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anyroads · 1 year

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OK you know what, if we're gonna talk about Bake Off then fuck it, let's do this.

It used to be this wholesome, lovely show! We used to watch it for the bakers! And the learning! And the light banter and occasional bit of coy innuendo! What happened?

Channel 4 happened. When they bought the show they made a number of changes, most of them Not Good™️. Not just in the sense of them resulting in a lot of 😬 and 🫠 moments, but in the sense of how they changed the show's purpose, atmosphere, and brand.

Look, I know most people are just like, "whatever, it's just a baking show," and yeah, sure. But it's one of the UK's most successful TV exports, and where it once shifted the tone of reality competition to being wholesome and supportive of contestants, it's since moved towards creating tension at the contestants' cost. So aside from the fact that most people watching it signed up to watch a nice show, it has also shifted the goalposts of what that even means. And that, lovelies and gentlefolk, is some bullshit.

I decided to break my rant analysis into four main parts: theme weeks, the hosts, the judges, and the bakers. Let's get to it!

Theme Weeks:

If you watch Bake Off, you know the show's always had a specific theme for each week. The staples that come up in most seasons are:

cake

biscuit

bread

pudding/dessert

pastry

patisserie

Less common but consistent are things like caramel and chocolate week.

Then there are the fun episodes! When GBBO was on the BBC, this started out with things tea week, tarts, pies, tray bakes, basically little tangents still focused on emphasizing specific baking skills. In Series 6 (still on the BBC) they had their first nation-focused theme week with French week -- fairly innocuous given that a lot of patisserie is French, France and England share much more culture than either cares to admit [Norman Flag dot gif], and it was a nice change from watching Paul make the bakers do recipes that involved boiling things while talking about how wonderful boiled doughs are (are they, Paul? Are they?).

The show kept mixing it up with innocuous themes like advanced dough and alternative ingredients weeks, European cakes, Victorian week, batter week, and botanical week. And while it was frustrating to watch Paul Hollywood mispronounce things like the Hungarian Dobos Torta and lecture bakers on babka when he clearly knew nothing about it (or about Jewish baking in general, go off Past Me), the show's general attitude was that the judges had their own opinions, which were separate from the immutable facts around the chemistry of baking (more on this later) and shouldn't affect how bakers are judged.

After the show moved to Channel 4, the number of themed weeks increased and more of them focused on specific countries. In 6 seasons on the BBC, there were only two country-focused theme weeks, and in 5 seasons on Channel 4 there have been five. And while they've also had themes like vegan baking, roaring 20s, the 1980s, spice week, etc. the show has really started to go hard on exoticizing other cultures in outright disrespectful and racist ways. There's been Italian and Danish week, German, Japanese (it wasn't, it was East Asian week), and now Mexican week (which doesn't touch on interspersed Jewish bakes that didn't get a theme week, like versions of bagels and babka set as technical challenges that were borderline hate crimes and mansplained by a guy who has no idea how to make either and once wrote in a cookbook that challah was traditionally eaten during Passover). Each time the hosts played up the theme with racist bits and jokes that can be used as evidence in court if your case is "why should shows with scripted content have a professional writing staff."

Which touches on other issues the show has now...

The Hosts:

When GBBO was on the BBC, the show was hosted by ✨Mel Giedroyc✨ and ✨Sue Perkins✨. They encouraged the bakers! They'd hold stuff for them sometimes! They were interested in them! If a baker had a breakdown, they would start singing copyrighted material to render the footage unusable! When the show moved to Channel 4, they left, though I'm not unconvinced that Channel 4 offered them impossible to accept contracts to force them out so they could rebrand the show. They replaced them with Sandy Toksvig and Noel Fielding. Sandy was a lovely host in the vein of Mel and Sue, and she and Noel had a relatively sweet rapport, but she left a few seasons ago and was replaced by Matt Lucas.

Noel Fielding is mostly known for his quirky brand of comedy, a sort of British Zooey Deschanel who's goth from the neck up, an upperclass British gay divorcee from the neck down, and basically an early 60s Beatle re: trousers. Matt Lucas has almost definitely never watched a single episode of GBBO and his most redeeming quality is his thinly veiled contempt for Paul Hollywood.

The two treat the baking tent as their personal playground. Far from the supportive attitude of Mel and Sue, they tend to get in the bakers' way during the most stressful moments, especially when they try to do hilarious "comedy" bits (I can't not put that in quotes) like Noel's talking wooden spoon thing, or Matt talking over Noel to do time calls. During theme weeks like Japanese and Mexican week, they do culture-specific bits that are both racist ("just Juan joke" and "is Mexico a real place?") and unsurprising, given that both Matt and Noel did blackface on their respective sketch shows and absolutely could and should have known better because it was already the current fucking century.

All this to say, there's now a separation between the bakers and the hosts, as if they're on different shows. The hosts are doing their own thing and the bakers are doing GBBO. The show has gotten meaner to the bakers, and the hosts aren't there to support them anymore, they're just there to be comic relief. Because when you refocus your show on stressing the bakers the fuck out, you need a forced laugh I guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.

The Judges:

First of all, a sincere congratulations to Paul Hollywood who managed to squeeze I jUsT cAmE bAcK fRoM mExIcO aNd YeT sTiLL pRoNoUnCe PiCo De GaLLo As 'PiKa De KaLLa' and I aM aN eXpErT oN s'MoReS wHiCh aRe MaDe WiTh DiGeStiVe BiScUiTs AcCoRdiNg tO mE, aN eXpErT oN s'MoReS, just two in a giant pile of astoundingly wrong hot takes, into a short enough time span that they all aired within Liz Truss's term as Prime Minister. A true man of accomplishments.

In the interest of fairness, I need to preface this with a disclaimer that, due to the fact that I've been watching Bake Off for most of its run, I'm biased. Specifically, I can't stand Paul Hollywood's smarmy, classist, egomaniac ass because he's proven time and again he's more interested in looking smart than actually knowing what he's talking about. Since the show moved to Channel 4, they've changed the occasional handshake Paul would give bakers to the HoLlYwOoD hAnDsHaKe™️. It's gone from being an emphasis of someone's skill to a goal, a reward, and one that emphasizes the judges' place above the bakers.

The judges used to function as teachers, imparting their skills and insights to the bakers. When the show was on the BBC, the voiceover leading to a judging would focus on the bakers' work being finished, saying how it will now be evaluated based on their skill and how well they met the brief. The voiceovers now, on Channel 4, focus on the judging (literally saying something along the lines of, "the bakers will now be judged by Prue and Paul"). There is a clear distinction Channel 4's producers have made, to mark that the show is now about whether or not the judges approve, not whether the brief was understood and executed well. On the BBC, it was irrelevant whether the judges liked a particular flavor, as long as the bake was well-made. Now, the bakers are expected to know the judges tastes and cater to them, which is frankly bullshit. A judge doesn't have to like a flavor to know whether or not it was executed well, ie. is it carrying a bake and was it meant to etc.

The judges have been turned into a brand. Cynically, Channel 4 knows that by building them up and focusing the show more on them, they can exploit their image more for profit. In the process, they've become much more biased and their own biases have come out as well. Most recently in the flaming dumpster fire that was Mexican Week, Paul Hollywood tried to intimidate a baker by telling them he had just gotten back from Mexico (which must have been a fruitful learning trip if he couldn't even learn how to pronounce pico de gallo correctly). Where do I even start with this? Here's an amateur baker from England (the show specifically casts middle and lower middle class bakers for the most part??) who likely can't afford trips to Mexico, who lives in a country with incredibly limited access to Mexican cuisine, who is expected not only to understand the cooking and baking traditions of a completely different culture but to do so well enough to play with it and do something creative with it. On top of which, one of the judges is now using his privilege of traveling halfway around the world as some kind of leverage, as if this were a bar that any amateur British baker could clear.

Prue, meanwhile, has openly asserted her biases against cultural flavors and textures, prioritizing her own personal preferences over them, as if they were in any way relevant to the skills and knowledge necessary to execute the tasks she sets to the bakers. She has also been consistently elitist, criticizing bakers for choices they made that were clearly informed by their experiences within income brackets that are too low and foreign for Prue to comprehend. She once had a go at a baker on a Christmas special because his Christmas dinner themed bake didn't have a turkey, even though it was clear from the stories he shared of his own Christmases that his family likely couldn't afford one. "It's not really Christmas dinner without a turkey," Prue said into the camera angrily while sitting on a chair made of live orphans and telling the ghost of Christmas Future to come back when he had another museum gift shop necklace for her to round out her collection.

The show is no longer about which baker has the best skills. It's become about which mortal can appease the gods of Mount Olympus, ie. the judges.

The Bakers:

Remember when the show was about them? Channel 4 doesn't! Because this is a reality competition show, the bakers are chosen both based on their skills, as well as cast-ability. They're cast as characters, distinct from each other, from different areas, age groups, ethnicities. All of them are amateurs. All of them are middle or lower middle class. They've ranged from college students to supermarket cashiers to prison wardens to scientists.

Something I noticed when the show moved to Channel 4 is that the baker who goes home in the first week is always wildly behind the rest in skills. I have no proof of this other than my eyeballs and deductive reasoning skills, but I think that Channel 4 deliberately casts a ringer each season who they think will be an easy send-off in the first week, just to get the audience's feet wet.

Anyway, like I said, this show used to be about the bakers - about them building skills and learning, and having walked into the tent with a self-taught foundation and understanding of the processes and chemical reactions involved in baking. When the show was on the BBC, the end of each round had some (often brief) moments of tension - will they finish in time? Will they get their bakes on the plate before time is up? Did they forget to add sugar to their batter and only remember at the last minute? In the end, they usually managed to finish and we'd all breathe a sigh of relief and think, yeah! You go, Bakers Who I'm Rooting For!

Now, on Channel 4, the end of round drama has been stretched to be so much longer that they've composed extra music for it. The bakers often seem out of their depth, whether because the instructions for the technical challenge are too vague (bake a lemon meringue pie??? As if anyone in the UK under the age of 60 has had one in the last decade???), or because they were expected to bake something that required a more than a basic foundation they weren't told of. Often it seems like they just aren't given enough time, a tactic used by reality competition shows to manipulate contestants into giving the cameras more dramatic content. On top of all this, the hosts get in their way, instead of helping them plate their bakes. As has been pointed out before, when everyone fails the challenge, the real failure lies with whoever set it.

In conclusion:

The show no longer exists to teach the bakers - and the audience - skills or knowledge. It now manipulates contestants for dramatic effect and prioritizes showing conflict over wholesome content. Channel 4 sees the bakers as social media content they can churn out season after season, and don't care about them because in a few months there'll be a new batch to exploit. Meanwhile, the judges are also out of their depth, co-opting recipes from other cultures and butchering them horrendously, while the camera gives them nothing but status as they hold bakers to the expectation that they learn how to make things very much the wrong way. If you saw any of the tweets about Mexican or Japanese week, or read my post on how Paul Hollywood isn't allowed to go near babka ever again, you'll understand.

So what would fix all this? Scrap the current judges and the hosts altogether. Bring back Mel and Sue, and replace the judges with expert bakers who have a love of their craft and want to share it with others. The draw of GBBO used to be its warmth and comfort - if Channel 4 isn't going to start its own version of Master Chef For Bakers, then it needs to stop trying to find a balance of how it can insert that vibe into GBBO. It can't. That's not a thing. Stop trying.

#GBBO #paul hollywood #prue leith #the great british bake off

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lewisvinga · 3 months

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young and beautiful | oscar piastri x fem! reader

summary; due to her pregnancy, y/n wonders if oscar will always love her, if he will love her after she’s had their baby, after she’s no longer young and beautiful

warnings; mentions of pregnancies (duh), body image, insecurities, reader is mentioned as religious at the end but it will make sense 😣

taglist; @namgification

word count; 1.2k

note; think this is the longest written fic i’ve done lol

‘born to die’ series masterlist !

f1 masterlist !

“What should we ask Daddy to bring us, little bee?” Y/n hums, patting her swollen belly as she rummaged through her closet for her silly pajamas.

Oscar was about to leave a meeting and promised to bring her whatever she wanted. It seemed like the bee, their baby, was craving Mexican food. Y/n hums to a tune as she sends a quick message to her husband before grabbing the silky pink pajamas.

She kept her hands on her stomach out of habit. Now that she was nearing 8 months, her stomach had grown significantly. She missed her small bump from the first trimester, but having a huge stomach was inevitable.

Y/n lets out a deep sigh as she takes off the maternity dress she wore for errands. She glances in the mirror and notices the bright red marks on her stomach. She applied many types of creams to try to avoid getting stretch marks but she couldn’t avoid it.

As much as she loved how hard her body was working for her and her baby, she hated seeing those same red marks. Her mind wandered off to how she was going to look after having her baby.

She’s seen plenty of videos on motherhood. A few talked about how different a mother's body will be after childbirth. Many gain weight and many have loose skin that will stay forever unless they get plastic surgery. She’s also heard stories of women whose husbands or boyfriends left them due to how different their bodies looked afterward.

Y/n began to overthink as she stared at herself in the mirror, dressed in nothing but a comfortable pair of bra and underwear. She knew she would no longer have the body she had before becoming pregnant.

Her skin will be all loose. Her stomach will be all flabby. Her chest will become bigger than usual and most likely end up uneven from breastfeeding. She was absolutely terrified that Oscar would no longer love her.

Even if the Australian driver practically praised the ground she walked on, Y/n was terrified of him leaving all because her body wouldn’t look the same. She hadn’t realized how much time had passed and how her eyes were tearing up until she heard his voice.

“Y/n? Love, where are you?”

“I’m changing!” She calls out in a panic, pushing her thoughts to the back of her head as she rushes to put on her silk pajamas. She rushes out of their shared room and down the stairs. Oscar calls her to be careful as she approaches the dining room.

“Osc! We missed you.” She says with a soft smile, wrapping her arms around him as much as she can despite her belly. He kissed the top head in reply and gently patted her stomach.

“Hope you’re hungry because it smells amazing.” He says with a chuckle, taking the boxes of food out from the brown bag. Her craving for Mexican food quickly covered up her insecure thoughts from moments before.

She had forgotten about them until she had just finished doing her skincare routine before going to bed. She had struggled a bit to lean down to wash her face.

Oscar was quick to notice her mood as she walked waddled back into their shared room. She lets out a huff, laying down on her side beside him, and keeps her eyes on the TV playing some random movie.

“Love, are you okay?”

Silence fills the room as Oscar asks the question. Y/n couldn’t help but tear up at his gentle tone. She felt stupid for overthinking that he could ever leave her when he’d do everything for her, even stopping by the grocery store after getting take out because she only liked a specific vanilla ice cream with her churros.

“It’s stupid.” She mumbles, wiping her tears away before he could notice. Unfortunately for her, he immediately noticed. The McLaren driver furrowed up his eyebrows in concern as he shuffled closer to her, gently wiping away her tears.

“It’s not stupid if it makes you cry, my love.”

“It’s just-“ She began, pausing to take a deep breath. “My body looks so different. I appreciate it for growing our little bee but it’s going to look so different. I already have so many stretch marks and after I have our little bee, my stomach is gonna be all flabby and stretched out!” She cries out, turning to look at an even more concerned Oscar.

“Love-“

“And I’ve heard stories of husbands leaving their wives after childbirth and after getting older and having multiple children. I’m not gonna look the same as I did a year ago, Oscar.” Y/n takes a deep shaky breath, letting the tears go, “I’m scared you’re gonna take a look at me with disgust. Will you still love me after? When I’m no longer young and beautiful? I hope you will. I mean, I know you will. But it’s just-“

“Y/n.” Oscar interrupted her, cradling her tear-stained face with her hands. He wiped away the tears from her rosy cheeks as he gently kissed her. “I will always love you. From a year ago during hot summer nights in mid-July, when we were wild, to a year from now when we’re holding our baby in our arms. Y/n, you’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on. I love everything about you, your pretty face and electric soul. Yes, your body will look different but that’s because you’re working so hard to give our little bee the growth she needs. But I will always love you, when we’re young, when we’re old, and when we’re nothing but souls floating around.”

His words made her tear up even more. He lets out a chuckle, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her in close. “See this?” He questions, holding up his hand and showing the gold ring on his ring finger. “You’re stuck with me forever whether you like it or not, my love.”

Y/n lets out a shaky laugh, sniffing as she uses her tear-stained silk sleeves to wipe her nose. She looks up at him with nothing but adoration. Her face immediately seemed to light up compared to how she was feeling before. She reached up to gently caress his cheek. He was like her sun. He always knew how to make her shine like diamonds.

“Bee and I are so lucky to have you, Osc.” She whispered as she leaned in, kissing his lips softly. Oscar pulled her in as close as he could, deepening their kiss.

“More like I’m lucky to have you.” He whispers against her lips, “I’d be dead without you.” He adds as they pull away. She lets out a small laugh, lightly hitting his shoulder as they settle in bed.

She wasn’t overthinking anymore due to his reassurance. She lay against his chest as they watched the movie that was playing softly in the background.

Y/n started to get tired when she noticed Oscar became fast asleep. She lets out a yawn and gets comfortable against his side but not before whispering a quick prayer.

Dear Lord, when I get to Heaven, please let me bring my man. When he comes, tell me that you’ll let him in. Father, tell me if you can.

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 scenario #formula one scenarios #f1 imagine #formula one imagines #formula one imagine #f1 scenarios #oscar piastri scenario #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader

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radioalpes · 2 years

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youtube

El Rey de la Noche - MIJARES

#el rey de la noche #Saint Seiya #mijares #mexico #mexican #Los Caballeros del Zodiaco #intro #tv #television #series #Shōnen #manga #shonen #Youtube #rock

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moon-rivr · 7 months

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fetish

pairing: ex boyfriend miguel x fem reader

warnings: oral (f and m receiving), doggy, and mating press (pretty sure i probs forgot smth 🧍🏻)

author’s note: i got the idea from listening to the song and i hope you enjoy lol :)

word count: 2830

You swore to yourself that last time was the last time that you would hook up with your ex again, but despite how much you wanted to, you still found your way under his sheets again. Even though you said those words to him at the end of the night, you both knew you were lying and would continue with that cycle. Miguel wasn't a bad boyfriend per se, he did have some struggles with communicating properly and had some unresolved mommy issues, but he treated you like you were the most valuable thing in his life. In the time that you did spend together anyways, since he did always prioritize the Spider Society over you.

You spent your day off running some errands and taking care of your mental health, watching some tv and finding ways to unwind for the following work week. Around 11 while you were binging your favorite series, your phone pinged with a message from Miguel.

stop going back to him(pls): I managed to leave hq early if you wanna come over. I bought those empanadas you liked from Queens.

You felt the internal conflict in your brain, wanting to say no to him and stay home but you also knew that a part of you missed having Miguel hold you and tell you sweet nothings after having sex. You thought about it for a couple seconds before realizing that you'd binged the entire series in one sitting, blaming that as the reason why you would go over to Miguel's place. You wanted to be mad at him for reaching out after telling him that last time would be the last time, but how could you if you kept going back despite pushing him away?

Your palms grew clammy as you paced around Miguel's front porch, thinking if you should just run away and never come back here. You stopped your pacing and looked up when you heard the front door open, seeing Miguel standing there with a puzzled look on his face. "I didn't mean to interrupt your quarter life crisis but my camera sent out an alert," he spoke up a bit later, rubbing the back of his back awkwardly. Your common sense went out the window when you saw him leaning against the doorframe in just a pair of grey sweatpants hung just low enough to get a glimpse of his happy trail and water droplets clinging to his pecs like he just got out the shower.

You stepped into his house, noting that he'd made it look a bit more homely, turning on a eucalyptus candle and had even gotten a small, black cat. Your brow arched as the cat approached you, since Miguel wasn't too fond of animals usually, but you bent down to pet it nonetheless. "My therapist said it might be helpful to get some sort of grieving buddy," he mumbled, his cheeks turning red from embarrassment. "It's cute, what's it's name?" you asked, taking the cat in your arms as you stroked its back. "That's Apollo, he's a pretty decent cat. Doesn't poop outside the litter box," Miguel said, looking over at you as you scratched Apollo’s belly and sat down on the couch.

Miguel handed you the empanada he'd mentioned in the texts wrapped up in a napkin along with a ice cold Coke. "Colombian empanadas?" You asked, pursing your lips a little in amusement since you knew Miguel usually preferred mexican ones. "The little mexican restaurant around the corner was closed, but I'll have to give it to you, those are pretty good," he replied as he sat down on the couch next to you, turning on the tv. He placed one arm around your shoulders as you ate your empanada, just enjoying the pleasure of your company at the moment. "How's it going at the society?" You asked curiously, glancing over at him as you saw his jaw clench a bit. "It's good, got some new recruits and we're in the process of training them," he says after a couple seconds, his jaw unclenching as he takes a bite out of his empanada.

About half an hour later, you two had finished up eating up the empanadas and were just curled up on the couch watching Breaking Bad. "What if we run off to New Mexico and cook meth?" You asked Miguel, your lips curling into a smile as he shook his head, laughing a bit. "Knowing you, we'd probably end up burning the rv," he replied, poking your cheek teasingly. "Well that's what you're there for, for all the science-y stuff while I sit there and look pretty," you told him, a grin on your face as you made the suggestion. His hand gently rubbed circles on your lower back as you leaned against his shoulder, before he spoke out again, "Do you wanna head to the bedroom?"

You knew you should've stopped it there, after he asked you that question but you couldn't help but nod and walk with him to the bedroom. He walked with you to the bedroom, leaving the cat laying on the couch, while his hand gently stroked your back. The physical affection he was giving you was unusual, but you still basked it in the small acts nonetheless. He closed the door behind you, grabbing some of the research papers he had on his bed and putting them off to the side. You took off your shoes and set them off the side, looking over at Miguel as he walked closer to you.

"I missed you," he whispered against your neck, his fangs gently grazing the skin as he started to kiss it. You felt your legs tremble underneath you from how sweetly his lips were running against your skin and Miguel gestured for you to jump, leading you two to his bed. He sat down, placing you on his lap as he started to unbutton your blouse. "Siempre te ves tan chula, corazón," he spoke softly, like the words were only dignified to be heard by you two as he leaned in and pressed soft kisses on your collarbone. He bit down on your shoulder and ran over it with his tongue, letting out a soft moan as your hands tugged on his hair. He continued to nip and lick at your skin, soft moans and heavy breaths filling up the room before he reached your bra. "Are you sure about this, querida?" He asked, his finger toying with the strap as he looked at you for any signs of discomfort. "I'm sure," you replied, watching as his eyes darkened with need and he snapped your bra with his talon. (you always look so gorgeous, love/darling)

"Was it really necessary to snap my bra off?" You grumbled a bit, the thought dying off as you felt his mouth envelop your nipple. "I'll buy you as many bras as you want," he murmured, lifting his head up slightly so you'd hear him before going back to sucking on your nipples. His tongue formed small circles around your areola as your hands wound tightly in his hair. His other hand began rubbing small circles too, providing you with the same amount of pleasure in each one. He pulled away from your nipple a couple seconds later just to switch places, leaving small marks and hickeys in his wake.

He laid you down on the bed after he was sufficiently satisfied with the marks he left on your breasts, working on taking off your pants. You saw the look in his eyes darken a bit as he spread your legs apart, realizing that you weren't wearing any panties. "Toda mojadita y solo para mí, hm?" He said as he got in between your legs, looking up at you. "Solo para ti," you murmured, your hands tangled up in his hair as he slowly started kissing on your calves. It was true, even if you reprimanded yourself every time you exited Miguel's house with your makeup messed up, nobody could make you feel or make you cum the same way that he did. His mouth moved upwards, leaving small kisses as he did before he reached your pussy. He let out a small chuckle as he saw you open your legs instinctively, almost welcoming him in. "What if we try something new?" (all wet and just for me/just for you)

When Miguel had suggested something new, your brain started conjuring up what he could be talking about but you didn't think he'd actually tell you to sit on his face. "I'm Spider-Man, cmon, what could go wrong?" He remarked after you made a comment about crashing his face, your face flushing a shade of deep red. "Fine, but if it starts to get too much just tell me," you said to him after a while of consideration, sitting on his lap. "I think I should be the one telling you that," he replied with a small chuckle, helping you move up to his face. You felt yourself growing nervous as you looked down at Miguel, his eyes glistening with want. You decided to hover against his face for now, feeling his tongue gently running through your thighs.

"I thought I told you to use my face like a damn chair. ¿Qué parte de eso no entiendes, preciosura?" He asked, tsking his tongue as his hands pushed down on your thighs. You gave up on your last bit of resistance when you noticed how much he seemed to want it, your thighs on either side of his face. He let out a small groan as he licked a stripe on your folds, your thighs enclosing tighter around his head. He pulled on your folds gently, his hands massaging your thighs as he took his time to really taste you. (what part of that don’t you understand, precious?)

His tongue slipped inside, licking away at the wetness that was building up. He plunged his tongue deep inside of you, swirling it in just the right way that had your mouth wide open and your hands gripping his hair tightly. "Don't stop," you moaned out, feeling him start to suck on your pussy with a new vigor. You began moving your hips against his face, seeking out your release. His mouth closed around your clit, sucking on it and licking it with just the right amount of pressure as two of his fingers plunged deep inside you. He curled his fingers, pumping them in and out at a steady pace and you felt your orgasm building up. "Miguel, I'm about to cum," you warned, but he didn't relent and held you down with his other hand.

He started licking up your release from your pussy and off his fingers, helping you get off his face. You got a good look at his face, noticing how soaked his mouth and chin were but he didn't seem to care. "Tan deliciosa," he murmured, raising your chin as he kissed you softly. The taste of you and him combined was intoxicating, something that you couldn't get in another place. You got down on your knees, starting to take Miguel's sweats off before he did it for you, taking them off in record time. "And here you were calling me out for not having panties," you said with a small laugh, his cock slapping your chin as he finished up with taking off his pants. "Gotta let the cheeks breathe." (so delicious)

You swiped the precum building up at the tip with your pointer finger, your gaze on him as you licked it. Your mouth enclosed around his cock, your gaze on him as you started to suck on the tip. He put his hand at the back of your head, slowly starting to guide you deeper. One of your hands was wrapped around his shaft, pumping the parts that you couldn't take in your mouth as your other hand cupped his balls, massaging them. He let out a moan when he looked down to see your nose pressed against his pubic hair, his cock hitting the back of your throat. You pulled away, a string of saliva left before you went back to sucking on his cock.

He let out a guttural moan as your mouth enclosed around his cock perfectly, your hands cupping and tugging on his balls. You took more of his length in your mouth, looking up at him as the tip of his cock touched the back of your throat. "I'm gonna cum, princesa," he moaned out, his hand on the back of your head. You didn't relent, your mouth still taking his length entirely as he shot out spurts of cum in your mouth. He released completely in your moan, your eyes capturing his as you swallowed his cum. He took your hand, helping you up as he guided you back to the bed. "On your hands and knees, cariño." (princess/sweetheart)

You quickly got to your hands and knees, letting out a small yelp as you felt a slap on your ass. He gripped your hips tightly as he slipped inside you, your previous orgasm providing him with the lubrication he needed. He started off slow, his hands on your hips as he thrusted before quickening his pace. His heavy balls slapped against your thighs as his hips moved at an animalistic pace to help you both reach that peak of pleasure. His hand pulled on your hair, pulling you close to him as he kissed on your shoulders, biting down. He couldn't help but smile at seeing your shoulders marked by him, knowing that he imprinted himself on you at least for a couple days. One of his hands moved down to your clit, rubbing fervent circles on it as he basked in the way your hands clawed at the sheets underneath you. Your mouth contorted in an 'o' shape, letting out moans of Miguel's name.

"Right there, Miguel!" You moaned out loudly, holding the sheets underneath you in a vice as you felt your orgasm building up once more. With one final thrust of his hips, you slumped against the bed as you came, clear liquid coating the base of Miguel's cock. You took a few moments to come down from your high, looking over to see that Miguel was already ready for the second round. You laid on your back when he pushed your knees against your chest, slowly pushing his cock back inside you.

Your walls tightly clamped around his cock as he started to thrust inside you, your hands gripping the sheets tightly as he started to move faster. Miguel’s gaze was focused on the way your breasts bounced with each of his thrusts. His hands moved to grip your hips tightly as he thrusted faster, your walls clenching around him tightly. "You say each time is the last one but no one can fuck you like this, hm?" He said, his mouth in a cocky smirk as he continued to move against you. "No! Nobody can," You babbled, all coherent thought dying with each one of his thrusts. He let out a small chuckle before one of his hands started to circle around your clit, rubbing it just right. The tip of his cock kissed your cervix as he thrusted deeply, your hands clutching onto the sheets even tighter.

You let out a loud moan as you felt his cock brush up against your g-spot, your toes curling as he made it his mission to continue to hit that spot. Your walls clenched around his cock tightly before you came once more, clear white liquid hitting his abdomen. "No one else can make you squirt like I can, isn't that right?" He teased you, thrusting in you one last time before he came, his cum dripping from your pussy to his bedsheets. He took out his softening cock out of you a couple seconds later, grabbing a rag from his bedside table to clean you up.

"You don't have to go right away, y'know? Stay a while," he spoke up after a while, rubbing small circles on your stomach as he looked at you. However, you were already wallowing in regret as he did so, blaming yourself for not having enough self control to deny his desires every time he called. Despite all this, you did stay for a while and enjoyed his company, pretending for a moment that he did actually want something more with you apart from a late night fuck.

You quickly picked up your clothes about an hour later, putting them on as you glanced over to see Miguel already looking at you. You finished up getting dressed and fixed up your hair, dipping your head down to kiss his cheek. You lingered for a moment before whispering, "This is the last time."

You could only hoped that you sounded convincing enough to Miguel.

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haveyouseenthisseries-poll · 3 months

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#tv series #tv shows #polls #rebelde netflix #franco masini #azul guaita #andrea chaparro #2020s series #mexican series #have you seen this series poll

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giveamadeuschohisownmovie · 2 months

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One thing I’ve grown to appreciate about the “Red Dead Redemption” series now that I’m older is that you can tell Rockstar approached this project as an anti-western. It lures you in with the promise of Wild West, yeehaw goodness, but when you actually play the games, you get hit with the brutal reality of this world.

Examples of what I mean:

1) The Mexican Revolution arc isn’t romanticized. At first, you think it’s a simple tale of the evil fascist government fighting against the heroic rebellion. But then you meet the rebel leader and he turns out to be just as bad as the government. It’s a true “both sides are in the wrong” situation and, unfortunately, the ones who truly suffer are the peasants (such as Luisa Fortuna).

2) Frontier life isn’t just shooting and action. It was also watching over animals, building farms and ranches, and trading with towns. The games really make you feel the monotony of doing chores and yard work, especially when John was in his Jim Milton phase.

3) Outlaw life isn’t romanticized either. Although you start off as a happy family, it eventually devolved into backstabbing, despair, and self-destruction. Even before then, your group aren’t the greatest of people, especially with the whole robbing people at gunpoint and shooting up towns.

4) Good guys don’t always get a happy ending. Also, every action has a consequence. John Marston had to learn that the hard way.

5) The racism. I feel like a lot of Western-themed media tries to skirt around this issue, or even avoid the topic (such as the 2016 remake of Magnificent Seven, which had a diverse group of fighters). Red Dead doesn’t pull back its punches. You have the Ivy League professor who treated Native Americans as subjects for his racist research. Abraham Reyes straight up calls Chinese people an inferior race. Then there’s the Blackwater short film playfully talking about the massacre of Native American tribes.

6) Along the same lines as point 5, the sexism. For example, there was the propaganda short film about opposing the women’s suffrage movement. And, of course, Sadie Adler not wanting to be relegated to cooking for the group since she can shoot.

7) This is more for RDR2. You actually have to pay attention to the maintenance of the horses and the guns. I’ve never seen this in a Wild West movie/TV show, and yet it’s integral to someone whose life revolves around horseback riding and shooting people!

8) Not skirting around the issue of disease, especially when healthcare wasn’t as advanced as it is nowadays. You can see that especially with Arthur and Abigail.

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slutforsnow · 4 months

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As an apology for being dead as hell, i would like to provide this one-shot/oc fic of Billy the Kid from the TV drama series.

A Pretty Girl Playin' With The Big Boys

Inspired by Diva and Beautiful Liar

CW//saloon fight, western time period, poker, mild sa (like almost touches but nothing more), implied sh00ting threat, Billy is his own warning for being so hot, mentions of abusive ex, rape mention

She smiled to herself as she watched her brother Jesse play poker as she took a shot of whiskey sittin' in her chair like the cowboys so one caught sight of a woman planning to get in on the next game. What she didn't notice was that a man, around 2 years older than her, was watching her as he played. His gaze seemed predatory and observant as he played-like he didn't really feel like focusing on the game.

He took a shot of his whiskey as he showed his cards, and Jesse slowly set his down. He lost, and he looked pretty pissed about it. He frowned, clenching his jaw. He half-expected it but had some hope that'd bring home somethin' to his ma and Joe since Henry was injured. As Billy got up from his seat and place his hat on his head again, he noticed an oddly small cowboy take the seat that his opponent, Jesse, had been sittin' in as Jesse gathered his winnins.

"She's gonna get herself found out," Jesse murmured laughin' to himself. Billy snapped his head to Jesse, his brows furrowed in confusion.

'She? She who?' The brunette thought before turning his gaze to the mysterious she at the poker table. She had put a rather large sum of money on the table, causing Jesse to raise his brows, surprised. "She never bets that much."

'She's a regular poker player?'

As the game proceeded, the mysterious she kept quiet, only making noise to clear her throat or move away from one of her opponents that seemed off and tried to lay hands on her more private areas.

Billy kept a frown on his lips as he watched her discomfort, but every moment he went to go shove a man off her, she'd shoot him a glare as if to say 'if you expose me, I'll shoot you.'

As the game came to a close, she smirked, gathering her winnings as she won more than Jesse. The other men bet more in this game than the last one and were surprised to lose a quite hefty amount. The men were genuinely shocked, thinking they lost to a 15 - or 16 year old boy. One man, however, looked pissed and as the mystery girl began to stand after pocketing her winnings, he grabbed her arm pulling her down to the table, knocking her hat off and letting her lustrous curls unfurl from her messy bun that was tucked neatly under her hat. The curls fell around her face, and one strand fell in front of her face. Smiling awkwardly, she stayed still.

'Well shit,' She thought, freezing as the man froze. The gambler lost to a woman, and he was furious. A WOMAN beat his ass in poker, a men's game.

The saloon was dead silent as the sound of her hat hit the ground seemingly echoed.

"Now, sir, there's no need to violent its just poker," She said, trying to wiggle her arm free, only for the man to tighten his hold. 'Okay, maybe I'll need Jesse for this,' She thought, glancing to her brother and his friend.

"You beat me in my game. No one ever beats me," the gambler growled, grabbing his gun and bringing it to her temple. The man's words sent Billy's mind to the night Carlos was shot for winning and for being Mexican. He wasn't having a repeat of that. Before he could think, Billy spun his gun out of the holster, shooting the hole through a broken window, hitting an old crate which exploded due to the force of the bullet hitting such a delicate and old thing.

The sound grabbed everyone's attention, even the gambler who dropped his gun in surprise. The saloon was still in silence, watching Billy's next move.

"Let her go," He said, moving his gun and aiming it at the man's head. The mystery woman smirked in approval of Billy, liking how he was handling it. "I don't wanna have to kill you, so just let her go."

Out of pure fear, the man dropped his gun and let go of her, causing her to fall onto the floor with a hard thud.

Standing up, she brushed the dirt off her jeans and grabbed her hat, swiping the dust off.

"Gentleman," She commented after a moment of silence and bowing, exiting the saloon with Jesse behind her and Billy behind both of them.

As the three walked in awkward silence, she put her hat on, ignoring the stares from other women at her boyish appearance, aside from her cerulean eyes and ginger locks that had been pulled into a braid down her back.

"I suppose I should thank you," She uttered, smiling towards Billy and turning to walk backward, now following Jesse based on the sound of his footsteps.

"'S nothin'," Billy told her, shrugging as he walked behind her, but noticing her bruised arm as she pulled her over shirt off to check on the bruise. "You gonna be okay?"

"Oh I'll be fine," She answered, shrugging off his concern. "This ain't nothin' compared to my last man."

"Last man?" He repeated, staring at her puzzled. "What happened to him?"

"Jesse ran him out of town for trying to marry me while I was seventeen. Stopped him from rapin' me too," She commented. "Ex was awful."

Billy stared at her, surprised at how she could be so calm about it. Then he thought of something; she was so calm about it as if it was nothin' more than picking flowers by a river. It reminded him of how calm and unbothered he is to murdering, at least small animals and people who truly deserved it. He smirked a little before extending his hand to her to shake.

"Billy Antrim."

"Violet Evans."

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