#RelationshipGoals

[morxwar]

[rafeyssugar]

you want daddy to give you a taste, baby?

daddy!rafe baby'ing y/n (aka my fav)

y/n is curled up in rafe’s lap, her back pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around her like she belongs there. (she does.)

they’re out on the balcony of his house, the night air warm against her skin. rafe’s got a cigarette between his fingers, lazily bringing it to his lips, exhaling a slow stream of smoke into the air.

y/n watches, wide-eyed, lips parted slightly as she traces lazy patterns on his arm.

“you wanna try, angel?” his voice is low, teasing, like he already knows the answer.

she nods, tilting her head back to look up at him. “mhm.”

rafe hums, tapping his fingers against her thigh. “don’t think so, baby.”

she pouts. “why not?”

he exhales, smirking. “’cause you don’t need to, sweetheart. you’re too soft for this.”

y/n frowns, playing with the hem of his shirt. “but you do it.”

rafe chuckles, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. “yeah, well. i’m not you, princess.”

she shifts in his lap, turning to straddle him, her hands resting on his shoulders. she gives him her best pout, lashes fluttering.

“please, daddy?” she murmurs, tilting her head, voice soft, sweet, dangerous.

rafe’s grip on her tightens. his jaw flexes.

“baby,” he warns, but she just smiles, pressing a kiss to his jaw, then another, trailing them down his neck.

“just one time,” she whispers.

rafe exhales, shaking his head. “gonna be the death of me, angel.”

but he gives in—because he always does when it comes to her.

he takes another slow drag before holding the cigarette up to her lips.

“breathe in slow, baby,” he murmurs, his free hand resting on her waist. “just a little.”

she nods, lips wrapping around the cigarette, inhaling carefully.

but it’s still too much. she pulls back with a cough, eyes watering, fisting his shirt as she buries her face in his chest.

rafe chuckles, rubbing slow circles into her back. “too much for my baby, huh?”

she whines, nuzzling closer. “don’t like it.”

he smirks, tossing the cigarette aside before cupping her face, wiping away the tear that slipped down her cheek.

“told you, angel,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “not for you.”

she sighs, looking up at him with bleary eyes. “but you taste good when you do it.”

rafe raises a brow. “yeah?”

y/n nods, playing with the chain around his neck. “mhm.”

he grins, tilting her chin up. “you want daddy to give you a taste, baby?”

she nods again, breath hitching slightly.

so he leans in, slow, deliberate, brushing his lips against hers before finally kissing her—deep, lazy, like he’s got all the time in the world.

when he pulls back, she’s dazed, lips swollen, cheeks flushed.

rafe smirks, rubbing his thumb over her bottom lip. “see, baby? don’t need a cigarette. you can just get high off me.”

she exhales, sinking into him, letting him wrap her up in his arms.

“mmm,” she hums, already dozing off against his chest.

rafe just smiles, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“that’s my good girl.”

[ghost-37]

[lovepassionheart]

[theambitiouswoman]

💗 A Healthy Relationship Should:

Boost your confidence

Encourage you to achieve your goals

Elevate your happiness

Bring you peace

Provide stability & security

Cultivate experiences

Nurture emotional and physical intimacy

Inspire you to take care of yourself

Enhance your life

💗 A Healthy Relationship Should Not:

Undermine your self esteem

Hinder your independence

Limit your growth

Create stress

Promote jealousy

Neglect your needs

Isolate you

Manipulate or guilt you

Be overly dependent

Ignore boundaries

[oursuperadventure]

Quick! Look after this cat!

(Psst! Our new comic collection TREATS! is now live and this comic is part of it! Find out more over at sarahgraley.com/treats)

[adviceformefromme]

RETIRE FROM BEING A ‘GO WITH THE FLOW’ TYPA WOMAN…

So here’s the thing, going with the flow, has served you… up until a certain point. Up until your heart is screaming 'speak up, ask what’s going on, ask what his intentions are, ask him what is truly up'…

But then you go seek advice from the culture..Telling you, not to ask - If a man is interested he will let you know, if a man wants you he will show you. And while this all might be true.. What if you are in fact with the wrong man? What if you are ‘going with the flow’ and he is not truly interested....What about regardless of him you have signals in your body you are ignoring? You can feel something in you, screaming SPEAK UP. And this is where you have to burn what is being told..and listen to your heart. Listen clearly because it is guiding you to peace, to freedom, to living your best life. So quit being a go-with-flow. A rose has thorns for a reason. You have to be intentional to pick a rose. Thorns are there for protection. You have to enforce boundaries so you can't be picked and thrown by every-and-anyone. Your voice becomes the thorn. Even if your voice shakes, speak up, ask questions. Filter the real from fake. This will allow those with no intentions for you, for your wellbeing to quickly fall to the sidelines making way for what is real, what is true, and what is meant for you without wasting any of your precious moments. 

[honeeysagee]

ᴛɪᴍᴇᴏᴜᴛ!

summary: working on seperate teams, but crossing paths, breathing the same oxygen - sam and bucky just can't seem to escape each other. suddenly, it blows up in their face.

warnings: divorced!sambucky, spoliers to thunderbolts, petty sam - pettier bucky, yelena, bob, joaquin, and carol watching these idiots fight, bucky throwing sam's tramua in his face, sam throwing hands, and then it gets eally angsty towards the end - sorry!

𝘢/𝘯: 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘴𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺'𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳.

Sam Wilson didn’t notice the temperature shift. Didn’t notice the silent questions Joaquin threw his way with just a look. Didn’t notice the way Carol smirked and cleared her throat like she’d just walked into something she wasn’t supposed to see.

Well, Sam did notice.

He just didn't want to admit it.

Because admitting it meant acknowledging the distance that he placed between the two of them or how the weight of a single stare ran chills up and down his back until he shivered from the mere thought of what flesh and metal felt like on his skin again.

A deep sigh pulled from his nostils, breathing the exact smell of something lost.

"Barnes," Carol tested the waters, as if she was waiting for Sam to suddenly combust to the name. She had joked that their reunion would be known as Sam's Finest Hour, but she had no idea in that moment how right she would be. Because even though Sam kept his face straight—no crack in his armor, no flicker of anything but calm—his mind was sprinting. Every question, every possibility, every why now? clawing at the edges of his thoughts.

Bucky Barnes did notice the temperature shift. How every eye in the room seem to dance between him and Sam. Yelena's smirk. Bob's raised brow. The silence that stretched between all of them just a second too long.

He stole a glance at his -

No.

At Sam.

Sam, who was standing arms crossed with an unreadable expression as if nothing in the world could shake him. Like Bucky hadn't just walked in and cracked something open both had been tiptoeing around for months.

Bucky forced his gaze away, jaw tightening. He'd told himself that when the time came, he would explain why he left. How he got caught up in this mess of New Avengers, but there he was, thinking Sam didn't deserve his explanation.

"Danvers." He finally answered back.

“Now that we’re all together,” Yelena said, leaning back in her chair with a smirk, “we can talk about Avengers and New Avengers.”

Her tone was too casual, too knowing.

Sam’s jaw flexed. Bucky didn’t look at him.

"It's a stupid name, in my opinion," Joaquin said, plainly, "Anything else would have been better."

Bob chimed in, "We were the Thunderbolts. Named after Yelena's soccer team, but Val had other ideas."

Yelena shrugged like she couldn’t care less. “Thunderbolts was better. At least it didn’t sound like a bad sequel.”

Carol’s lips twitched, holding back a laugh. “Well, branding isn’t exactly our strongest suit.”

The room filled with the kind of easy banter that should’ve broken the tension. But it didn’t. Not for Sam. Not for Bucky.

Because every word, every offhand comment, was just noise against the weight of what neither of them was saying.

Bucky tried to ignore that he’d chosen to stand closer to Sam than anyone else in the room—so close that if he wanted to, he could reach out and touch him.

Just once.

Just to know what it felt like to be touched by something good.

Sam snapped, "There's only one Avengers team. Hate to be that person, but you guys aren't Avengers," He wanted to glance at Bucky, but he need better. "You're knock off anti-heroes, trying to finally do something good with all the bad you've done - with the government funding your little adventures."

The room went dead silent, the kind of silence that feels thick enough to swallow whole.

Everyone was watching. Waiting.

Yelena was the first to break it, her smirk widening as she leaned back in her chair, unbothered.

“Ouch,” she said, voice dripping with amused sarcasm. “That hurt, Sam.” Her tone was light, but her eyes were sharp, like she was daring him to say more.

Bucky huffed. Every gaze landed on him. He stood tall and rolled his eyes, "Like Bob said, Val threw this on us. What were we to do?"

There was an edge to Bucky’s voice—rough around the edges, a brittle blend of defensiveness and challenge that wasn’t quite a dare but almost. Like he was standing on the thin line between frustration and something deeper, something raw and barely contained.

The air in the room seemed to shift, growing heavier. Every person caught in the space between them fell silent, their breaths nearly held as if waiting for a fuse to ignite. Time stretched, slow and suffocating, as Sam’s eyes locked with Bucky’s.

Sam’s gaze was steady but weighed down—like he was trying to hold back a storm that had been brewing for years. There was an entire history written in that look: betrayals, regrets, moments stolen and lost.

Finally, Sam spoke, "I don't know, James. Something other than agree to this shit. Maybe, run. That's what you're good at." The words hung between them, raw and unapologetic.

Bucky recoiled at his name - nostrils flaring. "Sorry, we can't all be Mr. Perfect, Samuel. Staying when the party's over because you don't know to let go."

Sam’s eyes narrowed, the flicker of irritation barely contained.

"Well, at least Mr. Perfect doesn't have the government playing puppet with him and his team." Sam smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes like normal.

Bucky smirked, the tiniest spark of mischief flashing in his eyes. “Oh, please. Like you’re some kind of saint. You think your little team’s any better than us? At least I don’t have to babysit a bunch of rookies.”

"Rookies?" Joaquin asked quietly. Carol rubbed his arm with a face saying - sorry, you had to hear thatm, but it's true.

Bucky took a slow step closer, voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Shuri, Riri, Elijah - those are kids. You're not building the Avengers. You're making a daycare.”

Sam's jaw clenched, "You're the one to talk about age."

“Funny coming from someone who’s been acting like a kid since we met.” He took a slow step closer, voice dropping to a teasing drawl. “Still got a lot to learn, Sam.”

Sam’s eyes flashed, but he held his ground, voice steady. “Maybe. But at least I’m still here, trying.”

The room held its breath again, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

Bucky’s gaze flickered, sharp and calculating. “Trying doesn’t mean anything.”

"Oh, we know." Sam was closer to Bucky now. They were practically toe to toe. "You don't try at all, do you? You run when things are too hard. You give up and leave in the middle of the night without a call or text or whatever the fuck you think I didn't need." Sam's accent was starting to slip out.

This was getting personal now. Avengers and New Avengers were suddenly sidelines, and the group was watching a house being set on fire.

"I'm sorry I activated your abandoment issues. Grow up." Bucky’s jaw tightened, fists clenching at his sides. His voice was low, but every word dripped with bitter resentment. He stepped closer. They were definetly toe to toe now.

"Okay, maybe we should take a step back and some deep breaths." Bob offered.

"Shut up!" Sam and Bucky shouted in unison while staring each other down.

"Or, we can not listen to me. I'm down for either." Bob eased back in his seat, hands raised in mock surrender, while the room sat frozen between the storm and the calm before it.

"What the hell did you say to me?" Sam whispered, yet he didn't need Bucky to repeat it. They both remember nights were Sam crawled into Bucky's bed, whispering his fears of being alone. Of waking up and finding the people he cared about gone. Of carrying the weight of that loneliness with no one to catch him.

How he clinged to this thing - whatevr it was - that him and Bucky shared. The need to have each other around no matter what.

Sam had to learn how to be alone - alone. He wanted Bucky, and he wasn't there.

"You heard me."

Bucky whispered back, voice low but heavy with something Sam hadn’t expected—raw, guarded vulnerability.

Inside, a storm raged. Shame twisted in his gut, clawing at him.

He hated how true Sam’s words felt. The nights he’d left, the silence he’d kept—all of it a defense, a way to protect himself from his own fears. But now, standing here, so close, all those walls felt fragile, cracking under the weight of years and regrets.

He wanted to say more, to reach out, to fix what had broken. But the words stuck, tangled in the space between them. Bucky’s eyes flickered—pain, guilt, and something like longing—all hiding behind that hard edge.

Yet, none of that mattered the moment Sam lunged at Bucky, fists flying with blind, burning anger.

Bucky dodged instinctively, moving with the grace and precision of years in the field, weaving away from Sam’s wild punches.

Sam wasn’t thinking—just furious, every hit a release of pain he’d been holding in too long.

He landed a couple of solid blows, gritting his teeth as Bucky staggered back briefly. Bucky didn’t hold back either. He returned fire with quick, controlled strikes, landing a few hits that made Sam wince.

The room erupted into chaos.

Yelena was the first to leap forward, voice sharp as she shouted, "Okay! What the hell?!”

Carol was right behind her, rushing in to grab Sam’s arm, her face tight with concern. “Sam, we promised no fighting!”

Joaquin and Bob hung back, watching the scene unfold, their expressions a mix of disbelief and reluctant amusement.

Bob crossed his arms, nodding slightly. “They're pulling their punches.” Joaquin smirked, eyes following the flurry of jabs. “Still got some good moves, though. Sam’s got heart, but Bucky’s got the experience.”

Meanwhile, the girls worked together to physically pull the two apart, their strength and urgency forcing Sam and Bucky to slow, their anger simmering beneath the surface.

"Timeout for the both of you," Yelena's yells. Sam froze, meeting her sharp glare and—just for a fleeting second—he saw Natasha in her eyes. That same unwavering steel, that same don’t test me authority.

The heat of the moment was still in the room. Bucky meet Sam's eyes. For a moment, he almost apologized.

Almost.

Then his lips curled into the faintest, cruelest smirk. “Walker hit harder than you do.”

Sam’s face went blank for half a second—then fury lit behind his eyes as he lunged at Bucky again without hesitation.

Carol cursed under her breath. Yelena groaned. Bob muttered, “Should’ve seen that coming,” while Joaquin sighed, “Yeah, round two.”

And just like that, chaos erupted all over again.

The room was quiet now.

Sam and Bucky sat on opposite sides, bruised and scratched, each holding an ice pack against the damage they’d left on each other.

Outside the door, their teammates’ muffled voices drifted in—Carol, Yelena, Joaquin, and Bob debating in low tones about what to do with the two of them.

But inside, it was just silence.

Bucky stared at the floor, the faint rise and fall of his chest the only sign he was even breathing.

Sam leaned back in his chair, jaw tight, ice pack pressed to a swelling bruise on his cheek.

Neither spoke.

Bucky shifted slightly in his seat, wincing when the ice touched a tender spot on his ribs. His eyes flickered toward Sam for just a moment—quick enough to go unnoticed, or at least he hoped it would.

Sam sat still, arms crossed loosely over his chest, ice pack balanced against his cheekbone. He didn’t look at Bucky. Not yet.

Outside the door, the muffled voices rose for a moment—Yelena’s sharp tone cutting through, followed by Carol’s calm, measured response. Then, footsteps faded, leaving just the two of them with the quiet hum of the room.

Bucky exhaled slowly.

Sam’s jaw flexed, like he was chewing on words he couldn’t bring himself to spit out.

Finally, Bucky muttered, almost too low to hear, “Sorry about what I said.”

Sam didn’t move. Didn’t blink. He just kept staring at the floor.

After a beat, he replied, voice low but steady. “About me punching like Walker, or running a daycare, or the Mr. Perfect thing, or the abandoment issues?”

His tone wasn’t angry anymore. It was quieter, flatter. Like the fight had burned out the fire and left only the hurt behind.

Bucky’s grip on the ice pack tightened.

Yeah… he’d been harsh. Too harsh. Every word meant to push Sam away had landed exactly where he didn’t want it to—straight in the places he knew would hurt the most.

For a second, Bucky wanted to defend himself. Say it was just the heat of the moment. Say Sam hit first.

But the excuses felt empty in his throat.

“…All of it,” Bucky muttered finally. His voice was rough, edged with something that sounded almost like regret.

Sam slowly lifted his gaze, finally meeting Bucky’s eyes. He expected anger to rise again, that familiar spark that always came with their arguments. But it didn’t.

What he felt was heavier.

It was that hollow ache he knew too well. The same ache from the nights he’d whispered his fears in the dark, hoping Bucky understood without him having to explain it. The same ache from the morning he woke up and Bucky was gone.

And now here he was—bruised, sore, and still wondering why he cared so damn much.

Sam pressed the ice pack harder to his cheek, like it could numb the sting that wasn’t physical.

Bucky shifted, looking uncomfortable, like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how. “I was—” He hesitated, then let out a short, tired breath. “I was being an ass. I know. I just… didn’t know what else to do.”

Sam stared at him, searching his face for anything real.

And what he found wasn’t anger. It was regret.

It almost made him feel worse.

“Yeah,” Sam finally said quietly. “And you still went for it.”

And the words hurt to say, because even after everything, part of him still wanted Bucky to choose better.

Sam shifted the ice pack, letting it rest in his lap. He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor before lifting his eyes back to Bucky.

“Why’d you leave?”

Bucky froze.

Sam’s voice wasn’t sharp, wasn’t demanding. It was quieter than that, steadier. And somehow that made it worse.

“Don’t give me some half-ass answer, either,” Sam continued, his tone calm but heavy. “Don’t say it was easier. Don’t say you didn’t owe me anything. You were there. You… were there, Buck.”

His chest felt tight, the words scraping against the knot in his throat.

“You don’t get to just disappear and then stand here acting like I’m the one who couldn’t handle it.”

Bucky’s hands tightened around the melting ice pack. He stared at the floor, his jaw tight, the muscle in his cheek twitching like he was holding something back.

Sam continued, "Dinners in Louisiana. Date nights in New York. That was us. I saw you on the news, parading around your political career, and I was happy for you. Then, you don't text. Don't show up anymore. You came and went. For 2 months, I watched you through a TV because you couldn't face me, and I was tired of being understanding. I finally thought I was someone's end goal. Not another phase to get through."

“You were always my end goal,” he said quietly, voice thick with something like regret. “No matter where I went, no matter how far I got roped into other shit… you were the person I wanted to come back to at the end of the day.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, tension visible in his shoulders.

“But then… The Void happened. Bob got involved. Val forced us to say we were the New Avengers. I didn’t want to join. Hell, I didn’t want any of it.”

His gaze dropped again, voice barely above a whisper.

“I was in my Shame Room, and I relived every mission. Every day and night I hurt someone. Then, I came out and realized how much I wanted to change. How much I still had to change. Then, I saved somebody. People clapped for me when I saved someone. You know what that’s like. I didn’t then, but now, I do.”

He paused, swallowing hard, struggling with the vulnerability in his own words. “I thought if I lost that feeling, I’d lose myself. And maybe… I was scared I’d lose you too.”

Sam listened, the fight draining out of him but the hurt still burning beneath his skin.

He understood. Hell, he really understood. Bucky’s fear, his struggle to hold onto something real in the chaos—it wasn’t easy.

But understanding didn’t erase the sting.

Sam’s jaw clenched, eyes flickering away as the weight of everything crashed down on him.

“I get it, Buck,” he said quietly, voice rough. “I get the fear. The guilt. The shame. The pride of being someone's hero. Saving a life. Feeling wanted.”

He ran a hand over his bruised cheek, fingers trembling just slightly.

“But I’m tired. Tired of being the one who always understands. The one who holds it all together when you walk away. I don’t know where to put this hurt anymore.”

His gaze snapped back to Bucky, sharp and raw. “I just wanted you.”

The silence that followed was thick—full of the kind of truth that wasn’t easy to say but had to be heard.

Bucky stood slowly, wincing when his back popped sharply. He stumbled a little but caught himself, then took a few careful steps over to Sam.

Without a word, he sat down beside him, shoulder nearly brushing Sam’s. He rested his head against the cold wall, eyes closing for a moment as if to steady himself.

Sam breathed in.

He didn’t move, but the warmth of Bucky’s shoulder so close was something his body remembered—something his heart had been aching for without admitting it.

Neither said a word. The silence between them shifted, no longer heavy with pain but fragile with a quiet understanding.

Sam’s hand twitched, hovering just inches from Bucky’s, but he didn’t reach out. Not yet.

This closness, whether Sam wanted to admit it or not, was Bucky's apology. Sam could feel the steady rise and fall of Bucky’s breath against the wall, the subtle warmth of his presence seeping through the space between them. He wasn't ready for the apology yet, but this was a start.

The two of them sat like that—silent, bruised, and broken—but together in the quiet.

[hasret-iazam]

[browngirl9diary]

I just wish I was back picking strawberries with my love again. Felt like a little petite baby girl with my big and strong husband out in the fields.

[rafeyssugar]

love bites

daddy!rafe x desperate reader

the room is dimly lit, the only light coming from the moon that spills through the window, casting shadows across the bed. rafe’s got y/n in his arms, her body nestled against his, as they lie tangled in the sheets.

he can’t help himself—he’s always got his hands on her, tracing the curve of her neck, his fingers brushing over her soft skin as she sighs in contentment, nuzzling closer to him.

“daddy,” she whispers, voice small and needy as she shifts in his lap, her fingers playing with the hem of his shirt.

“yeah, angel?” he hums, kissing her forehead, hands gently trailing down her back.

“want you to make me feel good,” she says, her voice low, almost a pout, and the way she looks up at him with those wide eyes of hers—so sweet, so innocent—sends a rush of warmth straight to his chest.

“yeah?” he asks, voice low and teasing, though there's a hint of something darker behind his words.

y/n nods, shifting again, her lips brushing over his collarbone, hands lightly gripping his shirt. “yeah, daddy. need you to spoil me.”

rafe smirks, fingers gently threading into her hair as he pulls her closer. “spoiling my baby girl, huh? you’re already spoiled, angel.”

y/n lets out a little whine, turning her head to expose the delicate skin of her neck. “just wanna feel you, daddy.”

he doesn’t hesitate. his lips move down her neck, pressing soft, teasing kisses along the sensitive skin before his teeth graze lightly, just enough to make her shiver.

“so soft for me, baby,” he mutters, nibbling on her neck, feeling her pulse race under his lips.

y/n lets out a quiet moan, fingers digging into his shoulders, and it only encourages him further. he sucks on her neck, marking her—leaving love bites that will stay for days, signs of ownership, proof that she’s his.

“daddy,” she gasps, her back arching as his lips trail lower, his hands moving to her waist, fingers splayed over her skin.

“that’s it, angel,” rafe murmurs, kissing the spots he’s marked, his thumb gently brushing over the little red hickeys he’s left behind. “just for me. nobody else gets to have you like this.”

she’s too far gone now, her breathing shallow, her fingers running through his hair, tugging him closer as if she needs him to be even more attached to her than he already is.

“can’t get enough of you, baby girl,” rafe groans, trailing his fingers up and down her back, pressing soft kisses to her neck. his other hand moves to the hem of her shirt, lifting it slightly, just enough to feel her skin against his.

“feels good, doesn’t it?” he asks softly, pulling her in tighter.

“mhm,” she breathes out, her eyes fluttering closed as she leans into him. “feels perfect.”

his hands wander, exploring the soft curves of her body as he marks her neck again, sucking a little harder this time, leaving a darker bruise, a reminder of who she belongs to.

“my spoiled little baby girl,” he murmurs, his voice full of affection and desire. he gently pushes her back onto the bed, hovering over her, making sure she feels completely safe in his arms.

“you’re mine,” he says softly, his hands sliding up her sides, his lips brushing over her forehead. “forever, baby.”

she looks up at him, eyes soft but full of that wildness he’s come to adore, and her voice is barely above a whisper. “forever, daddy.”

rafe smiles, kissing her forehead. “good girl.”

his fingers run through her hair, as he pulls her back into his arms. “now, let’s just relax. no worries, no stress. just you and me, baby.”

y/n curls up against him, feeling the heat of his body against hers. she sighs contentedly, letting herself melt into his touch, knowing she’s safe in his arms—his spoiled, sweet little girl

[lovepassionheart]

[oursuperadventure]

This is you! ❤️ Hey! We’re at Thought Bubble Comic Art Festival this weekend! Come say hi!

[adviceformefromme]

💖 WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR??  - 66 DAYS UNTIL 2025 - GLOW UP SERIES [WEEK 9] - 💖

We are officially 66 days till 2025. It’s creeping in fast, and the new-year, new-you work begins TODAY. You read correct. You don’t wait till 2025 to start showing up as your most ELEVATED, radiant-glowing-self, as someone with goals, purpose, dreams and visions. Someone who is actually putting in the work, no. You start that shit from today, and if you’ve been following the glow-up series it actually started last month. 

So what do you need to do/ know in order to elevate pre-2025. 

If you haven’t already you need to be clear on your TOP LEVEL GOAL. This is that one dream that would make you so happy, the main focus in your life. If it't not clear, or you have too many focus areas, you can brainstorm all your goals and then circle the top three that would mean the most. 

Next you want to break those goals down and figure out which one is going to change your life. For example, if your goals consisted of new car, earn x-amount, meet the love of your life, launch business, go back to college. If meeting the love of your life was the one thing on the list you wanted above everything else this becomes your focus. You need to break down what is blocking you from achieving this goal, what you need to do daily to bring this vision to life, and get really clear on how you want to feel. 

NOTHING COMES ABOVE YOUR PRIMARY GOAL. That means this is where your energy goes. You’re not clutching on to your goal desperate, you are in the mode of preparation and alignment to RECEIVE what it is you desire. 

Let’s break this down further... Your three focus points of your primary goal you need to be clear of TODAY (make sure your journal is with you taking notes right now). 

1] What has/ continues to block you (for example, you’re single keep attracting unavailable men - the root is lack of self worth/ unhealed traumas). You want to get into the nitty gritty of why you are not where you want to be. Get to the root. 

2] Get clear on exactly how you would feel if your top level goal was your reality. You can start with another brainstorm. And from this, you want to create affirmations, using I feel, I am, I decide, I am choosing and you want to record yourself on your phone on a rampage. You need to listen to this daily, getting your energy into the feelings of your desire. 

3] Daily actions. This is your tangible action plan. You’re in your masculine energy making moves in order to move forward. Example, you’re booked in for therapy sessions to finally heal your childhood trauma, you’ve committed to reading two books on the subject before the end of the year, and this week you are going to the book store to pick the first book and start reading 15 pages per day before bed, you are making an effort each day, looking and feeling your best EXPECTING to cross paths with love of your life,  you’re committing to one podcast episode per day on unpacking and understanding your relationship blocks as you go on your daily 10k hot girl walk…

Do you get the jist of what you need to be doing? You need an ACTION PLAN. You would never get in an uber without a destination, so why are you living your life without a clear plan? The GPS is your route, there may be twist and turns along the way, maybe some detours, but ultimately you KNOW where you are going and you have a plan. This is what this work is about. 

Today is the perfect time to take action. No more sleeping on your dreams. No more waiting for tomorrow. Make your plan, follow the steps above, and watch and see how wholesome you feel each day because you are actually investing in you. You’re not chasing anyone, your not following the crowd, you are putting you first and foremost. Remember the work you do today, creates the life you are wishing and waiting for come 2025. 

[hektor-world]

if you’re reading this, i hope you’re okay