#I am happy you have asked instead of struggling alone

[kedreeva]

Forgive me, but I'm new to Tumblr and thus am a bit "slow" when it comes to how things work.

I saw in your bio (status? Description? Whatever you call the thing on a profile) that you help when something something, so I figured you were a good place to start!

How does this platform work, exactly? I get that there are the posts on the front page and the questionnaire you fill when you make an account, but aside from that, they kind of drop you in without a map XD

What's with the #'s, why is everyone so forcibly autistic and gay (no problem, just a bit confusing as an outside observer), where do I go to get where I want to?

Sorry if this seems scatterbrained as a question, but I am bloody lost XD

Tyvm,

Dragon.

First of all, welcome! Of course I am happy to help!

Second of all, Tumblr is kind of the gay and neurodivergent website. Asking why we are this way is kind of like going to a food blog and asking why there are so many recipes. It's just sort of the place we've chosen to gather amongst friends.

As for how the site works... well, most days it doesn't, but through the power of will you can make it do stuff.

So if you look at the top bar of the site (or if you're on mobile, the bottom corner with the little pencil in a colorful circle), you'll see you can make several different kinds of posts. MOST posts on this site are going to be text or photos, very few posts will be anything else, but it happens. You can make your own posts ("posting") or you can use the circular arrows button to reblog someone else's post ("reblogging"). Reblogging a post places a copy of a post on your blog for others to see, and is highly encouraged as the main form of community. Reblogging maintains connection to the original poster, who retains credit and can see where the post goes and who likes it. This is good!! There is another form of post that is BAD, and that is taking the content of someone else's post, making a new post, and posting it as a fresh post- this is called reposting, and it WILL get you blocked by... pretty much everyone as it's widely considered stealing. Reblogging (using the arrows button) is GOOD, stealing someone's stuff and making a new post is BAD.

The #'s are called tags, and they are NOT like tags on instagram or twitter (at least, not ONLY). On tumblr, the first few tags in any original post are used as a way for the site to file posts you MAKE into "the tag" (singular) which is what comes up when you use the search function. So, if you tag something "Birds" and then you go search "birds" you post should show up in that tag's feed. HOWEVER. Since this ONLY happens for original posts, and you can add tags when you reblog stuff, tags on reblogged posts are just for talking in ways that aren't designed to follow the post. People use the "the tags" (plural) to talk to their followers, to talk to OP, to add clarification, to answer other tags in the notes of posts, etc, and they use it as a filing system for their own blogs (if you search ON THEIR BLOG only, you can search the words they normally use for tags to find stuff, and this works for reblogs too. it actually doesn't WORK work, you'd be better off using google to find stuff on people's blogs. tumblr is a functional website). So if you MAKE post, your post gets seen in The Tag of each tag you add for the site's general search function, and if you REBLOG a post the tags only matter to your blog's search function (and whoever is following you or reading the notes). If you want, you can reply in the body of a reblog post, but what you reply will follow the post around if someone reblogs it from you. Most people try to keep that form of post addition to relevant info. Tags are kind of like using your indoor voice to talk to a little group of friends, vs adding to a post in the body which is like having a megaphone.

You get to "the notes" by clicking on the number in the bottom left of any given post. You can see replies, tags and comments, and likes, on different tabs. "Liking" a post does not feed an algorithm here; this is a place which scorns algorithms. We spread things by hand, by reblogging them.

If you want to find creative work here, you can search the site for tags that might interest you. If you like birds, for example, you might search the site for "birds" or "bird" or "feathers" or "peacock" or "bluejay" or whatever birds you want to see. You have the choice to follow a tag (not recommended, as anyone can post spam to tags) or to scroll through the tag and click on the usernames of people posting things you like. Scroll through their blogs a little ways (10-20 posts) to see if you like their general vibe/whatever they're posting, and if you do like it, follow them! Following another user will then place them on your dashboard (the little house icon at the top or bottom takes you to your dashboard, or dash). Your dash amalgamates all the people you follow into a feed that you can scroll, kind of like following reddit forums (maybe?? I don't really use reddit so don't quote me).

You can scroll your dash to see posts you like (typical) or if you have the fortitude, you can become a tag diver. Tag divers are time honored and respected members of the tumblr ecosystem. These are folks who go into the main tag (for example, search the site for "birds" and scroll it) and look for good posts to reblog/queue. People then follow tag divers to see just the good posts from The Tag, without the spam or off topic or whatever stuff.

There are other sections of the site, like "for you" but idk what they do. Hardly anyone that's been here long term uses that. It's the closest to an algorithm as you'll get on the site, and we're very anti algorithm.

I mentioned a "queue" and that's another vital part of tumblr, and something unique to tumblr that makes it very special. You have the ability to either post instantly, OR.... you can add a post to your queue. The queue collects posts you put into it, and spits them out at regular intervals throughout the day, according to the preferences you set. So, mine is set to post I think 3 times a day. I've had it set as high as 20 times a day before, but it's usually at 3-5 depending on how many posts are in it. You can queue up to 1000 posts at a time. If your queue is full, you can add posts to your "drafts" section to queue or post later (or just post them). There's a post limit per day (I think it's 300? I could be wrong), so you can only make 300 posts a day. You may or may not ever hit that, but it exists.

If you want to view your notifications, you can find them in the lightning bolt on the webpage, or the little chat bubble on the app. You can filter activity, which is a great tool.

I think that's mostly the basics, although I am sure people will add more info in reblogs. You can find their added info by clicking on the "notes" in the bottom left of this post and then clicking on their reblog title. You can try doing a reblog by reblogging this to respond!

[xhyjin]

thinking about nanami kento! (when am i not) with a s/o that is socially awkward/shy

he knew from the start that you were distant. during work parties, you never showed up, only clocking in to work and leaving once your duties were done, never lingering to chat or mingle. the rare times you did attend, you stayed in the corners, quietly observing with wide, nervous eyes and a faint blush coloring your cheeks. he couldn’t help but be intrigued, and one day, curiosity got the better of him. he approached you. your words stuttered, your face burned red, but there was something about the way you responded that made him instantly drawn to you. from that moment, you became his reason to look forward to work every day.

he began to notice the little things about you. how you stayed tucked away in your cubicle, only speaking to coworkers when necessary. how you spent your lunch breaks alone, either watching a show on your phone or quietly eating, lost in your own thoughts. and how, at the end of the day, he’d sometimes catch you smiling to yourself in the elevator, as though you’d found happiness in the smallest of things. it fascinated him how content you seemed in your own world, and after weeks of silently admiring you, he finally decided to approach you properly.

but he was careful—patient. he knew you were shy and reserved, so he didn’t want to overwhelm you. he started small, spending lunch breaks with you. at first, the silence between you both was awkward, though not unwelcome. you blushed furiously at the attention but didn’t push him away. instead, you quietly shared bits of your lunch with him, a subtle gesture that said, i’m glad you’re here. he knew you struggled with words, so he didn’t press. instead, he let his presence speak for itself, slowly building a bridge of comfort between the two of you.

when kento finally worked up the courage to ask you out, making it clear that this wasn’t just work-related but a date; you could hardly believe it. your eyes widened, and then you nodded eagerly, your happiness shining through. his heart swelled at your reaction. he had planned a simple outing, maybe a cafe, but seeing your excitement, he wanted to make it special. he made reservations at a nice restaurant, ensuring you’d have a secluded spot to enjoy your time without pressure.

the date started just as he expected. you were quiet, your voice barely above a whisper when you responded to him, sticking mostly to “yes” or “no” answers. but kento was nothing if not patient. he asked small, simple questions, easing you into a conversation, and when he mentioned something you loved, your entire demeanor changed. your eyes lit up, your voice grew stronger, and you started talking more, rambling on about your interests. you didn’t even realize how much you’d been speaking until the waitress interrupted to take your order. your face turned crimson as you sulked in embarrassment, worried you’d talked too much. but when you glanced at kento, his gaze was soft, a gentle smile on his lips, he looked utterly captivated.

ordering was its own challenge. you felt embarrassed, too shy to tell the waitress what you wanted. kento noticed your hesitation and, with a subtle nudge of his foot under the table, gave you something to focus on. you nudged him back, and it was enough to calm your nerves, allowing you to place your order. he was thoughtful like that, always finding quiet ways to make you feel at ease.

by the end of the date, you’d grown comfortable enough to start asking him questions. the two of you talked for so long that you didn’t notice the restaurant had emptied. when you finally left, the night felt far from over. kento drove you to the beach, where the two of you walked hand in hand along the shore. the sound of the waves filled the comfortable silence between you, and when you stopped to look at the moonlight reflecting on the water, he turned to you and asked, “may i kiss you?”

your heart raced, but you nodded, and when he kissed you, it was as if you were something fragile, precious. he didn’t want to rush you or make you uncomfortable, but under the glow of the moon, he couldn’t resist the beauty of the moment—or of you.

after that, the two of you continued to grow closer, going on more dates and eventually making it official. over time, you began to come out of your shell, though you still retained your social awkwardness. kento loved every part of you, from the way you stumbled over your words to the way you blushed under his gaze. to him, you were perfect exactly as you were, and he made sure you always knew it.

[fastandcarlos]

Whole World On Your Shoulders : ̗̀➛ Lewis Hamilton

summary: with the pressures of his upcoming move weighing down on him, lewis counts on you to reassure him that he's doing the right thing

Your eyes followed Lewis carefully as he walked through your home, watching him drop his bag with a thud, brushing his hands over his face. You placed your phone down, studying him closely as you noticed the frustration that was evident in his expression. 

“Everything alright?” You asked, offering Lewis a soft smile, only for that to drop when he didn’t return it. Instead, he scuffed his feet on the ground, throwing himself down beside you. 

“I can’t win,” Lewis sighed, feeling your arms quickly wrap around his frame, pulling him into your chest. “I’m doing well with Mercedes but people keep making me feel guilty about leaving. And now I’m winning again, Ferrari are telling me about all these expectations they have for me.” 

“I'm sorry," you whispered, pressing a kiss against Lewis' head as he cuddled himself into your side, desperate for a touch of comfort from your hold. 

Your head rested on top of his, entangling your legs in with his own. “I’ve got so much pressure on my shoulders right now, there’s so many people who I need to try and impress, what if I mess up and just end up disappointing everyone?” 

“That’s not going to happen Lew, you’ve not disappointed anyone in nearly twenty years of racing.” 

It broke your heart seeing how frail Lewis was as he held you, struggling to maintain his composure. For quite some there had been a little bit of pressure, it was only natural for someone who was about to sign with Ferrari, but as contract start came closer, the pressure was only mounting more. 

“What am I supposed to do baby?” Lewis nervously asked you, tilting his head back slightly to try and look up at you. 

His voice sounded as if it was on the verge of desperate, a tone from Lewis that you hadn’t heard for quite some time. He liked to be composed and not let you in whenever he was struggling, but today it seemed as if he had decided that he was going to do the complete opposite. 

“No matter what I do I’m upsetting someone, it’s bitter for Mercedes but a joy for Ferrari that I’m doing well right now,” Lewis continued to huff, “they keep telling me they’re happy for me, but I know they don’t mean it, they don’t want me to go.” 

Your hand brushed gently over the top of his head, “you don’t need to worry about all of them, you need to focus on doing what’s best for you, regardless of who you upset.” 

Lewis hummed in agreement with what you had to say, he’d spent so long working as part of a team, but now his new decision was a selfish one. His career didn’t have much longer left and he wanted to make the choices that would be best for him, not for anyone else. 

The biggest cheerleader for him when making that decision was absolutely you. You’d encouraged him immensely to make the call that was best for him. Whether it was Mercedes or Ferrari, you were going to support him with it regardless. 

“Thank you,” Lewis whispered, “for always being here for me to help me out.” 

You never wanted to be thanked by Lewis, you never expected it from him either. All you did was care, and if you were needed to pick him back up and give him a boost, then you were going to do that without even having to think about it. 

“You know, people would dream about being you,” you told him. 

“They'd be stupid too," Lewis scoffed, "I wouldn’t want anyone to have to work under the pressure that I'm working under. The only reason I manage it most of the time is because I have you here.” 

“I’m nothing to do with this,” you laughed, only for Lewis’ head to shake as you spoke. 

He wished you saw more of the impact you had on him and how helpful all of the little things that you did were for him. “Just you being here means the world love, the feeling of knowing I’m not alone makes such a difference,” he admitted. 

You could feel in Lewis’ hold just how much he wanted, or needed, to have you there. He was terrified of you letting go, the one person who he could always count on leaving him. You didn’t even need to do or say anything, just being there was more than enough for him. 

“I’m incredibly proud of you, I don’t tell you that enough,” you mused. 

Your words were like music to Lewis’ ears, the perfect pick up that he needed. At times it felt like no one was proud of him now, they were disappointed, confused, some even angry, but they didn’t understand Lewis like you did, they didn’t understand why the decision needed to be made. 

“Will you be there at the last few races?” Lewis tentatively asked, taking a tight hold of your hand. “It’s going to be tough, and I’d really love for you to be there, for me.” 

Without even thinking, your head nodded in response to his question. If he was honest, he was terrified of leaving Mercedes, leaving everything that had become so comfortable over the past decade, it was a goodbye that was going to be far from easy. 

“I don’t say it enough, but I really am thankful for all that you do,” Lewis told you once again, “not many people could put up with someone like me.” 

It had its difficulties dating Lewis, you couldn’t deny it, but that was far outweighed by all the positives. You didn’t want the easy life, you enjoyed the challenges, the highs and the lows, all the boring bits and the exciting bits that left you thrilled. 

“I’m going to be right here to ease that weight you’re carrying on your shoulders,” you insisted, “you don’t ever have to worry about carrying it alone.” 

“I know,” Lewis smiled, “that’s what makes us such a good team.” 

You hummed in agreement with Lewis, you two clicked perfectly together, you had such a clear understanding of one another and knew exactly how to be there for the other. 

“I don’t quite know how the next season is going to pan out, I can’t promise that next year will be easy, but I’m still going to be there and putting you first,” Lewis assured you, kissing against the top of your shoulder. “It’s going to be a rollercoaster, but that’s how we like it.” 

“You always promised me life wouldn’t be easy.” 

Relief hit you as a chuckle came from Lewis, “I’ve no doubt it’s going to be amazing, because we’ll be right there together.” 

Ferrari was going to be new to everyone, but you had every confidence that it would work out, if anyone knew how to overcome a challenge, it was definitely Lewis. 

“Try not to worry about everything that’s coming our way,” you whispered, “for once, we’re going to be selfish for a while.” 

Lewis nodded in agreement, “it’s about time that we put ourselves first for a little while, don’t you think?” 

“I couldn’t agree more, we’ve got to be our number ones for once.” 

“Screw what anyone else thinks anyway.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[missdrarrydawn]

Hera wanted Athena to win

Guys hear me out, this is my conspiracy theory LMAO

I feel like in God Games when Athena is battling the Gods to help Ody, of all of them, Hera wanted her to win the whole time.

Hera is the final "level" of the game, and if Athena convinces her to say yes, then it's a yes and Ody must be released, and I'm sure Hera knew that fact.

Now look at what all the other Gods say.

Each of them gives a very specific reason why they don't want Ody to be freed.

Apollo's reason is slaughtering the sirens.

Hephaestus' reason is the Scylla sacrifice.

Aphrodite's reason is abandoning his mother.

Ares' reason is being cowardly in the Trojan war.

And then, we get to Hera, and she's just like 'Yeah just give me any good reason and I'll agree to let him go'. She has no qualms with Odysseus, she has no motivation even to fight with Athena on this. She doesn't really require convincing, per se.

She's legitimately just asking Athena to give her any half decent justification so she can say yes and make it look legit in front of Zeus.

The whole time as Athena is giving Hera reasons, Hera is also continuously egging her on to give her a better one, a more sound one that would look really convincing. She's saying things like 'Try Harder' and 'You can do better than that.'

So my theory is that after Zeus announced the God Games, Hera saw it as a chance to stick it to him for once, for all his cheating and disloyalty to their marriage, so she wanted Athena to win, and played her cards accordingly.

All she needed was Athena to give her any half-decent justification for her to say yes, so that the games look legitimate, but ultimately she was on her side the whole time. She made the game really easy for Athena, because she gave her free reign to think of absolutely anything and everything she possibly could in favor of Ody, instead of giving her a specific, niche argument she has to fight against.

Additionally, Hera is the goddess of marriage in the pantheon, and even if she doesn't care the least little bit about Odysseus, I am willing to bet she very much cares about Penelope.

Think about it, Hera herself is stuck in an awful marriage to Zeus and is not very happy about that. And she would 100% relate to Penelope's struggles of being alone, missing her husband and trying to ward off the suitors who are trying to force her into a, let's be real, abusive marriage with Antinous.

Hera as a wife definitely sympathizes with Penelope as a wife, and releasing Odysseus so he can return to Penelope is the only way to help her be protected again.

So there you go. My conspiracy is that Hera for one absolutely wanted Athena to win the entire time. I think she at the very least tried to help her, I mean she couldn't have known that Zeus would fucking kill her for winning LMAO

[daimus]

every touch like a modified blow

Sae has always been a softer authority. 

wc — 1.6k

tags — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, omegaverse, beta sae x omega reader, my Sae is always a predator, literally the devil himself, fingering, reader is drunk, mindlessness (?) omega space (?) idk how to tag this but let me know if you need something tagged, title borrowed from an Anne Carson essay

“You’re tiresome, you know that?” 

Sae picks you up from the club in the way he likes you best: messy hair and smeared makeup and a mouth that’s begging to be kissed, pouting and bitten raw. He resists. It’s dawn. Light spills into the rosy sky like water from a glass, and you are laughing against his throat with a brightness that hurts his heart. 

“Stop that,” he says, a hand gently pressing your face against from his neck. “You know you won’t smell anything.”

He rolls his eyes at you when you paw at his scent patches anyway. The effort it takes to peel them off will be wasted. You inhale sharply as your press your nose right up against his warm, salty pulse. It’s just sweat, just skin, just Sae, but you’re breathing - panting, really - like he’s capable of giving off actual scent like an omega or an alpha. 

“Won’t you say something?” He asks. “Or am I alone in this conversation?” 

“What do you want to hear?” Your voice is dry and cracked. He gets up to pour you a glass from the pitcher. 

“Something less obsequious maybe,” he observes dryly. 

“I can’t help it,” you say, your smile darting around your mouth like a nervous animal, but why are you nervous? It’s just Sae. You're already reaching out to him even though he’s barely been gone for a minute. “It’s my biology.”

His hands are sympathetic as they stroke your hair. His words are not. “Biology is a starting point, not the end product. Don’t make excuses.” 

You go silent again. 

“And don’t huff.” 

You turn your head to bite his hand, the one petting your hair. 

“Brat,” he says fondly, and then, as if to overcorrect for the mistake of showing his affection, he pins you down against the sofa. 

Sae would never hurt you. But you love him, and love feels like fear - especially when he doesn’t tell you how he feels. Some partners say sweet things but act differently. Sae is the opposite. He doesn’t speak. You have to read everything through his actions. 

“Stay down,” he commands. “I’m going to get your makeup wipes. Don’t move.” 

He finds you halfway on the ground when he comes back, struggling to get out of your shirt, which suddenly feels two times too small. 

“You’re just begging for it, huh?” Sae says, setting the little packet of wipes down next to you. “Do you want me to punish you?” 

You throw a loose, easy smile over your right shoulder at him - or your left - it’s hard to tell when you’re on the ground contorted like this. It’s alcohol-wobbly, your smile distorted by the way your cheeks aren’t moving the way you’re used to. 

“You’re so drunk, baby,” he says, amused. 

“Want it, Sae,” you chirp up at him. “You can punish me.” 

He pats your head. It feels strangely nice. You don’t remember being pet by your parents in your youth or anyone else. Sae is the first. If he has anything to say about it, he’ll be the last. 

“I’ve never seen someone so happy to be scolded.” 

You lean into him, trying to show him what you want. It’s the way he communicates, after all, and Sae listens best when you meet him at his level. That’s how you end up in his lap, still half stuck in your shirt with your arms all but bound behind your back. 

“Punishment?” You tilt your head at him as he frees you. He runs light fingerprints over the red marks on your arms and shoulders with a soft, disapproving click of his tongue. 

“No,” he says, finally dropping his hands. “I don’t think you should get what you want. I’m going to make you feel good instead. Well-“ his mouth curves into a barely there smile that your brain registers as danger in the same way the bright color of a frog means poison. “You’re going to make yourself feel good.” 

Your brain works over this statement. “Huh?” 

You don’t understand until Sae has your panties off and is fucking two fingers into you. He’s just tall enough like this that he can kind of overwhelm you, his chin resting on top of your head, his chest to your back. 

“Go on,” he says, almost disinterestedly, like he’s not knuckle deep in your cunt. “Make yourself feel nice.” 

“Sae,” your voice rises. It’s a question. 

“Don’t be scared,” he presses a kiss against your neck, then your shoulder. His mouth is warm, not hot, but it burns against your skin. You remember the scald for longer than you should. “Fuck yourself on my fingers.”

Sae doesn’t get mean when you’re drunk. He’s always patient and gentle with you. He never does anything you don’t want to do. He only gets more vocal, a little more rough with his language. You don’t know why vulnerability in you unlocks this in him, but it does. 

Hesitantly, you lift your hips. His other hand wraps itself around your waist, helping you bounce in his lap as you try to mimic his rhythm from what you remember. Soon enough, you grind to a halt even as the pleasure building in you protests. 

“Why’d you stop? You can’t?”

You shake your head. 

“Oh, of course.” He sounds so pleased about it. “You don’t want to.” 

You don’t even have the nerve to say it out loud, so you can only nod your head. You could get off from this, but you’d rather have him do it. The way you desire him is devastating. You’ll never be able to recover from it. 

“It’s okay,” he says. “I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of everything.” 

A third finger slips in, and then for the first time, Sae presses his thumb against your clit. You jerk like you’ve been shocked with electricity. 

He smothers a smile against your hair, rubbing his cheek against the top of your head, almost cat-like. You’re too busy drowning in pleasure to notice this moment, but he’ll remember this for the two of you. 

He continues to pet at your clit ruthlessly, little touches that have you choking on that growing sensation within your belly. You’re so full of him, of it, that you imagine you can taste it in the back of your throat. Something like fear has been knocked loose inside of you and the trembling grows with it. 

It’s too intense. You’re scared of it. It’s going to burn you up, inside out. It’s going to hurt as much as it feels good. 

“Relax,” Sae mutters. “Let go.” 

Your instincts are howling and scratching at you, but you have no idea what nature is telling you to do. 

“Can’t-“ you can’t stop moving even now, can’t stop chasing what you know you won’t reach. “Can’t- Sae- help me!” 

“What’s wrong?” He coos. “I told you to make yourself feel good.” 

“Sae,” his name comes out on a broken moan. “Sae.” 

All but that fades into incoherence, robbed from you by something indescribably old, written into your cells. The feeling is still building, like pressure but if pressure had sharp teeth. You gasp and hold on to him. 

Once, as a child, you ran from a flood to higher ground. This time, nothing will save you. 

Because it’s not fear, which can burn away in daylight. It’s your consciousness, whole and entire, crumbling before you and you want it. Like an animal, you want to lose all control.

If you give everything to Sae, won't he take such good care of it?

“Come on,” Sae whispers directly into your ear. “What happened to your biology?” 

He says it like a taunt, but you have nothing left in you to care. After all, he’s right. Your brain is gone and your nature has taken over. 

You turn your face against him so as to muffle your noises, loud, wet; your mouth gumming against his shirt in a mindless bite that does nothing, goes nowhere. Sae wants to hear you even more than he wants to see you when he comes, but he lets you be and focuses on working over your clit. 

“There we go,” he says softly. “There’s my omega.” 

“Alpha,” you whine back, completely lost. You’re drooling for him, so wet it leaks onto his pants. 

“Not quite,” Sae says. His mouth twitches with the knife edge of his smile, a sharp thing that there’s then gone. 

“How many do you think you can give me?” He asks. Your pussy twitches around him, aware that he’s talking but not sure what he’s really saying. 

“Sorry. Forgot you can’t reply,” he says. “We’ll play it by ear.” 

That’s okay with you. 

Sae is the jagged rocks you break yourself against. The freezing water beneath the bridge you drive off. The burn of smoke from that first drag of addiction. 

Sae is a means of self destruction that you are all too happy to use. Wanting and hungry, you always crawl back for more. 

That’s what he counts on, anyway. 

He breaks you down. You break him open. 

Inside the hard shell of him is something sweet and gooey. 

Whatever Sae is when he’s with you is doting and pliant. It coos over you like it can’t help itself. He’s not an alpha. He doesn’t dominate. There’s no need, much less desire. Sae has always been a softer authority. 

His heart is all tender for you, soft and open. 

[flametrashiraarchive]

hi there!! could I request a sanemi x reader where the reader is either taken or severely injured by a demon?? I am a SLUT for a good protective angst to fluff so you may take any and all creative liberties🤭🤭

Argh this hurt so good haha. Poor 'Nemi 😭 thank you for your ask! I hope you enjoy it!

Cw for you being badly injured, blood, swearing, being in a coma. No sex, just pain and suffering (with a happy ending)

Sanemi Shinazugawa x injured reader

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" Sanemi presses his hand firmly to your stomach to stem the bleeding. "Not you. Not you too. You're not fucking leaving me, understand?"

His heart is pounding in his chest, his blood running cold. The demon who injured you is already dead, but if it wasn't Sanemi would kill it all over again and again and again. How fucking dare that monster do this to you? He wants to tear it apart.

"Talk to me. Say something, goddamn it." His voice cracks as he begs you. 

You're barely clinging to consciousness as you reach up and caress his face, accidentally smearing your blood across his cheek. "'Nemi… it's okay."

"No it's not fucking okay, moron."

And then you pass out, and he realizes those are the last words he may ever say to you. 

It's his fault. All of it. 

If he'd fought harder, been firmer with you about you staying home for this mission, taken out both demons instead of trusting you to deal with one of them. If only if only if only. 

Sanemi's life has been plagued with if onlys. He presses his forehead to yours and prays. Who he is praying to, he has no idea… you, the gods, Buddah, death itself… anyone who'll listen.

"Please, please, please. Not you. Not you." 

Hot tears roll down his cheeks as he keeps applying pressure to your wound. His kasugai crow is on its way to bring help. All he can do is hold in your guts and plead.

"Don't leave me alone."

He puts his cheek against yours so his lips are by your ear. "I'll marry you. I'll treat you like goddamn royalty. I'll do anything, just stay. Stay with me." His voice breaks. "Stay. With. Me. Please!"

He doesn't let go. Even when the medical squad comes to help, he keeps the pressure on your wound until they pull him off. And then he holds your hand. He holds it the entire way to the butterfly mansion. He holds it as they operate and put you in a bed to recover, as the doctors come and tell him things he can't understand. All he cares about is whether or not you'll survive. 

Why won't you wake up??

It doesn't matter if you have to rest for months: he'll take care of you while you're bedridden and make sure you take your medicines exactly on time. It doesn't matter if you'll struggle with training for a while: he'll kick your ass all the way through rehab and make you even stronger. He'll change dressings, cook, clean, anything. 

Just…

"Come back to me," he whispers, holding your hand to his forehead as the sun sets on the fifteenth day of your coma. "Wake up, please." 

He's sleeping when you finally do.

Your vision slowly refocuses to find him resting his head on the bed beside your arm, his hand still wrapped around yours. He stirs as you run your fingers through his fluffy white hair, a faint, sleepy smile curving his lips before he snaps back to consciousness and bolts upright.

The force with which he hugs you damn near knocks you into another coma. 

"Don't do that again," he whispers. "You hear me?"

It hurts, but you smile. "I love you too."

He buries his face against your neck and holds you tight, unwilling to ever let you slip away again.

[metranart]

My one and only wants you, so he’ll have you (Part 6)

ft. Sensei! Gojo Satoru, sensei! Suguru Geto, reader insert.

Gojo Satoru and Suguru Geto happily married, you, their lovely student and the cause of their ragging temptation. The problem: their son, Megumi, your best friend.

⭕️ NSFW ARTWORK OF THIS CHAPTER

𖦹 Warning tags: Gojo x Reader x Geto, threesome, married couple, Suguru and Gojo happy married couple, polyamory, Teacher-Student Relationship.

-

Megumi raised an eyebrow, suspicious. "What's going on?”

Without a doubt, they had raised Megumi to be better than them, more skilled, stronger, and way more, smarter...

“What’s going on where?” Gojo feigned innocence, cocking his head to the side slightly. “I don’t-”

“-Sure, you do, Satoru.” Megumi was quick to interrupt holding the same eyebrow up. 

“Dad, you are supposed to call me Dad or Daddy, how many timed do I have to ask you, Megumi.” Gojo teased, hiding his nervousness behind fake annoyance, all his efforts put on gaining a few more minutes. 

Megumi growled in annoyance at the old act his adoptive father used to play when he wanted to get his attention. Since he was little, was always the same fight with Satoru Gojo-... the young adult swallowed his annoyance and instead tried to go downstairs to get you, only to find himself flanked by Gojo, but this time by his broad body getting strategically on the way.

"Why are you blocking my way?" Megumi asked without patience, and Gojo snickered, lamely.

"Am I?" chuckled out the special grade sorcerer awkwardly, "...you misunderstand me, my child, I-I…I just want a kiss on the cheek from my Gumi-"

"NO!" Megumi’s voice raised, cheeks coloring with embarrassment, and Gojo saw it as his chance to take advantage of his obvious discomfort to get closer, to block his path better, to buy more time for you to come back from that mind-blowing orgasm he had just given you, all disguised behind his typical and characteristic needy self, finally his spoiled personality will serve someone else’s than him. "Come on, Gumi. Give Daddy a goodnight kiss-"

"...You're crazy, I'm not a child anymore... stay away!" Megumi grunted, pressing his strong palm on Satoru’s face who kept insisting on invading his personal space, lips raised, pouting like a fool who was ready to steal that embarrassing kiss. "Stop it, Satoru!"

"Satoru, leave him alone, he didn't even want to kiss you as a child... now that he's older, even less so." Both struggling sorcerers heard Geto say with an amused chuckle right next to them.

Satoru pouted throwing a tantrum but internally highly relieved, if Geto was there that meant that you...

"Satoru-sensei, if you're going to be harassing us like that, I'd better go," your voice made its appearance, that hint of tiredness and shortness of breath disguised behind false irritation.

"(Y/N)," Megumi sounded surprised, his cheeks exploding at being caught in such an awkward domestic scenario and forcing himself to use all his strength pushed Gojo off him.

"How mean are my favorite students with their poor sensei," Gojo complained, putting a hand against his chest to feign indignation, "...if I didn't know that I was your favorite professor, I'd be offended-"

"You're not our favorite professor." Megumi answered mercilessly, and you supported him, only to fall once again into the usual protocol, a protocol that would chase away any suspicion from Megumi's mind of what was really happening between you and his parents.

"Nanami is our favorite." You delivered the final thrust, and Gojo's shoulders drooped comically, Suguru laughing at the comical outcome.

From where he stood, the curse-eater could see from the corner of his eye that slight tremor that accompanied your knees, the way the muscles in your thighs continued to have involuntary spasms, your pretty hands squeezing your uniform shirt to catch your breath and summoning all your strength to keep you upright when the only thing you wanted at that moment was to collapse and rest.

That orgasm had been way too intense, it was the longest minute of your life, you had never cum so fast and so hard, every nerve felt on fire, your sensei had ripped every ounce of strength from your body, and you could only think about now was sleep.

"-It's late, maybe we should go rest, Megumi."

You suggested quickly, hoping that you could catch your breath in the arms of Morpheus, clean the saliva that covered your thighs and pussy, and sleep under Megumi's sweet and safe company.

Megumi nodded, handing the briefing to Satoru and offering you his hand, which you took without hesitation to let him guide you up to his room.

"Leave the door open," Suguru commented a little too firmly, and immediately regretted his involuntary spurt of unnecessary jealousy.

"We are not children anymore, Suguru-san. Good night." Was Megumi's final response.

Gojo and Suguru were reduced to wishing you goodnight, there was nothing else they could do, they had to control themselves no matter how much what was happening bothered them.

"G-Good night, Suguru-san, Satoru-san." You said and both softened their voices to respond.

"Good night, (Y/N)."

"Sleep well, little one."

A growl was the last thing that was heard before the door to Megumi's room was closed and the latch put on, you were now inside the room of their adopted son, and they couldn't feel more uneasy.

-

No matter how much you insisted, Megumi wouldn't let you sleep on the futon on the floor, giving you his bed instead.

"I don't mind, (Y/N). I prefer that tomorrow you are at your best for the mission." He had said without letting you protest, getting into the futon and watching you from below as you climbed onto her bed and snuggled against her pillow. 

“Thank you, Gumi.” 

Were the last words you directed at him making him smile timidly before darkness reigned in the room as did silence, only a ray of moonlight subtly illuminating one part of the room until Megumi's eyes became accustomed to the shadows.

How he wanted to be in that same bed with you, his arms around you, your face against his chest, your warm breath against his skin.... he had to stop thinking about it or he couldn't control himself. 

Megumi closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, and his cheeks flushed when he opened his eyes again and found you looking at him from the edge of her mattress. A mischievous smile kidnapped your lips, and you couldn’t stop to tease him.

"What were you thinking, Megumi Fushiguro?" you asked him in a not-so-innocent whisper, "your cheeks are red, and you look agitated..." you continued, ignoring how uncomfortable he looked, "tell me, best friends don't keep secrets from each other."

Megumi gulped and you could see the abrupt movement of his Adam's apple.

"-Nothing interesting," the black-haired man answered, looking away.

"Liar,” you accused, “don't you trust me?" you asked him and this time, his mouth opened without his permission, letting out his biggest insecurity.

"Trust? How dare you-” he cut himself mid-speech and instead, asked. “... You like older men?"

"Older men?" you repeated dazedly.

The question was out there with all its implications and silence reigned once again in the room, "I know I declared my feelings to you this morning but-" Megumi steeled himself, "-but I need to know if you prefer them... "

Megumi's heart beat a mile a minute. You're smart, he doesn't need to say more for you to know who he's referring to. He's not stupid, he's not easy to fool... of course, he noticed the traces of sweat covering your face, your rosy cheeks and your shortness of breath, combined with Satoru's needy attitude so suddenly, something was happening and even though he refused with fervent stubbornness to believe that you could have an affair with his guardians... he needed to say it out loud and hear you deny it out loud. Megumi wants you for himself, you are soulmates. Satoru and Suguru already have each other, it's only fair that they let him have you.

Your silence felt like a hot knife piercing his beating heart, that heart that for years has only beaten for you, for your attention, for your affection.

Megumi sighed heavily, and this time it was anger at your cowardice that made him insist.

"Who do you prefer? Satoru or Suguru?" this time his question dripped venom, "Despite their age, both are still very popular with-"

"I prefer you." Your sudden confession stopped him in his tracks, and his heart skipped a beat.

"Don't just tell me what I want to hear, (Y/N)-"

His stubborn mouth was silenced as your soft lips claimed it. Slowly he felt you crawling from the safety of the bed towards his dangerous futon, where he would no longer be or want to be the kind boy who only held your hand timidly.

Your tongue pushed its way between his lips and Megumi's crotch woke up, firm and throbbing against his pajama pants. His hips stuttering up against your warm, covered core, he doesn't want to force you into anything you don't want but he's not in control anymore.

"...Are you sure?" Megumi forced himself to ask and immediately scolded himself for fear of a refusal, but you grinned against his mouth and your tongue licked his lips before asking.

"You do not want?"

Megumi nodded, "I want, I want you more than I need air." The black-haired man declared fervently, "...I just want you to-"

"I want to, Megumi." You voiced out and he shuddered with excitement, "I want you to do to me everything you've been planning for almost two years-"

"Three years, hun." Megumi revealed, stealing little pecks from your panting lips, "Three agonizing years, I've loved you since you set foot in school-"

"Then don't hold back, Megumi." And that was all the permission the young adult needed to let go.

His head shifted to the side finding refuge in the hollow of your neck. Slightly parted lips pressing too insistently against the tender skin as he bathed it in warm, elaborated breaths. 

“You had your chance.” Megumi warned and soon, there was nothing innocent or gentle about the way his lips moved against yours, or his hands slipped under your pajamas, or the way he gets rid of those cumbersome layers of clothes.

This boy’s actions were fierce and desperate, could feel the heat radiating with each touch, each movement was devastatingly daring and conceived just to drive you to the edge and let you rush into the abyss of his very soul. It was the true essence of a greedy man who had been asleep for far too long under layers of control. Each layer had been ripped apart by your acceptance of his feelings and now only the raw man remained, wide awake and hungry.

You felt at his mercy, more precisely, like his willing prey. 

Megumi grew too enamored with the plush curve of your hips and all restriction flew away from his rational grasp.

“Fuck-…. Do your very best not to scream, baby.” 

PART 7

⭕️ NSFW ARTWORK OF THIS CHAPTER.

[hyuckswoman]

“are you going to bother me again?” you sigh seeing jisung putting his stuff in the empty spot next to you

“of course i am, how is that even a real question?” he says smiling getting ready for the class “do you have a major degradation kink or something? I fail to understand why you would take so much time off your day to piss me off” you ask your eyes trying to scrutinize him. “you talk weird ‘fail to understand’ okay mrs english major” he laughs taking his pen out of his pencil case writing down calculus quietly sighing at how this class was going to beat his ass “whatever” you sigh getting your stuff out to also get ready for the class. your teacher was pissy and scary also you did not want to get overwhelmed so quickly during the semester. in other words, you were not going to let jisung win.

“do you need help jisung?” the teacher was doing quick rounds in the class, assuring that his students were not getting overwhelmed by the exercise he had just assigned. the multivariable calculus class was almost empty for a reason and he did not want to lose his job, so he had to at least make sure the few students attending his class weren’t failing.

upon hearing the teacher’s question, jisung’s first instinct was to look up at you to see if you were making fun of him or not. call him insecure but he had kind of always been jealous of how easy the material was for you. when you threatened to haunt him to- and i quote- mess up his academics he kinda laughed because in all honesty? he was capable of that all on his own. and judging by the look on his teacher’s face when jisung replied “no i’m fine thank you”, he wasn’t the only one who knew that he and him alone could fuck up this college year.

when the teacher quietly called for your name and asked you to help jisung you wanted to laugh in his face and to tell him no, but something about an older man that’s a figure of authority in your life made you immediately respond “yea no problem” because in no way were you ever going to say no to this scary scary man. jisung debated in between being super embarrassed by the fact that he was the only one who struggled with the material (he wasn’t but he’s self-centered so he doesn’t notice other people) or in being slightly happy that the teacher was giving him an easy way to make your life living hell for the next 30ish minutes.

you mentally sighed as you knew what was coming but still glided your paper over to jisung’s side to at least give it one fair try and then automatically give up when he doesn’t take you seriously. so you began to explain. “in this example we’re trying to find this partial derivative so x is the constant right? so basically what you have to do is apply this limit formula since y is the constant and the derivative is with respect to x. the reason why we can use this limit formula is because the limit definition of this partial derivative is basically the same as the one for the derivative. im sorry if that wasn’t super clear but just yea i’m shit at explaining” you say fully expecting him to throw a jab at you for being a nerd (as if you guys don’t share the same classes)

“no i get it, thank you. i just don’t understand why we’re not considering the other variables” he says furrowing his brows further “it’s because that’s not what’s asked when doing partial differentiation that’s it. we’re focusing one variable at a time that’s why it’s partial…i think” you answer “oh okay that makes sense. so for this one this would be the answer?” he asked showing you his notebook. he has neat handwriting. atypical for a man. “yea, at least that’s also what i found but we might both be wrong” you shrug not too confident in your own answer (even if you literally cannot think of any other way to solve this mess).

and if him taking you seriously when you explained the material instead of bothering you or making fun of you did not surprise you enough, him constantly showing you his answers and asking you questions for the rest of class did. what really shocked you to your core was when he asked if you could tutor him with some classes some day, seeing as tough you guys literally shared every class.

he was also very shocked when you replied “no, suck my dick you ass. im not forgiving you for snooping through my phone just yet”. and he laughed a lot. this semester was really going to be fun for him.

4. no tutoring

last chapter masterlist next chapter

notes : sorry for the late chapter!

taglist: @kgyam4 @sunghoonsgfreal @injunnie-lemon @nctrawberries @222low @multifandomania @joyzluvr @starwonb1n @222brainrot @sinsgaybutthatsokay @defzcl @lostinneocity @junviadinho @mrshwang-park @skepvids @wonbin-truther @jkslvsnella @jising-jisang-jisung @nanaxwi @polarisjisung @amrqxz @jirsungs @haechansbbg @dalsosapple @pookime @pinklemonade34 @lotties-readings @roseangelxfuma @jiiieun @inosfavgf @mystverse

[lila-lou]

✨ His second exception - Pt. 2/? ✨

Summary: The moment Ben found out you were pregnant was probably the happiest moment of his life. However, happiness proved fleeting. Now, he is faced with the aftermath of his shattered dreams. Of what is left of you, and what is left of him.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language, Ben being hurt, Reader being hurt, soft Ben, sad Ben, Ben loosing his shit- it´s STILL a fucking mess

Word Count: 5981

A/N: This is the sequel to “His only exeption” - and Part 2 of "His second exception".

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

It had been three days since you returned from the hospital, and the house felt eerily silent. Ben had been trying, so hard, to get you to talk to him, but you couldn’t. Every time he asked a question or tried to start a conversation, you barely managed more than a monosyllabic response.

You spent most of your time in bed, staring at the ceiling or out the window, lost in your own world of pain. You barely ate or drank, and your physical and emotional exhaustion seemed to deepen with each passing hour. The grief was all-consuming, a dark cloud that overshadowed everything else.

Ben was at his wit’s end. He wanted to help, to ease your pain, but he felt powerless. He had tried bringing you your favorite meals, but they remained untouched. He had tried sitting with you in silence, hoping his presence alone would be enough, but it seemed to have little effect.

On the morning of the fourth day, Ben decided he couldn’t let this go on any longer. He needed to reach you, to pull you out of this spiral of despair. He found you in bed, as usual, your eyes blankly staring ahead. With a heavy heart, he sat down beside you, his hand gently resting on your arm.

“Hey”, he said softly, trying to catch your gaze. “I know you’re hurting. I am too. But we can’t keep going on like this. Please, talk to me. Tell me what you’re feeling”.

You didn’t respond, your eyes flickering with a mix of emotions. It was clear that you were struggling, caught in a web of grief and numbness. Ben’s hand tightened slightly on your arm, a gentle squeeze of encouragement.

“Please, just let me in”, he continued, his voice breaking slightly. “I can’t stand seeing you like this. I want to help”.

You turned your head slowly, your gaze meeting his for the first time in days. “Just leave me alone”, you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of sorrow and frustration. “I can’t do this right now, Ben. Just… please”.

Your words cut through Ben’s usual cold and unhurtable demeanor like a knife. He felt his heart clench painfully in his chest. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. He had always been the strong one, the one who never let anything get to him. But now, seeing you in so much pain and being unable to do anything about it, he felt utterly helpless.

“Alright”, he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll give you space. But please, if you need anything, anything at all, just let me know".

You turned away from him, tears streaming down your face, as he slowly stood up and left the room. The silence that followed was deafening, a reminder of the emptiness you felt inside.

Ben walked downstairs, feeling more lost than he ever had. He wanted to scream, to punch something, to do anything to release the frustration and pain that was consuming him. Instead, he walked into the living room and sat down on the couch, his head in his hands.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, staring blankly at the floor, before he left the house.

Eventually Ben couldn’t bear the suffocating silence any longer. He stood up from the couch and left the house, feeling like a shadow of himself. On the way to his car, he pulled out his phone and texted you, his fingers trembling slightly as he typed.

“I’m heading to the tower. If you need anything, call me”.

He slipped his phone back into his pocket and got into the car, the drive to the tower feeling both too short and agonizingly long. Each mile away from you felt like a betrayal, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that his presence was doing more harm than good.

When he arrived at the tower, he parked and walked in, feeling the familiar weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. He needed to be Soldier Boy now, to bury his personal pain and focus on something, anything, that could keep him from falling apart.

As he entered the meeting room, he found Butcher and Annie still discussing the repairs. They looked up as he walked in, their expressions a mix of concern and surprise.

“Ben”, Annie said softly.

Ben's demeanor shifted almost instantly as he entered the meeting room. The weight of his personal anguish was momentarily pushed aside as he slipped into his Soldier Boy persona. He greeted Butcher and Annie with a nod, his expression now focused and determined.

"How's the progress on the repairs?".

Butcher and Annie exchanged a glance, recognizing the change in Ben's demeanor. Butcher leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Slow, but steady", he replied. "We're getting there".

Ben nodded, his mind already racing with thoughts of logistics and strategy. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial of cocaine, setting it on the table him. Without missing a beat, he began to prepare a line, his movements practiced and efficient.

Annie and Butcher watched Ben as he prepared the line of cocaine, concern etched on their faces. Annie couldn't help but feel a pang of worry for him. She cleared her throat, her voice soft and tentative.

"Ben, are you… okay?", she asked, her tone filled with genuine concern.

Ben looked up briefly, his eyes glazed and distant. He flashed a strained smile, trying to appear unaffected. "Peachy", he muttered, his voice tinged with bitterness.

As he rubbed the white dust from his nose, Annie exchanged another worried glance with Butcher.

Annie hesitated, sensing the tension in the air, but she pressed on, her voice gentle. "How's… how's (Y/N) holding up?".

Ben's jaw clenched, his frustration bubbling to the surface. He snapped at her, his tone harsh and biting. "Everyone's fucking fine", he growled, his voice laced with anger. "Just pass me the fucking construction report".

Annie recoiled slightly at his outburst. It was clear that Ben was struggling, and they would need to tread carefully around him.

Without a word, Annie handed Ben the construction report.

After a while of talking about the rebuilding, Hughie and Frenchie stepped into the room, their eyes widening as they spotted Ben sitting at the table. They exchanged a confused glance, clearly surprised to see him there.

Frenchie couldn't hide his excitement, a grin spreading across his face. "Soldier Boy!" he exclaimed, his tone laced with genuine happiness. "You're back!".

Butcher shot Frenchie a warning look, silently cautioning him to tread carefully. He knew that Ben was in a fragile state, and they couldn't afford any missteps.

Ben's expression remained impassive, his eyes flickering briefly as he acknowledged Hughie and Frenchie's presence. "Yeah", he muttered, his voice flat. "Back".

Frenchie rambled on, trying to lighten the mood with his usual brand of humor. "Fuck, Butcher", he said with a chuckle, "you were a pain in my arse the last three days. I thought I was going to lose my mind without Soldier Boy around to keep you in check".

Butcher rolled his eyes, but a small smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Meanwhile, Hughie made his way over to Annie, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. "How are you holding up?", he asked softly, his concern evident in his eyes.

Annie nodded in agreement with Hughie's question, her expression grave. "I can't lie, Hughie", she murmured, her gaze flicking towards Ben. "It's good that Ben's here to take a look over everything. The tower's been a mess the last three days, and we could use his leadership. But… he's not in a good mood".

Ben's grumble cut through the air, his frustration evident as he continued to pore over the report. "I can fucking hear you", he muttered under his breath, not bothering to look up from the papers in front of him. He grabbed another file and handed it to Butcher without a word, his jaw clenched with tension.

Annie watched Butcher carefully, then turned her attention back to Ben. "Ben", she began tentatively, "maybe you should take a break. You've been at this for hours".

Butcher glanced at Annie and then back at Ben, his expression unreadable. "She's right, mate", he said gruffly. "You look like shit. You need to get some rest".

Ben's jaw tightened, but he didn't argue. Instead, he pushed himself away from the table and stood up, running a hand through his hair. "Fine", he muttered, his tone terse. "But get those files to A-Train and MM. They need to deal with that supe in Florida".

He handed Butcher the file and then turned to Frenchie, thrusting another folder into his hands. "And you", he said, his voice clipped, "go after the supe in that file. Take your… chinese chick with you".

Frenchie raised an eyebrow but didn't comment, nodding in understanding as he took the file. "Got it", he said simply, his gaze flicking to Annie and Butcher before he headed out of the room.

Annie exchanged a worried glance with Butcher as Ben stormed off, his frustration palpable in the air. It was clear that he was struggling, but for now, all they could do was wait and hope that he would find a way to cope with his grief.

Hughie shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "Say what you want about him, but Soldier Boy sure knows how to get things done", he mumbled, his admiration evident in his tone. "Efficient as hell".

In his office, Ben went for another line, the bitter taste piercing through the haze of his thoughts. He followed it with a sip of whiskey, the burning sensation offering a momentary distraction from the weight of his emotions.

Ben descended to meet with the heads of the departments, his mind focused on the tasks ahead. He outlined the plans for the next few weeks, his voice steady and authoritative as he issued instructions and delegated responsibilities. Despite the turmoil raging within him, he remained composed, his determination unwavering as he worked to keep the organization running smoothly.

Meanwhile, back at home, you moved slowly through the house, your footsteps heavy with the weight of your grief. You found yourself standing in front of the door to the baby's room, a door you had avoided for the past three days.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was just as you had left it, filled with the soft pastels and gentle touches you had so lovingly chosen. The sight of the crib, the tiny clothes, and the toys you had carefully arranged brought a fresh wave of pain crashing over you.

You walked over to the crib, your fingers tracing the delicate patterns on the blanket. Tears blurred your vision as you sat down in the rocking chair.

It was late when Ben finally came back home. The weight of the day's responsibilities and the lingering grief pressed heavily on his shoulders. Part of him dreaded returning, unable to face the sight of your suffering and the possibility of being rejected again, but he knew he had no choice.

As he walked through the house, he searched for you, calling your name softly. There was no response. Panic began to creep in until he noticed the open door of the baby's room. His heart sank as he approached it.

He stepped inside quietly, his eyes quickly finding you curled up and sleeping on the rocking chair, the little plush eagle clutched tightly in your arms. The sight tore at his heart, the depth of your grief mirrored in your posture even as you slept.

Ben knelt down beside the chair, his fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. He could see the tracks of dried tears on your cheeks, your expression troubled even in sleep.

For a moment, he just watched you, his own pain surfacing again. He wanted to hold you, to comfort you, but he feared waking you and causing you more distress. Instead, he sat there, for a while, his presence a silent promise that he was there for you, no matter how difficult things became.

Finally, he reached out and gently touched your shoulder, his voice soft and filled with love. "Hey", he whispered. "Let's get you to bed, okay?".

You stirred, your eyes fluttering open to find Ben's concerned gaze. The sight of him brought a fresh wave of emotions, but you were too exhausted to cry anymore. You nodded weakly, allowing him to help you up from the chair.

Ben wrapped his arms around you, guiding you back to the bedroom. He helped you into bed, tucking the blankets around you with care. As he moved to leave, you grabbed his hand, holding on tightly.

"Stay", you murmured, your voice barely audible. "Please".

Ben's heart ached at the plea, and he nodded, slipping into bed beside you. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you both lay there, enveloped in the shared silence of your grief.

The night passed slowly, Ben lying awake, his mind a storm of thoughts and emotions. He kept his arms around you, hoping that his presence might offer some comfort, even if just a little. But sleep eluded him, his eyes remaining open, staring at the ceiling as the hours ticked by.

When morning came, you stirred in his arms, your eyes fluttering open. The room was dimly lit by the early light of dawn seeping through the curtains. As you fully awoke and realized Ben was still holding you, you turned around, facing away from him, your back to his chest.

Ben felt the shift, a familiar pang of sadness settling in his chest. He understood that you needed space, but it didn’t make it any easier to bear. He released his hold, his arms falling to his sides, giving you the room you seemed to silently ask for.

“I know it’s hard", he murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just want you to know I’m here. I won’t leave you”.

You didn’t respond, the silence heavy and thick between you. The pain of your loss was still raw, a wound that had barely begun to heal. Ben sighed, pressing his eyes shut for a moment, willing himself to stay strong for both of you.

After a few minutes, he slowly got out of bed, moving quietly so as not to disturb you further.

Downstairs, he went through the motions of making coffee, the mundane task a small anchor in the sea of emotional turmoil. He poured himself a cup, but the familiar taste offered little comfort.

His heart ached, but he pushed the pain down, focusing on the present moment. You needed him, even if you couldn’t express it, and he would be there.

After a while, he heard soft footsteps behind him. Turning around, he saw you standing at the foot of the stairs, looking as fragile as he felt. He wanted to reach out, to pull you into his arms and promise that things would eventually get better, but he knew words were useless right now.

“Morning”, he said gently, trying to offer a small semblance of normalcy. “I made coffee. Want one?”.

You just shook your head, the weight of your grief making it hard to form words. You wanted to leave the kitchen, to escape the suffocating memories that seemed to cling to every corner of the house. But Ben reached out, his hands gently grasping your hips in a tender attempt to connect.

The touch, though well-intentioned, felt like a spark igniting a volatile mixture of pain and frustration. You snapped his hands away, your voice rising in a sudden, uncontrollable surge of anger and sorrow.

“Don’t fucking touch me!”, you yelled, the words echoing through the quiet house. Your face contorted with a mix of rage and heartbreak, tears welling up in your eyes once more.

Ben recoiled slightly, the hurt clear in his eyes, but he didn’t back down. “I just… I just want to fucking help you (y/n)”.

“Just leave me alone, Ben”, you sobbed, your voice breaking. “I can’t do this with you. I can’t… I can’t even look at you right now”.

Ben’s heart felt like it was breaking all over again as he watched you retreat, your words like daggers stabbing into his already wounded soul. Once again, you had pushed him away, making him feel like everything was his fault.

He stood there, feeling utterly helpless, as the weight of his own grief threatened to crush him.

He clenched his fists at his sides, his jaw tight with the effort to hold back his own tears. He wanted to scream, to rage against the unfairness of it all, but he knew that wouldn’t change anything.

With a heavy sigh, he turned away, his footsteps heavy as he left the kitchen.

As Ben turned away from the kitchen, the weight of your words still heavy on his heart, he paused for a moment in the doorway. His shoulders slumped with defeat, he mumbled softly, almost to himself, "I'm at the tower".

Without waiting for a response, knowing that none would come, he left the house, his steps heavy with the burden of grief and guilt. Outside, he climbed into his car, the engine rumbling to life as he drove towards the tower.

When he arrived, he didn't waste any time. He quickly changed into his supe suit, the familiar fabric feeling like a second skin. It was a facade, a mask he wore to hide the pain and turmoil raging inside him, but it was the only way he knew how to keep going.

As the days passed, the chasm between you and Ben seemed to widen with each passing moment. At night, when the darkness pressed in and the weight of your grief threatened to suffocate you, you found yourself yearning for his presence, craving the comfort of his arms around you.

But as the sun rose and the day stretched out before you, the ache in your heart turned to anger, and you pushed him away with every ounce of strength you had left. You couldn't bear to look at him, to see the pain in his eyes mirrored in your own, so you shut him out, retreating into your own world of sorrow and silence.

For Ben, each day felt like a battle, a constant struggle to navigate the shifting landscape of your emotions. He wanted to help, to ease your pain and bridge the widening gap between you, but every attempt seemed to only push you further away.

He tried to give you space, to respect your need for solitude, but it tore him apart to see you suffering and know that he couldn't do anything to ease your pain. The nights were the hardest, when he lay awake beside you, listening to the sound of your uneven breathing, knowing that even in sleep, you were haunted by the ghosts of your grief.

But he refused to give up.

This evening was no exception. As Ben emerged from the shower, the towel loosely draped around his hips, he felt the weight of the evening settling around him. He glanced at you lying in bed, the distance between you palpable even in the dim light of the room. It had become a familiar routine – he was only allowed to be around you at night, while over the day you didn’t want to see him or talk to him.

With a heavy sigh, Ben walked towards the closet, his movements slow and deliberate. He could feel your gaze on him, heavy with unspoken words and unanswered questions.

As he pulled on a fresh pair of underwear, he couldn’t shake the feeling of emptiness that seemed to permeate every corner of the room. The silence between you was deafening, a stark reminder of all that had been lost.

Finally dressed, Ben turned towards the bed, his heart heavy with the weight of the evening ahead. He knew that tonight would be no different from any other night – the same silent longing, the same unspoken desires. But still, he couldn’t help but hope that somehow, things would be different.

As soon as Ben slipped inside the bed, you instinctively cuddled against him, seeking the warmth and comfort of his presence. He felt a pang of both relief and sadness as you nestled closer to him, the physical closeness a stark contrast to the emotional distance that had grown between you over the past two weeks.

Unable to resist any longer, Ben finally broke the heavy silence that hung in the air. His voice was soft, tentative, as if afraid of shattering the fragile peace that had settled between you.

“Is this… Is this how it’s going to be from now on?”, he asked. He couldn’t bear the thought of continuing to drift apart, of living in this limbo where neither of you truly knew where you stood.

You didn’t respond immediately, your silence stretching between you like a chasm. Ben held his breath, waiting for any sign of acknowledgment, any indication of what was going through your mind.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know, Ben”, you said, the weight of your uncertainty heavy in the air. “I don’t know if I can go back to how things were before”.

Ben’s heart sank at your words, the fear of losing you threatening to overwhelm him.

Ben sighed heavily, the weight of exhaustion and emotional turmoil bearing down on him like a heavy burden. He looked at you, seeing the toll that the past few weeks had taken on both of you. His heart ached with a mixture of sadness and frustration.

He felt utterly drained from the lack of sleep, from the constant back-and-forth of your emotions, from the feeling of helplessness as he watched you suffer. Each night, he lay awake, his mind spinning with thoughts of what could have been, what should have been.

He was exhausted from hearing your tears, from feeling your anger directed at him, from the overwhelming sense of rejection that seemed to seep into every corner of their relationship. But most of all, he was exhausted from the silent pain of losing a child, a pain that you seemed to have forgotten was his too.

As he lay there beside you, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of bitterness and resentment. He wanted to scream, to shake you and demand to know why you couldn’t see the pain he was in, why you couldn’t offer him the same comfort and support that he had tried so hard to give you.

But he knew that would only push you further away. So instead, he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as if trying to bridge the growing divide between you.

It had been one month since the loss of your baby, and the house felt more like a ghost of the home it once was. Ben had thrown himself into work, spending long hours at the tower because you kept pushing him away. Meanwhile, you remained in your own world, a silent observer of a life that seemed to pass by without you.

You sat on the couch, curled into a blanket, staring out the window, lost in thought. The world outside moved on, but you felt stuck in a place of endless grief and numbness.

The front door opened, and Ben walked in, followed closely by Butcher. You barely registered their presence until Butcher's voice cut through the silence like a knife.

"For fuck’s sake, Soldier Boy!", Butcher snapped, his tone filled with frustration and concern. "You need to sleep. You almost got yourself killed today".

Ben's eyes were dark with exhaustion, the lines on his face deeper than usual. He rubbed his temples, a weary sigh escaping his lips. "I'm fucking fine, Butcher. I can handle it".

Butcher stepped closer, his expression hardening. "No, you bloody well can’t. Look at yourself. You’re a fucking mess, and it's gonna get you killed if you don’t get your shit together".

Ben's jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "I said I’m fine", he repeated, his voice edged with irritation. "Just drop it".

You watched the exchange from your spot on the couch, your heart aching for Ben but feeling too numb to intervene. The room fell silent, the tension thick in the air.

Butcher glanced at you, his expression softening slightly. "You two need to sort this out", he said more quietly. "This can’t go on".

Ben turned to look at you, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before he turned away, the pain in his gaze clear.

You simply stood up, the weight of the moment pressing heavily on your shoulders, and walked upstairs without another word. The sound of your footsteps on the stairs echoed through the house, amplifying the silence that followed.

Butcher turned to Ben, who was pinching the bridge of his nose, looking more defeated than Butcher had ever seen him.

“Ben, you need to face this head-on”, Butcher said, his tone a mixture of frustration and sympathy. “You can’t keep running on fumes and pretending everything’s fine”.

Ben dropped his hand from his face, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and helplessness. “What the fuck do you want me to do, Butcher?”, he snapped. “She doesn’t want to talk to me. She doesn’t want me around half the time. I don’t know what to do anymore”.

Butcher sighed, a heavy weight settling in his chest as he looked at Ben. "I know it's tough, mate. But you can't keep going like this. You need to take a long-ass nap, clear your head, and try talking to her again tomorrow".

Ben nodded, the exhaustion evident in every line of his face. "Yeah, you're probably right", he admitted, his voice heavy with defeat.

Butcher clapped him on the shoulder, offering a small, supportive smile. "Get some rest, Soldier Boy".

With that, Butcher turned and left Ben alone in the living room, the weight of his words hanging in the air. Ben sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair as he contemplated his next move. He knew Butcher was right—he couldn't keep going like this. He needed to find a way to break through the wall of silence between him and you, even if it felt like an impossible task.

With a weary sigh, Ben made his way upstairs to the bedroom, hoping that a few hours of sleep might bring some clarity to the tangled mess of emotions swirling inside him.

As Ben lay beside you in bed, the weight of the past month pressing down on him, he felt a pang of sadness at the growing distance between you. Unlike two weeks ago, when you had sought comfort in his embrace, the last few days had been marked by a coldness that seemed to permeate every interaction between you.

With a heavy heart, Ben reached into his pocket and pulled out the pills Butcher had given him. He swallowed them without hesitation, hoping that they would bring him the elusive sleep that had eluded him for so long.

As he lay there, waiting for the pills to take effect, Ben felt the exhaustion of the past month wash over him like a tidal wave. His eyelids grew heavy, and he welcomed the darkness that enveloped him, if only for a few hours.

With a final sigh, Ben closed his eyes.

The next day, Ben woke up to find himself alone in bed. After taking a shower and getting dressed, he searched for you, eventually finding you sitting on the floor in front of the crib. He approached you cautiously, the tension in the air palpable.

"Hey", he said softly, his voice breaking the silence. "How are you feeling today?".

You remained silent, your gaze fixed on the empty crib before you. Ben's heart sank at the lack of response, but he refused to give up.

"I know this has been hard", he continued, his voice filled with empathy. "But we need to talk about what happened. We can't keep avoiding it forever".

Still, you said nothing, your silence like a barrier between you. Ben sighed, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him.

"Please, (Y/N)", he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can't do this alone. I need you".

You snapped, your frustration boiling over. "Just leave me alone, Ben!", you exclaimed, your voice trembling with emotion.

But Ben, no longer overwhelmed by exhaustion, refused to back down. His patience had worn thin after a month of trying to navigate the minefield of your grief.

"I won't fucking leave you alone", he snapped, his temper finally breaking. "I'm fucking tired of this shit! We need to face this together, whether you like it or not".

His words hung in the air, the tension between you thick and heavy.

Ben’s steps were heavy as he closed the distance between you, his frustration palpable in every movement. With a firm grip, he cupped your jaw, forcing you to meet his intense gaze.

“Fucking look at me when I talk to you!”. His voice cracked with raw emotion, a mix of anger and desperation lacing his words. “Baby, I can’t do this anymore", his voice breaking.

You pushed against Ben's grip, the overwhelming need to escape consuming you. With a determined strength, you stood up, ready to flee the suffocating confines of the room.

But Ben wasn't having it. In a swift motion, he grabbed both of your wrists, his touch firm yet gentle, pulling you back towards him. You stumbled against his chest, the warmth of his embrace enveloping you despite your resistance.

"Let me go", you pleaded, your voice barely a whisper, your heart heavy with sorrow.

But Ben held you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you, refusing to let you slip away. Your hands remained trapped between your bodies, a physical manifestation of the emotional barrier that had grown between you.

"Please", you whispered again, your voice trembling with emotion.

"I can't". Ben replied, his own voice choked with tears. "I can't lose you too".

As you wiggled free from Ben’s grasp once more, determination fueled your steps as you began to walk away from him, your heart heavy with the weight of your shared pain. But within seconds, the air crackled with tension, a palpable sense of impending doom hanging over the room.

All the weeks of Ben suppressing his emotions, of being unable to grieve openly, of shouldering the burden of strength for both of you, came crashing down in a torrent of rage and despair. With a primal scream of anguish, he grabbed the swinging chair nearby, his muscles tensing with the force of his fury.

In one swift, violent motion, he hurled the chair against the baby’s closet, the impact echoing through the room with a deafening crash. The sound of splintering wood and shattering glass filled the air, mingling with your cries of shock and despair.

The closet collapsed under the force of the blow, its contents tumbling out in a chaotic jumble of memories and broken dreams. You stood frozen in horror, tears streaming down your cheeks as you watched the wreckage unfold before you.

As the chaos unfolded before your eyes, you screamed at Ben, the words tearing from your throat in a desperate plea for understanding. "What the fuck are you doing?!". Your voice echoed off the walls, a mixture of fear and anger fueling your words.

But Ben's rage consumed him, his eyes wild with desperation as he stormed towards the changing table. With a primal roar, he brought his fist down with a sickening thud, the wood splintering beneath the force of his blow.

You recoiled in horror, the sound reverberating through your bones as you watched him unleash his fury upon the furniture. But it was when he reached for the crib that your heart skipped a beat, a cold shiver coursing down your spine.

His hands hovered over the crib, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as his eyes landed on the little plush eagle nestled among the blankets. In that moment, time seemed to stand still, the air heavy with the weight of unspoken grief.

Tears welled in Ben's eyes, his chest heaving with emotion as he reached out to touch the soft fabric of the toy. And in that simple gesture, you saw the cracks in his armor, the raw vulnerability hidden beneath his facade of strength.

For a moment, the room fell silent, the only sound the soft whisper of your breath mingling with the quiet sobs that wracked Ben's body.

The soft glow emanating from Ben's chest pierced through the haze of grief that had consumed you for four long weeks. In that moment, the realization hit you like a bolt of lightning: Ben was hurting too. He had been shouldering the weight of your shared pain, sacrificing his own emotions to be strong for you.

With trembling steps, you approached him, the floor cold beneath your bare feet. You watched as he sank to his knees, the plush eagle clutched tightly in his hand, a symbol of the innocence lost and the love that still remained.

Your heart ached as you knelt before him, the weight of your sorrow pressing down upon you like a leaden shroud. But despite the heaviness of your grief, you reached out, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, offering what little comfort you could.

His body trembled beneath your touch, his breaths ragged and uneven as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. Tears mingled with yours.

In that moment, you didn't care about the risk, about the possibility of his radiating chest exploding and engulfing you both in its fiery embrace. All that mattered was the need to hold him close, to offer him the comfort and solace he had so selflessly given you in your darkest hours.

With his face still buried against the curve of your neck, his silent sobs reverberating through your shared embrace, you pressed him closer to you, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck. You could feel the warmth of his tears mingling with your own, a bittersweet symphony of grief and love.

Time seemed to stand still as you held each other amidst the wreckage of your shattered dreams, the world outside fading into insignificance. In that moment, there was only the two of you.

After what felt like an eternity, Ben finally wrapped his arms around your small frame, pulling you closer against him and onto his thighs, his grip strong and unwavering. Without lifting his head, he held you tightly, as if afraid that letting go would mean losing you forever.

———————————

A/N: Honestly, I fucking loved that chapter.. please let me know what you think.🥰

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Part 3

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Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch@mimaria420@kaz11283@uncle-eggy@jackles010378@vxnilla-hxrddrugs @meowmeowyoongles@sarahgracej @zemosdarling228 @leila22rogers @mostlymarvelgirl@emily-winchester @blacknoirr @onlyangel-444@seasonofthenerd@staple-your-mouth@artemys-ackles@selfdestructionandrhum@mystic-mara @kat-nee @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @star-yawnznn @me1501 @CheyNovaK @faephoria @hobby27 @baby19sthings

[whiskeyskin]

Wild and Wanting

Premise: Halsin always puts others first, it's about time he feels like number one 😜🍑🫵

• Halsin x gn! reader • 18+ • Act 3

Gn!Reader POV, light Reader!Dom, submissive!Halsin, 69, oral both recieving, instructions, analingus, tossing the salad, eating cake, tonguing the chocolate starfish, you get the hint, he gets his ass ate right, it's about damn time.

3.8k words

Not my gif, but you're welcome for sharing Happy munching! 😏🍑🥴

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Halsin's mouth and tongue expertly lavish your sex; sucking, licking and nibbling. It drives you beyond distraction.

You're trying to concentrate on pleasing him, using your own talents on his thick, lengthy cock. You suckle at his tip, twisting your wrist on his shaft, your other hand massaging his testicles.

He lays beneath you feasting open-mouthed and greedy. He laves his tongue up and down the length of you, knowing exactly how to use his large hands to bring you to ruin already.

You drool down on his cock in absent-minded delirium, gasping and panting.

He takes a breath and kisses the inside of your thighs, still using his glorious hand on you, then flicks his tongue against your taint. Your whole body twitches and you whine out a garbled moan.

"Mm, cum for me, my heart. I need your spent down my throat." He growls, returning to his ministrations, his intent tenfold.

With a soft, sucking pop his length falls from your mouth, as you moan wantonly.

He strokes in perfect pace, mouth working in spectacular rhythm. The pressure inside your head ready to burst, the coil tightening in your gut ready to spring.

Your whole body tenses, every nerve-ending on fire. Your moans of pleasure getting increasingly louder and breathless. Halsin ushers you towards the precipice and you tumble willingly into it's nothingness.

All thoughts leave your head, as your orgasm washes over you, radiating from your core; from Halsin's mouth.

He hungrily revels in the banquet of your release, drinking you down, never ceasing.

Your hips stutter and jerk against his mouth, as ragged breaths heave from your lungs. Sweat beading from your forehead and forming on your top lip.

He swallows every drop of you, with a few long swirls of his gifted tongue.

You collapse on top of him, leaning against the muscle of his thick thigh, your hot breath tickling his sac.

He pats you twice on the ass and chuckles deep from his chest, "Ahh, my heart. You came so hard for me, thank you." You hear the smile in his praise and thanks.

"That wasn't fair." You protest, rolling unceremoniously to land in a heap on the blankets below you.

He chuckles, sitting up, "Whatever do you mean?"

Eyes still unable to focus, you struggle to look up at him, bathed in the moonlight above you. The sounds of the forest returning to your ears instead of the sloppy, slurping noises of oral sex.

"You always make me cum first." You point out, still slightly winded.

His eyebrows shoot up his forehead, "And this is a bad thing?" He asks grinning, wiping a hand across his smeared chin. You purse your lips and irk a brow at him.

"Well, I can't complain when I'm in the moment.. but yes. Don't you want to be just a little bit selfish, sometimes?" You inquire, shrugging.

"Nope." He answers, definitively, clasping his hands together and bending a leg at the knee. He was still hard.

You run your tongue against your teeth, smirking in the face of his goading.

"In 350 years, you've never once just wanted to fuck for your pleasure alone?" You narrow your eyes playfully at him.

"I find pleasure in pleasing others. I cannot help how I am, nor do I intend to change." He states, curling himself around to be closer to you, "Does it bother you, love?"

"Not really. It's just.." you pause, measuring what you actually mean, "you've taken care of people for so long, always put them first and yourself second, or even third. Maybe for once, I want you to be put first." You implore, eyes insisting.

"I have no issues coming in second place, my heart." He says with a devilish moan, capturing your mouth in a consuming kiss.

He tries to move on top of you but you halt him, and push him back onto the grass.

"I wasn't finished," you smirk, a forceful hand pushing on his hairy, muscle-bound chest, "I couldn't even get a good rhythm going!" You exclaim with a faux pout, as you hook your leg over to straddle his impressive form.

He chuckles in reply, "I can't apologise for something I'm not ashamed of." He glides his calloused hands up the backs of your thighs and around the curve of your behind.

You smile back, "Well, I'm not one to leave a mission unfinished, so.." you press a kiss to his sternum, "just lie back and look at the stars, you'll be there soon." You promise with a salacious grin.

Halsin irks a brow and licks his bottom lip, "I have no doubt, my heart."

"I mean it," you sit up straighter, using his enormous pecks for leverage, "This is for you to lie back and indulge a little. A promise to take pleasure for yourself. Are you listening?" You insist, a slight jutt of your chin.

Another chuckle responds, a warm crinkle around his green hazel eyes, "Yes, heart. I'm listening, I promise."

"I'll hold you to your word, Halsin Silverbough." You purr, leaning down to kiss him again. A long, languid kiss of wet tongues and gasping moans. You taste yourself on his tongue and swear you can almost taste the warmth of honey on his lips.

Taking your time, you drag your mouth and tongue down his impossibly beautiful body, as he cranes his neck to watch you descend.

You had beheld perfection in humanoid form before, but Halsin truly outclassed them all. His massive chest, muscular arms, thick thighs and tight butt; they could make a sinner convert to a life of piety.

"You truly are the most beautiful man I've ever seen." You decide to tell him, keeping searing eye contact, trailing your wet tongue down the ridged plain of his torso.

He loves to deal out sweet, cherishing praise; you want him to experience the same.

"I doubt that but I appreciate your encouragement." He bats away your compliment with a shy shake of his head, as you shower his belly in long, languid kisses.

"I'm serious. You are sincerely spectacular. Your body, your face, your mind. The entirety of you is beyond anything I've ever witnessed."

His cock flexes against his lower belly, a line of precum beading between. You take the head in your hand and start to stroke him slowly.

"Th-thank you, my heart." He stutters, with a smile, his hands running the length of your arms.

"Your kindness, selflessness. Your wisdom and bravery. And these pretty little divets that lead so sweetly down." You croon, between kisses and suckles.

You lap your tongue along the bottom of his tip, wrapping your lips to encompass the girth of his long, thick erection. Halsin groans and pushes his hips up, rolling his head back with a throaty gasp.

Rolling your wrist over the head, using your mouth in tandem, you taste his desire for you. You release him with a satisfying pop, staring up at him over his heaving and hollowing chest.

"Gods, you taste so good." The salt of his skin is intoxicating, as you move to glide your mouth to the creases of his inner thighs.

"Mm, thank you, my heart. You feel extraordinary." He keens through a strained throat.

You flatten your tongue along the curve of his balls, first one side, then the other. Then gently sucking one at a time into your mouth, massaging them with your tongue.

Halsin groans as he bends his knees and opens his legs to allow better access.

"I'm going to take such good care of you, Halsin." Your hot breath teases his sensitive skin.

Laying on the layered blankets on the forest clearing floor; you lap at his testicles, suckling at them, flicking your tongue front to back. Every now and again, surfacing to slather his cock head with your eager tongue, your hand continuing a constant, teasing pace.

Halsin moans between tense lips, as he raises his hips, desperate for more friction.

A thought flashes across your mind, something you're pretty sure that he would be interested in trying with you.

"Love? Tell me if you want me to stop." You offer, before dipping your tongue underneath his sac, to push against his taint. Inviting, but not threatening, to go lower.

Halsin groans in agreement, "Mm, never.. never. Keep going. Yes." Pushing off his feet to grant a better angle.

You bite back a devious smirk, and tilt your head to suckle his perineum. Rearranging your non-dominant hand, you grasp at the meat of his buttcheeks.

Halsin makes a straining, encouraging noise from the back of his throat. Bolstered, you dip your tongue lower, between the tight crease of his cheeks. You press your tongue between the folds, flicking it firmly.

"Oh, Silvanus protect me." He sighs out quickly.

The precum on his head is gathering thick and fast, as you continue to stroke his huge cock.

"Is this something that you like, sweet thing?" You ask from between his tense thighs.

"It is, my heart. I don-don't like to ask," he falters as you dip your tongue once more, "Not everyone partakes in such activities."

"Well, aren't you a lucky boy?" You smirk with a playful tone, rolling your tongue the word.

"Every day since I met you." He chuckles, then hisses through his teeth, at the intensity of his lust.

"What do you want, love? Mouth, and fingers inside?" You check before proceeding.

"Yes.. yes.." he whispers breathlessly, fists grasping at the blankets beneath him.

"Say it. Own your needs." You order, your fingers lazily flicking the crease of his cheeks.

"T-Tongue. Tongue and fingers. Your mouth. Your hands.. please." He grumbles deeply, asking so nicely.

"Then I need you on all fours, sweet thing. I want to devour you." You purr his words back to him, teeth against his thigh. His eyes burn bright with excitement and desire, you bite your bottom lip with a scandalous grin. He responds with an equally devious smirk and huffing himself over with a ravenous growl, he obliges faithfully.

You kneel backwards to reach towards the small picnic you'd brought yourselves, and retrieved his jar of lubricant. He hurriedly gathers the blanket toward him, to lean into the grass instead. Watching him get into position; he buries his face into his forearms and parts his legs, tilting his ass into the air.

You drink in the sight before you; the Ex-Archdruid of the Emerald Grove, splayed on all fours in front of you.

Apparently, the Elvish predilection of hairlessness extended to his asshole, if nowhere else.

"Halsin." A wide, feral grin spreads across your face, "you look so damned good like this, arse in the air for me." You curl your lip through the words, catching them through a feral snarl. Halsin hums low appreciatively at your filthy words.

"Can I spank you, love?" You clarify, praying for him to agree.

"Not hard but yes." He answers from the grass.

You rub a cheek several times, then give a nice, satisfying slap and repeat twice more. Each time he twitches at the contact, groaning out; you moan with him, each time a little more exaggerated.

Reaching between his legs for his large, hanging erection, you find the tip wet with precum. Halsin's body jerks and he lets out another long, hot moan into the ground.

You try to resist delving in deep already, only having enough strength to veer to the other ample cheek at the last second.

"Do you like baring yourself to me in this way, love? I can't wait to sink myself into your waiting hole." You keen, running your hands up the backs of his thigh, dangerously close to the valley of his yearning arsehole.

"Heart." Halsin growls a warning loudly and rounds his spine, shuddering. His body starts to glow and you back off before his nature takes over.

"It's alright, Halsin. Breathe, love." You instruct him gently, "breathe.."

He does as instructed, with apparent great difficulty. But despite his best efforts, he shifts to his bear form, leaves erupting outwards from impacting magic. Now looking at the behind of an enormous brown bear, you stifle a flattered, if not a little guilty, giggle.

"It's alright, love. I should've known. I'm sorry." You soothe, smoothing his rugged fur and moving to stand.

You walk to the side of him, running a hand softly and comfortingly along his flank. His big, sad eyes turn to look at you. He rumbles out a sad low grumble, and your chest inverts.

"Ohh, my beloved. It's alright. It can't be helped. You know I take it as a compliment." You shrug and smile warmly, stroking the softer fur of his face and shucking behind his ear. He hoots with a toothy smile and shudders back to his original form.

"I'm sorry.. I'm sorry. It's why I don't.. I lose control. I'm sorry, I'm sorry.." he repeats over and over again, pushing off his hands.

"Hey. You don't apologise for something you're not ashamed of." You remind him, catching his face gently. He rewards you with a chuckle.

"My mistake." He jokingly chides himself, pushing breath through tight lips.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" You venture once more, kneeling back to join him at his original size, smoothing along the soft curve of his back, drawing soothing circles on his shoulder blade.

"I know it isn't your usual position - even though you look so exquisitely good in it." You add, pressing a kiss to his bicep.

"I made a promise. A promise to indulge my own pleasures," he states with conviction, "something I have not done for a very long time," He swallows, his soft earthen eyes boring into yours, "and there is no one I trust more than you, in which to do so."

You tilt you head to the side and regard this creature of undiluted perfection before you, unable to quell the smile on your face, "I adore you," You reach up to kiss him, slow and soft, "Thank you for trusting me."

"Thank you, my heart. You have given an old Druid more happiness these last weeks than I've had in a long time." He curls his lips in, a melancholic yet wistful expression on his face.

"You are heavenly, you know that?" You inform him, pushing up to stand. You kiss him again, cupping his scarred and tattooed face, nudging his forehead with yours; like long mated animals showing affection.

Walking to return to your spot, he surrenders himself back between his massive forearms. You reach toward the jar of lubricant and unscrew the lid, the gentle scent of chamomile in the air.

Kneeling back down, you prepare a healthy dose of lube on your first two fingers. Gently, you begin to stroke the cleft of his arse, slowly drawing wide circles around his arsehole.

He grinds his jaw together and his eyes flutter closed. He trembles a breath through his nose, stretching his neck from side to side.

"Say, 'Emerald' if you need to stop." You establish, softly applying more pressure with the two digits in smaller circles against his rim, "What do you say to stop?"

"Emerald." He responds dutifully, bowing his head and scrunching his face.

"Good lad." You reward him, with a surprising tap on his ass cheek. He rumbles a chuckle.

Settling yourself comfortably, you announce, "I'm going to eat your ass now." just before launching into the valley of Halsin's awaiting hole.

Forming plenty of salvia, you dive in to assault him with your tongue. Using your hands to spread his cheeks wider, you begin by licking the length from his taint up, then flicking your tongue against his entrance.

Halsin hollers out below you in abject agreement, "Yes, my heart. Yes. Thank you. Ahh !"

You take no time in burying your face between his ass cheeks; slurping and licking, while fondling his balls. Bracing yourself against the strength of his legs, you tongue over the sweet, sensitive rim.

The taste of his home remedy lube was helpfully very pleasant, as you feast on his exposed ass. You moan and vocalise, as you dine on his most intimate and hidden part. Poking your tongue just passed his tight entrance, fluttering it around the rim and massaging your hands across the meat of his ample behind.

Shaking and nodding your head, prodding your tongue further inside his taut hole and licking all around. You move back and spit against his clenched skin, lube-thickened rivulets of saliva coat his sac and drip onto the floor, as you slap his ass another twice.

He exclaims, nearly falling from his forearms.

"Gods, my sweet. Yes-yes. I feel your spit dripping down me. You feel incredible. Do not stop. Please." He begs, his voice already hoarse.

You make a noise in your throat that informs him, you aren't even started.

Settling lower in your position, you take your bracing hand and pause to daub your peace fingers with plentiful more lube and smear it where his muscled back curves to meet his succulent ass. Then take that hand to gently pull down on his testicles, squeezing them within your palm, massaging the weight of them.

Continuing your ministrations with your tongue, you collect the awaiting lube, adding the sensation of your fingers of your dominant hand slowly. Gently cycling your fingers around the curve of his coccyx, you palpate his soaked, engorged asshole.

His entrance flutters against your tongue, as his moans get increasingly more gruff and desperate.

"More. My heart. More. Inside. Please." He strains, breaths hissing through his bared teeth.

Moving your mouth to kiss the crease to his leg, you stroke your fingers down to align with his prepared entrance. Teasing slowly, you test him with your middle finger, dipping in and out and watching for his reaction.

A muffled high cry expells from him, as he twitches, "Ahh!"

"Breathe out for me, beloved." You coach, pausing your hand cupping his balls.

He obliges, taking in a deep inhale and slowly exhaling. Your middle finger slides in with a small amount of resistance.

Halsin gasps, and his head shoots up from between his arms, "Oh! Silvanus bless me. More. More." he pleads, growling.

Taking your other hand from his testicles, you add more lube for comfort, then add the second finger. Both slide in with pliant ease; Halsin's lubricated warmth surrounding your digits to the second knuckle.

Halsin makes a crackling gasp, "Gods !"

"You're doing so well, love." You adorn him, delicately sliding your fingers in to the hilt.

You reach between his legs to tease his shaft with light, squeezing touches.

Halsin whines out a shudder, "Mm-argh. I want to fuck you. I want to fuck you. Please. Let me. I'll-ngh." He rambles, slamming a fist to the ground.

"This isn't about me, this is for you. Or trust me, I'd be riding you already. Look between your legs at me, you'll see how much I'm enjoying this." You moan, he does so and joins in with a wanting groan.

Your sex was so swollen and engorged with arousal, you were afraid to brush yourself against the grass for fear you'd succumb to rutting in the dirt.

"Seeing you like this as I fuck your ass with my fingers. It's so fucking hot, Halsin." You start to thrust your fingers inside his asshole, curling down to hit his special spot.

He trembles out a call to the sky in Elvish, seemingly unable to speak Common.

"I'm going to take care of you, protect you, adore you and shower you in pleasure." You softly squeeze his sac again, "I need you to cum for me, Halsin. I want you to cum."

You reach around his hips and firmly grasp his massive cock; precum leaks in an extortionate amount from the slit. Your sex painfully twinges from how much this has been driving him insane.

Taking no time and giving no mercy; you stroke his cock hard and fast, simultaneously stuffing your fingers deep in his snug asshole.

His entire body roils, his muscles bunch and he cries out into the dirt. His giant hands carving monstrous rivets in the earth beneath him.

His sphincter clenches down on your plunging fingers, his hips sputtering. You can feel the notch of his prostate underneath your fingerpads, the thick pulsing veins of his enormous cock in your hand.

He was on the verge.

"I'm going to count you down, sweet thing.. and you're going to cum for me. You're going to scream nice and loud, and cum so hard you can't walk. Understand, love?" You urge, with a commanding tone.

Halsin barely acknowledges, save for affirmative grunts and pants, through a delirious grin.

"Five.."

His hole quivers around your pounding digits.

"Four.."

His gargantuan length pulses in your hand.

"Three.."

His back arches and his arse pushes higher in the air.

"Two.."

There's not a sound but the debauched sound of your hammering his abused hole and pumping his humongous cock. His ragged breaths and choked moans echo through the forest, as he patiently abides until he's told to cum.

You purse your lips around a pleased smile. Holding him on the very knife edge of his orgasm. He whimpers and growls from the back of his throat, his body and soul ready to explode on your order.

Damn. Even like this, he still brought you pleasure.

"One."

It all happens at once, but almost in slow motion.

Halsin roars in jubilant euphoria, straining and tearing his throat, pouring out semi-sensical gratitudes, "YES! YES! Ngh. All for you. All for you, my heart. Allforyou. Yes-yes-yes !"

His hole clenches and suckers onto your talented fingers, as you drive them inside his pulsating walls. Hot, white ropes of seed spatter onto the lush greenery below him, with a force backed by nature itself.

His hips jerk and sputter as he drains himself on the floor, his hole flutters around your digits and his body turns gelatinous.

"All for you.. all for you.." he mumbles, collapsing aside to the ground, your fingers slipping out of his supplicant hole with ease, "thankyou.. thankyou." He choruses, barely able to separate the words.

Thoroughly pleased with yourself at the current state of the proud Druid Elf laying blissed before you, you press a kiss to his thigh and pat it twice with the heel of your hand.

"Well done, my heart. You came so hard for me, thank you." You callback to his words earlier in the evening.

His chuckles, a little higher in his register than usual. "Clever little thing."

You shuffle to the pack nestling in the tree roots and find dampened tissues to clean your lubed fingers, and turn back to Halsin; who is now laying splayed on his back, staring at the stars.

You smile at him, tilting your head; you truly do adore this sweet, large Elf.

You don't pull that out for just anyone.

You needed to be careful though, or this would end in disaster.

He was explicit in what his expectations were in this arrangement and you needed to temper your growing feelings.

Taking a steadying breath, you lean forward to wipe his softening member clean of excess, then throw the tissues crumpled together back near the pack.

"You were right, my love." He began, a drowsy, satisfied tone in his voice, "I am with the stars." He grins broadly, limbs stretched wide.

You snort a laugh and wind your way towards him, along his back to spoon him.

"See, isn't it fun to be a little selfish sometimes?" You remarked, playing idly with the small curls of hair by his ears.

Halsin labourously tilts his head to you and smiles, "If it feels like that, I should have done so a long time ago."

•°•°•

Phew ! Ready for more? I've got lots more to share 😏😅

[justdontaskme]

A Promise to Keep (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

A/N: Hello! I got a request and a sudden spurt of inspiration. If seems a little all over the place, I apologize, I wrote it quickly in one sitting and feel like it might be the best it'll get. Please let me know what you think or anything else you want to see.

After your morning training session, all you really wanted to do was to head home and cuddle with Nala until your second session later today. So, you bid your teammates farewell with a promise to see them later. 

Preseason had been going well, but it was quite obvious the number of gaps missing as many of your players were still out representing at the World Cup. Speaking of missing players, your phone started ringing just as you entered your apartment. You placed your bag down, scooping up Nala as you made your way over to the couch. 

“Hola, mi amor,” Alexia greeted you over the phone, a tired but happy smile on her face at finally seeing your face today. 

“Hi, Ale. Say hi to mama, Nala,” you said, grabbing one of Nala’s little paws and waving it at the camera. You listened as Ale talked to Nala all about what she had done today and how much she missed her. 

Eventually, Nala got bored, and you placed her back on the floor to roam the apartment. You turned sideways, using the arm of the couch as a backrest, pulling your feet up to stretch across the seats. 

“Are you okay, Ale?”

“I wish you were here,” she mumbled, and even though you knew it wasn’t meant with any malice, you couldn’t help but detect that tone of bitterness in her voice, just hitching at the very end. 

You sighed deeply, not really wanting to replay a fight you two have been enduring for the last few weeks now. 

“I miss you,” you said instead, trying not to feed into another inevitable fight. “Enjoy this while you can, you’ll be home soon.”

“I’m here, and you’re there. How am I supposed to enjoy this when you are sitting back home when you could have been here.”

“Ale,” you started, your voice soft and gentle, trying to soothe her before she worked herself into a frenzy. “This is your moment, don’t worry about me.”

“But this is supposed to be our moment,” she said, her voice raising slightly. “You and me. It was supposed to be us. Now, I’m here by myself.”

“You’re not alone, Ale,” you reminded her, asking her to lean on her teammates for strength in this monumental moment. 

“It’s not the same, and you know it. We made a promise.”

You turned the phone away from yourself for a second, allowing your face to fall forward into your knees. She was right. The two of you had made a promise to each other that you would do whatever it takes to be on the grandest stage of the World Cup together. 

“I know, but you and I both know why I’m here. I’ve made peace with this situation. I hate it, but I wouldn’t have done anything different.”

“Not even to be with me?” Alexia knew she was selfish and wrong for asking that, but she had been struggling to really find her footing this tournament, and to have you thousands of miles away wasn’t helping. Her feelings were taking over. She felt like she was floundering, one second away from drowning every step of the way. 

“Ale, as much as I’d love to be there with you, I can’t put myself in that situation again. Not unless things change,” you said.

While you loved and enjoyed your time on the national team, there was so much going on behind the scenes that many people didn’t know about. Unfortunately, it had taken a huge mental toll on you, a toll you were still paying to this day and maybe for the rest of your life. 

“You always said you and I could get through everything together. Why is this any different? Why can’t we get through this together?” Her voice was strained and you knew she was not going to back down on this tonight. 

“Alexia, let’s not go down this road tonight. You have a big game tomorrow. Let’s not do this right now.”

“I’m suffocating. I feel like I can’t even take a step without everyone criticizing my form and my right to be here. And now I’m here telling you that I need you, and you just push it aside,” she yelled, causing you to almost drop your phone. 

“Hold on, Alexia. That’s not what I said.”

“But it’s what you meant.”

“Don’t go putting words in my mouth. You know I hate when people do that,” you warned her, feeling yourself slowly losing your temper as well. 

“And I hate when people go back on their word, yet you did and I let you.”

That stopped you for a moment. Everything Alexia has been saying all made sense. But you couldn’t just take a whole month off especially with preseason starting just to follow her halfway around the world. 

It didn’t stop you from feeling guilty for not being there when she needed you. Since she had gone, the time difference had really made its mark on your relationship, speaking much less often than normal. Calls were either less frequent or shorter in comparison to the ones just before the group stages started. 

You hated yourself for not noticing how much Alexia was apparently struggling throughout this month apart. Each call you remember trying to comfort and reassure her you were her biggest fan, but she didn’t just need some to believe in her, she needed your full support in fighting the demons in her heads that have been there since she went down before the Euros.

“Ale,” you tried to form a coherent sentence. One that was genuinely what she needed to hear without feeling forced. 

“No, you know you were right. I have a game tomorrow. I should get some rest.”

Before you could say anything else, she hung up on you. You tossed your phone to the other side of the couch, sitting in silence as the pent up anger from this and previous fights coupled with an insurmountable amount of guilt bubbled inside of you. 

****

From your seat next to Patri, your hands curled into fists when you saw Alexia being subbed off, knowing that she wasn’t happy with the decision, and even worse, she’ll be upset with the way she had played with the limited minutes she had. 

You started to worry and feel a twinge of guilt, wondering if your fight last night had anything to do with her performance today. You quickly shook your head, tossing the idea out of your head and reminding yourself that Alexia was a professional and she wouldn’t let something like that mess with her game. She must just have had an off day.

Things from the night before were still unresolved, but you hoped that it would all work itself out when you spoke to her later.  

It was a bittersweet win. You were in tears seeing the absolute happiness on the players’ faces, especially Alexia’s, yet when you turned to Patri and Mapi, you knew they already understood the feelings you were fighting.

Mapi came over and draped an arm over your shoulders, nodding her head without saying anything. There were only a few who would truly understand what you were feeling as you watched the Spanish national team reach heights that were before unachievable. And they managed to do it all without you and your fellow teammates. 

You waited by the phone all night, but never got anything from your girlfriend. You had tried calling once, but it had gone straight to voicemail, and you figured that it meant that she wasn’t ready to hear from you yet. 

Then, you reached out to Ona, who assured you that Alexia was okay and that she would keep an eye on her for you. You then asked her to pass on your congratulations and her love, which she easily agreed to. Thanking the younger girl, you went about making the necessary arrangements for your trip. 

****

As you stepped into the stadium, you were in awe of the atmosphere. The crowds of people here for this game, cheering along and choosing sides, even though their own nations have already gone home. It was a full stadium of people here to love and champion the game everyone loved. A wave of sadness swept through you as you imagined what could have been. 

You were supposed to be experiencing this with all your friends, the grass beneath your feet, not the concrete of the seating area. You should have been out there decked out in your Spanish uniform, your name and number proudly on your back, instead of being in the stands with your girlfriend’s name and number on. 

You let yourself wallow for a minute more before quickly reminding yourself why you were really here. While you continue to wish things were different, you didn’t regret your choices, but now you were to live with the consequences of those choices. 

Instead of dwelling, you stood on your feet, cheering along with the rest of the Spanish fans as both teams made their way out for warmups. You cheered loudly anytime Alexia touched the ball, but with all the people in the stadium, you doubted she could hear you.

Once the Spanish team finished warming up and started heading into the locker rooms, you did your best to catch Alexia’s eyes without making a big show. As far as you knew, Alexia didn’t even know you were here. 

Eventually you managed to make eye contact with Ona who sent you a bright smile before rushing over to Alexia and pointing you out in the crowd. Despite the countdown until kickoff and the protests of a certain coach, Alexia ran straight to you, meeting you at the edge of the stands.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, reaching one hand up to cup your face while the other went around your waist, pulling your bodies as close as the barrier between you two allowed. 

In the moment, it didn’t matter if there was a small wedge driven between the two of you since the start of this tournament, Alexia was beyond happy to finally have you back in her arms. She wasn’t going to waste a second of it. 

“I made a promise, we’d be here together,” you said, resting your forehead against hers, this closeness drowning out everything around you. “I came to fulfill that promise to you. Even if it’s a little different than the way we planned.”

“I’m sorry,” Alexia said, ready to jump into her rehearsed spiel of how she shouldn’t have reacted the way she did the other night. 

But before she could say anything, you quickly interrupted her with an apology of your own. “No, mi corazón, I’m sorry. You were right, we made a promise and I went back on it.”

“No, I know why you and the others did what you did, but that doesn’t mean I don’t support you. I just really wished I could have shared all of this with you by my side.”

“I know, bebé, I know. But we can’t change the past.”

“I’m so happy you’re here,” Alexia admitted, sniffling slightly. You reached up to wipe the pooling tear in her eye. 

“Me too. I promise we can talk about this more later. For now, go out there and make me proud,” you told her, not caring about the crowd as you leant forward and kissed her for the first time in over a month. “Te amo.”

The blinding smile on your girlfriend’s face and the returned ‘I love you’ was worth the month apart. Alexia snuck one more quick kiss to your lips before rushing off to the locker room before she was benched for the entire game. 

You sat back in your seat as you awaited the players' walk out. 

“My sister is such a sucker for you,” Alba said, knocking her shoulder against yours from her seat beside you. 

You burst out laughing, “Never hurts to have her wrapped around my finger,” you shrugged.

“Yet you were the one to skip practice in order to book a last minute flight to Australia just so you could apologize in person.”

“It’s called supporting your girlfriend,” you countered, eyes on the tunnel as the players were set to come out any second. 

Alba rolled her eyes goodnaturedly, joining you as you both sported your Alexia jerseys, loudly cheering for the superstar as everyone came out. You blew her a kiss and wished her the best of luck. 

This wasn’t how you two had thought a World Cup together would be like, but even with all the obstacles, you had finally made it to a final together. And really, that’s all that mattered because at the end of the day, you two would always have each other. 

[chrisevansonly]

𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: charles leclerc x female reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: life is too heavy to carry, thankfully your boyfriend will carry it with you

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: talks of mental health and suicidal thoughts, mentions of depression, heavy topics so please read at your own discretion

𝐚/𝐧: i’ll be honest this is self indulgent and i know i said i wasn’t writing but idk i feel so low and thought writing about how im feeling might help? ive struggled with mental illness my whole life so i find writing it out in a way i can enjoy helps…i hope it helps others that are in need of it too<3

Life is painful, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, it’s dark and gloomy, heavy and hard to carry, life is painful. Okay well maybe not for everyone but for you it was, and it was draining, exhausting really trying to survive each day instead of living like everyone else. Truth be told you’d struggled with mental illness for as long as you can remember. In high school the suicidal thoughts came into play and you had fallen into a place no one deserved to fall.

You’d hear people tell you to smile, cheer up, get outside and take in the fresh air, but they don’t understand. They don’t get the internal pain one feels when they deal with depression and anxiety, unless you live it: you don’t get it.

So yes, life was painful but there was an ounce of sunshine in your life and it came in the form of Charles, your boyfriend of exactly three years. The man who broke through the storm to bring you blue skies and calm waters, the man who held you tightly as you cried for a break, aching for a moment of peace within yourself. Charles was a gift, you were sure of it: he was too.

“my love…?”

His voice was soft, delicate as it filtered through the dark bedroom, eyes filled with concern as he looked at you huddled under the blankets, almost willing them to swallow you whole

“hmm?”

It might not have been a word but Charles would take it

“can I get you anything? do you need something?”

The room fell silent again except for the sound of covers shifting, your head peaking over the duvet

“y-you please”

Hearing your voice break was enough for Charles to promptly move from his place in the doorway, lifting up the covers on his side of the bed before settling down and pulling you into his side, letting you virtually melt against him

“okay, okay i’m here, it’s okay amour..”

“it-it hurts”

“i know baby, i know it does…but it will only hurt for a little, i promise you.”

You wanted to believe him, you really did, but how many years would you have to suffer before it truly felt like you would never know how to feel okay.

“it’s hard to be here”

Now this caught Charles attention right away, having known your past with depression and even suicidal thoughts, he felt his blood run cold at the thought of you being anywhere than right here with him

“listen to me baby, i know it hurts, i know it’s hard, but i promise you i will help you find your sunshine, i will help you find your happiness”

He paused shifting to rest a hand on your cheek, his thumb swiping at a stray tear on your cheek

“i love you with everything in me, and i will do whatever i can to help you through this, if you need me to carry more of the weight, let me, if you need a shoulder to lean on more than usual, do it. you are my entire world baby, i won’t ever leave you out in the dark to take this on all on your own..”

Letting out a soft sniffle you looked up at him, always appreciating just how much love he held for you in his eyes alone

“why, i-i’m so sad a-all the time”

“because i love you. it doesn’t matter if your angry, happy, sad it’s part of you, i love all of you no matter what, and i am not going anywhere”

Charles leaned forward, pressing his lips to your forehead letting you have a minute to just digest everything he was saying

“pinky promise?” you asked softly, holding your pinky finger out which brought a soft smile to his face

“pinky promise baby, always.”

Nothing else needed to be said as you curled yourself further into his side, his arms only tightening on you, as if to keep you from slipping away from him. Charles knew words only helped so much, but he was willing to do whatever it took to bring you blue skies back. Even if it took days or weeks, even months, Charles was going to be right beside you, every step of the way.

Life might be painful, but you never had to go through it alone again.

[ghostgirl-22]

omg! omg! omg! do you have ideas on older jealous art? like what if he saw patrick on the date with helen at the hotel instead? or maybe saw patrick on a date with another man (grosu? 👀) and got really upset but didn’t understand why!

Oh yes, oh yes….<3

I think Art goes in the sauna, yes that sauna. But it’s before they ever meet up the night before they play the final.

CW: NSFWish, 18+

Summary: in which Art has a Karen moment because how dare you try and take his man—that he really doesn’t want (he promises). And no he doesn’t know what he’s weirdly sexually confused about. But it’s not that.

-/-/-/-

Art’s winning again. He’s mostly playing kids who are just so happy to be there or sad older guys who are so jaded and defeated about the idea of playing him that they’ve beaten themselves before Art even has to do anything. But still he is winning and it does feel good.

He’s trying to put the idea of Patrick out of his mind. Tashi tells him every single day, “He’s never going to make it to the final. He’s gonna choke. That’s his thing.” But Art notices every round he wins Patrick wins too.

His body is sore and he always feels better in the heat but being who he is in the tennis world he usually waits till really late at night to relax in the sauna. He’s sure no one else is going to be there so he’ll get a moment of peace and quiet without any of the younger players gawking over him or asking him career questions. But as soon as he pushes open the door he realizes he’s not alone at all. Patrick’s sitting on the bench and he’s not alone. He’s got some guy kneeling between his legs. The guy quickly gets to his feet when he hears the door and Art recognizes him vaguely from the draw. Victor Grasi or Grossi. Something.

The guy wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and Patrick—very slowly— pulls the towel over himself, offering Art a smirk.

Art can feel his skin heating up. He wants to turn and run but he can’t move. His stomach is suddenly swooping around like he’s riding a rollercoaster. He didn’t know Patrick did stuff like that… with boys.

“What’s up Donaldson?” Patrick says brightly, like Art didn’t just catch him with some stupid pretty boy between his legs. “I’ve been meaning to come see you.”

Art glares at him still struggling to form words. He hasn’t seen Patrick this close in so many, many years. He still smiles with his eyes but they crinkle now with age and around the edges of that smile he looks like he might be tired(sad?). And not just from lack of sleep. His hair’s shorter, skin darker the way it always was in the summertime. It makes all his freckles that much more visible. Art hates to admit the facial hair looks kinda good on him.

His body looks good too… Art’s eyes drift downward over where the towel is covering his very hard dick.

”I am so sorry Mr. Donaldson I’m a big fan. I think you are so talented. Not many Americans can win on clay,” Whatever his name is saying with a thick accent Art can’t place. It pulls Art out of whatever daze he was in. God was he just staring? Why was he fucking staring? He looks at Patrick’s face again and he’s looking at Art, amused. Smug.

Art’s annoyed all over again.

“And your game against Padilla.” The kid is still talking. “That was so good. I rewatched it twice. You’re so—“

“Thanks,” Art interrupts, his tone clipped. He’s not sure why he’s suddenly irritated with his presence. This dumb kid, probably 24 or 25, pink cheeks, perfect body just on his knees for…

“Didn’t he beat you yesterday?” Art asks, meanly, with a smirk.

His pretty little face goes stormy and Art feels a cruel internal joy when he sees it.

He mutters something in another language but Art’s certain it’s a swear word.

“I just—it was a bad day. I’m ranked much higher than him.” The kid tries to recover but he’s clearly embarrassed.

“Sure, exactly. It was just a bad day, Grosu,” Patrick chimes in, smiling as he rubs himself idly. “Lemme make you feel better.”

“You’re no good for me, Zweig.” The kid mutters.

“That’s not what you said last night,” Patrick smirks up at him.

Art’s jaw sets with irritation. Especially when Patrick’s grabbing at the kid’s waist and pulling him closer. Art’s not trying to look but for whatever reason his eyes trail back down. Probably because Patrick is just so insistently hard. And he’s touching it, just casually touching it.

The weirdest part is the way Art can feel his own balls tightening. It makes no fucking sense. He can’t possibly be getting hard. He’s one fucking step away from talking to his doctor about Viagra because he can’t get it up for someone as fucking beautiful as his wife and right now on a random night in the middle of the sauna is when he’s just ready to go. Brilliant. It’s like the universe just enjoys finding new ways to fuck with him.

The kid has forgotten about him, mesmerized by Patrick. Letting Patrick just touch him, all over. Art feels like his blood is boiling hotter than the room. He hurries outside without another word before the way his cock is swelling becomes visible to them. Not that they fucking care.

He’s barely made it into the locker room toilet stall when he’s leaning against the door jerking himself stupid. The whole thing is so fucked because in his head he’s imagining Patrick’s hands all over him. Touching him. Fucking him. Not that stupid pretty boy loser. Fucking loser. Fucking loser. Fucking loser. His mind chants over and over, not sure if it’s about the kid or Patrick or himself. All the while his hand is racing over his dick, so desperate until he’s coming hard, spraying his load all over his hand and the toilet seat. “Oh fuck,” he gasps.

Because what the fuck is he doing? He’s too old for this shit. Mind games and lust and weird teenaged flirting. He needs to go home to his wife and kid. He’s a grown up. He has responsibilities. Patrick’s still a fucking child. Just doing whatever he wants. Just fucking whoever he wants. Like Tashi. It’s been years and it still stings. And now some stupid fucking boy sucking his dick when anyone could just walk in. It’s offensive. Art should probably complain. Tell that loser kids coach or whoever he’s working with that he needs to focus and maybe not fuck around with someone like Patrick Zweig. He cleans up quickly and hurries to go wash his hands.

He spots movement behind him in the mirror and turns to see Patrick walking from the lockers towards the shower. Naked. With only a towel on his head. God how long was he in here? Did he hear Art?

Patrick stops to smirk at him. He’s not hard anymore which means he probably fucked the kid. It’s still so fucking big even when he’s soft. Art swallows. “What do you want?” He manages.

“Nothing. You just look pretty flushed. Are you okay?” He says, grinning (like he knows what Art did). “I thought you went home.” He wraps the extra towel he’s got draped over his shoulder around his waist, covering himself and Art relaxes a bit.

“I am going home,” Art says. “Where’s the dumb kid?”

Patrick laughs, “You know he’s 27, right.”

“Well he’s still a loser,” Art shrugs. He doesn’t care. He hopes he never sees him again. (And that Patrick doesn’t either).

“God, must feel good to walk around with all that power. He got so in his head from your little comment. He wanted to go home. Didn’t even want to finish. It’s like he didn’t even remember how much fun we had last night after drinks.”

Art’s not sure how to take any of that. On one hand he’s mildly satisfied that he sent the kid into a tailspin, but still fucking irritated that he… that he what… that he got to fuck Patrick in the first place? This is so fucked. He can’t want this. He cannot want this.

“Well you’re not dressed yet.” Patrick continues, casually. “You sure you don’t want to join me and clean up in the shower?”

“I uh— uh—“ Art stammers, while he white knuckles the towel on his waist, his heart rate picking up and the distant feeling of arousal that he’d just conquered incredibly stirring again. He wants this. Fuck he wants this. “No I—“

“I’m just teasing,” Patrick shrugs, interrupting before Art can finish. An oddly melancholic expression flitting over his face. And then immediately back to being his usual carefree (careless?) self. If not a little more distant. Formal. “Good night, Donaldson, see you in the final.”

“Good night,” Art says, feeling his stomach sink just a little bit. He wishes he didn’t— but he believes it now with 100 percent certainty that Patrick is right— that they’re both going to end up there.

(Sorry anon that this took so long and also I apologize if this is what you were looking for. It’s been hectic so I didn’t have much time to get to into it— also wanted to leave a little space for canon to canon lol. Art is still so mad that he’s attracted to Patrick he needs to hurt him more 😭)

[0catiiyori0]

BAD BRANCH AU

will change the name... eventually

SO!

trolls got me REALLY good, the ppl in the fandom are so talented!!! the stories are so cool and the potential for more to be created is so strong i couldn't resist it jssjjsneje, so here's my piece of the cake.

this is an au I've been thinking of, idk what sparked it specifically, it was 4 am and i was doing the dishes bsjsj.

the general idea of it:

branch couldn't run away in time during the trollstice, he didn't want to leave his childhood home, he tried to bring everything he could but what can a little troll do exactly??

so in the struggle he was caught and was abt to get eaten by prince gristle when he convinced him not to

how? weeeell...

logic, simple as that, he argued that he can make him happy, without eating him idk what he did to prove it yet, but he did it.

he said "I can guarantee you that I can make you happy just like I did right now, so here's the deal, I stayed here so I can give you the happiness that you want but you are leaving the other trolls alone in return

besides, what's better? feeling happy for a brief time and then having to wait until you can find the trolls again, which who knows how much time that will take .

ooooor feeling it everyday all the time and not just you but your whole ppl too! so leave them alone, I can be your friend instead of feasting on me".

so ya

don't ask me how a child can think rationally like that, idk I did it cuz it's fun.

so he kind of becomes some kind of a jester/celebrity to the bergen's?

and his time in a boy band really helped him, ya he doesn't sing yet but he can take a grumpy audience!

and that really works for a few couple of years! until he arson the whole town... (won't stick to that but he will run away)

now from that point on I don't know what to do

I'm thinking that maybe he won't arson the town and stays in the castle.

maybe he stays in the wilderness and pulls a feral JD au but branch edition.

or maybe he'll find the trolls village!

idk

SO ASK ME

I'm really really struggling with the free time I have

so ya

hope you like it!!

[lunaa-runee]

Just imagine, being from a minor Inuzuma clan. Doesn't have much to offer, no one really pays much attention to you or your family.

Or so you thought.

But you do end up catching someone's eye. And not just anyone, but Ayato Kamisato.

He had heard of you and your clan before, of course. You were close friends with his younger sister, he had never gotten the opportunity to meet you.

But when finally did get to meet you, he remembers it clear as day.

Ayaka had been handling an upcoming surprise party Thoma's birthday hosted at Komore teahouse. He happened to be in the city for a meeting that ended much earlier than anticipated, and he had sent Thoma to Ritou to ensure he didn't spoil the surprise Ayaka had been working so hard on for him.

He stepped into the teahouse, greeting Taroumaru. He walked further into the tea house to the room where the surprise was to be held. But upon entering the room, his eyes were not drawn to the various decorations, presents or the large cake that was sitting on the table. But instead, they were drawn to you, who happened to be struggling to hang up a banner that had "Happy birthday Thoma" written on it. Blissfully unaware that you were no longer alone.

As he watched you, he felt an unfamiliar tightness in his chest. A yearning to get closer to you.

"Would you like some help?' Ayato asked after a minute of watching you struggle.

The sound of his voice took you by surprise, resulting in your losing balance. Closing your eyes, you braced yourself for the collision with the floor.

But it never came.

Instead, you fell into a pair of strong arms. And to your absolute horror when seeing who your savior was, your heart dropped, face turning beet red. "L-lord Kamisato!"

Ayato gave his signature smirked, causing your heart to flutter. "You should really be more careful." He set you down gently on your feet, holding your forearms for a moment to ensure your were steady on your feet. "Are you alright miss....?"

Taking a step back first, you gave him your family name, bowing at the waist to show respect. "I'm fine Lord Kamisato, I am so sorry about that."

Hearing your name sparked recognition, you were Ayaka's friend. She did mention you were helping with preparations for Thoma's party. He smiled, repeating your name. "No need to apologize, I'm just happy you're alright."

It was in this moment, Ayato decided he was going to make you his.

Pt. 2 is out now

[moonkissedvisions]

Pick a card: Messages from the Divine Feminine within you

The Divine Feminine explained

Consider:

This is a general reading. Take what resonates and leave the rest.

Tarot readings don´t replace professional advice.

English is not my first language.

To choose a pile, ask yourself: What do I need to know from the DF?

Pile one

Cards: The Devil, 3 of Pentacles, The Chariot, Page of Wands, 9 of Pentacles, 7 of Pentacles.

Power

Pile 1, the DF is asking you to take your power back, to remember how powerful you are and how YOU are the only one who has control over your choices. No one but you has control over your desires, responsibilities, and decisions. There is something that may be trapping you, draining you, or making you feel like you lost your power and have no control over your life. This could be an obsession or addiction, a strong sexual desire, overspending, codependency, unhealthy habits, negative thoughts, an internal or external narrative that you are hanging on, overindulgence, etc. It could be anything that is potentially hindering your spiritual growth and responsibilities. You have to remember now what you came here for and what truly and wholy fulfills you, instead of seeking a quick dopamine hit. You must look at your environment and see where the negative influences are, but you also must see inside yourself and meet your shadow.

You need to know that you are not the victim, that you are not helpless, that you are in fact responsible and FREE, and that you have a lot of power and control on your hands. Get out of your own way now. Accept your darkness, and then redirect your attention to your light. Make good choices by practicing mindfulness. Shadow work is particularly beneficial if you have these struggles. You can ask yourself what's holding you back or why are you running away from your path. When you check in your environment, consciously remove any energy that may be negatively affecting you. Start to be aware of the stories that you tell yourself, but also the ones that you find in your environment, in social media, in the social groups you are in, at work, school or home, within a relationship.  You can also ask yourself: Am I afraid of my creative power? Is that why I give it up or waste it in short-term pleasures? Learn how to discern passion from agression, when to apply each, and when not to.

Connections

Another message from the DF is to seek collaboration and support from others. At this time, your knowledge and experiences are especially valued and recognized when you share and distribute them with others than when you work by yourself, and you'll find better results by combining your capacities with those of others and work together as a team. Each person contributes with their skills to get greater success and more time for you to rest and practice self-care. Don't be afraid to share your work with others if it´s too much to do alone. People will be happy to help you achieve common goals. At first, your progress may seem small, but if you all apply a good organization, planification and work distribution, you will be getting there soon! If you are someone used to working alone, this is the time to try something new.  

Success

You are in your success era, achieving your goals, traveling, moving, learning a lot of new things, going to a bunch of new places. You have to keep trusting your vision, embodying your success, and holding on to the feeling of being capable of reaching your goals, every of them. Love your life, rejoice in victorious/winner energy by looking how far you've come and remembering your endless possibilities! This will have you attracting more and more. It's the time to enjoy your secure, abundant life. Delight in your comfort. See how your abundance benefits your spiritual and personal development and relish. Some of you may be obtaining a higher social status or receiving surprising news. Keep your choices intentional and aware but permit yourself to enjoy comfort, rest, and a relaxing time in nature. Invest your money in yourself, in beauty and pleasure. Allow yourself to eat the fruits of your labor.

Excitement 

You have curiosity and enthusiasm. The energy from this pile is so exciting and youthful. There can be a new opportunity to learn about your path, yourself, or something new that catches your attention. Perhaps you were just going to start a new creative project or try something again but with a different mindset and fewer inhibitions. You could explore a more optimistic attitude. There is also a possibility of a new journey or some sort of spiritual renewal happening. Whatever it is, I hope it's true for every one of you because it sounds amazing, Pile one. There are lots of confirmations that you are on the right path. If you were being restricted by limiting beliefs, or maybe a know-it-all mindset was stopping you from learning new things, this is your sign to start again and to unleash your inner child. Unleash what makes you young and that which has not yet matured in your life. 

song: aguardiente y limón by Kali Uchis. so on point lol

If it's true life is what you make it. All the seeds that I planted will grow, grow, grow, grow, grow, grow. I just want to savor the fruits of my labor.

Pile two

Cards: The Empress, Justice, Queen of Swords, The Hierophant, King of Cups, Strength.

Divine, royal spirit

The DF is giving you a lot of words of affirmation, Pile two. Your self-awareness is perfect. You have a fair, logical, rational and realistic mind that's perfectly combined with an empathetic, optimistic, intuitive, and emotionally intelligent mind. You are honest AND considerate. Your intuition is HIGH. You help people with your unmatched advice, vast knowledge, unbiased perspectives, and your clever ideas and thoughts. All of your mental abilities are on point. You have an open heart, but not a naive one at all. You know how to discern reality from illusion, and how to get the best of each. It's giving queen/king energy. You are romantizing your life INTELLIGENTLY, with meaning, reason, and intention. You value both internal and external beauty. You are your own empire, your own sacred temple, your own altar. If you are not already embodying this energy you need to start ASAP. This is such a powerful pile. You are truly embodying your Divine Feminine energy: creative, kind, intuitive, emotionally intelligent, dedicated, beautiful, loving, mindful, balanced, empowering, respectful, wholesomely feminine. You are an example of feminine integrity. If you have been shamed for your feminine power, for your sexuality, for your mystery, for your magic or any aspect of your femininity completely disregard it. Keep embracing the feminine arts. You are learning to be emotionally vulnerable when is proper, and how to express your emotions with self-respect. You understand others's emotions and you know the importance of emotional health. You support others´s in their emotional expression. At the same time, you value facts and evidence. You are an independent thinker. You are sincere. You are real. You are connected to your cycle and those of life and nature. You are connected to the invisible, you are one step forward. You may trigger some people with your truth, but you need to know that you are doing the right thing. You are speaking facts people need to hear. You are taking care of your health, your appearance, your community, you are blooming. You are a legacy, you are ROYALTY. You recognize the worth in yourself and others. If you don't feel like this, unless you chose the wrong Pile, the DF is trying to tell you that you have the potential to be all of it. Follow your feminine wisdom. There is a lot of abundance coming towards you and you deserve it all. If this is what you want, you are attracting someone who matches your energy, your divine counterpart. You are magnetic to all blessings. You are blessed.

Strength

You have the capacity to use your mind in your favor, to focus on what you desire, to give energy to what you want to grow in your life, and to be patient with yourself and what you do. Your high determination and control over your thoughts will take you far, and you'll attract what you want if you keep yourself calm and collected. You need to be aware of your thoughts, habits, and beliefs and take conscious control, but just surrender to the rest. Don't forget to be compassionate towards yourself and others. Keep reminding yourself of your inner power and capacity. Carry on having the control over your impulses and you'll attract all the solutions that you need. You are strong! 

Ritual

With The Hierophant card, your DF messages are about ritual, tradition, religion, and family. You could connect or reconnect to your traditions, start or continue practicing your rituals, and strengthen your faith. If you belong to a religion or a religious practice, it will be beneficial to attend its ceremonies, social events, and to visit temples/churches. You could also benefit from praying, giving offerings, reading sacred scriptures/books, whatever you resonate with. If you don't belong to a religion but you recently became interested in doing so, this could be a sign to do it. If you don't belong to any, and not interested in religion, this is just that rituals/ritualization of what you do is beneficial for you at this time. You could start a new ritual/tradition that will help you feel more connected to yourself and the DF. For some of you, you could reconnect to your family, a parent, someone familiar, or find a new meaning to the concept of "family". Marriages are possible too. There is someone with high morals, great wisdom, someone who answers questions or gives advice, a teacher, a family-oriented person who values tradition, a serious person with their priorities in order. Whether is you or someone in your life, this energy will be favourable for your spiritual growth. Try new things, find new patterns, reevaluate your beliefs.

song: The Girl With A Tattoo enter.lewd by Miguel

Those innocent eyes. That smile on your face. Makes it easy to trust you.

Pile three

Cards: The Devil, Page of Cups, 5 of Wands, Queen of Pentacles, 3 of Cups

Creative new start

The energy of this pile is very similar to Pile 1. Something is holding you back, but in this pile it´s more of an emotional problem. Your DF message suggests that the thing that's holding you back has a lot to do with how you emotionally respond to situations and how you deal with lower passions, temptation, dark thoughts. For some of you, it's your own emotional baggage and negative self talk that's hindering your creativity and growth. For others is a relationship. For maybe a small portion of you, it's a drinking or addiction problem rooted in emotional disorders, escapism, and avoidance. Know that choosing to let go and break free from these habits will give you a fresh start emotionally and creatively, and you are able to choose. When you do, new doors will open for you, and you'll have the possibility to fulfill your dreams and satisfy your emotional needs in more healthy and creative ways. You may also find a way to channel your darkness/shadow in creative ways that will bring more light as a result, or maybe you recently started doing that, and that is your message. In the first pile, there was some possible new spiritual journey or learning path. Here it's more about your creativity, relationships, and emotions. Express yourself, seek love and support, let things flow and unapologetically open your heart. Stop taking yourself and life very seriously. Be more silly is what your DF is saying lol. Your dreams may be getting prophetic too or you are seeing a lot of signs from the Universe. Good news from family, like a marriage, or family getting bigger.

Resolution

If you were looking for a conflict resolution, this is a confirmation that it's coming. Your DF suggests to have a healthy approach to the conflict, put your ego aside and listen to others without competing for who is in the right. There may be different opinions, conflicting thoughts/feelings or people trying to push their own agenda, even someone willing to manipulate or deceive others. A lot of egos fighting and trying to impose themselves. You just need to be empathetic and compassionate, use your intuition, and don´t judge anyone personally. Be brave. Listen and consider all different points of view and encourage the rest to do the same. Don´t be afraid to say what you think. Be aware of selfishness and apathy and don´t tolerate it. This could also be a sign that you'll have to face conflict soon, and you need to be cautious with how you handle the situation. If you handle conflict with acceptance and compassion, you will definitely gain new and favorable connections, collaboration, and material success. You may also get a lot of recognition for how you handle conflict and for your ability to relate to different people with a variety of backgrounds, knowledge, and talents. 

Prosperity 

You may be a practical person and that´s why you like to show affection and love in practical ways. I see you being a homemaker, enjoying cooking and cleaning, creating your business, baking, creating a nice environment, tending to people, and bringing pleasure into the mundane. You are a self-sufficient person with endless energy and dedication. If you don't already, you'll have extra money to share and spoil yourself and your loved ones soon. Prosperity and material success are coming for you. You have everything you need to be successful and independent. You are worthy of everything in the material world. Make the best of your material world. Your needs and those of your family are taken care of. Don´t be afraid of receiving/making money and living a comfortable life. Make the best out of your prosperity and all the opportunities that you have to be prosperous.

Unconditional support

You probably have a nice and loving group of friends, Pile 3. Friendships and social connections are so important for you at this moment, especially female ones. You are giving and receiving a lot of love and support from people. You are being invited to visit new places, hang out, attend parties and events. Say yes to all you desire without feeling guilty. Celebrate without having a big motive. Your ability to socialize is high, and you'll be receiving multiple friendly offerings. You could join a joyful creative group or receive support for your creative ideas. If you keep your creativity a secret, this may be the sign to share it with others and find other creative people who can inspire and encourage you. This is mutual and reciprocal energy. Appreciate your female friends, celebrate the friendships in your life and keep back and forth communication between you and them. Give them your time and let them give you theirs. This will strengthen your connection with your DF.  

song: Material Girl by Madonna.

Experience has made me rich. And now they´re after me.

Thank you for reading and supporting my Tarot readings. ily <3