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girlgenius1111 · 2 days ago

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alexia putellas x reader after insisting on going to r's childhood home to spend christmas with her family, alexia helps r navigate a rather difficult reunion with rather difficult parents. angst -> fluff / comfort :)

—

It was almost embarrassing, bringing Alexia home to a family so devoid of love. She’d insisted, though, never having met your parents, even though you’d met her entire extended family multiple times. She’d explained it adorably, that she wanted to see where you came from and the people that raised you. You weren’t entirely sure how to tell her that none of that was worth seeing, so with several complaints, you’d agreed to return home for Christmas. Alexia could be difficult like that; when she wanted something, she was like a dog with a bone.

She wanted you to get to spend Christmas with your family, and she was making it happen. No matter what you said.

What you absolutely couldn’t have, though, was Alexia getting to your childhood home unprepared. She had to know what she was getting herself into, and you did your best to prepare her. It started with small things, telling her how your mother was very religious, or how your father was quiet and probably wouldn’t speak much. But you couldn’t stop thinking of things to warn her about, until you were on the plane sitting next to her, a whole speech about your mother and her disapproval of your career falling from your mouth.

“And she’ll probably say something about us getting real jobs, and I just don’t want you to–”

Alexia cut you off, grabbing the hand that was gesturing wildly as you spoke and giving it a firm squeeze. “Amor, I have been hearing that for years from people. I can take it.”

Her smile was nothing but reassuring, and you weren’t sure how to express just how difficult your parents and your family could be. Your girlfriend knew that your relationship with your family was strained, but you’d always been very tight-lipped about the details. You were filled to the brim with anxious anticipation, and you could tell Alexia didn’t understand why you seemed to be dreading this. Christmas at home with your family should, theoretically, be an enjoyable and fun time.

It wouldn’t be. It hadn’t been, in all the years that you’d been travelling back home for it, and you knew it’d be even worse this year, because every second your mind would be consumed with being terrified of what your girlfriend would be thinking. Of your family and the way they viewed you, the way they spoke and belittled you. The fear that she would realize just how ugly and cruel your family could be and decide she didn’t want that in her life was all consuming.

You’d always heard that a person was the truest version of themselves with their family. This sentiment had always horrified you, your greatest fear being that it was correct. The version of you around your parents was the worst version of yourself, and Alexia was about to see all of it.

But didn’t Alexia deserve to see what she was getting herself into with you? In the end, this was what had you convinced to let her come home with you for the holidays. She deserved to know all of the person she was with.

“Amor, hey.” Alexia called, cupping your cheek with one hand as you focused back on her, apparently having gotten lost in your thoughts. “Where did you go just now?”

Her eyes were crinkled with concern, her fingers soft on your cheek, and you felt the sudden appearance of tears pooling in your eyes. Her brow knitted together and she leaned closer, gently kissing your cheek.

You inhaled deeply, letting her hand in yours ground you into the present. “I’m nervous. I don’t think you get that–”

Alexia interrupted you again, covering your mouth with her hand. “I understand that your family is difficult. I understand that your relationship with them is not the best. But maybe this can be your chance to try to mend things, no? And I promise, amorcita, nothing I see from your family will make me love you any less.”

Alexia kissed you again before pulling you into her chest as best she could with the arm of the airplane seat in between you. You let her hold you, wondering if she was telling the truth. If she’d really still love you after… what you were increasingly sure would be a disaster was over.

—

It started as soon as you arrived. There were a few moments of peace on the drive from the airport to your parents house, with Alexia practically smooshing her face against the window to get a glimpse of your hometown.

And then you’d arrived, and within a few minutes of your arrival, your mother had commented on your hair, your clothes, your career, and your lack of time spent at home. Alexia was quiet, as you knew she would be, because she still felt insecure about her English, and she much preferred to listen to it than to speak it.

Your parents seemed to like Alexia, at least, commenting on how put together she seemed, and how kind it was of her to bring the bottle of wine she had with her as a gift for them. You were still tense, though, standing in the pristinely white kitchen with your parents and your siblings, discussing the plans for the day. It was the 22nd, and there were still things needed to be done before everyone arrived on Christmas Eve. Alexia stood at your side, just observing.

“Alright, what else does everyone need to do?” Your mother asked, taking out a notepad and holding her pen at the ready over it, as if you all weren’t adults that could remember simple tasks.

“I need to get the ingredients for the Christmas cookies I’m going to make.” You stated, having done all of your shopping already and sent it ahead.

“Really? You’re going to make those cookies?” Your mother replied, her fast twisting with disgust. You shifted uncomfortably, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Yes, everyone normally likes them.”

Your mother exchanged a look with your father, smirking as she looked back at her list. “Honey, no one eats them. I throw most of them out every year when you’re not looking.”

Your face burned with embarrassment, and you shrunk into yourself, head bowed as you stared at the floor and willed everyone to stop looking at you. This was what you’d always done; instead of arguing back, you’d shut down. They could say what they wanted, but you didn’t have to let it hurt you. You weren’t exactly sure how to stop it from hurting, but they didn’t have to know that.

Yet as your Mom turned to your sister to ask her what she had left to do, Alexia stepped closer towards you, grabbing your hand and taking a deep breath.

“I like the cookies. And so does the team, they always ask you to bring them.” Her voice was soft, words accented, but the room was silent. Your mother turned to look at her, an odd expression on her face, and you sighed internally. You could feel nothing but deep gratitude for Alexia, sweet loyal Alexia who loved anything you cooked and and refused to let even you criticize yourself.

Your Mother chuckled, a cruel sound that made you wince.

“You don’t need to lie, Alexia, you’re already way out of her league. You shouldn’t have to eat her awful baking too.” Your Mother joked, a glint in her eye that told you she wasn’t really joking.

Still, Alexia seemed offended at your mother’s words, and you should have known she would be. Her grip on your hand tightened, and she stepped in closer.

“No, she is a good baker, and I–”

Your father cut Alexia off, speaking for the first time since you’d arrived. “Well, the Spanish do have weird tastes. Excessively affectionate, too.” His eyes flickered down to where your hand was intertwined with Alexia’s, his meaning clear in his tone.

You felt Alexia’s hand slip from yours, and you could see out of the corner of your eye that she had turned red. This was a step too far. Making Alexia feel embarrassed for showing affection towards you… you could take everything they had to throw at you, but they were not allowed to mess with the best person you’d ever known.

You stepped forward, despite the light tug on the back of your shirt from Alexia, clearly telling you to let it go. You couldn’t let it go; you could handle the disrespect from your parents, but you wouldn’t let them do the same to Alexia.

“That was rude, Dad.” Your voice shook pathetically, the big stand you were taking seemed pitiful as soon as you tried to speak.

Again, your parents just exchanged amused glances, and you could see out of the corner of your eye your siblings rolling their eyes. It seemed as if no one was on your side, and you weren’t sure why you were surprised. That’s how it always went.

Without another word in your direction, your Mother turned to your siblings, asking them what they had left to do. Of course, there was no criticism of the cake your sister intended to bake, even though it always came out dry. No one told your brother that the amount of alcohol he was planning on getting was absurd. It seemed the humiliation was only reserved for you.

The old feeling was back, the one of deep loneliness. You’d spent almost 18 years in this house, feeling like an outsider. Whenever you returned, it was like you reverted back to the 18 year old that had left, no matter how much time had passed. You always felt like an irrationally angry kid in the face of how your parents treated you, and you hated it. Always second guessing yourself, always half sure that you were the one in the wrong. Your parents, your brother and your sister, they all agreed that you were the problem. You were alone, here, like you always were.

Another tug on your hand, though, reminded you that you weren’t actually alone.

“Come on, show me your room.” Alexia whispered, her hands gentle as she guided you out of the room. She was shocked, to say the least, at your family’s treatment of you. She’d known you had a difficult relationship but she didn’t imagine it was like this. You’d been home for 10 minutes, seeing your parents for the first time in almost a year, and they’d wasted no time trying to embarrass you in front of her. She was hoping this was a one off, though, perhaps an inside joke she had misunderstood. So, she let you lead the way to your room, taking in the small space more critically than she normally would have.

Her room at her mothers house was left practically untouched from when she’d moved out. It was filled with posters of footballers and old memories. Your room here, though, was devoid of any sentiment. No pictures, no decorations, nothing that made it feel like it had been yours. Alexia wasn’t sure if your parents had cleared away any trace of you from the room, or if it had never really been decorated in the first place. She wasn’t sure which she preferred, honestly.

But as you leaned into her wordlessly for a hug as soon as the bedroom door shut behind you, Alexia began to worry. Making you bring her here was starting to feel like a mistake. She didn’t have the whole picture, or even most of it. All she knew was that she hated the blank expression on your face, and she hated the way you seemed to shrink into yourself around your parents. Like you’d rather disappear than be noticed by them.

—

It wasn’t a one off, the awkward moment upon your immediate arrival home. It had barely been 24 hours, but Alexia had witnessed at least 5 different instances of your parents treating you like an inconvenient annoyance instead of the daughter they hadn’t seen in almost a year.

First, it was your mother asking about your plans for when football ended.

“All I’m saying, honey, is that you are not going to be able to find a good job with your school records.” She tutted, before turning to Alexia. “I swear, she didn’t finish a math or science class with more than a C her entire time in school.”

Your mother smiled, as if she’d just told the funniest joke in the world. Alexia’s face was one of both shock and horror. Her mami would never have said something even remotely close to what your mother had just said, even if Alexia had failed every class she’d ever taken. It was so unnecessary, and your girlfriend could see the weight your mother’s words had over you.

It was more of the same from the day before; instead of saying anything in response, you just sank back into the couch, gaze fixed on the floor. This only seemed to mollify your mom, and as she kept talking, rehashing every test you’d failed, Alexia could see tears beginning to well in your eyes.

“Her marks were so bad before she left for football, I don’t think she would have even graduated.” Your mother chuckled. It was untrue; your grades weren’t that bad. Not the best, sure, but you weren’t in any danger of failing or getting kicked out. Still, it was like your mouth was sealed shut, and saying anything in response wasn’t possible. You couldn’t defend yourself, you couldn’t even look up from the ground. It was pathetic.

“Amor, can you help me choose what to wear tonight? I brought two sweaters, and I cannot decide.”

Alexia didn’t wait for a response from you, standing and reaching for your hand, well past caring that your parents seemed to think of Alexia’s affection as something of an entertaining joke. You followed her down the hall and into your bedroom, her hand warm and soft in yours, only making the sob caught in your throat more difficult to keep in.

As soon as you were safely in your sadly bare bedroom, though, she was wrapping you up tight in her arms.

You tried to defend yourself, mortified at everything your mother had said, words mumbled into Alexia’s sweatshirt. “I’m not dumb. She made it sound like I’m dumb, but–”

Alexia cut you off, holding you even tighter. “You are not dumb, I know this. Do not listen to her, do not even think about it. You are so intelligent, mi amor, I promise you.”

Your body began to shake in her arms, a quiet thank you breaking the brief silence. You were crying, and it was all Alexia could do to keep holding you until the tears stopped. What else could she say?

But for every conversation that followed in which your mother attempted to belittle you or make you feel bad, Alexia would find an excuse to pull you away.

When your mother expressed her distaste for your haircut, Alexia practically wrote you a poem in the garage about how much she loved your hair.

When your father made a thinly veiled comment about how you were most definitely not invited to church the following day, as the other families would be judgemental about your lifestyle, Alexia was right beside you, trying to hold back her absolute fury. She forced a smile, telling your father it was better you both stay home, because ignorance and stupidity were not worth engaging with.

When your mother suggested you eat a salad instead of the pasta you were going to order for dinner, Alexia very pointedly informed your mother that you were among the fittest on the team. And later, laying in bed, when she could tell you were still thinking about the comment, she… reminded you how much she loved your body. Twice.

Alexia had an answer for everything, a way to make your chest stop squeezing whenever your mother opened her mouth. You weren’t sure how she was doing it, weren’t sure why she was possibly still here. After all of your flaws were explicitly laid out in front of her, she seemed only more determined to make it clear how much she loved you.

It was easier, one you decided to just focus on Alexia and not what your parents had to say. With her there with you, it felt like this was a trip you could maybe get through.

But then Alexia offered to take the family dog for a long walk while you caught up with your sister, by far your favorite member of the family. She thought it was important that you have time together, and she didn’t mind a bit of time away from the loud chaos that had taken over the house.

She left with the dog, returning only 45 minutes later, with no idea what her absence had given the opportunity for.

Alexia came back into the house, unhooking the dog from his leash, the smile falling from her face when she sensed the tension in the room. You were nowhere to be seen, and your parents looked beyond furious, clattering around angrily in the kitchen as they cooked. Your sister sat on the couch, guilt written across her face.

“She’s in her room, go,” your sister whispered, catching Alexia’s eye and giving her a meaningful nod. It didn’t take a mind reader to understand what had happened. Things had been on the brink with your parents the short time you’d been home. It seemed everything had finally boiled over. Alexia moved towards your room as fast as was socially acceptable, knocking softly on the door before opening it. You were sitting on the floor at the foot of your bed, face wet with tears.

“Oh, mí bebe,” Alexia whispered, shutting the door quietly behind her and lowering herself onto the ground next to you. Her strong arms pulled you into a tight hug, and you burrowed into her, not minding the chill of her skin from the cold outside. No hug had ever felt warmer.

“I’m so sorry,” you whimpered, feeling guilt upon guilt at the fact that you’d brought your girlfriend into this environment, even if she’d insisted on it. How embarrassed she must be, to see you so easily humiliated by your parents. She must be rethinking everything, your whole relationship.

But, as Alexia was often inclined to do, she surprised you, tenderly wiping away your tears and giving you a reassuring smile.

“You have nothing to be sorry about, nothing.” She assured you, leaving a lingering kiss on your cheek.

“I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“Then let’s go. We can get flights back to Spain. Be home before Christmas, spend it ourselves. Just us.”

“You’d do that?”

“Of course I would, amor.”

“You wanted to come here, though, I don’t want to ruin everything,”

Alexia cut you off. “I don’t want to be anywhere that makes you unhappy.” She said softly. You looked up at her finally, and the adoring expression on her face as she gazed down at you was almost overwhelming.

“Okay.” You murmured, pressing your face into her shoulder. She held you close, pulling out her phone to buy tickets on the next flight out. Once that was done, she guided you away from the safety of her sweatshirt, planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Get packing. I am going to speak to your parents.”

“Ale,”

“No. I am. Stay here, pack. I will be back in a moment.”

—

You couldn’t be sure what Alexia said to your parents. They didn’t speak as you left the house, and neither did either of your siblings. They all just watched you go, a somewhat impressed look on your sister’s face. Alexia wouldn’t tell you, either, saying she’d just told them what they needed to hear.

The next half a day or so went by in a blur. You were emotionally exhausted from being home, and Alexia practically had to drag you through the airport once you’d landed in Barcelona. Before you knew it, you were at Alexia’s mother’s house for Christmas Eve. Eli had been delighted to have the both of you home, not saying a single word about how you were supposed to be at your family’s home.

You could relax, finally, at Eli’s house with people you felt comfortable around. You loved Alexia’s family, loved how they all seemed excited to see you, asked you enthusiastic questions about your life. It was nice, spending the holidays with them. With Alexia’s arms around your shoulders, making sure you were always tucked into her side, and her family so happily chatting around you, it was so nice to be around a happy, loving family.

Happy, though, wasn’t all you felt. You watched Alexia with her Mami, her cousins and her aunts and uncles. She fit so easily, smiling widely as she joked around with them. Alexia was loved by her family, but you were not. You never had been and you didn’t understand why.

There had to be over 50 people in the house, and you were confident that no one would notice if you slipped off, just for a minute. Someone had noticed. Alba noticed the tears in your eyes, too, the ones you hadn’t even been aware of. So, while you darted off to the bathroom, the brunette went in search of her sister.

She found her in a crowd of her uncles, in a heated argument about some football tactic. Alba didn’t have the patience to wait until the conversation had ended, and knew that if Alexia had seen you just a few moments before, she wouldn’t either.

“Ale.” Alba said quietly, pulling on her sister’s arm. The blonde shook her off, barely turning her head to look at her as she did so. “Alexia, now.”

With a roll of her eyes, Alexia exited the conversation. “Ay dios mio, what, Alba?” she huffed, dragging her feet as Alba yanked her in the direction of the bathroom.

“Your girlfriend snuck away, and it looked like she was crying. Just thought you’d want to know.” Alba snapped with a frown, turning on her heel and stomping away. Alexia would fix that later, she thought.

“Amor?” Alexia called, knocking quietly. “Are you in there?”

She heard a deep inhale, and then your shaky voice. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be out in a second.”

Alexia tried the handle again. “Let me in, please.”

A moment passed before the lock clicked open and Alexia practically threw herself through the door and into the bathroom.

Your makeup was running, and you were desperately trying to mop up the tears still streaming down your face.

“Come here.” Alexia said simply, opening her arms for you to collapse into. It was a good thing she was wearing a black sweater, or there’d have been mascara visible all over it. You sniffled against her for a few moments, and she didn’t push you to talk. She ran her hand through your hair, leaving a light kiss on the top of your head.

You pulled away after a moment, reaching for a tissue, but Alexia grabbed one before you could, gently wiping away the tears and running makeup off your face. She had a frown set on her face, and you misunderstood the cause.

“I’m sorry. I’m okay, you can go back to your family.”

Her frown deepened. “Do not say sorry. What upset you? Did someone say something?”

You shook your head, feeling more tears well up in your eyes though you knew you really shouldn’t be crying anymore about this. “No, no one said anything.” You were wilting under Alexia’s stern gaze, so she made a conscious effort to soften, leaning forward to kiss your forehead.

“Tell me what has you so upset.” She encouraged, pulling your body closer into hers.

You exhaled shakily, not quite sure how to explain it without sounding like an awful, pathetic person. “I… it’s just…”

Alexia sighed, resting her hand on your cheek and encouraging you to look up at her. “You can tell me, bebé. Whatever it is, you can always tell me.”

“It’s hard.” You mumbled eventually, studying the floor under your feet very closely.

“What is hard?”

“Being here.” You admitted. “With your family who all adore you, and they should, it’s just that my family… they don’t… and I just want…” Your voice broke and you slammed your mouth shut, unwilling to allow yourself to break down again.

“Amor,” Alexia breathed, engulfing you once more in a tight hug. “I know. It is not fair the way they treat you, I am so sorry. It makes sense that this is hard, I understand.”

You held tight to your girlfriend, letting the smell of her perfume wash over you. Alexia always knew what to say. Always knew how to make you feel better. You didn’t deserve someone as good as her, you were sure of that. As if reading your thoughts, Alexia leaned away from the hug and cradled your face in her hands.

“Let’s go home. I have a surprise for you there.” Her face was so earnest and hopeful, you felt your heart melt.

“But your family–”

“They will understand, and I am pretty sure they will not even notice us leave anyway, it is so loud in here, everyone loves to hear the sound of their own voice.” With a fond roll of her eyes and a half smile, Alexia had you convinced. She made sure the makeup that had run while you cried was wiped off your face, before expertly leading you out of the house. As she said, most of her family was too busy chatting to notice Alexia pulling you through the crowd, though she did stop to say goodbye to her mother. Eli gave you a tight hug, sending the two of you on your way with a large shopping bag full of wrapped gifts.

It didn’t seem to bother Alexia, leaving early. In fact, she seemed so excited about whatever surprise she had for you at home that she was practically bouncing in the driver’s seat. Her excitement remained all the way home, until you were sitting on the sofa in your shared apartment, hands dutifully covering your eyes.

There was some rustling in the front hall closet, what sounded like a box falling from a shelf and Alexia’s voice quietly swearing. You smiled to yourself, hearing her footsteps approach, before something was placed in your lap.

“Okay! Open!” Alexia sang, sitting on the edge of the coffee table just in front of you. Opening your eyes, you found a gift bag resting in your lap, puffy as though it was a bit too small for whatever was inside, tissue paper haphazardly covering the opening of the bag. “Come on! Open!”

You chuckled, pulling the tissue paper out of the reindeer covered bag, and reaching in. Before you had even processed the fabric in your hands, Alexia was leaning in to kiss you, bursting with eagerness.

“It is matching Christmas pajamas!” She burst out, grinning from ear to ear as you unfolded the red and white plaid pajama pants, white long sleeve shirts with a well decorated christmas tree adorning the front.

You couldn’t help but match her energy, smiling back at her as she explained herself.

“I looked up Christmas traditions we could start, just ourselves. I have a whole list, and this is the first thing on the list. New matching pajamas every Christmas Eve. A new… our family tradition.”

It shouldn’t have surprised you, that Alexia thought of you as her family, but maybe you just weren’t expecting anyone to choose you when your family wouldn’t even do that. You dropped the pajamas into your lap, pulling her in for a soft kiss. “You’re the sweetest. I love it. And I love you.”

“I love you more.” Alexia whispered, kissing you again before pulling you to your feet. “Let’s put them on and watch a Christmas movie!”

It didn’t matter that Alexia didn’t particularly care for Christmas movies. Not when she was waiting for you on the bed, her set of pajamas looking adorable on her. Her fading blonde hair was pulled into a loose bun, and her face broke into a massive smile when she saw you in your set of pajamas.

And as you laid in Alexia’s arms, plaid pajama covered legs tangled together as a Christmas movie played on the TV, it didn’t matter so much that you didn’t have your family to celebrate with. You had Alexia, and that was more than enough.

—

have not proofread this so pls tell me if you find a typo

i hope you enjoy! i know the holidays aren't always enjoyable for everyone, and honestly it's gonna be a weird one for me, but i hope everyone feels loved and appreciated this year.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #woso one shot #woso fanfics

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rosiereveries · 3 days ago

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Part three of CEO!John Price

Part one | Part two

CW : smut, oral sex, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, mating press, little power imbalance, reader is a female

After you read the note that John left for you on your table, you are left feeling quite nervous but also excited. You were prepared for this. When you were getting ready for work this morning, you put on your favorite underwear. Lacy pink panties and matching bra that made your tits look great. You put on a lot of perfume, the one John had bought for you. You wore your best outfit, and you felt sexy and confident. You wanted to impress John, yesterday took you by surprise, but now you were in charge. When the time for his lunch break came, you were ready, so when you went to his office you knew what you wanted. You wanted him.

You find John sitting behind his table, working on his laptop. He looks good, so fucking hot without even trying. When he realizes that it´s you, who just walked in, he immediately shuts up his laptop and his full attention is on you. “Suddenly my day just got a lot better” he says and walks to you.

He gently places his hand on your cheek, and he kisses you. It’s nothing like the kiss you shared yesterday. This one is soft and gentle, like now he has time to taste you properly. He takes his time kissing you. When you try to touch him more, he pulls away. “Not now sweetheart, we have plans don’t we”. John walks out of the office with you. His hand on your back walking you through the whole floor like you’re his wife and not his secretary.

You’re confused. You expected a quick sex in his office, just like yesterday, you expected him to just pull your skirt up and fuck you on the desk. But now he is taking you somewhere in his expensive car and you’re wondering what the hell is going on.

You don’t know how John is feels about dating. You always thought that he was the type who just had casual sex with different partners. Since you started working for him, he didn’t have a girlfriend, but you heard from your colleges that he enjoys a company of beautiful women. Sometimes the relationship lasts longer but mostly there were a few weeks hook ups.

You stop in front of some Italian restaurant. He opens your door for you and like a true gentleman he helps you to get out of the car. The restaurant is lovely, there are only a few people inside and it looks really cozy. After you order your food he asks about your day, how did you sleep and what are your plans for the evening. He acts like you’re on a normal date and not on a business lunch. “I can see that something is bothering you, you don’t like it here?” John asks you after he notices how out of the place you look.

You tell him that you don’t understand what is going on, why are you here and what are you doing. “Well, I know that you don’t go out for your lunch break, so I wanted to take my girl out, take care of you.” He says it is not a big deal. “Your girl?” you ask. “What did you thought that I’m just going to fuck you in my office, when I am will be bored? John asks and your face goes red. That is exactly what you thought he would do. “I take care of my partners. I want to spoil you. Since you started to work for me you have been such a good girl, making my life so much easier. Now it is my turn.” You’re left speechless.

After the lunch, he takes you back to the office. His hand is on your thigh while he drives and it’s making you insane. Yes, you do like that he took you out but you’re so horny. The whole morning you imagined what he would do to you, and you were excited. And now he is teasing you with his fingers lightly brushing over your skin and each time he goes higher and higher.

At one moment when John’s hand is almost all the way under your skirt you moan. He looks at you with a playfulness in his eyes. Now he is teasing you on purpose. He continues to drive while his hand is slowly making its way in your panties. “Fuck love, you’re soaked, you could tell me that you wanted me so much.” Gently he starts to circle your clit and you’re opening your legs more for him.

He slowly puts two of his fingers inside you and after a while he starts to move them. You’re almost at the office building when he makes a turn and starts to drive in a different direction. “Where are we going?” you ask. “I made a promise to you yesterday, haven’t I. Were not fucking in my car. I am taking you to my place, so we don’t have to worry about some of your colleagues catching us fucking. We would want Janice from finance to see how good you take my cock. Am I right?”

To be honest you don’t care if Janice saw you. You’re so close and you can feel your orgasm approaching. John still casually drives while his fucking your pussy with his fingers. When he pulls his fingers out of you, you’re desperate, you just need a little bit more and you know that he knows it too. “You will come on my face in a minute don’t worry” John says.

And he is right the drive to his house is short and you both quickly get out of the car. When the door to his house closes behind you, he is immediately on you. Kissing you passionately and lifting you up so your legs are wrapped on his hips. He walks with you up the stairs not letting you go.

“Everything off, I want to see you” he says when he lays you on his bed. You’re quick with your clothes and now you lay before him in nothing but your panties. “Fucking beautiful, and I bet you taste even better than you look.” “Spread your legs for me, sweetheart, let me see you” he gently pulls your panties, and he shows his head between your thighs. You’re already so wet and when he finally starts to lick your pussy your gone. You arch your back, and you can hear him whisper fucking perfect for me.

When his tongue finds you clit you’re gone. He looks up at you and you can see your wetness on his beard and it’s the hottest thing you have ever seen. He quickly brings you to your orgasm and as he promised you to come on his face. When you finally come down from your orgasm you can see him taking his shirt off. He unzips his pants and quickly takes them off. He is on you naked, and you can see his hard dick leaking precum.

“I want to see your face this time, I want to see how pretty you’re going to look when I make you come on my dick.” He slowly pushes in you. “You were made for me honey, youre going to be the death of me.” he growls, and he starts to move in you. John is a big man and the way his stretching you is amazing. You can feel him everywhere and you are full.

It’s completely different than the sex you had yesterday. This is slow, his thrusts are hard, but it’s not rushed like the last time. He plays with your nipples, and you can feel that your second orgasm is approaching. “I am going to cum” you tell him, and you can feel that he is close too. He pushes your legs to your chest in a mating press and you can feel him so much deeper. “I need to come in your sweet pussy, please sweetheart be a good girl and let me” he says and you just nod. His fingers start to rub your clit and your orgasm hits you. He follows shortly after you spilling his seed into you. When he pulls out of you, he pulls you to his chest and he holds you so tight. You just lay there and you on his chest and his hands holding you.

You don’t go back to work that day, you stay at his place the night and the next day he drives you to your apartment. He tries to convince you to take the rest of the week off, so he can enjoy your company, but you tell him that he is the boss, and he needs to work, and he can’t take a vacation just because he is horny. You go to work and when you go to your desk you see a note there, just like yesterday. But this time it says: My office now! And loose your panties on the way.

Masterlist

#john price #john price x reader #call of duty #cod #john price x f!reader #john price x you #smut #task force 141 #captain john price #captain price x reader #rosiereveries

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reignpage · 2 days ago

Text

Frat Boy!Gojo

Madri Lager: drunk words

Contents: cursing, just a little conversation between them to set the mood and provide a backdrop for the next fic, not proofread

No fucking way.

There’s just no fucking way.

“Why the hell are you here?” You hiss.

Gojo fucking Satoru strolled into your lecture hall, smug grin on his fuck ugly face, arms folded behind his head and swinging his legs like a maniac. From the doors at the front, he immediately spotted you all the way at the back, sat by your lonesome and you could see his shit-eating grin widen. The whites of his teeth blind you almost as much as his impossibly white hair.

Then, the freak had the audacity to climb the stairs, ignoring the whispering and the pointing, and sat next to you. Well, a seat down because you refused to move your bag, even fought with him a little when he tried to lift it.

He shrugs, slinging an arm around the back of the chair between you, fingertips way too close to your shoulder, and black sunglasses hanging low on his nose bridge. “Was feeling bored so here I am.”

Counting to ten, you tried to put on a patient voice, like you’re berating a child, which you pretty much are, and you grit out, “Bored people take up hobbies. Bored people do things like puzzles and cooking and knitting. Bored people don’t crash lectures and bother other people.”

“I love when you lecture me on common knowledge, wifey. It really warms my heart.” To emphasise his stupid point, he presses a hand to his chest and fans his face with the other. “You’re just so smart.”

You slap his hand away when he tries to boop your nose. People are staring, turning their heads like owls as they strained to listen to your conversations. Some people are taking pictures, no doubt sending it to The Bulletin or whatever, because people have nothing better to do than gossip. You hate this attention; the pointing and whispering because of your appearance you’ve learnt to tolerate, but this?

This is just irritating on a different level.

At least once a day, a cheerful stranger comes up to you and asks in bewilderment if you’re Gojo’s fiancee. In fact, they ask if you’re really, actually the future wife of Gojo Satoru like he’s some mythical being and you’re a frumpy little worm. Fuck them. And fuck him.

“Go away, Gojo,” you roll your eyes, typing as much of the lecturer’s notes as you can, a little distracted by the peering eyes around you and the ones running over your clothes .

He sighs and lifts the lace from your dress, rounding the neckline. You feel it tickle your neck, and you fight the urge to shudder. In disgust. With a forced melodramatic tone, he complains, “I’m bored. Entertain me.”

“Are you fucking twelve? Go watch a movie like a normal person.”

“Movies are boring,” he retorts as if it’s fact.

You roll your eyes. “And what? I’m so much more interesting?”

What a stupid question. You really shouldn’t have asked that because the serious expression on his face as he lifts one shoulder in a lazy shrug makes you blush. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

“Did you meet Suguru on the course or was he your piercer first?”

Still typing, you throw him a side glance, feeling suspicious of the sudden change in conversation. But it’s welcomed. “We met on the course. First year. We were in the same class. He’s a good guy.”

Gojo huffs as if he didn’t like your answer.

The piercer’s actually a decent person; he was friendly, smart, and kind. He made long, boring classes feel shorter with his interesting insights and opinions, and he had such a great way of expressing them — he was the most eloquent male you’ve ever met. However, there was always something off about him, like an inner turmoil that neither you nor he could ever quite understand.

It was when he absentmindedly said he was thinking of dropping out that you felt you knew him a little better. You both shared a long talk at the back of the Life Sciences building where your little stroll took you, him smoking and you listening to his mutterings. He spoke of this feeling of being out of place, which you understood better than anyone else, and how the traditional path didn’t suit him. He disappeared for a while, a couple months, and you thought your response might have spooked him. After all, no one ever really comes to you for advice. But when he reached out to offer you a free piercing as his first ever client at his newly opened studio, you realised maybe you are capable of dropping an odd pearl here and there.

“Well, Suguru’s my bestie, so back off,” Gojo pouts.

From your peripheral, you see him eye the big lecture hall and you don’t really know what he’s thinking. It’s an odd realisation to think that Geto, the guy you’ve always kind of admired, is actually friends with this loser – the suggestion that there’s a redeeming quality to the frat guy is one that doesn’t suit you.

Most times he’s easy to read; he wants fun and excitement and thrill. He does whatever’s convenient or interesting, a totally impulsive guy. But there are rare moments, emphasis on rare, where you think there might be something more going on in that huge head of his. Maybe there’s something deeper to him. A maturity and wisdom he’s yet to show.

“Fuck, marry or kill,” he lifts three fingers, “Marx, Satre or Aristotle.”

Yeah, unlikely.

“Gojo, seriously, go away,” you sigh, exasperated. Just five minutes with the guy and you’re already drained. And somehow, you’re expected to live a lifetime with the weirdo?

Satan strike you down.

“Me personally, Satre’s cute but something about big, bushy beards really gets me going. So, it’ll have to be: kill Aristotle, no offence dude, fuck Satre, and marry Marx.”

Two girls in the row in front of you giggle. Your lips turn down in repulsion.

“I’m not sure Marx would like either of us, Gojo,” you give him a pointed look.

He laughs. It’s loud and sudden and he has to say sorry to the entire lecture when it echoes around the hall. Some people laugh at him, or with him, and the lecturer can only shake his head and carry on. This lecturer is strict and merciless when it comes to interruptions, but of course he doesn’t say a thing against the interloper. How could he when there’s a huge placard over the double doors of this building titled ‘From the Loving Hearts of The Gojo Charitable Foundation’?

A couple minutes pass in relative silence, just the tapping of fingers against keyboards and the droning of the professor filling the space, and you think maybe he’s fallen asleep or maybe he’s so bored that he’s actually thinking of leaving.

Of course, neither of those things happen because the universe hates you.

Gojo pokes your side with a pen. You writhe with a blush.

“Oh, ticklish, are we? Very interesting.” He wiggles his brows like an idiot, and you fight the urge to land a punch there. “Our wedding night’s gonna be fun.”

“We’re not going to have one if you had it your way, remember?”

Leaning back in his seat, he taps the pen —where the hell did even get that? He wasn’t carrying a bag— against his chin, considering his words carefully. He shrugs again. “Well, seeing as everyone’s so set on it, I’ve decided to, you could say, open myself to the idea.”

You try to quell the spark of hope there, that maybe your family could be saved, that you’ll be saved. It’s not wise to let that spark fester into something more.

Gojo’s impulsive. Fact.

Gojo’s a thrill-seeker. Fact.

Gojo is an unserious guy set in his bachelor ways. He cannot be relied upon. He cannot be trusted to keep his word.

All facts.

It’s easy for him to be able to have the option to be ‘open’ to an idea, whereas it’s thrusted upon you without much say. He can wake up and make decisions solely based on his urges, but you have to be mindful of the family’s reputation, your father’s bad habits, your mother’s social conservative ways, and the fact that this is all your fault.

“Gojo,” you turn, fixing him with a solemn expression, “don’t do that. Don’t lead me on. I may not want to marry you, but I do want to marry. I must. It’s important to me, so please don’t wave it around like it’s some pretty flag.”

There must be something in your eyes, a graveness or a sombre quality that makes his smile disappear. His brows furrow like he’s trying to understand, trying to piece things together but you’re turning away before he could see.

Clearing his throat, he pokes you again. “Alright. How about this?”

You throw him a doubtful look, worried about what dumbassery is going to leave his mouth.

“Go on a date with me.”

“No.”

“Hey! You said that way too quickly.”

Resuming your typing, you’re already trying to drown him out, focused on the history of pragmatic ethics instead of his humoured tone. He’s suggesting something ridiculous again. As if you’d go on a date with him. Him. The guy who’s been getting in the way, the one who’s been making your life difficult and family dinners awkward, and the one you certainly cannot trust to not set up some trap to humiliate you like in the movies.

“I’m being serious. Let’s go on a date.” Seeing you open your mouth to argue back, he hurriedly adds, “This isn’t fair on me either, y’know? I’m supposed to marry a stranger, one who wears all black and looks like she’d haunt me — not a bad thing, I’m actually kinda into it, question mark? — but my point is, we don’t really know each other. So why don’t we go on a date? It’s a pretty brilliant idea, if I do say so myself.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you mull it over. Sure, it makes sense, it would be good to get to know the freak you’re marrying or supposed to marry. This is how it should have been in the first place. Plus, your mother would certainly approve; she’d think this is a golden opportunity to secure him, to make him fall for you or whatever Mrs. Bennet thing she’s thinking of.

However, as good as that idea is, you can’t just eagerly agree; there’s no guarantee this isn’t a trap.

“You’re thinking this is a trap, aren’t you?” Your eyes meet his. He’s grinning ear to ear like he’s proud he guessed correctly. “Why don’t you plan the date, then? Set the time and place, that way there’s no way I could have rigged the environment with explosives or something.”

“No pig blood?”

Gojo smiles even brighter, and you have to squint to prevent losing your vision permanently.

“No pig blood.”

#jjk fluff #Gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk crack #jjk x you #gojo satoru #modern au

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dollfacefantasy · 1 day ago

Text

clark kent x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, car sex, mating press a/n: ummm yeah i need him so bad it makes me ill <3

for as long as you'd known clark, you'd never known him to lose his temper. he was forever-patient, your boyfriend. understanding to almost a frustrating degree. especially with you, his little love.

he was already pretty easy to get along with, but on the rare occasion you did have issues, clark seemed to have a natural instinct for deescalating you. he never raised his voice, never spoke an unkind word about you, never gave you a look harsher than what could be described as stern.

all it took to calm you down was a glimpse of his natural puppy-dog eyes and pretty plush lips. his thick arms would circle around you and hold you to his chest. he'd sway back and forth with you a little, a small smile on his face as you melted into the embrace. whatever semblance of tension or irritation that had been bubbling up easily dissolved into a puddle between the two of your bodies.

so, all that to say, you didn't really believe clark possessed any kind of rough edge or combative instinct. despite his large stature, you couldn't really picture him ever being rough.

that was until tonight.

you and clark had planned to drop by some event at the talon, but your sweet boyfriend had warned you earlier that he found out there'd probably be some trouble there later. some potentially dangerous situation that he wanted you avoiding at all costs. it was for your safety. he just wanted you to stay home where he wouldn't be worried while him and chloe investigated.

but did you listen to him? of course not. you went anyways, not in the mood to listen to his vague explanations as to how he even discovered this information in the first place. you put on a cute little dress with some new shoes you bought specifically for the night and took off.

unfortunately for you, clark had turned out to be right. not even thirty minutes after you arrived, chaos broke out. people flew through walls and glass shattered everywhere, all because of some guy who looked like his body could stretch and bend like a rubberband. it totally sucked. but none of that was even the worst part. you survived the craziness of whatever that person's problem was. the real danger came when the dust settled and you saw clark across the room staring at you.

he looked pissed.

he was at your side in an instant, but closing the distance didn't soften him any. it kind of did the opposite since up close he could see a bloody scrape stretching across your cheekbone.

you could see he was worried first and foremost, but behind that concerned top coat a fire burned. as soon as your small wound had been tended to, his long fingers clasped around your bicep. he pulled you to your feet and all but dragged you out of the coffee shop.

"clark i-" you started in an attempt to explain yourself.

"save it," he said, voice as cold as you'd ever heard it, "i asked you for one thing. that's it. stay home for your own good. don't come out here and pointlessly risk your life."

"it wasn't that bad," you defend weakly.

"but why even take the chance?" he asked with true exasperation, "i shouldn't need to convince you that your safety is more important than whatever they had going on tonight."

he didn't continue the lecture beyond that. just walked with a clenched jaw and motivated stare in the direction of his truck. like always, he opened the door for you when you got there. though this time, he practically scooped you up and dumped you into the car.

he was silent as he drove, fingers tight around the steering wheel. you could practically feel the frustration rolling off of him. the urge to lash out for once was near spilling over. he pulled the car over, and you figured you were really in for it. in a way you were right, just not how you thought.

clark didn't bother yelling, didn't try to start a fight. he glared at you for a few silent seconds before leaning across the seats and crashing his lips against yours. he kissed you like he wanted to steal the breath from your lungs.

after a blur of clothing being shifted around and positioning body parts awkwardly in the confined space, you found yourself in the meanest mating press of your life.

you were folded in half beneath all of clark's weight. the points of your new heels scraped up the truck's ceiling while your knees squished against your chest. little squeaks and whines slipped their way out of you as his tip battered against your cervix. he was so deep you swore you could feel your insides rearranging to make room for him.

"clarkkkk," you mewled before biting your lip, desperately searching for some way to ground yourself. one set of your fingers gripped strands of his dark hair while the other held a fist of his flannel.

"what, baby?" he panted. for once, clark wasn't fawning over you between thrusts. he wasn't cooing or praising you for taking him so well. instead, he had his face against your neck and his hands wrapped around your waist, bucking into your dripping heat with enough force to rock the car.

you tried to force out words to convey what you were thinking. too big. too much. so deep. harder. faster. none of those made it though. only choked moans and then a sharp squeal when he rolled his hips and struck that extra-sensitive sweet spot inside you.

"someone's gonna see if they drive by," you whimpered, squirming underneath him.

"maybe you should hold still then and let me finish, huh?" he grunted, "no one's gonna see. everyone's in town dealing with the mess from tonight. the one i told you was gonna happen."

"i didn't think-"

"i know you didn't," he interrupted, "didn't use that pretty little head at all, did you?"

words of defense eluded you right now, his nonstop thrusts keeping your mind cloudy. instead you chose to whine, your lip quivering he rolled his hips deeper yet again.

"oh yeah?" he asked, as if you'd said something coherent.

you opened your mouth again to speak, to really argue back this time, but you were cut off by your own desperate cry when his hands tugged you closer and speared you even further on his cock. you could feel him grinning against your neck at the noise.

"i know, baby. i know you're sorry. you don't have to explain. thinking's too hard for you right now, yeah?" he cooed, his tone bordering on mocking.

your pout got more severe but so did the needy sounds escaping your mouth. you felt those long fangs of his scrape against your throat. his tongue then glided across the area, making you shudder.

"clark-" you tried to say something else, but he cut you off. he raised his head up and kissed you deep again, swallowing the words right from your mouth. when he pulled back for air, he rested his sweaty forehead against yours.

"you can be such a brat," he breathed, "so much whining even though i know you love this."

the truck creaked as his movements continued to jostle it. you felt his breath fanning across your face and watched as his eyes fluttered shut. you knew he was getting close, but so were you. your cunt squeezed around him rhythmically, coaxing him too the edge along with you.

"you gonna cum, baby?" he finally muttered against your lips.

you nodded eagerly, more than ready to release. it only took a few more hard thrusts to get you there, and clark followed along no problem. in the afterglow, he laid on top of you for a minute or so, trapping you in a cage of searing body heat.

when he finally did sit up, the two of you fixed your clothes and stretched your limbs. he looked over at you with more tenderness. your boyfriend's gentle temperament had seemingly returned with the relief his peak brought.

he cupped your jaw with his fingers, looking over that cut on your face. leaning in, he gave it a small kiss before starting up the car again.

"i'm just trying to look out for you, you know? just... please listen next time. i don't know what i'd do if you got hurt. you had me worried sick."

"i will. i'm sorry i scared you," you replied softly. your eyes studied the loving look in his eyes and the way his features seemed so at peace now that all his adrenaline was out of his system.

you grabbed his hand across the seats and traced little patterns on his knuckles for the drive home. he let you play with his fingers but shot you a glance.

"i'm serious. next time you get involved with something like that i won't let you off so easy," he teased.

you smiled and nodded, wanting to put his mind at ease. though in the back of your mind, a small part of you considered trying again some time, just to see what "not so easy" looked like to him.

#clark kent x reader #clark kent smut #clark kent x you #clark kent imagine #superman x reader #dc x reader #dc imagine #dc smut #smallville x reader

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bootycallin · 3 days ago

Text

bush enthusiast vi… mhm mhm 🫡 cw: nsfw utc. wlw. swéaríng. cúnņılınġus. pet names (cupcake, babe, etc.). unshaven reader if u couldn’t tell. this woman’s a múnch and i’m dying on that hill. not proofread.

to say vi was surprised was an understatement.

inside, she was almost distraught. first you were making out on your couch, then her hand slipped under your shirt and that’s when it started to get heated. she was kissing down the valley of your breasts, feeling you up, all the way down to your stomach and right before she could reach her heaven between your legs—

“vi, wait,” you stopped her. your hand, previously cradling the back of her head, grasped slightly at her hair, tugging ever so slightly at the strands.

she looks up at you with the most confused gaze. you’ve never stopped her from going down on you before. had she gone too quick? had she made you uncomfortable, hurt you? there were a million questions running through her head. but, only one came out.

“what’s wrong, cupcake?” she asked, palms pressing into your thighs. she was in between your legs, calves thrown over her broad shoulders. she never tried to deny it was her favorite position. she could die with a smile if it meant being buried between your legs.

“you… don’t want me to…?” her breath was right on your pelvis as she looked up at you, almost like a confused puppy. “i mean, not gonna make you, you just— never say no, yknow?”

“i know, i—“ you blush a bit at being called out like that. she wasn’t lying, you never said no to her eating you out. not her fault her tongue game was diabolical, to say the least.

“it’s just…” you paused, caressing the back of her head slightly as you wonder how to phrase it, unsure of how she would react. until you said to hell with it… you’ve been dating for long enough. surely she would understand, right?

“i haven’t shaved,” you whispered, almost so quiet she couldn’t hear it.

she blinks up at you a few times, the silence stretching out between you. you can’t look at her, embarrassment growing.

“so-“

“so what?”

she cuts you off before you can finish your sentence, squeezing your thighs a little tighter.

“you think i care about that, babe?” she chuckled. it wasn’t a mocking sound, but it was genuinely amused. like the mere idea of her not pleasuring you because you haven’t shaved was ridiculous. because, to be fair, it was.

“come on. i spent years in prison. you think i shaved back then?” she hooked a thumb under the hem of your underwear, not letting you protest as she shuffles your thighs a bit so she can pull them off and be met with your already wet cunt—just waiting for her. she kisses your clit, open-mouthed and messy and needy. her nose is pressed against the hair you tried to hide, shamelessly, as she licks a long stripe from your swollen nub and down your slit, briefly licking your slick entrance. she pulls away only for a second, just to speak, breath hot against your exposed cunt:

“you’re fuckin’ crazy if you think a little hair’s gonna stop me from eating this pretty fucking pussy.”

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 © bootycallin on tumblr. do not copy, translate or cross post without permission. ᛝ

#╰┈➤BOOTYCALLIN⨾#𝟷𝟷:𝟷𝟷 ⋮ blurbs .#lesbian #wlw #arcane x female reader #arcane smut #arcane #vi arcane #vi x you #vi x reader #vi x female reader #x reader

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argonautsoul · 47 minutes ago

Text

“Oh, to be able to be admired, cared for, loved, without needing to do any other thing than existing. No need to fight. Just to care, and nourish one and each other...”

Love isn’t something you feel, though. It’s something you do. And so,

loving someone is loving who they are.

When people feel that they are not understood, it frequently is due to not enough empathy going both ways...

[Text ID: “I would have preferred if you had loved me less and understood me more.”]

Here, one is actually saying: “I was in love with the fantasy relationship I wanted him/her to give me, but s/he wasn't offering me that; (I didn't like the way s/he was treating me)”.

Whatever you understand about your partner is your perspective. It is not what s/he really is. Whatever you attribute to your partner is in relation to you.

True love is based on accepting each other as they are... and you can't love something that you actually don't like... you can't love the other one if you don't actually enjoy the way s/he makes you feel.

Preferences are more about us than the other person, so first, try to give yourself what you are seeking from your date or partner.

Love isn't about trying to change someone to fit our idea of perfect.

What's more,

Forever, one can not fully understand the other one at all. This is the beauty of how they were created. Therefore, there is conflict between them.

Even within ourselves, there are/can be some deep-seated subconscious behaviours and beliefs that we don’t understand.

It is about accepting the whole person, even the parts you don't fully understand or agree with.

People's personalities change and grow over time. As you go through life together, you'll see new sides of each other. True love allows for that growth and accepts the ever-changing nature of your partner, even as their outer personality shifts.

Any relationship is in a state of change, part of which is continuous knowledge of the other.

“Love isn’t a state of perfect caring. It is an active noun like struggle. To love someone is to strive to accept that person exactly the way he or she is, right here and now.”

— Fred Rogers

And hence, constant effort is needed to accept and adjust themselves to keep up with the changing lifestyles along the way with the changing society.

It takes time to grow together. And we want the maturity in a relationship that comes with time, the emotional connect that develops over years, that sense of belonging when we barely even know the other person... Apparently, nothing is worth our time, effort, and patience. Not even love. Relationships, however, require energy and participation.

Cognitive biases can be particularly damaging because they distort our perceptions and interpretations of our partners' actions and motives.

Cognitive bias is so difficult to acknowledge, understand, or be aware of within ourselves because we actively protect our beliefs. Sometimes, this means denying truth or new information that comes to us (a la cognitive dissonance).

In addition,

Depressed people don’t have the energy, and if they are caught up in the very common mode of isolation because of their depression they are definitely not participating... sometimes, there is an element of mental illness involved in this arena in general.

Lastly,

We don't really need an intellectual twin who can finish our sentences.

And that level of interconnection isn’t necessary. As long as they treat you appropriately, even if they don’t understand you completely, you can still have a very fulfilling relationship.

Love is a commitment, not about the mushy gushy feelings.

Let the commitment be the beginning of understanding.

══════☸☸☸══════

Too often, in this culture, we cloud the picture, overanalyze, fear those conscious efforts, and insist that love means something very definable and ultimately acceptable — don’t get sucked into the madness, stay in your true path and please, please find a partner who is similar to you (i.e., hold similar values), who cares about your thoughts and feelings, and genuinely enjoys your company.

And read “The 5 Love Languages” by Gary Chapman. It’s eye-opening to realize that someone may be figuratively shouting their love from the rooftops — but you aren’t “hearing” it. Communication is key, as long as you understand your partner’s language.

Margarita Karapanou, tr. by Karen Emmerich, from Rien ne va plus

[Text ID: “I would have preferred if you had loved me less and understood me more.”]

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harrysfolklore · 2 days ago

Note

Hi!!! i just saw the pictures of Carlos x 2 content for his last driver w ferrari and since there’s already a lot on piastri sis bonding with reyes, can we have piastri sis bonding with Carlos sr too

🥺👉🏼👈🏼

i really wanted to take on this request! i love my little bitches so much 🥹

The early morning Maranello sun caught the Ferrari badges as you walked hand-in-hand with Carlos toward the garage. His grip was slightly tighter than usual, betraying the emotion he was trying to contain.

"Ready?" you squeezed his hand.

"No," he admitted quietly. "But yes."

Carlos Sr. was already there, talking with the mechanics, but his face lit up when he saw you both. "Mis hijos!" [my kids]

Charles was there too, leaning against the garage wall in his puffer jacket. He straightened when he saw Carlos, and there was a moment of shared understanding between the teammates - soon to be former teammates.

"Don't make it weird, Leclerc," Carlos tried to joke.

"Me? Never," but Charles's voice was suspiciously rough as he pulled Carlos into a hug. "Save the tears for later, no?”

"Who's crying? I'm not crying."

"Of course not," you rolled your eyes fondly.

While Charles dragged Carlos off to inspect the cars, Carlos Sr. pulled you aside.

"How is he really?"

You watched Carlos run his hands over the Ferrari's nose cone, Charles pointing out something that made them both laugh.

"Emotional. Trying not to show it."

"Like his father," Carlos Sr. smiled sadly.

"Exactly like his father."

He chuckled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "You know, when he first told me about you, I knew."

"Knew what?"

"That you would understand us. The Sainz men - we feel everything so deeply, even when we pretend we don't."

"I noticed," you smiled. "The dramatic genes run strong."

"Hey!" but he was laughing. "We're not dramatic!"

"Carlos cried over a pizza last week."

"It was an emotional pizza!"

"See? Dramatic."

His expression softened. "You're good for him. For all of us. You understand this life, this passion."

"It's my life too."

"Si, it is. And..." he hesitated. "I want you to know, whatever comes next, whatever team, whatever challenges - you're our family. Mine and Reyes's daughter, not just Carlos' girlfriend."

Your throat tightened. "I- "

"No crying!" he warned, but pulled you closer. "We save tears for after, yes?"

"Charles said the same thing."

"Charles is smart boy. Sometimes."

Across the garage, Carlos and Charles were now arguing about something, gesturing wildly at the car while mechanics pretended not to laugh.

"Should we save them?" you asked.

"Let them have this moment," Carlos Sr. squeezed your shoulder. "Soon enough..."

You both watched as Carlos ran his hand along the Ferrari's sidepod, the gesture almost reverent.

"He'll be okay," you assured Carlos Sr.

"Of course he will. He has you."

"He has all of us."

"Si," Carlos Sr. nodded. "Always family first."

Charles's voice carried across the garage: "Carlos, stop being dramatic!"

"I'm not being dramatic!"

"You're stroking the car!"

"It's a goodbye caress!"

"See?" Carlos Sr. grinned. "Not dramatic at all."

You laughed, leaning into his embrace. "Not even a little bit."

Later, the garage had emptied, leaving just the two of you. Carlos was still in his race suit, pushed down to his waist, his Ferrari shirt underneath damp with emotion and exertion. He stood there, hand resting on the car's nose, lost in thought.

"Hey, little bitch," you said softly, coming up behind him.

He laughed wetly, not turning around. "Only you could make that sound loving."

"It's a gift."

When he finally faced you, his eyes were red but his smile was real. You reached up to wipe a smudge of tear track from his cheek.

"Last dance in red," you murmured.

"Was it good?"

"Perfect. You and your dad... that was something special."

He pulled you close, burying his face in your neck. You could feel him trembling slightly, letting go of the composure he'd held all day.

"I've got you," you whispered, running your fingers through his hair. "Let it out, baby.”

"I thought I was ready," his voice was muffled against your skin.

"You were. You are. Doesn't make it easier."

He lifted his head to look at you, and your heart ached at the naked emotion in his eyes. "What would I do without you?"

"Probably cry a lot more dramatically."

"I'm not dramatic!"

"Says the man who spent ten minutes saying goodbye to each tire."

"They needed proper farewells!"

You kissed him softly, feeling him melt into you. "My dramatic little bitch.”

"Your dramatic little bitch," he agreed against your lips. He laughed, the sound echoing in the empty garage. "God, I love you."

"I know."

"Even when you're mean to me."

"Especially then."

He kissed you again, deeper this time, pouring everything he couldn't say into it.

"Ready to go home?" you asked when you finally parted.

"One more minute," he turned to look at the car one last time, keeping you tucked against his side.

"Take all the time you need."

He pressed a kiss to your temple. "As long as you're here."

#little bitch #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz fanfiction #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz fic #carlos sainz fluff #cs55 x reader #cs55 fanfiction #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fanfiction #f1 fanfiction

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tyrannosaurus-maxy · 2 days ago

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"Your pain is our pain" and what RBR said to reassure Max after the Hungarian GP

“My understanding is there was a conversation after Hungary, in between Hungary and Belgium, and I think it was between Max and a bunch of the Red Bull hierarchy. It basically was a bit of a, look, Max, you're not on your own, because if you remember Hungary is where he felt really isolated, felt like he was being asked to do the impossible on strategy because Red Bull had screwed up. It wasn't quite that black and white, that he didn't have the full reading of the race situation. They hadn't communicated the strategy properly, and it turned out they had played the strategy wrong as well. And that just sort of created that scenario where Max is yelling like mad down the radio, and it felt like the cracks were really opening up at that point. Well, the upgrade was rubbish too, wasn't it? And the upgrade, yes, that was a key factor as well. So you had, and there was enough of the season left, but Max was genuinely worried about both titles. But they pulled that back. They just managed to wrap the relationship back up again to enough of a, look, we got that wrong, we are not leaving you exposed, we are there with you. And the way that Christian Horner put it to me when I interviewed him about this said, the message was, your pain is our pain. That was what they were really trying to get across. And apparently Max's response to that was fantastic in terms of the way that he was trackside, but also the effort that he went to with doing extra time in the factory. Max isn't that kind of Lewis Hamilton style figure in terms of seeing himself as a motivational type, but Max almost begrudgingly took that role on at times because he felt that he needed to speak to people at the factory and kind of gee everybody up. And it felt like this was Max as a leader in the second half of the year. And he stepped up in so many ways this year. You would think after a season like 23, the most dominant in F1 history. You can't really go up from there, but you can if you face a bit of adversity. And that is what Max had finally in 2024. And it's why I think it's his best title so far. Because I think he overcame something proper and he won that title."

The Race Podcast

#your pain is our pain 😭#Max Verstappen #f1 #formula 1 #Red Bull racing

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bonbonly · 1 day ago

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No bon its fine, i do also see oscar as the sweetest thing, thats why i maybe thought he always forgives you for not paying him with sex, until one day, after like 6 months of not doing anything, snaps and just comes to you and gives yoh an ultimatum either you ride his cock or leave entirely

anon you absolute slut i love you for this, because for the longest time i couldn't even see oscar as a sugar daddy and now im seeing the vision, you genius i am going to pull you onto my lap and make out with you for this ;alsdkjfasldkfja;sldkfjasd;lf LMFAO bon's thoughts (18+)

sugar!daddy oscar piastri who really isn't that entirely older than you. he understand how university life is, and he helps you sometimes. he asks some of his buddies for opportunities for you, and he definitely sends you big checks to help you buy whatever you need, and whatever you want. but there are some days where he really really wants to touch you, just to know what it's like to be inside you. you're absolutely stunning, you're always smiling at him and so he feels awkward bringing this up into a conversation because you seem content, everything's working out fine and he feels a bit too selfish for wanting to ask this of you. so he lets it slide. he's not your boyfriend, necessarily, so he keeps his boundaries and nods his head whenever you talk about sex to him. it's a normal topic, you say, but you're unaware that he's biting his knuckles not because it's a habit of his, but because his cock cannot stop craving to be inside your sweet cunt.

and you can imagine months later when he overhears a phone call with your friends about how one of your classmates invited you to the library to study only to eat you out, oscar's standing there in shock because all this time he was waiting and waiting only to realize that you had just completely ignored him. if you wanted to have sex with someone, he was right there for you! you're in his bedroom, giggling with your friends about masturbating to some porn videos you found online and that's his final straw. when you come down to tell him that you were heading back to your dorm, you see him sitting there with crossed arms and a glare on his face.

"what's wrong?" you ask.

"i'll tell you what's wrong," oscar scoffs, "here's how this is going to work, because i've lost all my patience. either you come over here and ride my cock that's been aching for you for months, or you step out this door to get back to your dorm and you never come back. everything stops between us."

and you raise an eyebrow, a grin on your face when you realize your sugar daddy's feeling jealous that you weren't giving him the attention he deserves. so like the good girl that you are, you straddle him, taking off your clothes and sinking down onto his cock which causes the both of you to moan out loud. all restrain is out the window, the man has his arms wrapped around you just in case you try to leave him without having his cum inside you, and he's thrusting his hips upward to meet your bounces. he's having you cum again and cum, relishing in the feeling of your walls clenching around his cock that just keeps gifting you wave after wave.

"fuck, from now on, you wanna fuck someone you tell me," he groans, "and when i want to have my dick inside you, you better have your cunt spread wide for me. oh my," he throws his head back, slapping your ass as you continue to ride him. you nod your head, telling him that you'll never leave him unattended ever again. he's wrapped around your finger, permanently.

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lostsoulofdragon · 1 day ago

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Hey, aroace here! I’d like to share my view of this issue here.

so, I mostly identify as female, and a super close friend of mine as male. Normally, many, MANY people around us started to see us as a couple, that probably dated in secret.

truth is, no, we’re just best friends. Even my other bestie shipped us (but she didn’t press us to show how ‘together’ we were, it was more of a joke with her, and that is something I personally don’t mind to much). But he just helped me out of a really really fucked up part of my life. I was suicidal, probably depressed, tried to end it, and I was practicing light SH.

he got me out of there by simply being a friend, supporting and listening to me.

we had little to no contact before that, and suddenly, we were bestest of friends. then the rumors set in. “Oh, you’re a cute couple! You’re a couple right? No? Well you should be!”

even my family, who I’ve stated to multiple times that I’m NOT interested in a relationship started to ask me if he was my boyfriend, and when I declined, they went ‘that’s a loss, he’s a nice guy!’

I don’t understand why platonic love and friendship are so underrated, almost seen as invaluable in this society. I’ve always felt pressured to get a relationship, and when I did get into one, I could not manage to take it seriously. To me, it was just weird. Why should I kiss and hold hands, when I’m perfectly fine with the occasional hug or just a playful shove? Why do I need to strive to be married when it just means sharing rent and blowing money on a ceremony? Why should I push my friends, who I’ve grown to like- REALLY REALLY like- into the background for someone who could leave even easier than them? And why should I then be heartbroken over it?

I just don’t get it. I wish we as a society would start accepting that no, friendships and platonic relationships are NOT necessary. Love and sex are NOT mandatory for a fulfilled life. If you want that to be a goal for you, it’s TOTALLY FINE. Just don’t go and try and press it onto others, that have different goals.

((a song that does a good job explaining how an especially Aromantic person feels about this is (in my opinion, which is NOT what you should take as a norm) ‘Aromantic’ by Mike Fonzarelli Roberts.))

Normalize super close friendships instead of assuming there must be a romantic and/or sexual factor—friends are a wonderful treasure!

#Soul talks #i just wanted to rant about this #no being good friends does NOT mean we want to marry or have sex or kids or spent an eternity as a stereotypical relationship #we just wanna be friends #thats just my view on all this

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ghostwhippet · 17 hours ago

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From Scratch

Nutrition Info: Johnny/Reader; 4k; a meetcute launched by Reader's inability to cook reasonable portions, and Johnny's... well, just Johnny

No matter how long you live alone, you can’t get the hang of cooking for one person. Even when you try to make a single-serving meal instead of batch cooking, somehow it balloons out of control. Wasting food makes you feel awful, but you can only freeze so much.

One evening, desperate and utterly fed up, you go kick gently at a neighbor’s door, both hands full, trying to mimic a knock with your shoe. Jason, you think his name was? Striking blue eyes, big frame, a cute cropped mohawk, amazing brogue, and he’s always been cordial when you’ve run into him around the building. Friendly, but not too friendly.

He’s understandably confused by your request at first, but seems happy enough for the food, and takes it around your repeated apologies–for bothering him, for existing, for anything you can find, really.

Unfortunately, not even forcing yourself to go and do all of that manages to pierce your shite sense of volume. Your trips to his door do get less awkward over time, though. And Johnny, his name is, always has sparklingly clean dishes and containers to return in exchange for the full ones.

Eventually he just starts showing up at your place instead and eats with you at your bar counter. He didn’t really ask, and you definitely didn’t, but there he is all the same, and… if you're honest? He’s just so easy to be around, it quickly feels natural having him there. He puts you off your guard, puts you at ease and makes you smile, like those are somehow the most natural things in the world.

From that first night, Johnny has insisted on helping with dishes. Starting the second, he’s always got groceries with him. Even manages to talk you out of your discomfort over accepting them, so well that on his fourth night, you’ve got a small shopping list ready. He’s cheeky, you don’t think he’ll mind. And he is right, after all: you're probably feeding him at least three or four nights out of the week, what with all the leftovers.

You start eating better, and trying new things you'd always planned on “getting around to,” now that you've got a reason to cook beyond not starving. Everything comes out fine the first time you make it, when you’re closely following a recipe, and Johnny has no qualms about trying anything you put in front of him. You’ve never met someone so genuinely un-fussy when it comes to food.

A couple months after he’s started eating at your place, he disappears for a while. “Work trip,” is all he'll say, and you don’t pry, even though you really want to.

Once he’s back, he starts coming over weekend afternoons sometimes. You do brunch with beer or fancy drinks in champagne flutes, or occasional breakfast on the roof before other people are awake, him in a big hoodie or jumper, and you wearing a thick blanket like it's trying to digest you, looking like a half-drowned cat because no living being is meant to be awake at such an hour.

That’s probably the official start of his sous chef arc. And that’s what has him spending a night judging your knives and marveling, repeatedly and loudly, that you still have all your fingers.

You cut fruit into mangled flowers and vague geometric shapes for the brunches, usually while just spending time with him. He tries his hand at it once, with you pulling up videos, laughing the whole time you’re explaining how it’s supposed to work, and the utter bastard is better at it on his first go than you were after weeks. His hands are confoundingly steady, and his hand-eye coordination borders on the unnatural.

You might put a piece of eggshell into his omelet that night in retaliation, and he might not even have the decency to react to it.

“...Johnny I can hear it crunching, oh my God would you spit it out!” You manage between laughter that’s got your face hurting.

That happens a lot around him. Smiling so much it hurts.

“Nah, i’s nice texture,” he says around the mouthful, then starts enunciating the longer words. “Very advanced technique. Shows a great awareness of the culinary experience–”

“You’re being such a prat. Why are you being such a prat!”

He talks over you as if he can’t hear you, as if he’s doing some mockingly posh review. “And honestly, the crunching–” he pauses and chomps down on the shell for effect, and how is it still intact, “it really engages the senses. Keeps me immersed in my dining experience.”

You regret loaning him your cooking books. Never again.

After that, though, he steals your knives, takes them home, and they come back so sharp you can cut windowpane slices of potato. He offers to teach you how to do it yourself–after stipulating with heart-clenching thoroughness that he’s happy to come over and do it for you any time.

Johnny gets weirdly into shopping farmer’s markets, walking around discovering new produce and varieties of things he’s never seen before. “Fuck would I know tomatoes come in this color? Look at this thing, it’s like a feckin’... it’s a wee lumpy sunset, isn’t it? And this! Like someone took the heart of a dragon,” his voice had gone terribly dramatic, and you definitely hadn’t covered your face, “and stuck it on a bush somewhere.”

“Baby how are you so huge, but so adorable?” You don't know when the pet names started, but you know he started them; sometimes it feels like you two grew up together.

You like the challenge of the new and unexpected ingredients that come from his trips, and by this point, he’s keeping your kitchen pretty stocked with whatever oddball pantry items you ask for, so you're set up to deal with almost anything. But on rare occasions he’ll call you with a question, too. You’ve had each other’s numbers for a while, it just made coordinating easier.

“Oi can you make sommat with uh… fiddlehead ferns?”

You always can, whatever he asks about. It just takes a quick internet search to find out if you can tackle it that same night, or if it needs to wait for another day. Sometimes it ends up disastrous, but like a shot, Johnny has you laughing or throwing something at him (usually-but-not-always also while laughing) before guilt or shame can get a proper foothold.

There was a night when he was too excited about something to wait for you to answer the door when he knocked, and since then, he just sort of comes in on his own after he announces himself—at least when you know to expect him. That feels right, too, just like having him at your counter had.

You’re feeding the both of you almost every night of the week by now, even if you’re still not cooking often. You like being around him so much, you can’t imagine doing it less, not even when cooking is the last thing you want to be doing. It’s like there’s a bubbly little sun in your chest when he’s around.

Johnny makes you so happy, in fact, and you’re so afraid of losing your time with him, it’s nearly six months before the first time you have to tap out of a dinner, too knackered to make yourself even casually presentable, nevermind cook so much as instant noodles.

He reacts like it’s no problem at all, which of course he’d do, because he’s wonderful, but you don’t manage to keep your heart from dropping that he’s not at least a little sad. That he doesn’t, maybe, look forward to the nights like you do. You know your arrangement is practical, and he’s never been over unless there was food involved, but… well… seeing him seems to have become rather… vital to you.

Which means it’s better to put it away, anyhow, right?

So when, an hour after you’d texted him and basically all he’d said was No problem, thinking takeout, any votes?, he’s coming through your front door with delivery bags and talking a mile a minute like it’s just another night, you're left with your mouth open and your hand on the knob, because… because he's here.

You're not cooking, but he's still here.

You just stand there gobsmacked as he sits on the couch, nattering away, half the food out before he even realizes you’re still playing doorstop. He asks if you’re having the time of your life or if you’re going to come sit down, those horrible (wonderful) crinkles at the sides of his eyes, brows pulled up in the middle.

He looks confused when you say you want to freshen up, like he can’t see that your hair might’ve lost a row with a feral rodent, or that you’re wearing clothes that shouldn’t even be outside of a bin, nevermind on a person. He just tells you the food will get cold, and that it’ll be no good that way.

So you run your hands through your hair and sit, subdued and uncertain like you haven’t been around him in ages, as he amiably fills the silence. You know he can tell you’re not right, but he’s just… acting like it’s ok that you aren’t.

Midway through the meal, he reaches forward to grab a container and put it in front of you, and it makes his knee come up against yours.

It doesn’t move away when he sits back.

Then, as the night wears on and the very most jagged edges of your weariness have eased, he makes a joke and you bump your shoulder into him in retaliation. It pushes your legs flush… and neither of you do anything to separate them. He just keeps on being Johnny like nothing is different, like nothing strange is happening, like he can’t see how bloody flushed you must be, like the room hasn't turned to glass and burst, leaving the both of you toppling through the air.

You're not stupid, so you have to tell yourself repeatedly that he’s just trying to comfort you. He’s acting completely normal otherwise—for Johnny—and you look like a person in need of a friend tonight. And same as him, you’re at all your meal nights instead of off with friends or dates. At least for him, it’s because of his career. You haven’t even seen him bringing up a new fling in ages.

…You’re not stupid. Right?

After the food is finished, Johnny putters about cleaning up, working his way around your kitchen like he knows it exactly as well as he does. He puts all but one container of leftovers in your fridge.

You hug your knees comfortably, just sort of watching him, too full of static to be paranoid about it, and he either doesn’t realize or isn’t bothered by it. Not being a complete creep, you don’t keep it up for too long, anyhow. You’ve got plenty to occupy your thoughts.

He surprises you on his way out by casually setting a mug in front of you. He’d made you something hot to drink while he was cleaning up, and you were so spaced you hadn’t realized. He just gives you a little smile, a gentle squeeze on the shoulder with a stroke of his thumb, says, “Wednesday, yeah?” (the night of your next normal get-together), and moves on toward the door. All normal. But there’s some metal in your chest painfully bending itself into unaccustomed shapes, jabbing places that aren’t used to the pressure, pushing into your windpipe until it’s hard to breathe, and you can’t stop yourself from telling him that you made up a new seasoning blend for popcorn, if he’d maybe like to watch a movie before he goes.

He stands there by the door looking at you just for a split second too long, opens his mouth, closes it, then settles right back onto the couch up next to you. He reaches out an arm and pulls you gently into his side, moving in a way that makes it an invitation and not a demand, while he’s talking about what to watch.

You fall asleep there. So does he.

You keep up the dinners and the weekends, and eventually, finally realize that with him around to take all your extras, you can bake. It’s something you’ve wanted to try forever, but recipes don’t really make single servings, and you never had anyone to pawn off the other 22 muffins or ¾ of the cake onto, or the sheet of croissants, because you absolutely want to try the most fussy, difficult things. And it turns out, when at last he tells you what he does, that Johnny works at the local military base–which at least explains his size–so if he can’t polish something off, well, he knows some blokes.

Things turn a bit funny after that in a way you can’t quite put your finger on. At the surface, everything is the same. But nothing feels the same. Every time there’s a tease, casual touches, close quarters, you have to chant not stupid not stupid not stupid on repeat in your head. He’s just Johnny, that’s all. The guy you could have grown up with.

You’re so excited after that, things almost seem to return to normal. He even comes over and hangs out while you’re baking sometimes. Just knocking about, licking the beaters and the spoons and the bowls, doing dishes as you go, fidgeting with this or that, all while knowing you’re equally as likely to produce something inedible as you are a treat.

But at least now you understand why he’s on his own. And you suppose you’re a bit small, because while you’re incredibly sad for him, part of you is thrilled that it means he’s not likely soon going to be swept away by someone else too soon.

Johnny tells you a little about his career one evening. He says that it means he’s in real danger often, there’s a lot of secrecy with people in his personal life, long absences and surprise ones, shit pay, and likely a brief expiration date. (You don’t really let that last one in). He’s got a bit of a funny look in his eyes when he shares about all of it. Quite focused on you, in a way? It makes your cheeks heat. It isn’t as if it’s on you to approve of his life.

You just gather yourself up, smile, and tell him that at least he’s spending the time he has as best he can, which is a hell of a lot more than a lot of people do–although you personally hope there’s a lot more of it. And that… at the end, you're glad for all the times you're involved.

Johnny’s leaning against the counter while you fold nuts and rum-soaked fruit into a thick batter, his normally busy hands jammed into his pockets, posture a bit off, and so close you almost keep elbowing him on accident, the two of you just bantering back and forth.

You turn your head toward him to fire back, and–

–his mouth is just there, on yours.

He lingers, but doesn’t move otherwise. It’s… testing, you think. You feel his lips shake against yours, in fact, just once.

Your shock dies fast and your eyes slip closed, and while it’s a brief kiss, when he pulls away, you don’t open them. You can’t. Because if you’re honest, you’ve probably been gone for him since the first time you gave him a friendly hug goodnight, and it’s only ever gotten worse. If you open your eyes, this won’t be real, or it won’t have happened, or it will shatter somehow.

After a pause, he runs the back of a finger down your temple, trailing the side of your face to your jaw. You still won’t open your eyes, so he just toys with your face until you do.

“Been wanting to do that for a long time,” he admits into the quiet.

He’s got a soul-crushing smile at the corners of his eyes.

“...Oh?” Your voice is embarrassingly, unhelpfully breathy. It’d probably be mortifying, if you had the mental capacity to fully register embarrassment at the moment.

“Oh?”

He pauses, smile making its way to his lips, and curling them up at the corners, bit by bit. He cants his head, just a little, like he wants to see you from another angle. “Aye. …Might’ve been since the first time I saw you at the mailboxes.”

That had been one of the first times you remember ever seeing him. He never said a word to you other than, “Mornin’” or “Evenin’,” if he said anything at all.

His smile blooms until you can see his teeth. “You were wearing this little shirt. Green, thin. Bit worn, like it was a favorite. Showed a wee spot of skin at your back.” His fingers brush the spot, soft and testing, near the base of your spine, and it jolts you from scalp to toes. “Might’ve… lost some time, thinking about what it’d feel like if I slid my hand up there.” He toys with the hem of your shirt and steps in, voice going deeper and rougher around the edges. “Might’ve imagined pushing it up, getting a bit closer. Really might’ve imagined putting your back up to the slots, mo–”

You kiss him this time, before he can go on, and it’s anything but testing.

And just like everything else about him, this fits.

His mouth fits against yours. His body fits against yours. And as if some band of control snaps, so abruptly you swear you feel it jolt through his skin, he's got you up on the counter, his thighs between yours, both of you already breathing hard.

His hands on you are perfect, calloused, slipping up under the back of your shirt, smoothing and gripping, making your chest and your thighs feel molten. It's ravenous, like he just has to touch your skin, has to get you closer. You arch toward him, fingers running up through his hair, legs curling around his and pulling him nearer.

His hips are carefully, stubbornly, infuriatingly back from you, but the kiss is so full of need, so close, that some of his breaths sound hollow against your mouth. It's like he can't decide whether inhaling or devouring you is more important, so he just doesn't choose.

When you're at the point of moaning unintentionally, of hungry little sounds forcing their way out of your chest, of your hips moving against the counter in desperation, when you're moments from outright begging, Johnny pulls back, and goes further when you try to chase his mouth.

His lips are red and full, his face dark--much worse when he catches sight of how completely drunk you must look--and he's panting. His fingers dig into your hips like he's trying to keep one or both of you from drowning. He squeezes his eyes shut.

You don't mean to, you really don't, but you look down, and lord help you but–

“That looks painful,” you tell him. Your voice sounds like it's been run over a washboard. He's tented against his denim, and his size is… proportional.

…You can't seem to remember how to make yourself look up.

“Really rather not talk about my cock just now, love,” he gravels, fingers clenching briefly against you. His head tips forward onto your shoulder, breaths panting out against your collar bone, leaving you to pick up every bit of heat he's trying to get out of himself.

You hum, teasing. “Shame, because I can't think of anything I'd rather talk ab—”

His big paw covers your mouth. “For the love of every Saint, I’m beggi—”

You cut him off right back. By licking his palm.

He recoils in horror, but the moment your eyes meet, you both burst into laughter, made worse every time he tries to tell you how disgusting that is, something about his sisters as kids, you don't know what else.

You're the first to sober, breathing almost back to normal, thoughts already whirring on fast-forward. You look down, pulling your knees together, hands gripping the edge of the counter. “Are we…. Will we be ok, after this?”

You peek up to see him looking at you like you're daft.

“‘S been the better part of a year,” he says softly, moving forward and running his thumbs over your knees. Asking your legs to make room again, to let him get close again. “Have you really not figured it out, all this time?”

Your legs open hesitantly, and he steps in and, when you look up at him, kisses one corner of your mouth, then the other, slow and warm and so tender it feels like your chest is cracking right down the center.

Eyes closed, brows a little pinched, you murmur, “We can't all be SAS savants, Johnny.” Maybe you know. Maybe. But it has been all this time, so maybe you need to hear it, too.

He's still kissing, pace unhurried and savouring, making his way to your jaw and just beneath it. But it's calming now, somewhere between reverential and still trying to bring the both of you down. Himself especially, you think.

“Then let me spell it out for you. Gladly.” He noses up against the bottom of your ear and roughs, “You are fucking stuck with me. Glued. Bloody welded.” He huffs a laugh and leans back upright—but not all the way, not too far back. “This isnae a new thing for me. You know that, right? I just….” He shakes his head and abandons the thought, “Hell, my mates have already been asking when they can come over for dinner, the dobbers.”

Your brows shoot up. “You've talked about me at work?”

He looks down, and while his face is in half a scowl, you'd swear he does it to hide a slight flush, too. “Haven't shut up about you, more like. Should hear what my Lieutenant– Ach, nevermind that.”

You hurry to say that they're welcome any time, but it makes him scowl fully.

“Not exactly keen on the idea just yet.” He puts his arms around you, buries his face in your neck, and just stands there, breathing you in. He mutters into the crook of your shoulder, “Mind if I stay like this for a bit? Just while I, uh… calm down.”

His hips are still well back from you. You’re not sure you’ve ever adored and hated him so much at once.

“I’d really like that,” you tell him softly, arms going around his ribs, hands on his shoulders, chest to chest.

It's warm and resounding like this, so after a spell, without thinking, you bite his shoulder. Just sink your teeth in and leave them there. It’s not even entirely conscious, it's just so comfortable and comforting.

“All good, there, wee piranha?” he eventually asks, a smile in his voice.

He groans. “Are ye trying to do me in?”

You detach instantly. “Ah, sorry! I, uh, might have a tiny bit of an oral fixation.”

“I’m not the one who said we had to stop, Mr. Military Discipline.”

His eyes darken in a flash, but he tamps down on it just as quickly and gets that godawful cocky look on his face, instead. “Pardon me for not wanting to rush something that really matters.” His tone goes so soft at the end that you can’t even be mad at him--exactly as you know he intended, the great bastard.

“How did I not know what a sadist you are?”

And that look means he’s about to make you eat your words.

“Johnny I will happily kill you in your sleep.”

“I could handle that. Means you'd be in my bed, aye?”

He pulls your hands up from the death grip they've found on the edge of the counter and laces your fingers together. “I dinnae….” He clears his throat, frowns. “Just being away on deployment is shite now, and I love what I do. But I miss you while I'm gone, think about you back here all the bloody time, and we havnae even….”

When he doesn’t finish, you whisper, heart clenching with the realization, “You don't want to rush this.”

He laughs quietly like he wants to argue. But what he says is, “No. I don't. But while that's true….” He steps in, chin ducking, eyes darkening even as they shine, voice lowering. “What do you say we turn the oven off? I've a funny feeling you willnae be getting around to that bake today.”

Masterlist

#johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish fanart #cod soap #john soap mactavish #soap cod #soap x reader #johnny mactavish #slow burn #friends to lovers #060 #meet cute #comfort fic #demisexual #fluff

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genderqueerdykes · 2 days ago

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btw 'syscourse' and plural infighting isn't accomplishing anything. back in the late 90s and early 2000s, the only communities and resources for plurals that were widely available were for and by non-traumagenic systems. the only people who were advocating for normalizing and accepting plurality on a large scale were non-traumagenic systems. if you did research into plurality 10 - 15 years ago, most of the results that came up would have been experiences written by spiritual and natural plurals.

many people at the time were expressing their dislike of forcing every single plural to identify as if they had trauma- many found this insulting to themselves, and rightfully so! no one should be forced to identify in a way they don't agree with just to rightfully be a part of a community they already occupy. this obsession with "you can only be plural if you have trauma" has only come about extremely recently. i found out about plurality through the otherkin community. i was actually told about DID by someone in the spiritual plurality community. people don't seem to understand that most non-traumagenic systems have respect for traumagenic systems and don't gatekeep their spaces to prevent us from entering.

older plural spaces on the web like healthymultiplicity accepted all plurals. the goal of the community was to show that you can live as plural and not have it be a tragedy or something to "fix". if anything, folks with dissociative disorders owe a LOT to non-traumagenic systems for pushing to normalize plurality without implying that we HAVE to integrate our headmates and try to stop being plural. a huge part of the early online plural community was there to push that plurals can and do live happy lives and shouldn't view their plurality as a bad thing

it's not going to make singlet society see us in a better light. it's not going to get people to understand plurality better. it's not going to get us better mental health resources. it's not going to improve the quality of care for dissociative and traumagenic systems. all you're doing is bullying someone else that you don't understand simply because you don't agree with them.

you're not going to recover from your trauma or understand your own plurality better by denying the existence of other types of plurality. you're not "making the community safer" by gatekeeping. telling other people how their brains work is policing their identities. whether or not you want to accept it, if you forcefully kick endos out of plural spaces, you are the cop you claim to hate.

fighting with people on your own team will never net you a victory. to every other dissociative and traumagenic system: endos are on your side. you are wearing the same jersey. you are made of the same flesh and blood. enough. come together to share your similarities instead of fighting over differences. celebrate the diversity that plurality offers. don't take someone else's identity personally. someone can share the space with you without having to match exactly how you identify. diversity is what makes a community thrive.

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keeryhours · 3 days ago

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(not so) silent night - rafe cameron

Baby daddy! Rafe x Baby mama! Maybank! reader

Masterlist

Rafe Cameron Masterlist

More Baby Daddy! Rafe

Summary:

You spend Christmas with Rafe and Iris, and Rafe has a surprise for you.

Warnings:

Smut (18+), p in v, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, drinking, mostly a lot of fluff!

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N:

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate! I hope you enjoy this little Baby daddy! Rafe story!

—

The lights twinkled brilliantly on the outside of the house, multicolored bulbs lighting up the night. Iris looked on with wide eyes, taking in the sight. It was her first real Christmas where she would kind of understand what was going on.

Rafe climbed down the ladder, walking to the front of the house where the two of you stood. You were still a little unsteady from the accident, but had been healing nicely. You held Iris in your arms.

“How’s it look?” Rafe asked, turning around to look at his work once he’d reached you.

“Pwetty!” Iris exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

Rafe smiled at her, running his fingers through her soft light brown hair. “You like ‘em?”

She clapped again, then reached for her dad. He gladly took her from your arms, and you were glad because it was starting to hurt a little.

“Looks great,” you said, smiling softly at the two of them. Rafe beamed, looking proud of what he’d done. “It’s beautiful. I love it. Thank you for doing this for us.”

“Ah, it’s no problem,” Rafe said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Anything for my girls.”

You technically still weren’t “Rafe’s girl” anymore, but someone would have to tell him that. Since the accident, he’d been around a lot more often. Always looking for ways to help, for excuses to come over. You needed a lightbulb changed, batteries replaced? He was there. It was nice when it came to things like this, when you wanted to decorate the house for Christmas but JJ didn’t feel like doing it for you.

“Ready to go do the tree?” You asked Iris, a big smile on your face.

“Tree!” She said, throwing her arms in the air. Rafe smiled down at her, the look on his face one of pride.

The three of you headed back inside out of the cold. Everything was on the living room floor, ready to put up. The tree was still in its box, the tote full of ornaments and decorations sitting next to it.

Rafe sat Iris down and she skipped over, looking at the stuff as you lifted the lid off the tote. It was filled with ornaments and decorations, some store bought and some handmade.

He pulled the tree out of its box and started setting it up while you sorted through ornaments. He had it put together in no time, then got to work fluffing the branches out.

“Oh my god, remember this?” You asked, bringing out a round clay ornament. Iris’ 6 month old footprints were stamped into it, painted to look like reindeer.

Rafe smiled wistfully, taking the ornament from your hands and examining it. “She was so small.” He hung it on the tree.

You handed Iris some of the round unbreakable ornaments. She took them to the tree and Rafe bent down and helped her hang them on the branches. She dropped them a few times, but eventually got them on and came back for more.

You kept handing her ornaments for her to put on with Rafe’s help. He held her up to help her put some higher on the tree. It was really coming together.

You pulled out one of the last ornaments from the tote, a plastic ball ornament with a picture of the three of you in the hospital inside, along with Iris’ hospital bracelet and hat. You looked at the photo, then at the toddler and the man in front of you. Tears welled in your eyes and your heart swelled in your chest, filling you with so much love for your little family, no matter how unconventional.

Rafe was smiling at Iris, helping her hang another ornament. He turned to look at you, and his smile dropped, seeing the tears in your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

You showed him the ornament, and his expression softened. He took it from your hands, looking at the photo up close. It had been the happiest day of both of your lives, despite not being together. Rafe had been amazing, there hadn’t been a single argument. It was just a beautiful experience and it gave you the best gift you ever could have dreamed of.

“She was so tiny,” he mused. “We should have another one.”

You raised your eyebrows at him. “I don’t know about all that.”

Rafe laughed. “One of these days you’ll give me another one, huh?”

You blushed, looking back into the tote of decorations and pulling out a long garland. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Rafe smiled even bigger. “I think my odds are pretty good. I gave you a cute one the first time.”

“You did,” you agreed, laughing as you untangled the pine garland. “We’ll see.”

When you were done with the decorations, you held Iris as you looked over the tree. Rafe plugged it into the wall and it lit up with multicolored lights. It looked beautiful. You smiled and Iris clapped her hands together, giggling.

“You like it?” He asked, coming over to join you. “I think it came out pretty good.”

“Looks amazing,” you said honestly. “I love it. Thank you for helping us today.”

Rafe placed a kiss to the top of Iris’ head, then to yours. “I’d do anything for you two.”

—

Christmas Eve came faster than you expected. Rafe was over again, spending the evening with you and Iris. You were all in the kitchen, helping Iris make little balls of cookie dough and place them on the baking sheet.

“Are you ready for Santa to come tonight?” You asked her, watching as she stood on her step stool and smushed the cookie dough in her small hands.

She nodded, although she still didn’t exactly understand. You and Rafe had been telling her about Santa, and she seemed excited, but she was still too young to fully get it.

“There’s gonna be lots of toys,” Rafe told her, which made her whole face light up.

When you were done placing the dough, Rafe took her into the living room to start the movie while you put the tray in the oven.

You walked in to see The Polar Express starting. You were all dressed in matching red Christmas pajamas - it surprised you that you were able to get Rafe to agree, but he didn’t even put up a fight. He had been much different since the car accident, wanting to do anything he could to make you happy.

You snuggled on the couch with Iris between you, watching the movie together. She had never seen it, but she was entranced. She loved the hot chocolate song. It didn’t take long for the cookies to be done baking, so you headed back into the kitchen to take them out and let them cool while they kept watching.

When the movie was over, you all went back into the kitchen to decorate the cookies. You gave Iris her own icing bag, and you were pretty sure more of it ended up in her mouth than on the cookies.

You decorated your cookies in typical Christmas designs, Santa faces and snowflakes and Christmas trees. Iris’ were scribbles of icing. Rafe decorated his with…dicks?

“Rafe!” You scolded him.

“What?” He said, looking at you like he was innocent. “She doesn’t know what they are!”

Before bedtime, you set the cookies on a plate with a glass of milk. Rafe helped you give her a bath and get her dressed for bed, then you both gave her a good night kiss as you left her half asleep in her crib.

You closed the door softly behind you. “I’m so excited for tomorrow,” you whispered.

“Me too.” Rafe followed you down the hall. “I’m sad I have to leave.”

You bit the inside of your lip as you thought. “You don’t have to leave.”

He looked at you, stupid grin on his face. “You don’t want me to go?”

“Not really,” you admitted. JJ was out and you didn’t really want to spend Christmas Eve alone. “We could watch another movie. Have some eggnog.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.�� He smiled at you again, so softly and with so much love that you felt it in your chest. You returned the look, wanting desperately to reach out and touch him, to kiss him.

You watched Home Alone together, sharing eggnog with rum. You were both feeling a little tipsy by the end of the movie, giggling together and bringing up old happy memories.

“Remember when we took Iris to the store when she was first learning to talk, and that old lady was talking to her?” Rafe laughed. “And Iris just looked at her and said, ‘Shit!’”

You both laughed hard, remembering how hard it had been to get her to stop using that word, especially when you couldn’t stop giggling whenever she did.

“She gets that from you,” you teased, nudging him with your foot in your fuzzy socks.

“Yeah, well,” he said, running a hand over his hair. “She gets a lot from me.”

“That’s true.” You couldn’t stop smiling. You hadn’t felt this happy in ages.

Rafe rubbed your legs resting in his lap. “You’re so beautiful.”

The words caught you off guard, and you blushed furiously. “Stop.”

“I mean it. I’ve always meant it.” He looked at you, so much swimming behind his eyes. “You are seriously the most beautiful girl on the island. Well, next to Iris.”

You laughed again. “True. Iris is the most beautiful girl on the island.”

Rafe moved your legs off his lap, scooting closer to you. He placed a hand on your cheek, his thumb gently caressing the skin. Then he was leaning in and your eyes were fluttering closed and his lips were on yours.

Your heart beat hard in your chest as he kissed you. His touch on your face was like electricity, sending shivers through your body. His lips moved against yours slowly at first, the kiss gentle and full of love. You pulled him closer, kissing him a little more eagerly now.

He pulled you onto him so you were straddling his lap, never breaking the kiss. His tongue slipped into your mouth, moving against your own as you moaned into the kiss. You rolled your hips down against him and he groaned, you could feel how hard he was getting already.

His hands moved down to your hips, guiding you to keep grinding against him. “Fuck, I’ve missed this,” he said, a little breathless from the frantic kissing. He kissed the corner of your lips before trailing down your jawline and to your neck. You tilted your head, giving him access to do whatever he wanted. He placed gentle kisses there first before nipping at your skin, making you moan as he started to suck on the spot.

“Let’s go to my room,” you said, eyes closed and head tilted back as he worked at your neck.

You didn’t have to tell him again. Rafe grabbed your thighs and stood, lifting you easily as you squealed and wrapped your arms around his neck. You kissed him again as he carried you down the hall and to your bedroom, dropping you down on your soft mattress.

He pulled his pajama top over his head, revealing his toned chest. You wanted to reach out and touch him, but he was already reaching for you, hooking his fingers in the waist of your pajama pants and pulling them down, tossing them away. He ran his hands up your smooth legs, feeling all over.

His hands trailed up until he was pushing your top up, lifting it off and getting rid of that, too. You hadn’t had a bra underneath, wanting to be comfortable tonight. Rafe placed kisses all over your chest, his tongue sliding over one of your nipples and making you gasp. He took it into his mouth, sucking on it as his hand pinched at your other one. You arched your back into his mouth - you were soaked already.

He moved his mouth to the other nipple, giving it the same attention. You moaned, fingers trailing over the muscles of his back. “Feels so good, Rafe.”

Rafe hummed, not stopping for a second. He began kissing down your body slowly, down your stomach and to the waistband of your panties. He pulled them down tantalizingly slowly, then spread your legs for him, laying between your legs.

“I’ve been wanting to taste you all night,” he murmured, two of his fingers spreading your folds as he licked a stripe along your pussy. You cried out, hands tangling in the bed sheets as he sucked at your clit, his tongue doing all the things to you he remembered you loved.

He pushed a finger into you, and you writhed beneath him as he began pumping it into you, before quickly adding a second finger, curling them deep inside so they pressed right against that spot he knew made you fall apart.

“Rafe!” You cried, your hips grinding up against his mouth as he devoured your pussy like he’d been starving for it. “Fuck, ohmygod, feels so good.”

Rafe groaned against you, moving his fingers faster as he licked at your pussy, tasting every bit of your wetness. He was determined to make you cum on his tongue and fingers, and your release was building fast.

“‘m so close,” you whined, wishing his hair was longer again so you could pull on it like you used to. “Please please don’t stop.”

“Go on and cum for me, baby,” Rafe said, before moving right back to bury his face in your pussy. He wrapped his lips around your clit again, sucking gently as he moved his tongue over it.

Your orgasm crashed into you hard, you rolled your hips up against his mouth over and over as you came. “Rafe! Rafe, oh fuck, Rafe-“

“That’s it, baby, good girl,” he praised, fingers still pressing right against that spot that was making your orgasm feel neverending. “You look so pretty when you cum for me.”

He didn’t remove his fingers until you had completely come down, then he was kissing up your body again, his face hidden in your neck as he kissed and sucked at the skin there again.

“Want you so bad,” you whined, rolling your hips up against the erection in his pajama pants.

Rafe sat up, pushing his pants and boxers down, his cock already painfully hard. You looked at it hungrily, wanting nothing more than to have him inside you right that second.

You trailed your hand slowly over his chest, making his cock twitch as his eyes fell closed. “I like it when you touch me like that.”

“Yeah?” You felt all over, his muscles flexing beneath your touch. “You’re so hot.”

Rafe laughed, leaning over your body again. “You’re the sexiest girl I’ve ever seen.” He kissed you, tongue dipping into your mouth again. You could taste yourself on him.

He lined himself up at your entrance, then pushed inside, slowly. It had been a while since you’d slept together, and Rafe was big. He knew to take it gently with you.

You whined as he pushed inside, the feeling intense but incredible. He bottomed out inside of you, groaning into your neck.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so tight,” he gritted out, taking every bit of self control in his body to not immediately start pounding you senseless. “Feels so fucking good.”

“You can move,” you told him, needing to feel him filling you over and over again. “Want you to fuck me.”

Rafe groaned again at your words, but immediately obeyed, pulling out until only his tip remained and then rolling his hips back into you. You both moaned at the feeling, your back arching as he filled you so deeply.

He set a slow pace at first, fucking you slow and deep. Making love, even.

He looked into your eyes as he thrusted into you slowly and deliberately, cock pressing against the bundle of nerves inside you again. It felt amazing. “I love you. I love you so much.”

Your heart felt like it could burst out of your chest. “I love you too, Rafe.”

“I mean it. I love you so fucking much.” He kissed you deeply, conveying all the emotions he was feeling through it.

“I love you too, I love you too,” you told him, feeling like you could cry but holding it back because it would be incredibly embarrassing to start crying during sex.

Rafe smiled at you, kissing you again. You began rolling your hips up against him, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him into you with every thrust. He groaned louder, speeding up his pace.

“Fuck- babe, not gonna last long,” he said, reaching down and gripping onto your thigh, holding it up towards your chest. “You feel too good.”

“I want you to cum in me,” you said quietly, trying to keep it down to not wake Iris. “Please.”

“Fuck,” he said, his hips speeding up even faster. “Fuck yeah. Gonna cum in you so fucking deep.”

“Please,” you begged again, your eyes closing as the pleasure overtook you again. “Oh, fuck, I’m so close again.”

“Come on baby, cum for me again,” he encouraged you, reaching down to rub circles on your clit. You gasped, pussy clenching around his cock as you came again. He slapped his hand over your mouth at the last second, keeping you quiet.

“Shh, baby, not too loud tonight,” he whispered into your ear. He buried his face in your neck again as his moans got breathier, more uncontrolled. He thrusted into your tight heat a few more times before he stilled, cumming inside of you as he gripped onto your thigh and buried his sounds in your body.

He pulled out, rolling onto the bed next to you. You cuddled up into his side and he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you even closer. “I love you,” he said again.

“I love you too,” you told him. “Stay with me?”

“Of course,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

—

You were more excited than anyone on Christmas morning. You woke Rafe up, shaking him from his sleep.

“Rafe, wake up! It’s Christmas!”

He woke with a groan. “What time is it?”

You checked your phone. “It’s 8am.”

“What the fuck.”

You laughed. “Rafe, it’s Christmas. Santa came.”

He uncovered his eyes, giving you a look. “You know we’re Santa, right?”

You rolled your eyes, throwing the blankets off of you and standing up. “Come on, have some fun.”

You both dressed back in your Christmas PJs (after not bothering to put anything back on last night). In the kitchen, you and Rafe ate some of the cookies to make it look like Santa had been by. You set the Santa presents under the tree, then went to get Iris.

“Good morning, baby girl,” you said as Iris sat up in her crib, rubbing her eyes. She smiled when she saw both you and Rafe.

Rafe lifted her from her crib and you walked into the living room together. JJ was still asleep, but you’d do his presents later. Iris gasped as you walked in, seeing all the presents under the tree. There were about a million, mostly thanks to Rafe. “Present!”

“That’s right,” Rafe said, sitting her down. “They’re all for you.”

Her eyes lit up and she scrambled over to the tree. You and Rafe joined her on the floor as she opened gift after gift. Dolls, coloring books, art supplies, clothes, stuffed animals, toys, anything she could have dreamed of. She was equally excited about everything, squealing as she opened each present.

After presents were opened, Rafe helped her open the toys and set them up while you prepared breakfast. JJ got up by the time it was ready, and all four of you sat down to eat together.

JJ took Iris back into the living room to play while Rafe helped you clean up. After the dishes were done, you leaned against the counter, breathing a deep sigh. “Feels like all this craziness and then it’s over so fast.”

Rafe chuckled. “Yeah, I get what you mean.”

“At least we’ve gotten through the presents.”

“Actually,” Rafe said. “I have one for you.”

You looked at him, eyebrows raised. “You got me something?”

“Of course. Wait here.” He went back into the living room, then came back with a small wrapped box. You tentatively took it from his hand, looking at him suspiciously.

“It’s not an engagement ring,” he said, laughing.

You breathed out a sigh - you weren’t ready for that yet. You weren’t even together. You unwrapped the gift to find a blue Tiffany & Co box. You looked at him with wide eyes, and he smiled, nodding for you to open it.

You opened the box to find a Tiffany solitaire diamond necklace. You gasped - it was beautiful, the diamond brilliant and clear, and it was too much.

“Rafe, you shouldn’t-“

“Stop,” he said. “I wanted to. And you deserve it. You’re an amazing mom, an amazing co-parent…” he pushed your hair over one of your shoulders. “A beautiful woman.”

He took the necklace from the box and stepped behind you. He clasped it around your neck, placing a kiss on your neck when he was done. Your hand went to touch the beautiful diamond resting on your chest now. You were starting to tear up again as he moved around to face you.

“Thank you,” you said, tears welling in your eyes. “This is amazing. I’ll cherish it forever.”

“Good.” Rafe smiled. He fixed your hair, ran his thumb over your cheek to wipe a stray tear away. “There’s just one thing I wanted to ask you.”

“What is it?”

“I…” He took a deep breath. “Look. I love you. I know I’ve said it a lot lately, but I hope you know I really mean it, with my whole heart. I love you. And I want you to be my girlfriend again. I want us to be official.”

“Rafe…”

“I know, our relationship before was shitty, I know.” Rafe grasped both your hands in his larger ones, looking you in your eyes. “But I’m different now. I swear to you. I want the best for you and Iris and all of us. I want to be with you again. We can take it slow, I don’t care. I just can’t stand you not being mine anymore.”

The tears were fully flowing now. He wiped them away, which only made them come faster. “Yes. I’ll be your girlfriend again.”

Rafe smiled, his whole face lighting up at your words. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you laughed through your tears. “Really.”

He pulled you in for a kiss, his lips pressing to yours with so much love you could feel it through your whole body.

You rejoined JJ and Iris in the living room. JJ eyed your hands joined together, but didn’t question it. You cuddled up on the couch with Rafe while your twin brother and your daughter played on the floor. Your little family was together and happy again.

It was something like a Christmas miracle.

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multipleoccupancy · 2 days ago

Text

Sloane nodded thoughtfully and absorbed the single parent idea with just a small element of sadness, he knew she had lost her mother from their discussions on the constellations. He hoped it wouldn't be too painful for her to think about in the mission but he trusted her to say if it was the case. "We'll do that then, I am sure I can tug on the right strings to get them to let her in." He put on his very best sad expression, which was very convincing before he let it fade back into a warm smile for her.

"Yes I am hoping tonight will be a case of two birds and one stone." He looked to Killian and Violet, "maybe four stones, but that just means we can hit harder." He partly teased but he had promised they would do what they could to try and reverse what had been done to the student and it would start with catching and 'questioning' whoever it was behind the experiments. Fully understanding what it was Samantha was suggesting in her 'asking' idea.

He saw how he had made her speechless and he put a hand around her shoulder to pull her back into a small hug, caring and thoughtful hoping he had not upset her even as she thanked him. "They can still pick and chose who to send where," Sloane said of Delta Green and maternity leave, "perhaps you can be the person to start implementing the idea of maternity leave." He suggested with a flash of a smile. "But you should not put your life on hold for fear of things that might not even happen. You give so much to the missions and to the world that you deserve your chance to take a step back and live the life which you're protecting. You can put measures into place for your family. I have and when that time comes, just give me a clue and we'll talk through what you can do."

Theo was a little blown away at the idea of Fire Vampires looking and acting like bolts of lighting. He was struggling to work out if they were real or if Violet was perhaps being told something of a weird urban legend about them. But she had said she had captured them. It was very hard to believe, everything she said and had been through but for the rollercoaster of emotions already that night, he was happier to accept rather than question it as he went off to find the soda cans.

He picked up enough of them that they were spilling from his arms as he made his way back from the trash can. Not even batting an eye at having rummaged through it, too excited in the moment to at least feign disgust, but nice collage campus bins in the campus theatre were a safe bet compared to what he sometimes ended up picking through in New York. "Here we go," he said as he moved to the far side of the stage from her to start setting the cans out at different heights, some on the floor, some on a bench and desk.

Sloane gave Violet a smile and a very clear thumbs up for her showing him the crossbow as he nearly spoke out of the side of his mouth to Samantha. "We should probably limit the ammunition on that one." He suggested as he watched a fifteen year old waving around what had been a deadly weapon for centuries now. "I hope her aim is as good as she said it was." But Sloane made no attempt to stop either Violet or Killian, perhaps because he wanted to see if it would work and if he could and should let Violet use it in their plan.

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy

Yes, it would be a lot more fun. "You're right," she admitted anyway, "let's try to play the teacher card first. You could tell them that you have her for the weekend but have to work late tonight. The single dad angle should mellow out whoever's in charge of the dorms." She spoke from experience.

"I bet we can finish the mission tonight," she echoed, perhaps more optimistic, or too optimistic. But like Sloane had said so himself, once they had the monster trapped, they could easily lure the man behind this awful experiment! "Whoever did this to this poor student might even know how to undo it. It'll be worth it to ask him once we have him." And by 'ask', Samantha did mean 'use force if necessary'. Which Violet would not be allowed to witness.

Sloane's words left her speechless for a moment. She blushed, teary-eyed. "Thank you," she finally managed after a few seconds, "I would like that, you know. Be a mother. But as long as I'm on the field... Delta Green doesn't really offer maternity leave." She looked at Violet and thought about how she adored her father. Then she thought about her own father. She loved him too. But she had still raised herself, in the end. "What if something happens to me? What if my kid loses me?" Her eyelashes fluttered. "I'm sorry." She knew Sloane had kids of her own.

Oh, right. This Theo didn't know about Fire Vampires. And she hoped he would never have to encounter one. "Fire Vampires look like huge bolts of lightning," she explained, "once they touch something, it bursts into flames. But as it turned out, they don't just look like lightning, they work like it too. So, they were immediately trapped inside my lightning rods." She grinned. "They seemed quite unhappy about it.

Violet trusted that he knew where to find empty cans -after all, he had been posing as a student at this university. She waited as he trotted to one of the bins, excited to try her crossbow. When she seemed to notice Sloane was looking at her, she waved in his direction and proudly pointed at the crossbow.

Samantha's smile was a little bit tense as she waved back. "If her weapon-making skills are on par with her trap-making skills... I think it will." Which was good, right? And also very worrying.

#hvbris #killian #violet #asoue au

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sweetdispatch · 2 days ago

Text

The card - Q. Hughes

6 days of kinkmas

pairing: Quinn Hughes x girlfriend!reader

summary: Quinn and his girlfriend got into argument which led him to teach her manners

warning: NSFW, graphic sex (18+), safeword, dom!quinn, oral (f and m receiving), dacryphilia, slapping, orgasm denial

words: 1.8k

note: final day of kinkmas is here! but i have a surprise for 24th👀

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Quinn, as a captain, was organising a Christmas party for his team. He needed your help but you were giving him a cold shoulder. A day earlier you two got into an argument and you didn’t want to forget this without apologies from him. You felt offended by his words and how low he thinks about you. As much as you wanted to help him, you didn’t want to give him satisfaction.

“All I’m saying is that it would be nice if you would tell me about this party at least a week earlier. Not day before” You sighed, trying to explain to him why you were mad.

“You don’t do anything so what’s the issue that I told you this now?”

“What is this supposed to mean?” His comment made you furrow yours eyebrows.

“You’re sitting at home the whole day doing nothing. It shouldn’t make a difference that I told you now” He shrugged and you looked at him, shocked at the words he just said to you. You left the living room and went to the bedroom.

This was yesterday and the two of you haven’t spoken since then. You had nothing to tell him because Quinn is the wrong one. If he thinks that you’re doing nothing, that’s exactly what you decided to do. You saw that he was struggling with preparing meals and cleaning at the same time but you were too stubborn to help him.

“Could you help me with the cake? You're a much better baker than I am” He asked you politely when he saw you getting water from the fridge, but you hadn’t responded. You went back to the bathroom to do your makeup and acted like you hadn't heard anything.

Quinn was furious at you. He couldn’t understand why you’re acting this way. In his mind, he hadn’t said anything wrong and you were the one who’s making a big deal of your conversation. He decided to let it slip for now, but after the party, he knew he’ll teach you manners.

The party was going smoothly. You two acted like a loving couple around his teammates while you hadn’t sorted out the argument. You were chatting with other girlfriends when Quinn was standing with the boys near the kitchen island. One of the girls went to grab a drink and interrupted his conversation.

“You’re a dick Quinn” She said and the boys looked at her. “You’re a dick for telling Y/N that she’s not doing anything in the house”

“Excuse me?” Quinn was taken aback by her words.

“She told us about your argument. How could you say this to her when she’s making everything so you could have a better life” She answered him and left. She sat on the couch and Quinn felt humiliated.

The boys were chirping at him about this situation and he got even more mad at you. He started thinking about his plan to punish you for what just happened. You were completely unaware of the fact that one of the girls confronted Quinn and enjoyed the party. He could see you laughing from afar but he knew that you won’t be laughing when the two of you will be home alone.

The party ended around midnight. When you closed the door after the last guests left, you sighed. All you wanted was to take off your makeup and get changed into something more comfortable. You started going to the bathroom when you heard Quinn.

“Living room. Now” His voice didn’t leave a space for argument. You followed into the room and saw his furious face expression. “You think it’s funny to tell everyone about our conversation? You think this was nice when one of the girls came and called me a dick in front of others?”

You were shocked. Yes, you told other girls about your argument but you never thought that they would direct this to him. You didn’t know what to say so you just stood there, waiting for his next move.

“I’m using the card today” You froze hearing it. You completely forgot that a couple months ago you gave him a “card” that meant that he can use you however he wants and do whatever he wants. “You’re under my control and have nothing to say unless it’s a safeword, which is…?” He asked you to be sure you remember.

“Sunflower”

“Good, now I want you naked in the bedroom. Hands on your sides and no touching”

You were turned on by the idea because sex with Quinn was always insane and you were curious what he’s gonna do to you. You took off your dress and threw it on the ground. You sat on the bed, waiting for him to come into the room. You trusted Quinn with your life and you knew that he would never hurt you but something in his voice made you nervous. You’ve been so caught up with your thoughts that you haven’t heard when he entered the room. He was standing only in his underwear. His voice brought you back from your trance.

“Knees” You listened to him and positioned yourself in front of him. He was caressing your hair and tucked them behind your ear. “We could have a nice night but you had to run with your mouth. I think we need to put it into better use now. You already said too much”

In a quick move, Quinn took off his underwear and you saw his hard dick. By instinct, you grabbed his dick and started playing with his length. He wasn’t happy with this and pulled your hair roughly so you could face him.

“I said mouth. Don’t you dare to disobey me because it will end up even worse for you” You nodded and opened your mouth letting him put his dick inside.

Quinn’s moves were rough. He was pushing his cock into your mouth without any mercy. You were gagging around him but this didn’t stop him. It turned him even more. You could feel the tip of his dick hitting your throat. Tears were spilling from your eyes and he laughed at the sight. Before he could cum in your mouth, he took out his dick.

“Lay in the bed. Legs wide open” You do what he told you to. He kneeled in front of your pussy and started eating you out. “So wet and I’ve barely done anything” He chuckled and returned to licking your clit.

Quinn pulled his fingers into your pussy and you moaned loudly. You felt incredible with his tongue on your clit. He could feel that you’re close to your orgasm but he stopped. You looked at him but he didn’t say anything. Only grabbed your hips and threw your body around. You were lying on your stomach when you heard.

“Ass up, face down” You positioned yourself and waited when you felt the first slap on your ass. You screamed by surprise not expecting this. “Next time you’ll want to act like a brat, remember how it feels”

Quinn spanked you four more times. The pain became a pleasure for you and when the last spank laid, you moaned. He looked at your red ass for a couple seconds. He did this on purpose so you don’t know what he’s gonna do next. The next thing you felt was his dick deep buried inside of you.

You were a mess under him. It felt so good when Quinn was fucking you roughly. You grabbed the sheet trying to find balance but with each thrust you were falling apart. It didn’t take him long enough to bring you close to your release. When he felt your muscles tightening around him, he pulled out. It was the second time when he didn’t let you cum.

“You’re not gonna cum until I say so” He stated and laid another spank on you.

“Please Quinn, I need it” You begged him.

“Please Quinn, I need it” He mocked you. “You, my sweet girl don’t have anything to say”

He thrusted into you again, this time you moaned loudly. He was keeping a hard pace and you went with your hand to touch yourself. Before you could do it, Quinn grabbed your wrist and placed your hand on your back. He did the same with your other hand. Now, you were totally at his mercy. Quinn was keeping your hands behind your back, still fucking into you. You were moaning and begging him to let you cum but he didn’t let you. Again, he pulled out of you and you cried.

“I am gonna decide when you gonna cum, not you” He said not bothered by your tears.

Quinn threw you again and you were again on your back. He towered over you and thrusted into you again. You moaned but now, he shut you up with a kiss. It was the first time you tasted his lips today. His hand went to circulate your pussy and you started feeling overwhelmed. Other hand, I went to play with your boobs. This was all too much for you. All the touches, teasing and three denial orgasms. You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Sunflower” You said repeatedly, each time quieter from another.

Quinn took his dick out of you and panicked. He knew that he fucked up because you never used it before. He pulled you into a hug and started caressing your back.

“Shh, you did so well. You’re safe” He was whispering into your ear and you started crying into his shoulder. It was breaking his heart knowing that he’s the reason you’re crying. “I’m so sorry baby, tell me what I can do to make you feel better”

“Just hold me please” Your voice was breaking at each word. Quinn hugged you tighter and let you calm down. After a couple of minutes, you spoke again. “Can we take a bath and forget about it?”

“Yes and no” You looked at him. His thumb wiped your tears. “We can take a bath but we have to talk about what happened. I need to know what exactly happened to push you to say this word. And don’t you even think that’s embarrassing. That’s why we have the word. To use it when it’s too much” He placed a kiss on your forehead.

Quinn raised you and went into a bathroom to prepare your bath so you could relax. He stayed by your side all the time, reassuming you that everything’s fine and you’re safe. You appreciated it that he didn’t leave you alone to deal with this but wanted to help you. When you were ready to leave, again he raised you and gently dressed you up in his shirt and laid you on bed.

“We don’t have to talk about this now but tomorrow okay?” You nodded and Quinn pecked your lips. “Goodnight babe, I love you and I’m sorry for today… and yesterday”

“Stop, we’ll talk about everything tomorrow, now let’s just sleep… I love you” You curled into his chest.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes oneshot #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fanfiction #nhl #nhl imgaine #nhl fanfiction #vancouver canucks #v' work

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