#mr. padre

[retropopcult]

1990

[starshadyy]

what your favorite splatoon character says about YOU!

obligatory “this is a joke” disclaimer, please don’t take offense i’m only being silly👉👈

☆ ★ ☆

callie: you are a diehard squid sisters fan. you have an intrinsic sense for design and are probably super creative. you hate it when people misinterpret her. others wouldn’t assume it, but you actually need therapy more than most others on this list…😔

marie: you’re really intimidating but probably super nice. you’re actually good at the game and are well-versed in the meta. you may not be the best at communication, but you have a strong intuition and are good at reading people

pearl: an absolute feral crackhead who needs to be kept on a leash. definitely queer. nasty majesty is your national anthem. you breathe life and energy into every situation you enter, and others appreciate you for it. you are pearlina’s strongest soldier! 🩷🩵

marina: you are a massive nerd /affectionate. you either wanna be her friend or you have a fat crush on her. you listen to splatoon ost all the time. your room is packed with stuff from the media you like, including mountains of plushies

shiver: you join her team during splatfests even when you don’t necessarily agree with the platform. you’re likely very sarcastic and always speak your mind. oh yeah, and you’re a weeb

frye: you loved her from the start and defended her honor back when everyone was clowning on her design. you’re very talented but humble about your accomplishments. you would bite someone if allowed

big man: you act laid back but are probably filled with anxiety. i get the vibe that you would own an unconventional pet of some kind [turtle, frog, ferret, etc.]. you’re for sure the mom friend. you know nothing about splatoon lore

captain 3: you are the BACKBONE of this fandom and i have nothing but respect for you. you’re probably ranked pretty high in competitive and are likely a completionist

agent 4: you grew up on splatoon 2 and were sure that they would show up in side order only to be… uh, half right? i’m so sorry sweet prince /gn. don’t you worry, your day [splatoon 4] is fast approaching…

eight: you’re very analytical and derive great joy from the story aspects of splatoon. you either write or read fanfiction and maybe cosplay too. you LIVE for the found family trope, and also probably ship them with captain 3. you have amazing taste :]

neo agent 3: you think lil buddy is the most adorable creature to walk the planet. you wish their initial outfit was actually accessible in the game. you’ve probably only played splatoon 3

cap’n cuttlefish: you’re an og who’s been around since splatoon 1 but still know next to nothing about the lore. you don’t main a weapon, and instead prefer to bounce around. you are… an inscrutable crackhead who i want to study

dj octavio: you’re willing to die on the hill that he is not a villain and only did what he did to support his people [you’re right btw]. you’re actually really chill and fun and i have a lot of respect for you. also, i’m liable to believe that you ship him with cuttlefish, don’t you? DON’T YOU?!?

commander tartar: you’re… ME??? villainous characters are always your favorites. you think octo expansion is a masterpiece [and you’re entirely right]. you’re a splatoon scholar and scour every obscure twitter post and artbook note to satiate your hunger for that sweet sweet lore. there’s something deeply wrong in your head.

mr. grizz: you play a lot of salmon run but are actually kinda bad at it [shhh i won’t tell]. you suffered through after alterna just for his backstory log and the bear ears. i’m going to go out on a limb here and say… you have daddy issues

smollusk: you LOVE the idea that marina and pearl are its adoptive moms. you’ve beaten side order with every palette. you overuse the “🥺” emoji. you miiight be a little annoying, but your heart is in the right place… probably

acht: either the chillest person you’ll ever meet or the most insane. probably both. you’re 100% queer and probably neurodivergent too. i bet you listen to will wood and / or tally hall. i wanna be your friend

harmony: you know every chirpy chips song by heart. you’re probably really sweet and i know you make banger fanart. you have an affinity for cute things and i bet your favorite pokémon type is fairy. DEFINITELY neurodivergent.

cq cumber: ???you both confuse and frighten me!!! what can i even say? you’re a cryptid! but honestly, you’re kinda iconic. i salute you, you freak of nature🫡

iso padre: I LOVE YOU. you’re accepting of all people and are just an absolute saint in general. daddy issues, but you’re coping way better than the grizz fans. also, i’m betting that you’re neurodivergent

sheldon: i didn’t think you existed, but turns out that you do? you actually listen to his rambles. splatoon 2 is your favorite game in the series. you’re able to see the value in things that others tear down and y'know what? i respect that [not saying i approve of your character choice though]

judd: wait, why him? ohh wait, i know! you probably just don’t care about splatoon’s story at all and / or love cats. there, that’s totally it, right?

lil judd: you either DON’T know his lore and just like the cute little kitten, or you DO know his lore and you’re unhinged. i’m scared of you

spyke: you’d bark for him without hesitation and DON’T pretend you wouldn’t. you clown. you absolute freak. i know what you are. /j

murch: if i had to bet, you’re probably the shy type who prefers to let others do the talking for them. you might secretly be a little freaky though, and i think you should embrace that side of yourself. you’re safe here. be free.

[davetada]

Padres fan

Los Angeles, CA

[aricastmblr]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Mew Suppasit (@mewsuppasit)

mewsuppasit instagram con sus padres y su prometido tul_pakorn

ข้าพเจ้า นายศุภศิษฏ์ จงชีวีวัฒน์ (มิว) จะขอลาอุปสมบทในวันจันทร์ที่ 28 ตุลาคม 2567

การอุปสมบทครั้งนี้ เกิดด้วยความตั้งใจของข้าพเจ้าที่ต้องการศึกษาพระธรรมคำสอน เพื่อนำไปใช้ในชีวิตของข้าพเจ้าในอนาคต รวมถึงศึกษาวิปัสสนากรรมฐาน และเป็นการบวชเพื่อสร้างบุญตอบแทนคุณบิดามารดา ผู้มีพระคุณกับข้าพเจ้าด้วยอีกหนึ่งประการ

อนึ่ง กรรมใดที่ข้าพเจ้าได้เคยประมาทและล่วงเกินท่านไว้ ทั้งกายกรรม วจีกรรม มโนกรรมก็ดี ทั้งตั้งใจหรือไม่ตั้งใจก็ดี ทั้งต่อหน้าหรือลับหลังก็ดี ขอให้ท่านทั้งหลาย โปรดอโหสิกรรมแก่ข้าพเจ้า ณ ที่นี้ด้วย

ขอใ��้อานิสงส์และกุศลบุญจากการอุปสมบทของข้าพเจ้า แผ่ไพศาลถึงทุกท่านโดยทั่วกันเทอญ 🤍

ขออภัยหากมิได้มาเรียนเชิญด้วยตนเอง

Tomorrow, I undertake the sacred journey of ordination, embracing a path of reflection, forgiveness, and renewal. To all whom I may have wronged, whether knowingly or unknowingly, I offer my deepest apologies. I acknowledge the karmic ties that bind us through past actions and any sorrow I may have caused along the way. This journey is a step toward purifying those connections, seeking to create harmony and peace for all involved.

With this, I also release any pain from those who may have wronged me. I hold no resentment, only the wish for mutual liberation from the burdens of our shared experiences. May this transition serve as a foundation for a life devoted to compassion, wisdom, and peace, bringing healing to all who are touched by these intentions. I humbly seek your understanding and blessings as I begin this new chapter, guided by the light of this sacred commitment. 🤍

#ปุญญวัฑฒโนภิกขุ

Mañana emprendo el viaje sagrado de la ordenación, abrazando un camino de reflexión, perdón y renovación. A todos los que pude haber hecho daño, ya sea a sabiendas o sin saberlo, ofrezco mis más profundas disculpas. Reconozco los lazos kármicos que nos unen a través de acciones pasadas y cualquier dolor que pueda haber causado en el camino. Este viaje es un paso hacia la purificación de esas conexiones, buscando crear armonía y paz para todos los involucrados.

Con esto, también libero cualquier dolor de aquellos que puedan haberme hecho daño. No guardo rencor, sólo el deseo de liberación mutua de las cargas de nuestras experiencias compartidas. Que esta transición sirva como base para una vida dedicada a la compasión, la sabiduría y la paz, trayendo sanación a todos los que se ven tocados por estas intenciones. Humildemente busco su comprensión y bendiciones al comenzar este nuevo capítulo, guiado por la luz de este sagrado compromiso. 🤍

#ปุญญวัฑฒโนภิกขุ

[agustina956]

❤️‍🩹

[aeclectick]

the second rule is that if anyone mentions "s*phomore sl*mp" in conjunction with our new white boy of the year Jackson Merrill, we also kill them

the first rule of san diego padres 2025 season is that if anyone brings up PEDs in conjunction with our prodigal baby boy Fernando Tatis Jr, we kill them

[ethereal-w0lf]

Nicknames I want Roman to use for the other sides in the future.

Janus: Ego-hisstical, Doctor Frankenlies, Serpently stupid, Hissy bitch, Hannibal Lie-ture, Christopher Coliebus, Deception, Jessie.

Remus: My Picture from Dorian gray, Fart jokes and no nos, ‘Literally such a stereotype! I mean how many times have evil twins been done!’, Screw-you-tape letters, Despair, James.

Virgil: Stress It Off, Distress, Count Drearyula, CreepyPasta, Shadow boy, Sir Angst Supreme.

Patton: Fluttershy, Padre, Mr. Dad Jokes, The most emotionally in touch side, Sunshine and Rainbows.

Logan: Spock, Anger, Machine Learning, Rage bot, Second most Grounded Side, Nerdy Nelly, Anger Management, The Numbers guy, Doctor Who Cares.

Edit: for Logan also Rage from the machine.

@thatsthat24

[sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth]

Treat your mouth as if it's heaven's gate

(Sam Winchester x female reader)

Summary A case brings you and Sam to church, which means Sam needs to dress up as a priest. It's not your fault that it brings such sinful thoughts to you, but it is your fault that you start acting on them… CWs Priest!Sam. They're gonna have to burn down this church. Is it a daddy kink if you call someone Father? Rated 18+. 5.4k words.

Sam Winchester masterlist ⏐ SPN masterlist

You walk into the church dressed as one of the parishioners, right behind an elderly couple who nod and smile at you, but then your eyes fall on Sam and you have a hard time controlling your expression. Mr. and Mrs. Johnson don’t need to know that the sight of their new priest just made you very wet.

Sam and Dean are off to the side, greeting everyone coming in. Dean looks damn nice too - it’s hard for him not too, but your eyes are glued to Sam. The way the black accentuates his long limbs, his broad shoulders. The way he’s just listening intently to someone telling him something, slowly nodding along. It makes your mouth feel dry. You’re a lapsed Catholic so you weren’t exactly excited about this case. But things are looking up.

You make it to the front of the line, where Sam and Dean make a show of introducing themselves, some throwaway Irish names.

“Deloris Van Cartier,” you say with a coy smile as you shake Dean’s hand. He only makes a face that shows his renewed annoyance at the name you insisted on, but when you extend your hand to Sam, you see the small smile tug at the corners of his mouth. His mouth that you’re really taking an interest in right now. He must notice, because when you look up into his eyes again, his hand still hasn’t left yours, his index finger splayed over the inside of your wrist.

“Anything?” Dean mutters and you blink to break the eye contact with Sam, look over at him.

“Nothing so far,” you say, then look back at Sam, only to catch him looking down at you with an unreadable expression. “But I’ll keep watching.”

Service is boring, but it allows you to keep looking at Sam. He and his brother are sitting in the front row, exchanging low words every once in a while, both looking around. It allows you to see his strong profile, expression awake and curious. His hair is sticking out a little on one side, and you want nothing more than to brush it behind his ear. Or tug your fingers into it, make him look at you. You shift in your seat, earning you another friendly nod by Mrs. Johnson. If only she knew. 

After mass, the church empties. Some people stand around, talk, and it’s a good way to ask about the recent murders. The downside is that the Johnsons introduce you to their single neighbor, Jerry. Jerry talks at you like he’s trying to say something like I’m gonna give you the night of your life, then rub at your thigh for two minutes, before asking if you came. You manage to disentangle yourself from that conversation quickly.

When Sam, Dean and you finally check in with each other again, everyone else is gone.

“There’s something suspicious about that padre,” Dean says, blue steeling hard, so you know he’s picked up a trace. He’s capable, so you don’t feel bad about what you suggest.

“Maybe you go and follow him,” you say, “and Sam and I make sure there’s no other clues here?”

For once, Dean doesn’t catch that you’re just trying to get his brother alone. It’s shocking actually, but you’re not gonna question it. Maybe the idea of you and Sam fucking in a church is a little too salatious, even for Dean. He pretends to be the sex-crazed one, but you’re almost certain he’s pretty vanilla.

Not Sam though. Sam is a goddamn freak. Literally.

So Dean leaves, but then Sam, to your utmost disappointment, actually starts searching the fucking church for clues. That’s okay. You’ll get him where you need him.

You watch Sam as he moves, all the way on the other side of the church. He’s got that intense look on him, the one where his lips are pressed together, his forehead knotted. You stop where you are, two rows of pews between you and him. Take a careful look around to make sure there really is no one else there. Then your hands go to your knees before travelling under your dress and quickly pulling down your panties. You push them into your handbag, then put the bag on one of the seats. You also take off the cardigan you were wearing over your summer dress to cover your shoulders, lay it next to the bag. Clear your throat.

“Sam, I think I found something,” you say and his head snaps up, eyes searching you out. You nod at the ground. “Some kind of weird inscription. Looks like it was scratched in recently.”

And Sam, sweet lamb, he thinks you really found something, walks over to you with long strides, expression attentive. 

He looks at the ground before you and you can immediately tell he doesn’t see the made-up scratches, but is too polite to say it. He stops at arm’s length from you, head bent down.

“I don’t see it,” he says and you point at the ground. 

“That’s cause you’re all the way up there, giant man,” you say and Sam huffs and then lowers himself, drops into a squat.

You step forward before he can tell you again that he doesn’t see anything. You gently lay your hand on the back of his head and then you’re pressing his face against your crotch.

Sam’s hands shoot to your thighs and for a second you wonder if he’ll push you away. Sam has a hard time initiating stuff, but when you do, he’s like a switch that’s flicked. 

His hands wander up, quickly, under your dress, up the back of your thighs, roughened, tough hands against the milky softness of your skin there before his big paws find your ass cheeks, squeeze them hard and then pull you harder against his face.

He takes a deep breath, so deep and lustful that it makes your eyelids flutter, and you make a fist of his hair at the back of his head, pull it without pulling him away, while Sam keeps massaging your ass. 

You can feel the tip of his strong nose pressed against your softest parts, the thin fabric of your summer dress still separating you, but not by much. Sam’s shoulders rise again as he takes another deep breath. He must smell your wetness, the earthy musk. The one that's all for him.

He pulls back his head a little, lets go of your ass cheeks, but only to grab the hem of your dress, push it up. His eyes are on your pussy, and he groans when he sees you're not wearing any underwear. He tilts his head up, chest rising and falling slowly while his strong fingers press into your skin.

“For me?” he asks, voice husky and you feel a messy grin sneak onto your face.

“Always for you,” you say with a smile that you’re only pretending is coy. Sam narrows his eyes up at you.

“Is it a… priest thing?” he asks, just slightly tilting his head. You shrug, all innocence.

“It’s mostly a you thing,” you reply, then bite your lip, drawing Sam’s gaze there. “But the priest thing isn’t hurting.”

You see the small tug at the corner of Sam’s beautiful mouth, the slight raising of his chin, the same one he does when he discovers something interesting in a book, but also the one you’ve learned to spot when he’s thinking up something nice for you.

With your dress still bunched up in his fists, Sam pulls you in. 

His mouth lands high on your thigh, warm breath fanning over the skin before determined lips press against it. You feel another gush of wetness join what is already there as you scratch your fingernails down the back of Sam’s head, eliciting a low groan from him, but then he detaches from you, looks up at you. 

“Sam,” you breathe, “don’t stop.” But he just raises his eyebrows a little.

“Sam?” he asks. You need to swallow, almost painful arousal shooting through your core, a tight fist of need.

“Father,” you say instead and Sam nods slowly.

“Keep your hands by your side,” he says, voice low, but you’d think he shouted with him quickly your hands leave his head and drop to your side. One side of Sam’s mouth twitches into a half-smile.

“Good girl,” he says and then lowers his head again.

Your eyes nearly roll up and a needy whimper leaves you at the mix of his words plus the feeling of his open mouth pressed just to the side of your pussy. He’s kissing you, strong lips and wet, hot tongue darting out, like he would kiss your mouth, but he’s keeping an inch of distance from your clit, taking his time as his mouth makes you wetter than you were before.

His stubbled cheek brushes against your lips and it feels like a hundred volts pumped into you, only that little touch making your breathing come out chopped, your hands form into fists to keep them where he told you to keep them. You can feel your wetness start to travel onto the inside of your thighs, desperate and waiting for any relief, and at the same time sure that direct contact will kill you on the spot.

Sam’s tongue and lips are still exploring you, taking his sweet time, and if you had the wherewithal to look down, you’d see his eyes are closed in reverence as he is lost to the taste of your skin, the warmth of it. 

“Please,” you mutter, the word leaving you without intention, just the single thing your brain can still come up with. But if anything it makes things worse, because he pulls his head back and looks at you again.

You must be a pretty sight - cheeks flushed, eyes closed, brow knotted, hands tight fists at your side. Sam squeezes your thigh where one of his hands is holding it, and you manage to blink your eyes open, look down at him.

“What do you want?” he asks, his voice stern and challenging. You lick your lips, try to calm your breathing, concentrate on what you’re saying.

“Your cock, Father,” you breathe out and you can see the effect it has on him, the tensing of his beautiful features.

Sam lets go of you, presses himself up to stand. He briefly sways, his hands already going to the fly of his pants, his large, imposing body so close to you you can feel his body heat radiating off him.

“Oh yeah?” he says, his own breathing heavy as you hear the clink of his belt buckle. “Down your throat or in your cunt?”

You press yourself closer to Sam, his words nearly making you dizzy, but not as dizzy as the need between your legs. Still, there is nothing better than seeing Sam lose it like this, watch all his self-control and strength come apart.

“My mouth,” you reply, voice breathless, and you’re almost certain Sam didn’t expect that, because he looks away from where he’s opened his pants, at your face, eyes going wider for a second, before his hand shoots to your neck.

He pulls you up towards him so hard you feel the stretch in your neck and calves as you try to meet him as much as possible. Sam’s kiss is hard, all lips and teeth and uncoordinated as he pants into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he grunts, “you’re gonna drive me crazy.” You just have time to grin against him before you drop down again and then go lower, your hands wandering down his body. 

Your knees meet the cool stone floor as you keep looking up at Sam’s face. He looks even more hulking from down here, miles and miles of long, lean limbs, making you feel tiny. Since you no longer need to hold on to him, your hands go to his opened fly, one diving in and taking him out.

You can’t help the moan that leaves you at the sight of him, thick and quickly hardening. Since you don’t have the self-control Sam has, you lean forward immediately, lips wrapping around his head, gently suckling.

A long, deep groan leaves him, making your eyelids flutter. Two things you were more than happy to learn about Sam once you started hooking up: he’s well-endowed, fitting his large frame, and he’s vocal.  

Popping your lips off him, you stick out your tongue, begin running it along Sam’s length, the soft skin of him kissing your cheek and lips, spreading your saliva over your chin. His hand wanders to the base of your neck, long fingers tangling in your hair there and gripping it hard, whether to encourage you or control your onslaught impossible to say.

You go back to the head of his cock, suck it into your mouth as you hollow out your cheeks, before taking in more of him. Sam grunts again, his hips slightly rocking forward before he controls himself.

“Touch yourself,” he breathes out and it takes a moment for the words to seep into your cockdrunk head. Your eyes open, just for a moment, and then your hand drops between your legs and you begin petting yourself.

You’re careful with how sensitive you are, your thighs slightly twitching. You’re uncoordinated, blind with lust, can’t settle on a rhythm, on a spot. Your middle and ring finger dip into you, their entry easy with how wet you are, but they feel all wrong, they’re not bringing you any relief, only more need, more want.

The sound you make around Sam’s cock must betray your frustration, because with his grip in your hair, he pulls you back, tilting your head so you look at him. There’s spit all over your mouth and your eyes must be misty as you open them, your chest rising and falling quickly. Sam’s raised eyebrows ask a question without words.

“Can’t reach where you reach,” you press out, unable to form a full sentence. “Doesn’t feel as good as you.”

Sam’s upper lip pulls up and then suddenly the hand at the back of your neck is gone, only for it to wrap around your upper arm like a vise.

Sam pulls you to your feet and then forward, and you nearly go tumbling with your needy lack of coordination. But he’s there to hold you up, and when you see where he is dragging you, renewed arousal makes your knees buckle. 

Your front meets the altar at the head of the church, not too hard, but hard enough that your hands go out to steady yourself. Not that you could go anywhere, not with how close Sam crowds in behind you. One of his hands flies to your front, under your breasts, running over the fabric of your dress, blindly searching but only touching, only taking you in, while his other pulls up your dress again.

“You need my help to go deep?” he pants and you nod, before Sam’s other hand pushes against your back, making you lean forward until your cheek meets the surface of the altar, cold marble burning against your hot skin. “Need me to show you the depth of His love? Of mine? Hold up your dress.”

Your hands go to your hip, bunching up your dress and how exposed it makes you to Sam sends an intense shudder through you. His hand wanders higher, to rest between your shoulder blades, keeping you down and in place where you belong, while his other moves behind you.

It’s his finger that enters you, though, not his cock, and despite that being a significant improvement, you still mewl in disappointment.

“No, need more,” you moan, your voice cracked and broken. “Need your cock, Father, please.”

Sam huffs as he slightly twists his finger inside you, making you feel how deep his long digit is going as he explores your inner walls.

“Don’t be greedy,” Sam answers, his finger only blurring the edges of your need. “You’ll get what I give you.”

You flex your fists, bite your lip, then clench your pussy in the hope of feeling more of him, but Sam is taking his time, until he finally pulls his finger most of the way out of you, and pushes in again with two.

You turn your head, your forehead pressed against the surface below you, as a long drawn-out moan leaves you. The urge to rock your hips back is overwhelming, but you’re too worried that Sam will take the game to the next level, will withdraw to teach you a lesson. Still, it’s almost impossible not to.

“You need to be opened up,” you hear his low voice, the sound of it making you feel like a feral animal. “Be a receptacle for the Lord.”

You have something brewing in your brain and on your tongue about what you’d much rather be a receptacle for, when suddenly you hear voices.

Your eyes fly open and Sam’s fingers stop moving. You’re pretty sure the voices are coming from the vestibule, the door luckily closed. The volume of the voices remains the same and it sounds like they’ve stopped outside, but still. They could walk in any minute.

Sam pulls his fingers from you, and you’re getting ready to push down your dress, mentally already flattening your hair, calming your breathing, even though you know there is no way someone could walk in now and not know what you have been doing. But that’s not what happens.

You feel the pressure of it against your entrance, and for a second, you are struck dumb by what is happening, and then Sam’s cockhead penetrates your folds, slipping into you and you know.

The sound that leaves you is accidental and animalistic, the surprise and stretch making you feel like you’re losing your mind. One hand lets go of your dress and shoots forward until your hand is resting just below you, and you lean down, sink your teeth into the skin on the back of your hand to stop any other sounds from leaving you.

It’s a good thing, because Sam presses deeper, your whimpers muffled against your flesh, eyes squeezed shut. He’s breathing hard, but low, his fingertips squeezing you where he’s holding on to you.

“Can you be quiet?” he half whispers and you’re honestly not sure you can. But the alternative is having him pull out, and that is not an option, so you quickly nod. Sam must see your head move because he presses deeper.

The voices are still there but either retreating or just difficult to hear with the sound of blood rushing in your ears. You can feel Sam disappearing into you, know that the sight of it is like a magic trick being performed, how much of him fits inside of you. It’s why you love being able to see how he fucks you. But right now, you can only feel.

Sam bottoms out, his pelvis pressing against your ass as if he’s hoping to bury even more of himself inside of you, but there's no room, no more room anywhere in you with how absolutely he fills you. You concentrate on your breathing, in through your nose, out through your mouth, but already you can feel your own desperate clenching around him, your body looking for friction, release, anything.

And then Sam pulls out and you can’t help but arch your back, needing to feel as much of him as possible. The pull in your back muscles is almost painful, but it’s a wonderful accoutrement to the drag of Sam’s cock. He pushes in again before he’s fully left you.

Your clit is screaming for attention, your body is screaming to come and you want nothing more than to grab all parts of Sam, inhale him, suck on his skin, but all you can do is lie there and take what he is giving you. His thickness rubs along your most sensitive spots, begging for more stimulation, but you get what you get.

Sam pulls out and pushes in a few more times, and then you’re finally sure the voices are retreating. Your body relaxes somewhat and Sam lets out a long, tense breath. His hand on your back finds your shoulder, squeezes it.

“Oh God,” you whimper, finally daring to make a sound again and his hand moves again, wraps around your face, fingers pressed against your lips.

“Never heard that thing about using the Lord’s name in vain?” he asks, voice shaking a little, but you can barely hear him, instead press your tongue against his fingers, then suck two of them into your mouth. Sam groans roughly, his next push into you harder, less controlled.

“Fuck,” he grunts and then pulls his fingers from your mouth and his cock from your pussy. You whine, but only until his hands grab your hips, turn you around.

He is a sight to behold, when you turn around and face him. He looks like the Almighty himself, wrathful and powerful and beautiful. He leans his head down, presses his forehead against yours and you press back, desperate to touch him.

“Need to taste you,” he says, and you moan at his words. “And then I need to really fuck you.”

With that, he leans down a little, his arms going around your waist, yours around his shoulders, and then Sam lifts you up onto the altar. He pushes you back, bullies you into position until you are lying down. Roughly hoists up your dress again.

This time there is no preamble, no playing around. Sam goes for your clit, sucks it into his mouth and your body bucks up at the sudden assault, loud whimpers bursting from your mouth. He lets go of your clit, then drags his tongue along your entrance, swirling as if he’s tasting ambrosia, before running it up and going for your clit again. He must be tasting so much of you, plus his own pre-come, and momentarily you’re jealous that he gets to savor the cocktail of both of your essences mixed, and you don’t.

You want to grab his head, press him against you, but you remember his words from earlier. Keep your hands by your side. Maybe he still wants you to do the same. So instead, you extend your arms to both sides, hoping that keeping your hands as far away from him as possible will do the trick.

You raise your legs though, and Sam uses his big hands to press them up against your torso, slings his arms over them to keep you in place. The last glimpse of him that you see is him staring down at your pussy, his own lips parted, heavily panting.

Sam dives in, licking and sucking and even nipping at you when he can’t control himself. He’s pressing his face so hard against you you’d be worried how he’s still breathing, if you had a single coherent thought left in your brain. You feel his thick nose crush against you, the press of it making the muscles in your stomach contract.

You can only lie there, eyes closed, lips parted, needy, desperate and pathetic noises leaving you. A high whimper when Sam sucks on your clit hard, making your lower body buck, half to meet him, half to get away from him, but Sam keeps you in place. There’s no way for you to move.

You feel your orgasm approaching rapidly and for a moment, you let your eyes flutter open, the darkness of your eyelids making you feel almost too much. You look up, at the vaulted ceiling, the rich, gold decorations and then, as you press your head back, your shoulders twisting up, pushing yourself down to feel more of Sam, your body making the choice for you, you see Him.

His arms are stretched away from his body in a mirror position of you. Long, dark hair, on his head and shorter on his face, a lean but muscular body. His face filled with such deep longing. Just like yours must be.

You burst into your orgasm, fingers desperately trying to hold on to something, body bucking up as Sam keeps tongue-fucking you roughly, and you are filled with so much light and heat you think you’re about to implode. Your cries are high and loud. Someone walking in wouldn’t know if you’re in pain or ecstasy. 

As your body stops its shaking Sam gives your clit another quick suck, making you gasp and flinch. He lets go of you and you drop your legs, then close them, roll onto your side. You’re painting and shivering.

You feel Sam’s hand low on your spine and you turn your head when you feel him lean over you, meet his lips. His kisses are frenzied and you can taste the sweet tang of your pussy on his lips and tongue.

You shuffle, bring one leg under him and then to his other side, Sam now between your thighs and his lips twitch, a sinful smile on them, before he grabs your hips and with one hard tug pulls you closer to the edge of the altar, closer to him. He straightens a little, positions himself to penetrate you again and you raise yourself on your elbows, chase his jaw with your lips.

“Make me good, Father,” you pant, licking at him, only getting the dimple in his chin. “Fuck your goodness into me.”

Sam pushes one of your legs open, then looks at your face as he presses his cock into you. Your eyelids flutter as you’re tossed between the shores of feeling too much and already feeling like you could come again. He leans over you, his hair falling into his face, and sinks home.

You kiss him again as Sam starts fucking you, deep, intense thrusts that immediately respark the flames of your arousal. One of the straps of your dress has fallen off your shoulder, and Sam hooks his finger into the fabric, pulls it down, revealing your breast to him. You move your leg higher on his side and in response, Sam hooks it over his elbow. He drops his head, finds your nipple and runs his tongue over it, then sucks it into his mouth and gives it a gentle bite. You moan loudly, grab his biceps to have something to hold on to as Sam begins snapping his hips against you.

The stretch of Sam’s thick cock is rooting you perfectly in the moment, your body rejoicing at the intense intrusion. He’s breathing hard now, low grunts leaving him as your pussy drags pleasure from him, your lips meet his cheek and lips, your fingernails dig into his arms. He’s got you under him, strung like a taut wire, but it’s his groans that are becoming more intense, more uncontrolled. 

“You want me to make you full?” he asks, voice deep and cracked, so raw you feel it in the tips of your fingers and down to your toes. “Make you full of His love?”

“Yes,” you moan. “Make me so full, so full it runs out over your big cock.” Sam groans, picks up his speed.

“Come with me,” he pants. “I want you to.” You’re pretty sure you nod, but you can’t be fully certain. What you do know is that you bring one hand away from Sam’s arm to between your legs, to where Sam is opening you up so perfectly. It’s all wet and warm there, and you begin petting yourself.

“You’re gonna come on my cock?” he asks, his voice becoming strained.

“Yes,” you breathe, barely able to make any sounds anymore.

 “You’re gonna let me ruin you?” he asks, interrupts himself with a loud moan.

"Yes," you gasp, your orgasm within reach, so close you can taste.

“Gonna let me make you a sinner?” Sam asks, voice raw and forced.

You open your mouth to answer, but it’s too late - the feeling too intense, too overwhelming, as a high whine leaves you to accompany your second orgasm.

Sam grunts loudly, maybe at how tightly you’re squeezing him, how eagerly your walls are pressing against him, trying to keep him there, sucking him in, and in the next second, just as you barely manage to open your eyes, he comes too.

His shoulders are heaving, his eyes squeezed shut, the most sinful, perfect moans leaving him. He presses his open mouth against your jaw as he keeps grinding into you to fuck his come deeper into you.

Sam goes slack over you, his big body untensing, his broad chest expanding against you on every breath. His face is still pressed against your neck and you run your hands from his arms to his back, stroking him, just needing to keep touching him.

You both lie there as your breathing slows and ultimately syncs, as you both come back to yourselves and each other.

“What the fuck? ” he mumbles against you, sounding very much like himself again. All you can reply with is a fucked-out chuckle.

“I think I skipped Sunday school when we covered this part,” you say, your fingers running into his hair, twirling one strand between your fingers. “I only remember the part about the good Samaritan.” And Sam doesn’t react, just keeps breathing delicious warm breath against you, so you poke his shoulder.

“Get it?” you say. “Sam-aritan?”

Sam’s shoulders begin shaking, and then he presses himself up, the breath and the press of his nose against you disappearing, but at least you’re rewarded with seeing his face. He looks down at you, expression amused and critical at the same time. The way you know him.

“You just got me to fuck you in a church,” he deadpans, “and now you’re making bible puns?” You shrug.

“I contain multitudes,” you reply. Sam raises his eyebrows.

“That’s Walt Whitman,” he corrects you. You press your lips together.

“It’s a good think you’re handsome and fuck like a god,” you reply, “because you’re a goddamn smartass.” Sam chuckles, making your heart bloom with warmth, and then he pushes himself up.

"Language," he says, but there's little authority in it now.

Once he’s standing, he slowly pulls himself out of you before helping you sit up. He wraps one arm around you to help you drop off the altar, and you can’t resist getting both your hands on him to steady yourself. And as if you’re not swooning enough already, Sam’s hand goes up, runs over your hair where it must be messy from how hard he fucked you.

You both flinch when you hear the creak of the door and then you turn, and there’s Mrs. and Mr. Johnson walking in. You drop your hands off Sam quickly, forcing a polite smile, while Sam clears his throat, crosses his hands in front of his body.

There’s a short moment where the four of you just stare at each other, no one saying anything. You blink repeatedly and hope no one notices your shifting around when you suddenly feel Sam’s come begin to run out of you.

“There’s a…” Mrs. Johnson starts, pointing over her shoulder at the door leading to the outside. “We were… looking for you…” You nod, widen your smile.

“Father and I were just…” you start and then you realize you have no idea where you meant for that sentence to go.

“Praying,” Sam quickly adds. “We were praying.”

“How… nice,” Mrs. Johnson says, and her husband nods along.

“But now we’re gonna go outside,” you say, and then you quickly cross the distance to the bench where you left your things, strategically holding the cardigan in front of you. Sam is right behind you, throwing the older couple another friendly smile. The two just continue staring. 

Sam presses his hand against the small of your back to get you moving, and then you’re both hustling it out of the church. However you can’t stop yourself from grabbing his hand once you’re out of sight, just as you’re about to walk out of the church into the sunlight. 

You squeeze Sam’s hand and he squeezes back, and when you look up at him, you see his dimpled grin, barely contained.

Maybe you should consider going to confession this week, you think, as you try to hide your own grin.

[bth3cowboi]

snoop the bells, cs55xreader

part 1 part 2 part 4

masterlist

pairing: carlos sainz x reader

summary: Sometimes marriage is the result you get by mixing two long term partners, devotion and a love for a Snoopy plushie.

format: social media au

a/n: some spanish translations at the end! hope you enjoy

( twitter )

( instagram )

ynraces 3h

liked by carlossainz55, lewishamilton and 1.455.675 others

carlossainz55 2h

liked by danielricciardo, charles_leclerc and 988.765 others

ynraces

liked by carlossainz, scuderiaferrari and 5.667.987 others

ynraces C&Y 25’ ❤️🪐 Ready to start a new journey with you, my beautiful boy and husband. Can’t wait to see what life bring us from now on, I love you.

tagged carlossainz55, carlossainzoficial;

see all comments

user1 OMGGGG

user2 THE ROYAL WEDDING

carlossainzoficial Hermosos mis hijos

carlossainz55 Gracias papá ❤️

ynraces 🥹❤️

user4 wow this is beautiful I cant

user5 PAPA SAINZ🥹🥹

lewishamilton Congratulations guys🫶 Wishing you the best

ynraces Thank you Lew! Thanks for coming too

user6 LEWIS WAS THERE? WHO ELSE??

carlossainz55 Te amo😍

ynraces I love you too my bambi

charles_leclerc How do you even find a snoopy for this?

charles_leclerc Also congrats on the wedding

ynraces snoopy and WOODSTOCK

carlossainz55 She has a pinterest board for every snoopy situation

ynraces babe I got that ring and RAN to my romantic board

charles_leclerc Wow you have one for everytime you crash or lose the car?😂

ynraces yes😳 its in between my “snoopy charles getting FUCKED by ferrari” board and my “snoopy charles loses in his home gp” board!!

landonorris DAMNNN

landonorris She ate you up 🫵🫣🤣

ynraces I also have “snoopy lando norris getting his first win” but its empty

charles_leclerc HAHAHAHA

landonorris :(

carlossainz55

liked by landonorris, f1 and 4.677.233 others

carlossainz55 My perfect wife, my perfect girl. La mujer más guapa y especial que he podido conocer. I can’t imagine what life would be without you by my side so I will make sure to do everything right so you can stay with me forever. ❤️ I will always cherish this day, thank you.

tagged ynraces;

see all comments

user1 wow my parents🥺🥺

landonorris 🫶🫶 Love you guys

liked by carlossainz55, ynraces and 3.556 others

user2 ay the getting ready pic😭😭 im crying

user3 they just love each other too much your honor!!

sebastianvettel So happy for you! Congrats😊

ynraces thanks seb youre the best i miss you come back thank you again

user4 I get it girl I miss seb too💔

fernandoalo_oficial Vamos chicos💪 Felicidades

ynraces Mi puto padre💪💪

carlossainz55 Gracias!!

ynraces I know I want to stay with you forever, thank you for making me the happiest and luckiest girl! Sharing life with you is enough to keep me content, can’t ask for more:)

carlossainz55 Wow I love you

user5 Im sorry I cried

user6 yn being this serious and romantic just killed me

georgerussel63 👏👏❤️

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, ynraces and 2.400.876 others

landonorris Mr & Mrs Sainz wedding was kinda fire🔥🔥🔥

see all comments

user1 FERNANDO?? GEORGE?

user2 ehmmm have you seen CHARLES?

user3 How much alcohol was ingested omg

ynraces too much and yet not enough!!

user3 omg!!! girl CONGRATS!! I LOVE YOUR HUSBAND AND YOUR BABYYY

ynraces thank you thank you my babys the best (sometimes the husband too)

user4 thank you lando🙏 this is what i want to see

user5 Lando said f your wife, first pic is your father and us

landonorris I HAD TO PUT ME FIRST

carlossainz55 Thought this was jpg material🤔

landonorris Naaa my besties deserve to be on the main

charles_leclerc Well it should be, because I don’t remember that last photo

landonorris Oh those aren’t even your worsts… I’ve seen things

ynraces Send them ASAP I want to remember some things

carlossainz55 Send the red bull one

scuderiaferrari Should we get worried?🤔

charles_leclerc 😐😐

ynraces LOLLLLLLL U ARE GETTING DEMOTED 😹 🫵

charles_leclerc I wish the worst to that plushie of yours, I hope he gets lost

ynraces I pray you never win another GP in your life and you bring shame to every team you race for in the next ten years

ynraces Also his name is Baby Snoopy have some respect

carlossainz55 Ok that’s enough baby😘

ynraces k bbygirl😍🩷

user6 ☝️☝️That escalated quickly

user7 nah they know damn well to not mess with the dog

user8 this is lovely😭 and the kiss… wishing them and baby Snoopy the best!

——

translations: (in order of appearance)

Hermosos mis hijos: My beautiful kids.

La mujer más guapa y especial que he podido conocer: The most special and beautiful woman that I have ever met.

Vamos chicos. Felicidades: Let’s go guys. Congratulations!

Mi puto padre: My fucking father (Direct translation of a Spanish joke! They call Alonso father in sign of respect lol)

a/n: A lot of people wanted more Snoopy! So here it is!!!! If you want to read more don’t be shy and send me asks with requests! I will be working on them when I’m not too busy with college stuff<3

[sinofwriting]

So Many Reasons - Ollie Bearman

Words: 3,344 Summary: She honestly just wants to go to these two races to see her brother so he won’t complain about never seeing her anymore that is it. She has exams, an internship, and a job, she doesn’t have time for any of this. Note(s): Thank you V once again for commissioning the fic! I had a lot of fun writing it and may or may not have spent an hour researching different business degrees and universities and such. Reader is Andrea Kimi Antonelli’s older sister. Age gap of 3 years between her and Ollie. Not good family dynamics between her and Kimi and their father.

Masterlist | Support Me!

“Andrea, no.” Her voice is firm, perhaps harsh but she doesn’t care. She was tired, hungry, and had to stay up for at least another six hours. Her last red bull in her bag sounded better every second.

“C’mon, sorella. It is my first F2 race. You can miss a few classes.”

Her jaw clenches and she forces herself to take a deep breath. Thank god this was just a phone call. “No, Andrea. I can’t. I have exams.”

“Ask for an extension.”

“Andrea,” she snaps. “Does padre know you are asking me this?”

His voice is quiet, “no.”

She sighs, pushing away her work. “How is your school work going?”

“It’s fine.”

“And the sim?”

“Good.”

It’s quiet between the two siblings.

“It’s been months since we last saw each other. Do you not miss me?”

“We saw each other at Christmas.” She reminds him but softens. “Of course I do. But I’m busy. I can’t take a few days away to go to a race, at least not one that’s not in Europe.” She looks at her planner, at the days blocked out with different colors. Purple for exams, blue for classes, yellow for work, green for work and classes, the dreaded orange for when she had both exams and work. It was filled for days, weeks, and months. “I could maybe make it for Imola.” She’d have to talk to her professors, put in her time now for work, but she didn’t have any exams the day after his feature race. “Maybe even Monaco if you can get me a spare pass.” She shouldn’t go to Monaco, not with her final exams to obtain her MBA starting just the day after the race, but she didn’t have any work those days and she could always bring her books with her.

“Really?”

She smiles at the excitement in his voice. “Really. Are you sure you want your big sister around?”

“Yes. It will be nice to have family in the paddock. Someone other than dad.”

She hums, eyes widening as they catch the time. “Let me know about the passes for the different races, okay? As soon as you get them I’ll talk to my professors.”

“I will.”

“Bye Andrea.”

“Bye.”

—

“Mr. Garcia?” She knocks on the door frame. “You asked to see me?”

He smiles, beckoning her in. “Yes. Please sit.” He gestures at the chairs in front of his desk before quickly typing something.

She sits down, smoothing the fabric of her skirt.

“I wanted to talk to you about your plans after you get your MBA.”

“I’d like to get a travel position or be able to work remotely half of the time. Then I think after ten years of doing that, I’d like to take a bigger account or two.”

He hums, looking at her consideringly. “Why the travel position?”

“I like traveling, going to different places, and when I went once before with Maria, I liked what she had to do.”

“You’re also good with languages.”

“Yes.”

“And the hybrid?”

She fidgets a little. “The same reasons really as the travel position and I like the extended hours.”

His lips twitch into a smile, “Maria hated remote.”

She nods.

“She said you’d be suited for it.”

Her leg that had started to bounce stops.

He leans forward, “I’d like to keep you on. I know that your internship with Maria ends the first week of May. And that you’re only supposed to continue to work with us until August. But I’d like to offer you the remote position, starting June 20th.”

She looks at him with a slight open mouth. “What,” she clears her throat. “What exactly would that look like?”

He pushes forward a folder. “All of the details are in there, but there are two important things. There will only be a few days every month that require you in the office. Those days are always made known at least two weeks in advance, some as much as six months.”

She nods.

“The second is you will have strict deadlines. Miss two within a three month period and you will be on probation, meaning that for a time you will be spending at least eighty hours in office for the month, until your probation is up. Look over all the details and get back to me next week.”

“Of course.” Taking the folder, she stares at it before standing. “Thank you, Mr. Garcia.”

“Of course, Ms. Antonelli.”

—

“Andrea!” She calls, seeing him looking around.

His head turns to look at her, a large grin taking over his face. “Sorella!” He calls, jogging over to her. “You made it.”

She rolls her eyes, pushing him away when he tries to give her a hug. “I told you two weeks ago I’d make it to Imola. It’s not my fault, you don’t listen.” She touches her ears before giving him a quick hug. “How are you feeling?”

“Good.”

She hums, following him as he leads her to what she assumes is Prema’s space for this race.

The good was false that was more than clear to see, if she wasn’t his sister, she’d know just by looking at the F2 races so far. Round four with no podiums? Or pole position. Her brother was surely smarting. She wondered if it had hit him yet that he wasn’t the most talented driver in this series yet.

Entering the Prema garage she smiles when Rene immediately greets her.

“How are you?”

“I’m good. Very good. How are you? How is Angelina?”

“I am good, I’m sure you saw the Indycar news.”

She nods, watching as Andrea starts talking to either a mechanic or an engineer. “I did. It sounds amazing.”

“Very amazing. And Angelina, well,” He pauses, turning his head and calling her over.

“Oh, Y/N.”

“Angelina.” She greets back, melting into the hug the older woman gives.

“How are you doing?”

“I’m doing good. And you are well?”

“Of course, it is the season.”

She smiles at her, knowing all too well how much everyone loved the motorsport season.

“Kimi!” Angelina calls and she has to stop herself from flinching at the use of his nickname. “You did not tell me that your sister was coming.”

He shrugs, “She’s coming next race as well.”

“You are coming to Monaco?”

She shrugs, adjusting her purse. “It’s my last free time before my exams and Andrea asked when I was going to come.”

Rene and Angelina share a look but before either can say anything, someone interrupts.

“Angelina, Dino and Antonio are wondering about the next shoot.”

The older woman sighs, “And neither of them could get me themselves.”

He shoots her a grin, and it’s the sight of his grin that makes her realize that this is Andrea’s teammate. “I volunteered.”

Angelina shakes her head, muttering under her breath but leaves the small group.

“Ah, Ollie, this Y/N. Y/N, this is Ollie.” Rene introduces.

She shakes his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“You as well. Are you new to the team?”

“No.” She laughs, pulling her hand from his. “Just a guest for this race and next.”

“Oh.” He looks at Rene questioningly, but the older man is already in conversation with other people. “I could give you a tour, if you’d like.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

He smiles, giving a small shrug with his shoulders. “I don’t mind.”

“Don’t you have race prep?” She can see just behind him, Andrea talking to another two people, their heads all gathered around a tablet.

“I finished mine already.”

Her lips purse.

“At least let me get you a coffee from Ferrari’s hospitality.”

Her nose nearly wrinkles at the word coffee, but Ferrari… She wasn’t into motorsports by choice, but she was Italian. She knew the allure of Ferrari and more so now Charles Leclerc than the team itself better than anyone.

“So, coffee?” He grins.

She sighs but nods. “Just one though.” She doesn’t think she could stomach another one.

“You don’t like coffee do you?” He asks nearly twenty minutes later as she sips at the coffee he got her and she chooses not to think too hard about the money she tried to hand him that he refused.

“No.” She laughs.

“But you like Ferrari.”

“I’m Italian, Ollie. I think I get kicked out of the country, especially this part if I don’t bleed rosso corsa.”

“Yet your brother is a Mercedes junior.”

She pauses, “My brother?”

His eyebrows furrow. “I’m sorry, it’s just Kimi, he has a picture of you. I asked about it once, because I already knew what his girlfriend looked like.”

“I didn’t know that.” She wondered when the picture was from. Not from this Christmas, that was for sure.

Ollie stares at her for a few seconds, something dancing in his eyes before turning the conversation back around. “It is a bit funny isn’t it? An Italian choosing Mercedes, while an Englishman chooses Ferrari.”

“A second Charles Leclerc in the making.” She muses, remembering an article that said it.

He flushes red. “I wouldn’t say that.”

She shrugs, “Then other people will for you.”

Her phone buzzing makes her look away and she rolls her eyes at the text from Andrea. “I have to go back, Andrea is looking for me. Thank you for the coffee.”

He nods, standing with her. “No problem.” He then opens his mouth again, quickly closing it.

She raises an eyebrow and he flushes a bit more.

“Could I get your number?”

“Ah.” She glances down at her phone, another text on the screen. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

She can think of a million reasons. “It’s just not a good idea.” She settles on.

“What if I want it as a friend?”

She sends him a look and he grins.

“I could do friends.”

She shakes her head, “I need to go. Thank you again.”

“Anytime.”

—

“You’re at a race.”

“Padre.” She greets, watching the screens as the sprint race goes into its fifth lap. “Andrea asked me to come.”

“You don’t like races.”

Her lips thin. “No, I don’t. But he wanted to see me, I made time.”

“Have you made time for the interview I want scheduled?”

“No.”

He starts to say her name and she shakes her head.

“No, padre. I’m here for Andrea, to see him. Just like I will be for Monaco, that is it. I have no interest in working for you.”

“For the family.”

“Or that.”

He sighs.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she winces at the way Andrea gets overtaken, can already imagine the way he’ll beat himself up over it if he doesn’t regain the position, especially with the way Ollie is in P2, no battle in sight, as he more than comfortably keeps the place.

An arm wraps around her shoulders and she easily goes into her fathers side. “I miss my little girl.”

She bites back on the words that want to crawl from her throat. “Love you too.”

—

“So,” she startles at the sound of a voice and the owner of it grins. “You don’t like coffee.”

“Hello, Ollie.”

“Hi.” He greets back. “You don’t like coffee.” He repeats.

“I don’t like coffee.” She can’t help but smile at the way he grins at her responding to him.

“What about,” he pauses looking around, before leaning closer and lowering his voice. “Red bull?”

“I’m listening.”

She has to stop herself from giggling as Ollie leads her through Ferrari’s garage. She really shouldn’t be here. And not just because she shouldn’t even be at the race.

Stopping in front of a door, she watches as Ollie knocks, sending her a grin as he does.

“Hello?” The voice is a little confused. “Ollie! Come in, come in.”

And Ollie grabs her hand, intertwining their fingers as he pulls her into the room with him. “Hi Charles.”

Her eyes widen at the name and she quickly schools her expression though neither are looking at her.

“What are you doing here?”

Ollie grins at the older man. “I wanted to introduce you to someone and raid your fridge.”

Charles rolls his eyes. “At least you don’t ask permission anymore.”

The tease makes her stiffen, this was a lot more than she felt she should be seeing or hearing.

“No, I learned.” Ollie laughs and then he’s tugging her closer. “Charles, this is Y/N.” A bit of tension leaves her when he doesn’t say her last name. “Y/N, this is Charles.”

“Bonjour.” She greets, keeping her free hand firmly by her side as she wiggles her fingers in Ollie’s hand, but he just brushes his thumb over her knuckles.

Charles’ eyes brighten at the greeting. “Bonjour. Est-ce un accent italien que j'entends?” (“Hello. Is that an Italian accent I hear?”) “Oui. Je suis italienne et je vis actuellement en France.” (“Yes. I am Italian currently living in France.”) His grin widens. “Oh, très bien. Votre français est bon.” (“Oh, very nice. Your French is good.”) She ducks her head. “Merci.” (“Thank you.”)

“I didn’t know you spoke French.” Ollie says.

She gives him a look. It should make his smile falter a little, but it only grows.

“An Italian living in France. A bit uncommon, no?” Charles asks, handing her then Ollie a Red Bull. Before grabbing one for himself.

“I study there.”

“What are you studying?” Ollie asks, “Ki,” he stops himself. “Andrea never said.”

Her eyes narrow at the catch, wondering why exactly he did it. “Accounting. And I’m not surprised. If it’s not something racing related, my brother has no interest.”

Charles laughs. “I think Lorenzo and you would get along well. Having siblings that live and breath racing while you don’t.”

“Maybe.”

“Are you close to getting your degree?”

“I am actually. My final exams start Monday.”

“And you came to the Monaco Grand Prix?” Charles’ eyes are wide.

“Yes.”

“My goodness.” He looks at Ollie, winking at him. “This one is a keeper.”

“Oh,” she says, feeling blood rush to her cheeks and Ollie is turning pink. “We aren’t.”

He shrugs, taking a drink of his red bull. “Maybe not yet.” His eyes then fall to their still intertwined fingers and she gives another tug to Ollie’s hand, expecting him now to let go, but he doesn’t.

“No, not yet.”

—

“What race are you coming to next?”

Her hand tingles at the sound of Ollie’s voice. “I’m not.”

“What?”

She turns to face him. “Andrea wanted me at the first race of the season, but I couldn’t make it, so I said I’d come to these two.” She doesn’t mention that the want of her coming was because he apparently missed her. She had her doubts about that, especially after this weekend.

“You don’t think he’ll ask you to come again?”

She looks around, seeing no one nearby, she sighs. “Even if he did, I wouldn’t come. I love my brother, but not on race weekends, not during the season. I’ve seen you more than him.”

Ollie’s face that had looked shocked, turns to understanding. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

She shrugs. “He’s busy.”

Ollie looks like he wants to argue, but he doesn’t.

Instead he leans a bit closer, “so, could I get your number now?”

She laughs, shaking her head. “No. Still not happening.”

“Oh, c’mon. I won today. This is the one thing I want as the Monaco F2 feature race winner.”

She shakes her head. “Maybe, if you actually wanted it as a friend. I’d say yes.”

“And why can’t we be more than friends?”

He’s closer now somehow and she has to swallow around the lump in her throat. “Ollie,”

Her name spills from his lips in a gentle sigh as he leans ever closer.

“We can’t.” She whispers, hand against his chest, holding him in place.

“Why? Give me one good reason why.”

He’s guiding her backwards, down the short hallway and into a room that’s thankfully empty, the door shutting behind him.

“One good reason.”

“You’re Andrea’s teammate.”

“For nine more weekends.”

She lets out a shaky breath, watching as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “I’m busy with school and work.”

“You have final exams this week, which you’ll pass. And I’m busy with work as well.”

“You’re younger than me. I’m twenty-two, you just turned nineteen.”

He shrugs, her eyes following the strong line of shoulders with the movement. “I’m an adult. And I like you.”

“Ollie.” She breathes.

He’s closer than ever before, their lips nearly brushing. “I’m still waiting.”

Her eyes scan his face, his words full of confidence, his body too, but he’s flushed and his nervousness is easy to read. And she delivers the reason that has to make him see reason. Because she doesn’t know if he stays this close to her if she can stop herself from kissing him. “Your parents,” his throat bobs. “Would never approve.”

He looks at her and she looks back, holding her breath, waiting for him to back away but he doesn’t, and god when does Ollie ever do things she expects. “They don’t need to.” He whispers and then he’s kissing her.

—

“What are you talking about?”

“Andrea,”

“No.” He stops her, shaking her head. “What do you mean, you are seeing Oliver?” He spits the name out.

“Don’t, Andrea.”

“NO!” His face is red and she’s reminded of the times when he wanted candy that she had and threw a fit over not getting it instead. “He is, he is,” he shakes his head. “I don’t even know what he is. He is my teammate, he works in motorsports, you hate motorsports.”

She keeps quiet, watching as her brother processes the news.

“He is younger than you, barely older than me. And you.” He shakes his head again. “Does padre know?”

She scoffs, now shaking her head. “Does padre know? That’s all you care about isn’t it. If our father approves or not, if you know what he thinks, because heaven forbid Kimi,” he flinches at the name. “You think for yourself.”

“That is not.”

“Don’t.” She cuts him off. “Yes, he knows. Don’t worry he disapproves as well. So, you don’t have to think for yourself again.”

She stares at her younger brother, knowing that this is her fault, but she can’t, she still doesn’t have it in her to deal with it, not today. “I will talk to you sometime, Andrea.”

—

“Your fans are lovely.”

Ollie makes a humming sound, half asleep.

She pauses her scrolling on twitter, unable to stop herself from liking the picture of Charles’ dog in his own personal little car. “Your fans. Very creative as well. They can’t call me a gold digger, but a fame seeker? Well, if the shoe fits.”

“They what?”

He sounds so much more awake, it makes her laugh. “It’s just hate, Ollie. I’m an old woman praying on the young. Apparently I’m like Piquet.”

“Ew.” And she can picture his nose wrinkling. “You know you aren’t though right?”

“An old woman?” She jokes.

“A predator.”

She softens, turning in his arms, so that they are chest to chest. “I know.”

“I mean, really if anything I was.”

“You were very insistent.”

He flushes. “Only a little.”

She nods, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Only a little.”

“I know we talked about it before, but are you okay with everything?”

“Yes. I mean, it hurts that Andrea is still not okay with it but my father’s opinion has not mattered to me in a long time. And no matter what the media and fans were never going to give us peace, so I made my peace with that as well. Besides, your parents are okay with it.”

“They love you.”

“Our friends are understanding.”

“They are.”

“And you aren’t about to dedicate any more podiums to me.”

He grins at her and dread starts to form in her stomach.

“Ollie…”

“About that last one.”

“Ollie!”

[roosterforme]

Lol, can you imagine Jake being like totally defensive about being the best father in the Dagger Squad in the Mr. Right Now Universe? Like one of the others would say how they are the best dad ever and then Jake would be like "do you rub your children's feet?" and the other Dagger you be like "...errrr... no?" and Jake wojld be just like "that's what I thought".

Another foot rub spin-off!

"I got Padres tickets for my kids for this weekend," Reuben said with a smile in the locker room. "Top tier entertainment. Best dad in the world."

Jake rolled his eyes. He took you and the boys to the Padres home opener months ago. But it was all the little things, in his opinion, that made him a good dad. Not the big stuff.

"Do you rub their feet?" he muttered to himself. But a second later, it was clear the rest of the guys had heard him.

"Huh?" Reuben asked. "Wait, you rub your kids feet?"

Jake scoffed. "Of course I do. And I make them homemade heart-shaped red velvet pancakes every Sunday morning. And I check under both beds for monsters at least twice before they go to sleep."

Reuben rubbed his chin. "Can you send me your pancake recipe?"

The guys all chipped in to get Jake and Reuben matching #1 DAD mugs.

[aricastmblr]

mewsuppasit instagram stories

🙏🙏 Mew’s Ordination Day

ติดต่อสอบถามเรื่องบวชในวันนี้ 0957749495 , 0867853936 🙇🏻‍♂️

paclinkk peamq nu__ khun.lp.makeup fotosuck tukky66 mackay_morkay5509 jjjjommm cr.fotos thai media

[nevenkebla]

Bendito sea su corazón

Fantastic Four vs. X-Men (1987) #3 Chris Claremont (Escritor), Jon Bogdanove (Dibujante)

— Reed Richards: (No puedo seguir así. Para cada desafío, para cada crisis, siempre he encontrado la respuesta. Pero, ¿De qué sirve mi intelecto supuestamente simpar… cuando la gente que más aprecio ha perdido la fe en mí? No tengo ni idea de cómo restaurarla… ¡O aún peor, de si debería intentarlo! ¿Franklin…? Pobrecillo… ¿Estás teniendo una pesadilla? Serías un niño normal si no me hubiera convertido en Mr. Fantastic. Te han pasado tantas cosas horribles solo porque tus padres son miembros de los Cuatro Fantásticos.) — Franklin Richards: ¿Papá…? — Reed Richards: (¿Podrías perdonarme por eso?) — Franklin Richards: Tengo miedo, papá. Me alegro de que estés aquí. Te quiero, papá.

— Reed Richards: Los niños que están en edad de crecer tienen que dormir, jovencito, y sus sueños deberían ser felices. — Franklin Richards: Los míos no. — Reed Richards: ¿Sabes lo que hacía mi padre hace mucho tiempo, Franklin, cuando tenía su edad y el señor de las pesadillas me visitaba? — Franklin Richards: No. — Reed Richards: Me sentaba sobre las piernas y me contaba un cuento. ¿Quieres que te cuente uno? — Franklin Richards: Sí. — Reed Richards: ¿Cuál, me pregunto? ¿Qué tal…? “¿El elefante gordito?” — Franklin Richards: ¡Es mi favorito! — Reed Richards: “Y… entonces, el elefante gordito dijo…” — Susan Storm: (¡¿Franklin?! ¡Y Reed! Será mejor que me haga invisible, no quiero interrumpirles. Hacía siglos que no oía reírse así a Franklin. Ni a Reed, tampoco. Bendito sea su corazón.)

[nanacuyin]

Tenía tiempo queriendo hacer esto al percatarme que no existía ningún tipo de "árbol genealógico" para la familia de Policarpo cuando, irónicamente, esta parece ser la más variada en todo el programa, por lo cual aquí vienen algunas de mis propuestas para su familia.

Empecé con alguna incógnitas acerca de quien era familiar de quién, para ser más específicos habían unas como: ¿La abuela de Coágula era hermana de Policarpo o esposa de su hermano? ¿Lo mismo aplica para la mamá de los Guarennes? O talvez no sean tres hijos y simplemente sean dos, generando que los hermanos Guarennes ya no sean tios lejanos de Coágula, sino tios cercanos siendo hermanos directos de algunos de los padres de Coágula. Esto generó el siguiente concepto.

Para resolver estás incógnitas hice un analisis a la lógica de 31 minutos y las "razas" de títeres, siendo 3 en especial

Los títeres animales, títeres basados en especies tanto como animales reales y animales fantasioso como bodoque, Tulio, Mario Hugo o Juanin.

Los títeres humanos, siendo la obvia con titeres como el tío pelado, tío Horacio, La Corchetis, Freddy Turbina y el mismo Policarpo.

Los títeres de objetos, siendo marionetas directamente de objetos como lo son Balón von bola, Mr. Guantecillo, Los hermanos computadores, Sr. Manguera, etc.

Esto nos ayuda a partir por el hecho de que es complicado que sean diferentes los hijos a sus padres en tema de razas de titeres, en capítulos como "La madre" se nos muestra como todos guardan un parentesco con sus madres y en el episodio "el meteorito" se nos enseña como es noticia el híbrido de un matrimonio de diferentes animales títeres.

Por lo cual, es fácil llegar al punto y entender que en ese mundo es difícil que características de ambos padres se vean reflejadas en un mismo hijo siendo, lo más probable, que tengan parezcan con un solo un padre (como en los humanos pero más complicado lol) y, en caso de que no se parezcan, esto sea debido a un gen recesivo.

Dejándonos con el árbol genealógico que dibuje anteriormente donde:

La mamá de policarpo es un titere de cascanueces y su padre podría ser un titere común de tela, ambos siendo representaciones de humanos.

Policarpo tiene minimo dos hermanos que son títeres humanos de tela y él es el único que se parece a su madre, siendo tal vez la razón por la cual su madre lo sobreprotege (también está encima de la mesa que él sea el menor de los tres o, como mínimo, el hermano de enmedio).

Su papá al ser de tela y un humano (muy probablemente) puede llegar a darnos un incentivo a que Freddy Turbina junto a La Corchetis sean de la familia paterna, sin embargo, de la última al ser familia lejana podría ser, de igual forma, de la familia materna.

La mamá de los Guarennes y la abuela de Coágula son esposas de los hermanos de Policarpo y el sería el único que, en "teoría" no ha tenido hijos.

Y así termina, siento que estos son conceptos de las pocas cosas que se, idk, si llegue a olvidarme de algo lo siento mucho.

Por error publique esto antes de tiempo, pensaba subirlo a medio día, pero lo terminé subiendo a las 2 a.m. En fin, espero que esto no afecte al algoritmo y esas cosas.

[maarigolds]

Amadeus annuncia Giorgia che annuncia Mr Rain che annuncia Alfa che al mercato mio padre compró