#they choose someone. beyond choosing a partner what kind of life are they choosing. what exactly are they committing to.

[ananas-pineapple-thing]

climbs back onto the stage to continue a two day old post. also people hating rachel bc she’s rich suck bro she’s 15 what do u want her to do 😭 rr likes writing rich people with helicopters it’s not her fault

[seventies-arcana]

PAC: what type of lover do you attract?

hello lovies, i hope this reading reaches you well. in this pac reading, you will find out what type of lover/romantic partner you naturally attract. this reading is for entertainment and enjoyment purposes. ask upon your guides/higher self to help guide you to whichever pile/photo you should choose, then read the message. images are not mine. pick a picture to begin ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

pile one (the nails): the type of person you attract is kind-hearted and good-intentioned. they bring out the best in you, which makes you very happy whenever you two spend time together. they also have a tendency to spend their money on you, whether it be for buying you lunch, drinks, gifts, or covering your tab. they enjoy spending their money on you, no matter the price. they might, however, play a little game of hard to get. once they've gained an interest in you, starting to leave hints of their attraction, they want to make sure you'd put an effort into the relationship. they might even want you to make the first real move, beyond the lingering gazes and fleeting touches. but it's worth the effort. it might take some time, but once you two are officially together, the relationship is very fun. enjoyable, like dating your best friend or partner in crime. you'll tease each other in light-hearted fun, and you'll wonder what took you two so long to get here.

pile two (the lily pads): the type of person you attract is charming and exciting to be around. they make you feel flustered inside, butterflies in your stomach, because they're so alluring. you're like a moth drawn to a flame. maybe their a little impulsive, but it's never too much, and it adds to their appeal. you probably spend a lot of time with this person in social atmospheres, like bars, clubs, or social gatherings. if you're a more introverted person, they try to convince you to spend time with them at these kinds of events. but they enjoy nights in as well-- they use it as a time to simply talk. they are a great conversationalist, and a great person to confide in. beyond their outgoing persona, they could be a relatively sensitive person deep down, and don't handle jealousy well. conversations with them regarding what both of you seek in a partner might be a way they try to hint at their admiration for you. once you're together, they'll want to brag to everyone about how great you are, and probably post you on social media often.

pile three (the florals): the person you attract is someone whose intelligent and mysteriously compelling. they are someone you've met before, who reappears in your life after a few months or so. they have a cool front, it's hard to read them, and they keep things to themselves, however deep down they are so immensely passionate. they're the type to yearn and pine for weeks before they ever make a move. because of their stoic upfront, you might not even notice their admiration for you, and may not consider them in a romantic way-- at first. because once they finally make a move, maybe with a bold flirt or innuendo, you realize what you've been missing out on. and the relationship, once it begins, is cool as fuck. they'll take you out on dates that have you try new things, that ignite your senses. their kisses and their touch practically set you a flame, you can't get enough of them.

pile four (the bunny):

the person you attract is so adorable and considerate. they're someone who expresses love through physical touch, in romantic and platonic relationships. they care so deeply for the people they love. they dote on you, making sure you've ate, that you got home safe, and that you're having a good day. they are a great listener, and this might be something about them that you find attractive. they love getting to learn things about you, interested in what you like, your hobbies, your goals, etc. they may struggle with admitting their feelings towards you, possibly having a fear of rejection or having bad experiences with love in the past. you'll likely have to make the first move, but once the relationship is brought to the next level, their doting increases ten fold. they'll offer to give you massages, make you dinner, and spend time doing things they know you enjoy.

please like, follow, and reblog for more!

[drdemonprince]

I am always clutching to my idealized reality firmly with both fists. Whenever my hair looks good in a photograph, I immediately get to stressing about the fact that my hair has already grown some imperceptible amount since when the image was captured. Then I cut it, hoping to restore it to its former perfection — and my head gets completely mangled by my clippers and shears. I deny myself my favorite foods and drinks sometimes, knowing that the meal will too quickly be over. The moment someone begins to love me is when I start picturing them dead.  Many late-realized Autistics develop relational patterns that therapists label codependent, controlling, or Borderline. I wonder how much of our supposedly dysfunctional attachment can be attributed to our desire for constancy, and our attempts to impose stability on a reality that forever shifts. For Autistics, most social interactions are mystifying and seem to play out on their own, largely beyond our control. Possible rejection hides in every corner, much of it unforeseeable to us.  Doesn’t it make sense we’d try to control what we can?  When a partner remarks that he’d like to get a bigger mattress, I want to chop off the sides of the bed to force our bodies closer. I want to hiss at every new person that enters the friend group to scare them off. Though all my queer loved ones are enlightened polyamorists, whenever someone I love starts texting someone new I fantasize about slipping away with their phone in the night, unlocking it, finding the new contact, and blocking the threat into oblivion.  I don’t do any of this, of course. But in my selfish, rotted heart, I want to be like Hannibal Lecter, drugging his patients and hypnotically conditioning Clarice to be in love with him. When I learned that Jeffrey Dahmer drilled holes into his lovers’ heads and filled the cavities with hot water and bleach to keep them from abandoning him, I could kind of understand it. And I hated myself for it.  I don’t actually have the stomach to be violent. My war with reality happens only inside. Besides, I know that if I were actually to try and control another person’s life, it would just send them running away. I learned that the dozens of times that I completed boyfriends’ homework for them, paid their rent, wrote cover letters for friends’ job applications, and inserted myself into fights that weren’t mine. I have tried to pull at others’ strings to keep them all happy and around me, but it only ever sent them running away, sad tangles of threads left round my fingers.  People like me must be why Autistics have a reputation for being cold-hearted, unfeeling, and unable to recognize the interiority of anyone else. I’m an anarchist in principle and a lover of my own freedom, so I would never wish to impose my will onto another person. I am terrified of the urges for control and permanence that lurk inside me. I’m afraid of where they might take me, and so I never give voice to them — In fact, I rarely give voice to any of my desires at all.  I let people do what they will without ever voicing my opinion. That’s the only way to truly avoid becoming the Dahmer in my mind. My method of control is to ask nothing, and give everything, hoping that one day another person will notice and choose to be devoted to me.  But even then, they’d change on me. It’s in the nature of all living things. 

I wrote about the Autistic fear of change, where it comes from, how it affects our relationships, and the many ways that we attempt to cope with change, both for good and for ill. It is free to read or have narrated to you on my Substack.

[familyagrestefanblog]

Jep, this is basically it.

A+ additional tags 👏👏

ML Hot Take

Chat noir is hiding just as much from Ladybug as she is from him, and they are both doing it just so the other is kept safe and unburdened because they both have a flawed understanding of the other, which leaves them both at fault for the ladynoir fall out.

[cinnbar-bun]

Hi. I hope you’re doing well at the moment. If not, feel free to push off writing this request or to ignore it altogether.

I’m curious to see what headcanons you have about Bruno and how he’d feel about receiving flower arrangements from a S/O.

Your wish is my command, nonnie!!!

Bruno Bucciarati Receiving a Flower Arrangement From his S/O

Rating: SFW

Word Count: ~1k

Notes: Just fluff, plus a minor mention of Bruno's backstory in a bullet point (nothing major). GN reader as always, and just lots of loving for our fave capo <3 As well as cameos from the rest of the gang.

One thing that’s for certain is that your capo adores the flowers. He was rather shocked to see the florist hand deliver him such a large bouquet. 

At first, he briefly thought it was from you- but, well, that’d be kind of selfish to assume, wouldn’t it? So he thinks it’s maybe a thank-you gift from one of the many citizens in Napoli he’s helped. 

However, once he reads the card with the message you put on it, the adoration on his face is clear. He’s touched beyond belief. 

He immediately puts the flowers in a vase as a centerpiece for the table of their room. He’s kind of hoping that the others ask about it so he can proudly gloat that his lovely, wonderful partner got them for him. 

Mista and Narancia will whine and then wonder if they can ever get flowers from their s/o one day, and Bruno teases them by saying that if they get their act together, they just might. 

Fugo acts like he doesn’t give a shit but he’s pretty happy that Bruno is happy and has you as his partner. The young boy is grateful that there’s someone who takes care of Bruno after all Bruno does for everyone else. 

Abbacchio complains about the smell of the flowers, citing them as being too strong or something while he’s drinking his wine or listening to his music. Despite that, he’ll be damned before he touches or does anything to them. Bruno knows Abbacchio would never throw them out despite his complaints, so he often jokes back that Abbacchio is just jealous he is not getting flowers. 

Trish is wide-eyed at the gift you got Bruno, thinking it’s romantic, and remarks that the bouquet has to be super expensive. She joins in with Mista and Narancia about wanting a nice bouquet of flowers from her future lover. 

Giorno thinks it’s a nice gift and feels it says a lot about you that you would gift Bruno them. Especially if you took the time to arrange the bouquet or choose specific flowers/colors, it makes Giorno appreciate and think higher of you. 

Bruno would love any kind of bouquet you’d get him. He adores them and always, always, always will appreciate them and do his best to keep them alive and fresh for as long as possible (including, but not limited to, enlisting Giorno’s help to freshen them up)

That said, he does have different (but positive) reactions to the flowers depending on what type you may have chosen for him! 

If you got him roses (any color): he’d be extra romantic and sappy to you. Roses are the flowers of love, aren’t they? And this was most certainly your way of trying to show him your desire for him, wasn’t it? So he’ll pay it back by using more Italian pet names with you or more romantic gestures as if he were a lovesick puppy. 

If you got him a bright, colorful bouquet: he’d be quick to think it stands out from the rest of the room, but frankly, it was a necessary one. He would do his best to make the flowers stand out even more by using a colorful vase/glass and putting it directly in front of everyone. Everyone has to see this. He smiles brightly when he sees them, too, and it makes him think about how much light you’ve given in his life. He becomes eager to pull you close. 

If you got him a white bouquet (any flowers): He’d be more solemn and deliberate in his movements and decisions. Quieter displays of his affection will ensue, with him taking your hand to his and pressing kisses on it, buying your favorite food/drink, and whispering the sweetest words of poetry known to man in your ear. Those flowers were what he saw often during funeral processions, but it’s also seen in weddings, too. It’s a sort of reminder to himself that his time with you is limited and that every moment with you is a precious thing to be savored. 

If you got him a pastel bouquet: He reacts in a way that’s a mixture of the bright flowers and the white flowers. He reacts more on the quieter end, but is less prone to the feelings of nostalgia he may have had with the white flowers. He finds these ones sweet and gentle, and it, in turn, makes him act pretty gentle with you. Tons of romantic words in your ear and kisses peppered all over your face are what awaits you.

If you got him a bouquet with darker flowers: At first, he’s taken aback by the colors. Not in a bad way, they’re flowers and they’re from you on top of that. He’s just a bit surprised that flowers could be arranged in such a way, but it’s so unique like you? Oh my gosh? It’s unconventional but makes him smile, and he is proud to have them as a centerpiece. He’s quick to thank you and he will get more specific in his praises and compliments for you. More affectionate and grateful here, but more teasing as well. 

Seriously, buy him flowers, it makes his day- nay, his week(s)- and gives him more motivation. He’s not used to being treated often, but with you, every day is a treat, and every gift you give him makes him practically melt. 

Plus, how could you resist the wide-eyed smile he does when he realizes that you were the one who sent the flowers?

[crying-fantasies]

Power play

Masterlist

Featuring IDW1! Thundercracker, smut/fluff/tiny bit of angst, CW: power play, licking, masturbation (on the mech), talk of the war, handjob, implied blowjob.

“Do you want me here?”

No words, just the surge of electricity creeping over your arm, just enough to feel it tugging at your muscles, never to the point of it being harmful.

The cybertronian way to say “keep going” when words aren't enough or their processor is beyond forming decent thoughts.

“It is eye-catching, you know?”, a hard twist above his anterior node, if not for the stasis locks above him you could have been gone flying by that kick of his, “I always know where to touch, where to pinch”, your words are followed by a quick squeeze of a node inside his valve, he doesn't even moan, just outright glitches back to vosian, the bio lights over his spike flare as it trembles on your other hand, letting go of his internal node to get face to face to the base of his spike, looking how pretty the red lights cycle, “want me to make it good for you? Nice and sloppy before I put it inside?”

This time, you do obtain a “yes, please! I need it” as he knows how it turns you on, to have his approval for it, knowing how good your fingers feel in the discharge port of his spike, and knowing full well that you will stop till he says it with direct words, “I want you to-”

“Then get sizeable”, your face is pressed to one side of his spike, and he can feel the heat of your body going off in waves, sending shivers down his back strut and messing with his processor, “or do you want me to give my man a full body wash?”

You think he said yes, to what you aren't sure, but there's still a long way to go if you want to understand his vosian spilling during the throes of passion.

Back in the day, you could have laughed, more inclined to shrug it off and be uncomfortable with it than real joy-laced laughter. Some previous partners came up with the idea, or some tried to do it without even noticing at first. Somehow, it felt degrading.

Let go of it all. Maybe what had you more strangled from the practice was the fact that you didn't depend on them enough at the time. There was too much pressure upon you. What do you want to be? What do you think of this? Things moved too fast to catch on with them and their enthusiasm, soon leading to cold shoulders or rejection.

In the end, no one put up with you.

Then, this fragger chooses to betray his race for pitiful, strange, tiny organics that know nothing about what to do with the big scary aliens. Maybe you're being too harsh on him, no, you indeed were, as it was normal, you saw the attack, and you felt the pull of fear when you finally saw him.

You also noticed how his big red optics sparkled when someone talked to him nicely.

Not even nice in the sense of “Oh my let me get you all the energon you need for the rest of my life” but the “good morning” kind of nice, it gave you a glimpse of how fucked up the Decepticons were in their morale, his optics always had that glint of fascination when you said his designation followed by a simple greeting, people on base noticed too, Mainframe was the first to go the extra mile and give him a tablet big enough for him to use, Doc Sir made an energon dispenser and Marissa gave him a puppy.

Thundercracker beamed with so much happiness, answering the unasked question, if cybertronians could cry, they do, they cry, he had some kind of liquid on the verge of his optics and a little smile on his faceplate, someone said how gross it was and you were sure Marissa was the one to demote that person.

Turns out, the murder robot alien from deep space with sharp digits that could poke you open was a softie disguised, but that also explained why he sacrificed himself for a whole city, when Thundercracker talked to you of Vos, his hometown, in between broken words and glossy optics as he expressed vulnerability over the deep scar the image of the flying citadel left on him, falling in flames, collapsing anything and everything it once was, killing dozens in the fall and the collision, it made you reconsider what you believed of the Autobots, well, no, you weren't going to be like that dude, just settled on the fact, that simple fact, that yeah, they've being at war longer than Earth's age, but that didn't mean they liked it, it also didn't mean that all autobots were good, not all Decepticons are bad.

There was always the psychopath or the power-hungry idiot leading the rest, human history was full of them too.

It took you by surprise, he was so easy to chat with once he got the all-clear from you, do you want to know about what he is writing on his tablet? It wasn't the best you've heard of but it was indeed interesting to hear him rant about his own “Nurse Whitney” fanfiction, do you want to watch him transform? It's not a problem for him, maybe he looked a bit nervous about it but still pleased your curiosity, even doing it slowly, let you understand, or attempt, where everything went, do you want to know about Vos’ old songs? He would sing them to you even when he sounded like a bird wannabe, the similarities gave you the creeps for days as he looked expectantly at you.

Point of no return? During humanity take over-on Cybertron, the attempt, TC could have left you die by the fall when the explosion took over, but he did not, he caught you, asking desperately if you were okay as your body collided with the hard metal of his servo, “I’m fine” you assured in between the pit dragging you under, “thanks”.

You already saw him as a being, a sentimental one, full of intricate phases of himself, the sexual part of him came to light when you were watching TV together, nothing better to air at midnight than porn apparently, as if no kid would catch on it.

There was a hissing sound coming from him like a hot kettle, TC had a servo over his intake, optics big with surprise or repulsion you didn't figure out before changing the channels, it was embarrassing, it wasn't your fault, but you still felt the pain of embarrassment on your face, “just so you know, people do watch that, but not everyone does”

If anything, he tried to look composed, “Yeah, frag- I mean, your sexual intercourse, it's normal, everyone does it”.

That dragged a question that was answered for another, Thundercracker didn't want to go down in detail but it was answer enough when his optics couldn't look at you for longer times.

Things got heated pretty soon, it didn't happen that very same night, not even that exact year, the universe has a way to fuck people up, just put together two consenting individuals for enough time, remove the label and limits of simple friendship and you're good to go.

You never wanted any of that to happen, not like that at least, you never wanted to lead him so wrong, that you couldn't even talk to him now without asking yourself what was going on there, he was too worried hissing like a massive predator every time someone dared to try and talk shit of his script, what else was to be done? You knew next to nothing about cybertronians in that department of knowledge, no matter how much TC tried to translate Vosian poems to you, the translation wasn't accurate in the slightest.

Things got hard when an actor called his part bullshit and it was like seeing two giant metal roosters about to pluck the eyes out of the other.

So far, you have been the only one he hasn't tried to blow to pieces, only shouting angrily, soon to be overwhelmed with sadness. No one is looking, and you take your chance, he is awake, as expected, and red optics glance back at you from the darkness, angry, exhausted, he is on his pedes as he looks over you, menacingly, Buster has curled on her bed above his berth. “Why have you come back?”, you know this, like when you first meet him, putting up a hard exterior, something seemingly unbreakable, threatening to break you instead if you nudge at him wrong.

He is mad, of course, he is, for him, this has been nothing but stressful.

But you're also mad, because he never told you directly, you could've helped him, somehow and you let him know, shouting should be the last of your resources, but it breaks if only a tiny bit his facade, he watches over Buster, ensuring she is still sleeping as you call him names from “TC” to “Thundercracker of Vos”, before scoping you up to another room, trusting Buster to defend his private work.

“Are you crazy?!”, he is whispering, it's obvious he also wants to scream at your face, his wings are up, the universal vosian way telling you to “frag off”.

Frag, as far as you could get, was equal to fuck.

“Why don't you frag me instead?”

Too hard? Too hard, a lot harder than you intended, as a year of mutual pining finally gave in and had him under you, biting on his derma desperately, trying to shut away any sound he could do, not trusting himself to stay silent even with his vocalizer off, watching the ceiling, overcome with anxiousness and looking at his array.

Bad idea, very much a bad idea, the sensation took him over, you were expecting him to do so, waiting for his optics to center on you before dragging your whole hand over the nod on the head of his spike, it was mute, but his helm was fast to return to its previous position, both servos over his optics, “what?” you asked, gripping at it, his back arched with a silent scream, “really? No sound? How I'm supposed to know if you like it?”

TC was limp on the floor, wings trembling, plating chattering, his servos still over his faceplate, you didn't like it, “Hey”, took a moment but he peaked at you from between his digits, he looked so tense, taking two steps away from his spike you decided to let him go, “sorry, I don't know what came over me, this is…” you couldn't find the words, feeling embarrassed, you went too far, fear was soon creeping on your head, how were you to see him in the eyes from now on? “This is my fault, I'm so sorry-”

“Don't-”

It was broken, it was hard to hear, it was low, so low you believed it was your imagination, but Thundercracker was looking at you again, intake open, out of breath even when he didn't need it, “please”, his optics were shining in between pauses, like a heartbeat, a pulse, “please never stop”.

There was no necessity to feign any longer.

And it was such a relief on his part, finally telling you what he wanted for a long time, finally admitting to it.

“Keep going” he pleaded, his spike hard to the touch, your fingers traced around the whole length of it and he almost overloaded with that alone, “I don't want to think-”

“I get it”, something awoke that day, finally understanding the fire when he looked so ready to be pleased, “I'll take care of it, make you forget all about that”

.

IDW1 Thundercracker makes things to me, there's nothing better than a man (alien?) with a puppy, you know he'll treat you right.

@tf-kinktober2024

[ivymarquis]

Blind Date

Me: “why the fuck is this fic taking so long to finish?”

The fic: *is the longest singular piece I’ve ever written for one chapter*

Pairing| John Price x F!Single Mom!Reader Rating| M Word Count| 8.4k Kinks/Content/Warnings| Drinking (everyone is clear headed), run ins with a shitty ex, mentions of abuse from prior relationship, these two are incredibly down bad for each other, oral (m! and f!receiving), protected piv, squirting

There is a certain catharsis in lamenting your dating horror stories with men to a married lesbian who’s over a decade older than you. Kate is always willing to lend an ear, and you’re positive that she gets a kick out of your misadventures in the way so many married people did while listening to their single friends.

“I swear I’m this close to just giving up all together and embracing spinsterhood,” you grouse with a drink in your hand after the work day had concluded.

You like to think your standards aren’t unreasonable. Someone kind, with their head on straight. It felt like finding a man who respects you as a person is becoming too big an ask and you very simply would rather be alone than deal with the endless hoard of men who seem hell bent on destroying any confidence you have in yourself.

“What about the guy you went out with yesterday?” Kate inquires with her head tilted. Must be fun, listening to your ramblings with a devoted partner at home.

“Oh did I not tell you? He was engaged!”

Kate pulls a face like her drink soured on her, matching how you’d felt at the time.

“Even better- guess how I found out he’s engaged.”

“She showed up at the restaurant?” Kate hits the nail on the head on the first try.

“Bingo,” you raise your glass in a gesture of affirmation before finishing it off. “Somehow I ended up being the one getting yelled at in that situation. Un-friggin-believable.”

You don’t abuse your work privileges to creep on people you meet in your personal life, but public record could have spared you if he’d been married. Harder to find out about an engagement from a total stranger who was determined to not let you find out about it and didn’t have social media.

“There’s always the other side,” Kate teases.

“Women scare me too much, I get all nervous.” You could appreciate an attractive woman as much as the next gal but good God you just could not help yourself when it came to men. The subtle way their breathing would change before they made their move, that low timber growling in your ear. The sheer weight of one on top of you as he manhandled you into the bedding-

Dear Lord, you need to get laid. Maybe you’re fixating on it too much because you’ve had an over 2 year dry spell. That tends to happen after a baby though. Especially with a pain in the ass ex who thinks he can pick and choose when to be around (and becomes absolutely incensed each time you remind him he could be consistent or he could stay home).

Kate is thoughtful for a moment, clearly kicking around an idea she hasn’t fully committed to in one direction or another. You can see the moment she decides to proceed with the thought. “Depending on what exactly you’re looking for, I might know someone.”

—

And here you are on a Saturday night, nerves clawing at your belly like a rabid dog.

Most (well, all) of the men you’ve dated you met online. There’s almost additional butterflies beyond the first-meet jitters knowing that the date is set up by a mutual friend.

There’s more at stake, even if the stakes are relatively low pressure. If the guys you met online did something incredibly out of pocket you never had to see them again, and held no qualms divulging the events to friends. Your romantic life has been full of misadventures but has given you a handful of stories, and as strangers you never have to consider any possible fallout in telling those stories.

Your son is with your mother for the night, allowing you the opportunity to focus solely on yourself this evening. No concern about keeping an eye on him while getting ready, worrying about what possible trouble he’ll get into when your back is turned.

It is hard at times- striking that balance between wanting to be a good mom and also wanting to be acknowledged as a desirable woman who has needs. A lot of men are shitty about it. You’d grilled Kate for every detail of his reaction when being informed of your young son. You don’t need another ambush regarding your disinterest in making it work with your son’s father.

She’d soothed your nerves- he hadn’t batted an eye, was about as worried about your reaction to how often his job pulled him away as you were about him having a poor reaction to being a single mom. You both have responsibilities that have to be placed above a relationship, now go play nice and have fun.

You tell yourself you can have one drink while waiting at the bar of the restaurant you’d agreed to meet at.

White wine ends up being your pick- not quite so easy to suck down as a tasty cocktail full of liquor, but gives you something to occupy yourself with.

You’ve only had the drink a handful of minutes before hearing someone clear their throat slightly behind you, and then your name.

Kate has shown you a photo of what he looks like so you’re not caught off guard when you turn around.

He’s handsome. You expect that but it’s different seeing him opposed to just the photo. Kind eyes, a warm smile on his face as he takes you in.

At least you both seem pleased with the big reveal.

“I’ve got a table waiting for us if you’re ready, love.”

He holds out a hand to let you balance yourself as you dismount from the bar seating, allowing you to steady yourself in your heels.

His hand is warm on your waist as he guides you and you’re already smitten by the time the pair of you sit down.

You’re fifteen minutes into dinner when you decide that so long as he a) is willing and b) doesn’t say or do anything completely deranged, you are going to ride Captain John Price like a mechanical bull at a shitty dive bar at the end of the night.

Perhaps the bar is in hell but either way you have been utterly deprived the past few years and he is checking plenty of boxes for you.

“So you work with Kate?” Starting off on the easy footing- the common ground that leads you both here.

“I do. Not directly- I work more on the tech side. I’m an independent contractor, I basically built the entire system she runs off of.”

“Beauty and brains,” his praise warms you, an impressed expression on his face. “Would explain how we’ve never crossed paths if you were hiding in a backroom surrounded by monitors,” he teases.

“You’re actually not that far off the mark,” not that you hide persay, but keeping that contract keeps a roof over your head and food in your child’s mouth. That keeps you busy. The fewer people who know how to work your program, the harder you are to get rid of.

You may or may not have hidden a few kill switches. Job security you call it. Though it’s not exactly first date material to talk about how you’ve got a government agency in a mutual understanding- keep extending your contract, and the program continues to work.

Either way, you don’t have much contact with the soldiers. Maybe you have passed each other in the halls but probably not- you’re certain a face like that wouldn’t have escaped your notice, introduction via a mutual friend or no. But you decide to utilize that mutual friend to shift the conversation. He’s hedged around talking about his work- on his end, sees that as the thing that might be a deal breaker for you. Probably wants to delay that until you've at least gotten your entrees.

So you go from business to hobbies. And it’s probably not entirely fair, but you’re about to see what his sense of humor is.

“Kate mentioned you’re a big soccer fan?” You make sure your expression is wide and doe eyed as you ask the question.

His eyebrow twitches- caught, no doubt, between wanting to leave a good first impression and biting back it’s football over here, love.

You crack far quicker than you initially plan, the wide grin on your face as you let him off the hook he’s good naturedly trying not to bite.

“Beauty, brains, and a comedian, lucky me.”

“I’m sorry, I had to. In fact, it was in her terms for this,” you make a vague gesture with your hand.

“Trust Kate to wheel and deal just to get my blood pressure up,” he muses as he takes a sip from his drink.

The conversation rolls easily enough- an ebb and flow as one of you poses a question, the other answering before allowing the first to say their contribution to the subject and moving on.

He’s charming, attentive, and a good storyteller. The way he carries himself screams military without being overbearing. He’s relaxed back into his chair and something about the scene in front of you makes you want to climb into his lap like a domesticated house cat.

Being the field captain to a specialized task force it’s no shock that he’s in incredible shape and you find yourself slightly distracted on more than one occasion by his hands and forearms.

The food is wonderful though the company is better- you end up moving back to the bar for fresh drinks and to free up the table for the server.

You spend a good length of time just talking with him at the bar.

John’s attention is on you but it’s clear he’s proverbially chewing on something the further on you go.

“That is the look of someone with a question they’re not entirely positive they want an answer to,” you’ve got a habit of being a touch direct at times. Amazing how it streamlines a conversation though.

“Observant one, aren’t you?” He pauses, takes another sip of his drink. “It’s probably none of my business, but ah- is your son’s father in the picture at all?”

It was your turn to take a drink. This was always such a fun topic of conversation. Frankly the number of men who took your ex’s side when the whole custody arrangement gets brought up alarms you.

But he has a right to his son.

Fuck that.

Your child is not property and you do not give a singular shit about your ex’s feelings- especially if it comes at the expense of your son’s safety. But it saves you a substantial amount of time not wasting energy on someone who could not understand the reason for your decisions.

“The short answer to the question is no. I had already left him by the time I found out I was pregnant, and given I left because he’s a raging alcoholic- with the emphasis on the rage-,” what a nice, polite way to say he is an abusive asshole. Your gaze shifts down towards the bartop, missing the way John’s expression softens as he reads between the lines of what you say. They’re not pleasant memories, but you’re not a wounded bird anymore- you’ve tended to your clipped wings and grown new feathers. “I didn’t want him involved.”

“He ended up finding out from a mutual acquaintance, and while he claims he wants to be around, he hasn’t done much other than blow my phone up at midnight trying to throw his weight around every time he gets a new girlfriend. So I get to be the cold blooded harpy that he gets to cry about- which is fine by me. On paper he says he wants to be involved, but he’s made absolutely no effort to arrange plans or anything while sober. I haven’t seen him in over 2 years. I can’t trust him to be a safe parent, and since he’s not on any official records I get final say unless he wants to go to court over it.”

Your whole little house of cards hinges on the fact that your ex wants everyone to bend over backwards for him while doing nothing for anyone else. All it would take would be one subpoena for a paternity test and your hands would be tied. He is an incredibly functional alcoholic, so there isn’t a criminal record or anything you can do to prove he would be unfit. There’s no proof of the abuse he inflicted on you.

Which means, if push comes to shove, you would be forced to relinquish sole custody and hand your child over for unsupervised visitation.

But that requires effort on his part. And that effort is the only thing keeping your little house of cards afloat.

“Sorry that’s probably way more information than you wanted-“ good job. Everything was going great until you laid out your drama.

“No apology necessary; I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.”

And there’s no lecture about how you should give your ex a chance, that the opportunity to raise his son could make him change for the better. No dissertation on how you owe it to your son to do whatever it took to make things work with his father (that had been a weird way to end a date, and the only reason you hadn’t gotten up sooner and left was because it was such a bizarre conversation you’d half convinced yourself the whole thing had to be a bad dream).

You’re not a wounded bird and on the one hand it’s a good thing to get everything laid out on the table, but on the other you don’t want to sit and mope about your personal troubles. You’re actually enjoying John Price’s company, and don’t want to think about your problems.

And yes you are enjoying the time for what it is but part of you can’t help but also keep an eye out for… any opportunities for a transition.

As hot under the collar as you are, John’s gaze makes warmth coil in your gut in a way that has nothing to do with the wine- he’s being a gentleman.

It’s sweet. He’s being polite and respectful and showing sexual discipline while making it clear he’s interested.

And for all your bemoaning of prior dates with other men who aren’t captains of specialized task forces about how they were too pushy and too presumptuous and a nice dinner paired with drinks doesn’t entitle them to you dropping your panties—

Yet here you sit, hours into a conversation when you’d decided 15 minutes in you want to jump his bones. And you have to be patient otherwise you’re a total hypocrite.

You’re not entirely subtle. The pair of you are perched on barstools again, much closer than the table allowed you to be with the two of you angled towards each other.

Your dress looks good on you. A jewel toned blue that compliments your skin beautifully, the hemline stopping above your knees and loose enough to bounce tantalizingly when you hit your stride walking.

It’s not exactly an olive branch, but it is an offering of sorts when you carefully take the leg closest to John and cross it over the other. The hemline of your skirt slips up your thigh, exposing more of your leg. It stops just shy of exposing the top of your stockings and the clip to your garter. It does show just a hint of the darker border to your stockings, the lace peeking ever so slightly before transitioning to the sheer material that covers the rest of your legs.

You’re incredibly pleased with yourself when his eyes flick down for a split second and linger before snapping back to your face. Got you. He tries to hide behind being caught with a sheepish clearing of his throat. It’s adorable, really.

Your cheeks are starting to get sore from all the smiling and laughing that’s occurred over the past few hours. But he’s pleasant company so it’s a discomfort you’re happy to deal with.

You look past him for a split second- nothing in particular catching your attention but just taking in the scenery of the restaurant behind you. Your eyes are back on him in a moment only for your brain to process what it saw after a delay.

There’s no fucking way-

Yes. Yes there is. Your ex is mingling in the background, and you don’t even realize the smile on your face has fallen to a flat line like all the previous giddiness is draining out of you and pooling on the floor below.

It would not take a captain of an antiterrorism task force to see your sharp shift in disposition, so John notices immediately.

“Everything alright, love?”

Maybe he won’t see you. Maybe, if there is a God and he is merciful, your ex won’t look in your direction, won’t see you, and you can continue your cheerful plan of trying to seduce your date.

And whether there is not a God or he is just not merciful- either option remains with you having the same shit result. He turns his head and makes direct eye contact. God damn it.

You look back to John. You’d hoped you could move past talking about your ex for the evening. “Remember how I said I haven’t seen my ex in over 2 years?”

There’s a twinge of relief on his face- the look of a man grateful to not be the cause of your displeasure.

“Let me guess- he’s right behind me?”

“Not quite “right behind”, but yes. Hopefully he’ll just-“ a short huff off agitation leaves you as you cut yourself off.

So much for hoping he’d simply mind his business and stay with his group. He’s making his way towards the pair of you at the bar, and you can tell he’s had a good number of drinks in his system just looking at him.

You’d become extremely proficient at gauging how drunk your ex is at a glance. A skill you developed while still with him and one that doesn’t seem to have faded.

This is, you know without question, going to end up being absolutely humiliating for you. You just know it.

“I am going to go ahead and apologize now for whatever is going to come out of his mouth,” you inform John.

His hand finds your knee, giving a light, reassuring squeeze. “It’ll be alright, love.”

“Well what do we have here?” is the warning shot letting you know he’s not going to show any form of civility.

“Hello, Michael,” you greet cooly, mind spinning a hundred miles an hour trying to figure out how to end this conversation as quickly as possible.

“You don’t have time to answer my texts but you’ve got time to go out. That’s good. Good to know you’ve got your priorities in order,” he starts.

“Answering your texts isn’t even remotely on my priority list, you know that.” You’re trying incredibly hard to keep yourself from being outright nasty but a whole lot of old wounds float up to the surface at the sight of your ex.

Maybe your new feathers aren’t as filled out as you’d initially thought. You feel raw and exposed and it’s difficult to think. You know what you should do, how you should handle it- and there’s still that one little part in your brain that is keeping tabs on John and his response to all of this.

“Your priority should be my son-“ he starts,

“-who is with his perfectly capable grandmother for the evening, thank you,” you finish for him, jaw set tightly. “Why are you here?”

The direct question is aggressive but you know the cycle with him too well to allow him to steer the conversation. He’ll run you in circle after circle until you’re so frazzled you can’t discern left from right.

“Can’t say hello and introduce myself to your new fella? Come on now, where’s your manners?”

Your eyes widen as Michael reaches a hand out- there is no way this asshole is about to grab you in public.

Quick as a snake, John runs interference and drapes his arm across the back of your chair, his fingers holding the shoulder furthest from him lightly.

The entire length of your back and shoulders are blocked by the SAS captain, forcing Michael’s hand back as there was no easy place for it to land that wouldn’t also be touching John.

Up until now, John has been quiet and assessing the situation. Not bowing up or trying to assert himself- letting you deal with your ex and navigate the situation for yourself.

The look on his face is downright unpleasant to put lightly. This is the man in charge of an elite task force, who barks orders at soldiers who drop everything at once because he told them to-

-and you don’t feel so exposed anymore. You find yourself sitting up a bit straighter only for John to gently stroke his knuckles against your shoulder in a soothing gesture. The gesture isn’t a miraculously grand one, but one that makes you realize you’re not alone in this situation even as disorienting as it is. And if you’re being honest with yourself, the upright posture and shifting of your thighs isn’t so much a stress response to your ex as you keying in on John’s response to the whole situation.

“John, Michael- Michael, John. There, now you’re introduced.” Go away now please.

Your ex is too drunk and too full of himself to see the writing on the wall, and continues to poke the bear. “Well, since she doesn’t seem to want to give a proper introduction-“ he sticks an arm out, and you can’t help but notice how the simple gesture causes him to need to correct his balance. Good lord it was barely dark out and he’s already-

Well. Not your problem. Not anymore, at any rate.

John is sitting to your left, his right arm the one that’s draped across the back of your chair. The pair of you flash a quick look to each other, John lifting his arm from your chair to take Michael’s hand and-

God.

Damn.

It.

The exchange is actually as hilarious as it is embarrassing (You can’t quite decide if it’s all the second hand cringe variety, or first hand because Look, John! Here’s the father of my child! I sure know how to pick a partner! Is still coiling in the depths of your stomach). You’d prefer if it simply never occurred at all.

You can see your ex’s forearm flexing as he shakes John’s hand. The microexpression that flicks across your date’s face confirms your suspicion- Michael is (for some reason) trying to use an overexaggerated grip to establish some sort of dominance in the situation.

The quick really? that reads on John’s face rapidly turns to a bemused and subtle if that’s how you want to play then, a barely noticeable shift in his own grip resulting in Michael wincing.

“Captain John Price,” his tone is easy, betraying none of the pissing contest your ex instigated and is failing miserably to get one over on John.

Your ex mumbles his full name, clearly realizing that whatever his brilliant little plan is a) isn’t so brilliant to begin with b) he might just be alert enough to acknowledge the fact that he clearly has no true plan. He came over with the intention of being an asshole and has been flying blind the entire time.

There’s one woman from the group your ex split off from who is watching the three of you keenly. If you were to guess, she is probably his new girlfriend.

You can’t help but wonder- does she know enough to know that this is routine behavior for him? That he throws himself headfirst into a situation he hasn’t planned out- isn’t sober enough to plan out? Situations that don’t need to occur just so he can throw his weight around? Too petty to give a genuine “Hello, how are you? It’s been a while. I want to talk to you about Sam when we’ve both got some free time?”

Everything is vindictive. Constantly worrying about not being undermined and being respected to the point he gets in his own way. Actively sabotages his own opportunities. In dire need of therapy to work through his issues because you know the alcohol is how he copes and you’d sympathized at first but the reasons became excuses and then he’d started blaming you and-

-John places his arm on the back of your chair again and you pull yourself out of your mental spiral.

“I think your date is waiting for you, Michael. Best not to keep the lady waiting.” John observes, his tone neutral despite being a clear dismissal.

“You’ll be hearing from me later. I want to see my son.” Michael’s ignoring John’s presence but taking the hint.

You don’t fling a final barb at him. The venom has been drained out of you and you just want the interaction over and done with. Let him have the last word. You just want him gone.

You merely cast a look over at the woman who is Michael’s date for the evening and hope she’s got better sense than you did- that she leaves before he sinks his claws in her too.

The weight that settled in your stomach upon first seeing him is finally lightening up on you. You know you’ll wake up tomorrow to a barrage of phone calls and text messages that you won’t answer. It’s probably not good you’re so desensitized to the idea that it barely registers as a problem. Merely one of life’s many inconveniences.

“You alright, love?” John’s voice helps you shake the last of the tendrils that cling to you.

“Yes. Sorry. Wasn’t expecting to run into him of all people tonight, is all.”

“Never fun being ambushed, is it?”

You take a bit of a risk- you know enough about his job but he’s steered the conversation away from it every time the topic would naturally shift that direction. You know how Kate’s work can go and you assume his is very similar. “Well you’d certainly know more about that than I would.”

It works. The two of you break out in grins, and you find yourself no longer worrying about Michael and your focus readily settling back on John where it belongs.

At some point- long after the single cube in John’s drink has melted, and the condensation of your wine glass has soaked the bev nap underneath it, and more importantly long enough that you don’t feel that you’re fleeing the restaurant- the suggestion is made to go back to John’s. “No more surprises, hm?”

You gladly follow him. You’d taken an Uber to get to the restaurant, anticipating drinking and hoping to go home with him, so you have no worries about your own car.

You can easily see him being the type to give you a quick, chaste kiss on the doorstep after safely dropping you at home. In another universe you’d appreciate the restraint, enjoy fleeting touches over the course of a few dates that get more intense each time before finally finding yourself in his bed.

In this universe however, you don’t have to wait. Don’t want to, either. You get to indulge your earlier impulse of crawling into his lap, knees spread wide on either side of his waist. Lowering your hips allows you to feel him and what exactly he’s packing between his own legs. Your hips cant in short motions and heat coils heavy in your gut.

From the feel of things he’s proportional and John is not a small man. There’s a brief flicker that runs through your mind that you might be in over your head with him. The pent up lust and desire stifles that flicker. You’re more than game to see what a night with him ends up being like.

His hands are warm against your skin- one cupping the back of your head and keeping you close as the pair of you make out, the other settles on your hip and keeps you steady as you grind down on him.

You are possessed with the desire to get his cock in your mouth.

It’s cute how his face follows yours as you pull away from him.

“Help me with my dress?” Your question is perfectly innocent as you turn your back to him, presenting the zipper that runs down the length of your back.

His pleased laugh warms you, a shiver of desire and anticipation running down your spine as his breath fans across the back of your neck.

You’ve got a surprise waiting for him underneath your dress, partially revealed as one of his hands holds the top of the dress steady while the other draws the zipper down.

You gave him the hint you were wearing stockings when you’d baited him back at the restaurant, letting the heavy fabric of the dress fall to a heap around you before kicking it off to one side.

Turning back to face him, John seems quite enraptured with his surprise.

The lingerie set is a matching shade as your jewel toned dress, the garter belt clipping to the sheer black thigh high stockings.

There’s always that split second hesitation when revealing yourself to someone- the anxiety of if they’ll be pleased with what’s presented to them.

John is the first person you’ve been with since you’ve had your child, and the slight anxiety quells quickly at the look on his face.

John looks like he wants to eat you alive. Any insecurity is knocked firmly aside by desire quickly ramping back up.

Placing one hand on his thigh to steady yourself as you lift a leg to take your shoe off, John is quick to stop you. “Leave them on for now, love.”

It’s a request but it’s not. Really that doesn’t surprise you- he is someone who is likely used to having his whims accommodated to. You find yourself having no urge to defy him, nodding in compliance. If John wants your heels to stay on, then they’ll stay.

He guides you between his legs, enough space between his knees for you to slot yourself in. With him sitting on the bed he’s shorter than you standing straight up in your heels. Bending down to give a quick, teasing kiss you let yourself drop to your own knees.

“You don’t have to-“

“I want to,” you assure him with doe eyes and are rewarded with him settling into the bed as your hands go to work on his belt.

Unable to resist teasing him, you mouth at his bulge through the thick fabric of his pants. You’re rewarded with a soft cant of his hips, having his belt undone and working on the button and zip of his pants in record time.

Your earlier suspicions are correct. John is a big boy in more ways than one. You want him in your mouth- now.

While you’re occupying yourself with getting his pants off, John shucks his shirt and shoes.

He is, simply put, delicious to look at. From the broad muscling to the thick dark hair running from his chest down his abdomen. He doesn’t have the hard chiseled abs of a man who lives in the gym but the sturdy build that comes from having useful, functional muscle that’s put to work.

And that’s incredibly hot. He’s girthy as hell in your hand as you give a few strokes before putting your mouth on him.

You’re not entirely certain if deep throating him is going to be an option, but by God you’re going to try.

“Bloody hell, love.” John grunts while you bob your head up and down the length of him. You’re gauging just how much of him you can get in your mouth- where your threshold is before your gag reflex wants to kick in.

He’s petting you. Doubtless trying to fight the urge to fist your hair, his hips struggling to stay still on the bed.

You want him to. You feel feral, all the pent up sexual energy you’ve been storing for God-knows-how-long welling up all at once. You want this man carnally and your brain presently thinks having your hair held in place and your throat fucked is a fantastic idea.

John clearly has other plans, restraining himself and letting you work at your own pace. That low, deep breathing paired with his soft grunts and voiced encouragements stoke the flames of your arousal hotter.

Eventually you do need air, pulling off of him for a moment. Your hand works his shaft and teases the tip of him as you lean forward to run your tongue up and down the length of him, dropping a bit lower to lave at his heavy sac. He jolts which only encourages you to do it again.

You know your eyes are one of your better features- you’ve heard the compliment enough times both in and out of the bedroom, holding John’s gaze as you lick him back up the length of his shaft and circle the head once before having caught your breath enough to wrap your lips around him once more.

The second time around you’re able to get a bit more of him down your throat, but not all the way. What you can’t reach you stroke with one hand, the other resting on his thigh to help balance yourself as you work. You can feel the tension building in his thigh as he gets closer, pleased with yourself.

It’s a heady feeling. You don’t know exactly all the dirty details of his job but understand enough to know you’ve got a powerful man at your whim right now and that scratches a deep seated itch in you.

“Good girl,” his praise washes over you, warm and welcoming. “Just like that-“

You’re intent on sucking the soul out of him, all doe eyes and hollowed cheeks with those painted red lips. Eventually he gives into the urge to grab a fistful of your hair. He doesn’t do anything to interrupt the rhythm you’ve settled into, letting you move as you see fit.

He bites out your name and you feel the muscles in his leg drawn tight. “I’m getting close, love.”

It’s not quite a question. You give your not-answer by doubling down on him. You’re so close to having him in your mouth all the way to the base. You don’t want to back off. What you do want is for him to finish down your throat.

You get your wish. John’s fist tightens and you let out a grunt as his thrusting results in your nose pressed against his public bone.

The taste of him doesn’t really register as he spills inside your mouth, your focus on breathing through your nose and keeping your gag reflex down.

He’s petting your hair again, praises falling freely from him and soft apologizes. “Lost myself for a moment there, love. You alright?”

You keep your mouth hilted on him for a moment to prove a point- you’re fine, he didn’t push you past threshold- before finally releasing his softening cock.

He’s pulling you up to him after that, an open mouthed kiss that flusters you considering he just came in your mouth. “You’re just a treasure,” his voice purrs in your ear. “Only fair I return the favor, hm?”

He guides you to lay on the bed, knees hanging over the edge before he turns to settle between your legs.

He starts at your neck. You’re ticklish at one spot his lips, squirming in his hold with a giggle. “Sensitive, hm?”

You nod out a “mhm,” that breaks into a breathy moan as he works his way down your chest. Rather than removing your bra his hands work to pull your breasts free from the cups before paying particular attention to your nipples.

His hands are warm as they roam your ribcage, the heat of his body seeping through the lace of your outfit as his fingers trail across your skin and the delicate material.

“You’re so soft, love,” you don’t quite know how to respond to the compliment, mewling wordlessly in pleasure at the attention.

That seems to appease him as he kisses his way down your sternum and to your belly, the expanse of most of it covered by the fabric of the garter belt.

His eyes flick up to your own as his lips travel closer to the apex of your thighs. Where you’ve been lying patient and pliant in his grasp, the eye contact draws something tight in your core and you squirm again.

The next thing you feel is teeth as he nips you. “Be a good girl for me,” he tells you, soothing the soft throb of his bite with his tongue.

You force yourself to still as he moves lower, lower, lower- taking his time and having you thoroughly worked up before moving to the next patch of skin.

When he’s down far enough he slides one of your thighs over his shoulder, that arm looping under your arm and banding across your abdomen.

It’s his turn now to mouth at your clothed sex.

He pulls the gusset of your thong aside after a moment of teasing, his lips descending on you.

“Oh,” your hand immediately finds purchase in his hair, a pleased whimper escaping you at the feel of John’s tongue.

John feasts on you. There’s not much else that can be done to describe it. It’s lewd and wet as he laps at you, the flesh of his tongue doing little to soothe the burning ache inside you and only ramping it up.

Those eyes are wicked as he gazes up at you from between your thighs. The hand resting on your lower stomach is pressing ever so lightly, like John wants the pressure there but not too much yet and you’re once again struck with the idea you might be in over your head with him.

“John, please,” you beg. It feels good but you need more, lust clouding your brain as your hips rock against his face.

“You need to be patient, love. I’ll take care of you. Just relax, hm?”

It dawns on you that he’s probably running down the clock until his refractory period is up. That he doesn’t want to get you going too quick and then be stuck not quite ready to perform.

It’s an assumption, and you’re not 100% sure that you’re correct, but it’s a solid enough option that you move forward with that in mind.

The thought almost makes it easier to relax into the bed- the idea that John is going to pleasure you with his mouth until enough time has passed and he can get it up again. That he’s not just mindlessly toying with you with no end goal in mind.

It feels good you’re just stuck being greedy and wanting more stimulation despite knowing that won’t happen until John decides he’s ready to give you more.

You almost jump when the fingers you’ve been waiting for make their presence known. His mouth moves to focus on your clit, lips making a seal and sucking on it. You cry out, hips canting as his fingers gently rub at your labia.

He starts with one, gently sliding it in and out of you. Your back arches in satisfaction of having something to clench on and rub against. It’s more satisfying than just one of your own- that was for sure.

“That’s it love,” John praises you while easing a second one into you.

The second finger is what you were looking for, stimulation wise. John pets and strokes you, thumb gently working over your clit in soft circles before putting his mouth back on you.

He doesn’t just find your g-spot. John’s fingers are placed so they hone in on that spongy bit of tissue tucked inside you. He doesn’t let up on it, tongue working on your clit as you arch your back helplessly and moan.

That pressure is back on your abdomen, the hand not currently stroking you to nirvana pressing down on your belly.

You moan and buck against his hold. Your orgasm is creeping up on you and it’s like he’s determined to make you squirt.

“You keep that up and I’m gonna make a mess,” you warn him- not entirely certain how he’ll respond to the prospect of you squirting on his face.

John looks delighted and you realize that yes, you are in over your head with him.

There’s a mischievous glint in his eye as he pulls back from you, “You promise, love? Don’t tease me.”

Oh dear God- Next thing you know he’s reaching over you to pull a pillow from the top of the bed, wedging it underneath your hips before returning to his place between your thighs.

You’re flustered at how eager he is to see you squirt. His mouth is back on you, sucking on your clit and making your legs shake as two fingers go right back to abusing your g-spot, his free hand pressing on your belly increasing the pressure that is mounting by the second.

There’s nothing else for you to do but grab a fistful of his hair and hang on. “Please- oh! J-John! Right there,” at your encouragement he locks in on the spot that’s got you arching your back and your thighs trembling.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Show me,” he’s moaning encourments against your skin and you feel like a bow drawn tight and ready to snap. You’re so, so close.

The sounds he draws out of you- both from your mouth and between your legs- are filthy and vulgar and you don’t care at all as he gets you teetering just on the edge.

You’re practically gasping for breath, eyes screwing shut as the hand not buried in John’s hair fists the sheets next to you. You babble his name, chants of John all your brain can muster.

All that pressure coiling in you snaps and gushes out, literally and metaphorically.

“Good girl, making such a mess for me,” John’s praise has you flushing hot while his fingers work you like he’s making sure he can wring out every single last drop.

He stops when you have nothing left to give him, a trembling mess shivering in his hold.

Your brain at some point made the windows shut down noise, needing a moment to settle as you process what John just did to you.

This is the hardest you’ve cum in ages, certainly better than the orgasms you’ve given yourself during your little dry spell.

You return to the land of the living with his lips on yours, tasting yourself as he soothingly strokes your side. “You back with me?” He asks, eliciting a nod from you.

“Please tell me you have a condom,” your tone is pleading. You still want to ride him but you’ve learned your lesson about practicing safe sex. Once was, in fact, all it took for things to go off the rail.

“I do,” he stands, moving to the nightstand and opening a drawer.

Now that your legs feel somewhat compliant you sit yourself back up.

No sooner than John’s got the condom on then you’re guiding him back down, having him lay on the edge of the bed.

It takes a bit of maneuvering, getting yourself situated so your heels don’t catch on his sheets, but you’re straddling him with the leg closest to the edge of the bed hanging over the side as the opposite leg folds underneath you. You hover over him while getting everything lined up. The position of your legs allows you to alternate which one is supporting the brunt of your weight, a factor that is going to be fairly important once you’ve hilted yourself on John.

Even with how pliant your body is it takes a moment for the head of him to breach you.

“Oh,” you let out a breath as you sink down on him. You’re not able to get all the way to the base of him on the first go, getting your weight underneath yourself and lifting almost completely off of him before dropping down again. You get a little further this time, a moan escaping you.

“That’s it, love. Nice and easy,” his voice coos in your ear, that low timber having you liable to melt.

He’s thick. Not in a way that’s insurmountable to manage, but you have absolutely no complaints with how he fills you and anticipate being pleasantly sore in the morning.

Two more slow bounces have you sinking low enough to hilt yourself on him, taking a moment to enjoy the sensation of sitting fully on his lap.

One of his hands braces on your hip, the other his thumb circles your clit. You squirm at the stimuli, relishing in the feel of him before getting to work.

This is what you’ve been drooling over all night. Your reward is very well earned in your opinion. Moaning lowly as you bounce up and down, your movements are initially slow and languid but pick up speed as you get your bearings. John’s heavy exhales and grunts when you clench only serve to wind you tighter.

“You feel good, pretty girl? Hm? You like bouncing on my cock?”

You flush- a ridiculous notion given how you’re quite literally hilted on his dick-, face hot from the dirty talk.

The hand on your hip helps guide you to a pace that’s pleasurable for the both of you, eyes rolling as he thrusts his hips in a way that makes you see stars. “Yes! John- yes! Oh it feels so good,” your voice a low purr as he delivers on every fantasy you’ve had this evening.

The stretch of him in you feels absolutely incredible, knocking the air out of you on each bounce. It doesn’t take long until that knot begins to form again, growing steadily as you rise and fall in his lap. The press of his finger circling your clit draws staggered moans, bracing on him for support.

“Been thinking about this all night,” John grits out. “Wanted to flip you over the bar top and have my way with you right there on the dining room floor.”

You moan at the confession, feeling less like a rabid dog with no impulse control now you know you’re not alone in the intense desire that had struck once you’d laid eyes on him.

“Probably wouldn’t have- ah! st-stopped you,” you tell him. The grip on your hip tightens at that, another moan escaping you as you bounce on him.

Your eyes roll in pleasure, cunt practically fluttering from the way he keeps getting you to clench. The thickness of his girth doesn’t just let him keep hitting that spot in you with lift of your hips so much as the mushroom tipped head of his cock drags across it.

“Aren’t you just a fucking treasure,” he praises.

Your thighs are burning, eased by the position of your legs and John’s grip helping you but becoming more present with each wet clap of your sex against his lap. It almost helps you tip closer to another climax.

Your eyes squeeze shut, a staggered breath escaping you.

“Eyes on me,” he tells you and you comply immediately.

“John, please I’m so close,” your thighs are shaking again, threatening your already precarious balance.

“You need more, pretty girl?”

You shake your head. “No-no. Just don’t stop. Please don’t stop!”

And bless him, he doesn’t do anything to fuck up your rhythm. The fingers circling your clit keep the same tempo and pressure perfectly, his free hand still helping guide you up and out of his lap before sitting you back down.

You know you’re about to come but are caught off guard by how sharp it is as you squirt for a second time.

The sight of you spurting across his abdomen nearly severs any control John has left. The next thing you know John’s abandoned your overstimulated clit in favor of rolling you onto your back, your heels clattering to the floor from the motion. Your legs go instinctively to clamp around his waist for security- only one of them does, the other stopped by wet fingers gripping your thigh by your knee as he spreads you open. His weight is held on the forearm bracing next to your head by the time you process the shift in position.

“You alright, pretty girl?”

You can’t quite get your words out but manage a nod. “Ye-yeah,” you eventually stagger out as he waits for a verbal confirmation.

With the comfort that you were fine, that gives John the assurance he needs to seek his own pleasure.

More than satisfied with your two climaxes, you lay limp and pliant in his grasp while he chases his own end.

The wet squelch of his cock splitting you open with each thrust was loud and obscene although you were too far gone in the blissed out pleasure to care. Your whole body feels delightfully tingly, your head swimming pleasantly.

You clench down on him a few times, more for his benefit than anything else. You’re spent but more than willing to help him across the finish line as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, muttering praises that are punctured with short, sharp thrusts before he stiffens as his own climax hits.

The two of you have both broken into a light sheen of sweat by the end of things. After a moment to recuperate John stands with a “I’ll be right back.” (And you unabashedly enjoy the view of his ass while he retreats to the bathroom.)

True to his word he returns shortly, evidently having disposed of the condom with a towel in hand for you.

The pair of you get yourselves clean and sorted. Before you can decide how you want to ask, John seems to already know what the question is.

“You don’t need to leave, do you?”

Again it’s not entirely a question, but still gives you an out if you want to take it.

You don't want to take the out.

[talibunny30]

ACOSF was my favourite book of the ACOTAR series but I have a few points that WERE NOT cool.

- Cassian treated Nesta like absolute shit. Just off the top of my head:

--- when he said everyone hates her. As a 500+ year old male, how has he never experienced someone having this trauma response after a war? He is a general... Like wtf?

--- when he laughed at her when she fell down the stairs. She was severely hurt and he didn't even help her. What kind of mate is that?

--- how he never defends her against the IC. He didn't stand up for her during their intervention. He never defended her when Mor said she should be taken to the CON... What kind of mate is that?

--- how he chooses Mor over Nesta. What kind of mate is that?

--- having sex with her right after the Big of Oorid ordeal??? Likkkke dude. Her mouth was shredded. She nearly died... What the ffffffuuuuuuuck? What kind of mate is that?

- The judgement she gets for drinking and sleeping around when the IC constantly have alcohol and have said before that they have had many sexuak partners as well as how they dealt with the first war... Hypocritical beyond!

- Why does she have to be isolated and trapped in the House of Wind? Feyre hates Tamlin for trapping her in the manor but she does the exact same thing to her sister? What kind of bullshit is that? Hypocritical beyond!

- Amren saying Nesta is a waste of life and then NO ONE calling her out on that?? Likkkke that is some bullshit.

Many more reasons, but these are just at the top of my head for my rant.

[lasirenatarot]

💞What’s next for you when it comes to love? {until the end of 2023; prediction for singles}💞

« ‘cause I love to love, to love, to love you, I hate to hate, to hate, to hate you… »

Pick a picture:

*if traditional gender roles don’t apply to your situation convert the words to feminine & masculine energy*

1->2

3->4

5

Pile 1:

Looooooovely pile!!!

You’ve probably waited for such love for a long time. A new person might appear in your life, in your eyes s/he will be like a « knight on a white horse ».

If you DO meet this person during sept.-end of december time frame, you might meet them at work, at a bank, somewhere closely connected to money, or this person may be deep pocketed😂💰. They appear as the king of pentacles.

Something I also get is that you may feel small in comparison to them, they may be bigger in size, older or simply just way more accomplished than you which will make you have a lot of respect for them and kind of look up to them. This person may have a lot of dominant&masculine energy even if they are not a male.

The connection that appears in the cards is « beyond words ».. take this as you wish.

A lot of physical attraction is present here as well, maybe in connection with the person you’ll start a relationship with or in general, other people may be very attracted to you until the end of 2023.

You will pretty much have an open heart for new love related possibilities, you will be full of love and positive energy.

Even if you do not meet this person during this exact time frame, sth may happen that may lead you to this person later on.

The energy of this pile reminds me of pile 5 so check it out.

Messages for this pile:

- happiness;

- new possibilities when it comes to love;

- begginings; (of a new relationship, or proposal of your current partner, whatever it is it’s a beggining of a new era in love for you)

Pile 2:

Someone may try to win you over. They will view you as a “risk worth taking”. May be an ex of yours, or an ex fling, i’m definitely getting someone from the past. (Or may remind you of someone/sth old)

You may currently or during that time frame (until the end of 23’) be playing games with each other😂. Making the other a little jealous by making them know you have options,or making them see you with someone else on purpose.

Whoever this is they would want to prove themselves to you, prove that they are the best option possible- as a partner, in bed etc. They may be very competitive in nature.

They may give you gifts, help you with things (little acts of service), they are ready to do everything you need. They may act really gentle and loving towards you.

You may play hard to get with them for some reason, which may upset them, try not to overdo it, everyone has their limits.

Messages for this pile:

- sadness; (probably related to the old love)

- old love;

- pleasure; (probably $£xual)

Pile 3:

Okay so, the options are two: you either were in a serious relationship which you just ended, or you may end a relationship from september until the end of the year. This relationship may have been toxic for you. For some of you you may have a child with the other person and that may make you feel “tied” to them, which may make you doubt your decision to leave them. Or you may feel this way due to the memories you two share.

They may try to talk you out of this decision to end the relationship, they’ll try to make you stay. I feel like they may have cheated for some of you.👀

On one of the cards there’s that image where the guy pours a glass of wine in the woman’s mouth which I interpret as “feeding her” with lies& empty promises.

I think you will choose loving yourself and use your mind instead of your heart, as you’re portrayed in the cards as the queen of swords=logical, cold, does what she has to do. You will take this hard decision in order for your future to flourish.

Messages for this pile:

- an ending;

- serious relationship;

- affair;

Pile 4:

An ex might make a come back for some of you😂 this person probably wants only $€x from you, I heavily doubt they are coming for more as their coming up as the devil card, some of you may start “friends with benefits” relations with this person/ex.

I am also getting a second energy of a serious male energy, for which I am almost sure it’s a completely different person. You may want to start a serious committed relationship with them. You may feel a lot of emotions (love) when it comes to them. You two are presented here as the king and queen of cups, very emotional people.

You may finally feel “embraced”, confident in your body and truly loved during that time period.

Messages for this pile:

- new love;

- no strings attached typa relationship, nothing serious or simply you don’t intend to be serious with one another for the next few months;

- $\£x;

-ex;

Pile 5:

You may have been in this “hermit mode” for a while and have waited for love to happen to you.

However, it will only happen to you after you heal and learn to be grateful for everything you’ve got, even the little things. ( tip from me: regularly write like a list of random things you’re grateful for in your journal or a notebook).

After this time of “loneliness” you may meet someone new. May be by DMs/texts/ some sort of written communication or at a party/social gathering. This person will feel like a new beginning in your love life, you’ve never had a person like that before, you’ll view them as your emperor. They will be very attracted to you physically. You may discover things about yourself you didn’t know you liked when you’re with them. This person would make you feel safe and protected. They have a very powerful energy.

You two will have a very “intimate” connection in every meaning of the word. The energy of this pile reminds me of pile 1 so check it out.

Messages for this pile:

- new beggining;

- meeting someone new;

thank you for reading! Hope it resonated, comment if it did.💞 Don’t forget to follow for more.

- La Sirena.💋

Decks used: ‘$£xual magic’ oracle deck by Lo Scarabeo; ‘Amor et Psyche’ oracle deck by Georges Barbier and Rachel Paul;

ALL pictures are from pinterest, I don’t own anything :))

[most-datable-datable-bracket]

ROUND 3 MATCH 22

Claude propaganda:

"To say Claude has trust issues is an understatement—you have to spend half the game earning his. (Claude isn't even his real name!) Once you have it, though, he's absolutely ride or die for you until the stars go out. He is so full of heart and ambition: He wants both sides of his heritage to get along, he wants to open borders and eliminate xenophobia and promote equality between commonfolk, and deep down, I think he craves a partner to stand with him at that new dawn, or an equal who sees his vision for the future and will fight for it just as hard. Nobody believed in him when he was a kid, but if you put your faith in him, he'll return it tenfold. Some people don't like that he's calculating, or has to leave the player character at the end of the game to go back to his homeland, but both are necessary elements for his goals to change things. He will always come back, and everyone who bets against him and his love for his companions is wrong with a big fat W. #KhalidForMostDatablePrez"

"Claude is a fun little onion of facades. He calls himself the embodiment of distrust, he acts like he's carefree and without worries, an unscrupulous schemer--and so many in universe buy into that hook line and sinker. He's used to others viewing him with suspicion and uses it as armor to obscure his not-so-dark truth: that he cares immensely, that he values minimizing the loss of life, and that above all he has so much hope that people will fundamentally choose to do better given the choice.

His front guards a center that his conflict filled world would be happy to tear apart. As the child of people from two nations in constant conflict--one of which is explicitly isolationist and dehumanizes those outside its church's reach--he hasn't really had a place where he can be without his facade. As a child he thought he could run, but when confronted with the fact that this hatred existed no matter where he ran, he chose to instead try to create a more just and kind world.

His inability to let others in beyond his facade at first may lead to a sense of distance, but isn't it then all the more satisfying when you're allowed in? All he wants is a little trust, a little faith, and--like what he wants to give everyone--a chance to be better.

And like that you got a charming young lad with a fun personality that your grandma would be thrilled to have stay forever."

Hades propaganda:

“Fields of Asphodel is a work in progress (but nearly finished!) text-based IF game where the MC plays the part of Persephone (you can rename your character tho) who get married to Hades at the behest of Zeus (being a giant douchebag per usual) and move to the Underworld. Hades is kind and respectful and cares deeply for his realm. He feels guilty that the MC was forced into this arranged marriage and does whatever he can to make the MC more comfortable. Even if the MC wants to leave, he puts the MC's feelings first. He drinks that respect women (gender neutral) juice everyday. Listen, this marriage is arranged by Olympus King Dick Zeus, so Hades has absolute zero problems if the MC dates someone else from his realm. Choose someone else's route (if you can!) He has the cutest kid, Makaria and of course everyone's favorite puppy Kerberos. Hades is a slow burn, he dodges and swerves the MC's flirting, pretending to be oblivious. He's not oblivious at all to the growing feelings between the two and that's what makes it sooo good.”

[niuniente]

PICK A CARD WITH NIU Choose an image (or more than 1) and read below a message meant for you from The Spiritual Realm. Only take what resonated with you and leave the rest.

I thought that since I can't keep up with the Youtube channel, I can allow some simple pick a cards here.

☕ 1: Tea and Pulla Sweet Bun 🥐

A saving grace is right on the horizon. This is the famous 11th hour, when the door finally opens and the solution arrives just when you have given up. To reach this liberation you're seeking, you need to allow yourself just to be. It's OK not to know. It's OK not to have the answers. This is a card of a positive surrender where you throw your hands up in the air and admit that you've done all you can - now the rest is in the hands of some higher power. Once you surrender and allow currents to take you, you can finally get your solutions, answers and have the doors opening. Imagine this as a situation where you try to pull a door open. You have been trying too hard. You've tried all you can imagine to get that damn door open. Finally, all tired and frustrated, you give up and just toss yourself against the door with a shout "I give up!". And, you know what? That door was a push door. It was never going to open by you pulling it but you were so busy telling yourself that you have to get this door open and giving all you've got and some beyond to get the door open that you never realized that it was a push door. 

Same kind of letting go is needed now. Letting go of the reins is scary but worth it. If your life has already been in chaos and you have already surrendered, then know that it will pay off. Likely faster than you realized.  This need to let go of control and trying too hard can fall into any area of life; work, school, relationships, love, hobbies, interests etc.

Remember that no matter how many setbacks you've had, no matter how often you have failed, no matter how hard you have tried, you have not been abandoned. You're on the right track. The Universe will step in and set things for your favor, no matter how impossible it would seem to you. Relax and let this storm pass, as you can't tell a storm to stop or go away. You've got this. Be more gentle with yourself and give yourself credit for; life has been hard but you've gone so far. It will get better. If it didn't, you wouldn't be reading this message now.

If you want a personal private reading, order one from my Etsy.

🐤 Picture 2: Bird and Cherry Tree 🌸

Congratulations are in order! A lucky strike is about to hit you! Things will turn into your favor and you can literally see some sort of a figurative spring arriving to your life, maybe after a figurative winter. This is a good time to take risks, gamble and most importantly remain optimistic and positive. Have a sense of ease and fun, as things will work out for your favor, in a way or another. This lucky strike can fall on a certain area of life or on multiple areas of life at the same time; health, work, study, relationships, love, finances, move etc. If you are an adult and hoping to get pregnant, this is a good time for pregnancy. For singles, go out there and mingle!

You are asked to feel the thrill of victory and gratitude towards this win of yours, even if it wasn't here yet. Just like a child on a birthday or some other occasion, where you know something wonderful will definitely happen and you don't even second guess it. Allow yourself to take this good luck, this golden ticket from Lady Luck. Don't feel guilty for being victorious and having things working out for you. If you are in a situation where all is at ease and life is easy, fun and abundant to you, don't feel guilty or ashamed of this. You feeling miserable because someone else is miserable and unlucky will only have two people - you and the other - feel miserable.

This win feels very personal. It is possible that you can't share this with others, like for example the pregnancy I mentioned earlier; only you or your partner can be pregnant with the baby meant for you. Only you can get that job. Only you can graduate now. Only you can take that trip. Only you can win something meant for you. If you get a financial windfall, invest into your own self first. Be generous towards yourself. You've earned this!

If you want a personal private reading, order one from my Etsy

🌏 Picture 3: The Planet and Stars ⭐

You might have set your eyes on a goal (or plan to do so) which will require hard work and loving discipline. Hard work and patience is needed with this goal, and it is possible that this goal is either a bit hard to reach, takes a long time to reach or it's rare in a way that not many have gone after it. Such a goal can be anything from saving money for a big purchase, learning a new skill or a new language, exercising for a certain body, painting a gigantic mural, transitioning, wanting to cover yourself with tattoos, or even just growing your hair really long.

You are asked to have a sense of success and abundance as you go towards this goal; I can do this! I've got what's needed to obtain it! I can make it! It's worth it! This goal might be something which has been on your mind for a long time and perhaps you have tipped your toe in its waters but now, the time seems to be right for this journey - all the way to the victorious end goal. You've grown, you've planned, you've investigated, you've given yourself time to consider this. This card gives me a feel of a mature decision, whether this goal of yours is a new style or a business of your own. Whatever is calling you, it is calling you for a reason. This call is positive.

You might need to let go of something or someone to obtain this goal, because it's going to ask for either a bigger transformation or more of your time and resources. If you, for example, learn a new language you need to clear space from your daily schedule for it. Or, if you are going to save money for something big, you have to cut down your expenses. Or, perhaps you want to obtain a job, a home or an education which is available in a different city/state/country and it requires you to move. Also, moving from singlehood to a relationship or from a bad relationship to a singlehood is this kind of a shift this card is talking about. Don't hesitate to let go of things and make room for this change. Keep going, you can do this and in the future, you will be happy that you kept going and allowed yourself to explore this option.

If you want a personal private reading, order one from my Etsy

[starmosaics]

Venus square Neptune

I have this aspect in my own chart and I've known many people with it in theirs. When Venus squares your Neptune, you can often brush past people’s flaws by magnifying and highlighting the good things about them to the point where you're not seeing the other clearly. Oftentimes these folks don’t see people for who they are because they unconsciously choose to only see another's positive qualities, looking at them through a rose colored lens or placing them on a pedestal higher than where they place themselves, which is why it’s so important for people with this aspect to learn the importance of somewhat detaching themselves from the other and to examine whether or not they're projecting their ideals and expectations. The idea of a person will always be more appealing than the actual person who's standing in front of us. Wishful thinking is huge with this aspect and it can be incredibly destructive as they can perceive something to be greater than it is or put high unrealistic expectations on others.

With this aspect, you kind of choose what you want to see in a person, especially in romantic relationships and when the illusion breaks, what’s underneath can be deeply unsettling for one with a Venus-Neptune square. This is one of the hardest aspects a person can have on their Venus in my opinion because it puts a veil over one's Venus beautifying everything; even the ugly. Red flags turn into a pretty pink and once that veil is lifted we have a hard time forgiving ourselves for not seeing the obvious blaring cautionary signs or for not being rational enough. Tina turner, Whitney Houston, Diane Keaton, Joan Collins, and Stevie Nicks all have this aspect in their charts and all have faced major challenges in regards to their romantic relationships.

These people may attract partners who may not always have their best interests; they may date people who portray themselves as one kind of person when they're the complete opposite, get into a relationship with somebody who is deceiving, or they may face a painful unrequited love. They can often take rejection personally as if it reflects something about themselves, but the truth is rejection is to protect us from those who aren't the right person for us. Neptune is a very distorting and illusive planet when harshly aspecting another planet. These people have a hard time saying no and often fall into people pleasing tendencies as well. Dating is confusing, exhausting and oftentimes very heartbreaking. These people may feel a sense of sorrow for putting in so much effort towards their relationships or a towards person that did not reciprocate.

In romance, Venus-Neptune people are often looking for the love of their life. They're hopeless romantics waiting to cross paths with the one. Venus-Neptune people go through the ringer when it comes to dating and over time they become discouraged and soon realize that maybe their fantasy was never going to come true. Because of this cyclical pain and rejection, they can become entirely closed off to romance by creating ideals that absolutely no one can fulfill.

They can also get into a relationship with someone who does love them, but if it’s not the kind of grandiose fairytale love the Venus-Neptune person is seeking or if the person doesn’t perfectly match their ideals or meet their expectations, they can exit the relationship out of dissatisfaction. A good way to combat this is to ask yourself if you yourself could fulfill all of the things you seek in a partner. This is the challenge because Venus-Neptune folks are hardcore lovers and they tend to repress that part of themselves if they’ve faced enough turmoil in their relationships, or like I said create unrealistic expectations in others, ruining their chance of being in a healthy relationship.

Something a Venus-Neptune individual should know is that the love that they so badly want does exist because they exist and that they don’t need to go over and beyond to receive the love they deserve; they should never plead someone to love them. They need to provide the love that they so badly want to offer another person to themselves first. They also need to determine whether or not their ideals are rooted in reality. Self love, self appreciation, and self examination are deeply needed to be practiced when one has this aspect.

[thirstyforkeanureeves]

This is what makes us girls

Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader - smut

You sneak out while Miguel sleeps, going to the club with friends, only to find someone waiting for you when you try to sneak back. Smut at the end

The reader is a bit of a innocent girl, no serious description of the way she looks so you can imagine yourself as you want to. Will probably write a part two that's only smut

• a bit dark at points • shower sex • fingering • praise • porn with plot

There was always magic in the ways the lights shine when you get drunk. It's like the world gets covered in a veil that makes everything a bit more dreamy, a bit more interesting, a bit more alive.

But for you, a couple more shots after this point, the world always started to become cold, lonely and devoid of its own reality. Like the alcohol wanted to teach you the self-control that you seemed to lack. A couple of shots, that should have been enough. But not for you.

And now the music was too loud, too strong, the lights too bright and all over the place and the warm breeze of the night seemed to be pushing thousands of little needles in your exposed skin.

You can hear your friends having the time of their life on the dance floor, surrounded by their boyfriends, some even husbands, living the nights before the work, marriage and kids catch on to them. Making the memories that will make them smile after 40 years.

And you wanted to have that. You were desperate to live that. Having waited most of your life for a better man, choosing your partners carefully, trying not to throw yourself at every relationship that can hurt you. And that landed you probably the best man on the planet - Miguel O'Hara. The one that always managed to make you too sweet, too bubbly, too child-like just with his presence. But what can be expected of you? You waited so long for someone you can trust, of course you'll be all over him any moment you have the chance.

But sadly that moment wasn't now. And you were left alone on the table in the club, completely drunk, feeling dirty and grimy from all the dancing and sweating, no boyfriend in sight.

You had imagined, maybe too naively, that the perfect man would be all smiles, kisses and sweet caresses into the long nights. Because that was love? Wasn't it?

You were sick of hearing you were too trusting, too kind, too naive. That the world will chew you and spit you out if you continued being this way. Your best friend said it, you ex said it, your mom and dad said it and now... now it was Miguel too.

You weren't at fault for wanting to be nice, for wanting to be kind, knowing that a bit more in the world can help, even if a little. You never knew what someone was going through, so you just tried to go through life as peacefully as you could... only for the weight to fall on you now, in the form of taunts, pesky arguments, stupid retorts about how dangerous reality can be for someone like you.

He could be an ass, that was clear. And you hoped he will be able to understand that side of you a bit better, even if it wasn't now, still someday...

But not tonight. After the 100th argument about you wanting to do something innocent that he turned into a speech about being responsible and taking care of yourself, because he couldn't always be there, you had had enough. And just as he went to bed, softly snoring next to you, used to the calmness you brought him, you got softly up, grabbing some clothes and makeup. You snuk to your friends house, getting ready with them for a night of your so called rebellion against what the world thought you are. They couldn't put you in a box. You were your own person. You were free to do whatever you wanted....

And yet, sitting alone at the table, beyond exhausted and depressed of being alone in the club, you decided that maybe independence wasn't for you. Not tonight at least.

You tried catching your friends attention, hoping they will maybe agree to go home with you or continue in a more quiet, not as depressing place. But they were long gone with the crowds of sweaty bodies, covered by the dim lights of the projectors, in a world of smoke and techno.

So you just texted them that you're catching a cab and going back home.

There was something entirely wrong and lonely, sitting in the quiet cab, all dolled up and sweet as you were, having no man beside you to make you feel safe, to make you feel loved, the same way you loved him. Your thoughts continued getting darker and darker, your little soul having always craved just to be loved, held and appreciated. Why did you think you'll find this in a couple of drinks at the club? Why did you ever think you'll be good with one night like this?

You should definitely start paying more attention to how much you drink.

You stumble out of the cab, barely managing to count the money the guy asked of you, happy that at least he didn't kidnap you or worse... Maybe you should have called Miguel after all? God knows you'll have to do magic to hide from him what you did tonight. Yet as you grabbed the railing of the steps infront of the small apartment building, you wondered if he'll be more angry or disappointed with you when he finds out. Because he always finds out.

The ride in the elevator only cemented the fact that whatever he said, you'll probably cry. You were drunk, exhausted and beyond lonely. All you wanted at this point in life was to snuggle that ridiculously big and strong frame of his, make your bed there and probably die. It didn't sound like a bad way to go out.

You stood for a moment infront of the door, eyes almost empty, hazy and lost, your little figure leaning from leg to leg as you wondered if you should expect something on the other side of it.

You looked down at the little dress you were wearing. The dress Miguel told you you'll never wear without him around.

Well that was a problem...

You prayed he was asleep, prayed you can just hide in the sheets till he left for work so you can clean yourself up and forget this pathetic attempt to prove to him you were independent, strong enough on your own.

And you were, of course you were. Just not as much in the social aspects of life...

The door creaks, you shadow crawling over the floor as you look around like a lost rabbit, skin rosy, legs and arms weak from the alcohol. And you step slowly, staggering just slightly as you put your high heels on the floor to the door, almost planting face down as you tried to keep your balance.

After closing the door and tiptoeing around like a criminal, you soudlessly made your way to the kitchen and living room.

You were getting somewhat confident that you managed to be so quiet till now, maybe you'll get to the bed in one piece. You were almost cheering yourself on as you stepped on the cold tiles of the kitchen... only to freeze in place, head too fuzzy from the shots to produce a proper scared reaction.

His dark, red eyes met yours, swimming with a cold, intense feeling, beckoning you in as in one hand he swirld a glass of whiskey. His torso was bare, sweatpants hanging loosely around his hips as he leaned on the kitchen counter, sizing you up with his eyes, gaze slowly crawling over your exposed skin in the little dress, taking in your disheveled, drunk state.

And you just didn't have a reaction. Maybe you were drunk, maybe scared, or plain too stupid to do anything. But you just stood there, chest softly raising and falling with little, a bit faster than usual, breaths.

"Should I ask the hard question first, or the easy one?" He asks calmly, too calmly, taking a sip of his whiskey, tilting his head almost curiously at you. And you felt shivers run down your little frame, fingers fidgeting behind your back as your fried brain scattered to understand what the fuck he meant by that. Was this a trick question? Of course it was!

He leans slightly forward, putting two hands on the counter as if he was looking down at a child, waiting for some funny answer. And you fidget harder, eyes big, taking all of the world in, cementing in his mind that what you did was more than stupid.

"Come on, sweetheart, I'm sure a big, brave girl like you can give me an answer" He was condescending, fully calm. Like nothing was happening. Like he wasn't ready to explode any moment. Or so you thought. Whatever it was, it just jumbled your brain further, sending mixed signals as your stomach churned, yet lava pooled in your abdomen at how confident, at how powerful he was right now. He held all the cards, not like you ever stood a chance, yet now you were more fucked than ever.

"Let me help you, little girl" He said, downing his glass and leaving it on the counter with a click. He knew you were drunk. And he knew how vulnerable, how helpless you got when you drank, how you only wished to be held, protected, hidden from the world till you could gather yourself again. And as much as he loved how sweet, how innocent and honest you could be, now he could only see you as a big, walking target, waiting for something to happen and for him to not be there.

Miguel knelt infront of you, sitting on the balls of his feet as he looked up at you, at your flushed, embarrassed face, slightly lost and nervous gaze, almost chuckling as his fangs poked from his lips. "Let's start with the easy one, since your brain is so dumbed down tonight it can't handle anything"

You wanted to protest. You were still fully capable of understanding what was going on, yet you knew it was meaningless. He was a storm in a bottle, waiting for just one wrong move, any excuse to remind you who he was and what he was doing.

"Where were you, princesa?" he doesn't move his gaze from you. He never does, intimidating anyone by just simply holding steady, confident eye contact. And you brunch the hem of your sweet white dress, swallowing dryly as you knew that he was right - you couldn't answer. Not when you knew he already had all the info from somewhere. He was Spider-Man, there was nothing he couldn't find out.

"What, you scared, cariño? Oh, you should know, I'm not the man you should be afraid of when you go to such places" Miguel chuckles darkly, his eyes glistening red as he lifts his hand and pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear. "I advise you to be honest with me" His tone becomes darker, words coming slow and clear as a flame burns in his gaze. "Let's try again: Where were you, princesa?"

You close your eyes, weighning your words, pushed in the corner with no other option than to dig your grave deeper. "I was at the club... with my friends"

You say quietly, voice high, coming out girlish in a way, like you had reverted back in time, standing infront of your parents as you were getting scolded. And he humms amused, his eyes still twinkling dangerously as he grabs your chin gently, tilting it in his direction. "The red lotus?"

The question is clear, easy. Yet so hard, stuck in your throat as you open those big eyes that put him in the ground whenever you did something this dumb.

You don't answer. It wasn't needed, he could read it all on your face.

His face darkens just for a second, his self-control faltering just for a second to betray his true feelings. And you feel your stomach twist, blood run cold. Not because you were scared of him, no, never. But because your gentle, kind mind couldn't bear the idea of disappointing the man you loved with all your heart.

"Miggy-" You try to say something, anything, but he stands up, shushing you with just one dark glance as he goes back to his glass, silently pouring another drink. And you felt your whole being twisting, wishing to just lay down with him, close eyes and dream of his strong embrace around you, where you belonged.

"Do you know what kind of men go there?" He asks a bit louder, not using any of the little nicknames he made up for you, making you freeze, even more guilty now.

He turns, a slight scow on his face that seems to grow with every second as the realization sinks deeper and deeper. A shit hole, a rat house, full of disgusting scum, drugs, weapons, rapists and human trafficking. Like any club in that part of the city. A place for someone either very stupid or very dangerous. And you were definitely not dangerous.

His gaze takes in your figure, sour venom building on his tongue as he looks at your exposed shoulders, soft legs, at your pretty skin and innocent features, only emphasized by that white short dress that he forbid you to wear if he wasn't there. Not because he wanted to be controlling.

Oh he knew how it looked. The big, bad boyfriend, telling his little girlfriend what she should and shouldn't do. But you didn't know these people like he knew them. You haven't seen the cases he has seen, the girls he has saved, the things he's had to do, just to begin cleaning the streets of the same scum that could take you any moment he left you alone. Oh no, he wasn't possessive, he was simply protecting you. And you didn't seem to understand it.

"How much did you drink?" He doesn't even feel like explaining to you how stupid what you did was. No, he was too tired and angry for that. His accusing tone showed it all.

You shift your weight on your other leg, his eyes catching every little movement, nose accustomed to your smell, now filled with the disgusting aroma of booze, cigarettes and sweat of other people. You don't look at him, not even remembering how much you had drank. It was a lot, too much to remember.

He looks at you almost unbelieving, finding it hard to stay in one place as he downs the glass again, leaving it on the counter and marching to you. He grabs you by your shoulders, wanting to shake you, bring you back to reality, but he just stays there, always mindful of his power with you. And you look up at him, unsure, gulping as you meet his dark eyes, see the storm brewing at the surface as he fights with himself to stay calm.

"I'm sorry-" You stutter out, broken, probably too late, as your chest tightens, unable to take a breath.

And in a heap of emotion, used to living in a harsh, scary world, world where no one will cut you slack, no matter how innocent and vulnerable you are, he grabs at the back of your dress, needing to do something, anything. And he rips it open like it was a piece of paper, shoving it off your body.

You gasp, wanting to say something, yet your knees grow weak, scared as you just stay there, leaving him to manhandle you. And Miguel lowers his face, breathing in your neck as his voice sends more than shivers down your spine "Told you you can't wear that fucking dress"

He let's the dress fall to the ground like a rag, grabbing your arm and pulling you with long strides towards the bedroom. And your small, dumb mind can't take what is happening, breaths coming in short as you try to keep up with him, tears already brewing in your eyes. "M'sorry, Miggy. Okay? I'm sorry, please!"

But he doesn't say anything, not even looking at you as he holds your wrist tightly. The only thing you could hear was the way his breathing whistled as he pulled you up the stairs.

He slams the door behind him, grumbling under his breath. And before you know it he pushes you on the bed, almost too roughly as you lose orientation for a second, brain unable to keep with the stress and alcohol. His rough hand is on your face in an instant, holding you in place as he looms over you, inches from your lips as he hisses. "Every fucking time - every fucking time I tell you what goes on in places like this! What men lurk there! I try to drill it in your little head again and again and you just don't fucking want to listen!"

Fat tears roll from your eyes. You always managed to get him angry by being too naive, believing too hard in things he knew this world will never give you... but this was the first time you ever got him to lose his temper. "Miggy-"

You sob, cheeks flushing from the tears as he hovers over you like a predator, ready to tear your troath out : "Don't you fucking start! I've had enough of your whining!"

Your breath hitches, body trembles as he huff in your face, red eyes glowing in the dim bedroom as he stares daggers in your soul. And you swallow pathetically, feeling absolutely helpless, absolutely powerless against this beast of a man.

"I try my damn hardest to protect you! To keep you away from this cruel world!" He hisses in your face and a pathetic whimper falls from your rosy lips. "Do you know how many girls I've saved from places like this!? Do you know how they look when I find them!? Huh? Do you-" He hisses so lowly, lowering further till your noses were touching. And you start feeling like you might suffocate under the pressure, unsure if it was from the alcohol, or you just knew, perfectly well knew what he was talking about. "I find them barely alive! Brutalized! Robbed of everything they are! Do you know how much therapy they need just to go on? You want this to happen to you!? You want me to find you like that as well? Do you know what I'll do if something happens to you? Do. You?"

He barely pushes the last words through gritted teeth, more than fury storming in his eyes. Miguel was a man of few words, choosing to keep his emotions in control in favor of being the bigger person in most situations. A man that had seen hell and came out on the other side.

And there you were his loyal, little girl, always a sunshine for him, always caring for him, doting and cooing at him, always sweet, gentle, kind, believing there was good in everybody.

His biggest fear, his greatest nightmare, seeing you go through what he had went through, what these girls went through, haunting his dreams every night.

He takes in a sharp breath, eyes junping between yours: "I'd kill all of them" He says coldly, not an ounce of regret, dead serious as he stares at you, shoulders tense as if he was ready to go through with it right now.

"Miggy, please" You sniffle, petrified, knowing better than anyone - Spider-Man doesn't kill, never will kill.

"I'll tear every single one of them to shreds" He holds your face tightly, refusing to look away from you: "I'll make them feel every ounce of pain you've felt, I'll make them scream and beg for death. But death will be too kind, too good for them"

You close your eyes, breathing shallow as your whole body trembles under him, unable to take all of this, unable to do any of this any longer.

And he stays there, looking over you, taking you in as he sees your disheveled state, smells the alcohol on your breath, waiting for something.

"Did anyone touch you?" A simple, straight to the point question. And you shake your head no pathetically, wet from tears lips parting as a little whimper escapes your lips. Your mind was too far out, too lost.

"Look at me, doll" He says sternly, squeezing at your jaw. And you open your eyes, unable to hide how scared, how worried and lost you were. "Did anybody touch you?"

"No" You rasp out, your voice betraying everything you were feeling, small hands fisting the sheets under you.

And he looks at you for a second, as if sizing you up, making your heart beat so hard you were sure he could hear it, feel it even.

"Why did you sneak out?" A cold, measured question, no room for lies, no room for escape.

You bite at the inside of your cheeks, chest fluttering as you fight the sobs. You didn't want to answer. Didn't want to give the pathetic excuse for an answer. But his piercing eyes left no other option.

"I wanted - I wanted to go out... when you said I shouldn't..."

"And why did I say you shouldn't?" Another straight question. This was an interrogation. He holds your face just as close, not stepping back, the heat of his strong body enveloping you. And you take in a shaky breath : "Because my friends wanted to go to the "Red lotus"

He steps back, getting off you and the bed, running a hand through his face as he breaths out, taking in your petrified form, knowing you were never stupid. You can't be. Just naive. Too good for this world.

And he knew he could be harsh on you. Taking out the frustration of his job, of the way he lived, on you. Because you were so far from anything he was. Anything he had seen. And it left him feeling powerless to protect you, walking on eggshells everyday, just thinking of what might happen to you if he wasn't around, if he wasn't strong enough.

You push yourself weakly on your elbows, looking at him always so expectingly, so innocent, like he was the sun in the sky, like you would do anything he asked of you. And you would. Because that's how much you trusted him. That's how much you loved him.

You bat your lashes at him, black tears running from your mascara, face red and open for him ro see everything. And your little figure, so soft and inviting, helplessly laying on the bed, melts all his anger away. He could never be mad at you. Not when you were so honest, so innocent in what you did.

You just wanted to prove to him you could stand your ground. That you were grown enough to be like any other person. But he knew this perfectly well. He knew you could be more than what this world wanted from you.

But he never wanted that from you. Never wanted you to change. Never wanted you to be anything, but the sweet, kind girl he had fallen in love. The girl that made him believe in good again, that gave him hope that it was worth to fight for this city. His princesa.

"I'm sorry..." You murmur through sniffles for the 100th time and he can't stand this role any more.

He cringes at the way he's been acting, a bit irrational, a bit controlling, a bit lost himself in feelings he couldn't really explain. And he let's out a soft sigh, running around his head as he thinks.

He had been stupid. Not finding a way to explain his reasoning better, to talk to you calmer, like a grown up person, instead of that letting his feelings and morals dictate everything. When life was supposed to be a harmony between it all. Even if he was right, he couldn't prove that by just being harsh and honest. Especially not with you.

So he slolwy crosses the distance between you two, wrapping strong arms around you, pulling you up in his embrace as your legs wrap around his torso and you hide your face in his neck.

"Just... don't ever do that again" He tries to say it gently, but the undertone was clear. You won't be doing it again. Never again.

And you nod, hot breaths caressing his skin as you cry off the pressure in quiet sobs, melting in his protective embrace : "I won't... I'm sorry. I didn't like it. I don't want to go without you..."

His arms tighten around you, head falling in your neck as he breaths you in, trying to push in his memory the way your soft body melts in his, the way it fits so perfectly with his.

"You didn't like it?" He asks quietly, voice soft again and your heart fills with child-like happiness that he wasn't mad again, your alcohol soaked brain just wanting to be loved and cared for.

"No... I didn't like going there alone. Everyone had their partners or just wanted to drink and party... But I always wanted to be there with you. Maybe dance and laugh and stupid things like that..."

He humms at your baby voice, showing him once again how pure at heart you were. You didn't even want to get drunk if it meant he won't be there to hold you.

"Yet you still went..." it wasn't an accusation, but he couldn't help but say it. And you push yourself closer against him, slightly embarrassed, wishing this night could end.

He knows he won't get an answer from you. Knows you did it in affect, angry after the argument you had yesterday about him not wanting you to go to a place like this club. Especially when he couldn't be with you because if his work. So he drops it, but not before asking one last thing: "Promise me you won't do that again, kay? I know I can be overbearing at moments, but I need you to understand that I'm just terrified of the thought of losing you... seeing you end up like all these women I've had to..."

He couldn't finish the thought, the words lodging in his troath as he hid his face in your neck.

You sigh softly, weighing the words, trying to understand their full meaning through the fog in your brain: "I promise"

That's all he needed. He trusted you, he knew you. And he wouldn't question it, knowing your relationship was built on trust and it should stay like this.

He held you for some time like that, just enjoying the intimacy, not wanting to break the little peace you had managed to build within the storm, letting your sniffles calm down as he rocked you gently from time to time.

"You wanna take a bath, princesa? Would be good after a place like that..." Finally he breaks the silence, knowing you didn't like to go to bed dirty.

"Yeah..." You rasp out, not bothering to get off him. "But you should go to bed. You have work tomorrow"

He chuckles at your constant worry, even when drunk.

"I called off the moment I heard you leave through the door. I knew I had to wait for your little naughty self" He answers calmly, noticing how you held him tighter at the reminder of the night, smiling to himself as he carries you to the shower, opting to make this fast, so no bath tonight.

He let's you down on the bathroom counter, gentle as always. Then he unclaps your bra, kissing your forehead as your head lolls a bit tiredly, in a drunken haze. He pulls off your white panties, leaving them to the side as he takes you again, bringing you to the shower as he makes a quick work of his sweatpants, chuckling at the way you eye him up. He hadn't wore his boxers, earlier going to bed butt naked to you, as he mostly preferred.

And the shower goes quietly, with both of you washing your hair. Miguel holds you up a bit so you don't slip or fall, looking at the way the water cascades down your figure, admiring how innocent you always looked when trying to take care of him.

Halfway through he pushes you on the bathroom ledge, taking your loofah and scrubbing you gently, standing on one knee as he works on your legs and tiny feet. And as you look at him with a shy, curious smile, he takes your feet and kisses up them to your knees, holding eye contact with you, basking at the blush that creeps up to your face.

He loves how soft you are for him, how you let him do as he pleases, just because he wants to, because you trust him. And he wants to mend what's broken, to show you you don't need to sneak around him, you don't need to hide from him. So he sits up between you legs, wrapping his arms around the back of your hips, bringing you close as he lips latch in you chest, humming in appreciation as your breath hitches.

Tiny hands come to his hair, at first shy, sweet, but he has taught you well and soon they fist his hair a bit harder, pulling a bit harsher and he means in the feeling, not scared to show you what feels good.

His other hand plays with the nipple of your lonely breast, massaging, fondling, taking in your softness as he literally suckles on you, always a bit possessive in the way he loved. You let out a haply sound, back arching into him as he smiles, lightly bitting at your nipple, fangs showing hungrily as he feels you tense.

"My little girl, always so eager to prove herself" He whispers lowly, pulling your ass to the edge as he kisses softly at your breasts, playing with them for a bit, making you squirm as he looks at the way the flesh molds for him. He licks between the valley of them, tongue sinking to your abdomen, then back up as he shows you just want he's thinking.

You bite your lip in anticipation, his hands grabbing your hips tightly, angling your body so your heat was infront of him, easy to reach. And he kisses at your inner tighs, bitting gently, leaving tiny scratches with his fangs as he doesn't pull his eyes away from your flushed face, taking in every reaction.

"You're going to be the death of me, cariño... You don't know what a man would do for just a taste of the heaven between your legs, for a second in your gentle arms"

And he doesn't wait for an answer, sinking in your heat, feeling your muscles tense instantly, pulling at his hair as he growls. His lips latch on your sweet clit, sucking hungrily, not wanting to waste time in being gentle, yet not rough at all. And he sucks harshly, moaning, tongue darting to your centre, teasing your need as he looks up, lips parted, showing you just how his tongue worked on you as you tried to stiffle a pathetic whimper at the sight alone.

"Look at you, so fucking sweet, so easy to break. What will I do with you, you little thing..." He whispers lowly, voice hoarse as his lips work on your clit, flicking and sucking, keeping a steady tempo as your legs wrap around his shoulders, keeping him in place. You arch your back, needing to grind into him, little hungry sounds falling from your lips, so high and adorable they light his blood on fire.

His right hand leaves your hip, coming under his chin, a skilled, thick finger teasing your entrance before it slowly sinks in, staying for a moment as he basks in the way you flutter around him, the way you try to move your hips to feel more of him.

But he doesn't want to keep you waiting, feeling generous tonight, he adds a second finger, scissoring you for a couple of seconds as he laps at your clit, flicking his tongue. You whine like a cat in heat, pulling him closer by his curls and he obliges, twisting his fingers so he feels that spongy spot higher, under where his tongue worked, and he starts a slow pace, before he let's it fall steadily faster and faster, abusing your tight hole, moaning against you as your whimpers grow higher, needier.

"Just like that, doll. Let me hear all of it. Love it when you squirm for me.." He purrs against you, making love to your heat as he continues looking at you. And it wasn't as much his fingers or tongue, what made your abdomen blossom with need was that gaze, that steady, hungry need in him to make you his own, this dark, hoarse tone, that could make you believe anything he said.

You nod your head pathetically, just wanting to please him as he pleased you, to be his good little girl, let go for a second and forget all about the world outside, forget about all the worries and stress and for a moment be his, completely his.

"Wanna cum for me, you needy thing? Wanna let me taste you as you cum, huh? Go on, sweetheart. Don't think about anything. I'm here, I'll hold you"

You whine like a kitten, your sounds starting to fall with the pace of his fingers that steadily grows faster and faster, fisting at his curls as your abdomen flexes.

"Yeah, just like that, baby. Let go for me, princess, wanna see you go dumb on my fingers"

You bite your lips, closing your eyes as you focus on the feeling, legs locking around his head as you hold him like a vice, hips pushing at his face, riding him as you feel the coil tighten.

"Miguel..." You whine his name and he moans at your heat, lapping like a man starved, switching the pace to a faster, more brutal one, knowing you can take it.

Your mouth falls open, a plethora of dity sounds bubbling as you get wetter, grow needier, making his job so much easier.

"Fuck, I love the sound you make, cariño. Can make me do anything just to hear them again" He murmurs, latching on your clit again, managing to flick at it with the same pace his fingers abused your little hole. Your head falls back as a broken whimper escapes your troath. And your hips tense, having a mind of their own as they tirelessly start grinding, meeting his movements perfectly and Miguel growls against you.

"Cum for me, baby. Make me proud"

You nod erratically, tethering on the edge as his words ring in your tipsy mind.

"Wanna make you proud - wanna make you proud, Papi"

The name slips without meaning to. And in other circumstances he would cringe, or be somewhat unsure. But you didn't say "daddy". You said "Papi". Which in a way in his language feels far more normal, far more fitting.

He chuckles darkly against you, not stopping his ministrations, watching you as you open your eyes to look at him, whimpering like a kicked dog, taught to always look at him as you came.

Your hips stutter, losing rithm, yet his hand keeps on working on you as your whole body trembles, mouth freezing half-way through a broken scream. And you tense so much, so harshly you lose your breath, only able to feel. There were no thoughts left, no needs or worries, just a hot wave that washed over your whole body, buzzing to the tips of your shaking legs. And the heat pooled right back in your abdomen, sinking lower where his tongue flicked so fast you lost feeling of the earth beneath you.

It was beautiful really, the way you just froze, as if pushing an enormous weight, his hungry knowing gaze prolonging that tethering till like a bottle, something popped in you, painfully, yet so blissfully squirting in a little, hot stream.

Miguel let's out the dirtiest sound you've heard him make till now, not stopping even for a second as he takes all that you give him. And your eyes cross, lips tremble, as you fist so hard at his hair you must've pulled some hairs from the roots.

"There we go... there we fucking go..."

He finally latches off you, looking at the way you let it all out for him, his fingers gradually slowing down as your whole body trembles, hunched over. And with every little stream he leaves a little kiss at your heat, enamored by the way your body craved him so much it was ready to break apart from the smallest touch.

He let's you ride out your high, your body finally leaning back against the wall, mouth still open as you barely take in shallow breaths. And he slowly removes his fingers, cleaning them off with his tongue as he stands before you. His hand gently pulls your lost, hazy gaze to look up at him, his wolfish smile making your insides twitch.

"What was that about "Papi"?"

[psychelis-new]

pick a pile: "Your soulmate's light and dark"

take a breath and choose the photo/number that calls you the most to read about what may be the "good" and "bad" sides of your soulmate: remember a soulmate can be either romantic or platonic (it's part of our soulmate family). I will let the message open to any type of soulmate also cause not everyone wants a romantic partner now.

As you can see from the pics, the reading is divided in two parts: if you feell called by the light side of one pile and the dark side of another, it's obviously fine. Sometimes lights aspect may mix up with dark ones and vice versa: it's fine. Nobody's here to judge what is really light or dark in everyone's life. Thanks to the 2 Anons who suggested this topic.

don’t take the reading too seriously. only take what resonates with you and leave the rest. if you're not called by any pile, let this reading slid as it may not hold messages for you. if you're called by more than one, there may be messages in each of those piles. remember that is a general reading and some things may not resonate with you. energies can change and readings are based on present ones (as you read); you're always in charge of your life.

(photos found on unsplash)

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1 2 3 4 top part/colored pics : light sides bottom part/bnw pics : dark sides - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 1

--light--

Someone good with words and communication, very talented in what they do. Someone that may be rich, not just with money but also in experiences. Someone into magic or that has magical abilities (or perceived so). A joyful optimistic, open, ambitious, spiritual, not too corrupted by the harsh world, and healing for you. Your connection may bring healing to both of you. Balanced, may also be doing two jobs. Very giving to those they like/love, the classic "helping hand". May also be an healer as a job (also through communication). They may be healing some dark aspects of them too atm. Physical in their displays of affections (loves hugging).

song: quiver | lonas

--dark--

A "shield hard to break": might not be easy to get closer to them, not much physically but emotionally. May have had not positive past experiences or fear being played with; once they trust you though, nothing can break that trust (unless you do something stupid which ofc would make them show you a different side of them: I think may have problems with anger, at times). Kinda possessive/jealous of their partner and friends/family. Likes to take care of you/them and go beyond in order to do that (meaning they may second guess themselves, at least on occasions). [18+ MESSAGE: may be a dom and like to tie you or ordering you]

song: the boy is mine | brandy and monica

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pile 2

--light--

I keep hearing "simplicity is the key". Might not appear or stand out physically, but hides loads of amazing and different traits in their character. Sophisticated, empathic, harmonious, likes to be one of the many out in the world, but appreciate everytime someone (and in particular you/their family/friends) remind them of how much important they are. Wise, smart, into books, a philanthropist. Might be donating a lot to charity. The person you'd go to for advices. Has continuosly transformed, grown and adapted through their life. Might be popular, even just in their field or city.

song: the fabulous emancipation of one harley quinn | daniel pemberton

--dark--

Too kind for the world, too sweet, too easily hurt. Too giving. Still needs to work on boundaries and self esteem/worth. Tendencies to people please, feeling neglected and abandoned on occasions. Still needs to work on some of their traumas, despite how much they've already done. Might fear running out of time and gets anxious. Needs someone to ground them and remind them it's fine to not know and to be patient and hopeful. To not be scared. Might have fear of commitment/intimacy, and not realize when it's time to take a step back and see how much they've done. They want to do more constantly. They need to do better. Never satisfied. Always searching for something else, and for someone that needs them/their help. Needs to learn how to take care of/show up for themselves.

song: song of the sea | lisa hannigan

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pile 3

--light--

This person is light. And love. Bright, optimistic, happy, a warm ray of sunshine. Ofc they have some issues too, but when they're around others, they try to be as positive and encouraging as possible. They want to see people succeed. And applaude them. They are a gift from heaven to everyone they encounter. People may randomly start speaking with them, confessing stuff to them e.g. when on a train or in line at the grocery shop. They make people feel understood and never judged. Very welcoming, accepting and kind energy. Tend to not see immediately when they're being deceived, may be a bit naive.

song: if you love me | brownstone

--dark--

Nobody/not many know this cause they rarely speak about their darkest side, but they've been through hell and back. They've been in the mud, they navigated the darkest waters but still managed to came out so pure and kind as nothing happened. Only at their core they know and remember every little step of those trips (and sometimes they may still feel that deep hurt). They have known hate, judgment, abandonment, neglect... maybe even more. They stayed strong through all that, through all the physical and mental struggles. It doesn't matter if others aren't aware of this trait and tend to judge them easily as a "lucky one". They want to save others from experiencing the same hell, and for this reason they try to be this bright kind person everytime they can. They didn't let pain change them.

song: fade away | lucky daye

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pile 4

--light--

A little bright pure star. Someone who likes to be at the center of attention, doesn't mind that. Might be popular online/make public speeches. May like to be different or results different in their environment (clothing/style, physical features...). Healing eyes/smile. May help those around them to change perspective, to see how beauty is hidden in the darkest places. May have scars or some other particular feature/medical aspect, and not mind showing them and how well you can live even while being "imperfect". They may nurture everyone's fears, trying to help them balance their mind and emotions also by being an example/guide (for some). Someone everybody can learn a lot from. They "change the game" (and mentality) of people. Strong minded. They use their differences (whatever those are) as a way to stand out from the crowd. Not as something to be afraid but to be proud of. Leader.

song: wanna be on your mind | valerie june

--dark--

Might have slightly manipulative behaviour occasionally, in particular when triggered. May fear not making it, not having done enough, not being able to do enough. Might fear to be forgotten by their dear ones in particular. Despite not regretting being different, secretly wants to be as anyone else especially when triggered (our emotional immaturity comes out when we're triggered). Needs time outs to get away from those moments (especially in nature/meditating). Constantly fighting with their mind and emotions to keep a balance, may experience outburst of anger and powerlessness/unworthiness. Might try to isolate themselves, not to hurt others. A bit of self sabotage and impostor syndrome. Might find their self validation in others.

song: under my skin | claudia kane

[aspecmemesdaily]

bro weird stuff has been happening to me lately. so I’ve known I was ace for a year now and that’s still going strong but also I never like. thought about romance like other girls did and never thought about a wedding. I never want a boyfriend and the idea of getting married scares me. and I wanted kids but I thought babies were ugly, and never thought about who their dad would be or anything. but like over the last year I

Really love babies and little kids, and now am miraculously really good with kids. I changed my major to education and finally found my calling (elementary librarian)

when I watched the pilot of fallout and I saw her wedding dress (I love that style soooo much) something clicked in my head and suddenly I started making little plans for my future wedding

it’s still hard for me to imagine a specific person as my husband but I realized I want that best friend for life thing. (my brother and his wife were kind of the turning point on this one because they just have so much fun and love each other so much. I realized it’s a different love than what I’d ever wanted before and now I really want that for myself?!?)

I still don’t really want to date anyone but I am feeling more open because the idea of finding someone who I love is just so exciting to me nowadays.

this is just all weird for me because my lack of interest in these things were a big part in what convinced me to look into asexuality and aromanticism and It’s so weird to lose that aspect of it but still feel no sexual attraction. I’m still me, but I’m growing into another version of myself and it’s so strange but wonderful and scary. idk growing older is weird when big opinions and feelings shift from what they’ve always been.

Thank you for sharing this, @jack1701.

I cannot give you a definite answer as your experiences and feelings are unique and only you can label yourself or choose not to label yourself at all. You don't have to fit into a specific box and I am not in a position to assign you a certain label, but I'd like to mention a few things that you might want to take into closer consideration if you so desire (The following points are just my opinion and may not be accurate!):

QPRs: Queerplatonic relationships are relationships that go "beyond" traditional notions of friendship, but don’t necessarily fit into the category of a typical romantic relationship. They can be a way to have that deep, lifelong partnership you’re envisioning without the pressure to conform to conventional romantic or sexual expectations. QPRs are quite common for partnering aspec people to be in. There is no set definition for a QPR and its boundaries—you and your queerplatonic partner (QPP) decide individually what you want to do or not do (e.g. hug, cuddle, kiss, live together, raise a child, pay taxes, idk??) and what you want to call each other (e.g. partner, friend, boyfriend/girlfriend, idiot, shnookums??, whatever...), etc.

Cupioromantic: This label falls under the aromantic umbrella and typically describes someone who experiences little to no romantic attraction, but still desires a romantic relationship (regardless of whether they are in one, aspire to be in one, or not).

Aegoromantic: This label also falls under the aromantic umbrella and typically describes someone who enjoys the idea of romance or romantic fantasies but doesn’t desire a romantic relationship for themselves. You may think of it as a disconnection between oneself and one's romantic fantasies. It's explained quite well here, I think.

Other arospec identities such as demiromantic (only experiencing romantic attraction after a deep emotional connection has been developed) or greyromantic/grayromantic (experiencing romantic attraction rarely or only under specific circumstances).

But you don't have to label yourself just now or ever, and no label is permanent. Just keep being yourself and do what feels good for you.

All the best!

[skinnypaleangryperson]

Things Rick canonically does with the person he's in love with:

1) Get stuck in a trance while endearingly and lovingly looking after his family and the person he loves and trailing along right after.

2) Hod back his partner's hair when they're vomiting and have drank too much, holds them after.

3) Does the most humble and romantic, authentic things like sit on the side of a bench wall engaging in small talk and each other and enjoying nature. When you remember the kind of creatures and species that he could associate himself with, this is only even more endearing. When you consider what he could accomplish as a person if you wanted to considering what he's capable of, this is even more humbling. He literally chooses to spend his time like this, despite the fact that he could literally basically be living as a narcissistic controlling God if he wanted to.

4) Bringing out his cocky jaded on the edge side despite how humble and sweet and salty he can be and engaging in witty banter and still being an insane impulsive drunk. Diane is perfect for him evidently, which isn't surprising considering the spaceship thing!

5) Ro the most over the top extravagant things like create an entire robot in the period of only a couple of hours over something as small as a little mistalk between his partner. And this one especially melted me-can you imagine the amount of time and effort and concentration even with his intelligence it took just to make his partner a simple dancing robot just to apologize after something that most people would just forget about the second that it happened?

He really does give the entire world to his partner almost to a tragic degree and that's part of the reason why how much he loves Diane and her fate is so heartbreaking-not because of the fact necessarily that she died in and of itself but because of the fact that Rick is the kind of lover that will give everything down to the core and pretty much almost instantly the second they're back in his life even after decades, the same way that he did with Birdperson. That kind of heart only exists in fairy tales-and now apparently also adult swim cartoons.

6) Reaching out across the table and a little bit awkwardly but ultimately incredibly sure in his intentions and feelings and taking the hands of his partner and pretty much instantly being upfront about how he feels. I could sense that he was nervous what just saying a lot for someone like him and he pulled it off well, but he wasn't entirely sure about himself.

7) Getting dressed up sharply and taking his partner out to dinner-literally no matter what the circumstances are in terms of his health, including death.

I always knew that Rick was an overdramatic melodramatic, overly sensitive and incapable of healing trauma queen in a lot of ways (I say this endearingly because I am as well and that's part of the reason why I'm so attached to him as a character) but this really solidified that he will go above and beyond for his partner literally no matter what occurs or what that means or requires from him. It's almost tragic, just for the fact that he wears his heart honestly and gives so much in and of itself.