofa that you would usually lay on. You knew this was all some part of foreplay, he wouldn’t look at you with this dark, glossed over eyes if it wasn’t. You found your breathing speeding up as he walked over to you, his long frame hanging over yours as he planted his hands on either side of you, gripping onto the back of the couch for leverage. You tilted your head up, desperate for any kind of contact with him as your lips brushed up against his, his breath hitting them.

“What seems to be the problem today?” Spencer asked tauntingly. Your whole body tingled as you answered him, “I’ve been thinking too much since our last session.” His right hand fell to cup the side of your neck, his thumb intimidatingly stroking the side of it as you shivered. “Oh? And what brought this up?” Your hands slid up his chest when you gripped onto his tie, tugging his body farther downwards.

“You.” You whispered before kissing him.

He shared the same amount of vigor before he pulled away from you so that he could switch positions so that he was now the one sitting down. You clambered onto his lap, tangling your fingers in his untamable curly blonde hair, his own keeping a bruising grip on your plush hips so that he could assist you in grinding down on his ever-growing bulge. You whimpered against his lips as his slacks rubbed against your jean covered clit.

“You think you could cum from this?” He heaved, his voice deep and bellowing as he watched you. “Why don’t you find out, Dr. Reid?” You teased with a slow drag of your crotch. He all but growled, shoving your jacket off your shoulders before dropping down to the hem of your shirt, pretty much tearing it off you and throwing it somewhere in his office. He helped you to take off his suit jacket as you rushed to pop open the buttons of his collared shirt, the male loosening his tie and letting it drop to the floor. His bare chest was now open for you to see. You could see some age on his body but nevertheless, he was toned, a pudge in stomach giving his hard body some plushness.

This was the body of a man, a man that you wanted to take care of you, to fuck you. You began to kiss once more before he began to nip your jaw and neck, your head falling back to give him more access to your sensitive skin.

His hands crept to unhook your bra, the cups releasing your breasts for him to cup, feeling the heaviness in his hands as he nipped on the tops of them, listening to the sounds of your blissful whines as he marked up your body. It was like your clothes hid a secret, a wonderful secret that was only between the two of you as you would walk out of his office with your body aching pleasantly.

“Spence..” You mewled, “Can you fuck me please? I need it so badly; I think I might explode.” The last part was meant to be a joke, but you honestly weren’t sure, some truth hiding behind your words as he chuckled against your skin. “So needy,” He tsked, grabbing a handful of your ass and smacking it lightly, “Strip for me then.”

You were quick to stand, shoving down your pants and panties. He lifted his hips so he could slide down his slacks and underwear too, both of you completely bare and vulnerable. You were happy that you remembered to lock the door, mentally patting yourself on the back for your quick thinking.

“How do you want it?” He meant which position. When it came to Spencer, he’d always make sure that you knew that you were in control of everything that was happening around you. “Missionary? I don’t feel like putting too much work in today.” He only rolled his eyes with a smile, but nonetheless stood as well so that you could lay down. “I sure hope you have disinfectant wipe for this couch.” You said playfully, opening your legs so that he could line himself against your opening. “I always come prepared.” And with that, he entered you, the stretch a pleasant pain as heat shot up your spine. Your nails dug into his biceps, a moan exiting you, a groan coming from the doctor.

“Fuck, Spence you can move, please.. I please-“ You were rendered speechless as he moved inside of you, leaning off of your body so that he could lean on the back of his calves, arms wrapped around your large thighs, his palms sinking into the skin of your inner thighs. “So good, so fucking good for me.” He praised, the beat of his thighs marking your flesh. The sting pushed you deeper into pleasure as you grabbed desperately at the leather material below you. You were for sure going to leave streaks, but it didn’t seem to bother you or him.

Your chest heaved, Spencer pulsing deep inside of you as you clenched around him, selfishly sucking him in as if putting him in a trance. “Shit. You keep doing that and this won’t last long.” He grunted, hips stuttering at your squeeze. “I don’t- I don’t care.” You huffed out with a smile. You could feel him glaring at you as you did it again, but all you received was a choked sound from him, rendering him silent. With every bruising drag that he delivered to your g-spot drug you closer to your orgasm, and you knew that he knew too.

“Let’s cum together.” He just nodded, his hair sticking to his forehead, a bead of sweat dribbling down his chest and in between his pecks. Your back felt undeniably sticky as it stuck to the sofa. Yeah, you were going to need to take a spritz shower after this.

Your legs spasmed before your vision went white, the feeling of Spencer emptying inside of you was the only thing keeping you hooked to reality as you had begun to come down from your orgasmic bliss. He pulled out of you gently once he had gone soft. You groaned, looking at him as he searched around his office for a few articles of your clothing. You couldn’t help but let out a little snort at the sight of Spencer’s bare butt on show as he actively avoided the large, open windows.

“Are you making fun of me?” He rasped with a smirk. You just laughed, shaking your head as you sat up.

“I would never, Doc.”

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love

[wannab-urs]

Pedro Pascal Character Fic Recs | Vol 37

AO3 | Kofi | Main Masterlist | The Spreadsheet Masterlist

Howdy folks!

Welcome to my bi-weekly fic rec list! This is everything I read in the last two weeks. It's... a lot. I did March Fic Madness and also just was generally in a reading mood so there's like 40 fics here. They're in alphabetical order by boy.

All info provided by the author unless it was blank, in which case I filled it in.

Constellations in his eyes

Dave York one shot by @janaispunk

Your fiancé stands you up on your birthday. Dave doesn’t.

infidelity, shitty boyfriend, angst, fluff, kissing, able-bodied reader, reader has hair, no use of y/n

What Love Means

Dave York one shot by @ravensmadreads

Dave has a panic attack and you help him through it

So David is probably ooc (but this version of him is my comfort character sorry), description of a panic attack, mentions of canon violence, and like the barest hint at smut.

The Mess of Us

Dave York one shot by @ravensmadreads

I gave david york my heart and then proceeded to bash it with a sledgehammer - forgive me :p this is the same universe as What Love Means

vague smut, lots of angst (i mean i tried), almost entirely canon compliant, vague-ish attempt at smut, mild cursing, insane use of italics.

The One

Dieter one shot by @schnarfer

If one thing had been different, would everything be different today?

Bit of emotional torment, drink and drugs references, Dieter POV, happy ending? Always Fleabag coded.

Purple Haze

Dieter one shot by @schnarfer

that boy put a spell on you

1960’s London Dieter Bravo AU, heavy on the British slang, explicit alcohol and drug references, reader is a model but no physical descriptions, outfit descriptions, swearing, sort of enemies to lovers if you squint, smut; protected PIV, light bondage, reader is in control and Dieter is a subby puddle, pet names (angel, doll, darling), light dirty talk, playful slaps. Just a note we’re always very Fleabag coded here.

House Arrest

Dieter one shot by @rulexofxnines

Dieter stays over at your place out of desperation. Things get out of hand so you take control of the situation.

forced proximity, only one bed, a goat

The Howler Monkey

Dieter one shot by @covetyou

You got him here, he was safely tucked away upstairs and everything was going, mostly, according to plan. So, who the fuck is screaming?

no smut but some nudity, implied drug use/addiction, little bit silly, mildly angsty, performance anxiety, screaming, Dieter Bravo's soft cock. basically mild hurt/comfort/fluff with my usual bit of silliness.

Vampire!Dieter

Dieter one shot by @chronically-ghosted

Interview with a vampire, gatsby style

flirting, a bit of blood, maybe dubcon due to The Thrall but i think it's safe to say we all want It from vampire!dieter, unbeta-ed because i needed to write something or someone was going to die

Brick House

Dieter one shot by @nerdieforpedro

Dieter buys a house for you and the baby

mention of past drug use, fertility issues, mention of sperm donation and clinics, false pretenses, Dieter might be a bit obsessed or a lot

Stay sexy and don't get murdered

Dieter one shot by @chronically-ghosted

Trapped behind a secret wall to hide from a murderer, the close proximity forces you and Dieter to confront feelings you rather bury underneath your case to prove your favorite neighbor didn’t commit suicide.

brief moments of tv-appropiate terror, arguing, mentions of suicide, mentions of death/murder, but more importantly: smut (like half of this is smut), oral (f!receiving), dieter’s bare ass nearly catching on fire, too many feelings for something that started as a crack fic idea

Fare Well

Dieter one shot by @nerdieforpedro

Dieter has been working so hard. He still has an issue that might be because of his mind. What can he do about it? Do anything else.

unhealthy coping, sexual dysfunction, sex work, teasing, pet names, sexual activity (actual and implied I think? I should know. 🙃)

A poor plan to confess

Dieter one shot by @nerdieforpedro

Dieter is doing his best to stay sober. You have a large part in his plans. They aren’t well thought out.

Dieter being a bit rude, porn use, mention of masturbation, teasing, improper toy use?, very bad communication, some mentions of sexual activities and acts, Nerdie is unsure of what she wrote

Conversation Pit

Dieter one shot @thosewickedlovelies

You’re viewing a mansion with Dieter, and it has a conversation pit. Does he have the discipline to keep his hands to himself?

friends with benefits, SMUT: Dieter’s favorite dom appears 👀 could it be someone we know?; mmf threesome, piv sex, semipublic sex but don’t worry, edging (m receiving), references to sex work

Lush

Din one shot by @the-scandalorian

Mando makes regular visits to the healing baths.

touch-starved Din; reader is blindfolded; smut

Immortal By Design

Din one shot by @beskarandblasters

Din Djarin picks up a mysterious job at the Bounty Hunter’s Guild from a high paying client that specifically requested him. Once he tracks down the bounty, he discovers two things— you tracking the bounty for different reasons entirely and a lot more than he bargained for.

reader is able-bodied, canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), no Grogu in this universe, possession, cursed object, dark!Din, monsterfucking (I think), Din has heightened capabilities, dub con/noncon, restraints, reader gets captured, oral sex (M and F receiving), rough oral sex, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, mir’sheb = smart ass, character death, no use of y/n

Enchanted to Meet You

Din one shot by @beskarandblasters

You’re a senator for the New Republic and tonight you’re forced to attend the New Republic Gala. Senator Xiono won’t leave you alone but that in turn leads you to meet Mando, a security guard at the event. And that leaves you wonderstruck.

Reader is able-bodied, canon divergent, reader has consumed alcohol, creepy guy at the gala, fingering, semi public sex, vaginal sex, pull out method, pet names (cyar’ika, mesh’la), no use of y/n

I don't mind bleeding

Din one shot by @quicksilvermad

You and the Mandalorian have a mutually beneficial relationship—he pays your rent and you feed him when he needs fresh blood.

vampire!Din, blood, PIV sex, biting, sex work, second person POV, AFAB Reader, one instance of "good girl", aftercare

Bound

Din one shot by @frannyzooey

It’s your thighs he’s bound this time — not your hands for a change.

smut, bondage, AU

Hello to the Green

Ezra one shot by @the-blind-assassin-12

Down a ship, a crew, and a working air filter, and suffering from a rapidly worsening infection, Ezra makes one last ditch effort to get home. And he hopes it’s enough.

language, angst, injury and illness, death

Paint With Me

Frankie one shot by @bitchesuntitled

You have a crush on the dad of your daughter’s best friend.

Sexual innuendos and cursing

Right on Cue

Frankie one shot by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

The quiet bartender lends you a hand after you've closed up for the night.

reader is able-bodied but otherwise undescribed. Oral sex f receiving, protected PIV, that's pretty much it. this is just PWP

Door Number Three

Javi G drabble by @morallyinept

Javi shows you what he keeps behind that mirrored door

Character talk alludes to sexy things.

Dámelo

Javi P one shot by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

You want more. Javi wants to give it to you. You just have to give him something first.

mutual masturbation, vaginal fingering, aftercare. reader is able-bodied but otherwise undescribed.

Dress Up Joel

Joel series @covetyou

when a mysterious stranger breaks into your house, and keeps breaking into your house, he gives you the fright, and the ride, of your life. Welcome to your seasonal encounters with one Mr. Joel Miller.

sex toys, dress up, festive/seasonal shenanigans, no use of Y/N, see individual fics for additional warnings

He Knows

Joel/Tommy one shot by @psychedelic-ink

Joel knows you have a little thing for his younger brother so decides to indulge you for your birthday.

gonna state this very clearly: joel gets cucked by tommy and watches, everyone is consenting and it's discussed beforehand, piv, dirty talk, possessive!joel, daddy kink, size kink, established relationship between joel and reader, jealousy, some brotherly rivalry, facial, mild degradation kink, creampie

Does Your Mother Know

Joel one shot by @beskarandblasters

Joel finds a pretty young thing on the beach to spend some time with on his vacation.

reader is able-bodied, reader wears a bikini & a dress, no outbreak AU, ambiguous beach location, both reader and Joel consume alcohol, age gap (20 years), oral sex (F and M receiving), semi public sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, reader is on birth control, pet names (sweetheart, baby), no use of y/n

Tear You Apart

Joel one shot by @mermaidgirl30

Joel comes for you late at night. He always does. Always stalks, chases, and prowls after you like a starving wolf. And when he catches you, he devours you, feeds on you like the animal he is. Will you run and hide or will you give into the temptation that calls you in the forest?

Dark themes, Little red riding hood references, dark! Joel, Joel is a menace, oral, fingering, choking, unprotected P in V, cream pie, filthy smut, degrading actions, not really violent but lots of dark themes, manipulation, rough sex, dirty talk, Joel calls reader little lamb, possessive Joel, feral! Joel, post outbreak! Joel, controlling Joel, dom! Joel, submissive reader, Joel x fem! reader, Joel is in his late 40’s and reader is in her late 20’s

inhale, exhale

Joel one shot by @sp00kymulderr

This world is not made for intimacy and both of you know it.

Fingering, mentions of sex, smoking (both reader and Joel), canon typical violence mentions, needy!Joel, fear of intimacy. Barely edited as usual.

One Day at a Time

Joel series by @sixhours

Joel becomes a dad. Again

soft!Joel, no really super soft!Joel, Joel is bad at feelings and relationships, Joel is a sap, mostly follows canon, SMUT, gratuitous smut, dubious consent (drunk sex), unplanned pregnancy, fluff, references to past miscarriages, angst, hurt/comfort, romance, age gap (~21 years), childbirth, fluffy baby stuff

mine

Joel one shot by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

You encounter a frightening beast in the forest after getting separated from your group. Instead of killing you, he spares your life - the first of many surprises from this mysterious creature.

it's Joel Miller as a humanoid monster beast creature with a massive cock idk what you want me to say, creative liberties with anatomy and bodily fluids, they're soulmates because I wrote this so of course they are, monster!Joel can talk a little but it wouldn't kill him to watch a few episodes of Reading Rainbow or do some alphabet flash cards tbh, one curious use of an aquifer as a metaphor

Only Heaven I'll Be Sent To

Joel one shot by @freelancearsonist

Joel finds a familiar face while out on a smuggling run.

Rated PG for pure angst, one single kiss, and references to Joel's self-inflicted gun wound/self harm

Ahórcame, Papí

Joel/Frankie/Ezra one shot by @marisferasiop

After he gives a recovering addict a job (and subsequently falls head over heels for him), Joel and Frankie have a sweet, fulfilling relationship as Daddy and little exploring their kinks. Then, they meet Ezra at a leather club, another damaged vet with his own issues and kinks. They take him home, and he never really leaves.

Daddy Kink, Daddy/littles, pup kink, Breathplay (hands on throats), Orgasm Denial, Orgasm Delay, Orgasm Control "Training", Light BDSM, Aftercare, Soft Dom Joel, vers Ezra, Bottom Frankie Morales, Oral Sex, Cockwarming, AnalSex, Anal Play, Anal Plug, Breeding Kink, Heat/rut kink, PTSD mention (vets), gags, fingering, choking, cum eating, prostate milking, fucking machine mention, the elusive "sissygasm"

On the Verge of a Usual Mistake

Lucien/Dieter two shot by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

You've been avoiding your exes Dieter Bravo and Lucien Flores all night at this event, but you're forced to come to terms with how things ended in both relationships when they seek to right their wrongs.

this is truly just porn with minimal plot (I'm so proud of myself lol), Dieter and Lucien are messy exes, threesome activities, Twister but with genitalia, Daddy and Papi kinks

In shades of gray and candlelight

Marcus P one shot by @freelancearsonist

Nothing good starts in a getaway car, but you sure do have fun delaying the inevitable.

artist!reader my beloved (reader is able-bodied, basic female anatomy and feminine pronouns used, reader is described as having hair that is long enough to be put up but otherwise she’s a blank slate), unprotected p in v sex, cum swallowing, creampie, semi-public sex acts, oral (r + m receiving), handjobs, fingering, very light switchy dom/sub dynamics, a couple spanks, pet names (sweetheart, pretty girl, baby, honey), heavy praise kink, light size kink, consent king!marcus, just like the song it does not end happily

headshots

Marcus P series by @secretelephanttattoo

You're a photographer and you get a job working for the FBI, taking corporate headshots. On your first day, you run into a handsome Special Agent. The series follows their relationship.

Fluff. Smut. PIV. Romance. Flirting. So much kissing. Non-stop nuzzling. Tiny bit of angst. Marcus in his plaid shirts. Marcus on a motorbike. Skiing. A cameo. Sex talker Marcus.

The Infinity Cube

Marcus P/Various series by @littlemisspascal

When you play with a strange cube, you’re transported out of your current reality with your boyfriend Marcus into brand new ones starring alternate versions of your boyfriend who look and act entirely different every time. With each encounter, you start to wonder if you’ll ever make it back to your real universe?

language, fluff, angst

12:32 PM

Marcus M one shot by @dancingtotuyo

Marcus likes to think he's moved on with life.

Grief, loss of a spouse (Wife), fluff

Given a name

Oberyn/Ellaria one shot by @missredherring

"This would be your greatest indulgence?" He asks, the edges of his beautiful mouth curling into a pleased grin. / How like a man to inflate his importance. It’s a pity that he isn’t wrong. / This will be my greatest selfishness.

Angst. Mentions of canon character deaths. Allusions to Greek mythology cos I'm a nerd. Reader chooses a name for herself.

Innocence need not tremble

Pero one shot by @brandyllyn

"I told you I don’t know how to fuck a maiden."

smut. PiV. starts rough. but gets better.

Cherry Wine

Whiskey one shot by @julesonrecord

Your marriage to your high school sweetheart has been hell for a long time, but when Jack discovers your awful secret, it all comes pouring out like a wine stain on the carpet. What do you find in the dregs?

MDNI; DDDNE; hurt people hurting people, domestic violence (verbal, physical, off stage neglect), there's a mention of human urine omg I'm truly horrified that survived the editing process, off stage drug use as a coping mechanism, alcoholism, infidelity, grief due to miscarriage/child loss, oblique suicidal ideations ("you should have killed me"); explicit smut; dirty talk; piv; fingering; possessive!Jack; emotional resolution?

[jarofstyles]

FICTOBER DAY 23 - Don't Hide That Smile

some cute comforting H <3 sorry for being days late my loves

FICTOBER

Patreon

----------------------

“Y/N…. Come on.” Harry pleaded. “I think that got a smile out of you, don’t hide it away!”

It did, in fact, get a smile out of her. But the absolute fail of a costume had made her very, very upset at first.

In hindsight, Y/N knew that attempting a full costume as a first sewing project was ambitious to say the least. What was supposed to be a floor length gown ended up looking like a giant tube, the seams wonky and her poor attempt of dying the fabric last minute making the fabric look like it had been a weird bleach accident. It was the night before halloween and they’d had a check in, Harry wanting to see and Y/N bursting into tears when he’d aside to see the finished product. 

To make matters worse, she had pretended she had it all under control. To a fashion student Harry. She’d wanted to impress him, but she had made a fool out of herself and told Harry she was a phony, which he quickly reassured she wasn’t and thought it was cute she wanted to impress him. When he’d asked to see it, if maybe he could help fix it, she assured him he couldn’t, but it still didn’t help when his reaction to the dress had been a wide eyed “Oh….” 

That had sent another bout of tears, making Harry panic at now being the source of them, so he tried to mend his error. 

“I didn’t mean a bad, oh!”

“I mean, I’m shocked but I wasn’t trying to be mean!” 

“It isn’t awful, please don’t cry. 

“Babe, it’s camp… no. It’s French.”

The reference to Fleabag made her crying stop for a moment, trying not to laugh. She still felt like a failure when he gently dragged her hands off of her face and tried to wipe her tears, frowning as he really didn’t like to see Y/N upset. No one would. She looked so sad and heart wrenching when she cried, her eyes rounding and the little pout- no. 

“I-It can’t be saved, Harry. I watched project runway and i thought I could do it cheaper but-but its so hard to sew on the little machine I got and-and fabric is so, so expensive!” That was a fact Harry knew firsthand. No wonder he tries to get thrifted things so often. “I thought helping my grandma when I was younger would have paid off but no. So now I look dumb, I cried in front of you and I’ve got no costume. It’s too late to go gething now, they’re all gonna suck.” She sniffled, making his heart throb when her sad look hit him. 

He couldn’t lie- the dress was bad. Awful. He didn’t know how she overestimated or cut the length so long, or why the ruffles were sewn over each other or how the bodice was crooked, but somehow she had created an atrocity. But it was abstract, if you’d want to think of it that way- and god, he needed to to calm her down. Functionally, the dress was useless, but in a matter of art, anything could be good. 

There was no way he wouldn’t be flattered that she had done this to impress him. It was beyond cute and sweet and he just wanted to squish her cheeks and kiss her little lips but he held it together. “It’s okay, sweets. You aren’t dumb, we’re all set with the crying now, and we can find you a costume. It’s totally okay. We can match…” He tried to think of what else they could be. Their original was prince and princess, but he had to think on his toes. Looking around, he prayed for inspiration and to actually be quick on his feet sometimes- and thankfully it was answered as he looked at her muted TV. 

“Pam and Jim!” he exclaimed. “Yes- you have the things to be the cat, I can do the paper shirt thing. What do you think?” 

Y/N seemed to mull it over, sniffling again as her eyes scanned Harry’s face. That had been quick, but… “That’s a good idea.” She smiled slightly, making him sag with relief. He couldn’t handle seeing her sad. “A-are you sure, though? I know it’s a downgrade from the other costume we planned. I’m sorry.” Y/N really did feel stupid about it but it really didn’t seem like Harry minded.

“Not a big deal, baby. Promise.” His hands smoothed her hair back, smiling lightly down at her. Halloween wasn’t his thing and he had agreed to go to the costume party with her so he’d made his costume, but he was sort of relieved considering his prince outfit could get a bit hot. “All that matters is we’re going to be together and ditch Niall’s as soon as we’re ready eat our body weight in sweets. I ordered that variety bag, y’know?” 

Her eyes lit up at the mention, making her nod. “Does it have Kit-Kats?” She whispered, her grin widening when he nodded back. “Okay. It sounds good to me then.” Her face plastered to Harry’s chest, body sagging in relief. The secret was out, the embarrassment was over, and now she could finally breathe again. Although.. “When he said he was going all out for the pe party.. I just really hope Niall doesn’t get one of those fog machines inside the house. You can’t breathe with that stuff on”

“About that….” Harry hissed, pretending to wince. 

“For fucks sake. Maybe we are ditching super early.” “I’ve got no problem with that.”

[blackbloodedisabel]

DOCTOR who. Thoughts 🐮

REST IN PEACE ruby sunday I hope you return for a special or finale or something next season... you were TOOO iconic to keep.... leashing the god of death..... real hot girl shit and I wish you would come back. come back. come back. come back.

reveal that sutekh had been here the whole time made me giggle. was he watching when amy and rory were creating river. I must know. FUCK all the mysteries we didn't get an answer for (ruby making snow, mrs flood etc etc) this is my only question after the episode

mel💕💕🤩😋😋💗🥰 she's stronger than me for getting nostalgic about six's coat/cravat I would have let the fire take it

TALES OF THE TARDIS REFERENCE!! I lost my mind btw.

also russel t davis is sick and twisted for putting mrs flood in a romana coat with a missy umbrella. he deserves jail time. also is mrs flood god why is she talking about usurping god. what if she's the god of tv. would explain all the 4th wall breaks. I'm twitching

additionally is it just me who thought the woman who played claire in fleabag yk the chaffee woman who gave him the spoon was ruby's mother?? I saw the weird cloak thing the dr was wearing and heard a daughter mentioned and went🤨🤨 but no :( suppose it must be the brainrot oh well. you already heard my semi-joking god of christmas theory. why do carols start playing why is it snowing. anyway!!!

overall enjoyed the ep, ncuti gatwa was very good, everyone was very good yes very good episode I liked it very much when will the next season be out.

what did you think xx

[lastweeksshirttonight]

Did you want my notes on Strike Force Five episode one? No? TOO BAD! YOU'RE GETTING THEM!

(Heavy spoilers for episode 1 if you plan on listening soon!)

- I love the show's overall vibe and the "roles" that all of the guys play. It's definitely a free-wheeling, off the rails kind of show, where everyone is rambling over each other; the personalities involved can make or break this kind of podcast, and everyone thankfully is playing to their strengths.

Kimmel serves as the overall show runner and is seemingly the only one endeavoring to keep anything on track, which is a slightly thankless job with this group, but he's got a soundboard and all his radio experience guiding him. Colbert also leans into being the other "elder statesman", as it were, but is much easier to derail (and provides his own episode eclipsing derail I'll talk about later). Fallon is surprisingly reserved and a bit awkward - I'm not the hugest fan of Fallon, but in this podcast, that energy serves him pretty well. Kimmel introduces Seth as "the cute one" and he seems the most neutral so far, just there to ask questions and crack jokes. And John is their super sarcastic "evil teammate" who occasionally interjects to just destroy everyone. Perfect dynamics, 10/10, no notes.

- Seth qualifies his eyes as ocean blue. John says they're Gatorade blue. I don't think I've ever laughed harder at a description of someone's eyes.

- There's a point where I assume there must have been a really blunt edit, because Fallon changes the topic abruptly to having a doctorate. Otherwise, I love the image of Fallon just sitting on that revelation and WAITING, BURSTING to talk about how he has a doctorate, while everyone else talks about Kimmel getting paid summers off.

- Everyone mention multiple times that they have sponsors and are doing this show to help pay their staff during the strikes, which is lovely. This does not mean they aren't taking the piss out of their sponsors. I never thought I'd hear worse ad copy reading than I do on The Jeff Gerstmann Show (I love Jeff, don't get me wrong, but his ad copy screaming is hilariously bad), but the Casamigos ad in this is something else. John spends most of his reading time shitting on a bleeped-out competitor that he calls "not fit for human consumption", Stephen says "you're gonna wanna wipe your ass with it" and likens it to the smoothness of sheets you make love on, there's a disembodied "woo" at some point, Seth stumbles all over a few Spanish words, and Fallon delivers his lines in his awful fake French Timothee Chalamet puppet voice. It's pure chaos and I love it so much.

- Kimmel referring to "the despicable Matt Damon" made me so happy.

- John has never done a deposition. Kimmel saying "I'm surprised you're not in prison" gets lost which is sad, that's a fucking hilarious joke.

- Fallon tells an amazing story about his mom being a nun for a week. She left after being reprimanded for taking Lifesavers into the nunnery and then left. My late aunt and best friend, who was also a nun, probably would have loved Jimmy's mom, as she was always going on wine tastings and picked the order she joined entirely based on who would let her continue to drink after taking her vows. Jimmy also has a picture of his mom dressed as a nun holding a doll dressed as a nun, which is absurd and adorable.

- This leads to everyone but Seth confessing that they'd all thought about becoming priests at some point. That doesn't shock me about Stephen at all, tbf, knowing how religious he is.

- I have to shamefully admit that when John mentioned that he told his father he wanted to be a vicar, my brain went to an extremely Fleabag place and I had to rewind the podcast once I snapped out of it and realized I'd missed like 3 minutes of jokes (including a fantastic one from Seth about John having a doll of himself as a child, like Fallon's mom's nun doll).

- "Don't you want a whole new crop of relatives to visit and entertain?" "Do you wanna get cancelled?! :D" The two Jimmys everyone.

- Stephen reveals who he has everyone saved as in his phone, to prevent people from figuring out who his contacts are if his phone gets stolen. John's is Joliver, which 1) was his name as written on TDS scripts to differentiate him from Jon Stewart, and 2) as everyone points out, is a VERY easy code to crack. Don't really need Sherlock for that one.

- ONE OF US ALERT: Stephen collects weird late night shit, like a hat from The Chevy Chase Show (John literally goes "WOW") and a silk jacket from The Pat Sajak Show. I am very jealous of this collection.

- Next episode everyone will talk about first episodes. I cannot wait to hear John talk about how all over the place his first episode is.

- The big story, running joke, and completely wild admission from this episode - Stephen Colbert has a pair of Nicaraguan dictator Anastasio Somoza's pants. Fallon asks how no one outbid him, and it turns out his MOTHER had them BECAUSE SHE DATED HIM. His uncle went to LaSalle Military Academy with Somoza, and Somoza stayed with them during holiday breaks. Everyone else in the room picks up on the idea that Stephen's mom probably slept with a dictator (or as Kimmel says, "made love to a murderer"), Seth claims his mom drinks coffee out of Ferdinand Marcos' skull, and every other male figure Stephen brings up for the rest of the episode is assumed to be someone his mom slept with.

If you asked me before listening to this podcast if I thought there were going to be a pile of elevated "your mom" jokes holding it together, I would have pretty strongly said "no". Surprises at every turn in this pod.

The beginning of this story also captures John SO STRONGLY, and he wants to hear everything about it. Definite Bugle vibes there, this man will never not want to hear about weird dictator facts. He also manages to completely kill Seth by saying "Anastasio Somoza's pants, brought to you by Casamigos".

- Finally, I have already sent an email to the show asking about Planet of the Bass, to make up for my complete failure to ask at the Q&A. I got y'all, we'll get this answer some day.

[wifetomegatron]

here's to peace ( and those who get in the way of it ) ( first aid / reader )

summary : first aid has dinner with your family for the first time. first contact au pairing : first aid (idw) / gn! reader fandom : transformers idw continuity, more than meets the eye rating : m for mature due to mentions of blood and cursing, generally safe for work (sfw!) warnings : human ignorance. mentions of blood. tags : rewatched the awkward family dinner scene in fleabag and i didn't realise how much i loved it. deeply inspired by that scene, if you're it familiar with it, go have a good laugh and see it. i tried to be funny. idk if it works though.

There's a moment when you were sure that the sinking, churning feeling in your stomach would actually rise and push bile out of your mouth. That the sudden awkwardness in the air, pulled taut by the prolonged silence, will snap and cause your eyes to roll back — fainting would be a great distraction to get you and your boyfriend out of this agonizing position: a formal dinner with your family. 

You've been putting it off for weeks, declining their calls and sneakily texting your sibling back with the brightness of the screen down to zero while First Aid dozes off next to you. Eventually, he confronted you about it —  of course , he would find out. Attentive, doting, First Aid, who would scrub the apartment spotless every Sunday until no speck of dust survived, would find out. The grenade was already in your hands, the pin in your mouth like an apricot seed — and nearly sparked an argument about how you were ashamed of him. You had to calm him down and explain that it wasn't him you were ashamed of. It was the fact that your family told everyone that you were  dating a car . ( " Unfortunately, I can't turn into anything at the moment.") And to think that it's been nearly a decade since first contact, and they still couldn't find anything wrong with calling him an android. To make matters worse, they were referring to the Samsung  tablet —

" Ahem."

You were pulled out of your thoughts, and he gave you a reassuring squeeze, trying to level his vocalizer even if he was sitting as stiff as a rock next to your father. 

" Thank you, for having me here."

And like a kid who threw a rock at a sleeping hive of bees, the table buzzed to life, unapologetic to the fact that they've been staring in stunned, shameless, silence ever since you both arrived in the restaurant — which was, you glanced at your watch, fifteen minutes ago.

" Are you sick, love?" Your stepmother asked him. First Aid looked in your direction, confused until she gestured ( fingers a little too close ) to his mask.

" Oh no... this is just how I...look like."

" Well you're not at the hospital anymore," She chuckled through her teeth, smile stiff and voice so chirpy they grate your ears, " You can, you know, take it off."

" No, it's fine" You interrupted, " It's not a big deal." 

The rest of the people were looking at the menu, brow knitted and deep in thought as if they weren't just choosing whether to get the lamb shank or the vegetarian option for the starters. Cowards.

" It's a bit rude to have the shades and the mask when you're inside." She insisted.

" It's ruder to impose stupid, ignorant customs onto others."

You had to grit your teeth to get the words out. There was a brief pause, and you had to trace the seams on First Aid's arm to calm yourself, focusing on how the light bounced off his armor. And as if slinking back into her cave, retracting her claws, she swallowed the sour look on her face as it flickered back to a faux grin — nose scrunched and teeth bared.

 " Oh silly me. I do apologize."

First Aid let out a shy chuckle, " It's fine I understand —"

" I didn't mean to assume you had a mouth or eyes for that matter. Biology under all that...must be different."

Your stomach dropped. You could have sworn something lagged inside First Aid.   

" It's so lovely to have you here, darling! " Your sibling pans in your direction and smiles, trying to salvage the shattered pieces of the atmosphere, considering that your stepmom had  brutally  whacked a sledgehammer through it. The night is young. You were hopeful. You can count on them to say something reasonable —

" Considering your dating history, I just want to say that it's so refreshing to see you dating someone who's...not human! Diversity in relationships, after all, is the spice of life. Love wins."

Nevermind.

Your father cleared his throat — choked on his wine was more like it. Your sibling's partner talked over them before you could interfere: " Hear, hear! Humans are more compatible with your kind anyway. We're too emotional and fickle-minded. Dating metal must be a real upgrade from your previous relationships. They don't come with the messy, human baggage."

" That's a stereotype," You snapped, lowering your voice once a few heads turned to look, " So you're saying he's incapable of expressing his emotions? Because he's not human?" 

" Now you're just putting words into my mouth. I never said —"

" Do you need anything ?" The needy waitress interrupted, hovering around your table every ten minutes. You wiped your face with both hands. A cluster of arms flew to order drinks. The cutlery was noisy against the table. A headache formed in the back of your skull, and all you could do was anchor yourself to First Aid's palm as they massaged the small of your back. It was too much. The waitress called you twice and you lifted your head to order vodka, and then she gives you a pretty smile and accidentally asks First Aid wine or champagne.

Fuck. It was too late.

When he said no, your sibling-in-law and his disgusting, lazy excuse of a mouth were quick to joke, " What, you're not gonna offer the guy some oil?"

Immediately, at the same time, your father and First Aid placed a hand on your shoulder. Fingers and servos brushed against one another to calm you down, but it turned awkward, and your father pulled back a little too quickly, looking at the ceiling while First Aid crumbled like a wounded puppy. You want to reassure him that your old man's just socially constipated, but you feel the air rush past your lungs. The room felt hot. If there was an invisible camera, tucked away into the corner of the room, you would've stared at it for the crew to stop rolling. It's a shame that life isn't as simple. Or cheesy. And there wasn't a laughing track to wash away the discomfort suffocating everyone like waves bubbling into foam against the shore.

And that was how you ended up in the washroom scrubbing the bloodstain off your clothes. Water splashed all over the sink and onto the floors as you wiped the red pouring down your mouth, your chin, and even your neck. There was talking outside, and you held back tears, remembering the nervous phone call First Aid had with Ratchet in the evening before you had left the house. He told everyone. Your sweet, sweet boy had asked his CMO a week before about getting off early on Friday to meet your family. He told Velocity. He told Ambulon. Hell, Rodimus knew. And whether out of formality for being his previous captain or out of a severe case of 'never knowing when to mind his business', he had phoned your place and wished him luck. 

There was a knock.

" Can I come in? "

You slowly turn to your lover, nodding and finally bursting into tears. He hugged you tight, and you clenched your eyes shut, too ashamed to look at him. He was so gentle it was almost painful. Blood stained his shoulders. You know he's itching to wipe it off. Yet he stood still, steadying your shoulders with both hands. If he understood you less, you would've apologisedBut it was a wordless exchange between the two of you. Always. Only when you've stopped withering did First Aid speak.

" That went well."

You scoffed, " They're idiots."

" But you love them. And you should continue to have dinner with them. Meet them. Talk to them."

You frowned. You don't even know what's going on out there. But from the marks on First Aid's servo, he must have patched up the bleeding, bruised (hopefully not broken ) nose you had given your sibling-in-law. And knowing him, probably also helped ease your father back on his feet after you had accidentally knocked him down amid your little scuffle.

" I'll even go with."

You shook your head incredulously, " Why would you ever want to repeat this?"

" Because they apologized." His tone was soft, quiet almost as he stroked your hair, " And I'm sure, this won't happen again."

" Be realistic."

" At least it won't at least end like this. I know it."

Sometimes loving First Aid was like looking directly into the sun. You can't help but look away, eyes sore and heart bloated with hope. He pulled his mask down and kissed the discomfort away, and for a brief moment, you almost forgot that you still had people outside.

" If it makes you feel better, your stepmom apologized first."

" Really?" You pulled away from him to search his expression, mildly impressed, " And she didn't follow it up with anything?"

" Well, she did say life in the berth — erm, bed room, must be so interesting when you've got so many cables to choose from. She said it must've been a letdown for me to find out you've only got one port."

" Oh, fuck me."

[strawberry-skies-xx]

13, 20, & 22 for the fic asks! fic i choose for 22, of course, that fucked up girl <3 and the mori dazai fic w the matcha tea....both fics have me by. CHOKEHOLD

*walks in 2 days late w iced coffee* that reblog spree on your blog is bc i couldn't find the og post btw and i had the (naive) hope you didn't reblog shit at the speed i did

13. Do you prefer writing multi-chapter fics or single-part fics? Do you prefer reading multi-chapter fics or single-part fics?

i prefer reading AND writing multi-chapter fics, bc its so much fun to explore stuff. however. The Horrors. i can dream about writing a multi-chapter fic all i want but it doesnt mean ill ever finish it (rest in piece my fleabag fyozai fic that's infamous on my bsd server bc i never shut up about it. also the fyozai betrayal AU fic. pensive emoji.)

20. Which fic have you put the most work into? Which fic have you put the least work into?

you make miette search through 84 published works for this...

the fic i'd say i've done the most research on is this one (mafia Dazai training Akutagawa) but the fic i've put the most work into being really good and me liking it has to be this one. its not BSD, but its a character study of a guy from another fandom and his interest in death and passive suicidality. i spent 3 days postponing every single other obligation other than food and just sat in bed writing this. 4th day i did nothing but chores and then i didnt write anything else for a week lol

least work is hard bc i have a philosophy that i can do whatever i want forever so i Will just write something in an hour and post it with no research, all pure self-indulgence. but i'll use a fic i should have done research on: this one. i really should've planned that out better. idk if anyone still follows me for httyd or has read that fic of mine but i do plan on rewriting it someday

22. Have you used any symbolism in [insert fic]? What does it represent?

OH boy.

so. fucked-up girl fic actually doesn't Have much real symbolism, only a couple remarks on my headcanons for various things.

today he had to eat an apple whole because he could not pick up a knife-

this one is easy, referencing dazai's suicidality and the fact he is trying. just a slight reference to him actively changing/being unable to do something, and also his issues with food.

He starts targeting.

Dazai is very, very still.

Atsushi backtracks so fast that he stumbles over his words, forgetting entirely Dazai’s contradictory explanations,

little things about dazai's manipulation in everything. boy can't admit shit. he's very roundabout with admitting anything close to himself (why i hc fyodor is so good for him, because they can trade those vague references back and forth and understand each other) and a trait i assign to him is saying vulnerable things in as few words as possible. he doesn't explain stuff.

Dazai’s body aches, and he turns, walks over to his desk, sits down. His clothes constrict.

gender issues but also, as mentioned in my comment on your fic, i hc dazai just hates his body. he has to shower with the lights off sometimes, can get dressed without looking at himself once. he very much dislikes perceiving the fact he has a body.

The ADA thinks that they’re dating. Him and Yosano. 

not symbolism or a hc but this was the premise of the entire fic. the agency thinking dazai and yosano were dating when really dazai just had severe gender envy

“Zai.”

little hc! yosano specifically uses this nickname for dazai when affectionate. atsushi and kunikida don't use any actual nicknames derived from his name; chuuya uses this nickname sometimes; ranpo uses this nickname somewhere between chuuya and yosano bc ranpo is putting in the least effort to get his attention lol

The conclusion is obvious. Dazai should explain that’s not what he means, but he can’t get his mouth to work to speak honestly. 

this whole conversation was the biggest indicator of dazai being unable to elaborate/saying things in as few words as possible. he's not a pathological liar, i just think sometimes it is physically painful to have to elaborate vulnerable things verbally for him. e.g. "it's because you're a woman" and yosano having to debate the fact dazai could be going after her, dazai Knowing what kind of conclusion she'd jump to immediately As a woman, and yet he just cannot explain it further because it is vulnerability. HENCE why i like him and fyodor, because fyodor can make those kinds of connections as quick as dazai can.

"Women are really pretty~”

not a hc or symbolism but. Boy why do you talk about women so much and yet date none of them. almost actively make yourself undesirable to them. Sir. My guy. i know what you are

“There’s a word for it?”

special lil hc i have. the mafia is very open and accepting because they simply have bigger priorities than who's kissing who. mori simply does not give a shit if his agents are consorting or if his lead agent goes from a girl to a guy. he won't provide monetary support and unless it's physically disabling he won't make exceptions to rules, but if he's told that someone's pronouns have changed or whatever he'll go "cool" and change the name/pronouns in all of the system, start using them, and be done with it. his only concern is performance and as far as he cares, sex and gender are irrelevant. (on that note, harrassment isn't tolerated because why are you harrassing them for being gay when you can harrass them for the multiple enemies they didn't kill last mission. cmon now.)

this also comes with the caveat that the kids raised in the mafia aren't really educated on it. they're taught normal class subjects, e.g. math, english, etc. and they're taught mafia protocol, and they're allowed to get their own reading material, but the mafia puts in as much effort to teach them about queer people as they do to teach them about heterosexual people. (they do get sex ed tho, which is basic as ever, and which dazai is a whole menace during)

and dazai, obviously, would not really be that interested in either to read about. being brought in so young, i think he was never really taught bias against queer people, so when he had the revelation that he liked chuuya he was just kinda. oh ok. and when he has the feelings about his body that he doesn't like it, he has much bigger priorities (namely the quickest way to die) than figuring out whatever the hell that is.

so it ends up that dazai just kinda is queer and has no idea what it is. he knows he hates his body and he knows he likes chuuya, probably has some surface level knowledge of gay/bi/lesbian/etc. but otherwise no, he's never sought out specifically to figure out the terms for what he's feeling. he actually really hates perceiving himself in any way lol

He still looks like himself,

this little bit: he hates perceiving himself in any way, but he still wants to be him. he doesn't want to change his name or his reputation or whatever else, he doesn't want to be a different person. he just wants to be a dazai that he likes.

It would look wrong be inconvenient for him, and take so much effort. Just… so much. So much that he can’t handle. Managing himself is hard regularly - adding on this, whatever it is, would be biting off more than he could chew. 

there's a river called de nile-

dazai is denying the fact he thinks being a woman would look wrong because of his years of being in a masculine body like he is, hence the calluses mention. but he also is right, that he wouldn't be able to upkeep it. he has to be in a better spot/it has to be something very slow and gradual for him to be able to keep it up long enough to maintain a desirable appearance. he's sorta using it as an excuse to not do it but also he just doesn't want to put in that much effort into it.

now for the matcha fic!

Very big hc and symbolism for this fic: Dazai's ability.

it is an ability nullifier, and i stand by the idea that abilities have some kind of effect on their user and are somewhat sentient. Atsushi's tiger, for one, is not only a transformation but the shape of the ability inside him, and Kyouka's Demon Snow is a whole being as the ability itself.

so for Dazai, he described it once as an "anti-ability." which. what the hell. whump beams him.

i have the hc that Dazai's ability makes him cold because most ability users can feel their ability hummign beneath their skin. most abilities are warm, alive, and it's like a constant low electric current or adrenaline rushing through them, as omnipresent as a heartbeat or breath. just a fact of being alive is that feeling. so then: when Dazai nullifies other people's ability, they can Feel the absence of it, they can feel very empty and very cold. when Dazai is the host of that nullification ability, it's just that electric warmth reversed. an icy cold, all the time, because NLH is a black hole as opposed to a sun. (all my metaphors relate NLH more to an icy lake, but that's the dichotomy)

i don't ascribe Dazai's emptiness entirely to NLH, but i do think it contributes and that he has a complex about the relationship between his own issues with emotion, empathy, and the fact NLH lives inside him.

and that cold gets much worse whenever Dazai actually does nullify an ability depending on how strong it is/how much is being used at the time, therefore the remark about him making a science on how bad it'll affect him, and that scene about him being overwhelmed by nullifying Chuuya's ability; he miscalculated, and was caught off guard by NLH activating so strongly, esp given his injuries and physical weakness already in that moment

and another little HC: Dazai's hinted to have been in an even worse place before Mori and abilities are said to be activated from trauma. so i like to hc Dazai's ability as activating from the result of being tortured with abilities, from a deep desire to stop the torture, also in some kind of lab setting. and from there, Dazai escaped, and Mori got this very damaged child.

so then, through the matcha fic, Dazai latches onto it because the warmth of the tea chases away the cold of NLH.

another thread through this fic: Mori and Dazai's relationship. i think Mori was trying to keep Dazai alive as an asset to the mafia, and that he never... regretted? bringing him in as much as wished Dazai had never shown up at his doorstep in the first place, because Mori sees the value of his skills way too much to regret using them. but Mori also knows kids aren't supposed to do what Dazai is doing. and he also sees the emptiness in Dazai and all his general issues. so it's this very messy tangle of like. Mori can't care for him like a father because, yknow, mafia boss and Mori himself also has manipulation and control issues, but also he's much fonder of him than most others, even Chuuya. no one else would have been able to get away with all the shenanigans Dazai inflicts on him (that kid bullies mori so hard. it's very comical). Mori is simultaneously training him and raising him in a life-or-death environment for them both and it's so messy.

“I’ll make us all some hot tea!” Atsushi raises an eyebrow, skeptical. “Are you sure you won’t… burn the Agency down, Dazai?”

little note here: i think dazai curates an image of incompetency specifically because of his competency in the mafia. obviously everyone there knows he's actually competent, but he hides just how competent he is. partially to get up to his own shenanigans hiding his mafia connections and whatever else, but also partially because he doesn't want to be known as something like the demon prodigy again.

when it's serious, they know he can hold his own (prison arc) but otherwise. he is faking so much incompetency.

“I’ll make a deal - if you manage to make matcha tea as well as I do, I can get you your own expensive set for the holidays~”

ok listen. listen. the slap that dazai gave atsushi lives rent free in my mind because of the moment of hesitation just before it. everyone villainizes dazai for slapping atsushi while entirely ignoring the brief hesitation just before it.

dazai was both trained (as an agent) and raised (as a teenager) by mori. and oda was not a very good dad either. he doesn't have the best role model, for one. but he's also very self-aware when he's older and i think he can separate "father" mori and "mafia boss" mori in his actions. he knows when mori was trying to raise him and he knows when mori was trying to train him.

now. now guess what dazai is to atsushi. a trainer. and dazai is still taking the place of someone older and more experienced teaching atsushi not only combat skills but also life skills/growing-up skills. and we all saw how dazai got with akutagawa; that was an environment conducive to that kind of treatment, where that was being encouraged.

now the agency doesn't condone physical violence and dazai knows that. and he is very clearly trying to be a good person like oda asked him to. so, with that moment of hesitation, he clearly did not want to slap atsushi. but someone else's post words this better: he got complacent at the agency, forgot mori's ruthlessness, and with the threat against atsushi and release of Q he remembered he couldn't be so complacent and began to slip back into the old mafia thinking as a way to survive.

and with atsushi breaking down and not listening to him, the agency threatened by mori and Q, a threat that made even dazai flinch, i hc he got overwhelmed, knew there was one method that got guaranteed results, knew the agency didn't condone it, but was overwhelmed enough that he just. lashed out in a way he knew guaranteed would work, and would get atsushi to listen to him.

so . very long rant just to say that i think dazai is fighting, a bit, to balance his experience of being trained-and-raised, with him training-and-raising atsushi, but he knows the difference clearly between the two and so he'll cherrypick actions like the deal mori made with the matcha tea.

deep breath. it's been like an hour and a half. jfc. anyway there's your answers hsfdbhsdf i have many many thoughts on dazai

ty for asking!

[buddieisgoingcanon25]

Oliver saying Eddie reacts different to the break up news gay panic??? Dare I say last season Eddie’s plot was vertigo and this one’s gonna be fleabag like Ryan only follow people when they do more than one episode and Gavin the hot priest that is actually called BRYAN very smart the name of the actor who plays Josh canon gay and also close to Ryan anyways Gavin even follows Oliver I just think we could really get that bathena scene callback where Bobby asks Athena to come to church with him or we can easily get Eddie going to that coffee a lot with the priest and just talking to him helps him and so Buck one day follows him and meets the hot priest I mean father Bryan

You could be onto something anon. Although I’m not sure of what the “fleabag” reference means? I don’t watch that show.

[fanhackers]

#writtenbyawoman

A couple of years ago, BookTok and BookTube - the literary subcultures of TikTok and YouTube - started a meme, #writtenbyawoman.  The idea of the meme was that men, as written by women authors, were–well, terrific! Wonderful! Kind, gentle, considerate! To say a man was “written by a woman” was to give him the ultimate compliment: to put him in a category with men like Mr. Darcy, or Laurie from Little Women, or the Hot Priest from Fleabag. This complement has moved past fictional characters to be applied to real men (as in, “OMG he’s amazing, it’s like he’s written by a woman”), as well as to celebrities (e.g. Harry Styles, Timothee Chalamet. Hozier.) 

This is one of those cases where fandom’s hit on an idea that academia has also explored. In the introduction to her 2017 book, Heartthrobs: A History of Women and Desire, historian Carol Dyhouse notes that: 

“The icons of romantic literature — Mr Darcy, Mr Rochester, Heathcliff, or Rhett Butler — were mostly, in the first instance, products of the female imagination. Movie stars and rock musicians acquire and cultivate images that in many cases have little to do with their ‘ real ’ selves. Many of the most successful ‘ romantic leads ’ in the past — Montgomery Clift, Rock Hudson, Dirk Bogarde, Richard Chamberlain, for instance — have been gay. Their performances nevertheless conjured visions of maleness which had women weak at the knees: how do we make sense of this?” 

Dyhouse continues:

What we now refer to as the ‘alpha male’ hero, rugged, square-built with a strong jawline, has never held indomitable sway over feminine emotions. Sensitive types, moody aesthetes, and men exuding androgynous charm have featured equally prominently in the cultural landscape of desire. (1-2)

Even early heartthrob’s like Rudolph Valentino’s character of “The Sheik” were #writtenbyawoman - did you know that he comes from a bestselling novel, The Sheik (1919), written by E.M. Hul (that is, my girl Edith Maud. :D  You go, Edith!) 

Dyhouse’s purview extends from soulmates to vampires to pop stars and of course to David Bowie as the Goblin King. Not a fandom book per se but well worth checking out if your areas of interest include, say, pirates, Adam Ant, or Lord Byron.  

References:

Dyhouse, Carol. Heartthrobs : A History of Women and Desire, OUP Oxford, 2017 

–Francesca Coppa, Fanhackers volunteer

[abiiors]

Stay // M.H.

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: You run into each other again after one year of separation

Warnings: angst, break-ups, it’s just sad. (Also I literally just wrote this so I'm sorry if there are any typos)

Word Count: 800

A/N: Just something I wrote while listening to Robbers on repeat. Sorry about the Fleabag reference but I just had to. 

Masterlist, Series Masterlist

‘...he's begging, babe stay, stay / Stay, stay, stay’

It’s his voice that you hear through the speakers. It’s always his voice, inescapable wherever you’ve tried to go this past year. 

It’s the girl next to you on the bus who keeps blaring his songs through her shitty headphones. You desperately want to get up and move but there’s no other empty seat you can spot. 

So you just turn up your volume as high as possible. 

He begged you to stay, didn’t he… it’s a very unhelpful part of your brain that’s trying to guilt-trip you. 

But you had to experience life outside of his gravitational pull, outside his limelight. 

You press your forehead to the cool glass window, trying to drown out the remnants of his voice. The bus jostles a bit, making you open your eyes once again. And there it is -

“The 1975 - At Their Very Best”

It’s his face on the poster. It’s always his face, inescapable wherever you’ve tried to go this past year.

You try to focus on the faces of the three other boys. There was an almost friendship there—something budding that you could have nurtured. 

The light turns green, the bus moves again. You refuse to stare at the billboard anymore. 

***

‘The bar feels more crowded than usual,’ your coworker remarks 

It’s New York, the bar is always going to be crowded. 

‘Yea, I heard there’s some famous band that’s just come in,’ the other chimes in. 

It’s New York, there’s always some famous band in your vicinity. 

The conversation is quickly getting claustrophobic. You should have never agreed to drinks but your day has been so shit already, you thought nothing else could ruin it. 

‘I’m going to use the loo,’ you beeline before they’ve had the chance to register it.

The bathroom is mercifully quiet—quieter than the outside at least. But you can’t say sequestered here forever. Sooner or later, you’re going to have to go out again. 

You fix your lipstick (it’s not smudged), wash your hands (you’d already washed them before), anything to stall time. 

Then you walk out with a purpose.

And run into someone.

Both of you let out a small oomph at the impact and step back to assess the damage. 

It takes you a second longer to look up but your entire body goes numb when you do. Matty looks like he’s going through a similar reaction. 

‘Hey,’ you say softly, tentatively. There’s no reason you can’t be amicable with each other. 

‘Hey,’ he mirrors your tone. 

This could be so easy you think. You could just tell you miss him. You could tell him you still love him. 

‘Uh, I didn’t,’ he clears his throat, ‘sorry, we just came in.’

You nod at him dumbly. There are so many things you want to say. The words should practically be fighting to get out right now. But your whole body seems to have shut down.

‘Come get some drinks with us, catch up,’ he offers. 

And even if it sounds so formal and awkward, you want to say yes. The conversation needn’t start with grand gestures, you have time. You both have time. 

Then you hear the camera click.

It dawns on him then, the source of your hesitation and he scrambles to come up with some solution. 

‘It’s not just me, they’re all here,’ he points behind you. You turn around; Adam has his arm slung around Carly’s shoulder. George and Ross look like they’re in the middle of telling the funniest story ever.

‘Unless you would rather not be pictured with me…’ he hesitates. 

‘I’d rather not be pictured at all,’ you laugh, although it lacks any ounce of mirth. 

The hope in his eyes shutters. And suddenly you’re back in London, telling him that you’re tired of this life, tired of moving around constantly. 

Music was his dream, it has always been his dream. He’s trying to beg you to stay, he’s trying to tell you that things will get better but you know they won't. 

‘I will lose my mind like this,’ you tell him. Your voice breaks. His heart breaks.

One year later, you know it’s still the same. You still want a life free of the spotlight and he seems to have gotten bigger than ever. 

‘I can’t…’ there’s a lump in your throat now and speaking around it is getting difficult. 

‘Stay,’ he tries again, ‘please. Just for one drink.’

You shake your head. You can’t let him see the tears forming in your eyes. He’ll never let you go if he sees that. 

His fingers catch around your wrist and a jolt goes down at the contact. 

It shouldn’t be like this. Your body shouldn’t be so ready for his touch.

He doesn’t want to let go, he’s never wanted to let go. Even now as he desperately looks at you with open want. Even now as he clutches your wrist like it’s his only lifeline.

‘I miss you,’ he whispers. 

You remember that one scene from that one TV show you watched a long time ago. 

It’ll pass, you want to say. That’s the kindest thing you could say to him. 

‘I’m sorry,’ you say instead. 

[zalrb]

I’m certain you answered something like this before but I couldn’t find it - I saw on Twitter something like “ship so good they break up without ever getting together/even dating” or something of the like. I was going to ask you which ships do you like that follow that kind of story, but i realized 1) i swear you answered something similar unless I made it up which makes sense with 2) from reading many of your posts, I know that one example of a ship like this for you - fleabag and the priest lol 😆 (to other anons, reading the master list is good even if answers are exactly what you would ask because you can still tell what Zal’s answers would be haha)

(to other anons, reading the master list is good even if answers are exactly what you would ask because you can still tell what Zal’s answers would be haha)

THIS PART.

Also, I'm sure I have answered something like this but I can't find it. So.

As mentioned, Fleabag and Priest

Roman and Gerri

Crowley and Aziraphale

Gwen and Lancelot

Saya and Maria

OK so I never finished The 100 but when I did watch The 100, I was a Bellarke shipper. Over the years, anons have either insisted that I would not be a Bellarke shipper because of the turn Bellamy's character took and or they have insisted that I would remain a Bellarke shipper. They also quasi told me what was happening in the show. So, I don't know, I just know that when I was freaking out about how terrible Darklina was in Shadow & Bone, I referred to Bellarke gifs to indicate what the angst should look like

This might not be the case anymore since they're coming back but Frank and Karen

Amy and Dan

Sue and Kent