#get a healthy work life balance I am begging you

[chuckbass-love]

Hi there, so I was scrolling through TikTok and I was watching this one video of the guy singing careless whisper while looking very depressed and I thought maybe something like the reader was leaving for a girls vacation and Chris is being a little dramatic about it and Scott records him singing into a whiskey bottle and postes it on TikTok idk I just thought it would funny

YES YES YES!! Although we're all very aware of how independent Chris can be, how he is very vocal on his need for his woman to have her own things going on. We already know he'll have his fair share of clingy moments. I had a lot of fun writing this for you. Thank you for requesting and i hope you enjoy it. I am also so terribly sorry for the long wait. I've been working my ass off to complete part 2 to a younger model. But i figured a nice short break to write this wouldn't hurt. Enjoy, lovely🥰

Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted or to be translated anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without permission. Reblogs are welcomed though.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None! Just pure fluff.

Word Count: 2,860

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @chrisevansupdates 💕

Endless Pining

It had only been two hours...and Chris was already struggling. You had been invited on a bachelorette party for your sisters upcoming wedding and what was worse is that said party was in Cabo. You informed Chris of these plans months in advance and he was very cool calm and collected about the entire thing...until you started packing the night before.

"Are you sure you have to go?" he said, his eyes puppy dog like, he could have definitely given Dodger a run for his money in that moment. Gone was the Chris you were used to, the one that said he preferred his woman to have her own things going on, not wanting her to be tied to him all the time. And now look at him. Begging you to stay like some love struck clingy teenager.

Not that you're complaining, of course. You love Chris, it's obvious in the way you very nearly stayed home just to be with him. He's the love of your life, as cliche as it sounds. Although every single heartbreak lead you to him, you still wish he was the first and only man you fell for, slept with and met. But such is life, you can't complain now when all of that mess and hurt brought you to now, to being the woman who gets to be there at the end of a long couple months filled with interviews and awards shows. You're the one he comes home to. And vice versa.

Chris makes you feel the way you've always wanted to feel. He doesn't even make you question if you're the only woman in the world for him because you already know you are. You've never had to make pros and cons lists of why you should and shouldn't be with him and lastly, you've never had to ask him to treat you right. He just does. It's refreshing.

But the same goes for you with him. You are always there for him when his schedule dies down again and he's back home for a couple weeks, you get to cuddle up on the couch, play with his hair until he falls asleep and when you both eventually go to bed, you're there to cuddle him.

He knows how lucky he is to have you and he's never shy when it comes to showing his appreciation.

You see, Chris has had his own fair share of heartbreaks and times when he's been the heartbreaker, but he was young, naive and stupid. He made mistakes just like everyone does when they are growing and learning and maturing. He's never tried to hide his disdain for his past behaviour but he's also never tried to hide how much he knows he had to be that way to get to where he is now. And look at where it all lead him, straight to you. He's forever grateful it did. He never has to worry if you're in this relationship for fame and money, because you have your own successful career.

It all works, you balance one another out. It's heavenly and healthy and you couldn't wish for any better. And even if you did, how does it get better than this?

The total length of the holiday is three days, Friday to Sunday. It's a weekend that will surely be filled with lots of alcohol, lots of partying and lots of good memories to take home.

Oh and let's not forget about the embarrassing pictures that will be sure to haunt you, as well as the stripper all of the girls collectively hired for your sister. She's going to kill all of you, and you're not even slightly bothered by that.

The journey to the airport was as short as you wanted it to be and now you're just waiting around for the rest of the ladies to arrive. You all agreed to meet outside the airport and you've been here for almost an hour now. Thankfully you haven't been alone, your sister is here with you. The two of you have just had a small catchup of your week before nearly falling off of your suitcase the second you hear a bundle of screams.

As you look up you instantly see Jessica, Lucia, Callie, Myla and Angela. They all have grins that run from ear to ear and you instantly get up, running towards them along with your sister Dalia.

The seven of you all squeeze one another, jumping around in circles and insisting that the weekend is going to be crazy and fun. It's time for the bachelorette to really begin.

"Sooooooo... i brought some shots for us all to take now, to you know, kick things off" Angela says, rummaging through her hand luggage to find 6 bottled shots of tequila. Okay, she didn't come to play around today, one thing you absolutely adore about Angela. She's the biggest party animal of the group and it's the best thing. You know that you'll always have fun with her. No doubt about it.

Whilst you all knock back the shot, faces wincing at the taste, Chris sits at home alone. His feet rest up on the coffee table, something you always tell him off for, as he thinks over what takeout he's going to order tonight.

It's now been two and a half hours and he has no sense of time. He knows this because two and a half hours has felt like five. As dramatic as it seems. But to be perfectly honest, it's most likely due to the beer he's been drinking. This is his third and he's nowhere near ready to stop.

As a man that's always wanted the best for his girlfriend, to want her to have her own career, her own hobbies separate to being with him, he sure is feeling the polar opposite. He wants you here with him, all up in his face with your breathtaking smile as you straddle him. Your lips becoming increasingly enticing. God he's down bad, and he knows it.

Whatever happened to the Chris that enjoyed his space, that enjoyed having alone time? He has zero idea. But it's weird and unfamiliar territory to be in right now. He's lost.

As you were packing last night he kept trying to put your clothes back, his way of jokingly asking you to stay of course. But it didn't work. You're still gone. Granted, it is for your sisters bachelorette and it's only for the weekend, so he guesses he can cope alone. Maybe he'll even call Scott over. Or, he could even pay his beloved mom a visit. Have some family time. Yeah, maybe that'll distract him.

He has the best ideas when intoxicated.

Placing the beer bottle on the coffee table, Chris sits up and pulls his phone out, clicking on his brothers contact to call.

"Wanna come over tonight?" he asks, and it doesn't take long before Scott is won over. Alcohol, pizza and Disney movies? Sold.

-----------------------

Not long after the pizza arrives, Scott does too, with a six pack of beer in hand. Chris already has some in but he’ll never say no to more. Especially since he’s had quite a few since calling Scott to invite him over. 

“You stink of beer and....” Scott steps closer and inhales one last time “is that whiskey?” he asks, voice laced with concern.

“Careful brother, you’re sounding awfully judgemental right now” Chris raises a brow before taking the six pack from his brother and heading into the kitchen.

“I take it Y/N left already” well isn’t he the observant one today.

“She did indeed and i’m fine by the way, a little space is healthy” he isn’t fooling anyone with that lie.

Chris is perfectly fine with you having your own space though, he’s just being overly dramatic as per usual and feeling sorry for himself. He’d never actually stop you from doing your own thing just to stay close to him. He loves that you have an active social life. However, lately he’s just felt the need to be closer to you. Whenever you’ve cuddled it genuinely felt like he wanted to merge with you, if that even makes sense. But you love it. You love this occasional side to him. At least it means he adores you and can’t get enough.

Besides, being that his schedule is so hectic a lot of the time, it’s nice that whenever he does get a break that he likes to be around you every second he can be. It fills you with warmth and security. 

“Sure....” Scott trails off before heading into the lounge with some pizza and a beer with Chris trailing behind slowly, bottle of whiskey in hand as well as the box of pizza. 

The television goes on, more depressing news, nothing to capture Chris’s attention. But with whiskey to compete with, it was hardly ever going to win. Not even politics is pulling him away from his pity party. 

Scott chuckles as Chris eats his pizza whilst staring into the distance, knowing full well his brothers little tantrum will end soon. He’s just a lost puppy right now, worse than Dodger when he doesn’t get his own way. 

It’s all just over dramatised in his own head. Because to Chris, it’s usually him travelling around for press junkets, filming and premiers. However, you usually accompany him for the premiers. Whenever the roles are reversed, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. And he doesn’t remember the last time he felt so strongly about a woman where it lead him to be so clingy. It’s strange. 

“You’ll be okay, quit moping already” typical brotherly love as always from Scott as he rolls his eyes with a smile on his face when passing Chris on his way to the bathroom. 

“Not helpful” Chris grumbles, causing Scott to cackle down the hall, the echo making him laugh twice as hard. 

Chris just shakes his head, half annoyed his brother isn’t trying to make him feel better and half amused at Scotts reaction to his attempt to gain sympathy.

It’ll be a long night by the looks of things so maybe Chris should quit this half feigned and half authentic sadness. Deep down he knows you deserve the chance to let your hair down with your girls and relax. You work so hard, you deserve this break from the boring day to day routine. 

Flight boarded, luggage checked in and now sitting comfortable in your seat, you await the announcement for seatbelts to be fastened and whilst you do so you decide to pull your phone out. Your chat with Chris pops up on your phone as a recent message appears from him.

Chris: Please come back, make this loneliness end

His begging makes you swoon in the strangest way possible. It’s certainly not something you ever saw yourself loving, being as past similar situations have had you cringing, the opposite effect so to speak. But with Chris, it’s something you adore. He’s made you feel things you’ve never felt before. It’s unfamiliar territory every single day with him, unfamiliar in the best way possible though. 

You: You’ll be okay, trust me. Besides, think of the hot reunion sex we’ll have when i’m home...it’ll all feel worth it then. Missing you already. I love you x

Chris: I’ll make sure i get the rose petals ready then. I love you too, have a safe flight and call me when you land x

You: I will, i love you more x

Scott watches Chris’s lips tip up in a grin as he stares down at his iPhone, clearly you sprinkled some attention upon him, there’d be no other explanation, either that or he’s looking at pictures of you like the lovestruck puppy he’s always been just for you. When Chris falls, he falls hard. It’s been known. And Scott has only seen that a small number of times. He’s glad his brother has you in his life.

As Chris places his phone down, smile still rife on his face, not looking to go anywhere anytime soon, he takes a sip of his drink before finishing off his slice of pizza. Just that little text exchange alone was enough to fulfil his craving of you...for now. When he attempts to sleep alone in your shared bed, that’s when he’ll be at his most dramatic. And if only you’d be able to see it, you’d most likely poke fun at him whilst also telling him it’s adorable.

And then you’d laugh, the laugh he’s longing to hear. 

God he really should get a grip of himself. What have you turned him in?

Chris glances out of the window through the slightly open curtains at the sun as it starts to set.

It spurs on memories of the two of you, with Dodger in tow, lounging around outside, a mountain with the most gorgeous view. Steaming hot coffee, in your hand as you sit with you knees to your chest whilst he covers you with edges of a blanket from behind.

It makes him smile a little, his heart warming with just the memory alone.

That's it, he needs to distract himself. He stands up abruptly before making his way to the piano out in the hall.

Taking one last swig of his whiskey before placing it atop of the piano.

His hands scatter across the notes, pressing random ones to familiarise himself, he hasn't played in a hot minute, that's for sure.

After a couple rounds of random chords, he slips into the George Michael classic, Careless Whisper.

Humming along with the music he's making, he slowly starts to murmur the words.

"Tonight the music seems so loud, i wish that we could lose this crowd. Maybe it's better this way, we'd hurt each other with the things we'd want to say"

Scott makes his way out to watch as his brother sings beautifully. He's always loved hearing Chris sing, but it's a rarity these days.

"We could have been so good together, we could have lived this dance forever"

Without thinking about it, Scott pulls out his phone, hitting record as Chris pauses to swig more whiskey before continuing seconds later.

"But now, who's gonna dance with me? Please, stay. And i'm never gonna dance again, guilty feet have got no rhythm"

More intermittent piano playing fills the hall before he comes back in with the last of the song.

"So i'm never gonna dance again, the way i danced with you" closing out with a couple of notes, he sighs to himself before stopping and turning to Dodger.

"Missing your mommy, bud? Me too"

The fluffy dog doesn't respond in any way, just sits there, silently judging his dad.

And then Scotts laughter breaks him away from his trance.

"That is genius" he says, typing on his phone before popping it away in his pocket.

"What is?" Chris's brows furrow but Scott waves him off. "Oh, nothing, just some tiktok i found. Are you done moping yet?"

With a roll of the eyes, Chris shrugs.

"Possibly. Wanna play Mario Kart?" he suggest, knowing that'll get Scotts full attention.

He nods as the two of them head into the lounge and set up the games console.

Once you land and get your bags altogether, you check your phone in the line to the bathroom at the airport.

A tiktok notification alerts you that Scott has uploaded. You click it to check it out and have to immediately turn the volume down until you can put your earphones in. Once they are, you play it from the start.

It's a video of Chris, he's sat at the piano, Dodger sat by his side. He starts to sing to no one in particular. But it's the song he sings that makes your heart swell with love.

"George Michael" you say out loud, well, you whisper it.

He seems so lost without you. Maybe you should text him.

Midway through his second win, Scott groans as Chris pauses the game to check his phone that just went off.

Y/N: Landed safely. I'll call you later when we get to the beach house. P.s you really should sing more often, i loved your video x

Frowning at the last part, Chris mumbles to himself.

But as he goes to ask Scott, his phone starts to blow up, notification after notification. Twitter, Instagram, TikTok. It's nonstop.

He opens TikTok first, only to be horrified to find that Scott filmed him singing earlier.

As soon as Scotts eyes meet Chris's, he knows he's found.

"Oh you are so dead"

Scott gets up and runs with Chris chasing him. Some things never change.

------------------------------

General Tags: @deadlymistress24 @coffeebooksandfandom @holtzkinnon @mychemicalimagines @llamadelreyx @haus-of-bitch-talk @buckstaybucky @thewinchestergirl1208 @chrissquares @patzammit @cevans-fics @americasass91 @toni9 @aaliferous @bradfordmyworld @thereisa8ella @yassspose @randomsevans @meetmeatyourworst @leyannrae @rainbowkisses31

Just Chris & His Character Tags: @sheofthegarden @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @mrslokibarnesrogers @princess-evans-addict @stxvercgersslut @chris-evanslover @bval-1 @thejemersoninferno @denisemarieangelina @janeyboo @evansphnx12 @dwights-new-plague @whxre4cevans @cherry-gemz @chvntelle-99 @talley84 @peakascum @allthingschrisevans @janaev4ns @moonlacebeam

Let me know if you want to be tagged. The Chris tag list will now just be for his characters as i will no longer be writing for him. This was simply me finishing off a fic i started.

Hope you loved it x

#chris evans #cevans #mcu #marvel #chris evans x you #chris evans x fem!reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x female!reader #reader inserts #x fem!reader #x reader #x female!reader #x female reader #fluff #chris evans fluff

[infiniteeight8]

If you're still open to prompts...

I just reread your Fidelity, Honesty, and Joy series and am wondering if you have a little drabble (or a big drabble) you'd feel inspired to share?

(For folks who aren't familiar this is a Steter series.)

Normally I try to do prompts in order, and I have a bunch that are older than this one, but my muse is being stubborn tonight and this is the one that worked for me. So here we go!

This prompt inspired me to open my notes file for this series, and the third fic is basically completely plotted out, I just haven’t written it. So have a little conversation from that fic! It’s between Noah and Peter, so Stiles doesn’t appear, alas.

-

“Peter,” Noah says as he starts the dishwasher going. “I’d like to talk to you in the my office for a minute.”

A spike of anxiety lances through Peter. He keeps his expression relaxed, friendly, but Stiles gives him away, poking his head into the kitchen. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s <i>fine</i>,” Noah says, treating each of them to an exasperated look. “Please stop treating me like the bad guy here; I haven’t done anything to warrant it.”

Stiles winces. “Sorry.” He still gives Peter a concerned glance.

Peter isn’t reassured at all, but that has more to do with his history than with Noah. Nevertheless, he allows the man to usher him into his office and pour him a drink. When they’ve both taken a sip, Noah leans back in his chair, gives Peter a long look, and says, “So what do you do for fun?”

It isn’t often that Peter is thrown completely off balance, but that does it. “Excuse me?”

“What do you do for fun,” Noah repeats. “Hobbies. You know.”

Peter stares at Noah. He looks back steadily. “You’re serious?”

“Completely.” Noah sips his drink.

Mentally, Peter casts about for a moment. “I read,” he offers eventually.

Noah nods. “Why kinds of books?” Somehow, Peter doesn’t think ‘spell books’ is going to be an acceptable answer. It’s been so long since he read anything else, he can’t immediately think of a plausible genre, and by then the pause has given him away. “I’m going to take a guess here,” Noah says, “and say that you’ve spent every minute since you woke up scheming for… I don’t know. Vengeance? Power? Pack?”

“That’s… not inaccurate,” Peter admits. He catches Noah’s eyes. “That’s over now, though.”

“I believe you,” Noah says, which is a surprise. He smiles at Peter’s expression. “I’m a decent judge of character, Peter, and you’ve been living under my roof for two weeks.” He goes serious again. “I believe you that that’s over, which begs the question, what are you going to do with yourself now?”

Peter can only think of one answer to that. “Take care of Stiles.”

“Good luck,” Noah says dryly. “Stiles mostly takes care of himself. But even aside from that… Stiles can’t be your whole life, Peter.”

“Because he’s so young?” Peter ventures.

Noah shakes his head. “We’d still be having this conversation if he was thirty. Building your whole life around a single person just isn’t healthy. Completely aside from what it would do to you if something happened to Stiles, it’s unfair to make him bear full responsibility for your happiness.”

“I wouldn’t expect him to,” Peter protests.

Noah raises his eyebrows. “Do you think you won’t feel lost if he has to go away for a while? Do you think he wouldn’t notice? And feel responsible? You think he won’t realize one day that the only things you have to talk about are your ‘work’ for the pack and whatever you two do together? It only took me three conversations.”

Peter looks down at his drink. “He’s always going to be the center of my life. I can’t help that. It’s…” Peter waves a hand, looking up at Noah. “Pack.”

“That’s fine,” Noah says. “The problem isn’t Stiles being the most important thing you have, Peter. The problem is him being the only thing you have.” He knocks back the rest of his drink. “Get some hobbies. Make some friends. Learn how to be a real person again.”

#Steter #ficlet #really this is a fic excerpt

[toontalks]

Act Like You Love Me ~ Review

Where we read it? Webtoon

Completion status: Complete

_/10

Categories: Romance. Comedy. Modern Setting. Entertainment Business.

Warning: Includes misunderstandings and a love triangle

Ji-eon is jobless and apartment hunting. During her tenure as a cashier(among other jobs), a customer paid with a doll…What? Turns out this doll has the ability to control famous Korean actor Doyun Nam. After applying to be an extra on set, she runs into *drumroll please….Doyun Nam. He mistakes her for an assistant and orders her around, she loses her spot as a film extra and is sent home. Ji-eon goes home that day calculating how much she spent. Pissed, she takes it out on the poor doll.

Excerpt from episode one:

Ji-eon shook the Minji doll aggressively, “How dare you make me work for free?! Get on your knees and beg for forgiveness!! I can’t believe you didn’t offer me one of the coffees! I bought them with my own money! Lick my toes you ungrateful jerk!” She continued, letting out stress in a healthy way.

Out of nowhere her doorbell rings. It must be the landlady coming to complain about the noise level. She opened the door and lo behold, the centre of her frustrations kneeled at her doorstep, bowing.

“Why- Why am i- …Sorry!! I’m so sorry! Please forgive me!!!!”

“HUH?!”

Our Thoughts ?

A great binge read now that it’s complete. The character’s had unique personalities and evident flaws which added to their development, Doyun’s overcoming of his anxiety (although that could have been handled better), Ji-eon’s little display of selfishness when he got the opportunity to go abroad and Se-in’s overall lack of social abilities and empathy (to an extent). The progression of the relationship seemed realistic as all characters faced relatable problems for the everyday worker and though they had some…frustrating arcs, and classic miscommunications/misunderstandings (Good lord there were so many) and lack of communication, the eventual resolutions were satisfying.

It was a little disappointing Se-in didn’t find love, the author cleared that up in the afterword so I wish him luck in his love life, but they could have at least have given the man a cat though. On the other hand, I’m so glad Sahye, Doyun’s obsessive ex didn’t get a redemption arc. After what she put Mcs and the guy who liked her through, it didn’t make sense to redeem her because her wrong-doings were purely out of selfish motives. For that, I applaud the creators because it’s common to see characters get redemption arcs or happy endings they didn't deserve.

It was nice to see that Ji-eon finally got a job that she enjoyed instead of relying solely on Doyun for income, it helps bring a little more balance to their relationship.

One thing that took away from the story however was the ending which we thought was rather unsatisfactory. They’re engaged so why didn’t we see a wedding? It might be a bit early in their engagement but a time skip isn't that hard… Even though the spin-offs cleared up some things, readers  (us) were deprived of a wedding scene. We could have at least gotten wedding attire in the afterword :(

#manhwa #webcomic #webtoon #act like you love me #webtoons #minji doll #doyun nam #ji-eon lee #webtoonquotes #webtoon originals #webtoon comic #webtoon recommendation

[skippyv20]

$old their $ouls!

Hi Skippy & Friends- Pilgrim here with some thoughts on what the press insists are "stunning, in style" photos of the latest Kardashian "fairytale" (?) family escapade. I apologize for the length but they are over achieving here. To me it looks like an invitation to a medieval gathering with dungeon attire or maybe an old fashioned Roman orgy. I do know for a fact-high heels (D & G included) are totally verboten on yachts.

According to the US Sun, the kids are disgusted with their mother's overt behavior. "KOURTNEY Kardashian has continued her "excessive" PDA with Travis Barker during their wedding weekend in Italy even as her kids beg their mother to stop." Thank goodness for kids honesty! This is the most healthy comment so far but it is absolutely out of control when children are forced to become the parents.

These aging Kardashian women and Barker look depraved using their children for an outright mercantile event. The Daily Mail reports, "The worldwide coverage of the reality stars showcasing the brand’s clothes against the idyllic backdrop of the Italian Riviera is set to give millions of pounds worth of free publicity to Dolce & Gabbana which has been hit by controversies in recent years." They say all publicity is good but I have my doubts about this crass excuse for a fashion show.

Must be a match made in heaven and I am not referring the the bride and groom who are on their 3rd wedding so far. Their dress rehearsal was the Las Vegas a la Elvis drunken ceremony. There was the small wedding in LA after the Grammys, where he played and then the daytime court ceremony, in Santa Barbara, arriving in a vintage car where the bride wore white Band-Aids. Now, this Dolce and Gabbana spectacle accompanied by multiple media crews filming 24/7. When the gals are posing with designers hovering, making sure each inch-yard-of material is in the right place, their ideas look sexy/chic...but when these curvaceous gals start to move, the outfits are useless compromising the women's integrity. The children have lost any angelic aura with tired, sullen faces sporting weird get-ups.

The ultimate insult it seems to me, is they think we will like this nonsense. Perhaps the reason why D & G is having trouble is because of what we are seeing here? What kind of designer ceremony are they creating in the name of religion to cleanse this performance wedding? Social services should be knocking on their gigantic doors back in Calabasas, CA investigating these kids welfare. Has this K lost her way? Is she having some kind mid-life/alter ego crisis hooking up with a rock band drummer who seems to think licking people in public is polite? She obviously trusts this man more than any other person leading me to think this is not a well balanced relationship.

The famous quote from Hamlet comes to mind. "Something is rotten in the state of Denmark." I think we can substitute Portofino for the location today. What is the speculation on the paycheck for the K family? Surely their marketing-momma-mogul is not doing this for free with all of them showing up and working it. Those new mega mansions, designer jets and divorces must have taken quite a bite out of the budget. Over and out for now. Long live the queen!

Thank YOU Pilgrim! I love this…..you speak for many!🙂❤️❤️❤️❤️

[passion-preaching]

Dear Life Coach, 

I am an undergraduate student at Syracuse University and everythings been going downhill since I got here.  It seems like everything that could possibly be going wrong has been. My boyfriend broke up with me within the first week. I got COVID within the first week. Found out my Mom might have breast cancer. Can’t seem to find a sense of balance. And I’m feeling like Syracuse University just isn’t the place for me, and might not be manageable. I don’t know what to do or where to start. Please help me, life coach. 

Dear anonymous, 

I wish I could say this empathetically, but since it won't serve you in the best way, I’ll share with you some insights that I’ve learned. 

What you’re going through sounds like some tough shit. It sucks. But there are ways to find joy in what you’re doing. Heard of exercise? Working out? Staying healthy? Staying motivated? It all may seem stupid, but it’s so important for your mental health and well being. Let me break it down even more for you. 

Working out releases positive endorphins into your brain, endorphins that can give you more confidence, release stress and anxiety. They are produced within your brain and act as messengers to the body. Mayo Clinic also has something to say about the topic and I want you to comprehend what it’s saying. Mayoclinic.org says, “Releasing feel-good endorphins, natural cannabis-like brain chemicals (endogenous cannabinoids) and other natural brain chemicals that can enhance your sense of well-being.” 

Do you know how powerful these endorphins are? How they can literally rewire your brain to think differently? How they can take your mind off the world for a minute and allow you to just be focused on yourself and your own progress and well-being. They can act to help you gain confidence in yourself. And by learning how to stay motivated can help YOU to be a better person in so many aspects and forms. 

Do not get me wrong, there will always be those day where you think:

“I can’t do it.” 

“Just not today.”

“There is no use.”

“What’s the point?”

But… 

I bet you have found yourself comfortable in your own sadness, your negative thoughts. You’re literally drowning yourself in your sorrow and weeping. Maybe these thoughts will be with you forever. You’re begging for help. 

Except: No one can hear you. 

You feel so alone.

So what does this mean? 

It means it’s time to try something new. It’s time to get your ass up and start working, for real. Start being your own boss, your own worst enemy, constantly fighting in your mind. 

You’ve become accustomed to comfort when only giving, what? 40%, sometimes 50%. But there’s a whole other 50% of you left to give, you just haven’t gotten there yet. It’s you against you. You are against your own mind that will constantly tell you, “I can’t do it.” But learn to push past this, and you’ll be the best enemy yourself has ever been. You’ll reach a point where you just don’t know if you can continue. This leads us back to motivation. Find what works for you, find what you confide in to be joyful, to be entertaining, give yourself rewards. Healthy rewards, both physically and mentally. 

Don’t get me wrong now, going to the gym, is fucking terrifying. 

All these random, jacked up, steroid-jacking looking men and women. You want to compare yourself. 

STOPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP. 

Don’t look, at least I try not to. 

Focus on yourself and on your own personal growth. Boss up brother, and get to accomplishing that sense of belonging. Train your brain to think differently. Grow like a seed in the roots of freshly wet soil.

You got this, and I believe in you, boss. 

#inspiration #motivateyourself #boss up #anoymous #you got this #be yourself

[effervescentandpuzzlingself]

👀

Dear Reader,

I must tell you that my life is not perfect but I am choosing to see the positive things. The old version of myself could neither predict nor compete with the new Zy. 

Here are some changes in my life:

1. I am more secure now that I know what I can offer. I am more confident with who I am and how I respond to situations. I just realize that I have to take the advice I keep giving to my friends and family whenever they are not motivated enough. I need to listen to myself. (I surely give interestingly kind and mature advice. HAHA!)

2. I have been complimenting people more often than ever if I get the impression that they deserve it. Men or women. I just think people need to know how others see them. I remember one time I saw my colleague with a new haircut that actually fits her style, and I was like, “Your haircut looks good on you. “ I also complimented a friend when he sent me a photo of him wearing black polo. I said that his shoulders look more defined with it. It perfectly conformed to the shape of his upper trunk.

3. I have let go of the version of myself where I try to please people. I no longer pretend. I say what I want to say but I am more careful of how I deliver my words. If I do not like something, I say no without guilt. I can say that I finally learned the art of protecting my inner peace. I no longer care what people say about me.

4. This one is funny. I no longer care about being mysterious. I am who I am. I don’t want any more guesses. This is me. What you see is what you get (but even better if you are my person). 

5. I am now okay with going out on dates, basically to know what I really prefer in a relationship, and what I am looking for in a partner. I used to say that I hate dating. Before, I just needed to know if we both liked each other, and if we do, we would officially go out together. I have always thought that dating means you are in a romantic relationship but not officially, and it is such a waste of time. Screw that idea. Anyway, now I know that there are a couple of definitions of dating. I realize that dating with boundaries is possible and that there is no need to do what the actual couple does, just merely getting to know someone. I know better now.  

6. I am braver now than in previous years. I do not settle for anything less. I know what I want. I know what I need. I do not want to be an option. I can never be an option. Haha! After so many years of mastering self-love, I would not let anyone ruin that for me. While I am ready to be in a relationship, I will never beg for affection and respect.  It is true though that I am still learning to love another person than myself and put my trust in them, but I know that I am willing to work it out with someone as long as they are patient and understanding. 

7. I feel like I shouldn't shut out the fact that I go to the doctor once or twice a week. Hahaha! I would not go into detail, but suffice it to say that this is now a regular part of my life. I am okay though. I am healthy so far, and I am excited about life.

8. Career-wise, I know what I want and I'm only waiting for the right moment to act.

9. I always say that I do not give chances to people, but then I realize that I actually do forgive but with caution. I am starting to acknowledge this part of myself as I realize there is nothing wrong with being gentle and kind. One can know their self-worth without limiting interactions and someone’s chance to change. It is really about finding balance.

I think that’s all for now. How about you? What changes have you noticed in your life this 2023?😄

#z

[nihilisticputita]

Morning Card Pull: The Call for a Sacred Revolution

Two of Pentacles and Ace of Pentacles both reversed: Lack of balance, fear, and hesitation.

For far too long, I have knowingly lived my life out of balance. Making all the wrong decisions and running on auto pilot. Literally in a state of life paralysis, watching myself fall down a chaotic, depressive hole and watching time continue, and my peers outgrow me. A personal limbo of my own design. Over the last few months, I have felt the desperate call to action from within my Self to STOP.. to save my Self. The time for change has been overdue and my spirit is begging for mercy. Only I can create the reality I so desire. Of course, it is only natural to doubt yourself. It's a big task and my track record only proves to stand against me. Fear is natural, we are cautious creatures by nature and it is with that feeling that those in power continue to control us. It is not the fear itself that's the problem, but it's allowing it to stop you from trying that is so dangerous.

Goddess Kali & Black Obsidian

This card brings forth a massive wave of empowerment. As a cycle that no longer serves us is ending, a new order must be established. Kali is strong, powerful, and straight to the point. She does not fall back until divine consciousness tells her it's time; meaning there is no turning back until the order is met. This is a call for transformation and healing. I must be willing to let go of that which no longer serves me. To be courageous in the time of change and doubt in order to evolve into an entirely new state of being. Face uncertainty calmly, divine radical change is headstrong but also loving. Kali may rip my "lifeboat" out from under me but that is because she already knows that I'm an excellent swimmer. After so many years of toxic patterns lodging into my psyche, the only way to bring about change is not through subtlety, but through SACRED RADICAL REVOLUTION.

Love yourself and let go ~~~

Partnered with the seer will and force of Kali, needs to be the self commitment to my own integrity. Listening to my body and my intuition when I am given the option between something that isn't in alignment with my highest truth. Anxiety, discomfort, that gut feeling you get when you agree to do something you know isn't corresponding with your inner integrity. Getting out of a relationship that is no longer serving regardless of the love that is there. Cutting back on the lifestlye that is killing me. Why does there seem to be such an internal pressure to do the things that I don't even want to do anymore, or to be what I'm not for another person to love me? Those patterns are so deep-rooted, so of course, the remedy needed is a dramatic shift, to knock us back into place. Kinda like a slap in the face. The more I use my voice and make choices that align with my truth, the easier it'll become for me to live that authentically. And the stronger, more secure of my Self I will be.

Light energy surrounds me, Kali is clearing the way, and now the rest is up to me. Spirit made it very clear during this morning's pull that I'm going to have to do A LOT of work. Waking up early one day out of the week to do yoga and journal won't be enough, but it is a damn good start. I need to slow down and take each day as it comes. I cannot become everything overnight.

Life is the ceremony ~~~

Less focus on finances and materialism and more on a healthy mind, body, and soul.

I am a goddess and a creatrix of my own reality.

The devil will always be there, tempting me, calling me home. I am not perfect, there is a side to me that enjoys the darkness. It has been my home for so long that I seek comfort there. But it is time to grow, to be the nurturer of my inner child. Give my Self the love and validation I've spent so long seeking from others. I am a seeker and student. I am so grateful for everything that has happened in my life to get me here. Every seed I plant and all the work I put forth will grow abundantly to fill me back up 10 fold.

So it will be <3

#tarotoftheday #kali #goddess #enlightenedbeings #spirit

[strugglingclassicist]

I somehow managed to find myself on a committee consisting of me and the two professors I have this semester. Friday afternoon I received an email introducing the project/some of what we have to do and I thought excellent, I’ll look at it and come back to them before the next week starts, then let it rest until now for me to see that they have both been very much active during the weekend going back and forth and I get a feeling very much like when I open a group chat to 83 unread messages but in the objectively worse format of “email: respond to everyone” and also there are Responsibilities 

#get a healthy work life balance I am begging you #it's okay that I don't have it bc I am a young and green student still #seriously tho sometimes I get worried about one of them I really fear he's going to crash and burn at one point #universitag

[diaday333]

Hello, hello! Today's topic is...(drumroll please)... What neighbourhood song describes you! I thought that this would be a fun topic (I am in a silly goofy mood I would say). There will be three parts to this reading: your personality, your life, and you in your truest form! Now usually, I don't like doing odd number piles that are not three, but I'll make an exception this time! Now for the piles, whichever one you pick, the pictures are the album covers, but it doesn't mean the song will be in that album. Without further ado, let's get into it! ALSO OMG OMG OMG WERE ALMOST AT 100 FOLLOWERS

To pick a pile, take a deep breath, relax, and pick which album cover you're most drawn to.

Warning ! Warning! Remember, tarot readings are not the end all be all. So if there is something that you don't like or if it doesn't resonate, don't take it! Second, don't take tarot readings as replacement for professional advice, I beg of you. Finally, I'm dyslexic, so if something is... Off, either call it out or ignore it and move on with your life-respectfully.

Last but not least, I'm offering free readings as long as they are not too long! Just DM me! Oh also, I will not be doing free readings after January 21, so get them while they're hot!

Pile one

Hello! Let's see what Neighbourhood song describes the aspects of your life! Are you excited? I am!

Your personality: Afraid

Let's get them explanations! First, some lines that stand out are:

-all my friends always lie to me

-Youre too mean, I don't like you.

- being me can only mean feeling scared to breathe

You feel like you have to hide your true personality from people for them to like you. Which isn't it bestie, you're amazing the way you are, don't fun your light to fit in! You're hardworking, sentimental, fun, and all around loveable !

Your life: Jealou$y

Some lines that stand out are:

-girl you know I'm on my grind

-rest in pieces peace of mind

- I'll take you on the open road, you'll take me where the ocean goes

Growing up you were taught that you always have to be working to mean something. Hustle culture you know. And because of that, you work yourself half to death and don't take any breaks. You're might be good at lying. Because of hard you work, you think that you don't have any time for anything besides it, love, friends, etc.

You in your truest form: baby came home 2/ valentines

Some lines:

- I was only 22 with a pocket full of truth

- the land lord called, she said you gotta go

- who I am gonna call?

You in truest form knows that they don't need to rely on anyone for anything and for most of you, I'm getting that you're already living that truth. You in your truest form doesn't let anyone F with them. Basically the face of confidence. Real boss shit. You in your truest form knows healthy work to life balance.

Advice for my besties: live a little. By the Gods, you need it! Smile! Youre beautiful and so is your smile! Dance! Bust a move! You don't have to do it in public, just dance alone in your room. Start a journal ! Listen to some good music! Scream into a pillow!

Pile two

Hello, hello! Hope your excited!

Your personality: the shining

Some lines that stick out me

- You've been shinin'Like, diamonds, blindin'

- you've been provin, you're superhuman

- you've got a heart of gold

Oh my gosh, excuse my unprofessionalism, but you're babie. Super kind and sweet! You could also be a hopeless romantic. Like the lyrics said, you've got a heart of gold! You glow and people stop to look at you when walk down the street! It's like they can see your heart by looking at you !

Your life: scary love

Some lines

- I don't want to be alone

- baby I got good luck with you

- Just watchin' you glow

- I'm in the passenger seat, you're in control

People have always been drawn to you. Whether or not you've been romantic relationships or not, this is definitely a fact. People feel blessed just to be around you. You're like a drug to people. Being with you is an adventure! You're definitely popular among the masses, whether you know it or not! You're magnetic 😳

You in your truest form: Daddy issues

Some lines:

- take you like a drug

- I tell you that I'm thinking about, whatever you're thinking about

- nobody does it like you do

Seriously bestie, what's going on with you! It's seems like you're blessed by our divine Lady Aphrodite herself! Honestly... Whatever you're doing, it's right! Youre living like your true self would! Sheesh, what icons...

Advice for my besties: just... Keep doing what you're doing. Honestly! Bestie you got it going on! But for real tho, dont feel like you need to fix everybody! " I can fix him..." Besties that is NOT you're job! If your searching for a partner, than you will definitely have success! Which is weird advice, but blame spirit, not me! Proud of y'all. Youre working hard on yourself and keep it going.

Pile three

Don't know why, but I'm very excited for this pile! Let's get into it!

Your personality: W.D.Y.W.F.M

Some lines that stand out

- maybe you're right, maybe this all that I can be

- what do you want from me

- she's crazy though, and I guess she took control

You struggle with other's thoughts of you. Even though you know it's rational to not let people's thoughts get to you, you can't help it. You're the type of person to work through the pain. You're a truly unique person though. Though you struggle with people's opinions on you, at the same time, you don't care and you do your own thing.

Your life: Lurk

Some lines

- I want to be honest

- is it too much to ask

- last thing that we should do is go slow

A lot of you didn't have the best childhood and probably used escapism or maladaptive daydreaming to cope (me too besties..) you live fast paced! You could of been shunned in your family for being different (ex. Queerness). But you try to make the best of your days. You feel like you didn't have a childhood

You in your truest form: Stargazing

Some lines

- it's a race against the clock

- keep running till we're lost

- made it pretty far on the first try

Oh, besties, you in your truest form knows that everything is going to be okay. They know that you have all the time in the world. And that you only have one life and you need to live it and not let dumb people control it. Your truest form takes healthy chances and risks. Life goes on.

Advice for my besties: love yourself. This may sound weird, but love yourself like you would like love your dream person/ partner. Plan a vacation, if you can. Even if it's not going somewhere, (which you shouldn't since we're still in the middle of a pandemic) but like go outside! Spend time with family. Now, it's doesn't have to be blood family, it could be found family. Like friends. Make yourself feel beautiful.

Pile four

Hello, hello! Let's get into the readings!

Your personality: lurk

Some lines that stand out

- I want to destroy you

- I want to be raw

- I think that I'm wrong

- I fuck you in love (😳)

Alrighty, I'm getting that you're an more emotional person than most people are around you. You're the type person who needs to be certain in everything. You want to know the truth of things and not beat around the bush. You're more possessive like of your friends and lovers.

Your life: Dangerous

Some lines:

- I did it, look who brought with me

- don't talk much, I don't say shit

- we're made to love

Hopeless romantics, the lot of you. You love to be in love. Whenever you're in a relationship you feel Like you're untouchable. Growing up you've might've been taught that you immediately have to get married (especially if you're afab). For some of you, this didn't bother you. Growing up, some people have said that you're intense. Some of you are more on the naive side.

You in your truest form: fallen star

Some lines:

- I'll keep you far away from me, like a star

- I wanna be your lifeline, but everybody can't be a millionaire

- you're in my DNA, I can't keep away no matter how hard I try

You in your truest form would be an amazing person to be in a relationship with and I'm getting that you even are right now. You in your truest from would demand attention and wouldn't take no for an answer (in appropriate situations). You would never doubt yourself. You would never except less for yourself. You in your truest from would know that after something bad happens, life goes on.

Advice for my besties: keep being a bad B. Let yourself feel your emotions without judgement. Let yourself move on also. Explore the magickal areas in your life.

Pile five

Hello, pile fives! Last, but not least, let's get into your messages.

Your personality: #icanteven

Some lines that stand out:

- you can't even, you can't even, say I'm overreacting

- shame on me, you fooled me twice

- you like to say that you're right

You might be a person that holds grudges. You're also a person that beats themselves up over their mistakes. Also, you might have trust issues. You hold in your true feelings until you explode. More blunt person. You have an admirable personality. People look up to you for your more outspoken nature.

Your life: W.D.Y.W.F.M?

Some lines:

- three days before she told me that I don't even try

- what do you want from me

- maybe we'll fight 'til they move us a long

Growing up, people around you could've put you down a lot. For awhile you believed it. When you got older, you began to realize how wrong it was. You try to be more optimistic most of the time. You also could've/ still do struggled with intrusive thoughts. Due to childhood, you don't let people walk all over you (as you shouldn't).

You in your truest form: unfair

Some lines:

- unfair (that's the only line)

You call out what's unfair. And you don't let people treat you unfairly. You treat every new day as a new opportunity. You don't worry. You know when to let go. You treat yourself right. You in your truest from you won't hide.

Advice for my besties: trust yourself. Don't hide from yourself or others. Stand up for yourself. Take what's yours. Make yourself feel beautiful. Connect with your inner self using meditation.

Ok besties that's it for the piles! I gotta say, that was super fun and I'm definitely doing it again! If you have suggestions for what artist I should do next or just what reading you want to see, you should comment it! Thank you for reading and goodbye!

#free tarot readings #pick a card reading #pick a pile #tarot #tarot reading #tarotblr #witchblr #pick a card #spotify #the neighbourhood #shufflemancy #divination

[damiano-mylove]

Movie Night

Pairing: Damiano David x fem!reader

Wc: 2.6k (sorry)

Cw(s): SMUT, bit of angst, swearing ofc, long for some reason, begging, not proof read

*Masterlist*

Work is a healthy habit to get into - to a certain extent. If you work to avoid your problems, that's not particularly one of the most healthy things to do. The only problem working can fix is if you're poor, but really minimum wage doesn't fix that either.

But your Damiano wasn't poor, he wasn't being paid minimum wage. You knew how much he loved working on music with his friends, but he was barely home and you missed him. Being without Damiano almost felt like being without your left arm - especially since it had been so abrupt, going from him spending a few hours writing, to spending almost a full day in the studio.

Tonight was supposed to be movie night. That Damiano had suggested. To make up for lost time.

So, you found yourself, alone, on your velvet red couch, watching Alice in Wonderland, with your cat on your lap. His purrs filled whatever wavelengths were left empty by the film, but you didn't mind that at all. Your fingers found their way into his incredibly soft fur, which felt like silk between those fingers of yours.

The clock soon struck midnight, and the film hit the end credits soon after. Damiano was still not home from the studio, which almost worried you. Almost. In the earlier days of him spending all of his time at Vic's for writing or in the studio, you had thought he'd run off with someone else. You woke up the next morning with him next to you, but that never really put that specific worry to rest.

"Romeo, Baby," you whispered to the silver tabby cat on your lap. He flicked his tail to let you know he heard you. "Dad's not home yet and I'm tired, we gotta go to bed. C'mon." Romeo only lifted his head to lay his grass green eyes on you once you stopped scratching his neck. You smiled to him, though his eyes didn't return it. "You've got half a minute before I move your furry tush."

To no one's surprise, Romeo took more than half a minute so you picked him up like a baby over your shoulder. Your palm cradled his soft feet. Like the lazy cat he was, Romeo fell back asleep on your shoulder on your short walk to your bedroom that you shared with the one and only, Damiano. He used to be a god to you, but now he was basically a roommate who you shared a kiss with every once in a while.

With Romeo asleep on the bed before you finished putting on pyjamas, you slunk off to brush your teeth. The door unlocked. Your heavy eyes cast unto the clock on the wall which read nearly half midnight.

Damiano came in like a whisper in the wind, save for the closet opening so he could deposit his coat. Shaking you head, you just finished brushing your teeth. Your mouth felt dry even though you'd just rinsed it with water.

"Cara mia," Damiano purred once his eyes caught your figure in the lamp light from the bedroom. You smiled at him and went into the bedroom to curl up with your cat and go to sleep. You had work in the morning and customers didn't appreciate workers who look like sleep-deprived zombies.

This was the first time in a long time that you didn't immediately greet him once he came through the door. So Damiano could sense a shift in the mood of the flat; really, he felt it as soon as he walked in and smelt chocolate and strong tea.

His footsteps never gave away where he was, but you could feel his presence enter the room. The bed dipped on the end just as Romeo curled further into you. When Damiano's hand held your ankle, Romeo let out a soft meow.

"What's wrong, Amore?"

"Did you forget or did you do it on purpose?" You immediately sat up as you asked the question. You were tired and to act like it was fine just wasn't in the cards tonight. Damiano's eyebrows drew together. You began to nod. "Movie night? You said you'd come home early to watch a film with us."

Damiano's face darkened in realization. You pursed your lip balm coated lips. Even Romeo could sense the tension and decided to stand up and sit square on your thighs, facing your boyfriend as if to protect you. Damiano looked to his hands which rested in his lap.

After a second, he said, "I-I thought that was tomorrow."

"Tonight was Tuesday night, now it's Wednesday morning," you muttered. Your fingers found the reassuring warmth of Romeo's fur once again and Romeo let out a rather sad sounding meow. "Oh, Romeo, don't worry. Dad just has to tell us he's sorry then we can sleep."

Both you and your cat looked to your boyfriend with tired but expectant eyes. Damiano's eyes never tore from his hands. Then it was like he was speaking to himself. "I was going to buy you flowers. And let you pick the film. And you were supposed to fall asleep on my shoulder, on the couch."

"It's okay, Dami, it's just a movie night," you told him. But your conscience caught you before you continued. Why the fuck were you reassuring him when he was the one who fucked up? Tell you that he'll be home in time for a sort of date night, then skip out. "We'll do it another night, it's all good."

"It's not all good, Y/n." One thing you could agree on tonight, though you'd never say that out loud. Finally, Damiano lifted his eyes from his soft hands. You noticed his eyes shimmer in the lamplight. "I really fucked up your night and for no good reason. I'm really sorry."

Leaning forward, you patted his arm. "Forgiven. We're adults and life gets in the way of romance."

"Not always, and not for us. I'm supposed to be the best boyfriend in the world but I've barely been a boyfriend to you at all lately, and I apologize." His words were stringing together faster in faster as he kept trying to keep his tears at bay. "It's just with the new album and everything, I'm finding out how shitty I am at balancing my life." Damiano came closer to you, holding your hand that once held his arm. "How can I make it up to you, Y/n? You're the love of my life and I don't want us to fizzle out."

For some reason, a little chuckle escaped your lips. His passion for you warmed your heart as you caught a glimpse of how you first had your heart captured by the man sitting before you. The light glittered in your eyes, for Damiano and Damiano alone. "We're not going to fizzle out over one missed movie night."

"Yes, but I've missed many of our nights, whether we made plans for them or not," Damiano rebutted. Your lips pressed together in a flat line. There was a certain ounce of truth to that statement. Damiano pressed a kiss to the back of your hand without maintaining eye contact. "Cara mia, nights are for the lovers, and I seem to have forgotten that."

His warm breath tickled the back of your hand just before his pressed more kisses to the back of your hand, then wrist, then fingers.

Sensing the warming room, Romeo left your lap. He threw you a final glance, seeming like he was making sure you didn't need him in the room to which you slightly nodded at the tabby. Romeo turned on his paws and left the room - leaving two starry-eyed partners who were still most ardently in love.

Without another word, you joined your lips with Damiano's. It had been a long while since a kiss such as this one had occurred. In the place of the usual passing kisses, this one made the love shared prominent. This kiss felt as if your Damiano was once again yours and totally yours; not as if he ever wasn't, but this was a much needed reminder of that.

Holding your face in his large hands, Damiano deepened the kiss by turning his head ever-so slightly. His tongue slid into your mouth with a passionate fervour. There was no battle for dominance, but a mutual exploration of each other's mouths.

Damiano tenderly laid you down against the pillows on your side of the bed, though his lips parted from yours which was an unhappy fate. "Do you want to go further, Cara mia? I know this doesn't equal forgiveness."

"I've never wanted anything more, Dami, my sweetest love," you promised him. Damiano smiled at your admission. He began to place gentle, loving kisses to your neck. "Only if you want to."

"Oh, trust me." Damiano nipped your collarbone, resulting in a yelp from you. You could feel his smirk against your warming skin. "I want to."

Damiano's bites roamed the skin of your chest that your tank top allowed, before you sat up to take it off. Your fingers found Damiano's soft hair as he left sloppy, wet kissed all over your now exposed chest. A bitten back moan escaped your mouth just as his tongue began to circle the tender skin of your nipple, making your back arch into the man above you.

This was an admission of your pleasure, so Damiano's mouth fully encircled your nipple as his hand that once caressed your hip, now cupped your other breast. His warm palm massaged you firmly, having Damiano's name fall from your lips. It had been a while since he'd touched you like this, with such care and attention. Every fiber of Damiano's being was now focused on making his love for you known.

When his warm mouth left your breast to be exposed to the chill of the room, his teeth grazed your sensitive nipple, having goosebumps multiply on your skin at a sky high rate. His mouth then was turned to your other breast as his other hand twisted and pinched the exposed nipple.

Your hands began trying to get his deep red shirt off, to bring his warmth to you. But before Damiano would let you have what you wanted most, he bit the sweet spot beneath your boob, no doubt leaving a mark that would be apparent the next day.

As Damiano leaned up to pull his shirt over his head, you nearly melted underneath him. His hair was already beginning to become delightfully fucked up and the look in his eye was absolutely dark. The look he gave you before joining your lips once again was full of love, accompanied by lust and desire. Damiano slid off his tight leather trousers while he was at it, allowing you to palm him through his briefs.

The kiss shared was now hungry and feverish. The nails of the unoccupied hand scratched down his back, resulting Damiano bucking his hips into your hand. You removed it, which finally gave you the glorious friction that you so completely craved. Damiano no doubt sensed this as he grabbed the back of your thigh as he continued to grind right into the thin layer that separated you both.

"Damiano, please," you nearly cried. The chuckle that came from Damiano was low and only made your panties become even more wet.

"Please what?"

"You know what I mean." He was killing you. Once the words left your lips, Damiano ground his hips into you again. "Fuck me. Fuck me, please. Please."

"See, was that so hard, Amore?" Damiano purred as he lowered the waistband of your pyjama bottoms. He threw them somewhere in the room before pressing his index finger against your clit. You tried to pull him in for a kiss, but Damiano resisted. "Ah, ah, I want to see just how much I effect you."

"You're the fucking-wow-devil himself."

Damiano's laugh bordered upon an evil one. "You love me."

"I love you, I love you so fucking much," you moaned. Damiano smiled as he lowered your grey panties. Those were discarded somewhere along with your pyjama bottoms, but you couldn't give half a fuck because Damiano's perfectly manicured finger found it's way inside of you. You bucked against his hand, making Damiano laugh.

His finger drew circles inside of you while his thumb still played with your clit. God, Damiano was so much better than your own fingers. Without a warning, another finger was added, making a sort of porn-esque moan leave you. Damiano groaned at the sound as well as the sight in front of him. Even his dreams of you weren't as good as this.

It wasn't as if he could help himself from leaning down once again and attaching his mouth to your erect nipple. Your eyes crossed at three parts of your body were on fire with immense pleasure. The flames of rapture enveloped most of your body, even your soul.

"I'm-m-m gonna cum," you cried out. Damiano smiled against your breast as his fingers began going faster. "No, no, let me cum on your cock." Damiano looked up at you with a bit of surprise. You'd never said something like that without prompt.

The needy look that painted your face was all Damiano had to see before he complied. His briefs were off in the blink of an eye and he began to pump himself just to prepare. Your legs were spread wide as you could already feel yourself drip onto the sheets below which made Damiano groan with barred teeth.

He lined himself up with your entrance and gave you one final questioning look. You nodded adamantly before he pushed himself through your folds.

Truly, you could feel your soul ascend as you remembered just how big he was. You big your lip so hard you nearly broke skin while Damiano hissed an intake of breath. He came down to your lips to taste your minty mouth just as his hips began rocking into you, first at a slow pace, then began to get closer.

Damiano's hips snapped into yours quickly, and the sound of smacking skin filled the room, along with the scent of sex and sweat. The combination of both of your moans filled each other's mouths. The bedroom was incredibly hot but somehow you were in a cold sweat, save for where your body joined with Damiano's in sweet harmony.

"Fuck, Y/n, you're so fucking tight," Damiano huffed. You clenched around his cock, only making Damiano cry out with pleasure. Your nails drew down his back, clinging him closer and closer to you with every thrust against your g-spot. Tears brimmed your eyes as a knot formed in the lower part of your stomach.

"Soon, I'm cumming soon."

"Cum on my cock, Baby, just like you want."

You could tell his thrusts were getting sloppy because he was closing in on his release as well. But you couldn't help but cum first as the knot suddenly exploded within you.

Your walls spasmed against Damiano as your release washed over you. Your legs tingled and your toes went a bit numb. Damiano then hit in you a few more times before his own seed seeped into you. It was warm and you felt incredibly full as Damiano stayed within you for an extra few seconds, before falling next to you.

"I know you said this wouldn't equal forgiveness but I'm feeling very forgiving," you sighed. Damiano chuckled and looked over at you. Your skin glowed in orgasmic radiance and your hair was completely fucked out. Damiano's heart swelled at the sight and he couldn't help but kiss you again.

He cleaned you both up after, with a warm wash cloth, and got you new pyjamas. Romeo reentered the room once the sex smell was gone and you were in Damiano's arms once again. Your cat curled between both of you in the dead of night, like the beginnings of a family.

Damiano came home Wednesday afternoon with a massive bouquet that must have cost a pretty pence, a box of Belgian chocolate and a bag of cat treats. It seemed a movie night was in order.

#damiano #damiano david #damiano x reader #damiano david fanfiction #damiano david x reader #damiano maneskin #maneskin fanfiction #maneskin #måneskin #smut #x reader

[deadmomjokes]

Please yell so much about batman

Okay so first off, I am LOVE. I love my mentally unwell disaster child, but more than that, I love that they actually gave us a mentally unwell disaster Bruce. Because my #1 complaint about Batman, especially movie iterations, is "When does he sleep?" This addresses that: he's literally a nocturnal shut-in. He's pale af from never seeing the sun, which probably doesn't help the depression because his Vitamin D levels must be lower than mine. For most people with an average circadian rhythm, day sleep is not nearly as refreshing or useful as night sleep (it literally takes a special breed to do night shift and not Suffer). So he goes out, gets beat to crap and beats several dozen people to crap, comes home, spends hours logging the night's activities, then sleeps all day. Absolute dumpster fire of a life, and I'm SO proud they address that. Because a nice, healthy Bruce/Bat Balance is something we see from a mature, seasoned Batman. This is year 2 for our Bruce, and he's just all in on the Batman thing. Which, of course, begs the question, "What kind of person does that?" The answer is, "Someone very, very Not Okay."

Let's be real: no sane, stable, well-adjusted, healthy person decides one day, "I'm going to risk my life and legal freedom to go out and be both a detective and a vigilante, while dressed as a giant bat." Bruce is very explicitly none of those things in this movie. He's visibly sleep deprived, he can't make eye contact, he has no idea how to act around human beings, can't hold a conversation, he looks viscerally uncomfortable just existing in his own body, is always Too Still, doesn't blink enough, and hyperfixates so hard it may actually be killing him. He pours everything into Batman, to the point that you get the impression that he feels like Batman is the real person, and Bruce is the construct. He's incredibly unstable and unwell. He is Consumed, and they don't shy away from showing that that's not a good thing.

They also show exactly how bizarre Batman as a concept and person is. He's so surreal and uncanny compared to the legitimate detectives and average people he's Looming around, and everyone is visibly and understandably unnerved by him. He looks about 3 seconds from snapping at any given moment, but in the still, laser-focused way of a big cat or snake. He's either freakishly still, or all brutal motion, and you never know which you're about to get. I finally understand why criminals see the Bat Signal and high-tail it out. They did such a good job of showing us that side of The Bat-- an urban legend horror story, possibly a cryptid, who at the very least is Not A Normal Human Being.

I was so refreshed by how real and grounded everything felt. In a superhero movie, it's easy to get swept up in so much suspension of disbelief, it stops having any real meaning to you as a person. But this was a viscerally real city, with real people, and real issues. Set design was on point, man. That's my Gotham right there.

Also, the sound design! Not just the music, which was PHENOMENAL (bangin' as always Michael), but the use of sound. Foley artists absolutely killing it!! The use of the bootsteps to herald Batman's arrival and underscore how eerie and deliberate every motion is. The tiny little creaks and shuffles of the leather suit, again underscoring the extremely subtle motions he makes. The breath effects for when we're in Riddler's perspective. All the gritty little details of a dirty, crowded city-- nothing was silent, which is just how it should have been!

And holy crap it was SO GORGEOUS. The color! The use of light and, more accurately, shadow! The hallway muzzle-flare-strobe-effect fight! They spared no detail, and some of the shots legit gave me chills. And, of course, at its most basic it did its job with telling us the story and enhancing our understanding of the characters and their inner workings, but it did so in such a thoughtful, deliberate way, that's an essay for another time. But it is for sure on the way.

I have way more feelings and Thoughts about this, so I'll put them in another post below a cut for spoilers because I have GOT to talk about the visual symbolism, theme/thesis, and overall story commentary. So stay tuned, much more yelling to come (probably tomorrow because I done jacked up my neck somehow and typing position is not a great one to be in atm).

But yeah, conclusion part 1: THE BATMAN YES

#the batman #batman 2022 #battinson

[blzzrdstryr]

Hello ! May I request a yan scaramouche x fatui harbinger reader? This is my first time sending a request, so I'm not sure what else to add..

I thought about answering this with headcanons only, but I like your idea enough, so my brain blurted out a small drabble to accompany them.

Yandere!Scaramouche x fatui harbinger!gn!reader

Scaramouche isn’t a type of person that is easy to please, as he can find fault in almost anything or anyone within a couple of minutes, a contemptuous scowl taking it’s usual place on his face. He dislikes his subordinates - they are stupid and slow and never get his orders right, despite how simple his commands are. He loathes ordinary people - they idle around and get in the way of his business. And, of course, he despises his colleagues - they're crazy and annoying bunch, starting from the battle obsessed ginger idiot and ending with just straight up insane scientist who likes to play god on other fatui underlings.

Not counting you, of course.

You see, there is always some exception from the rule, divergence from the median, unnatural anomaly, you.

It was hard at first, to comprehend that he actually liked you. He felt this weird warmth blooming in his chest as he looked at you, cheeks furiously heating up, and his eyes were searching for your face, and especially your lips, every time you had a meeting together. Every single time.

All it took for him to finally realize his feelings for you was some half serious comment from Childe, the moron joked that Scaramouche looked like a longing maiden, at which the shorter man snapped back with a couple of barbed insults that no doubt hurt Tartaglia’s ego.

Despite understanding his sentiments now, it didn’t make life easier in the slightest sense. On the contrary, Scaramouche was now aware how much in love he was with you - he was annoyed with himself for the first three weeks - and how much power you had over him.

It is frightening to know that he allowed himself to be ruled by his feelings alone like some foolish teen having a first crush. You reduced a great Harbinger to some love obsessed idiot. Scaramouche started to catch himself how hard it is to just stop staring at your form, devouring your face, legs and form with eyes alone, or how angry he gets once anyone other than him talks to you, be it other Harbingers, your underlings or even Tsaritsa herself.

Sometimes a desperate thought makes its way into his mind - to lock you up and hide from the whole world, to be the only person to touch, smell, taste and see you, to be the only one blessed to witness your beauty and hear your voice. Silly notion reappears in his head with a concerning frequency, and he sometimes even entertains it, consumed by his imagination for a far longer time that is healthy

Nonetheless, Scaramouche always has to discard the idea - it is a mad, perverse and unobtainable image - no matter how much he lusts after you and pictures you all good and docile just for him, you are still a Harbinger, his equal in everything, including the power. If only you were some underling or even civilian, then he wouldn’t need to feign indifference in your presence, or stop some of his less than pleasant urges. He could just snatch you and chain you, train to be a good little toy just for him, happy to serve it’s master and owner.

Oh how sweet you would moan and beg under him, how much you would do to please him. Scaramouche could break you and rebuild from scratch, make sure that there is nothing but him in your pretty head, match his obsession with you with a love he would force you to learn. He could be your god and the world, replace everything in your life with his presence alone. Sadly, there’s no way Scaramouche can get away with this when you are his equal.

Fortunately for him, there are ways fatuis even as high and mighty as Harbingers can still lose their title. The easiest one is to disappoint Tsaritsa - fail enough tasks, mess up significant missions or cause an international conflict, you pick it.

It’s a traitorous and dangerous thought - sabotage of the fellow harbinger, something that would prompt his own demotion or even dismissal if someone got wind of what he plans. But, Scaramouche muses, it’s also a game worth playing - he can lose everything if he fails, but he’ll get you if he wins. He just needs to trick you to ruin your reputation and attract the ire of the cryo archon.

“Hello”, he says, approaching you after the usual harbinger gathering, a fake smile plastered on his face: “I want to help you with that mission Tsaritsa gave you”.

You look at him with an unreadable gaze, brows furrowed in contemplation: “Why would you offer your help?”

“I don’t want Tsaritsa or Fatui to be at a disadvantage, this task is really hard. I am not questioning Tsaritsa’s judgement, but Qixing started to be really suspicious of us, especially after that idiot, Tartaglia, almost drowned the whole city”. He tries to keep his usual slightly annoyed, slightly angered manner of talking, hoping that you won’t question him.

It works - “All right”, you nod offering an intel spies have collected, and start introducing him to what you plan to do. He intently listens, feeling how his fake smile grows into a genuine one.

Headcanons

Scaramouche is smitten - his eyes trail you, he takes your every word like a holy scripture, he gets so flustered when you just look his way, yet he never shows it to you, a bored facade appearing every time you pay him even a gram of attention.

You, most likely, won't even be aware of his crush growing into obsession - Scaramouche is a skilled actor, capable of showing thousands of different emotions seconds, effortlessly switching between the masks.

Despite the gentle feelings he has fpr, Scaramouche also possesses much darker urges that he doesn't want to stop.

He is very possessive, getting angry every time you talk with anyone other than him.

He likes to picture you obedient and docile, worshipping him like a God. He thinks he deserves it.

The balance in the power between you two is something that really bothers him - he wants you to be completely dependent on him, vulnerable before any wish and perversion he could subject you to.

Will try to sabotage you as a harbinger in hopes that you lose your title and power.

If you somehow remain infallible to his schemes and plans he will try to actually befriend you.

It's an arduous task, none of the harbingers really like each other enough to build such intimate connections, and both you and Scaramouche know it.

If you have a lesser rank than him, he will try to come off as a well meaning senior. If he is the one with a lesser title, then he will feign ignorance and ask for assistance.

All in all, your fate depends on how smart and cautious you are around Scaramouche. If you are perceptive enough he will have to face one defeat after the other, lessenning his resolve.

Don't think that it will be enough to stop him from trying, though.

#Yandere Scaramouche x reader #Yandere Scaramouche #Yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere x reader #yandere #Scaramouche #Yandere genshin #Yandere genshin x reader #I see a little silhouetto of a man #my writing

[cornacopicimagines]

A Rose Blooms │t.h

pairing: prince!tom holland x princess!reader

words: 8.4k (WHOOPS)

warnings: arranged marriage, SMUT (we been knew), slight praise kink and 10000% breeding kink, therefore unprotected sex, swearing, slight cockwarming & good lord there is so much

summary: Perhaps God does have a sick sense of humour. To allow such misguided souls to one another. Souls that shouldn't be allowed to feel the sense of happiness he can provide, that should accept their dire situations. The Prince of Wales and his new bride can attest to the quite well. 

a/n: what do y'all mean a historical prince au!tom holland with major smut and breeding kink is not a thing. i know the sluts want it, even if they never ask for it. i must provide it.

masterlist

━━★✼☆｡

y/n of Burgundy was a splendid piece of artwork. A sweet and humble French Princess with a huge dowry and a bright future. It was as if DaVinci had casted the girl from Venus's shadow and gifted the baby to displeased parents. Parents who so wished for a boy, that the arrival of a healthy girl is so overlooked that the girl is better off dead. The sadness is heard across not only France but the entirety of Europe. Poor y/n of Burgundy! The Unlucky Princess of Burgundy! It's all she hears; she is deemed a tragedy before her life is even written. Perhaps that is her greatest misdeed in this life, that because she is born the wrong sex to what is expected she is casted to the side as a woman destined for slight and anguish for her entire life. Even if this is the case, y/n wished to think of herself as unwritten for the moment being. A woman waiting for a calling no matter how big or small. A woman who's only current wish to sit atop this windowsill, letting the cool September French breeze kiss her flushed cheeks. Alas, even this is stripped from her.

"Get off the window, y/n!" her mother's shrill voice shrieks as The Duchess yanks y/n to the floor. It's harsh and frantic, as if an arrow is to fly through and hit her. Her tightly coiled chest hit's the wooden floor hard. It knocks the only wind y/n really has left, a wasteful shame.

"I am sorry mama," y/n responds quietly, her hands desperately pat to find a piece of wood that will not cut up into her as she attempts to regain her balance. Though her room is filled with four maids not a single one offers their own hand to help her. She knows it is because of her mother's cowl. If they dare so move in a direction towards her, The Duchess will become a Fury of Hell himself.

"The breeze is so sweet at this time of afternoon." Finally, y/n does place her feet back on the floor with a small clack of her heels. She takes a moment to take in the state of her gown. While she has countless others, something about the pure white of the satin being destroyed by the inevitable dust that has collected is disheartening even to her. The pattern of bright red roses now looks more of a dull blood grey than a true flower.

"The breeze is something so frivolous my dear," The Duchess is suddenly content with her surroundings. "Busy yourself with something more intelligent, it makes for a much better bride." 

"Thank you for the wise advice mother," y/n snaps, her fingers gripping the ruined material of her gown. "I'll be sure to not engage myself in something that gives me the slightest bit of freedom in the lifeless castle," it was no louder than a whisper. Her braided hair still muffling the sounds.

As if her words seemed to not even reach her, The Duchess mumbles in agreement before taking her leave. The door shutting loudly behind her, the air was finally safe to breathe. The maids immediately begin to swarm her. Like flies to honey; they grapple her, prod at her and pinch her. It was too much. It was as if a million ants had swarmed her body, nipping at any piece of flesh they could just because it was what they were meant to do. An instinctive need to draw more blood than necessary, it was overwhelming. They inspected her perfectly capable hands, wondering if their incompetence has cost them their heads because y/n of Brittany split her blood and The Duchess refused to let them help. She was suffocating.

She didn't mean for it to slip, it just did. Her voice raised, "Get out." It was softer at first. "Get out," they still didn't move, still abusing her. "I said get out!" Everything stopped for a moment, the air her mother had ensued had now come back. The maids all took a single step away from her. y/n felt the tears threaten her, warning by dancing across her lower lashes. "Do none of you listen, get out for Christ’s sake!" That's all it took, in a matter of seconds y/n was finally alone. She could hear the faint song of the trees whispering to her, it was calm, but she couldn't appreciate it. She dropped to her knees and began to softly weep into her palms. The groans muffled by the skin of her hands and the tears halted from falling by her fingers. In this moment and forever ahead of her, she was desolate.

But like all things, even this bleak minute of sorrow was cut to an end by the deafening sound of her father's boots storming down the hallways towards her room.

━━★✼☆｡

Tom spectated as the pole shattered into a thousand pieces. The splinters hitting ever edge of the arena. He watched as the knight fell limp and as his horse rode on through the chaos. The young prince roared out of his seat, his knees hitting the harsh wood of the royal box. His name echoed on the young knight's medallion above his breast. He had picked the winning side and rightfully so, Sir Harrison had never been defeated. For a moment, Tom turned around to face his beaming mother. A woman who loved the games, Tom always relied on his mother to accompany him to these festivities but his father. The Prince would always ask graciously but was refused every time. Constantly belittled for the consul of old men with a working cock between them, it was a joke. The King had many failed efforts to rile the English people to cause, Tom had offered a large gathering to help inspire the people. The King told his son this would cause nothing but useless panic and many painful deaths. Scoffing, Tom waltzed back to his seat. It was uncomfortable, it felt as if ants hand made their nets below the seat's support. He wished to ride alongside them.

"You cannot and you will not," The Queen smiled at him, waving to squires as they led the horses away. Tom's head swivelled around to meet his mother's. "I refuse it my son."

"I had said nothing mother," Tom replied quietly, he too doing his duty to the lower noble men who had come out today. Each one sweatier than the last. "Perhaps you are hearing things, 10 childbirths can change a woman's mind," Tom stifled a laugh, too which he received a slap on the arm for.

"Don't play smart with me son," The Queen spoke coolly, her countless rings clanged as she rose from her seat. Tom followed suit, allowing a hand for his now middle-aged mother for gracious help down the impossibly large stairs. "I almost lost your father to one of these silly little cock shows, I will not go through it with you my boy."

Tom raised an eyebrow, watching his mother's golden trim become bleaker by the stain of the grass. "I had half a mind to believe you enjoyed these silly little cock shows," Tom played. The Queen peered up at his through hooded lids. It was dangerous waters even for him, a man who has seen the blood of war. He allowed his mother and her ladies to return to Windsor, watching as if to wait for the shark to disappear.

"Your Royal Highness, if I may have a word," a soft voice called out from below the podium. Tom paced to the edge and stared down. Constance, he thought to himself as he smiled wickedly. She was a short and mildly plump woman, with wild unruly hair that had to be constantly shoved out of her face. He remembers her name because of how sweet his name sounded dripping from her tongue. Countless nights spent in the throes of passion, wearing moonlight as cloth. Tom knew he had dishonoured her just by bedding her, but he couldn't help himself. She was the first woman who really took an interest in him. Still, he had to come to her aid on multiple occasions. While he likes the way, she grips at his biceps, he however, doesn't like when her father comes storming into court demanding his daughter's honour back because Tom had prayed on her. Perhaps, it was the odd lack of ladies that would flock to his side or maybe it was simply because he wanted a little bit of fun before the inevitable. 

"You may, my Lady," Tom smiled widely making his way to her side. He could tell the mud was ruining the polished leather of his boots, he completely forgot about his favourite riding boots he had put on in hopes that he may indulge himself in the sports. Still, he pushed the though deep down at met her eyes. He not an unusually tall man but the way he almost dwarfed her was delectable. As he watched her squirm, he wondered as to why she would speak with him where anyone could see. There was no danger for him, but the world's eyes were on her.

She played with the small ring on her pinkie finger, riding it up and down the skin. "Why did you not tell me," she whispered, refusing to look up at him. Tears began to well.

"What on earth do you mean?" He queered, genuinely curious as to what had got her all worked up. His hands went to stroke her cheek gently, but she abruptly pulled away from him. This time her eyes did meet his, the salty liquid glossed over her eyes.

"It is bad enough that I am called the Prince's Whore but now they are cursing my name because I have ruined the royal couple!" she cried out, her deep green dress swallowing the mud below. "That a stupid maid slut has stolen you away from the beautiful French Princess!"

Tom saw nothing but red. Not because of Constance but because of what she said to him. He had begged his parents to let him choose his own wife. If he was to rule England after his father's passing, he wished to at least have a woman whom he truly loved by his side. He said nothing to her as he stormed away. The small drizzle of rain hitting his skin as he picked up his speed. He knew that his father was in a council meeting alongside his mother. Perfect opportunity to unleash his rage. He faintly heard her calling after him, that was muffled by the buzzing in his ears.

He had been told who he was meant to be and what he was meant to be from the moment he was born. Hardly ever seeing his mother or younger brothers because he was eldest, never knowing true companionship because he would be constantly cooped up listening to his advisors and tutors as they taught him the art of war and foreign policies. This was his one chance to spend his life with a woman who understood him and would grow a loving family much in contrast to what he had.

His hands pushed the heavy wooden doors, they hit the walls with a large smack. The entire council stood for the Prince, with the exception of his mother and sickly father. He walked past them with ease and took his seat at the opposite end of table. His eyes focused solely on his father as he absently noted the appearance of his son.

"Wonderful of you to finally join us," The Duke of Essex smiled weakly, in any attempt to deflect the tension elsewhere.

"When were you going to tell me?" Tom spoke, his voice barely above a whisper and laced with venom. His elbows digging into the cool wood of granite of the table. He watched his father finally face him; the man was a wreck. His greying hair stuck to his hair with copious amounts of sweat, his brown eyes had sunk deadly back into the sockets and his skin was pale and filled with wrinkles. "When were you going to tell me father?"

"You were spending too much time with that scullery maid," The King respond calmly, still flipping through royal documents. Tom was on the verge of an explosion. If the Prince was known for something, it was his anger. Much like Mount Vesuvius, he didn't get angry often, he hated how it affect those around him. The times he is pushed to the breaking point however, he was destroy everything in his path. "We had to put an end to it."

"We?" Tom pushed.

"Your mother made the arrangements; she is being brought here as we speak." Once more, the King had no interest with the devastated look on the Prince's face. Too caught up in an attempt to stile a cough.

"You promised me my own choice of bride," Tom seethed. He faced his mother, if the King wouldn't listen perhaps the Queen would.

His mother sighed; the silk of her sleeves draped over the arms of the chair. "That was before you had instinctively made the choice, we hoped that perhaps you would have fallen for the daughter of a Duke or at worst an Earl. You were going to marry that girl, after everything her family has done against the court. We couldn't allow it."

Tom jaw clicked. "Who is she?" He was done arguing, done protesting.

"You'll marry the granddaughter of the French King; y/n of Burgundy," his father spoke up before his mother could sugar coat it. "The family sent a portrait of the girl as the first payment of her dowry; it has already been placed in your room. Hopefully, you can find the slightest bit of attraction for your new bride before the wedding."

"Will I get to meet her beforehand?" He at least hoped to see the girl with his own eyes before calling her his wife. Finally, the King met his eyes. He dropped the quill on the desk as locked his eyes, leaning towards him.

"Did you really think you'd get that luxury?"

━━★✼☆｡

The sea breeze prickled at y/n skin as she sat atop the deck. She could tell they were getting closer. The wind went from a soft tone to a howling scream, something her great aunt had told her all about. English weather could go from a perfect sunny day to god's worst mood. In all honesty, she preferred it to French. It was wild and unpredictable, something she so desperately needed.

She remembered how she got into this predicament as she lay down a 9 ace on the table. Waiting for the ship to land.

"You'll leave tomorrow, it will take you a good couple of days to get there." Her father exclaimed, picking a raspberry from the plate and eating the sweet fruit. y/n stood in silence, still reeling her tears back into her eyes. She refused to weep in front of the Duke. She moved around the large room, in order to hear his words. "You'll make a fine queen," he smiled, placing his hands atop her cheeks. y/n smiled warmly before raising a concern.

"How do you know this will be different than the last?" she asked quietly, staring down at her shoes. Her father sighs before picked his coat up from the chair.

y/n placed her bets, her hand is exquisite. Three queen and a pair of Kings. If she doesn't win, it's as if God is going against her. The men that sit beside her raise their brows in confusion. She's not backing down.

"Because, you know their language and their culture from Great Aunt Mary. You were her favourite after all," her father tells her, the memory of the old lady teaching her English brings a curve to her lips. That was not the answer she was looking for, however. Her father knows it as well, he knows the answer she wants but he cannot give it to her. "Trust me pumpkin," the endearment is wonderful. Unlike her mother, y/n's father has always been kind to her. She doesn't know if it because she is his eldest daughter or because her brother is a lousy boy and she is the only child with a head still attached to her shoulder blades.

She releases her tension; she knows whatever comes out of this she must go along with it. She must accept whatever situation is handed to her and accept her duty as a future queen and mother to the English Throne.

y/n squeals, her hand's won. The rest of the chips are placed in her corner, she is asking if they want to go another round but instead, they all huff and walk away from her. y/n feels her heart sink into her stomach. Perhaps the English wind has turned their moods sour. Soon enough her worries are washed away as the boat docks into Brighton and y/n hears the cheers for her. She can't exactly make out what they are saying. Sadly, she doesn't get a chance to even greet her new subjects as her new English ladies are gently pushing her towards the carriage. The only thing she can do is wave and smile at them, hoping to instil a fraction of hope for the new royal couple. As she steps into the carriage, a huge white dress follows her. The abundance of ladies and herself are stuck in the cramped space for a little over an hour before they start agreeing to change her dress into the one being coddled.

"Why? This is dress is perfect as it is," y/n laughed gently, her fingers playing with the pearls that lace the neckline.

"Forgive me, my lady, but His Majesty; The King has requested that you wear a white gown." One of the younger girls pipes up. Sighing, y/n nods her head to agree and goes to stop the carriage.

While they don't completely undress her, she knows that the smock under her dress is shear and leave nothing to the imagination. Quickly they strip her of the current dress, even unlacing the corset before adding another one. As they place the soft silk of her veil over her head, she can hear the ringing bells at Westminster. It hasn't completely dawned on her what she is exactly going through. Marrying a man she has never met. Marrying a man for all she knows could be a tyrant. She's heard quite a few English Monarchs fall under that said category. Her heart started to jump now; she could fell the beat thump against her vocal box.

The people began to line the city. Countless bodies waved at her as she strolled through the city of London. The abbey somehow seemed ten times bigger in person. White rose petals fell through the air as the coachman opened the door for her. The walkway was paved with red velvet. Her heels felt as though she was ruining the beautiful material as she walked.

Tom can physically hear her pounding heartbeat from where he stands. He can't exactly make out her face, but he can see the white gown strutting towards him. It's the same patterns as the dress his mother wore more than 20 years ago. He's seen it in countless paintings, his mother scowling as she attempts to salvage any positive thing out of such tremendous pain. Harrison lays a hand on his shoulder; the contact makes him jump.

"I heard she looks like a siren," he joked, dusting a small particle of fluff off Tom's shoulder. "Perhaps she'll sound like one too," the comment was enough to grant the knight a hard whack on his arm from the Prince. He truly did wonder if she would as beautiful as the painting which depicted her. A small red rose for his house in her fingertips as she grinned softly. It was as if she was staring into his soul.

Tom reached out to allow her aid in getting up the stairs. She graciously accepted muttering a small thank you as her other hand lifted the countless layers of fabric to mend her steps. Her touch was soft, something he wasn't used to. The gentle touch of a noble woman, even if it was only upon his fingers. The entirety of Westminster Abbey went silent as the faced each other.

y/n could barely hear anything over her rampant anxiety. Though she was eased slightly as she blindly grasped at his fingers, she was afraid she gripped a little too tightly. Finally, she stood in front of him. The gown dipping down the stairs to end in her ladies' hands. She wondered what she looked like to him. Wondering if it was a glorious sight to witness a new bride waltzing towards him. Or if it was one of dread, to be in holy matrimony with someone you've just met for the first time. She's still trying to decide between the two.

The ceremony was beautiful. A simply yet elegant affair, as two young royals wed. She knows that she is marrying the Prince of Wales, a worthy husband for any noble woman. Yet she can't help the dread that builds as the Archbishop drones on. The hymns falling deaf ears. She tries to pay attention, but she can’t, all she can hear is the drumming of her heartbeat. It pounds against her ribs, creating echoes in her head. Before she knows it, his hands reach for hers. There was no strength in his grip unlike beforehand, it was soft and gentle. As if she was a beautiful yet delicate doll, that she would completely shatter if he pressed just that bit too hard. Their fingertips locked; her skin fell into the ridges of his knuckles.

“I proclaim thee, y/n of Burgundy to be my lawfully wedded wife from now until the end of my days,” he hesitated. She could hear it in his voice. “She shall sit beside me as I rule the kingdom.” The ring passes down her skin, the metal biting at her finger.

She repeats him. “I proclaim thee, Thomas – Prince of Wales to be my lawfully wedded husband from now until the end of my days. I shall sit beside him as he rules this beautiful country.” She smiles at the end, though she never intends to. y/n thanks her ladies that they cover her grinning face behind the thick white lace of her veil.

The entirety of Westminster Abbey is silent, no one dares even breathe as Prince Thomas coils his fingers around the tipping of the lace. He lifts it over his now wife’s face. He taken aback slightly. The painter wasn’t paid enough, clearly. She was even more beautiful standing in front of him. The same clear complexion now glistening in the soft sunlight of England. He doesn’t pry of course; it would be rude of him. Just to stare at his bride, as if they were the only people in the hall. Good lord, does he wish it was.

His hands reach her cheeks. Tender once more, he brings her forward. She shifts on her feet as they meet. A quaint and soft kiss, unlike anything either of them has felt ever. He can’t remember the last time, it was this – well, gentle. Thomas doubts he has ever kissed a woman of such luxury in his entire life up to this point. y/n is the first to pull away, her fingers resting lightly on his raised wrists. Their eyes meet for a moment, a short moment.

Westminster Abbey erupts into celebration. Red rose petals fall from the ceiling and music begins to flood the area.

As she stared around, y/n began to think to herself. I do not know what will come out of this, but I already can see that joy my presence brings to these people. I shall not let them down.

Prince Thomas of England, Heir to The English Throne and y/n of Burgundy, Granddaughter of The French King had been wed. They were now locked in holy matrimony, a feeling unlike any other. Both horrendous and hospitable.

━━★✼☆｡

The Hall is a grand party. Laughing and singing is heard from every corner, mugs of beer and wine are flung across tables and scraps of food are being thrown to the dogs. y/n has never seen such a scene unfold. Too contained by the prudish French court. The most scandalous thing she has seen is a risqué dance meant to be for a married lover.

That is what she always despised about the French Nobility. Their secrets. Whispers and Rumours spread faster than fire. If you had committed some heinous act, the entirety of France will hear about it by the end of the week. Perhaps that is another reason why she felt so trapped in Burgundy. y/n could never do a single task on her own before her ladies’ loose tongue would find their way back to her mother. A delicate little flower, such a waste of potential.

Tom noticed her prodding, her fork twirling the few peas left on her plate. He hadn’t said a word to her all night and yet he looks at her if she’s unwillingly to speak. Does she know any basic English? Perhaps not.

“How are you liking the food,” Tom asked her, leaning into her. She smiled up at him, he spoke to her in French. It made her heart swell for a second. y/n turns to face him, smiling warmly. Tom wishes he could keep that smile forever.

“It’s is very well Your Grace,” y/n replies to him. Her flawless English rolling off her tongue with a petite French accent. It’s like heaven to his ears and he’s taken aback. “My Great Aunt was an English Countess, I loved her very much. I was fluent in English before I was 8.” She explained, almost as if she had read his mind.

“You need not call me Your Grace,” he teased, it was somewhat natural for him.

“Then what shall I call you?” y/n queered.

“I am your husband now, whatever pleases you pleases me,” Tom replied, turning back to his empty plate in an effort to hide the rising red flush on his face. y/n knew she should leave it at that, so she turned her attention elsewhere.

“Are royal weddings usually this,” she paused, “loud?”

Tom laughed quietly, he too turned to face the ruckus crowd. Men laying in the laps of maids, dogs feasting over food that had been flung across the floor. Loud chants to the beat of the music filled the hall. He would have been completely embarrassed by the state of his people in front of his new bride, if he hadn’t seen the amused look on her face. “Not usually, I have only been to one other wedding and that was extremely sombre.”

“How so?” she asked, sipping from the freshly poured wine.

“I went to my uncle’s wedding a few months ago. He had also married a noble woman like yourself, but the poor thing was only 11. My uncle was 35 and counting.” He wishes it was different but like all things in this world, he is powerless to the wills of those who think they are higher than others.

He peered at her; y/n was already looking at him. An eyebrow and a lip raised in disgust. It was quaint.

“I wish I could be more repulsed by that,” Tom wondered if she was joking or if she was serious. He couldn’t tell just by the use of her tone. He did however note her wit. Something he so longed for. They talked for hours, sitting by one another and discussing anything that arrived at the conversation. Tom can’t decide whether it’s her honey-like voice or her banter but it’s making him feel things no one should for someone they are being forced to wed.

Just while they are comparing the contrasting jousting techniques, the joyful music suddenly stops. It’s a quick snap and the entire hall is now dead quiet. The Earl of Salisbury mounts himself on one of the tables. His cheeks red with drunkenness.

The Earl points directly at y/n and Tom as they sit in confusion. “The final tradition, an honour for any noble man. The Great Bedding!”

y/n turns to Tom, clinging slightly to his sleeve. He takes immediate notice. “Thomas, what is The Great Bedding?” There was great concern in her voice as she watched all of the men rush towards them. He didn’t get to answer as the women abruptly hauled him out of his seat and down the hall, away from her.

y/n didn’t fear too well either. At least a dozen grimy hands placed themselves all over her body, pulling harshly as they brought her into the air. Dancing her down the halls. She constantly whacked their hands, to no avail of course. They only dropped her once they got to a dimly lit room.

It was already buzzing with people. Hustling around a single bed, covered by finely woven silk. The men dropped her gently, placing her feet against the ground. y/n tried to turn around to give them a piece of her mind but was stopped as her corset began to become loose around her waist. Incredibly uncomfortable, y/n looked up to distract herself in any regard and found Tom at the other side. The maid’s hands undoing every buckle of his coat, tiny fingers unthreading the lavish ropes across his body. y/n blushed at the sight.

Tom was trying his hardest not to look at her, not to stare as countless men of the court undressing her. He could hear the bulky wedding dress hit the floor of the room, he could feel her eyes on him, and he could see the variety of unknown nobles swarming them in any hopes to achieve the right to gossip tomorrow morning. It was despicable.

He climbed in first, the cotton of the blankets itching his skin as he settled. The only comfort he found was in the softness in his unkempt hair. Not restricted by the gel he was forced to wear.

y/n slowly followed his lead, it was dead silent. No one dared breathed as the new Princess of Wales found her spot next to The Prince. All the while, the exact same priest Archbishop chanted away, and priests flung holy water at the bed. Some of the liquid found itself on her skin. Finally, the crowd bowed to the couple and began to take their leave.

Tom watched in peace; he would be alone. He closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh, perhaps he would be able to get some well needed sleep. That seemed achievable until he felt a cold grasp around his wrist. His eyes shot open to find his father’s glare directly at him. “Don’t let the spring pass, I hope to see a grandson in the next few months,” The King spat.

It had been hours since the quarry of guests had left the room but the the monarch’s words etched themselves into his mind. Echoing nonstop, getting wilder as Tom felt y/n settle herself next to him. The mere presence of her alongside the duty he had to fulfil was too much for him. Tom shot up and quickly gathered his things, hauling his boots and clothes. He couldn’t be near her for another moment, too afraid of what he might do if she was subject to this sort of cruel punishment. Tom quickly decided he was sleep next door, just far away to have the thoughts no longer plague his mind but not too far that he would impose the wrong meaning on her. He reached for the door when she chimed in.

“Where are you going?”

He halted instantly. He wished that they could have gotten along like most royal couples should. A cold and initially distant meeting, then hopefully something would blossom over the years. Instead they had gotten along quite well, too well in fact. He was used to going slowly, taking his time in bedding a girl. A constant glaze over the court every few days, then promiscuous banter and in the span of months he would have her melt in his hand with a simple word. Now, he was feeling flustered and out of control and all of it was happening over a single night. Tom pressed his forehead against the wood, taking a deep breath. He turned to look at her, just like a painting coming to life. Her hair was down, unlike anything he had ever seen. Not grimed with sweat and dirt nor was it pinned underneath a headdress or away from her face. This time, the soft curls framed it. The nightgown clung to her shoulders; the fabric dangerously close to falling off. It made his life that much more difficult.

“I am sorry. You are a beautiful woman, but I just cannot fulfil the expectations that are placed upon me tonight. I will be sleeping in the room next door if you need me,” Tom blurted out. He waited for a response before he could speed out. She sat there, like a perfectly sculpted statue. It was torture.

y/n sighed, “nothing has to happen tonight.”

“But they will ask, they will pry like they always will,” he countered.

“Who says we have to tell the truth?” y/n giggled. God, it was a symphony to him. Tom watched her leave the bed, waltzing around to meet with him at the door. He wanted the tell her to stay exactly where she is, not to move even an inch closer but with ever step she took, his breath hitched higher in his throat. “I would prefer to spend the first night of my marriage with my husband, whether something happens or not.”

He swallowed thickly, “you are incredibly calm.” He now met her, his full attention on y/n as she chuckled in delight.

“I am filled to the brim with anxiety, just not that same fear that you are feeling,” she told him as she sat down the small longue in the middle of the room. She took the wine from the table and poured each of them a glass. Tom was hesitant at first, still wishing to flee the room and into the safety of his own solitary. Still, he found himself pacing towards her. Taking soft and flinching steps until he sat beside her.

“Then what is the fear?” He took the other glass, quickly chugging the alcohol. y/n said nothing but just stared at him in confusion. “The fear you feel, why?”

It was now her turn to become flustered. He looked genuinely curious as to why she was feeling doubtful, but she was unsure if he truly wanted to know the answer. Her father made her promise never to speak of it to anyone, a shameful secret that would ruin her future if it was released. But Tom was now her husband. They were bonded by law, a thought she really didn’t wish to dwell on. Surely, whatever she told him wouldn’t cause them any stress? Still, it would be rude of her not to tell him the reason after he had just clearly demonstrated his own fears in the commitment. “You must promise not to become angry.”

Tom nodded his head gently, even more intrigued then he was before.

y/n quietly exhaled, avoiding looking at Tom. “I was married once before, he passed from the sickness 3 months into our matrimony. Perhaps it was God way of guiding me to a better future, but it ruined almost everything. His death caused create strain for my family as they attempt to rebuild myself as if I was not capable of it myself. I am terrified that I am cursed, that I shall find myself falling in love with you only to be weeping over your coffin months later.” She had poured her soul out, shared such a personal section of her life. She was ashamed to see his face. Too afraid that pure anger and disgust would paint his face.

“Who was he? The man whom you had married?” Tom asked her again. His voice calling out as she stared directly at the purple velvet beneath her dress.

“The Prince of Spain,” y/n squeaked.

“That inbred!” Tom joked, suddenly becoming relaxed by the mere mention of the Spanish Royal Family. “I am surprised you got three months and not three days, that kid was on death doors for his entire life,” Tom was now in a fit of laughter. It wasn’t directed to her but more that they allowed such a beautiful woman to be the wife of such a dull man. y/n peered up, thoroughly embarrassed as she gave him a light whack. Tom finally came down from his laughing fit, staring directly at her. “You are cursed Princess; you are just coddled. Forced into a life clearly not meant for someone like yourself.”

The mere mention of the cradling of her life got y/n riled up, “that’s another thing! The Spanish constantly treated me as if I was some porcelain doll ready to shatter if they dared even look at me! I felt like a child trapped in a woman’s body and he touched me like that as well. God, I was finally ready to truly live my life and then he just was too soft, I wanted something much mor-” Oh. Oh God. She had run her mouth too far, dug her own grave with her rambling. Her hands clamped against her mouth as a heat rushed to her face. She could see the French ships arriving for her next month, giving her passage because she was not in pristine condition. Hopefully Tom didn’t pick up on what she was inferring.

“You aren’t a virgin?” his voice was quiet, almost dark. She felt her entire world shatter. Tom scooted towards her slowly, it was completely unnoticed. She was too deep in panic to recognise the growing flirt rising in the Prince of Wales. y/n shook her head feverously. “That little tick took you?” When he put it like that, it made her stomach tingle. She had never heard such a sentence used in that tone. She was drowning in thoughts.

“I didn’t know what I was doing, that’s why I was so unsatisfied,” she tried to explain, her hands now bunched up the fabric against her knees. “He was just so soft, too soft and I wished he would have-”

“Would have what?” he toyed. Tom doesn’t quite know why he was acting like this. So intent on prying her little secrets out of her. Usually, he would have just simply got straight to the point but now, seeing her become red with frustration was a view causing him great pleasure. Any abstinence he hoped to place upon himself earlier in the night had been thrown out the window. He finally felt back in control, something he longed for. Something she was serving to him on a silver platter.

“I..” she began but the words got caught in her throat. Her tongue stopped completely, almost refusing to finish the damning sentence. She wanted him to be rougher with her, she wanted him to treat her like a woman and not a girl. “What happen to you wishing to keep your hands to yourself?” She attempted to change the topic, trying to flee but to no avail as he quickly caught her wrist in his palms. Their skins igniting on sight.

“Don’t try to change the subject Princess,” he purred, standing up to meet with her at the side of the bed. Her title now held a completely different meaning, it wasn’t being used to describe her. It was being used to utterly destroy her; a nickname only meant to be whispered in the dim light of a dozen candles. “I can see right through you,” Tom’s calloused fingers met the loose fabric on her shoulders, dancing over her collarbone. It was soft but held meaning. “I can see that you wished he touched you differently. Touched you like a real woman, rougher and passionate.”

His words were damned. She should feel ashamed that she was feeling light-headed just by the grazing touch of his fingers above her perked breasts. “Yes,” it was the only thing she could get out. The only single three lettered word that allowed itself out of her mouth. Tom pressed his lips to her neck, underneath her jaw.

“Perhaps, he too was inexperienced.” He spoke through small pecks. “Allow me to show you something different, something better,” it was barely above a whisper, but y/n heard every word. Her fingers tangled themselves in his hair as he peered at her.

“I would enjoy that very much,” y/n responded just as quiet, all the gentle touches he currently had placed upon her turned darker. He pulled her into his embrace quickly before tripping her feet from under her and ending atop her on the messily made bed. His hand instantly found the inside of her thigh, his finger bruising her skin. It was delightfully, the slight pain sending shivers down her spine.

Their lips met, gentle at first. Her hands moulding themselves against his jaw, moaning into his mouth as he pushed her deeper into the mattress. She wished she could stay like this forever, wrapping in Tom’s embrace as they mended together. Alas, he pulled away from her. Lips separating with a small pop and a soft whine from y/n underneath him. Tom took a distinct look at her; she was sprawled out and whimpering for something more. Did she give this look to him as well? Did she use the melody that was her voice to beg him to do anything? Tom didn’t particularly wish to replay the thought in his head but yet, he couldn’t help himself.

Her nightgown quickly found itself discarded; her nipples perked in the cold. His lips immediately latched on, massaging the soft tissue. He never knew something could feel this smooth, without any flaws or imperfections. Even though he knew he could spend an entire night between the valley of her tits, he too longed for something more.

In a matter of moments, he found himself staring directly at her sex. A glorious sight to behold, glistening with her arousal in the pale moonlight. She was practically dripping onto the sheets below her. He placed a soft kiss to her pelvis, she jumped at the contact. “If you feel uncomfortable, you need to tell me,” he told her all the while his fingers toyed at her hot hole. Dipping even so slightly into her heat. She was already in euphoria just from the slightest bit of pleasure. y/n nodded her head before locking eyes with him.

He didn’t waste another second, quickly licking a fat stripe through her folds. The taste was pure heaven, he didn’t give her a moment to register the feeling before diving right back into her juices. Sucking and pulling at her, wasting the night away feeling her thighs clamp around his head every time he flicked her clit coupled with a singular finger prancing in and out of her.

y/n wasn’t quite sure how loud she could truly be. She knew that even though they were in the far south-east of the castle, there could be a dozen scullery maids listening right outside the door. Or if someone was trying to achieve some sleep right beside them. At this very moment though, with Tom’s head in between her thighs devouring every inch of her throbbing cunt, she couldn’t give a single fuck. y/n allowed the string of curses and praised to tumble from her lips as she clasped onto the bed sheets for dear life.

“Such a dirty mouth,” Tom remarked, releasing her for a few seconds, “for such a pretty and delicious pussy.” He chuckled darkly. y/n wanted to bite back at him, but she was cut short but the addition of another of his digits sliding into her tight entrance. y/n clasped down hard on her hand. A foreign feeling began to drive itself into her stomach. While unusual, it was not at all exotic to her. It was thrilling, feeling her walls contract around his fingers as y/n began to instinctively rock her hips against his digits.

“God,” he purred, “that’s it, make yourself cum on my fingers Princess. Let me see that gorgeous face while you do it.” Tom had now retracted his mouth from her, completely mesmerised by the way her eyes screwed shut as she reached her peak. A cacophony of beautiful and dazzling sounds stumbling out of her mouth as he felt her climax all over his hand. Such a tantalising sight for any man.

y/n was too deep in her own return that she didn’t notice the retraction of his presences from the middle of her legs. So, when he felt his hands roughly pull her to the edge of the bed, she almost choked. The exhilarating feeling of his strained cock rubbing against her drenched folds made her forget her place. Made her speak before her mind could catch up. “I want you to fulfil the expectation.” She told him, her eyes never wavering from him.

Tom halted all his movements. It was painful but he needed absolute clarity before he did anything without her reassurance. “You need to elaborate Princess,” he told her darkly. He knew exactly what she was asking of him, he knew exactly what she desired.

“I want you to come inside of me,” she spoke as if she was a different person. y/n doesn’t quite know whether it’s the shift of mood or her own personal feelings but either way, she wanted to feel their juices mix and then leak out of her. Wanted him to fill her right up to the brim until the possibility was certain.

“You want me to fuck my seed right into you?” his words were dirtier than she expected but so was he as he slid in and into her. His naval hitting hers with a loud smack. He refused to move until he had played with her just that tad bit more. y/n’s head thrashed into the sheets behind her. She was so full, never has she felt this complete in her entire life. He wasn’t even moving but she could feel every inch of him deep inside of her.

“God yes,” she whimpered. “I need it so bad,” she was going to drive Tom insane. Just by a simple sentence, he was going to lose his mind and cum right now without even doing anything. 

“Want to carry my child, our own Prince or Princess,” he pulled back out of her and slammed right back in, knocking the wind out of her y/n. It was so profoundly dirty, just discussing it. It thrilled her to the very core, child-bearing was meant for women not girls. Perhaps that is why she is so drawn to the talk, the talk of something so primally feminine set her entire body on fire. She couldn’t speak a coherent sentence instead she just let out a continuous plea.

He began slow, hips rocking to find that perfect beat. He revelled in the only sounds in the room, the sound of his cock hitting the divine spot inside of her over and over again and her delirious moaning. It was a symphony he was lucky enough to hear. He wanted to hear more, listen to the pure sounds of him railing into her. So, he picked up the pace. His thrust became not only deep and harsh but fast.

God, if he could immortalise this feeling he would. The feeling of her walls constricting around him as he pounds right into her, the feeling of her legs wrapping around his constantly thrusting hips and the feeling of her sweating skin underneath his fingers as he grips for support. It’s like the Lord himself made her tight little cunt just for him.

“You’re so big,” y/n praised mindlessly. He’s never had someone say that to him without it sounding forced. It’s so raw that he can’t help but go even harder into with each praise that falls off her lips. “Fill me up, I want to feel you all inside of me.” It’s a dangerous game, she’s tapped on something so feral inside of him it hurts.

y/n wants to prop herself up and explore his body while he pounds into her, but she simply can’t. Her limbs give out with every thrust. Her entire body spasms each time he hits the perfect spot inside of her. She a moaning mess, trying to maintain any sense of normality but failing miserably. It’s a constant state of pleasure, she’s afraid that she’s lost track of time. That is until the faint, but all the desirable fit finds itself lit in the pit of her stomach.

“I’m almost there,” she whispers, it’s the only thing she can get out. His thrusts, that once had gained a steady and harsh rhythm are now falling. He’s losing focus with each grip he receives. With her words though, he gives her the final stretch. No longer does he has some form of structure but instead he’s just railing her like a wild animal.

It’s an explosion and neither knows why but it’s addictive. y/n climaxes around him, her toes curling as her final orgasm hits her long and violent. Shaking underneath, him as she unknowingly milks his own finish out of him. Tom’s fucking his cum right into her, he doesn’t stop for a second. Too focused on the goal ahead of him. Placing it where it counts. It’s a feeling he wants to never forget, better yet it’s a sight he wants permanently etched into his memories. As he pulls out of her, their climaxes tumble out of her. Dripping down her leg.

“Hold your legs up Princess,” he teases as he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “I heard it works wonders.”

The rose blooms only for those who care properly for her.

━━★✼☆｡

a/n: please don’t flop, omg this is so long and no one asked for this shit. please don’t flop chile 🤡

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland #tom #prince!tom #prince!tom holland #prince!tom holland x reader #prince!tom holland x you #tom holland smut #smut #angst #fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #marvel #marvel imagines #actor #actor smut #actor imagines #actor x you #au #prince au #princess au #princess #prince #princess!reader #princess!y/n #slow burn

[thefirsttree]

A personal update + my next game

OK, time to do this. I’ve been meaning to do a big DAVID WEHLE™ update for a while now and explain why I haven’t released a new game yet, but you know how life gets in the way. Especially when life is a quarantine hellscape, you have three beautiful, amazing, exhausting kids to raise, a spouse’s job you support, a viral YouTube channel that turns your brain to mush, a thousand emails waiting in your inbox since your game is free on the Epic Games Store (with an impressive number of redemptions too! … meaning lots of emails and customer support issues), etc., etc. What also contributes to my lack of updates is because… I just don’t really like posting online. Fascinating correlation, I know!

Don’t worry, this isn’t going to be a venting/ranting blog post (well, maybe a bit), because my life is seriously AMAZING and INSANELY BLESSED and LUCKY. I can’t believe how many dreams keep coming true, so much so that I feel I don’t deserve it and I really pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes… but I did want to at least be honest, because I owe that to myself.

Wow, where do I even begin? Well, how about we start with the reason I’m even a full-time indie game dev now: The First Tree. This small hobby project I worked on at night morphed into this gargantuan beast (or fox) that took over my life the past 5 years. Which is great! I’m living the dream! And yet, I really didn’t expect it to do as well as it did. At its core, my game is a slow-paced, sad walking simulator (ahem, I prefer the term “exploration game,” but you know what I mean) that somehow seemed to launch at the right time to the right audience. It resonated deeply with some of you, and for that I’m eternally grateful. I still get emails almost daily how my game changed their lives in some formative way. I’m beyond honored.

However, with that spotlight came criticism and demands from the ever-present, insatiable internet. I would randomly be surfing the gamedev subreddit trying to decompress, and I would see a comment by some rando saying how much I didn’t deserve my success, and how it was all one huge lucky fluke. And I believed them!

And to add to it, some devs considered me an indie marketing “guru”, which I was uncomfortable with. I worked hard to market my game every week, and after my GDC talk, people assumed marketing was my passion; the reason I got up every morning. Just to clarify… NO, I don’t like marketing, and I hate being the center of attention. I don’t like asking people for money and wishlists. But I did what was necessary because I was passionate about telling stories, and I wanted to give my story a fighting chance to be seen on the crowded pages of Steam.

So now, you’re probably wondering “well then David, why did you make fancy YouTube videos showing off your success? Not very modest if you ask me.” This honestly could be a long blog post all on its own, because my experience of putting myself in the spotlight and becoming a “content creator” is… complicated. It was an unusual step for me, especially since I never even showed my face online (as a game developer) until my GDC talk.

First off, I always wanted to teach and start a YouTube channel. I love video editing, especially since I’ve been doing it longer than making games! It’s a huge passion of mine. And teaching people who didn’t know they could make and finish games was a huge motivator (and it’s been so rewarding already). But the second reason is, I was scared. I was self-employed, and I was riding the success of a “huge lucky fluke” that would probably not happen again. I wanted to make sure I could provide for my amazing family, and give them food and health insurance and security in these tumultuous times. I was turning my lifelong passions and hobbies into a business, and it wasn’t as simple of a mental transition as I thought.

So, I went all in on YouTube and the accompanying online course called Game Dev Unlocked. I spent years editing the scripts and videos, and polishing them to a shine. At first, no one watched my videos, no one was buying… and in the blink of an eye, the YouTube algorithm picked up my main autobiographical video (“How Making Indie Games Changed My Life”), and I started getting 5,000 subscribers a day. Right now, I’m at 150,000 subs, which is still hard for me to believe. I always had a dream of earning 100k subs on YouTube, so I was pretty happy with the whole thing. Sales were OK, but mostly people didn’t want to buy the course. Then the emails came in…

Something you should know about me: I am a textbook “people pleaser,” and if someone asks for my help, I take it very seriously. If someone is mad at me, even if I didn’t do anything wrong, it’s all I can think about, and it ruins my day. So, taking an onslaught of people begging for help and multiplying that by an impossible amount of people for my brain to truly comprehend thanks to the internet… and let’s just say it wasn’t a healthy mix.

I received thousands of emails from people who were begging me for some kind of reassurance that everything would be OK. That their dreams would come true too. And I wanted to help every single one of them. I went from a nobody working on a game for fun to becoming a spokesperson for the indie game dream. I couldn’t even get a shake from the Chick-Fil-A drive-thru without someone recognizing me and asking for game dev advice. And it didn’t stop there… I would get emails from suicidal kids asking for help, teenagers from Afghanistan asking me to get them out of their country, and on one occasion I received an email from a hopeful game developer in a war-torn country who had just experienced a bomb blowing up their neighboring village. His friends were dead, and he was hoping he could finish a game before he died too, and he needed my help. How do you say no to something like that? Didn’t I owe it to everyone because I was lucky with my hit game and I needed to “pay it forward”? (Something people constantly reminded me of)

And then to top it off, after you’ve given everything you’ve got to other people in need… you get hate mail in your inbox. You spend the whole day serving your children and strangers on the internet, then when the kids are finally asleep, you hit the bed to relax and take a look at your phone to decompress, and you randomly come across an angry gamer in your Twitter mentions telling you your game they got for free sucks, and that you took away a potentially great game from them and that your apology isn’t good enough.

Long story short, I went to a mental therapist for the first time in my life. I was broken trying to care for two toddlers and a new baby in a pandemic (which is very, very hard), taking care of my course students who gave me their hard-earned money and demanded results, and the countless people begging for help on the internet. I was this introverted, internet-lurker trying to take on the weight of the world. I was so tired and hurt that no one cared about me and my needs… only what I could do for them.

Quitting my day job and making this hobby my full-time job has stirred up… mixed emotions. This statement may disturb some of you, but I was definitely 100% happier when I had a full-time job and I was working on my game at night. I missed working with the amazing team at The VOID, working on Star Wars… back when the success of my game was this abstract thing I could only daydream about. Mostly, I was making my game for me with no outside expectations to pay the bills or satisfy the ever-demanding internet, and that brought me a lot of joy.

It’s not all doom and gloom though! I’m actually very happy now and in the best shape I’ve been since the pandemic started. I’ve had to confront my weaknesses and personality quirks, but I’m a better person for it (and I’m sure these issues would’ve come out eventually). I hired an awesome community manager for Game Dev Unlocked who is helping SO MUCH with the emails, I can’t even tell you the mental burden it alleviates. I even leased a co-working office to help separate work from my home, and that’s been a huge help too. I’ve decided to work with my old friends from The VOID on a cool, new VR experience. It will take me away from my projects a bit, but I’m ecstatic to work with a great team again (and not manage anything, whew).

These are all things I would’ve never guessed I needed, because I thought I knew myself pretty well… turns out I didn’t.

The reality is: running a business is HARD. Running it solo is even harder. You have to remember, I was burnt out on The First Tree well into the Steam release in 2017, but I kept working on it for 4 more years due to my fears of failing again and not earning enough money for my family.

So, I was wrestling with the age-old concept of commercialism and art. There was this dichotomy of doing whatever I wanted and being true to my vision (what most people assume the indie dev dream is like), and doing only what customers wanted to buy. This is something that has killed me with YouTube… in one specific instance, I was super excited to make the exact video I wanted to make. I loved every part of its creation, and I thought it had a message that would inspire everyone. I lovingly edited it over several weeks, posted it, and excitedly waited for the stats… and it was by far my worst performing video.

This is not a new problem. Even the Sistine Chapel by Michelangelo was a commission forced upon him by the very violent Pope Julius II. My wife and I regularly talk about the fine balance between artistic integrity and commercialism, a problem she is very familiar with as an artist who constantly needs to balance what she wants to make with what the customer wants to hang up in their home.

For The First Tree, I was lucky. It was pretty much what I wanted to make (I had to compromise a lot of things of course), and it turned out millions of people wanted it too. Recently, I thought the safe business decision would be to do it all over again, so I started work on a spiritual successor to The First Tree (an idea that I may revisit one day since I do love the story idea). But that isn’t happening anytime soon. Trust me when I say I am now currently burnt out on animal exploration games.

So that realization left me with a question: what do I do next?

I’ve decided I need to make a game that I want to make, for me. It will be a bit different and I’m almost certain most fans of The First Tree will not love it… but it’s an idea that gets me super excited. It’s an idea that could help me fall in love with game development again.

A few more details: this game will be story-driven, first-person, and will use the Unreal Engine. That means development is gonna be slow going, because I have to learn a whole new tool. The “smart business” decision would be to make something quickly in Unity which I’m already familiar with… but I want to do this for me, and UE5 looks like a lot of fun. I’m also shooting for an early-ish release date so I avoid burn out and I keep the game short: I want to release it in Fall 2022, but knowing game development, it will probably take longer.

With the help of my therapist, I’ve also concluded that I’ve been too accessible on the internet and that my self-worth isn’t determined by the amount of people I try to help online. Of course, I love helping people and seeing them succeed, but I need to step back and focus on my family and myself. I will delete my social media apps on my phone (I will still post big updates occasionally) and stop responding to most emails, tweets, DMs, etc. It’s not that I’m ungrateful… in fact, if I don’t say thank you or at least acknowledge the incredibly nice people who share a sweet message about my game or want to tell me how I inspire them (still hard for me to believe, lol), I feel a ton of guilt… but I need to let that go. Please know I’m extremely grateful to all the fans who follow my work, so even if I don’t thank you directly, I truly mean it: thank you.

I will still post and stream occasionally on YouTube when I want to (and I still do live Q&A’s for my GDU students). The online course sales will help support my family as I work on a potentially risky game idea (and my new job will help alleviate the risk too). I’m gonna try one more marketing experiment and sell a mini-course soon (and add an Unreal section), and after that I’m done working on it. A gigantic thank you to the people who bought my course and are part of the amazing community, it has helped me and my family tremendously, and it’s inspiring seeing the games you make!

I’m a bit worried about the whole thing since this new game idea could flop, which could definitely affect my family. But a sappy, high-school yearbook quote is coming to mind…  I think it applies here: “A ship in harbor is safe—but that is not what ships are built for.”

Thanks for reading,

David

#gamedev #indie games #the first tree

[lydias--stiles]

Stydia- “God am I still dreaming?”

“God, am I still dreaming?” Stiles drawled, lazily watching Lydia emerge from the bathroom in a red wrap dress.

“No, but you’ll be dead if you don’t get up,” Lydia replied, saccharine sweet, tapping a fingernail against his leg.

Whenever Stiles went through manic periods at the FBI headquarters, he always inevitably crashed and flopped down on their bed to sleep for what felt like a millennium. This, Lydia understood. They got each other to pace themselves and create some semblance of a healthy work-life balance (as healthy as they could, given their history with horror lurking around every corner for three years straight), but his current lethargy really did not help right now.

Despite dodging the event for the last two years, Lydia was now required to attend an event at the university. A night where professors got to mingle and, essentially, gloat about their often subpar papers making it into scientific magazines no one read. If there was someone actually permitted to gloat, it was Lydia. She preferred to let her actions speak louder than her words though; she screamed enough already.

Alas, the president of MIT had cornered her in her office, begged her to come by and say a few words. And so, Lydia had said: “Only if my husband can come as well.”

Which now led to this predicament.

Stiles groaned. “Lyds, I love you, but I’m pretty fucking sure I slept a total of one hour in the past three days. I’m physically, mentally, emotionally—”

“You seem pretty chatty to me.”

“—and spiritually unable to go to this… intellectual jerk-off event.”

Lydia blinked. “That’s an excellent way to phrase it, actually. Unfortunately, you married one. So…” She patted his leg again. “Get up.”

The man rolled on his side and flailed one arm as though motioning her to come close. The idea of snuggling with him enthralled her far more than the plans for the night, but she knew she’d get side-eyed for months if she didn’t go. Passive aggression was her thing, not the other way around. Giving in a little, she sat at the edge of the bed and gently curled her hand in his hair.

“You do look like a dream, baby,” Stiles whispered.

Her lips pursed, fighting off a silly smile. “Hm?”

“Lay down with me.”

“I can’t. We can’t.” Her tone didn’t hold much conviction, but she had to put her foot down. Allowing her fingers to caress his cheek one time, she then stood up and said, “Wear your good suit. We’ll stay for one hour.”

Stiles stuck his thumb in the air. “Sure, sure.”

Her eyes narrowed. “If you’re not ready in thirty minutes, I’ll reveal your real name to the entire board of MIT.”

Stiles fell out of bed with a squeak and jumped upright. “I’m up! I’m up!”

#stydia #teen wolf #game: 5 sentences or more #ask ophelia

[pixiedoodlein]

10 days until school and I’m no more decided than I was a week ago. I flip flop ten times day about what might be best. A is sick of hearing me talk about it. He doesn’t disagree with my risk assessment but he is sick of talking about it.

It caused an issue with his friend, a friend who is his best friend and is unvaccinated and works in a jail. Months ago we told friend he could only visit (this place is their boyhood dream) once he’s vaccinated. Friend typically believes in science and is very health conscious but his gf is a moron Trump lover and her family the same and that’s who he’s been spending all his time with since this all started. When I asked friend why he’s not vaccinated he said he’s young & healthy, didn’t trust the vaccines, would do it when they got full fda approval. Plenty of young healthy people are dead of this. Anyway then I asked ok so what if you give it to someone who isn’t and dies, people incarcerated in the jail he works in and don’t have the luxury of social distancing, and he was like eh whatever. So yes friend is an asshole, but his best friend for decades, friend has always been kind of an asshole but has many redeeming qualities too. So we said no visit. But then in July when there was no covid here and no covid where he lives and we were blissfully living our covid free lives we loosened up and said he could visit with two negative tests. But then covid got bad again and when asshole friend contacted A the other day to say he took time off in late Sept to visit, A said sorry, it’s fully fda approved now you have no excuses not to vaccinate, we’re worried about our unvaccinated kids, and as of now you can’t visit but hey maybe if you get vaccinated and the numbers look better we can reassess in a month and you can come. Friend was a total dick about it, didn’t understand our point of view at all, stressed A about it, who was in a bad mood about it for days afterward.

Then there’s the neighbors. I had a chat with the kids and a chat with the mom. I framed it as we love them so much and I know they’re careful but I think we should all be more careful while the numbers are so rising (aka only outdoor hangouts) and we are careful but I’ve heard terrifying stories from doctor friends about kids and babies getting very sick, and they have a baby who I don’t want us to make sick, and she said she agreed. The kids have been pretty good about making the adjustment from constant sleepovers to playing outside but M keeps asking me “the kids need to pee are they allowed to use the bathroom, the kids are hungry are they allowed to come inside even for one minute for a snack,” and I feel like the villain (I’ve been saying yes to pee, snacks I’ll bring out). Everyone’s been understanding but nobody is getting what I mean when I say only outdoor socializing. All the kids keep asking me when I’ll take them to town again for ice cream, “but it’s outside” (um yeah but the car’s not), asking their mom to ask me for sleepovers even though they know what the answer will be. The other day they were playing in our yard then it started raining and they were like “we can’t walk home in the rain”- I don’t want them to walk home in the rain, but again the car is indoors!- so I drove them home (but made M stay at our house). They’re not my kids so I can’t make them wear masks and it feels like now I am in the position of being the mean parent who’s psycho about covid, which in a way I am, but it would help me to stick to my guns and feel okay about sticking to them if the government policies matched the severity of the situation, ie mask mandates in public places (instead of stores posting polite recommendations), vaccine mandates, virtual learning options, etc.

Which brings me to school. After selling M hard on real school, then I sold her hard on home school. She already “did” 3rd grade last year (as much as me teaching her in my pajamas counts as doing), but this district has an earlier cut off than the city, so she’s in 3rd grade again here. Which is fine by me- her birthday is the same day as the very late nyc cut off (12/31) and I hated that she was the absolute youngest. I used to beg the school to hold her back and they’d say “but why she’s doing so well!” not understanding that I was thinking ahead to the teen years. But anyway, despite her haphazard pj’d professor, she seemed to learn a lot last year so homeschool this year could basically be unschool. She’d traipse around the forest identifying birds and trees with A and her brother, reading for pleasure, and I’d spend an hour here and there reviewing some worksheets with her so she’d be on track when she starts real school after she gets vaccinated. She was into the idea, until she found out she and one of the neighbor kids are in the same class. Now she absolutely wants to go to real school, AND ride the school bus. The school bus part makes me very nervous. While there is now a school mask mandate (but will it be enforced? what are their lunch procedures, what % of teachers are vaccinated, what % of the older kids in the same building as the little kids are vaccinated, did they actually really update their ventilation system?) and a bus mask rule, it’s a long rural route (15 min drive or 45 min bus) and I have no faith that bus windows will be open and all riders will be masked the whole time.

So just tell her she can go to school but has to be driven by a parent, right? Not so simple. I was offered a job at a (somewhat, commuting distance) nearby nonprofit- an easy low stress job in a bastion of liberalism with very very nice smart coworkers, excellent work life balance, a writing job that sounds made for me, like the job description is exactly what I would put together if I were putting together my dream job (except the pay, which is half what I was making at a fancy DC nonprofit, but high for this area, and our housing cost is half so it should be fine if A can get away from little guy long enough to bring in some money too). It’s mostly remote but approx one day a week in the office and some days there will be things I need to attend out in the community (not necessarily our community, they serve the whole region). It won’t always be the same day in the office and the office is an hour away- so on those days A would have no car to get her to and from school, since I’d need to leave before school starts and get home after it’s done. So I guess we need to buy a new car? Aside from this issue we really don’t need a second car now, were planning to get one eventually, but not until A’s business has enough projects to justify the cost.

Despite its many demands/challenges/ stressors, home school is sounding easier to me at this point (especially because she already did this grade), except she WANTS to go to school. Someone talk me out of putting some lipstick and a pantsuit on her and taking her to get vaccinated. I know, I know: the 5-11 dosage is 1/3 of the 12-adult dosage. The doctors I’ve spoken to are split on this hypothetical kamikaze mission. The doctors I’ve spoken to are also split on me and A going to a pharmacy now for booster. It’s been almost 6 months since our 2nd dose. We do not have compromised immune systems. This county has way more doses than demand and I would feel better sending M to school (bus or not) if we had our boosters and she had a first dose- moral and scientific quandaries aside- because there is A LOT of covid here now, a lot of covid everywhere now, and I feel like we are returning to regular life at the time when we should be most hunkered down.

Which brings me to the data. Per capita there are as many known cases here as in nyc, except nyc has a 50% higher vax rate, much more mask usage, better medical system. People are not getting enough tests here, there is a higher positivity rate, and so I think the actual number of cases is much higher than the reported number of cases. It seems like, friends here and in the city and in the suburbs (I just broke up with a friend in the suburbs because she professes to be a good democrat but is hosting a bonafide super spreader event and vacationing in a place with 39% positivity and a collapsed health care system), are thinking of covid as something you catch from strangers- they wear masks in stores- but aren’t careful at all around close friends and family (so many extended family gatherings, so many, cousins and grandparents and half-siblings and aunts and uncles and whoever), when this is a disease that kills via the people you love most, the ones who’d never intentionally hurt you.