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#i think i can expect some communication!!
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Easy To Be The Favourites - LN
Request from @steadytacowitch - can u write about lando and y/n being the it couple and a Tik tok complication of them plssss.i love ur writing so much <333
No part 2 requests please
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Lando wouldn't say he was unattractive or unappealing before he met y/n. But the boyfriend effect was certainly working it's magic and he would put it all down to y/n's presence and influence.
She's quite an unbothered person who has fun and only cares about the opinions of people she knows. But has also be enjoying the fans love for her and Lando's relationship. Especially when they give her credit for making Lando have a bit of a glow up and just a general glow about him since he started dating y/n.
The two do get hate both individually and collectively, as to be expected, but generally they are loved as a couple and document everything with each other. Lando even came close to making a joint account just so he could make daily posts of his girlfriend.
"Baby." Lando whispers capturing the moment of her doing her lip liner and zooming in on her as she looks at him through the reflection then turning to face him quickly while he grins at her. "You look so pretty."
"Shut up. Weirdo." Y/n jokes since she does bully Lando a little. She really can't accept a compliment to save her life, like most British people.
"See guys, y/n loves me so much." Lando states flipping the camera to capture himself.
He posts the moment knowing that it'll be in yet another video that is somewhat viral within the F1 community. There's actually almost a war of y/n and Lando vs Alex and Lily of who wins as the couple goals.
Y/n always insists they have the edge. But really she isn't bothered because she only cares about Lando.
-
Walking into the paddock together is certainly something that has became a moment that McLaren social media team have made a habit of wanting to capture every single time.
Today Lando decides to mix it up, dropping y/n's hand which makes her turn and almost look hurt before he quickly makes a gesture with his hands. Forcing her to be the centre of the camera lens and she catches on, instead doing a bit of a power walk before shaking her head and laughing.
"Come on, I can't have a moment without you." Y/n laughs and the McLaren team they've just captured pure gold. Not that they should be so focused on Lando's relationship rather than his on track performance.
But fans love seeing the two and not delivering that to them is almost an insult.
"Sorry, baby." Lando laughs as he relinks their hands and continues walking.
-
Lando has caught y/n on camera several times watching edits of them. He's even caught her saving them when she is especially impressed or thinks it's a cute moment that she wants to keep for herself. There's also been moments he's caught her watching and then moved to show him the videos only to realise that Lando is recording her.
There's whole compilations just of those exact moments.
She's reposted some of them on her stories.
"Lan, look at this one." Y/n gasps as they sit for lunch out in the sun. Her phone being handed over to him to show him another fan edit. "You're soooo cute. Aww..."
There's no doubt in Lando's mind, though some of his fans might argue it, but y/n is his number 1 fan. She has yet to miss a single race weekend since they started dating, they met through her being a fan of the sport and fans have seen the evidence she was a fan of his before she started dating him.
Pictures of her attending races and even just in her pre-Lando posts online, she had his merchandise that she wore shamelessly.
"We are a bit of an IT couple." Y/n comments absently making Lando smirk since he has said it for months now and y/n was always hesitant to give himself the label.
"We are definitely an IT couple, y/n." Lando smiles while catching his own LN4 admin catching the moment. No doubt it will be posted later since they also like to capture Lando and y/n's relationship nonstop.
-
Y/n does lives when she's getting ready, sometimes she live streams when she's doing random stuff. She once live streamed cleaning the apartment while Lando was over in Woking for a couple days.
"Ok, guys. I promise Lando is going to learn to make one meal. I'm teaching him to make a meal." Y/n states setting up her phone while Lando stands half in frame waving at the live as more and more people join. "Babe, what we making?"
"Tacos. Y/n is in the mood for tacos so we're making tacos." Lando grins moving to hug her, kissing her cheek as he does.
Y/n is busy reading the chat.
"No. Don't worry he's not handling knives. He's in charge of grating cheese and maybe I'll put him in charge of cooking the mince." Y/n smiles while Lando pulls a very much offended expression. "Sorry, baby."
Lando doesn't comment instead just grumbling a little before they start cooking.
The camera is positioned to sort of capture as much of the kitchen and their movement. Most of which ends up being Lando "helping" some of the time but most of the time he's doing anything to hug y/n or get her attention. Often managing to steal kisses and then get little bites of food from her. But the moments when he asks for her help and guidance in cooking his part of the meal.
"Hey, guys. How many of you are already plotting edits for this?" Lando asks when y/n disappears to the bathroom. "Tag y/n in all of them, she loves seeing you guys make videos of us. She spends hours watching them. But don't tell her I told you guys that-don't include this in the edits."
Obviously he already knows that request just means it is absolutely going to mean he's it's going to be exactly what is at the beginning of every edit that they make of the whole livestream which has pretty much fed fans a whole meal of couple content from them.
Taglist: @namgification @hiireadstuff @jsjcue @geniusalpaca @itsjustkhaos @llando4norris @partyinpitlane @lpab @xoscar03 @harrysdimple05 @mellowarcadefun @cixrosie @scopeiguess @racingheartsposts @c-losur3
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kiefbowl · 22 hours
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I was reading an opinion piece on Kate Middleton's cancer diagnosis on CNN by Jamal Baig about the increasing rates of cancer in patients under 50. As far as 5 minutes of googling and JSTORing can lend me to believe, there's nothing illegitimate about Dr. Baig. However, I found this bit in his opinion interesting:
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Now, I'm always dubious when reading anything that attributes a very broad generalized idea that changes in diets have caused an increased in cancer, because more often than not it's not pointing to an exploration of, say, increased pesticide use, but the author's personal bias against the quote unquote "unhealthy", especially those who are deemed "fat" by the medical industry.
That being said, I was curious what source he linked, half expecting it to lead to just another op-ed from some other doctor from who knows when, but I was pleasantly surprised! Written by a man named Michael Donaldson, it was an evidentiary review published in a scientific journal called "Nutrition and cancer: A review of the evidence for an anti-cancer diet."
Now I wasn't going to give the whole thing a read, but I stopped in each section, gave a quick skim to get a general vibe, moved on to the next section, etc. I was immediately suspicious that the very first line in the abstract was "It has been estimated that 30–40 percent of all cancers can be prevented by lifestyle and dietary measures alone" as that seems to be a bananas statistic to just posit, but it still had the air of scientific integrity, so I did my skim.
The first handful of sections had things that gave me some moments of pause, that this article was in fact another doctor simply cherry picking data to confirm his own biases, but nothing so egregious as to do a spit take. That comes in a few minutes. The first section that made really go hold the phone was when we got to his Flax Seed section.
Compare how he writes about Red Meat...:
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(that's all he wrote, btw)
...with how he starts writing about Flax Seed:
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Did I just enter a Flax Seed commercial? Does this guy work for BIG FLAX SEED? on and on he writes about Flax Seed, and I start getting a sense that perhaps this man has a Flax Seed Agenda. In any case, he eventually moves on and I quickly skim to get to the end (because it's boring among other things).
So, who exactly is Michael Donaldson?
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Girl are you kidding me
The Hallelujah Acres Foundation is a FOR PROFIT company that sells a """biblical""" based diet program called the hallelujah diet and also sells supplements on said site.
Now, in case you forgot where I started with this, this was the link provided as a "source" to a legitimate doctor's claim in an op-ed about cancer that "at least part of the answer" of why cancer is increasing in under 50 patients are the "changes to nutrition and lifestyle that took hold in middle of the last century." Dr. Baig did not read this article, or if he did was not concerned that it was written by the employee of a company that profits from unscientific research it uses to sell supplements and diets. Which is worse, I don't know.
The point I'm making is that you absolutely need to be vigilant all the time. You need to understand that doctors can not only have biases, but agendas. Researchers can have biases and agendas. Scientists can have biases and agendas. And that magical thinking about real health issues that can affect your future can permeate the scientific community because weirdos write convincing enough evidence that support their already determined world view.
This kind of shit is the reason why women go into doctor offices complaining about pain in their abdomen and get told to go lose weight and come back in 6 months. This is why ideas like moralizing eating have huge effects on women's health and influence medical misogyny, and why it's a feminist issue.
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bitchy-craft · 11 hours
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PICK A CARD: What they want to say to you
Hello and welcome to this new post of mine! I will give you a reading on what certain people want to say to you even though they’re afraid to do so for whatever reason. I hope you guys enjoy and find this interesting.
Masterpost > Paid Readings
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~pick a card~
Pile 1:
This message to you is from a parental figure with a masculine energy. They want you to know that they’re incredibly proud of you and that they see how much you’ve progressed over the years, how much you’ve grown and how much you’ve endured. They want you to know that they think you’re incredibly strong and that they look up to you due to how well you’ve been keeping your head high in difficult situations.
This parental figure wants to apologise to you as well; they are aware they aren’t the best at communication, at making clear what it is they feel and what it is they think of you. They also hope you can forgive them for all the faults they’ve made over the years, and some hope you’ll be able to give them a second chance.
Pile 2:
This is a message to you from a younger person with feminine energy, for most of you this being a sibling. They want you to know they look up to you and that you’re really cool and a super hero as well. They want to thank you for all it is that you’ve done for them, and that they hope you’ll continue to spend time with them even if the communication lessens a bit over time.
They love seeing you happy and wish to continue seeing you happy; you deserve to be happy because you’ve made them happy countless of times before. They are proud to know you and be connected to you; they even speak fondly of you to their friends sometimes because they look up to you so much.
Pile 3:
This message is from an animal (didn’t expect an animal to come by). Keep in mind that you don’t need to have a pet to be able to resonate with this message; there are animals all around us, and many of them will have seen you a lot of times even if you haven’t paid attention to them before.
This animal wants you to know that they see and notice you having difficult moments, that you’re hurting and sometimes feel hopeless in all it is you need to do, what is expected from you and how you feel. They want you to know that you’re allowed to cry, allowed to pity yourself, especially if you don’t believe you have it hard enough to feel that wat. That everything will be okay and that you’ll eventually find your way through life, just like they did. You will be free and have fun eventually, and that you must not give up to finally feel all what life is about.
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gigglyapples · 2 days
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New Discoveries
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This fic is dedicated to @hype-blue-fixation and @squishyimps for all of their AMAZING audios and contributions to our little community! 🥳
I’ve used a few lines here and there from some of their audios as little easter eggs!
Now feast my little minnows! *yeets fic at you and runs away*
Also, sorry I haven’t been very active! Exams have been beating me up in the alleyway.
Lee!Alastor
Ler!Rosie
Warnings: Tickles/Super fluffy!
It has been a long day for Alastor. He’s only been in Hell for a couple of weeks and was still getting used to everything down here. Sure, there were parts he was admittedly fond of. The violence, the misery, the suffering… It was all a pleasure to witness. However, there were definitely parts of his new undead life he was still getting used to.
His deer form in particular was an odd one. Rather ironic actually… A mass killer on earth is never caught, but accidentally killed by a Hunter while walking home… way to rub it in Hell.
Though Al would never admit it, he was quite disoriented when he first arrived in Hell. Fortunately he picked up on the rules and games of this cursed place rather quickly. Using his cunning and manipulative tactics to get ahead, he was already well on his way to being a powerful overlord. And power of course was a big box to check off his list.
For the most part Alastor has kept to himself, defaulting to his instincts and staying out of the crowds, though, there was one person he’s met that he has grown quite fond of. A cannibal overlord named Rosie, originally he simply wanted to get close to her for the kill. She was simply another soul for him to own. However, Rosie was quick to catch on to his little scheme and made it known. Sure he was a murderer, a sociopath and maniac… but he had standards, so when Rosie made it clear she was had knowledge... He and Rosie’s respect for one another quickly grew into something some might even call, a friendship… both of them having somewhat of an unspoken truce between them.
Alastor had to admit, Rosie was quite like his dear mother, perhaps that is why he has such respect for her… Rosie’s husband on the other hand…. Not so much… Currently Alastor was puttering in Rosie’s living room, waiting for his dear friend to return with tea. They had quickly began a weekly ritual of gossip and sharing hearsay of easy to manipulate souls prime for the picking.
Alastor hummed observing himself in the mirror. He stared at his deer like features as he reached up to flick one of his ears in curiosity.
“Hmmm… curiouse…” He pondered.
“What is curiouse my friend?” Came Rosie’s voice as she entered the room a tea tray in hand.
“Oh! Nothing my dear.” Al responded turning to face the woman his eternal grin never faltering.
“Hehe, if ya spend all your time admirin’ yourself in the mirror, the other overlords are gonna catch up my friend.” Rosie teased sitting down on the couch pouring herself and Alastor a cup.
“Oho please my dear, do you really think so little of me?” Alastor asked, his smile growing wider as he went and joined her on the couch.
“Of course not, I just know how easy it is to slip outta line around here. Gotta keep up.” She smiled as she looked at her friend before taking a dainty sip of her tea. When the usually chatty demon didn’t respond she strained her eyes to look at her friend. She had only known him for a little over a month, but Rosie was a clever woman, she could read people like a book, Alastor included. Something that honestly unnerved the Radio Demon.
She observed her friend as he looked down at his cup deep in thought… in spite of his eternal smile… he looked… troubled.
“Whats on your mind Al?” Rosie asked. Alastor physically flinched a little at the question, clearly not expecting it. He cleared his throat. “Why, whatever do you mean Rosie? I am just chipper.” He chuckled leaning back into the couch.
“Oh come now Alastor, I can tell you’re lying right through your teeth!” She giggled at her pun placing her tea cup down on the coffee table.. “Come come, tell Auntie Rosie whats troublin’ ya…” Rosie smiled gently placcing a hand on his arm
“It does not concern you my dear, do not worry yourself.” Alastor reassured placing his cup down as well.
“Nonono, none of that, you are my guest, and partner in crime! I insist.” Rosie smiled.
Alastor thought for a moment. He knew Rosie wouldn’t let this go, she was a stubborn lady…
“Alright, but this stays between you and I.” Alastor warned.
“Of course Deary! Now, spill! spill!” Rosie giggled guiding him down to rest his head on her lap, something Al surprisingly didn’t object to.
“I am simply still adjusting to my new hmmm features…” Alastor began trying to find the right words.
“Oh! You mean like your adorable little deer features?” Rosie giggled in a teasing tone, making Al’s ears flatten in slight irritation as he looked up at her.
“Yes… that… I am discovering new aspects of this demon form almost daily, some that are certainly interesting…” Alastor admitted twitching his ear.
“Well, I for one find these wittle ears quite endearing!” Rosie giggled before starting to gently pet Al’s head and ears. Alastor stiffened under her touch. He hadn’t let anyone touch his ears yet. It did not feel how he expected… a shiver ran up the demon’s spine.
“Ah! U-Uhm… Rohosie what prey tell are you…?” Alastor stuttered as he felt her nails gently scratch and glide through his hair.
“I’m pettin’ ya silly. Feels nice doesn’t it?” She asked with a knowing smirk as her nails raked up and down against the base of the demon’s ears.
“Hng! R-Rosie- that is quite…”
“Aw, come now Al, don’t tell me you ain’t enjoyin’ this even a little…” Rosie smiled down at the younger demon.
“I’ve lived here long enough to know how these things work my friend.” Rosie snickered, scritching behind Al’s ears. Alastor whimpered slightly as the sensation grew more intense. Rosie watched as he began squirming on the couch his toothy grin growing wobbly.
“R-Rohosie… please, I am nohot- I am not a pehet!” Alastor giggled his ears twitching away from the woman’s touch as he gently thwapped at her hands, not even realizing he let a chuckle slip. Rosie gasped in sheer delight at his reaction.
“Oh Alastor sweetie! How come ya never told me!?” Rosie giggled cupping her cheeks with her hands. Alastor raised a brow at her.
“Hm?… Told you what?” He asked.
“That your ticklish of course!” Rosie teased. Alastor’s cheeks tinted pink as his eyes widened for a moment before he recollected himself.
“Oh please Rosie, do not be absurd! What on earth gave you such a ludicrous idea?” Al denied looking up at the woman, but Rosie noticed how Al’s eyes instantly locked onto her hands. Rosie smiled down at her friend, the blush tinting his cheeks was all the information she needed.
“Hmmm, I don’t know Al… you were bein’ awfully giggly a second ago…” Rosie stated making a claw with her hand as it loomed towards Al’s sensitive ears. He quickly reached up and grabbed her hand before it made contact as the two demons locked eyes.
“N-Now now Rohosie… ” Alastor gasped as Rosie used her other hand making the deer demon yelp as the ticklish fingers returned to their previous location.
“Ha! You’re gigglin’ and I’ve barely even touchin’ ya’! Thats just the cutest thing!” Rosie teased her voice full of endearment for the demon.
“B-Behe quihihiet! Ihit is not!” Alastor giggled tossing his head back and forth in attempts remove the woman’s tickly fingers. Rosie quickly noticed how Alastor hadn’t really made any real effort to move away from her… he could easily make this stop, but for some reason he wasn’t…
“Heh, I’m not the one gigglin up a storm here, Al.” Rosie snickered fluttering her fingers on the inside of his ear now.
“R-Rosie! Rohosie!” Alastor squeaked through his quiet giggling.
“Hm? Aw whats the matter Al? Are these little ears a bit sensitive?” Rosie smiled
“I-IhI’m going to hahave to bite yohou!” Alastor threatened opening an eye to glare at her.
“Oh! Well we can’t have that now can we? Better move to a different spot…” She replied in a mischievous tone, suddenly darting her free hand under his raised arm. Alastor screeched and began kicking his legs as she poked and squeezed at the sensitive skin underneath the fabric.
“Rohohosie nohoho!! Oho stahars!” Al screeched with his own hand still holding hers he quickly pulled his arm down trapping her hand
“Alastor… you’ve trapped my hand. How am I supposed to tickle ya if your arm is stoppin’ me?” She smirked not fully stopping her tickle attack on his upper ribs. Just ever so slightly wriggling them to keep the demon giggling.
“Y-Yohou and I… bohoth knohow thahat… is not true!” The Radio demon said through his giggles squirming under his friend’s fingers.
“Well… if you’re not going to let my hand free then I guess I’ll just have to stay here forever hm? How does that sound Al?…” Rosie teased and started pinching and squeezing the ribs under his arm. Alastor gasped and fell into another stream of frantic giggles and squeaks as Rosie began playfully poking and pinching the skin.
“R-Rohosie! Rosie Noho!”
“Hmmm say Al, if ya got ears and antlers like a deer… ya think ya got 13 pairs of ribs like a deer too?” Rosie smirked as Alastor eyed her with a questioning expression before realizing what she was implying.
“Nononono! R-Rohohosie plehease!” Al protested as she pulled her hand out from under his arm and wasted no time massaging little circles into his lowest rib.
“One…” Alastor screeched loudly, arching his spine and high pitched laughter escaped him. This was a game his mother would play with him often as a child, it never failed to make him cackle.
“Gyahaha! N-Noho! Rohosie!” The demon shrieked kicking and uselessly grabbing at the woman’s hands.
“Two… Three… Four- Alastor!” Rosie scolded when Al managed to grab her hands but he just kind of held them.
“Alastor sweetie, how am I supposed to count your ribs with you grabbin’ at my hands?” Rosie teased still pinching at his ribs.
“R-Rohohosie! Nohot- nohot there! Noho! Nohohoho!!” Alastor squeaked as her fingers moved higher up his ribcage.
“Hm? No what Al? I-“ What neither of them were expecting was a sudden unique high pitched deer like bleat to slip its way through Alastor’s giggles.
Rosie stopped her tickling fingers and looked down at the flustered demon under her with the biggest smile on her face, only making Al’s face grow into a darker shade of red.
“Oh. My. Stars! You fuckin’ Bleat! That is the most precious thing I have ever seen!” Rosie laughed going right back to that same spot to try and get that reaction again. Not a second later another bleat came from the Radio Demon.
“ROHOHOSIE *Bleat* NOHOHO! *Bleat*” Rosie noticed how much more frantic Al’s laughter had become suddenly due to his embarrassment.
“Awww whats the matter Al? Are you embarrassed? Don’t be shy sweetie, lets hear that adorable little noise one last time hm?” Rosie giggled. Alastor’s face could be compared to the color of his suite by this point. As he desperately tried to prevent whatever it was that was causing him to make such an embarrassing noise.
But despite The Radio Demon’s efforts the adorable sound came through again as Rosie’s fingers ventured down to his belly.
“ROHOHOSIE! *bleat* PLEHEHEHEASE! IHI CAHAHAN’T *bleat* CAN’T BREHEHEATH!” Al pleaded through his loud fit of laughter.
To his relief Rosie’s fingers finally stopped tickling and came to rest at her sides. Alastor laid there a flustered giggly mess as he tried to gain what little composure and pride he had left.
“Y-Yohou are… one evil woman…” Alastor lamented wiping a tear from his eye.
“Thank you! I do try.” Rosie smiled down at him gently scratching his scalp as he calmed down.
“Heheh! Have I ever told ya you’re adorable?” Rosie teased as Alastore relaxed into the touch.
“Ugh… Uhunfortunatley…” Al replied with a roll of his eyes. The two sat in silence as Alastor’s breathing returned to normal.
“So… feeling better?” Rosie asked making Alastor flinch and grumble.
“O-Oh hush you…. This event doesn’t leave this emporium…” Al grumbled his ears pinning back.
“Don’t you worry Al, you’re secrets safe with me, Sweetie.” Rosie smiled.
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Number Neighbors Pt.27
Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader
Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist
Word Count: 1.2k
Summary:  When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?
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Nat’s been more than exhausted these past few weeks as she drafts up argument after argument that she can use against the government to justify why she and her fellow Avengers shouldn't be put on a leash. She knows it’s a long shot and she doesn’t have enough witness accounts or evidence yet but she’s been hearing about the crime rate spike through the rumor mill and she hopes that soon enough she’ll have enough to come back.
She can bring her family back and finally have you. If you’ll still have her after all of this is over. She knows you’d have every right to be mad but she hopes you’ll understand enough to at least let her take you on one date.
The rain pelts outside of her window as it has been for the last three days and she sighs as she lies back on her pull-out bed. If it were under different circumstances she might’ve been able to appreciate the break from the city and the pressure. Maybe she could even come back to these woods with Clint, or Wanda, or…You.
She’s working hard to make sure her family is safe, yes, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t working this hard to also see you again. To finally know what it feels like to hold you, to run her fingers through your hair, and hear you laugh again. The thought of you has been the only thing that’s brought her comfort these past few weeks.
Her computer dings with an email and she shoots up immediately, grabbing the shiny object from the side table next to her and pulling it onto her lap. She wasn’t expecting any emails while she was out here and her mind jumped to the worst-case scenario: they’d found her location.
The email is from an unknown sender which only makes her more uneasy and she’s more frustrated than anything that she’ll have to find a new place to hide when she recognizes the encrypted link hidden in the email's coding.
It was a website Clint had created just for the two of them to communicate in case there was ever a situation similar to this. She’s afraid to admit just how comforting it was to hear from someone close to her after weeks of no contact. She quickly opens the website and reads the messages.
Clint-
Hey Natty, hope you’re having fun wherever you’ve parked that trailer of yours, Tony’s been a real pain in the butt but we’re trying to negotiate some better terms with some government officials. I know you’re probably working on a solution of your own but I’ve got to at least pretend like I contribute to this group-
She snorts at the self-jab, knowing her fellow Avenger couldn’t care less about the insults people say about him being the least skilled Avenger. She always admired that about him.
Clint-
Anyway, your phone’s been blowing up. I think Tony is getting suspicious so I took it and hid it in my room. I think you’re gonna be in deep shit with your girlfriend when you get back haha. 
I attached the voicemails you’ve been getting, I didn’t listen to them but I saw who they were from. Thought they might be important.  
Nat’s heart pounded as she stared at the attached files, there were at least 30 voicemails from you varying in different lengths and part of her was scared to open them. There was no doubt a few of them were just you yelling at her but even then she’d missed the sound of your voice so much that she’d take your irritation over anything else.
She hesitates over the first voicemail with her cursor but clicks it before she can sike herself out. There’s a little bit of silence and she wonders if you’re going to talk before she hears a small sniffle and her heart breaks. She swore to herself she’d never make you cry and now she’d failed, the sound of your quiet crying echoing throughout her trailer only amplifying her defeat.
It's another thirty seconds before your voice finally breaks through. It’s rough and raw and she can tell you’d probably been crying for a while.
“Nat? Where did you go? Why’d you leave? Listen- we don’t have to meet if you don’t want to. We can keep texting forever just don’t ghost me like this. Please.” It’s short and by how broken your last word sounded she can tell you were probably thrown into another fit of sobs after you ended the message. 
Nat doesn’t know what to do with herself, her body feels frozen and her heart won’t stop sinking further into her stomach. She’s never heard you sound so unsure of yourself before and it tears her apart that she’s the one who made you that way. It takes her a few minutes to muster up the courage to click on another one.
“What kind of person just says ‘I’m sorry?’ I deserve a better explanation than that! You couldn’t have at least lied to me about going to save baby animals in Africa where there’s no cell service? At least then when you stopped responding I could’ve felt better!” She’s not surprised that you’re mad at her, you deserve to be, but it doesn’t stop the guilt from gnawing at her chest when she hears how irked you are.
The next few are similar in the fact that they’re either angry or spoken through tears but they slowly begin transitioning into something else. Eventually, you stop talking about her leaving and start talking about yourself. What you did that day, what you’re making for dinner, the cat you’ve been visiting at the cat cafe. There’s still a hint of sadness in your tone but she can tell the calls are a form of therapy for you. A way for Nat to be there when she’s not really there.
She wants to be there. She wants to be the one you’re talking about your day with, wants to cook you dinner while you sit on the counter and visit the cat cafe with you. It hurts that she can’t do that and as she’s listening she feels her eyes burn with tears. She refuses to let them fall. She’s not the one who gets to cry in this scenario and yet her eyes refuse to give up their unshed tears.
There’s one last voicemail from a day ago and she clicks on it expecting it to be like the others but much to her surprise you’re talking about her again.
“I think I’m mad because I can’t even bring myself to hate you for it. I know you’ve probably got some shit going on. I understand that, trust me. But- I don't know you could’ve… maybe it’s too much of me to ask you to fill me in on the situation- or let me know when you’d be back… Is this goodbye?” 
 Your static voice rings out into the silence and Nat hates how you sound. Reserved- almost accepting. Like you’ve convinced yourself she’s never going to respond again and she hates it. She hates that she made you so insecure that you think she isn't spending every hour thinking of you and how to get back to you. 
The sound of your voice fills her with even more determination as she begins redrafting her court argument. She was going to come back to you, you just had to wait for her a little longer.
Pt.28
A/n: Aww Nat :( ~ Starry
---Taglist--
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sports-on-sundays · 3 days
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Okay I figured it out !!! what if y/n is a F1 driver and she’s really close with Charles or lando and is with either Pablo , Fermin , or pedri and they get jealous of how close y/n and Charles or lando are !! And they get into an argument before the Barcelona GP and y/n thinks they won’t be there to see them race but in the end they do go and see y/n get a home podium and they make up !!
surprises in Barcelona / Pedri González
Summary: Pedri x Spanish!F1 driver!girlfriend!reader - When Y/n is in a job in which she's surrounded by nineteen male, handsome hot shots nearly all near long, it's easy for her boyfriend to get a bit jealous.
Warnings: censored cuss, arguing in a relationship, screaming, communication cut off for a while
Requested?: Yes! <3
Author's Note: OMG I LOVE IT. It's kind of funny, because I have an OC much like the reader in this story, so to be honest, that's just what I imagined while writing this.
It all starts with a stupid, petty comment.
Pedri is to the point of practically begging you for some time together, since his schedule is free. But yours isn't. You tried to explain so many times that even though you're back home in Barcelona, and not in the UK, that doesn't mean you don't have work to do before the next race here in Barcelona.
Maybe you're being a bit harsh. Maybe you should sit down with your boyfriend and snuggle him a bit. Let him have you, just for a moment, just for a short break in both of your glittery sporting lives.
But if you were starting to change your mind at all, or feeling any sympathy in the slightest, it's suddenly squashed when that stupid comment comes out of his mouth.
"Yeah, I'm sure you've got a lot of work to do. Since you clearly care about your teammate more than your own boyfriend."
Your head snaps to look at him. "Excuse me? What teammate?"
His thick, dark eyebrows knit together as he comments, crossing his arms. "You know. Your teammate. The one you constantly talk about, and joke around with? You're practically flirting by now."
This is coming as a shocker to you. This is the first time Pedri's ever voiced thoughts such as these. But you clench your jaw. "I'm sorry, but I have no idea why you feel the need to bring Lando into this-"
"Because you're putting him over me! And your job! And your team!"
"No I'm not!" you snap, then taunt a bit, "Oh, is someone getting jealous?"
"I have the right to!" Pedri is starting to get angrier, and his body straightens more. "I see how you nudge him, and hug him after good performances-"
"Everyone does that! I'm not getting mad at you for hugging your teammates after a goal is scored, am I?"
"No, but that's different!"
"In what way? Just because I'm a woman?" your lip curls in annoyance. "So I'm not allowed to have sportsmanship and camaraderie with my team, just because of my gender? Just because my teammate is a man, and I'm a woman? Give me a f*cking break!"
Pedri stands up, his face reddening, and now his voice is raised as he snaps back, "It's not that! It's that you're doing all that, and not giving me any attention! You spend more time with Norris these days than you do with me!"
"It's because he's amongst me in my job! I can't really avoid him!"
"Maybe you should try separating your job from your personal life and show me some love for once! Give me back some of the energy I give to you!" he suddenly screams.
There's a few seconds of silence, but your heart feels cold as you respond, "So I'm not allowed to have friends, then? I have to give my everything to you, and only you? Well, at least Lando doesn't expect anything more from me than what I can give."
"Yeah, and that's because you're giving him so much! Why don't you consider me?"
"Why don't you consider me?" you suddenly yell, before slamming the door of his flat shut and leaving, your head spinning with irrational thoughts.
Lando isn't just your teammate. He's also your friend. And a good friend, at that. But you figure it's hard for anyone who really knows Lando not to like him.
Now he catches you in the McLaren garage, before the first practice session of the Barcelona Grand Prix weekend. It's been a week since the argument with Pedri, and over that week, your conscience has been killing you. You tried to text him twice, but didn't get a response, and you're too nervous to call, because you don't want to face the fact that he could just decide not to pick up.
But your heart and head are aching, and clearly it shows on your face, because suddenly you feel a friendly slap on your back as Lando says, "It's your home race weekend, Y/n. Look a bit more alive!"
You shrug and force a smile. "I know. Just got some things on my mind."
"Something bad happen?" he inquires, his eyebrow cocking up a bit.
"Not really," you shrug.
As if reading your mind, Lando asks, "Will your boyfriend be able to make it this weekend?"
This question makes your head swarm.
Will he? I mean, if he's ignoring me now, why would he bother to come to the Grand Prix?
Maybe he's too busy for me, like I was for him.
You swallow as you feel a pang of guilt deep in your chest.
"Uh, I don't know... I don't think so," you say, clearing your throat.
Lando continues looking at you expectantly with big eyes, as if thinking you're going to elaborate on that. But when you don't he says with a little frown, "Well, why not? He lives in Barcelona." Lando is, obviously, aware of which famous football player is your boyfriend.
You shrug a little. "It's a long story, to be honest. But I'm fine, Lando. Don't worry. Besides, I think the best thing right now is to just focus on racing, you know?"
Lando nods slowly, not seeming fully convinced, but says, "Alright, then. Whatever you think."
You nod as he gives you another reassuring slap on the back and walks on.
You sigh.
Just have to switch my brain off into racing mode. See all those Spanish fans cheering me on.
I've got all of McLaren, including Lando, backing me.
And I've got all of Spain, except for maybe Pedri González, my own boyfriend, backing me, too.
When you get into that car, it's like the world stops moving. In all three practices, and then in qualifying. There's no worrying about jealousy, relationships, or public image. All there is is you, the car, the speed, and the other cars you, ultimately, need to beat.
All there is is the wind, the throttle, the limits you're pushing to break past.
The speed.
It's why you love racing.
You finish qualifying in fourth, and when Lando sees you in the garage, he gives you a high five and a friendly half-hug before saying, "Starting 3-4 for the race. Good job."
You smile and nod. "Thanks. You know how it is, though." You can tell he's just trying to cheer you up. He's not actually this estatic about starting in third and fourth.
"Yeah, yeah," he nods, putting on his cap. "But, hey." He makes eye contact with you. "Maybe your boy will show up for the race, at least?"
You shrug, looking down and respond simply, "Maybe." You doubt it.
You're sure you'll make it up. The next time you see him, you'll fix everything. Apologize, and explain.
It just kind of sucks that this had to all go down right before one of the few races on the calendar that Pedri can actually make it to. Your home race.
Before the race, you text Pedri.
It's left on sent, just like the other two.
"What's got you in such a good mood?" you demand to Lando, who is basically walking around the paddock like a smug little contained jar of sunshine and rainbow, being cheeky because clearly he knows something no one else does.
You know the bratty look in his eyes.
He seems to find a ridiculous amount of pleasure in this question from you as he comments, his voice drawn out in a sing-song tone, "Nothing..."
You roll your eyes and tease, "What, some cute girl asked you out? Or, what, you heard Red Bull talking about some kind of terrible problem with their car? Or, what, you overheard the full and complete ultimate strategy of Ferrari in order to take us down?"
Lando's grin grows. "All of those things would be pretty great, but unfortunately, none of them are true. Simply, nothing at all is different," he comments, like the complete and utter dork he is.
How could Pedri ever think I'd chose this loser over him? you ask yourself in rueful disbelief.
"Alright, then don't tell me!" you say with a shrug, showing you really aren't going to waste any more energy with him.
"Good, because otherwise I might slip the secret!"
At this, your eyebrows furrow, but when you glance back at Lando, he waves his hand and adds, "You'll figure it out soon enough."
For a while, you ponder on what Lando could have been talking about, but soon you're putting on your helmet, and forgetting everything.
Because you have a chance to podium at your home race, and you intend to do it.
So you pull out on track. Drive the formation lap, entering the zone, letting everything but racing slip from your mind.
Feeling the pounding of your heart and the pulsing adreniline.
And then, before you know it, it's-
Lights out, and away we go!
"So, what place is that, then?" you question over the radio in the last lap.
"Uh, that's P2, Y/n. P2," comes the response back.
It hits you. "What? I didn't even know!" you laugh high, actually so shocked. "When did that happen?"
You hear your engineer laugh and say, "Do you want the whole run down of the race right now, or later?"
You laugh to yourself as you see the chequered flag waving ahead. "And Lando?"
"Uh, Lando go P3," answers your engineer.
"Wait, really? No way! Oh, yeah, I guess so, if I got P2!"
"Well, I'm starting to doubt you even drove the race, but if you did- great job today. That's a double podium for the team and some great points. Enjoy the podium."
You laugh to yourself and say, "I could only do it because of all the home fans cheering me on. The crowd is great!"
"Oh, and that's driver of the day, too."
"Yes! Vamos, baby. Great job, everyone, and thanks to everyone who voted for me."
When you get out of the car and flip up your visor, your heart is already pounding in your chest. Lando high fives you, and then gestures to the McLaren team, ready to greet their two drivers at the finish line.
But you can see the cheeky grin still lingering from before in Lando's eyes, and now you can see exactly why.
"Pedri?!" you scream with a (quite terrible) voice crack. Immediately you run to him, and he grabs you, taking you into his arms as you feel a couple hands from your teammates patting your shoulders and helmet in congratulations.
Pedri kisses your helmet, right where the little Spanish flag on it is. He's grinning, and says, right to you, "I'm so proud of you. And I'm sorry- I wanted it to be a surprise."
You grin and respond, "We can talk stuff over right now. Right now, I've got champagne to spray, no?"
Pedri grins back and nods in agreement. "Go for it."
In the cool down room, you corner Lando and snap, "So that's what you were being so smug about! Had you seen Pedri before the race?"
Lando grins and nods, sitting down in Max's P1 chair, not caring. "Yeah. He told me not to tell you about him being there. A surprise."
"He can speak enough English to tell you that?" You've, obviously, always just spoken to him in Spanish.
Lando chuckles and says, "Well, enough."
On the podium, when you pop the champagne, you spray it at Lando, and Lando sprays it back at you and Max. Adreniline and joy fills you as you then take a swig from the bottle and rub the stinging champagne from your eyes, feeling the wetness of it all over you.
Once you've gotten off the podium and are back in the garage, you spot Pedri, and immediately run to him. You wrap your arms around him and kiss his cheek, and say right away, "I'm so sorry, Pedri."
He hugs you back, but doesn't respond.
"I've been feeling so terrible about what happened all week... And then with the silent treatment, too..." You sigh. "I should have given you some time. I could have spared even fifteen minutes, and it would have been good for both of us. I was such an idiot, putting my own thing above you. And even if I had so much to do I couldn't spare some time for you, it was things I could still work on with you. I'm sorry. I was just being a petty idiot, and there's no reason for it."
Pedri hugs you tighter, and as you speak, it feels like there's a weight being lifted off your chest. But now it's Pedri's turn to let off the weight on his chest. "It's okay... I... I forgive you. Thank you. But I was an idiot, too. It's just... I know Norris is your friend, and I don't want you to stop having friends. It just hurts when I know you see him more than you see me. But I shouldn't have even implied you would intentionally put him over me. I'm just... It's hard not to get jealous, but I need to get better. Just... it'd be nice if you... well... if you can help it, don't constantly be hugging him and stuff, you know? But over all, I was an ass, and I'm sorry. I just took my jealousy and anger out when you said you were too busy- That was wrong of me. I'm sorry for not responding to your texts, too... The first few days, I was still too stuck in my thoughts to, but then I had the idea to surprise you at the Grand Prix, and... Well, were you surprised to see me?"
You smile softly, wholeheartedly accepting his apology and understanding his point of view much more after having a week of thinking and stressing over what had happened. But now you respond, "I was perfectly surprised. I'm so glad you came, Pedri, to see me..." Now you're beaming at him.
He grins back, stroking your cheek. "I'd never, ever miss my amazing racing girlfriend's home race!"
"I know, but..."
He comments, "It was an amazing drive. For you and Norris."
"Oh, quit calling him 'Norris'! He's my friend, which means he's yours, too, whether you like it or not!"
Pedri chuckles but accepts it. "Alright, alright. But now- am I allowed to treat Miss P2 to something sweet?"
"What do you have in mind?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.
He smirks and says with a wink, "It's a surprise. Are you okay with a second one for today?"
You laugh a little, but nod. "I don' know if anything could be better than simply the surprise of seeing your handsome face, but I suppose another surprise would be good."
"Alright, good. But first-" he leans in closer and says softer, "Don't I get a kiss from my little winner?"
You roll your eyes and say, "I'm neither little or a winner, not today."
"Ah, but you're little compared to me," he comments, referring to you being shorter than him, "and you've certainly won my heart."
"Ah, you're so cliché!" you snap, but lean in, cupping his cheeks, and give him a passionate post-race kiss.
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prince-liest · 2 days
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Hey just curious: Vox and Alastor are engaging in very extreme kinks in 666 and so far the aftercare has been ok, but do you think they've gotten good enough at it that they know how to prevent subdrop? Vox mentioned that he's not that great at aftercare in one of the installments and Alastor hasn't really done any research on the topic... I'm a bit worried about them 😅
*subdrop AND domdrop actually
It's funny that you ask this because I was planning on referencing it a bit in... [counts on fingers] 666 #8 that both of them have just been letting that happen and fucking dealing with it on their own (or not) like it's a normal thing, lmao. Alastor has absolutely just been assuming that feeling like shit after sex is a standard experience, and a non-zero part of his reasoning for not really enjoying getting off unless he's getting very specific things out of it is related to that. Vox, on the other hand, has been crawling into Valentino's bed for cuddles, which is not necessarily bad... but certainly not great when the worst of it happened after the episode where he feelings-dumped all over the place, because the person he fundamentally needed to debrief with was Alastor. There is a reason he ghosted Alastor for weeks! They have both 100% been failing at aftercare this entire time, but that's pretty expected considering the lack of communication (or even self-understanding on Alastor's part).
My personal headcanon is that Vox can drop no matter what role he's in and it's fully preventable, whereas it's pretty inevitable for Alastor to drop if he's taking on a submissive role (and pretty much never happens in any other context). A lot of what Alastor enjoys in that kind of play in 666 is rife with "I would like you to take my hypothalamus and pituitary glad and just wring them out like a sponge, thanks," which is an A+ way to end up feeling, well, wrung out after you've finished abusing your own endocrine system. Vox, on the other hand, can coast along easily on the warm and fluffies of post-coital affection because he gets just as emotional about Alastor (and Valentino) outside of sex as he does during.
The thing is, Alastor's preferences during sex are a deliberate violation of boundaries that he has outside of sex, so once sex is done, he does not actually want to cuddle or get touched very much because he's far surpassed his preferred limit on those things. What he really needs is to learn to go home, bundle up, and spend some time with a cup of coffee, something sugary, and a good book with some nice jazz playing on the radio, with the assurance that nobody is going to bother him for at least a few hours.
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invisibleicewands · 3 days
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Interview with Michael Sheen
What made you say yes to being a part of The Assembly?
I said yes to being a part of The Assembly because it was just such an extraordinary and interesting idea. Then reading about the original French series, it just sounded so extraordinary, different and potentially a very revealing way to approach the tried and tested interview process, but obviously it is a lot more than just being an interview. The interview part of it is just one aspect of the project and I think there is still a lot of confusion, ignorance and fear around people with any kind of difference. I think being able to be involved in a project like this could maybe break down some of those barriers.
How is this different from any other TV show you’ve been a part of?
It’s very much unfiltered and that’s really exciting and quite nerve wracking for that reason! So much on TV is sort of smoothed out and filtered and made safe and this, certainly in the making of it, felt very not that! All the better and more refreshing for it too. I know a lot of work is put into the research and preparation for a show like this, but in terms of the actual questions being asked and the experience that you have in all being together when you’re filming, it feels very unpredictable in a really good way and really lead by the people taking part, which is terrific.
How did you feel going into filming?
Well I didn’t really have anything to go on, so I was excited. Sometimes when I’m going to be interviewed, I know what the interview is going to be about, I have a vague idea of the questions that will come up, I know the sort of things that I need to get across about what I’m there to talk about. But with this, I really had no idea what I was going to be asked, so I had to be prepared for everything and anything, there was a kind of freedom in that I suppose. Because of the unfiltered nature of what was going to happen and not being able to anticipate what might be asked, it was a little nerve wracking yes, but I was mainly just very excited!
Did your experience differ from what you were expecting and if so how?
Well I didn’t know what to expect really, so it’s not that it wasn’t what I was expecting because you can’t expect anything! There's no way you can expect anything because you just don’t know what’s going to happen, and because it is so unfiltered and unpredictable in terms of what might happen, where things might go, how people might be feeling on the day. For all the difficult questions that got asked at times, it just felt very loving and joyful and that everyone was very happy and excited to be there even though people were nervous or had anxiety at different times. There was a genuine feeling of community and I felt very welcomed into that community and ready to play so to speak, and you have to be ready to play. I felt very safe and looked after and it was just really, very funny as well – there was lots of laughter and wonderful things that people asked, responded to and performed, I mean I wasn’t expecting all of that, that was just wonderful! So many moments that I’ll never forget.
How does this compare to any other interview you’ve experienced?
It’s so unfiltered! The closest thing I can say is The One Show, where you go on to talk about one thing and then they ask you about everything else that’s going on on the show, so you get a question about your favourite bus route, then they ask you about otters! There’s an extraordinary pinball effect of questions and that’s the closest I could describe, but The Assembly is that x100. It really is extraordinary and that’s very unlike any other interview I’ve done really, usually everything is meant to follow on logically and have a kind of smoothness and polish to it, and this is just really raw and unfiltered and uncensored and I love that, I thought that was wonderful.
What can viewers expect from the show?
I imagine it will be very funny and I think quite moving. I was quite moved at times by seeing how much people had to struggle to overcome certain things they were dealing with in order to ask questions at times. That was uplifting. I think it will be different, it will be thought provoking I hope, and challenging in certain ways; challenging certain kinds of myths and stereotypes I think and ultimately just really entertaining and fun and joyful. I can’t really remember what I said, so I don’t know what people will learn about me... but it’s not about me, it’s about that fantastic group of people, but I certainly got a huge amount out of it too and I hope an audience will as well.
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penaltyykill · 20 hours
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what if i never scratched another itch for the rest of my life? (part six) | john marino
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🔗 read all parts here
🎧 fic playlist
📓 3.2k words
📝 authors note: this was a wild one :) i love this story sm, writing it is so therapeutic for me after a long day, and everyone’s kind feedback has been so rewarding 🫶 also sry to my man holtzy getting caught in the crossfire on this one 🤭
⚠️ warnings: MDNI. 18+. smut, duh.
you waited a few minutes after john left your apartment to finally leave for work. you drove in silence to your office, so conveniently located above the devils practice rink. you sat at your desk and quietly answered a few emails there, before grabbing your laptop and heading downstairs.
you often sat in the cold metal stands of the practice rink with your computer or note pad, whether the boys were there or not. you liked the atmosphere and the creative inspiration it brought, the cold chill of the ice and the unmistakable smell that only ice rinks had.
but today, the team was indeed practicing, and by the time you walked in the majority of the athletes were already on the ice, running drills.
you spotted john out there, listening intently to his coach, looking stoic as he leaned on his stick against the boards. he looked so lost in thought, you wondered what he was thinking about, if he was even listening. he must have felt your stare because he turned his head and saw you, and smiled. you nodded back at him, your own little secret communication.
you felt a pang of hunger hit your stomach, all that coffee and no food was having an effect, and decided to go upstairs and grab some cereal from the communal office kitchen. as you lazily stepped off of the metal bleacher, the low heel of your boot got stuck between the two metal slats that made up the row of seats below you. you saw the floor coming at you quickly before the glimmer of a red jersey engulfed your entire vision. you grabbed onto someone’s arms to balance yourself and stop from falling.
you looked up at the taller figure, his light brown wavy hair more than peeking out of the sides of his white helmet.
“i got you,” alex holtz said grinning down at you.
he was still holding on to your arms firmly as you quickly dropped your own grasp on his own. his touch lingered a moment longer than necessary.
“thank you, but you can let go of me now, holtzy,” you said through a forced smile, embarrassed that he had caught you, and everyone on the ice seemed to have noticed.
he freed you from his hold and you immediately looked up to find john’s eyes on the rink. you saw him shooting daggers at alex, his gaze unbreaking from him as the younger man skated onto the ice. nate tapped john on his backside with his stick and laughed. you swear you saw john mouth, “shut up nate,” maybe with more expletives.
you walked out of the practice facility and up the stairs to your office, a mix of embarrassment, and something else stewing inside you. did nate know? does john talk about you? was it all so obvious?
***
come downstairs please
the text message from john read, a little after practice had ended.
i’m working, j
you sent back, and it was the truth. you had things to do to, social posts that needed to go up before that night’s game.
say you’re going on your lunch break
you looked at the clock, it was almost 12, so it was plausible. you were frustrated, more so with yourself, for being so under his spell, just when you thought you were finally taking some control.
coming.
you wrote back, throwing on your leather jacket and grabbing your laptop just in case you were gone longer than expected.
you saw him standing in the lobby of the practice rink as you came down the stairs. freshly showered, wearing sweatpants and a hoodie with his number on it, similar to the one you hadn’t returned to him just yet.
he looked around to make sure no one noticed the two of you, and said, “let’s go.”
he grabbed your forearm gently and led you out the doors, before you could protest. you followed him, of course you did, with no questions asked.
when you were finally in the parking lot, you asked him what was going on.
“bringing you home for a little bit,” he said nonchalantly to you.
“back to my apartment? why?” you asked him, confused.
“no, pretty girl, to mine,” he spoke, dangerously close to your ear before walking ahead and unlocking his black bmw that you were seeing for the first time.
it wasn’t flashy, but it certainly wasn’t modest. he opened the passenger side door for you and you sat down on the cold black leather interior. it smelled like him here, the scent enveloping you your senses as you closed your eyes briefly to breathe it in.
he got in and his hands gripped the wheel as he began to back out of his parking space. you couldn’t help but stare from the corner of your eye how his fingers look curled tightly around the steering wheel, how his sleeve was ever so slightly pushed up, and you could see a long vein trail out from it onto his wrist.
he didn’t notice, his eyes were on the road, but once he hit the familiar long stretch of highway, he reached his hand over and placed it gingerly on your thigh, lightly squeezing.
“everything okay?” you asked him. you genuinely weren’t sure where this afternoon was heading. his hand traveled up and down your thigh, tracing patterns on your tight black jeans, leaving you not being able to think about anything at all.
“more than okay,” he said, eyes still on the road.
he pulled into his upscale apartment’s garage, which was not too incredibly far from your own, you thought. you had probably driven past it dozens of times, not giving it a second thought.
you exited the car first and followed him into the marble coated lobby, where there was a doorman who greeted him with a smile and head nod. you suddenly felt a surge of insecurity. how many other girls had he led back to his place, how many had his doorman seen with him? did he think you were just another? you had no idea where these feelings were coming from, all of a sudden, you just wanted to be his, and his only.
maybe he sensed your tentative energy, because he pulled you close to him in the empty elevator up to his apartment, which was surely on one of the highest floors of this building.
he held you tightly from behind as he pressed kisses down your neck. you squirmed with pleasure under his touch, begging for the already fast elevator to move a little faster…
john led you across the doorstep of his apartment, you barely had a second to admire the lush surroundings before you were pinned against his entryway wall. john’s hands were firmly placed on both your forearms as he positioned your body between both of his legs and pushed you as close to the wall as you could go.
“baby,” he softly spoke in your ear, “what were you talking to holtz about before?”
you almost had whiplash from how you were taken aback not once but twice within the span of five seconds. the first being when he addressed you again as baby, it sent a surge of heat down your body as you wiggled beneath his grasp. the second, being confusion, why were we talking about his teammate right now. you noticed the familiar way john held your forearms was the same as how alex had caught you when you fell. you figured out his sick little game quite quickly after that realization.
“are you jealous, john marino?” you said back at him confidently.
he tightened his grip on your forearm, if it was just a tiny bit harder it would have hurt you.
“pretty baby, don’t be a brat, please tell me what you said to him.”
he had a knack for toeing the line between degradation and sweetness. the tension now between the two of you was something stronger than electricity. you chose your words carefully before speaking them.
“i was telling him to get his hands off of me,” you said through your long eyelashes up at him. he loosened his grip, only just.
“only i can touch you like this,” his voice was dark, raspy, almost a whisper, “okay?”
“is that right?” you quipped back, secretly relishing at the way he reacted when you said the opposite of what he wanted to hear.
your plan worked in your favor as he attached his mouth to your neck and sucked harshly, bruising your soft skin, leaving it purple when his lips left it.
you moaned directly in his ear and felt the bulge in his sweatpants straining against the cotton fabric. he briefly removed his hands from you as he slid off your jacket and dropped it to the floor unceremoniously.
“i need you to tell me something,” john said as he pulled your shirt up over your head and began harshly marking spots on your chest only he would be able to see, “why am i the only one who can touch you like this?”
the overstimulation you were feeling now was making your brain go fuzzy, you could hardly stand on your own. you calculated answers over and over in your head but it was all too much, the pressure of saying the right words left you speechless.
“mmm, johnny, tell me,” you pleaded, “tell me why, please.”
“because, baby,” and now he moved his mouth so it was just inches from your own, your gaze level with his as he angled his head down to meet your eyes, “you’re my girl.”
you swore your heart stopped beating as his mouth met yours and he ran his tongue along your bottom lip. you allowed it inside and you explored his now familiar lips, the delicious taste of him on your tongue.
he placed his hands behind your thighs and lifted you up. you wrapped your legs around his center as he carried you deeper into his large apartment. the floor to ceiling windows flooded the open space with afternoon sun as he placed you down atop his white marble kitchen countertop. you tugged on his curls as he continued to smash his lips into your own, his hands roaming all over your body, as if it was the last time he would ever touch you. you grabbed the hem of his sweatshirt and pulled it over his head along with the t shirt he wore underneath, needing him closer, longing to feel his hot skin on your own.
his fingers toyed with your pants button as he picked you up by the waist and stood you back onto the floor, against the counter top in front of him.
he unzipped your pants and pushed them down your legs, and you stepped out of them.
��turn around,” he commanded, and this time you were oh so eager to hang on his every word, you didn’t disobey him.
he ran his long, thick fingers between your legs and felt your still clothed core dripping with want for him.
“my girl is so soaked for me, aren’t i so lucky?” he cooed into your hair.
your now marked up chest was covered only by your black bra, so out of place now that your tits were barely contained in it, spilling out of the lace almost completely. you were pressed against the cold countertop as you felt his hand move your panties to the side to dip into your soaking folds. you couldn’t help but let out soft noises as he made his way to your aching clit, thumbing the bud until you bucked your hips hard back into his groin.
john’s touch briefly left you as he slid his own pants and tight boxers down his legs. his hands returned to sit on your hips as you felt his hard length pushed up against your ass. it had been too long since you’d last had him inside of you, you felt your pussy contracting at the proximity of his cock, so close to filling your hole so deeply.
he let out a deep breath and slid into you harshly with no warning, eliciting a loud moan from you. he quickly picked up speed as he held your hips in what felt like a vice grip, while he thrusted so hard in and out of your pussy.
“feel so— fuck, so fucking tight,” john was breathless as he drilled your needy hole so hard with his cock, “all for me.”
“i need it harder, baby,” you begged him and he pushed into you now with such force you could feel tears welling up in your eyes, from the pure painful pleasure his cock was bringing you.
you practically screamed his name, followed by more loud pretty sounds that escaped your lips.
“good girl,” he praised you, “let my neighbors know how good i’m fucking you.”
john continued at an alarmingly fast pace, you weren’t sure how much longer your legs could stand, they had begun to shake as you felt yourself begin to come undone in his grasp.
he started to kiss down your neck, his wet mouth now so, so, sloppy as he continued to rail into you. he hovered over your ear and brushed your hair behind it.
“who’s the only one who can fuck you like this?” he growled into your ear.
“you, johnny,” you said between the deafening sounds of the skin to skin contact, “only you.”
“that’s my girl,” he whispered as he picked up his pace one final time, his hands now firmly on your hips as he fucked into you hard. the physical sensation mixed with the emotional weight of his words was too much all at once, your legs felt like they were collapsing under you as you came hard on his cock, coating it in your glistening juices.
john made devastatingly beautiful sounds as he watched his cock slide in and out of you, now so coated with your slick desire.
“fuck, baby, i’m gonna cum for you,” john could hardly get the final words out before you felt his hot sticky release fill up your insides as he pumped one final time in and out of you.
you both stayed there for a moment, him still inside of you, cock throbbing with the euphoric release of his orgasm. he pulled out of you slowly and grabbed a towel out of a nearby kitchen drawer and cleaned you up, then himself before putting back on his underwear.
he spun you around to face him and placed a tender kiss to your lips.
“i meant what i said before,” he spoke so softly, now placing his arms around your waist and pulling you closer.
you studied the way his forehead gently creased when he looked down at your smaller frame. he was so handsome now, not only in his physicality, but with the gentle way he held you, how he made you feel. so safe, so wanted.
“i know you did, johnny, i know,” you told him as he ran his hands through your now tangled hair.
“my pretty girl, so perfect for me,” he didn’t break eye contact with you as he spoke, and you felt yourself melt into him further, like an ice cream cone left outside on a hot august afternoon.
he held you like that for a number of minutes you didn’t dare count, so soft and warm in his arms you didn’t want him to ever let go, before he finally broke the peaceful silence between the two of you.
“lay down with me before the game?” he asked you, his eyes so big now, not so subtly begging you not to leave him.
“i have work to do, john,” you softly answered before offering a solution, “but, i left my laptop in your car, if you go grab it for me i can stay and work here while you rest.”
john took you up on it, quickly throwing his pants and sweatshirt on over his bare chest as he grabbed his car keys and told you he’d be right back.
you grabbed john’s abandoned shirt and threw it on. you heard his heavy apartment door close. you finally had a moment to take in his space, as you walked his living room clad in just your panties and his t shirt. it was quite obvious a man lived here alone, it wasn’t messy, just a bit incoherent. you couldn’t blame john, you were sure he didn’t have time to play interior designer when he was on the road for half of the year.
you walked the dark hardwood floors to his bookshelf, filled with books of all types, you were impressed. next to the rows of novels and non-fictions were a few framed photos. him smiling with his family, some childhood photos of him and his brother, his harvard accolades.
you felt a little closer to him then, standing in his vast living room among his things, taking it all in, when suddenly john reappeared in his own doorway, your laptop in hand.
“got it,” he held it in the air with one hand, and passed you to travel down another long hallway. you followed him into his dark bedroom.
the blackout shades were drawn closed, and his unmade bed sat in the middle of the room atop a dark colored rug. there were a few articles of clothing strewn across the floor, but other than that it felt homey, lived in, it felt like john.
he removed his sweatshirt and crawled into his bed under the covers, placing your laptop next to him and motioning to you to join him.
you settled in next to him, and got under his blanket, immediately feeling the heat of his body next to yours and feeling so warm and cozy next to him. it would take everything in you not to fall asleep like this.
you sadly opened your laptop and placed it on your lap, as john placed his head on your shoulder to watch what you were doing. it was nothing that exciting.
“you’re so talented,” he said sleepily.
“oh, shut up,” you playfully nudged him with your leg under the blanket.
he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck and you felt his breathing get considerably slower and his heartbeat settle at a relaxed pace, as he drifted into his nap.
you got your work done quickly, wanting to savor the moment the two of you were sharing.
you closed your laptop and placed it as far away you could from yourself on john’s giant king size bed.
he lay still nestled up close to you, his bare chest now freckled with a few drops of sweat. you traced down his neck, his collarbone, his tattooed ribs. that had to have been painful, you thought you’d ask him about it when he woke up.
there were a lot of things you wanted to ask him, things you wanted to know more about him, but you remembered there was more than enough time for that later.
he groaned in his sleep and shifted in bed, moving his body to cradle yours now, and you turned away from him and tucked your body into his.
you thought he was sleeping, his rough voice startling you when he spoke, “my pretty girl.”
and maybe, you thought as you fully came to the realization that you were his and his alone, this is was heaven felt like.
🕊️
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anjelicawrites · 2 days
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After the fair
Paring: Abraham x reader
Synopsis: during a horse fair you meet an old friend, Abraham gets jealous and needs to be reminded who you love.
Warnings: reader has burn marks, reference to nausea and vomiting, anxiety, fighting, crying, jealousy, Abraham’s possessiveness, reference to prejudice against the Romanichal community, kissing, fingering, p in v sex, kissing, scratching, overstimulation, titty sucking, pregnancy sex.
A/N 1: this is a sequel to this fic, but it could be read as a standalone.
A/N 2: I don’t know anyone from the Romanichal community and used Google for my research for this fic. I tried to be as accurate and respectful as possible. Please let me know if I’ve written something wrong so I can make the needed corrections!
A/N 3: reader is AFAB but not described. Where needed, they/them pronouns used. Reader is addressed as "wife".
It’s a beautiful spring day, sunny but not too hot. It explodes over the assorted smells of people, food and horses at the fair.  You’re all the happier to be able to inhale lungful of air without feeling sick: you’re roughly into the second trimester of your first pregnancy, the first having been a nightmare of nausea caused by any smell, throwing up and being afraid of losing the child slowly growing into your belly.
You know your body is still recovering from barely managing to keep anything down for months, you’re all belly now, the rest of your skin stretched thin over your skeleton, not that you care, now that you feel better and you can feel movements in your tummy.  Abraham is still worried about you and the baby, whenever he’s not with the horses, he’s hovering over you like a hawk, ready to go fetch the healers of the community as soon as he sees signs of discomfort on your part. It’s so endearing to see how uncaring of what the whole camp thinks of him, not when your health and safety are one the line: he’s always showed you his love and care, in the privacy of your shared vardo, and kept a more stern façade for the outside to see: now that you’re expecting your first child and had such a rough start, he doesn’t seem to care about what the other men think of him, only what the women helping you advise him to do to help you with the pregnancy.
Abraham is at the horse fair today with some of the animals he’s worked on during the last year and a half, you as well came to town to do some business with one of the book antiquarians you collaborate with; having been sick for so long, you had to put everything on hold and are itching to go back to trading antiques with all your contacts in the UK. You are tired and your ankles feel swollen, yet you are happy: you feel fulfilled by a very productive work day and you want to have a small wander around with your boots in the mud and under the sun, before telling Abraham you’re going back to the vardo to lie down for a bit, before dinner.
You turn around when you hear your name being called and spot an old friend from your Oxford days.
“What are you doing here? How are you?”
You are surprised and happy to see him after such a long time!
“I’m just enjoying a nice, sunny day.” He smiles. “What brings you here? It’s so far away from Badger’s Crossing!”
You try not to flinch at the name and almost manage: the poor man doesn’t know how much that spot still hurts you and you don’t want to ruin your day.
“I’m here with my husband, he works with horses.” You say with a smile. “Husband? Now, when did that happen?” “As it usually goes.” You laugh. “A little over a year ago.” “Congratulations for that and for the little one on the road!”
He hugs you again and you tighten your arms around his big frame with all your strength: he’s always been a good friend, a companion during the long hours of study in the library, a gentle soul trapped in the body of a giant.
“What about you? Are you still trying to climb the academic ladder?”
Minutes fly as he tells you all about his goals and achievements as you two walk around the fair, he’s always been flamboyant and enthusiastic about his field of choice, and he hasn’t changed one bit. He regards you with tales of Oxford life, making you laugh with his stories about your former professors there as he helps you navigate the uneven terrain of the fair, ending up with an arm as thick as a tree trunk linked with yours.
“So, where is your husband? I need to meet the man who managed to snag you away from your books and the rest of us, he has to be a remarkable person!”
“He is! There’s so many people I can’t see him.” You go on your tiptoes and shield your eyes from the sun. “There he is!”
Abraham seems to sense your presence and stares in your direction without you calling him, his expression darkens when he sees you with your arm linked to your friend.
“Hello husband.” You go to him and put your hand on his. “I met an old friend today!”
Abraham just stares at your friend, whose expression has changed as soon as he’s seen him: too late you realize your mistake.
Abraham puts his arm on your shoulder and pulls you closer to him as your friend tries to make some half heartedly small talk: you’re so used to be around your community, you’ve forgotten how lowly gadji think of them, how the distrust easily flows towards the Romanichal people who have welcomed you with an open heart. 
You are not sad when your friend bids a haste goodbye and leaves you with your husband.
“Who was that?” 
You can feel how tense Abraham is and you place your hand on his sturdy chest.
“An old friend from university, no one of importance.” You smile in his direction. “Are you going to stay here long? I’m going home for the day.”
Abraham stares at you, assessing your condition with a worry and care you’ve gotten used to experience.
“It’s not going to take me too long. You go along, take one of Peter’s children to accompany you.” “There’s no need for that. I will collect the book when we leave the area and it’s not that much of a walk.” “it is not negotiable.”
Abraham is always on edge when Cyril is not shadowing your every move, but you couldn't bring both the goods to the antiquarian and the dog and you had to leave him guarding the vardo.  You came to the city with some of the women, he’s not going to let you go back on your own: he wouldn’t have done it if you weren’t pregnant, to begin with, now that his first born is in your belly? He’s not taking any chances.
In the end the daughters of Esme Jones come back with you, their chatting easing a bit of your tiredness and annoyance towards Abraham’s over protectiveness. You love your husband, you don’t know what you would have done without him after Badger’s Crossing, but he needs to remember you can take care of yourself, even in your state. But the thought doesn't even cross his thick skull, he simply treats you as if you're made of glass, your opinion not even considered, and that irks you to no end. 
You have to lie down as soon as you arrive at the vardo to put your legs up, hoping to help with your swollen ankles.  You’ve turned the small transistor radio on, waiting for the radio drama to start, as you tap gently on your distended belly: the midwife has suggested you might be carrying twins, after you told her how the kicks seemed to be everywhere in your belly, at the same time. 
Truth to be told, your tummy is pretty big for someone around their fifth month and she could detect no strangeness in the way your child is growing and moving inside of you, perhaps twins it is?  The thought scares you a little, not because you don't know how to act around children, in your past life as a librarian you used to organize activities with them, and were pretty good at it; those were not your children, though, you didn't have to shoulder the responsibility of their well being for their whole life. If you're truly carrying twins, how are you going to manage? The idea fills you with the need of your mother, either adoptive or biological, to take your hand and tell you everything is going to be alright. 
Two sets of kicks drag you back from your anxiety, or perhaps is kicking and punching against your tummy?  You drum your fingers again but the child (children?) don't take your bait. 
“You really want to be a mystery up to the end, don't you?” You ask your tummy without receiving an answer. 
When Abraham comes back you’re midway eating toast with butter and sardines.  You were supposed to wait for him and share the kidney pie you’ve backed, maybe while sitting outside to enjoy the late spring afternoon, but you had this violent craving for food that you didn't want to fight, not after three whole months of nausea and vomiting. 
You’ve noticed he's washed himself before coming back, his ridiculous mane of hair wet and styled the way he likes, yet he looks aggravated: had something happen back at the fair?
“Abraham?” 
You don't want to sound too apprehensive, but you can feel the tense aura around him, who doesn't respond, preferring to take a swing from the water bottle on the table. 
“What happened, my love?” You ask. 
Abraham's eyes are darker in the dying sun streaming from the window, dark blue like the stormy sea, his mouth set in a thin, unhappy line. 
“You know he wants to shag you, don't you?” He asks, the belligerent tone barely controlled.  “Who?” You're genuinely confused, feeling like he's thrown you in an ongoing conversation you've missed the start of.  “Your friend.” He spats. “The one from before. He knows you're spoken for, that you're carrying another man’s child inside of you, and he still wants to shag you!”
Slower than you want to, you manage to stand up to look into Abraham's eyes. 
“Abe, he's always been like that: expansive with his affection. Not once has he ever wanted to sleep with me.”
Abraham's brow seems to knit even tighter as he regards you.  
“You don't see it, but I could!”
The shadows on his face are darker, turning his beautiful face in a stern mask of disappointment; you stand your ground, feet planted on the floor of the vardo, eyes locked with his. 
“Let's say that you're right, that he wants me.” You grab his hands and put them on your tummy. “Tell me Abraham, whose child am I carrying? Whose seed has taken root inside of me?”
His hands clench at your words, his nose flares. 
“I’ve asked you a question, husband: who is the one who had me, who bred me? Was it him? Hmm? Who was it?”
Your nails are leaving half moons on pain in his wrist that he can't feel, his fingers spasm over your clothed tummy with the need to rip your clothes open to stare at your naked body: you’ve never been more beautiful and enchanting than now that you're full of his child, his cock is always at half mast with the need to be buried inside you warmth, now so tight and always welcoming.  You don't realize how crazy you drive him, how much he wishes to stay rooted inside of you for the rest of his life, to suck on your breasts until you're keening and begging him to stop, but he will not: he needs to die with your taste in his mouth. 
Your eyes stay locked for what seems hours but it is just seconds, before Abraham's hands evade your hold to grab your face, his long fingers in your hair to keep you where he wants you to be. 
“It was me.” He growls, before smashing his lips against yours. 
It’s not a gentle kiss, nor it is refined; his mouth slants over yours and his tongue invades your mouth, proprietary and hungry, while he backs you towards the bed and you kiss him back ferociously, your fingers already under his shirt, your nails raking down his long back.
He undresses you fast, almost ripping your clothes off your body and keeps his burning gaze on your skin while he undresses himself: you can see the hunger there, barely controlled after all the months you were too sick to sleep with him, but you still feel self conscious of the way your body is changing and of the way your scars are uglier now that your skin is stretched thin over your bones and your belly is already so big. You know he doesn’t see any of your imperfections, that he loves you, yet you wish to be perfect for him, unblemished for his eyes to see.
You slide up the bed to make space for his long body and spread your legs to accommodate his form as he hovers over you, his weight carried by his strong arms. He knows what you’re thinking, he can see it in the darkened hue of your eyes and in the way your fingers itch to cover your body with the bed sheets: he’s not going to have any of that. You are his, belong by his side, not under the heavy cloak of shame: to him you are as pretty as you were before the fire and the way your body is changing adds more fuel to the fire of his desire.
His lips are soft all over your skin, starting from your brow he kisses a slow path down your body, over your closed eyelids and your nose, his teeth nip your lips playfully and his mouth sucks at your neck, until you’re marked for the whole world to see. Gentle his tongue licks your burns and ravenously he sucks on your breasts, he murmurs sweet nothings at your belly and he smiles when he hears the child kick in response; his long fingers explore you slowly, you’re embarrassed by the squelching sound you hear and he’s having none of that.
“So perfect.” He murmurs, the blue of his eyes almost hypnotic. “So much tighter for me, and always wet.” “Aaaabe…” It comes out strangled as your back arches as much as your tummy lets you. “You’re always hungry for me? Are you not?” “Abraham, please!” You whine when his calloused thumb grazes your clit. “Answer me. Show me how obedient you can be.” He growls hotly. “Yes Abraham! For you! Only for you, husband!” You whine as your cunt tries to suck his fingers deeper. “What a good wife you are.” He purrs. “I think you deserve a reward, don’t you?”
The pads of his fingers start massaging that rougher patch inside of you faster as the thumb of his other hand takes care of your swollen clit and you cant your hips following his lead, moaning as the pleasure unfolds inside of you and spreads through your nerves, warm and familiar makes you whine and shake under his ministration.
“Abe! Abe!” You plead, needing his permission. “Close, Abe!” “Yes, now!”
His fingers move impossibly fast and your body vibrates with pleasure, trashes and arches drenched in sweat under his, your mind almost snapping when his lips curl around one nipple and suck hungrily as you come with a desperate moan.
“Oh God.” You pant, seeking his warmth. “You did good, sweet wife, so good.”
You feel pleasure lick at your nerves again when he uses his hand, drenched with the proof of your pleasure, to slick his erect cock with slow, deliberate strokes, his eyes boring into yours, daring you to look away.
“I love you.” You sob. “I love you so much!”
You don’t know where the tears come from, but they fall freely from your eyes and Abraham is fast in slotting himself behind you to hug you as tight as he can. With your big belly in the way, hugging from the front while laying down is difficult, you have to squirm a bit to hide your face against Abraham’s neck to cry, desperately, his masculine scent calming you and driving you into overdrive at the same time, heightening all your feelings for him, now exploding in your chest like fireworks.  Your emotions are so much stronger now that you’re pregnant, they escape your control, leaving you defenseless against your own self, and lost without your husband.
Abraham’s callous fingers dry the tears from your cheeks carefully, as if you’re made of glass and he’s afraid of breaking you with his oaf’s strength.
“Better?” He murmurs in your ear. “Yes. I don’t know what happened.”
You snuggle closer to his warmth, making sure his hand is laying flat on your belly and your leg is over his, wanting his cock to find home between your lower lips.
“You don’t have to.” He says and you know he’s telling the truth. “I know. I want you, please.”
The heath in your voice travels like an arrow to his cock, which swells once again, aided by the warmth of your cunt and the knowledge that you want him, and him only. He rolls his hips against yours, letting your smell, the taste of your skin pervade his senses. His hand takes hold of your tight to secure you against his body as you moan, reveling in the way his body responds to yours, how your desire entices him, how this magic can only work between you two, and no one else.
Slowly, Abraham enters you.  Ever since you stopped feeling so sickly, he tried to be as gentle as possible with you, choosing to forego his more rough ways to express the passion that consumes him, preferring to be gentler, to feel your body react to his, to just experience your pleasure and though that, find his own.
Both of you groan when he bottoms out and your walls hug his cock impossibly tight, almost to the point of pain when he starts to rock against you, his erection sucked in when he leaves your warmth, the velvet of your walls the sweetest torture, your moans spurring him on, your taste intoxicating on his tongue, as it is the softness of your breast in his hands.
His hips rock gently against you, a soft moan escapes your lips with every push in as one of your hands grab blindly behind you, scratching his naked skin, trying to pull him as close to yourself as possible.
“I’m here.” He growls. “Feel me.”
Your body shakes in his hold, your nails scratch his skin, pain and pleasure mix in your brain, leaving you a begging, screeching mess in his hold as his calloused hands grab and touch your breasts, your nipples so sensitive already that you keen, almost in pain. 
His touch is delicate, yet proprietary on every inch of your body; the way his free hand slides on your sweaty skin to grab at it, the hold on your hip to keep you flush against his bigger body, his teeth on your neck, everything marks you as his in ways the ring on your finger doesn’t.  Nothing compares to feeling him explore you and own you, to have his cock rearrange your insides with long strokes that make you whimper, to feel his index finger slowly play with your clit, keeping you on the edge of pleasure, not letting you fall, not yet, not before he’s fucked the fist of your cunt some more, heard your desperate sounds of pleasure, squeezed your breasts, now so big they fill his hands, marked you again and again.
“Abe! Abe!” You whine, you hips bucking against his hold “Shh, wait! Not yet!” he growls desperately. 
It’s so hard to control his own orgasm when your cunt sucks him in and he can only grind against you as you kiss him, ferocious and desperate, tongue and lips sloppy against his: how he wishes to keep the two of you on the edge forever, to stay rooted in your cunt until the end of times, to bully that rough patch inside of you until your voice gives, to never have to leave you again!
You come with a scream, white sparks explode behind your eyes as your cunt clenches so tight Abraham follows you immediately, his seed marking you yet again. His vision blackens for an instant, his orgasm infinite inside the sanctuary of your body, until all his muscles relax and he slumps against you, who lay breathless on the bed, overused cunt stained by his leaking seed, just basking in the feeling of his tired lips all over your sweaty skin.
For long seconds you two exist in this blissful silence, broken only by your ragged breaths, you two might as well be the last people on earth, the thick paneling of the vardo providing with all the soundproofing to believe the camp outside doesn’t exist.
“Are you still angry?”
You ask Abraham, after turning on your other side to look at his face. He’s more relaxed now, his hair a mess, his cheeks pink with exertion.
“I’m never angry with you. Your friend? He should know not to touch what isn’t his.”
There’s still an edge in his voice, that known possessiveness now enhanced by your state that’s the core of your husband. He means well and fears the gadji and their violence, is petrified by the idea of losing you, or the child: he’d die without either of you.
“I’m not sure I can call him that anymore, not after the way he looked at you. Shush! I don’t care that you’re used to it.”
There’s something in your husband’s eyes, an emotion you can’t decipher, too fast it disappears after he’s closed his eyes.
“You are truly a gift from God.” He says, and it’s the most romantic thing he’s ever told you. “I’m being just, that’s it.” You answer.
You cup his cheek and he rubs your palm like a cat.
“I’m so happy I’m carrying your child, Abraham.” “A pretty baby just like the mum.” “And the dad. Don’t sell yourself short.” “I don’t have much good to give.” He says with clouded eyes. “Don’t! If our child has half the courage and strength you possess, I could be happy. Don’t try to win this argument!”
Later that night, after you two had indeed eaten the pie outside, while chatting with your extended family, Abraham loses himself staring at you, asleep all curled up in one of his old shirts. The cotton isn’t loose on your body as it used to be, not with your protruding belly and fuller breasts to fill it, not that it matters: you always take his breath away. 
Slowly, making sure he’s not waking you up, Abraham moves the hair hiding the burn marks on your head and kisses the scarred skin with reverence: if the child is going to be half of the good person and the fighter you are, he can call himself a happy man.  You are too good for him, he can only try to live up to you and be a decent father, show the child the right way in this life, but with you by their side, he knows the child’s future is bright.
30 notes · View notes
atthebell · 3 days
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what’s the spanish comment/sentiment that’s been distracting from the situation at hand?
people have been criticizing q for talking about the situation in spanish, arguing that it's not accessible to them, when:
1. all of his statements have been translated almost immediately every time he's made them. there are plenty of translations you can find, with not much effort. it is not inaccessible it's just not immediately convenient if you don't speak spanish. that's literally a central point of this entire project, is that translation is worth it and that you shouldn't have to switch to a common language every time you need to communicate.
2. case in point, i do not think there is any situation in which criticizing someone for speaking their native language is okay. especially not when it involves a highly sensitive and important topic, especially considering that all of this involves a project that quackity started in part because of his experiences as a bilingual mexican in english language content creation spaces, a project that is about understanding the friction that comes with multilingual multicultural spaces.
3. it detracts from the actual issues at hand. quackity's statements publicly are not what's important in the scheme of things-- what's important is internal communications, which are clearly still an issue. those should be what people bring up, and if you want to criticize him talking about changes publicly but you not hearing about them internally, that's one thing. saying that him talking about it in spanish is bad is a whole other thing.
to be clear, once again, i do not blame any of the admins/devs for making these comments in their statements, i do not expect perfection from them and i don't think anyone should be angry with them personally for these comments. but i find them upsetting, and it's a sentiment i keep seeing in the fandom to an even worse extent, with people implying or outright arguing that quackity gave his public statements in spanish to make them inaccessible on purpose and had some kind of sinister intent through doing so. it's fucking ridiculous and awful and i don't think it's a mindset people should be contributing to.
i don't want to talk about this too much because i don't want to detract from the important stuff at hand but i do think people should keep this in mind.
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katiifaetarot · 2 days
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THE READING TODAY IS: Pick-A-Card | What You Need to Hear Today
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Angel #'s - 1144, 575, 1155, 44, 1211, 123, 1234, 444, 1123, 1023, 1212, 13, 1233, 4444, 1203, 1223
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There are 3 piles, and you will be picking through the Curious Cat Club playing cards//oracle cards by Stasia Burrington in the picture right below this text!!!
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PILE 1- Dim Sum | 5 of Hearts
PILE 2- Yoga | 7 of Diamonds
PILE 3- Kendama | 5 of Diamonds
** sometimes ( most of the time ) i will pick up on multiple energies that need attention or want to be expressed during the reading so i ASK YOU TO UNDERSTAND THIS DURING MY READINGS:
depending on how the reader(YOU) chooses to look at the situation or however the situation resonates for the reader(YOU) and because this is a general reading;
⚠️you HAVE to be able to use your better discernment + better judgement skills to fully absorb the message and be able to do the necessary work to keep you on track for the future you WANT for yourself⚠️
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OKAY PILE 1: Shared pleasures, Fulfillment
3 of cups, 7 of cups, the hierophant(r), 6 of staffs(wands)
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Pile 1, you're trying to find an answer to your problems or some type of conclusion to a chapter so you can move on to better and attract what you deserve finally AND/OR be able to find a space to be more grateful, aware, and kind to yourself and others you appreciate and want to support!! --Dont get caught up in fantasy without action behind some of those thoughts!! How can you achieve that goal you've been setting your sights on recently OR for a couple years now? What values, resources, traits, etc-- do you need to embody while working on this goal? Think before acting, plan out your moves and stay secretive about your projects! move in silence!! Be kind to yourself and focus on yourself while you go through this period of time. it will all work out. Dont conform to societal expectations of you or your community's expectation of you; follow what you believe and follow what makes sense to you. Stay open minded and adapt accordingly. Make sure your intentions are helping you grow and helping you advance in life // towards your goals!
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OKAY PILE 2: Balance, Self-Compassion/Forgiveness
Page of Pentacles, Page of Swords, 5 of Pentacles, Strength
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Dont get caught up in unexpected or unnecessary delays in your life Pile2, you have the capacity + capability to keep going and walk through this period in your life with grace, inner knowing, and pride that you're doing your best! And thats enough. Concentrate on facts and what absolutely NEEDS to get done to help make sure you stay on track towards your goals but also to help you feel better! Small steps turn into huge leaps!! How can you make yourself more prepared for your future? What does your future look like at this current moment? Be discreet. Dont get held back by loss, try to alchemize your pain into progress + action towards your goals and bettering yourself. Living your life means you WILL lose things along the way, familiarize yourself with that fact of life. But no matter what, you have to keep moving and living. Keep showing up for yourself and your goals. Dont succumb to petty behavior, objective perspective(s) and temperance will guide you through the tests. Mind over matter. Stay confident in your truth, authenticity, and actions!! Cleanse your energy. Find and Have faith in your dreams. You're responsible for your own life and progress. Get started now!!
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OKAY PILE 3: Games, Play, childish pleasure
The Chariot, Queen of Swords, The Star, Seven of Staffs
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You have the advantage pile 3, so act like it. You need hope, prayer(if that resonates for you), optimism, determination, will power, strength, intuition, adaptability, boundary setting skills, boundary maintaing skills, etc-- to help you through this next chapter of your life. You are a boss b**** and such a hardworker, but you might be tired and wanting to give up, which is valid but you must keep going today, tomorrow, and until you reach a goal that can allow you feel safe and comfortable reaching any and all other goals, acquiring your own space kind of goal, maybe?(take it, if it resonates) you're doing fine and dandy. Dont feel embarrassed if you've failed // do fail, its all teaching you resiliency! stay original, authentic, and honest. You can thrive anywhere and everywhere! Bratz pile, ifykyk.
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I sincerely hope you received what you needed and released what you don't !! See you again soon!! Take it easyyy and just breathe and fllooowwww!!! you got this! byyeee~🧚🏽‍♀️✨️
**please let me know how this resonated for you in any way you can! Dont forget to Subscribe to me on Youtube and follow me on here for messages, guidance, and advice! Those are the easiest ways to support me🥺 🥹 🙏🏼
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⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️
**I AM NOT A MEDICAL OR HEALTH PROFESSIONAL; PLEASE USE YOUR OWN JUDGEMENT AND DISCERNMENT TO DETERMINE IF YOU NEED OR WANT TO SEEK PROPER HELP OR TREATMENTS FOR YOURSELF OUTSIDE OF TUMBLR OR SOCIAL MEDIA!!
***AND REMEMBER: your own free will is always present within you; which has nothing to do with me or ANYBODY else. I am NOT responsible for YOUR choices after YOU consume my content on ANY of my platforms.
⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️
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zzleeper · 3 days
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PRIORITIES : chapter one
Red Hood x Black Mask's assistant!Reader
tiny bit of a slow burn btw
authors note: this is based on the under the red hood movie since i havent read the comics yet. first time ever posting fic on tumblr too!! also go check out my beta @lowtaperfeyd RN.
wc: 1121
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“He calls himself the Red–the Red Hood,” The goon talking to Black Mask rasps. When they first wheeled him into the office, he didn’t seem so hot, and that's not counting the practically full-body cast he was in. But now, watching him recount the way his ass was brutally whooped, it’s a whole new low.
Black Mask sighs in unison with you. You should probably stop spending so much time with this man, or the next thing you’re going to pick up from him is his anger issues, “So you’re saying,” Black Mask begins, and you can feel his oncoming temper tantrum in your bones, “That this fucking nobody is the reason sales have dropped fucking ASTRONOMICALLY SINCE MONDAY!”
“Well, sir,” You interrupt calmly, tapping away at your tablet, “He is the reason drug sales have stopped, but it’s really because he recruited many dealers to work under him, especially those who were working under you first.”
Black Mask stands up from his desk, and you can see each of the men standing in his office tense at the same time, “HE NEEDS TO BE FUCKING GONE!” He yells, punctuating his words by striding over and smacking a punch into the face of the nearest goon. The man groans and staggers out of the office, most likely to take himself to the hospital.
“Yes, I understand that, sir, but he can most likely beat all of our men,” You explain, evening Black Mask with a steady gaze, “Probably all at the same time.”
Black Mask huffs and waves away the man reporting to him, and he’s wheeled out of the room.
“Put a hit on him,” Black Mask instructs you, waving you off as well, and he dumps himself back in his desk chair to brood.
You smooth out your pants and nod before turning and walking back to your office. Communicating with the underbelly of Gotham was hard enough, but finding a good enough assassin to beat Red Hood? That might be your biggest challenge yet. You resign yourself to several days of conversation with bigheaded crime lords.
.
You sigh as you take the stairs up to your apartment, keys rattling as you dig them out of your pocket. Today had been a long day, and you’re looking forward to flopping into bed as soon as possible. You fiddle with your keys and the lock for a moment until the door swings open with a creak. Dropping your briefcase at the door, you then fold your coat over the couch. Burgers actually sound pretty good tonight.
There’s a creak behind you.
You calmly make your way over to the kitchen, rolling open one of the drawers and–
“Your gun’s gone,” A voice says behind you and you whip around, glaring at the direction the voice had come from.
“What do you want?” You snap, bracing yourself for a fight you will probably lose. You’re an assistant of the most dangerous crime lord in Gotham, you have people to win fights for you. The voice sounds masculine, too, which means, most likely, a stronger opponent.
There’s a slight huff, and a man steps out from the shadows, his face is still obscured, but looking at his body you are so going to lose, “I want your help,” He says. What the fuck does that mean? 
Who is this guy? You’re not easily recognizable as the Black Mask’s assistant, so this person must have done some research. He’s obviously here about the Black Mask, because there’s not much else important about you other than your job, “I’m sorry, but I don’t think there’s much I can help you with.” 
“You’re very calm, aren’t you?” There’s humor in his voice when he speaks, “I don’t know what else I expected from Black Mask’s secretary, to be honest.” You narrow your eyes at the comment. You’ve relaxed slightly, leaning your hip against the counter. Maybe if you could find a way to get to your front door before he could get to you, you would be able to get out.
“The point being?” You cut to the chase, exhaling sharply out of your nose. This will most likely end up with you being tortured if this is a man trying to get information about the Black Mask. You’ll fold easily, your loyalty to the crime lord is stretched thin.
This is the Red Hood, you realize with a start. Who else would want to take down Black Mask like this other than a man trying to challenge his rule? Putting up a fight would be useless. Looking at the men he’s killed, he’s obviously very skilled, and he carries guns with him as well. At least he won’t beat you to death, since most of his other kills are from gunshot wounds. He’s typically efficient with who he kills. Your death will be clean and simple.
Red Hood rests his hands on his hips, unaware of your sudden revelation,  “I want information. I won’t torture it out of you unless I have to,” It’s a threat, and he says it like one, his voice predatory. It scares you in a way you’ve never been before.
“I’ll come work for you,” You say rather quickly, offering the best deal that might get you out of this alive. “I have more data about the Black Mask than anyone else. You can take him down from the inside; he won’t know what hit him,” Despite how desperate the words sound, your voice is even, and you look him up and down before crossing your arms.
There’s a slight pause.
“You don’t even know who I am,” Red Hood states skeptically. You can feel his gaze sharpen even behind the mask you know he’s wearing. 
“I’m not dumb,” You snap, leaning forward slightly, “You’re the Red Hood.”
There’s another pause.
“Well, that was fast. You’re smarter than I thought, (Y/N) (L/N).”
There’s no way to hide the slight flinch at his use of your real name. It feels grounding in a way your adrenaline isn’t, “Maybe you just underestimated me, Red Hood.”
He hums noncommittally, “Nice place you got here,” He says, suggesting a conversation. His demeanor has changed completely since you agreed–more like demanded–to work for him. You just stare at him, unimpressed, “I see you don’t talk much,” He sighs, pulling a flip phone out of one of his pockets and tossing it to you, “I’ll call you on this when I need to talk to you. Be ready. And remember, you tell anyone about this, you're dead and they are too."
He leaves as fast as he appeared, striding through your front door like he owns the fucking place, leaving your heart pounding against your ribcage as the door slams behind him.
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fuckaperioddrama · 3 days
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hello love💕
i’m here to ask you to elaborate on your ideas for mattheo’s zodiac chart (and if you’re up for it, enzo’s too)
my only heavy preference is mattheo being a scorpio, but frankly i’m unsure if that’s more because of who he is versus me just being scorpio too so 💀
i wanna know your thoughts! thanks 😘
OH I LOVE YOU FOR ASKING ME THIS!
I also LOVE Scorpios and it totally makes sense for y’all to self insert yourself into a character. No shade. A little shade. I’m preparing you for what I’m about to say about Scorpios. ONCE AGAIN, I LOVE you guys.
This will not include his sign in Saturn, Jupiter, Uranus, or Pluto. I will do a full chart if you want me to. I just think those placements are more for the philosophical conversations. The ones down below contain the juicy stuff which is what I currently want to talk about.
I didn't include Enzo because I didn't feel like it.
TODAY.
I'll post his tomorrow.
~
Mattheo Riddle Birth Chart-Ish
Rising | Aries
Ruling Planet: Mars
The Rising Sign is all about appearance both physically and within how others perceive you. Aries Risings are known to have sharper and more prominent noses as well as a sharp chin and jawline. These are physical traits I associate with Mattheo Riddle. 
Mattheo Riddle has passion and determination. These traits are associated with Mars. The Ram that represents Aries is stubborn and headstrong and this is how an Aries Rising comes off. They seem independent and like they can take on any challenge the world throws at them without the help of anyone around them. Mattheo seems strong. He seems like he doesn’t need anyone even if that’s not true. 
Sun | Scorpio
Ruling Planet: Mars
Your Sun Sign is your core personality. Scorpios are some of the best signs because of who they are as people. They’re fiercely loyal which is a trait I’d associate with Matheo. He would never betray his loved ones. Scorpios are honest, determined, brave, and intuitive. Mattheo doesn’t shy from giving his opinion, he doesn’t back down from a challenge, he gets what he wants, and he pays attention. He notices things and is really good at reading people. 
Scorpios are also jealous, possessive, controlling, emotional as fuck, manipulative, calculated, petty, resentful, and they make you jump through hoops for them to open up to you. But the second you mess up? Even once? You’re done. Cut off. Good luck ever getting them to open up again. I feel I don’t have to explain why these traits fit Mattheo. 
Moon | Capricorn
Ruling Planet: Saturn
Your Moon Sign portrays your deepest emotions. Your most raw and unfiltered self. Capricorn Moons are naturally responsible, disciplined, and are very hard workers. BUT they get in their head and struggle to show those traits. Capricorn Moons are happiest when they’re succeeding in life so if for some reason they believe they’re failing then they will have a really hard time being happy. I think this fits Mattheo so well. He's so smart and has so much potential, but he doesn't do anything with it. He knows he has no true direction or good purpose in his life (yet) and that knowledge can bring down his mental health. 
Capricorn Moons remain composed when truly threatened. While Mattheo’s anger is explosive, he becomes very stone-cold when something serious happens. A person with a Capricorn Moon also tends to have a poor relationship with their father. They might have felt a lot of pressure in their relationship and high expectations. 
Mercury | Gemini
Ruling Planet: Mercury
Your Mercury Sign is all about the way you communicate and think. This placement also having the Ruling House of Mercury? *chefs kiss* So good. Mercury within your Mercury? Perfect balance. These people are curious, social, and quick-witted. I think Mattheo is a very social person when he's in a good mood. He's super charismatic and really articulate. Mattheo also has this natural curiosity. He's always doing something and doesn't shy away from an adventure. 
Someone with this placement can also have issues handling their anger and often in arguments will say extremely hurtful things. They don't mean to or want to say these things, it's just in the heat of the moment. And Mattheo??? Come on. 
Venus | Cancer
Ruling Planet: Moon
Venus is how you love both platonically and romantically. HEAR ME OUT! I know this is a very 'soft' placement. I think Mattheo is a very sweet person, he just carries a lot of unresolved trauma that covers all that up. Someone with a Venus in Cancer is very obvious about their loyalty. You just know they wouldn't abandon you. They're very nurturing and sensitive. Mattheo is fiercely loyal and even though he may not know how to show it, he does care a lot and he wants to help and take care of the people he loves. 
These placements can also be very clingy and I think Mattheo is a needy person even if he won't admit it. He would stick to his partner like glue, it would be a little overwhelming. A Cancer Venus can also be fiercely protective and extremely jealous. 
Mars | Aries
Ruling Planet: Mars
Mars deals with sex and aggression. These people are short-tempered, reckless, impatient, and so competitive. They can be such assholes and they tend to make a lot of mistakes because of how brash they can be. I just think this is very Mattheo. 
The positive side is that these people are often very driven, confident, and can be very assertive. They know what they want and they get it. 
Sexually? Beast. Very high stamina. Hard and fast. Passionate. They love some good angry sex. I say no more.
Chart Ruler: Mars
Not a lot of people know about Chart Rulers. Maybe you do, but I was like 1 and a half years into my astrology bitch era before I discovered Chart Rulers. You find your Chart Ruler by looking at your Rising Sign. Find the planet that rules that Rising Sign. For Mattheo, his Rising Sign is ruled by Mars. That means his Chart Ruler is his Mars in Aries. 
What's a Chart Ruler? Basically the captain of the ship. The other placements have a say, but the Chart Ruler is calling the shots. I think this is important to know for Mattheo because he does try to get better, but that angry impulsiveness that comes from his Mars in Aries really shines through.
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there is a subreddit (on reddit lol) called r/ftmpassing and trans guys post pictures on it to see if they pass* and people on there are very brutally honest about the pictures. which is like obviously fine bcs there's no point asking ppl if u pass if ur worried about not passing and they don't tell you the truth. HOWEVER I know for certain some ppl who post on there think they pass or are expecting to be validated and then they are upset they are told they aren't passing and told exactly why and it isn't necessarily something they can change.
like passing is such a changable thing depending on the culture you live in and also your body moves differently in real life than in pictures like I've met trans guys who passed in pictures but didn't pass in real life or vice versa like someone seeing the way u move and speak definitely effects how you pass and I know the people in the comments are working with what they have but I think it's a very American centric view of passing first of all like if u pass in America you won't necessarily pass everywhere and vice versa. and also given that they don't have the full information about ur mannerisms and your body in motion they are very brutal with their comments.
like me personally I pass as a cis man 100% of the time even pre T I passed 50 - 60% of the time and I'm not even genetically gifted, I live near an open minded area which helps and also pre t the main ppl who misgendered me were old ladies. and now I know I pass I'm never misgendered or having my gender questioned in public spaces like i used to and I even pass to trans people who often don't believe me when I tell them I'm trans and I've genuinely been asked over and over again if I'm joking or actually trans by trans people I meet and told I pass really well. but I reckon if I put a picture on that subreddit I would be told I don't pass because I don't look how you expect a passing trans man to look also I think I pass more irl than in pictures bcs I have masculine mannerisms which helps.
idk I just understand the point of the sub but I hope the ppl recieving the comments know that it is very subjective and they don't necessarily have to change the things they are told to bcs they might pass! and ppl on reddit are not the arbiter of ur passing capabilities.
*(and I'm actually not criticising this as a concept I know there is discourse about passing in the trans community but I think that "passing isn't everyone's goal of transitioning and it's absolutely fine if trans ppl can't or don't want to pass" and "passing can lead to safety and comfort and is some ppls trans goal so it's okay to want that" are two statements that can coexist)
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Hi✨ I would like to ask your opinion on something. My dom and I have been together for year and a half, most of our relationship has been online cuz we are from different cities and he has been dealing with a family situation. The thing is sex and sex play is on and off depending on everything going on in his life and I'm pretty okay with that but I have picked a pattern of his and I don't think I like it.
I have seen that we have seasons, seasons we play hard and seasons we play less. When we play hard sometimes we do it for weeks or even months but then he suggest something that for me is a hard no, at least while we're apart (is always the same thing) and I always suggest that we can try it in the future and that I'm not completely close to that, just that while we're apart I don't feel completely confortable. When he says that normally he suggests it 2 o 3 times more in very subtle way during the course of the week until I stop to explote. Then he says he's never going to suggest it again and then the sex decreases until even if I ask for permission to touch myself he doesn't really care so I stop asking for permission at all. And the the cycle starts again.
Yesterday was the day that I exploited cuz the particular punishment he suggested and even more for the lack of attention he was giving. Today I tried to have a very mature conversation about everything, we even completed an excel about kink compatibility. I said my part, he said his and for me I only said that I needed him to know me better to break me to the point were it was still safe for both of us, that I needed trust, confidence and devotion from his side so I could be fully submissive. He said he understood, that he will not suggest that again NEVER (so the cycle is complete) and that he didn't like that I was telling him what and what not to do, and that he also didn't like that we had to plan everything.
I don't know, I don't want to get through the cycle again, I'm just confused and really don't know what to do.
FYI in the compatability test he has way more "hard no" than me, even in things I would really love to try but even with that, I would never push him.
So this time I don't know that to do, I don't know if I should encourage more difficult conversations and try to solve this and wait for him to return home for good. He's going to return in one month (his family situation is finally solved). Or just give up all together. I know I'm no perfect and he's not perfect either but he always tries his best, he does research for me to feel more confortable, he always cares for me and he's always super respectful and in full control of himself. He always is, apart from this particular kink. So I really don't know what to do.
Any suggestions? I know this is way too much to ask
If you haven’t given him an opportunity to see and consider the pattern you’ve uncovered, then I feel like you should go the “difficult conversations” route. I mean, there are many signs of incompatibility here, so I’m not confident that talking is going to fix anything… but you’ll feel better about the decision to give up if you’ve ticked all the communicative boxes.
With that said:
I don’t want to project my personality and approach on to your guy, which just isn’t fair to either of you. But I’ve gotta say, this whole “I wanna do X… oh. No? How about now…? Really? I’ll bet you couldn’t do it correctly anyway, but… wow, thought that would work. What if I wear a funny hat while we— still no, huh? Okay then, behold as I selflessly and permanently abandon this thoroughly rejected idea until the next time I’m horny” thing is some real Little League nonsense, and both of you should expect more of him.
Let’s put aside the badgering and coercive vibes that everyone else on Tumblr will point out. Instead, I want to know where his goddamned pride has gone, and why both of you are okay with it disappearing.
Why the fuck is he repeatedly trying to pressure you into anything? He is —in theory— the leader of this two-person expedition, and leaders don’t nag or pout. Instead of wasting time trying to pester you into compliance, he could be showing you why he deserves to hear you beg for it.
It’s not your job to be the kind of girl who always agrees; it’s his job to be the kind of man you’d never refuse.
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