#it'd be really useful for me to hear it

[squeaky-n-blushy]

Hi! If we've ever interacted directly, even if it was just once, would you tell me what your first impression (or impression in general) of me was, please? For self-awareness purposes I'd really really like to know how I come across.

Like, was I too much? Was I lacking in energy? What's the vibe?

[snekdood]

anyways ppl with vaginas are amazing and not inherently less than anyone with a penis and if you disagree you can jump off a bridge <3

[bumblingbabooshka]

I hate when Chakotay is watered down to be Janeway's yes man because their disagreements are actually very interesting. [A lot of rambling analysis of this debate in particular below]

Chakotay in Parallax is very interesting in that he has to navigate a lot of different dynamics. Balance a lot of plates while being watched keenly by everyone around him. Immediately preceding this scene we see him ask B'Elanna for her opinion on the bridge - both as a chance to show her knowledge in his bid to make her chief engineer (because she wouldn't get a chance to otherwise as Janeway has clearly indicated that at this point she views B'Elanna as a troublemaker who won't be considered for the position) and because he just thinks she's a better engineer than Carey and wants the best possible chance of them succeeding. Janeway sees this as unacceptable. Carey is the chief engineer and so he should be called and Chakotay NOT asking for his opinion is an insult to Carey, Janeway, and might make the crew doubt Chakotay (and by extension the Maquis') loyalty to the Starfleet crew.

At this point it seems that to Janeway integration ["They're not your people"] means the path of least resistance, specifically tailored towards the Starfleet crew. She wants Chakotay by her side to keep the Maquis crew calm but also seems unwilling to consider them for important positions aboard the ship. Though she says that the Maquis are not Chakotay's people, not his crew, she certainly doesn't seem to consider them hers [Compare this to later instances where she stresses 'our' crew, here she simply says they aren't Chakotay's: Whose crew are they? Are they crew at all?]. This less leaves the impression of "We need to be a cohesive team" and more "You're not in charge here." She essentially accuses Chakotay of playing favorites. In her mind Chakotay's actions are not conducive to integrating the crews which would (again, in her mind) mean the Maquis being docile and accepting, obedient and content - not making trouble for the Starfleet crew. Chakotay counters Janeway's accusation with one of his own: That he IS trying to integrate them into the crew but her not allowing the Maquis any opportunity to prove themselves or succeed, not showing any trust in any of them (except, implicitly at this point, him) is making things difficult. At this point the Maquis crew are ready to mutiny on his word at any time. He knows this for a fact. Aside from that looming threat (the threat being that tensions are high and if nothing changes and they remain high there might be a mutiny even without his word) - Chakotay knows these people and trusts them. Though Starfleet and Janeway think of the Maquis as a violent bunch of criminal terrorists, Chakotay and a good number of the Maquis joined because they believed in the cause they were fighting for. These are people Chakotay knows WILL fight fiercely for what they believe in and conversely, AGAINST what they perceive as injustice. Even if they're not in the majority - they're used to picking fights which seem impossible to win. At this point Janeway admits that she ISN'T making it easy for Chakotay to integrate the Maquis - specifically talking about practical concerns; how she doesn't feel she can let Maquis crew have roles of importance on the ship because they lack the ability to hold them. "They don't have the discipline, they don't have the training," - asserting that they just aren't prepared for any such roles and it doesn't have to do with them being Maquis specifically. Ostensibly, she's treating them as she might treat anyone unqualified for the job.

Chakotay maintains that some of them, like B'Elanna, have the ability to be trained - challenging her point by saying that IF they're trained there's no reason for any Maquis member NOT to be given a more prominent role on the ship. He isn't suggesting they just unqualified people important jobs. If the problem is that they aren't trained, let's train them. These people have the ability to succeed if you give them the tools they need and a fair chance, he insists. Janeway then switches gears and her argument becomes not "The Maquis are untrained so they can't be given those jobs" but "The Maquis crew are unworthy of those jobs when compared to Starfleet personnel" saying that it'll cause insult and upset among the Starfleet crew if any member of the Maquis were to be promoted above them. Again, her idea of integration is based more on Maquis subservience to the Starfleet crew than it is the two crews working together. (Not that I believe she looks at it that way, it's just where her 'path of least resistance' leads) - though she accuses Chakotay of being too focused on "his" crew, she is admitting here that she believes her real crew are the Starfleet officers aboard, not the Maquis. She also admits here that the system she wishes to maintain (and is asking Chakotay to enforce) is one where there will ostensibly never be any chance of a Maquis crew member being promoted because no Maquis crew member will ever be more qualified, more worthy, than a member of Starfleet. We can see how it'd be difficult for Chakotay to convince his crew to remain calm under these circumstances. There's also Tuvok's behavior toward him at the beginning of the episode where the Vulcan nearly goes over Chakotay's head and when he doesn't do so (as Chakotay reminds him that HE'S the superior officer, the First Officer in fact,) Tuvok acts as if him backing down (partially) and conceding (partially) to Chakotay's authority is a favor to Chakotay.

Tuvok in this conversation is downright insubordinate to Chakotay. Despite Chakotay being the first officer, he doesn't take what he says seriously, argues that his own opinion on what should be done should be followed rather than Chakotay's, lectures the first officer about his conduct, and then almost seems to threaten him with a report. In Starfleet's rigidly hierarchical rules, acting like this to a superior officer (ESPECIALLY the first officer) wouldn't be tolerated and Tuvok knows this perfectly well. He isn't a rebellious character and clearly in other episodes adheres to these Starfleet hierarchies and codes of conduct very strictly. He values them highly. But Chakotay, a Maquis, shouldn't be First Officer. Why should he be given respect for a title he didn't earn? [Affirming Janeway's argument about how Starfleet officers won't be eager to follow a Maquis senior officer] Even though Chakotay tells Tuvok off for it ["I don't have to explain myself to you"] he doesn't threaten to put Tuvok on report or explicitly mention his insubordination. It's unclear if this is Chakotay's personality or if he just doesn't feel he CAN do that. Tuvok is one of the three most senior officers aboard and very close to Janeway. Chakotay has to think of the optics of any situation at all times - we see seconds after this conversation that rumors have already started swirling around B'Elanna being relegated to quarters that've fanned the flames of mutiny. Though we know Tuvok has personal reasons for behaving the way he does toward Chakotay (which he later admits), I really don't think it'd be out of the ordinary for this to be how most Starfleet personnel would treat the Maquis if they weren't outright hostile: Like they're only pretend crewmen. To a lesser extent we even see this with Janeway: In the following staff meeting, she clearly doesn't consider B'Elanna a viable option when Chakotay brings her up and almost ignores the suggestion entirely.

It also, again, leaves Chakotay in an impossible position. If he doesn't protect and fight for the Maquis crew, they won't ever be considered a true part of the crew and dissatisfaction will likely spread among them. Dissatisfaction which the Starfleet crew will then use to further label the Maquis as insubordinate, uncontrollable, unfit. Not to mention that if he doesn't advocate for them, he might lose their trust. However, if he DOES try to help the Maquis crew advance the Starfleet crew will view this as 'favoritism' and will further distrust him, won't respect the people he puts forth as worthy. Janeway seems to be intent on not advocating for any of the Maquis crew and also seems unwilling to ask that the Starfleet crew grant leniency. She implies that the Maquis crew need to learn to get in line and keep quiet and it seems almost like [we must remember the optics] she has Chakotay as the only Maquis in a position of power to facilitate that. Chakotay recognizes and pushes against that, saying that he won't just be her token Maquis - there only so she can point to him and say "See? We don't discriminate against the Maquis here." effectively a tool used to shut down any arguments of unfair treatment and a tool to quell the Maquis if any talk of mutiny DOES arise. In this model, Janeway can just tell Chakotay to calm them down and they'll listen because they trust him. She also doesn't have to really listen to anything he says: A token First Officer has no authority; his words don't hold weight. [Chakotay isn't Maquis anymore, they aren't his crew anymore - ok. What is he then? What are they? Nothing, without respect.] This plan seems untenable, as much as Janeway frames it as sensible: "I can't make it easy, Commander. Surely you can understand that," and alternatives as impossible "How am I supposed to ask them to accept a Maquis as their superior officer just because circumstances have forced us together?" - in the long run, how would this be sustainable? In any power structure, you cannot expect a group of people you're unwilling to grant trust or agency to obediently follow you forever. This proposed form of 'integration' in which the Maquis are kept on the bottom rung and told intermittently to stay there quietly by the only one of them granted permission to stand at the top would never be sustainable - especially with a group like the Maquis who again, were founded on the belief that its members should fight against inequity and are already on the verge of mutiny.

I specifically find the statement "How am I supposed to ask them to accept a Maquis as their superior officer just because circumstances have forced us together?" to be interesting because personally I'd say that being forced together for the rest of almost everyone's natural life is a pretty good reason to ask people to adapt and Janeway does understand this but only applies it to the Maquis - the Maquis are the ones who have to adapt, not Starfleet. The only thing the Starfleet crew have to do is tolerate their presence on board.

At this point Janeway again claims that if Chakotay can show her a 'qualified' Maquis candidate she'll consider them. I believe this is true but we already know that Janeway's standards for qualification will likely not fit the vast majority of the Maquis and Chakotay ignores the claim in favor of putting forth B'Elanna again, firmly. Janeway predictably dismisses her as unqualified and Chakotay disagrees, arguing that he knows her. He's worked with her. He KNOWS that B'Elanna can excel at the job even if she doesn't meet Starfleet/Janeway's qualifications. He doesn't value those qualifications over what he's observed about her - just as he didn't value Carey's title over what he knew about the gap between his and B'Elanna's abilities. Then, Chakotay switches gears. He admits that Janeway's right - he does view the Maquis as his crew but that's because Janeway (almost self admittingly) doesn't and if he doesn't, who will they have? [What kind of captain, kind of man, would he be?] "You're going to have to give them more authority if you want their loyalty." "Theirs or yours, Commander?" Janeway frames Chakotay's words pointing out the flaws in this plan which I outlined earlier, as almost a threat (if she doesn't have Chakotay's loyalty it'll most definitely mean mutiny). Chakotay asserts that it wasn't a threat, he's only trying to help by telling her how the Maquis crew will react to what she's telling him. "I'm sorry you can't see that" - not an apology for what he said but that she isn't willing to budge, not willing to listen to him and acknowledge that she might be as biased towards her crew as he is towards his. Chakotay is trying his best to acclimate his crew but if Janeway isn't willing to do the same, to talk to her people as he's talking to his, then this will not end well and that isn't a threat. It's just the reality of the situation. He then asks permission to leave, showing he is willing to observe Starfleet protocol (just as when he asked permission to speak freely), and Janeway lets him go, exhaling at the intensity of their debate when alone in her ready room.

[ourceliumnetwork]

been thinking about all the various Events i've been through in my life that involved my head being knocked around and starting to think maybe there were a lot of times I should have gone to the doctor for potential head trauma and didn't

[shrinevandal]

one thing that's frustrating but also really sad about the "queer isn't a slur nowadays and has never been one, actually" crowd is the way they completely miss the point of reclaiming it. if queer is a benign word and always has been (provably false obviously, but just to play their game for a second) then what's even the point of identifying with it? you're taking an act of courage and bravery by flipping the meaning of a word used against us on its head, by standing up loudly and proudly and going "yeah guess what? i AM abnormal, i AM unconventional, and there's nothing wrong with that", and instead watering it down to "heh... i'm just such a weirdo aren't i.... i'm not like other gays.... teehee" like it's honestly just really sad to me. the point of reclaiming queer should be to denounce the cisheteronormative fallacy that there is a "right way" to exist, and to honor the people that came before us who were called that and much worse and didn't let it stop them from fighting.

but saying that fight didn't even happen... to me that's somehow worse than using it against people who are uncomfortable with the word. because harassing people and not listening to their boundaries is awful obviously, but what's even worse is denying your own pride and spitting on the efforts of the people who came before us. you go from being shitty to one person to being shitty to an entire community. i just honestly don't get it. does this fulfill you?

[neathbound-fiends]

not fl related but lol + also lmao. Almost forgot I have an appointment w the audiologist again tomorrow after work

[relicsongmel]

Being a music-based synesthete with absolute pitch is wonderful but so frustrating because the vast majority of people have no context for the way I experience music and thus whenever I try to explain it it makes no sense to them. What do you mean you can't tell what color this song is. What do you mean you don't hear a Bb minor chord and feel your body react to it before your brain does. What do you mean you can't feel the warm sunbeams of D major dancing across your face. My world is filled with musical color but even if people think it's cool they will never really see it and it makes me sad

[sincerely-sofie]

I'm not sure how weird of a question it would be to ask, or if it's one i should ask, but if you could choose to hallucinate one of them again without any kind of drawbacks just to talk with them, would you? And who would you talk to?

Not a weird question at all, and it's one I've actually asked myself a lot over the years! If I were able to hallucinate one of my old Brain Roommates™️ again, but without the intense anxiety that is required for me to hallucinate in the first place or the actual damage to my brain that hallucinations do, I'd be very, very interested in it. However, my answer for who I would speak to in this hypothetical scenario has changed throughout the years.

Originally, I wanted to talk to the Black Clock. He was the most consistently distressing hallucination, and was a sort of manifestation of my intense perfectionism and high standards for myself. I wanted to ask him if I was enough. It was a question that haunted me for years, and either answer scared me. If I was enough, then that meant I wasn't living up to my potential and that I was "sinful, irredeemable filth" according to the script I told myself back then. If I wasn't enough, then I didn't deserve anything good and I was an active blight on all that I loved, somehow. Nowadays I don't have anything to say to him. I'm enough for myself and I'm enough for God. The opinion of some misfiring synapses doesn't matter.

After that, I wanted to speak to the Red Woman. She expressed remorse after I found my first set of medications that partially stopped me from hallucinating, and she apologized for what she put me through and told me goodbye. I held her the night I took those medications while she cried and said she was scared to die. I never saw or heard from her again, at least as a hallucination. I wanted to tell her I forgave her and that I hoped she was okay, wherever she was. I don't have that same anxiety over the speculative mortality of the voices in my head anymore, so I wouldn't say I would want to talk to her again. There's not much point to it in my eyes. She hurt me and said she was sorry. That's a full sentence. I don't need to open it up for anything else.

Later on, I wanted to talk to the Lime Hands because, in a very bizarre exchange, he expressed to me he was depressed and didn't want to exist. I wanted to see if he was feeling any better, as strange as it was to ask that of a hallucination. Now, though, I hate that freak and make no apologies for what the dang thing put me through, and the only way I'd want to reunite with him is in some wonderland scenario where I could tangibly interact with him. And that's only because I'm punching that sucker's teeth in and breaking his pinky fingers.

As for the present day answer: If I were to choose any of my hallucinations to speak to without consequence, I think I'd like to speak to Doc Brown, or the Marigold Girl.

Doc Brown was the most cordial of the hallucinations and actually stepped in to advocate for me on occasion when the pain was really bad. I liked him a lot. He was a friend to me when I had very few people to talk to. We joked together and he gave me advice and words of comfort during some of the worst nights of my life. I think it'd be fun, in a very surreal way, to catch up with him— ask him how he's doing, how he's been, if he and the Marigold Girl are still buddies and if the Red Woman and him ever got over the hump of their flirtatious hatred for each other and actually became an item. It'd be a nice little send off to the guy. He was one of the first hallucinations I stopped experiencing, and his disappearance was very abrupt. I'd like to be able to say goodbye properly, thank him for his help, and smile and kindly say I hope I never see him again.

(also, the guy's whole shtick was anxiety over disease / contamination and the possibility of me infecting others with whatever bug I caught at the time. I stopped hallucinating him WAY before 2020 and I think he would lose his mind if I told him about COVID-19. That was his time to shine and he missed it. Poor thing.)

The Marigold Girl was a very difficult figure for me to handle when I was hallucinating. On the one hand, she was a lovely, if somewhat unsettling, little girl. She liked it when I read books and explained the plots to her. She always wanted to be held. She was scared of the dark. She adored my stuffed animals and would whisper to them while I was trying to sleep. I enjoyed being around her for the most part, but she was a very weepy hallucination, and the Black Clock would deal out punishment without fail whenever she cried— it was always my fault somehow, and so I suffered the consequences of her being a bit of a crybaby.

Looking back, I feel bad for her. She was a good kid, or at least as good of a kid as an unhealthy cocktail of neurochemicals in a weary brain can be. She once said she didn't want to cry all the time and wished she knew how to stop because I got in trouble because of it. I think it would be nice to comfort her and tell her it wasn't her fault that I'd be hurt. She couldn't control things anymore than I could back then.

I'd really like to show her the new stuffed animals I've collected over the years and read her one of the short stories I've written. I think she'd like Winter Came and Went if she didn't have to worry about the consequences of crying during the sad parts. She'd definitely enjoy Bibbidy Bee Goes to the Library. If possible, I'd like to ask what her favorite color is. I think she'd have a lot of fun answering, and I'd like being able to get to know this part of my psyche that was scared to let herself show any sadness for fear of hurting others with it.

[enchantedsugden]

i genuinely cannot get over the wording of the scum's article - they're stressing everything that's been done to keep robert's return a secret - literally saying that nothing was seen as to extreme to keep it under wraps and then they're like until we revealed this fans were none the wiser, no shit but why did you then

[lumsel]

"The prophecy was unambiguous and immutable."

"I know."

"No weapon forged on Earth could defeat the Lord Baarthus"

"I know."

"And yet here we are, you telling me, Lord Baarthus was struck down by the Peasant King. Wielding... just a regular sword. Forged on Earth."

"I know what I saw, okay! The Peasant King walked up to him, shoved the sword in his neck, and then just kept going. It was nasty!"

"Okay, okay, fine. Clearly what's happened here is there's some kind of loophole in the prophecy that enabled this. Happens all the time. No weapon forged on Earth... How sure are you that sword is of this world?"

"What do you take me for? I've done my research. Even tracked down, interviewed the original blacksmith."

"There must be something. Prophecies can't be wrong!"

"I mean... I didn't take stock of her inventory. If it was one of those meteorite swords..."

"No, no. The prophecy didn't say 'No weapon with parts sourced on Earth'. It was pretty specific about the Forging."

"I don't hear anything better coming from you!"

"How about this. What if it wasn't a weapon? The Peasant King... it'd only be fitting for him to slay the Dark Lord with a blade meant for peasantry! Not a weapon, but a farming tool, like a scythe, or a really long trowel--!"

"A long trowel?? It looked like a damn sword!"

"That doesn't mean anything! A ritzy, college-educated diviner like you, you wouldn't know a trowel from a ploughshare!"

"It had a hilt, and a pommel, and it went in a scabbard-- come on! Even if it was some kind of-- newfangled grass cutter I've never heard of, it was used as a weapon, and it was forged to be a weapon! I've seen the ledgers!"

"Clearly you screwed something up, madam, because the Lord Baarthus just got sliced up like an old dairy cow and the prophecy very clearly specifies the only instrument that could bring his end is--!! Oh. Ohhh. Oh, gods damn it."

"What?"

"Fucking... 'forged on earth'."

"Yes, and?"

"It wasn't forged on earth. It was forged on a fucking anvil."

"What? No, you're-- you're joking. That wouldn't-- that couldn't-- what weapon would be forged on earth, by that definition!!?"

"I hate prophecies so much..."

[shadowed-yet-vibrant]

Adding the fact that I'm a lawyer to every possibly relevant tag ramble to somehow convince myself that maybe I am in fact a lawyer.

[intoxicating-goddess]

TW - intox, somno, cnc, forced breeding

We're talking on a video call like we usually do in the evenings. I'm smoking a bowl to help wind down for the night. When I finish, you suggest I might want to do another. I've been really stressed out lately, it'd be helpful to have a little more, you tell me. I have been stressed lately, why not? I fill another bowl half way, but you convince me to make it another full one. After I'm done the second bowl, you can see how faded I am. I tell you that the weed is hitting me really hard and I think I'm gonna go lie down. You wish me well and say goodnight. I stumble through the house in a stoned haze, eventually making it into bed. I drowsily strip myself of my clothes before rolling over and falling asleep. I'm too deep in slumber to hear the door unlock. I gave you a spare key for emergencies, after all. You creep into my bedroom and see my naked body sprawled across the bed. You quietly take off your clothes and climb on top of me. Kissing your way down my back while running your hands all over my limp body. Feeling up my ass and tits and then finally, my pussy. I let out soft moans in my sleep. As you rub my clit and fondle my ass, I start to become wet. You then line yourself up with my slick entrance and ram your entire cock inside me. I wake with a scream, a concoction of panic and pleasure. As you begin violently thrusting, I try to get my bearings. My head is so dizzy and my body is so heavy. I let out a feeble scream as I try to resist, but it's no use. My body is far to weak and I can't put up a fight. I am pinned in place by the weight of your body on top of me. I have no idea who is inside me, but I can't seem to focus on anything but how good it feels. You lean down on top of me and begin grabbing at my breast. You pinch my nipple and I can't help but let out a moan. You chuckle softly between grunts, you know a filthy whore like me likes being used. Your thrusts are so hard and deep that it doesn't take long for me to cum on your cock. You continue to fuck me for what feels like hours. I am so out of it that I have no concept of time. I eventually let myself drown in the pleasure. It doesn't matter who is fucking me, the only thing that matters is how good it feels. After you've lost track of how many times you've made me to cum, you feel yourself get close. Your thrusts become faster and faster. You pull my hips hard against you, forcing your cock as deep into my pussy as possible. With a loud grunt, you let your load out inside me. You pull out and let my hips go, causing me to slump onto the bed. You watch as your seed seeps out of my throughly used pussy. You then put your clothes back on and leave, locking the door behind you. I lay in the wet patch knowing I should feel mortified, but instead I feel euphoric. Having my rapists seed pouring from my violated pussy turns me on all the more. It's not long before the exhaustion and intoxication lull me back into a deep sleep. I sleep well knowing my only purpose is to be a good cocksleeve. It doesn't matter if I'm conscious or not.

[cherie-doll]

COD men and they've accidentally hurt their SO? Either physically (like they accidentally stepped on their foot) or misspoke and accidentally insulted their SO?

i would like to apologize for how long it's taking me to get through asks and just updating in general, i wanna SCREAMMM

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: They Accidentally Hurt You

≻ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Price

He came back home tired and so out of his mind he wasn't really giving you much attention, normally he would be basking in your presence quietly, having you sitting on his lap as he was just glad to be back with you

This time however, it seemed like he wasn't really taking you into account when he didn't listen to what you were saying, greeted you only with a small kiss and went straight to bed, you were left feeling hurt because you had told him you had food ready for him and he didn't seem to hear you and went to sleep

Swallowing your feelings, you went to go clean up and put away his boots left by the door and his other belongings

It wasn't until tomorrow that he noticed you were too quiet and upon realizing what he did apologized for accidentally pushing you away, he knew that him being tired wasn't going to cut it for hurting you, he should've valued what you had prepared for him and so he wouldn't stop telling you how good of a partner you are and how lucky he was to have someone like you he could come home to

Ghost

You're used to his personality and though he may seem a little distant at times it's not because he doesn't love you or you're growing apart, it's just because he still needs time to himself, he enjoys having alone time

Still, because of what he's gone through, although he's put most of it behind and in the past it resurfaces at times, it takes him by surprise too when he unintentionally pulls back harshly against your outstretched hand placed on his arm, it was meant to be comforting but it took you by surprise

His eyes widened seeing your hurt expression and how quickly you tried to hide it as your hand retreat and you turning to leave, without really thinking, he held you back by your arm and without so much as a word leaving his lips, asked you to stay next to him

He did need you, and he had to learn some way or another that he needed to stop preventing the people who cared for him from being there for him at his worst and ugliest moments, it was sort of an apology

Soap

You two play fight so much that it's not unusual for one of you to get hurt during it, once he managed to actually hurt your arm when trying to wrestle you, after taking you to the doctor and being told you had to rest that arm, he had to remind himself every so often that you were hurt and he couldn't play rough

You've rarely managed to hurt him seriously so he forgets rather quickly about your injury and accidentally hurts that same arm again when wanting to pull you towards him, saw you wince in pain and remembered

Apologized like a million times and even offered to "kiss the pain away" by placing little kisses all over your arm and face too, you could only sit there and let him kiss to his heart's content until the guilt in him eased up a bit

Decided it'd be better to not play roughly with you anymore, even after you got better he didn't initiate it anymore unless you did and even then he always let you have the upper hand, he preferred you winning and poking at him rather than making you get hurt again because of his playfulness

Gaz

He's so gentle and careful around you to make sure he doesn't misspeak or hurt you that you wonder how he ever made it in his line of work, he's like an angel for you whereas with anyone else he doesn't like he'll ignore

So, imagine the shame he feels for making you cry, he caught you eating a whole jar of nutella with bread late at night in the pantry and when he told you that it'd be better to stop before it made you feel sick, you burst out in tears, taken aback, he didn't know what to do

He hadn't ever gotten this reaction from you over something so small, turns out you had just started your period and eating the pain of cramps away was the comfort you needed, ofc once he figured that out he kept going "oh, im sorry sweetheart, so sorry my love" as many times as he needed until you calmed down

He'd rather die than ever even think of making you get so upset you cry, he made sure you were okay after that and even offered to go buy anything else you needed or wanted

Roach

I feel like it'd be very difficult for this guy to hurt you seriously to the point you're in tears, instead he might apologize for anything that MIGHT hurt you, whether that be physically or emotionally

Mostly emotionally though, he's afraid that something he says might sound wrong simply because when he's around you he has no filter, but that might have only been in the first stages of your relationship when he was still somewhat insecure around you and would apologize or ask before doing anything

Now, you two are so in sync with one another's thoughts that it's hard to misspeak or be misunderstood, that's the beauty of your relationship :)

If anything you might have more slip ups than he does

Alejandro

Might accidentally hurt you with too much affection, is that a thing? More like overloading you with it

Yes, he looks for any opportunity to show you his love, for example, every morning that he's home he likes to surprise you with breakfast, he even likes to feed you

Except once, he didn't know how hot the food still was and when he scooped it up to place it into your mouth you burned yourself, he jumped and gave you water to get over the painful sensation that sort of ruined your taste that day

You forgave him because he was only trying to be a sweet bf :( by making you a breakfast you could look forward to trying but instead you didn't enjoy it properly because he didn't think to blow on your food before making you taste it

Rudy

Rodolfo has the habit of silently appearing behind you while you're getting ready in front of the mirror, he doesn't do it to scare you he just likes watching you do your routine

It's usually a problem at night though... when it's dark and you only like having one light on to be able to see your face and so the rest around you is darkness and out of that darkness a face emerges and it nearly scares you to death

You usually flinch and accidentally hit your hand or arm against the counter or kitchen sink, this time you hit your elbow on the corner of the counter and you could only suffer silently in pain as he held your arm and stuttered over his words trying to apologize

He'll have to be more careful about approaching you from behind since you're often in your own world and don't see him coming lol

Phillip Graves

Whenever he's doing some sort of job around the house that requires the use of tools like a hammer, nails or a power drill, he always warns you beforehand and tells you stay away, but he has the habit of discarding unused nails on the ground and then forgetting where he's dropped them

It's obvious someone was going to step on one and get hurt eventually, he assumed he had cleaned up all them though, and even if you had shoes on it would still have gone through your shoe sole and pierced into your skin

As soon as he heard you gasp in pain he got off the ladder so fast he nearly fell off and rushed to you, he cursed himself for being so careless, this wasn't a job site, he had to be careful

He cleaned you up pretty well but still took you to the doctor's just in case, those nails he used were found in the shed and he didn't want to take any chances, but he made sure to be cautious when working inside the house

Makarov

Was trying to teach you how you'd react in a situation where you needed to defend yourself, he wanted to teach you to be able to handle anything in case something prevented him from being there to protect you, so this simulation was supposed to prepare you

He accidentally used too much force when you weren't prepared and elbowed you in the chest, it knocked the wind out of you and had you doubling over in pain, he panicked and held you by your shoulders while you caught your breath, his heart nearly stopped seeing your eyes widen when he hit you

He made sure you were okay and decided to leave it at that for the day, he insisted you sit for a while until you caught your breath, but it got him thinking what you'd do if someone else who wasn't him hurt you because they actually had bad intentions, he wouldn't always be there to soothe your pain

All this ran through his mind as you repeatedly called out to him while he rubbed your shoulders on the couch

Keegan

You two often start playful arguments which can and sometimes do escalate into full-blown verbal arguments, it's a strange way both of you can say whatever is needed to be said and also blow off some steam

Once, when an argument did get too heated, he accidentally dropped a plate and it shattered, the tiny fragments flying everywhere, some of which were embedded into your skin, you screamed in pain and that's when he stopped

He was by your side in an instant, forgetting his anger and instead worrying about you, he kept cursing under his breath and believed it was his fault for getting too upset, you didn't deserve to get hurt, he didn't meant for it to happen

He bit his lip and kept quiet as he worked to get all the pieces out and clean you as best as he could, afterwards he mumbled an apology and instead took you to bed where he let you decide whether you wanted to let him sleep beside you too or if you were still mad you'd rather him take the couch in the living room

König

He can't help it, it's not his intention to hurt you, but he forgets how big he is sometimes when wanting to show you affection, especially when he's overjoyed to see you

And it's not like him to warn you in advance so you'll just turn around to see this huge blurb coming at you and you barely have time to brace yourself, sometimes it leads to you accidentally hitting your head on something or feeling sore from the weight of him on top of you, and he looks so comfortable resting on top of you that you feel bad when you have to tell him to move

Raises his head and looks at you in confusion, tilting as he stares at you that it makes you want to shut up and just let your entire body go numb

But it's like his brain fully loads and the realization that he's crushing you sets in he gets off of you so quickly and anxiously asks if he hurt you, won't stop checking you over until you laugh and say that you're fine, then lies at the foot of the bed like a dog now with the worry always in the back of his head as a reminder to be more careful

Horangi

Like his callsign indicates, he pretends to be a tiger sneaking up behind you at times, he loves seeing your reaction when you're distracted on your phone or didn't know Horangi was even home

It's quite a surprise when you're at piece, folding laundry or tidying up and you feel big hands wrapping around you from behind and a deep voice smugly going "boo"

You dropped the laundry basket on your feet and it hurt your toes, if it weren't for Horangi being behind you, he would've also been hopping around in pain

He found it amusing and laughed but helped you pick up the laundry that was scattered on the floor as a way of him making it up to you

And you'll get back at him soon...

Nikto

You're sort of used to him being a little rough with you but he still forgets just how big and heavy his hands really are, like he'll want to tap your shoulder or back and accidentally lay his hand with too much force on you that it feels like a heavy blow

He doesn't notice until you react and then he's like "??", visibly confused because he doesn't know what happened and it's not until you tell him that he will quietly apologize

He doesn't realize that when he's home he can relax on his grip or hold, and it often happens when he's sleeping in bed with you, he still has the habit of when he's deployed to have a big pillow he can just hold close to him, drape a leg over or just smush his face in, and when he's home that pillow becomes... you

The desperation that you awaken with when you feel as if you were suffocating and can't move, you practically have to yell for him to wake up from his deep sleep and ease his grip, you sit up and put an actual pillow in your place and he just goes right back to sleep, doesn't even realize what he's done lol

[rottingpink]

WHEN HANDS WANDER | RAFE CAMERON

masterlist

cw: major perv! rafe, flirting, implied age gap (rafe is 4-5 years older), coercion, naive! reader, massages, raw sex, floor sex, missionary, breeding, MDNI

synopsis: naive athlete! reader feels stiff and tense and needs a massage before a big game. how will her friend's brother, Rafe, help her out?

Rafe would be listening outside the door of Sarah's room like this while you whine to her about your body. He wasn't trying to eavesdrop, per se, you were just really loud and didn't seem to care about who overheard your conversation. Plus, when you were talking, you sounded all soft and whiny, and he really liked that. How you sounded so fucking sexy when you were frustrated.

His body slows instinctually and he leans near Sarah's door, listening into your complaints. "I'm gonna die, Sarah," You were saying. He could picture what you looked like right now. Probably splayed on Sarah's bed in those tiny, low waisted shorts and little baby tees you always wore to be "comfortable".

"My back hurts like a bitch. I've been stretching constantly, I swear, but my body's just getting tighter and more stiff, and my performance in games has been sooo bad. i'm ruined, i swear."

Rafe hears Sarah mumble something back, but he mostly tunes her out, hyper focused on you. His mind's locked on the way your voice rises in pitch and gets a little breathier with each passing moment, and every time you shift on the bed, you'd let out a little moan of pain.

Was it normal to get hard just from breathing and whines? Maybe Rafe just had a problem. "I just feel so stiff," You whine some more, dragging out each syllable so your voice comes out all slow and sensual. "I can't even bend over without something locking up. What if I go out into my game and look like an idiot? That'd be the end of me."

Rafe scoffs, pressing his ear more firmly against the door now, wanting to be sure he doesn't miss any of your little sounds. Fuck, you sounded hot when you were being overdramatic. He liked how petulant you always were, because it'd keep him on your toes. It all just made him want to spank you for being such a brat, and then fuck the attitude right out of you.

Rafe struggles to hear you over the pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears, his focus solely on the delectable sounds of distress spilling from your lips. You shift again, and he has to slap a hand over his mouth to stifle the groan that surges up from his chest at the little moan of pain you let out, no doubt from some muscle twinge or another.

Surely Rafe's big hands could get those kinks easily. He knew how to use his hands. He had experience.

Imagining you going still under him, mewling softly when his hands spread your thighs to massage your glutes and the insides of your thighs, of him convincing you that the only way you'd feel better is if he slides two thick fingers into your pussy... he throbs, stepping back. He can't handle much more of your whines and his daydreaming without nearly soiling his pants. He'd be back later, after he took care of the raging boner you gave him...

Later, you're almost to your bike at the end of the Cameron's driveway when you hear footsteps behind you, getting closer. "Yo," Rafe calls out, his voice smooth. "Where you going?"

You don't stop walking, but you slow your pace just a little. You know he won't back off until you give him some kind of answer, so you glance back at him. "Nowhere, Rafe." you muse back. He's so used to you acting this way around him, to keeping things casual, pretending you're not affected by him when you absolutely are.

"Come on," Rafe presses, his steps quickening as he matches your pace. He's close now and you can feel the heat radiating off him. "Just tell me. You've got me all curious now, princess." He's grinning, gaze flickering down to your lips momentarily, then back to your eyes.

You just give him a little shrug, like you're not interested in playing his game anymore. "I'm just heading home," you murmur. You don't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he makes you nervous, and so you back away a little. "Hmph. Not that it's any of your business."

Rafe doesn't even falter, though. He steps in front of you before you can take another step. There's no hesitation in his body language because he's really got the confidence to match his cocky grin, and he's never been shy about using it on you. "Not my business?"

You try to move around him, but he steps in your path again, blocking you effortlessly. His body is like a wall, and for a second you don't know whether to be annoyed or turned on. He's always like this, making you feel like you can't get away from him.

You stare up at him, his blue eyes piercing into yours. He does this thing where he refuses to break eye contact until you look away, and when you do, he bends his head forward to chase wherever your gaze is pointed to put his face in your line of sight. He leans forward just a little, his voice dropping low. "Look," he says, drawing out the word like he's talking to a kid. "You're heading home, hm? What, you think you're just gonna leave me hanging, not even tell me where you're going? I don't think so."

You exhale sharply, feeling heat in your cheeks now, but you don't back down. Instead, you cross your arms over your chest, trying to hold onto your composure. "I don't owe you anything," you say, but even you can hear the uncertainty in your voice. You're trying to play it cool, but the closer he gets, the harder it is to pretend.

Rafe notices, of course. He's always been good at reading you, and now he leans in a little more, his lips just inches from your ear. You can feel the heat from his body, his breath brushing against your skin, and it makes you shiver despite yourself.

"I heard you talking to Sarah earlier." He steps in closer, just close enough for you to feel his chest almost touching yours. "You're so tight from training, aren't you? I can help with that."

You're silent for a beat, unsure how to respond, and when he sees that, he leans in a little more, his hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. The touch is gentle, but it makes you suck in a breath, and you hate that it's so hard to keep it together around him.

"Come on," he coaxes, his voice practically cooing now. "Let me take care of you. I've got really good hands."

You take a step back, hoping to break the tension, but he follows you, matching each step. You're trying to stay firm, but there's something in the way he's looking at you, the way his hands are hovering around you like he's barely holding back.

"Of course you were spying on me. Creep." you scoff.

"I'm not a creep," he says a little too defensively, leaning down so his face is right in front of yours. "I'm just keeping an eye on you. Better than some random guy feeling you up, during a massage. You know me. I'll be better for you."

You hold his eye contact for a moment, before giving him a little push back, scoffing a bit in a way that confirms that he succeeded in persuading you. "Ugh, fine. My house will be empty tonight. Everyone's out. I'll be alone."

"Good." he says, voice smooth. "I'll come by at 10, then. And you can stop pretending you don't want me... to help you out."

You turn to leave, but before you can, he calls after you, his voice teasing. "Don't wear much, sweetheart. Need to make sure nothing's restricting the flow of circulation."

You roll your eyes, hurrying off with your heart pounding.

-

You're on your tummy in your basement, laying on a cushy gym mat a couple inches off the ground with Rafe hovering over you. You actually listened to him when he said not to wear much. Actually, you seemed to have gone all out. There's not a single piece of fabric on you other than the little pair of panties covering your butt. The rest of your body, glistening and smooth and soft, is bare for his eyes to take in.

Rafe's floored, to say the least. His brain is malfunctioning, eyes going from your smooth back, to your waist... hips... your plush ass, and then finally, your core, which is barely covered in the thin cloth of your panties. Fuck... jerking off twice in one day wasn't enough to prepare him for this.

He huffs out a breath, starting with digging his palms into your shoulder blades, rolling them repetitively like he's got any idea what he's doing. You moan softly, eyes fluttering shut, making him bite down his lower lip in response. His thumbs dig into your back a little too hard, and he hears the little whimpering sound you make. Rafe tenses, having to do a little pause to shake himself out of it and dial it back so he doesn't get overexcited and ram his cock into you.

You're soft everywhere, he starts to realize. And warm. You hum softly every time he loosens up one of your sweet spots, and the noises you make make him so much more eager to know what you sound like when he's touching you where you're extra sensitive, and so his hands keep slipping. Grazing just too close to your nipples when he reaches around to massage your chest.

You gasp, your back arching just the tiniest bit as you blink your eyes open. "Ah! w-wait… is it supposed to feel like that there? All tingly?" Rafe freezes as you turn to look over your shoulder at him, clutching the mat with both hands. "Feels tingly, hm?" He murmurs, voice teasing. "Right here?" He intentionally cups handfuls of your breasts, flicking both your nipples. You jolt and cry out, squirming underneath him.

"Mmhm! R-rafe!" You moan out his name, jolting forward like you'd just been electrocuted. There's something very odd about the way his touch makes you feel, like heat spreads around your body and you can't seem to sit still. You rub your thighs together to try and soothe some of the heat coursing through you.

Rafe exhales hard like he's been holding it in for a while, hands cupping your breasts but not squeezing them again. He's being very careful so that you don't realize what he's doing is pretty far from a massage and that he's just feeling you up. He speaks again, telling you something he hopes you'll believe.

"Mhm... that's normal. Means I'm doing everything real good."

What he doesn't say is that he's about ten seconds away from flipping you over and finding out exactly what other spots make you feel tingly. That little pair of panties barely counts as clothing. They're riding up in the back, too, showing off the curve of your ass like you wanted him to stare, and you wiggle slightly underneath him, shifting your hips, and he nearly groans out loud.

"Why're you moving so much?" he mutters, voice low. "Stay still."

You pout, all innocent, "I'm just trying to relax."

His palms slide down again, pressing into the small of your back and gliding down to your hips. "Mm. Sure you are." His thumbs find the tops of your ass cheeks and press in gently. "You always relax in just your panties? Or is this just for me?" Your thighs squeeze together again, though you don't see how Rafe's eyes snap to the movement, and his dick twitches against your ass. He's so keyed in on you right now that he's buzzing. "You're the one who told me not to wear too much," You huff, moaning softly.

He sits back on his heels for a second, just to look. Your body is tiny in his huge hands, your back arching real pretty. The way your panties are hugging your plump pussy lips makes his jaw clench so tight it hurts. He swipes a hand down his mouth like that'll help him focus, his eyes rolling back a little. He can't take this. Feels like his dick will explode any second now. Maybe he could just convince you his load is some body cream if he does accidentally finish on your ass. "Feel's so good, more!"

He swallows thickly and leans forward again, hands slipping over your thighs now, trailing down until he's brushing just above your knees, then dragging them up, up, up again, grazing the sides of your ass with his thumbs this time.

"You know…" he says, voice low and teasing as he bends even closer, mouth practically at your ear now. "Most people wear more than this. Not just these tiny little things." He swipes his fingers across the waistband of your panties, letting it catch and snap lightly against your butt. You gasp, and he grins, pleased with himself.

"You're not most people, though, are you?" he says. "You're my special little tease." His hand fully cups the swell of your ass, fingers digging in a little harder than necessary like he's trying to convince himself you're real.

He doesn't move right away, his fingertips denting into the soft flesh like he's sculpting you. His thumb slides in toward the center, right where the curve dips down, and he grazes over the stretched fabric clinging to your core.

Then he shifts, lowers himself even more. Now he's straddling your calves, his weight heavy on you. The position forces him closer, lets him reach more of you without having to stretch.

"Mm, need to loosen you up right here," he murmurs, digging his thumbs into the tops of your thighs now, massaging slow circles just beneath the curve of your butt. "So tense, baby. That's not good for you."

His fingers knead into the backs of your thighs, spreading them just enough for your panties to pull tighter against your pussy. He watches it happen like a man possessed, staring openly at the way the fabric pushes up against your hole, admiring the little damp spot that's formed.

His hands slide further down your legs now, curling around your thighs and calves, squeezing, trailing back up, brushing the sensitive skin behind your knees and up along the insides of your thighs this time.

"Bet you're warm here," he says, his voice practically a whisper now as he presses a thumb against the inside of your thigh, just shy of your core. "And you're soaked down here, too."

You're a flushed, panting mess at this point, your eyes hazy and hands clenched up. "D-dunno what that means..." He groans at your innocence, slowly pulling your panties down your legs. "That's okay. Just close your eyes and let me check, kay?" You nod lazily, eyes fluttering shut on his command. He pulls your panties all the way off and tucks them into his back pocket, planning to play dumb if you asked where they were later.

You're a little embarrassed at being so exposed to him now, but he's in awe. Your pussy is completely visible to him, folds slick and plush under your plump pussy lips. He's throbbing like crazy. "Hm." he tuts, trying to come up with a lie on the spot so he can take things further. "You need some help here too. This is the only way you can get your whole body to relax."

He traces two fingers up and down your slit, listening to the soft gasps that leave you as he slowly coaxes them inside you. His fingers back and forth slowly, trying to get you to relax and loosen up enough for him to shove them deeper.

Rafe's hands grip your hips suddenly, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he tugs you backwards. Your ass is now raised and presented to him, his fingers never leaving the depths of your core. You swallow hard as you feel his thick, oil slicked fingers thrust in and out of you, making squelching sounds. "Mnh! It's so much, it feels so weird there…" Rafe huffs, eyes glazed. "Shit… Knew you'd sound pretty when I touched you. Just take it for me"

He keeps pumping his fingers in and out of you at a slow pace, curling them just enough for his fingers to stroke that spongey spot deep inside you that your own smaller fingers were never ever able to reach. You cry out, your back arching off the mat as jolts of pleasure shoot through you. "Shh... there we go. Doing so good. Just need to loosen you up."

You're whining now, his fingers diving in and out of you at a steady, repetitive pace that turns your brain to mush. "Rafe… feels s-good..."

He starts to pick up the pace, scissoring his fingers inside of your clenching pussy, turning his hand so that the angles of his fingers vary. You're bucking your hips back into him, unable to hold back especially as his fingers swirl deeper inside your gooey, untouched walls. Rafe groans, feeling your silky walls ripple and squeeze his invading fingers. "Oh, you like that?" he says, grinning now, drunk on the way your body reacts to him. "Knew you'd be sensitive. Knew you'd be a little fuckin' mess for me."

You squirm and let out a little cry, gushing around him and clenching hard as your vision sparkles. He keeps fingering you as you cum, coaxing you to keep going and push you further off the edge. Your body's still trembling when you finally come down, hips twitching under his hands, your cheek pressed against the mat, lips parted as you gasp for breath. There's a high, dazed flush across your cheeks, hair stuck to your forehead, and your thighs won't stop shaking no matter how hard you try to clench them together.

"Goddamn," he mutters, staring at the mess you made on his fingers. "You came so fuckin' hard…" One arm slides under your waist to lift you with ease, turning you onto your back like you weigh nothing. He's already crawling between your legs, big hands spreading your thighs wide and settling in close. "Still twitching," he murmurs, dragging a single fingertip over your clit, making you gasp. "God, you're so sensitive. You want more?"

You nod, pawing at his shoulders hazily. You're too far gone to realize that this stopped being a massage a while ago. His hands are everywhere again, palming your thighs, sliding up your hips, gripping your waist to yank you down the mat toward him. You let out a soft gasp, hands scrambling to hold onto his arms, but he nudges you of so he can focus on tugging his shorts down. He drops them and his boxers, cock springing free, which is thick and flushed with heavy balls. " 's my massage rod, baby. See? the last part of the massage."

"Mh, y-yes..."

He chuckles at your whines, and lines himself up with your slick, oversensitive pussy, letting the head of his cock drag through your slick folds before just barely nudging your clit.

He leans over you, one hand next to your head, the other wrapped around himself as he teases your hole, circling it, tapping lightly, sliding just the head in before pulling back. "Easy, easy… just gotta prep you first, alright? Don't wanna hurt you," He fusses, watching your face scrunch in anticipation and listening avidly to each tiny noise you make.

One deep, slow thrust that splits you open and punches the air out of your lungs. He sinks into you like he belongs there, like he's been waiting his whole life to be buried inside you. When he bottoms out his hips press flush against yours and he feels your walls fluttering around him, he lets out a sound that's half groan, half growl.

He keeps one hand on your throat, thumb pressed lightly just beneath your jaw, not choking, just holding you there and feeling your pulse race under his fingers while his other hand cups the back of your thigh and shoves it up, folding you in, letting him go deeper, hit deeper.

"Oh fuckkk…" he breathes, forehead dropping to yours. "You feel like heaven, baby."

He starts rutting into you with long, deep strokes at first, slow enough to feel every inch, to let your body adjust and to let you feel how big he is. His hips roll, his pelvis grinding against your clit with every push and he keeps his eyes locked on yours the whole time.

You're whining and babbling, vision spotty from the slight lack of air caused by his hand around your throat, but each time you try to shut your eyes and shut your legs due to the overstimulation from your recent orgasm, he catches your jaw and tilts your face back toward him.

"N-nuh uh," he pants, sweat beading on his forehead. His pupils are dilated and his lips are parted to let out heavy groans. "No looking away, ngh, wanna see that lil look on your face when you fall apart on my cock."

You can't stop the whines that spill from your lips as he shoves his cock deep inside you, strokes hard and rough enough to make your tits bounce with each thrust. "Ah, fuck... you're squeezing me so tight," Rafe groans as he thrusts into you, panting at the way your walls clamp down on his long, thick cock.

You keen, pussy creaming around him even more as you dig your nails into his hard biceps to keep yourself upright, struggling to keep your gaze focused on his. You're so wet that there's juices squelching onto the yoga mat each time he pushes into you, making a mess. The oil covering your body isn't helping either.

He's so deep inside of you, and his balls slapping against your swollen clit is starting to make your head swirl even more. Rafe's large hands grip your hips and guide them back against him with each thrust so you're fucking yourself on his dick. "Shittt, baby. Thought you were s-so fucking innocent, but look at you. Fuckin' yourself on my cock like mnh, fucking slut."

"Rafe!" You cry out his name when he gets real deep inside you. "Sl-slower, please, mnh… you're… it's so deep," You're whining softly, body jerking on his cock as he huffs out a breath and refuses with a gruff "Don't wanna," and pounds into you a little harder just to spite you. He's not going to slow down when he's finally got you where he wants you.

The mat shifts around underneath the two of you as Rafe splits your poor little hole in half on his cock. He lets go of your neck to slide two fingers into your mouth, watching your eyes roll and your tongue swirl around his thick digits. "Atta girl, sweetheart, use that tongue. fuckk..." He throbs inside you, watching the way your pussy sucks him back in every time he tries to pull back. You squeeze him like you were made for him. Makes him wanna put a baby in you.

You gasp when he drives forward hard, hitting that sweet spot inside you that makes tears of pleasure spring to your eyes, and you suck on his fingers hard so you don't scream.

He keeps fucking his cock against that gummy, soft spot in you, angling his body so he can hit your g-spot over and over, and within seconds, you're creaming around his cock, a loud whine leaving your lips as your clear juices coat his thighs and cock.

He nearly cums on the spot at the way you make a mess on him like some silly mutt with no self control and how hard you clench down when you're cumming, but he has a little more self control and stamina than you. "Shit, feels s'good, princess, good girl, keep squeezin' me jus' like that,"

He grabs your hips hard with one hand and takes his fingers out of your mouth to grope at your tits, flicking your pebbled nipple and pinching it between the rough pads of his fingers.

"Anh, Rafe!" You scream, " 'S too much, oh my god Rafe," You wail and babble, overstimulated, but he just grunts and squeezes you tighter. He pulls on your nipple and pinches it lightly. He hilts himself inside you repeatedly with each thrust, not stopping until his heavy balls slap lewdly against your puffy clit.

Your pussy's swollen with overstimulation, and it's tightening up and is really sloppy around his cock. Rafe's heavy cock plunges into your sopping pussy with each thrust, creating squelching sounds as your juices stir up against his in a mess. "Fuck, this pussy's gonna be the death of me, sweetness, grippin' me like a goddamn vice and soakin' my cock," He groans, throwing his head back. Your fucking pussy makes him crazy.

He stretches your poor puffy pussy to its limits, driving desperate moans from you that grow louder the dumber he makes you. Thick strands of your cum cling to his cock as your walls ripple around him as he fucks into your overstuffed cunt, your puffy lips kissing his slicked cock. "Look at you. You wanted this so bad, didn't you? Hah. Fuckin' adorable."

You whine as he pounds you, his cock filling your pussy and hitting the gummy barrier of your womb with every other thrust. You can see the way your tummy plumps up around the outline of his big cock, stretching into your womb.

Your head lolls and he pushes down on your tummy. You cry out and cum again, and he groans and splurts inside of you, dumping heavy loads of cream inside your used pussy. "Fuckkk, that's right princess, milk my fuckin' cock... God, best pussy I had in a long ass time." He leans down to press open mouthed kisses against your cheek, fucking his cum back into you after stuffing you full and breeding you.

[devotedsweetheart]

・❥ CALEB'S FAVORITE TOYS !

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ rundown :: the top 3 toys i think caleb would use on himself / reader! (based on this ask)

a/n :: tysm for the wonderful individual for putting this idea in my headdd!!! mwamwa

1. FLESHLIGHT :: just like anon said, he is most DEFINITELY using a fleshlight and pretending it's us instead. he typically doesn't like to masturbate without you so usually he'll only do it if you ask him to during mutual masturbation, but some nights, he's just so desperate for something - anything - to touch his disgustingly needy dick that he can't help it. don't fret, though, cause he will always ask you if he can touch himself if you're not there. sending you voice notes of himself begging, videos of his cock twitching into his hand, pics of tears rolling down his face... he'll put a whole show on for you just to get your approval to do so little as go near the toy. and while he really does feel bad for doing something so naughty without you in his presence, once that fleshlight is in his hands... hes not stopping. his eyes are shut tight, head pushed deep into the pillows, back arched, hips stuttering, knuckles turning white from the force of his grip on the sheets.. it just feels so damn good! unapologetic whimpers and moans come in between his cries of your name, his last bit of strength practically disintegrated. when he's about to cum, he'll either spam your phone with tons of facetime calls or messily set up is phone to record, feeling obligated to show you how good he makes himself feel thinking about you.

2. COCKRINGS :: okay, hear me out. he absolutely despises cockrings with a passion.. but only because you bring it out when he needs to be punished. he actually quite likes the concerning amount of pleasure that they bring him, he just hates that every time he uses one is when hes being edged or overstimulated. there are rare occasions that you allow him to use it during his personal time, but theres a very big emphasis on rare. you have only one ring for him that vibrates, while all the others are just there to stop him from cumming whenever he feels like he might. it's pathetic how desperate he gets when he's begging for you to take it off. big crocodile tears stream down his face as his stupid little cock twitches and thrashes against your hand, brain turned to mush. literally all he could think about is good it'd feel to cum, how sexy you are when you deny him... it's so bad to the point where quite literally nothing could stop him from cumming. he didnt even ask for fucks sake!! he doesn't realize how much more trouble he just got in for orgasming when he was explicitly told not to.. :(

3. VIBRATORS :: caleb is for sure a sucker for a good vibrator. he doesnt just use it on himself (..his tip) , no, hes not that selfish. he adores keeping it on your clit while he pounds into you in missionary, or even letting you sit in between his legs, your back to his chest, torturing your bud of nerves with that delicious sensation. he'd have you in a headlock, not allowing you to shy away from the toy if it becomes too much; his legs hooking around your calves to get your legs to stay open. he cannot have you be anything but spread open, that just isn't allowed!! on another note, he would without a doubt buy a bunch of those little tiny vibrators that fit perfectly onto your clit & into your panties that are controlled by an app on his phone. he loves taking you to a restaurant just to play with you, watching you fall apart in front of everyone knowing he'll be punished heavily for it. he doesn't care about the consequences.... in the moment. once you two are finally home it's then that he begins to really care. it was all fun and games until you have him tied up, sprawled out in a star position on the bed, fighting against the restraints as you abuse his most sensitive parts with your own vibrator. your panties would be shoved into his mouth, drool dripping from the corner of his lips down his face. he's literally on the verge of passing out because of how many times he's came, his eyes basically permanently crossed and eyebrows furrowed tight. you don't stop until the toy dies... and caleb does too.

[hard-core-super-star]

i touched you for only a fortnight [W.Maximoff]

pairing: sugarmommy!wanda x reader

summary: after hearing that someone's been flirting with wanda, you start questioning your place in her life. luckily, your relationship is one of the main things she's secure in.

warnings: mentions of dom/sub dynamics; allusions to sex but no smut yet; jealousy + insecurity; legal nonspecified age-gap; sugarmommy!wanda deserves her own warning tbh

wordcount: 2.2k

a/n: HI SO, i very randomly decided to make what was supposed to be a solo fic into a series so...this is the unofficial first part. don't get impatient with me, next part will be full smut, i got too attached to the story to rush a smut scene here. i think this is my first official wanda fic so i'm very excited to see how this goes. let me know your thoughts, hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

You're not entirely sure how you ended up in this situation.

One day, you were a broke college student, barely hanging on by your teeth and the next, you were Wanda Maximoff's newest obsession. Everyone and their mom knew about the CEO, about the rumors that followed her wherever she went. She was rich, ruthless, dedicated in a way no one could match. She was a force to be reckoned with but most of all…she was your sugar mommy.

You wish you could say it had all been accidental, coincidental even. But it wasn't. At least, not fully.

A few months ago, your best friend had talked you into going out to a club with her. Kate was many things, mainly economically stable and with far more connections than a normal 22-year-old should have. Of course, that was due more to her mother than the brunette's charming personality.

You didn't fully understand why she was so adamant about acting like she wasn't a rich kid. Or rather, a privileged rich kid. It was refreshing, but it was a little hysterical considering she pretty much relied on her mother's riches for…everything.

Still, you appreciated how down to earth she was. Even when she dragged you into a ridiculously crowded club with drinks you couldn't afford. She didn't seem to mind, though, considering the ease with which she handed the bartender her credit card.

You hadn't expected anything interesting to happen that night. You assumed all you'd really do was get drunk and babysit Kate so she didn't run her mouth and get into a fight with the sleazy guys that always found their way to you.

Fate had other plans for you, it seemed, because Wanda Maximoff was there that night. And she was instantly drawn to you…and the way you slapped a sleazy guy for blatantly placing his hand on your ass.

She stepped in before security could even try to kick you out and she offered you a drink for your troubles.

It'd been unexpected but you had never been one to turn down a beautiful, slightly scary, woman. You didn't know it then, but accepting her offer was the best thing you'd ever done for yourself.

And not just because Wanda was even quicker to spend money on you than Kate.

So, as weird and uncharted territory as it was, you slowly got used to being the older woman's sugar baby. To spending your free time with her, to bringing her lunch when she forgot to take a break in between meetings, to giving yourself over to her every night in as many ways as you could handle.

Of course, that didn't come without its challenges. The biggest of them being your insecurities about your place in her life.

It didn't seem to matter how many times she reassured you that she wanted you, you knew being her sugar baby wasn't the same as being her girlfriend. You had no right to feel jealous when she went out for drinks with other CEOs. No right to be upset when people flirted with her at the club.

Just because you knew that, though, didn't mean you didn't get upset. You were grateful for Wanda, and even more grateful for the kindness she showed Kate by giving her a job at her company, but that gratefulness wasn't enough to quell the jealousy that crept up on you sometimes.

Especially when your lovely best friend added fuel to that fire.

It's late when you hear the front door of Wanda's penthouse open. You've spent the majority of the day by yourself, having been told not to visit the older woman at her office because of some important meetings she was going to have. You, being the obedient lover she knew you to be, did exactly as she asked despite how bored and lonely you got.

Things would have been fine had Kate not told you how flirty Wanda's assistant had been all day. It seemed every time Agnes made some sort of suggestive comment, your best friend was close enough to send you a message about it.

And to top it off, the older woman hadn't replied to your texts in a few hours. So, needless to say, watching her come home extremely late, after a long day apart, does little to help you feel better.

It takes no less than a minute for Wanda to walk into the living room, her fingers already unbuttoning the white blouse beneath her dark red blazer. "Why are you still awake, angel?"

As distracting as the sight is, you don't let it steal your thoughts away.

"Where were you?" You ask, already hating how soft your voice is.

"Where do you think?" She replies with a well-placed tilt of her head.

Even though her tone makes you want to back down, you hold your ground, not yet ready to continue without an answer. "You're back late. You never come back this late when you're at the office."

Your words make her pause. Her eyes scan your face as she comes closer, a sigh stuck in her throat. "You know these meetings run late sometimes. I went to get a drink afterward to unwind. Why are you so upset, sweetheart?"

"Kate said your secretary was making moves on you," you say, feeling your shoulders relax as you finally give a voice to the thoughts that have been plaguing you all day. "That you let her flirt with you."

Despite how soft she's trying to be, Wanda rolls her eyes. "Kate's an idiot."

"But she's not a liar," you reply before you can think better of it.

This time, the older woman isn't able to stop the flicker of annoyance that passes through her face. "Watch yourself, sweetheart. What's that supposed to mean?"

You barely manage to hold in a groan. Complaining would only make the situation worse for you, considering how little she lets you get away with when you're obviously upset.

"That she wouldn't make something up just because…" you trail off, almost not wanting to ask your next question. "It's true, isn't it?"

Wanda sighs, easily sliding onto your lap. Your hands instantly come up to grip her hips, greedily pulling her close to you, your heart pounding in your chest as you wait for her answer. "Yes, darling, it's true. Agnes was in a bold mood today, but I shot her down every time. She knows I'm taken."

Her words help soothe your jealousy somewhat but they're not enough to overshadow your insecurities. "Are you? Because I'm not your girlfriend."

"y/n," she says, her eyes narrowing slightly. "What are you trying to say?"

Even though you know she's not upset with you, her tone still makes you shrink into yourself. You had been so confident earlier, so sure of what you were going to say to her, of what you were going to ask, and now…it had all evaporated with one quick raise of her eyebrow.

"Nothing," you sigh. "It's stupid."

Wanda doesn't let you hide. Her hand comes up to cup your face, tilting your head back so you're looking up at her. "It's not stupid. You're jealous, aren't you, sweetheart?"

The softness in her voice does little to erode your insecurities. If anything, it makes you want to hide even more. To run away and pretend you never even brought up the idea of being more than…a pastime. Because maybe if you could escape the conversation, you could escape the reality. The very real possibility that she didn't want you to be anything more than her favorite toy.

"Why would I be jealous?" you respond, trying to muster up the rest of your courage. "I don't own you or your time."

The redhead sighs again, knowing it'll take more than a few well-placed words to get through to you. "What's with the attitude, hmm? What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

You recognize her words for what they are. The opportunity for you to be honest. To unload everything that's been overwhelming your mind since you realized how hard you'd fallen for the older woman. The fears, the insecurities, the uncontrollable need for her.

You almost don't want to admit it. Don't want to further complicate a situation that's gotten so out of your control. It was supposed to be temporary. You were supposed to be temporary. But you can't imagine a life outside of the one you've somehow built with her.

"I don't know," you finally say. "I just hate the thought of Agnes thinking she can flirt with you. She can't."

"She can't?" Wanda repeats, a hint of amusement seeping into her tone. "Why not, angel?"

She's toying with you, you know that. Turning you in circles until you're too confused to avoid answering her questions. Maybe it should feel manipulative, even cruel, but all it does is show you how well she knows you. How good she is at coaxing answers out of you by being soft and patient.

No one would believe you if you told them how sweet the ruthless businesswoman is. How easy it is to make her melt and give in to your every whim.

It would be ridiculous if you weren't the one wrapped right around her finger.

"Because…" You trail off with a huff. "You know why."

"Come on, baby," she tries again, her fingers caressing your jawline and making sure you keep your eyes on her. "I need to hear you say it. Please? For me."

All you allow yourself is a whine at first. Just the smallest sign of weakness. Of the brat Wanda secretly loves taming.

"Because you're my domme," you say, that hint of petulance still lingering in your tone. "You're supposed to be mine, not hers."

The corners of her mouth quirk up just enough to show how entertained she is by the exchange. In her defense, she does what she can to keep her expression serious, as if you're not just acting like a brat because you're jealous.

"I am yours, darling," Wanda replies. "You don't have to worry about Agnes. Or anyone else for that matter."

Her words manage to cut through the thick fog in your head left behind by your constant worries. They're not enough to fully erase your insecurities but it's a start. A start to the conversation you should have already had.

"You really mean it?" You find yourself asking.

You want to hate yourself for sounding so insecure, but you can't. The hard truth is, you need to hear her answer. Need to hear her put a label to what you two have. A label that goes beyond the sweet petnames she has for you.

"I do," she says, her voice dropping its usual teasing edge. "I don't want anyone else but you. I'm yours just as much as you're mine."

The words go right to your head, giving you a rush you've never felt before. It very quickly dawns on you why the older woman likes it so much when you say those words. Why it always makes her look like she's on top of the world.

"Say it again," you mumble, the softness in your tone making you feel particularly vulnerable.

The smile that grazes Wanda's face is nothing short of affectionate. "I'm yours, angel. You're the only one I want to be with."

Your hands on her hips slide around until your arms are around her waist and you're pulling her impossibly closer. You practically lunge forward, your lips seeking out hers and crashing into them.

It's not the most romantic kiss you've ever shared by any means, but the intensity behind your movements only makes it better. Especially when she kisses you back with that same passion.

Almost instantly, you're left wanting more.

"Wanda," you whisper against her lips. "I need you."

"I'm right here, baby. You can have me."

Her words would usually be enough to melt you until all you could think about was having her on top of you. Tonight, though, the desire you're suddenly hit with is different.

You need to touch her. To feel her against you. To hear her say your name over and over again until there's nothing left except the two of you.

You're not entirely sure how to express that need, though. Far too used to your usual dynamic and how easy your submission flows.

"Not like that," you say, your cheeks flushing.

Wanda simply stares at you with those same sharp eyes that hold a sea of affection you can't even begin to understand. "Is that right? You want to touch Mommy tonight, hmm?"

You nod, already feeling breathless from the thought of getting to touch her.

To show her you can be good in a different way.

* * * * * * *

taglist: @boredandneedfanfics @rosekjsses