#right now i can’t offer help financially

[disciplined-cornfed]

Rome wasn't built in a day

Alex had never expected his college life to take this kind of turn. He’d moved to New York for school, planning to live on campus like most students, but when he found a better deal on an off-campus apartment that financial aid would cover, he jumped on it. The apartment was in a decent neighborhood, close to the subway, and the landlord didn’t ask too many questions. Seemed like a win.

What he hadn’t planned on, though, was Frank—his new roommate.

Frank was… something else. The guy was like a time capsule from a decade ago, straight out of Jersey Shore. From the gelled-back hair, the deep tan, ridiculous yelling at football and ufc matches every weekend, the flashy chains, to the relentless love of tank tops and gold watches. Alex wasn’t sure if Frank was for real or if this was just an elaborate, extended joke.

But here’s the thing: despite his douchey exterior, Frank was actually a pretty nice guy. Sure, he blasted club music at ungodly hours and flexed in the mirror every time he passed it, but Frank was always chill. He’d offer Alex food whenever he cooked, made sure the apartment was clean, and always gave him a heads-up when he had people over. Plus, Frank clearly knew what he was doing in the gym. The guy was shredded, and Alex had to admit, Frank’s discipline when it came to his diet and workout routine was impressive.

It didn’t take long before Alex’s curiosity got the best of him.

One day, after weeks of seeing Frank pound protein shakes and head to the gym religiously, Alex asked him for some advice. He had always been a casual gym-goer, but seeing Frank’s dedication made him wonder if he could up his own game.

“Yo, Frank,” Alex said one afternoon as they sat in the living room. “What do you usually eat for those gains, man? And how do you stay so consistent?”

Frank grinned, pausing the DJ Pauly D remix playing on his speakers. “Bro, it’s all about focus foods and the right lifts. Stick to lean meats, eggs, beans, lots of veggies. And you gotta hit the weights hard. No shortcuts.”

Alex nodded, scribbling down some notes on his phone. “Got any recommendations? Like content or something I can watch?”

Frank’s grin grew wider. “Oh, for sure. I’ll send you some stuff. There’s Dom Mazzetti, Vinny Guadagnino—some good shit, bro. But hey, I’ll send you my playlist too. Got a WAV file I use at the gym that keeps me hyped.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “A playlist?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Frank said, waving his hand dismissively. “It’s got some fire tracks. Also, I threw in some personal affirmations underneath it, helps me stay focused during my lifts. You probably won’t even notice them, but they help, bro. Trust me.”

Alex wasn’t really buying into the whole “subliminal affirmation” thing. It sounded like some weird self-help nonsense. But Frank was shredded, and if these little tricks worked for him, maybe they were worth a shot.

Later that evening, Alex plugged in his headphones and hit play on Frank’s WAV file. It started with “Lucky, Lucky, Lucky Me”—a male cover that felt oddly calming. The song transitioned into upbeat remixes like “Fireball” and other club tracks that seemed to pump adrenaline into his veins. Somewhere in between, Sinatra’s smooth voice made an appearance, bringing a strange, nostalgic energy to the mix.

As the playlist played, Alex caught faint whispers beneath the music—barely noticeable. “You love the gym. You crave the weights. Tanning makes you feel amazing. You rep the Italian pride with every lift.”

He chuckled to himself. This subliminal shit can’t be real, he thought. But, whatever—Frank swears by it.

The playlist ended with “Lucky, Lucky Me” again, and as Alex dozed off that night, the tune echoed faintly in his head.

The changes didn’t happen overnight, but as the days went by, Alex began to notice subtle differences. It started with his workouts. He’d always been someone who worked out occasionally, but now there was something different. One morning, as he walked past the gym on his way to class, he felt an urge—a need to lift. It wasn’t just about getting in shape anymore. Something about the weights called to him, pulling him in.

He ended up inside, grabbing a set of dumbbells and diving into a full workout. By the time he finished, he was drenched in sweat, but instead of feeling exhausted, he felt exhilarated. There was a rush—an energy that coursed through him, leaving him wanting more.

From that point on, the gym became part of his daily routine. At first, he didn’t even realize it was happening. He started following Frank’s tips—lifting heavier, focusing on compound movements, and pushing himself harder with each session. His muscles responded quickly, growing faster than they ever had before. His shirts started to fit tighter, hugging his chest and arms in ways they never had before. Every time he looked in the mirror, he couldn’t help but flex, admiring his progress.

It wasn’t just the gym either. One afternoon, Alex caught himself in front of the bathroom mirror, noticing how pale his skin looked under the fluorescent lights. Without thinking much of it, he booked an appointment at the tanning salon down the street. After his first session, he looked at himself in the mirror, marveling at the golden glow on his skin. It made him feel good, confident—like he was stepping into a new version of himself.

Tanning became part of his routine, just like the gym. He started looking forward to that golden glow, the way it made his muscles stand out more, and how it just felt right.

One weekend, Alex found himself wandering into a clothing store, drawn to a section of tank tops with bold prints—Italian flags, American flags, vibrant colors that screamed confidence. He picked up a few without thinking twice, the fabric feeling perfect against his newly defined arms. When he got home and slipped into one of the tanks, he stood in front of the mirror, flexing his biceps. The tank hugged his body in all the right places, and as he admired his reflection, a grin spread across his face.

Damn, I look good.

It wasn’t just the clothes that made him feel this way—it was the pride, the feeling of representing his heritage with every lift, every flex. It felt right.

The most surprising change came with his voice. At first, it was barely noticeable—a slight shift in his accent, a few new words slipping into his vocabulary. But as the weeks went on, the transformation in his speech became undeniable. His voice took on a thicker Jersey inflection, and words like “bro” and “yo” started slipping out naturally, almost without him realizing it. He spoke with more confidence, more swagger, his words carrying a weight that hadn’t been there before.

He even noticed how loud he’d become, but it wasn’t obnoxious—it felt like he was owning the room. His friends started to comment on it, but Alex didn’t mind. It felt like the way he was supposed to talk, like his voice was finally matching the rest of his transformation.

One night, Alex found himself scrolling through YouTube, where he came across a Dom Mazzetti video. He clicked on it, expecting to laugh at the over-the-top persona, but something else happened. As Dom joked about gym culture, diet, and lifting, Alex found himself nodding along, relating to the lifestyle. The gym wasn’t just a place to work out anymore—it was part of who he was becoming.

The next few weeks passed in a blur. Alex’s days revolved around the gym, tanning, and repping his heritage with pride. He found himself following more content creators who embodied the same mindset—guys who lived for the grind, the lifts, and the pride in who they were.

His roommate Frank noticed the changes, too. “Bro, you’re looking jacked,” Frank said one afternoon as Alex flexed in the mirror before heading out to the gym. “You flexing the gains hard now.”

Alex grinned, running a hand through his hair, which he’d started gelling back every morning. “Yeah, man. It just feels right, you know?”

Frank clapped him on the shoulder, a proud smirk on his face. “Told ya. Once you get in the groove, there’s no going back. You’re one of us now, bro. Tanning, lifting, and heritage. Welcome to the crew.”

Alex chuckled, feeling Frank’s words sink in. Wasn’t just about the workouts or the diet no more. It was the whole package—the attitude, the pride, the way he carried himself. He’d become confident, bold, and unapologetic. The gym had become his temple, and every flex in the mirror, every perfectly tanned muscle, reminded him of how far he’d come.

He spoke with more confidence now, his voice carrying a thick Jersey accent that seemed to come naturally. Words like “bro” and “yo” slipped out effortlessly, and he found himself embracing the louder, more assertive side of himself. Even his walk had changed—there was more swagger, more presence.

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

A few weeks later, Alex and Frank were sitting in the living room, scrolling through profiles of potential new roommates. Their lease was ending soon, and they needed to find someone to fill the third room. Frank leaned back in his chair, sipping a protein shake as he swiped through a list of candidates.

“Yo, check this one out,” Alex said, pausing on a profile. “Marco Ricci. Italian last name.”

Frank raised an eyebrow and leaned in, studying the screen. “Oh shit, an Italian? That’s promising.”

They opened Marco’s profile, but instead of seeing someone flexing or rocking a tan, Marco looked... pretty regular. He wasn’t out of shape, but he wasn’t exactly lifting heavy either. Pale, with a pretty average physique, he was the kind of guy who didn’t seem to spend much time at the gym. His shirt was plain, and his expression, while friendly, was far from the confident swagger Alex and Frank had come to expect in their circle.

Alex chuckled, nudging Frank. “Dude’s kinda pasty, huh?”

Frank smirked. “Yeah, bro. Definitely needs some work. But Rome wasn’t built in a day, you know? He’s got the Italian blood—that’s what counts. We can mold him.”

Alex nodded, his mind already racing. Marco might not be there yet, but with the right guidance, who knows? The guy had potential. He just needed some direction.

“Yeah,” Alex said, swiping right on Marco’s profile. “We’ll get him there. If he’s down to move in, I have the perfect playlist in mind."

Frank chuckled deeply, shaking his head. “Bro, he won’t know what hit him.”

Alex grinned, flexing in the mirror nearby. “Hey, Rome wasn’t built in a day, right?”

Frank laughed again, raising his protein shake in a mock toast. “Damn straight, bro."

WANNA BECOME A GUIDO FOR REAL? Try this subliminal:

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[logan-the-artist]

free Palestine.

here’s a great recently updated post with fundraisers to help the people from Palestine.

​i might lose followers for this but i don’t care. if you’re against Palestine, you’re welcome to leave.

[skzdarlings]

i do ; skz ; felix x reader

requested by anonymous: ' I would love if you could use these prompts...on Felix x fem reader:❛ i love that no one else has seen you like this, that no one else has felt you before, been inside you. they don't get to have you, but i do. ❜❛ you're mine. you've always been mine. ❜I love possessive Felix, istg i would give amything to have him' plus two anonymous requests for: 'i'd say you need someone to put you in your place' for felix.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: look this request was for possessive!felix and so possessive!felix i delivered. he is a little weirdo in this tbh. but i think after all my anti-rich-guy stories, i have earned the right for one problematic possessive mafia boss who throws his money and his dick around hahaha. so yes, possessive!felix, virgin!reader, wedding night, arranged marriage, felix being a criminal boss, insta-love. reader's backstory involves a verbally abusive/neglectful family. explicit sexual content. word count: 4000 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy <3

-

Your new husband is astoundingly pretty.   You expected a different face to be waiting at the end of the wedding aisle: harsh, old, scarred.  Maybe, if you let yourself fantasize, he would be handsome in a rugged way. 

You were not expecting Felix.  Slender, delicate Felix with his high cheekbones and freckles, his dark eyes and feather-soft blonde hair.  He smiled a dimpled smile as your father surrendered your hand. 

That surrender was a visual representation of a literal transaction.  You were a bartering tool to save your father’s business.  You knew an arranged marriage was inevitable when a few trades went sour and the company went bankrupt.  The family could only maintain relevancy and safety through a match to someone more powerful. 

Lee Felix is the heir to a very dirty criminal syndicate that blends in high society.  Everyone knows their money is blood-spattered, but they throw a good party and the jewels sparkle the same.

You knew his name long before the wedding.  Of course you knew his name.  But you did not know his face.  You expected a devil, not a vision of divinity, resplendent in white and gold. 

Your heart has not stopped racing since he first lifted your veil and kissed you with lips softer and gentler than your grandest fantasies. 

Now you are perched on a lavish bed in a beautiful penthouse suite.  The walls are windows, externally tinted but offering you a glorious view of the glittering cityscape at night.  You wonder how much of the city your new husband owns. 

Would that be an impertinent question?  It is not as though there is any real charade to play; this is not a love match and there is no sense pretending otherwise.  Enquiring after financial assets is arguably appropriate insofar as business goes. 

Then the door opens and your new husband enters.  All thoughts of business flitter into nothing, an insignificant detail next to your wedding night.  A night with this powerful and beautiful stranger.

“Are you nervous?” he asks in a voice so deep it keeps surprising you.  It suits his angelic appearance in a way, something so captivating about its low tones, effortlessly melodic.  But that melody is coloured darkly in its depth, scratching a shiver up your spine.  When he speaks, it feels like he is trailing his fingers up your back in a curious, searching touch. 

He looks at you with as much depth, dark eyes penetrating as he circles the bed.  He has been nothing but polite, but you can’t help but feel like prey being circled by a predator. 

Even more concerning, you can’t help but like it.  Since the moment he took your hand, his eyes have not left you.  It is almost overwhelming.  You have been invisible your whole life.  No one ever looked at you.  No one ever wanted you.  Your father scared off anyone who tried. 

Felix is not just anyone.  Anyone sensible would be scared of him.

You are also not just anyone. 

“No,” you answer.

“Really?”  He lifts a curious eyebrow. 

You are both in your wedding clothes, all white and gold.  Your veil is draped over a chair in the corner.  He puts his coat there too. 

He never looks away from you, rolling his shirtsleeves up his forearms as he approaches the bed.

“May I ask, why not?” he asks.  It’s a funny question, so polite but only posed because he knows his own reputation.  He knows what you must think of him.  The bloodshed, the ruthlessness, the merciless command he holds over his family’s legacy.  He might look unassuming, but he is not to be trifled with.  That gentle exterior could be unnerving to some people, even more than an outward brute. 

But you have dealt with those brutes your whole life.  An abusive father, cruel brother, an uncaring mother.  Hurt, neglected, ignored. 

Tonight, while you circled the reception to greet everyone, your father and brother pulled you aside.  Your mother had already berated you on the details of your appearance, but they were reprimanding you for every other misstep.

You almost burst into tears, tired and frightened.  You were so afraid you would never escape them.  Even at your wedding, on the cusp of a new life, they were dragging you around, kicking and screaming.

Then you felt a tap on your shoulder.  Bang Chan, one of Felix’s most trusted agents, stood there with a forced but cordial smile.  He looked at you and not your family. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said.  “Your husband is asking for you.  Please, come with me.”

Your father sputtered indignantly, unaccustomed to such blatant disrespect for his authority.  Chan said nothing to him, simply offered you his arm.  He also opened his jacket to flash the gun in his chest holster.  Your family had their weapons stripped before entering the reception.  It was a subtle reminder of who was really in charge. 

So your father and brother were left sputtering helplessly as Chan escorted you across the room.  Felix was sitting with some of his men, smiling his bright smile and looking like any happy young groom. 

That sunny face faltered when he saw your morose expression.  His glance passed to your family, a flicker of anger in his gaze.  Then he smiled at you and held out a welcoming arm. 

“Come here,” he said.  “Sit with me a bit.  Please.” That deep voice.  You felt it like a touch inside you. He had recited the scripted vows earlier.  This invitation was his first real address. 

You nodded.  Your legs were shaky from the confrontation, never mind the wobble from your heels.  Your feet hurt.  Sitting would be a relief if nothing else. 

There was an empty seat behind Felix.  It was the type of seat you were usually given: at the back where you could be forgotten. 

Once you were within reach, Felix grabbed you around the waist.  Your breath caught as you stumbled towards him.  He caught you and held you.  Then you were sitting in his lap, your dress draped everywhere, a glittering ivory prize perched safe and pretty on his knee.  He wrapped a possessive arm around your middle. 

It was more than a power play.  It was one thing to put you on his lap and show your family that he owned you now, but it was another for him to frown as he touched the painfully tight pearl belt around your waist. 

“Why is this so tight?” he asked, looking at you with concern.     

“I’m sorry,” you said automatically, in the habit of grovelling whenever someone took a disappointed tone.  “My mother,” you spoke softly, not wanting the rest of the table to hear. 

He leaned closer to you, offering you his ear directly.  A whisper was all you managed, unaccustomed to such attention.

“They’re real pearls,” you whispered.  “Very expensive.  Very fine.  Too fine for me.  My mother had the belt made small so I would remember to act worthy of them.  Sit straight.  Not over-eat.  You know.”

He frowned, his brow furrowing.  Instinct compelled you to soothe that displeasure, laughing like you were not upset.

“It’s all right,” you said.  “She’s right.  They are very fine pearls.”

“It’s not all right,” Felix said.  He looked at you, held your gaze in his own.  You found yourself counting his freckles.  “Do you like it?” he asked. 

Maybe it was his display of power.  Maybe it was his arm around you.  Maybe it was the freckles.  He looked so sweet, so sincere.  You could not bring yourself to lie.  Though you had defended your cruel family all your life, the truth fell from your lips in a rough exhale. 

“No.”  You felt tears in your eyes.  “I know it’s expensive.  I know it’s beautiful.  But I’ve never hated anything more.” 

He held your gaze, your watery eyes in the dark depths of his own.

Then he grabbed the belt by a thin material strand and yanked.  A couple pearls popped right off and scattered.  The rest dangled on the belt, an absurd amount of wealth in his hand. 

Felix tossed it over his shoulder like it was garbage. Then he wrapped his arm around your waist and held you against him. 

You chanced a look at your family.  They were scandalized.  Horrified.  And you breathed easier for the first time in a long time. You have long suffered the oppressive strangle of control masquerading as love.  His protective arm felt nothing like that pearl belt.

So you look at him now.  You strive to articulate all these feelings.  You are not used to speaking and having someone listen. 

“I can’t explain it,” you say.  “Maybe it’s foolish.  But I… I just feel like I was meant to be here.  With you.  Like this.”

Your heart jumps at his expression, a luminous pleasure that brightens this dimly lit room. 

“That’s funny,” he says.  “I feel the same way.”

You swallow as he sits beside you.  Slowly, touch by touch, breath by breath, he is bringing your bodies together.  His knee touches yours, his arm your arm.  He folds his hands in his lap but he is close enough you can count his freckles again. 

“I need to be honest with you,” he says.  “I’ve wanted you since I first saw you.  A year ago.  At the winter masquerade.”

You look at him with surprise.  All at once, his eyes come back to you, gazing at you behind a golden bird mask at the annual winter social.  You couldn’t place the handsome stranger at the time.  His hair was dark then, his face in a mask.  He did not speak.  His distinctive voice would have given him away. 

He danced one dance with you, the only person who danced with you all night.  You were later reprimanded for behaving like a slut, even though he touched your waist and nothing more.

“You were very kind,” he says.  “I watched you with the staff.  You were the only one in that whole room to say please and thank you to them – did you know that?”  He sighs and looks away, thoughts travelling beyond this room.  “I came from nothing,” he says.  “My family… we fought to get where we are now.  But I remember, you know.  What it feels like to be the smallest and least important person in the room.”

You sit straighter when he looks at you.  Oh, your heart has not slowed its thunder.  Excitement and affection swirl together in a motley tempest of sensation, touched by his words and yearning for more.  You thought you had been sold to an uncaring bidder, but Felix touches you slowly, like he would a very fine work of art.  His knuckles caress your cheek, the slope of your jaw. 

“I thought…” He looks at you reverently.  “I thought… I would do anything to preserve that goodness.  I would protect it.  Like your family wasn’t.”  His brow furrows now, a shadow of his face.  “They would have ruined you.” 

His hand continues, knuckles skimming down your throat, your shoulder, your arm.  You shiver.   He has a terrible scar, scoring the whole back of his hand.  A stark difference to your unblemished hand, your manicured nails against his calloused fingers. 

He says, “I know what it’s like to be ruined.”

You look from your hands to his face, his handsome profile, the slope of his nose and his soft lips.  He is still looking at your joined hands. 

“I wasn’t always like this,” he says.  “I’d give anything to have my innocence back.  But I can’t.”

He lifts your hand, cradles it between both of his like something precious.  Your breath catches when he kisses your palm, lips soft against your skin.  

“So I told myself, I would do anything to save yours,” he says.  He looks almost… afraid.  An expression you never expected to see on this man.   “So I destroyed your father’s business,” he says.  “It was all me.  I knew he would never give you to a man like me unless he had no choice.  He would have given you away to one of his friends and they would have broken you.  But you were already mine.  So I left him no choice but to see things my way.” 

“Oh,” you say, surprised beyond all words. 

“I wanted you to know before anything… happens… between us,” he says.  “But I understand if your feeling are complicated.  Or if you… fear me.”

Your father has often boasted how many men fear him.  It does not sound like a boast from Felix, rather something lamentable.  His face is shadowed in shame. 

“My feelings are not complicated,” you say.  He is still holding your hand in both of his.  You lay your other hand there, a complete joining. 

He meets your gaze, an intense and imploring stare.

“I’m not my father’s daughter anymore,” you say.  “I’m my husband’s wife.  My loyalty is to you.  My place is with you.”

“Yes,” he says, spoken on a breath.  His smile returns.  “Your place.  I’d say you need someone to put you in your place.  Your rightful place.” 

He springs off the bed like there is lightning under his feet.  He is all smiles and sunlight again, a beacon in the blue dark of this room.  You cannot help but bask in his warmth, bereft in the chill when he leaves your side. 

He takes something from his discarded coat pocket, a case swathed in velvet, soft to the touch.  You hold it, admiring the texture.

He kneels behind you on the bed while you open it.   Inside is the most breathtaking necklace you have ever seen in your life.  When you lift it, the chain is long, designed to sit low, loose around your neck.  No more chokers.  No more pearls. 

“Oh, Felix,” you say, breathless and amazed, then very embarrassed.  You are not used to such lovely gifts.  Even the pearls were a punishment.  “I can’t accept this…” you say, stunned.

“You can,” he says. 

He takes the clasp then strings the necklace around you.  His fingers on the nape of your neck have you shivering.  The necklace clasps in place, then his lips are on your neck, a chaste press that nonetheless lights fire under your skin.  “It was made for you,” he says.  “Like you were made for me.” 

He takes the zipper of your gown between two careful fingers, so slowly lowering it.  It feels like you are unravelling with it.  The zipper reaches the base of your spine and his fingertips dance across your bare skin. 

He steps off the bed.  He looks down at you, his eyes intense but his smile soft.  He touches your cheek, strokes his thumb across it lovingly. 

Then he is sinking to his knees in front of you.  You already feel weak as jelly, but your whole body goes soft and pliant when he gently grasps your ankle, when he slides your painful shoe off your foot and tosses it aside.  He somehow finds every sore spot and rubs it better. 

“This is how it works,” he says.  He is on his knees but somehow his presence looms bigger than you.  You cannot look away from the thrall of his gaze.  “You are my wife.  And when we are out there, I am your servant.”  He takes your other foot and removes that shoe as well.  He massages you gently.  “I will never deny you anything,” he says.  “You can ask me for anything. All right?  I will give you the whole world.  I will give you my whole heart.  In return, I only want one thing.”

“What’s that?” you ask, already breathless.

“I am your husband,” he says, “and in here, you are my servant.  Only I can touch you.  Only I will have you.  All of you.  In every way.  Always, starting from today.  Starting from right now.”    

“Yes.  Yes.  But I – I’ve never done this before,” you say, aching to surrender but fearful he will regret this.  Though you are knowledgeable, you are lacking in experience from years of isolation.  “I’ve been alone for so long,” you say.  “I don’t want to disappoint you.” 

“You don’t,” he says.  He lifts your leg, swoops down to kiss your calf, then higher: your knee, your thigh.  “You could never,” he says, guiding your leg to rest on his shoulder.  He gathers the volume of your wedding dress in his hands and pushes it up, up. 

You almost forget to breathe.  He kisses higher on your thigh.  Then he grabs the thin material of your white tights and rips them open.

“You’re mine,” he says.  “You’ve always been mine.” 

You fall back on your elbows, limbs already quivering as he tears through your underclothes as if impatiently ripping open a prettily wrapped gift.   With your expensive lace panties shredded and your tights in tatters, he pushes your skirts up and out of his way.  You hold them while he kisses up your thigh.  He runs his tongue along the seam between your thigh and somewhere much more sensitive. 

“No one else has done this to you?” he asks.  He already looks flushed.  Desperate.      

“No,” you answer.  You swallow hard.  “Never.”  You know some men do not enjoy providing this type of pleasure to their wives, so you are about to tell him that you have no expectations in that regard—

But then he is on you like a starving man, eyes closed and mouth open and licking through all that wet desire.  You fall on your back, pressing your heel into his back.  He groans, pressing deeper, tongue seeking, swiping, stroking. 

He grips your thighs possessively, holding you in place as he ravages you with his mouth.  He takes you up and over a blissful crest.  It leaves you a drenched and panting mess. 

He stands, wiping his arm across his wet mouth.  He does not look satisfied, eyes still hungry as he climbs on top of you. 

“My wife,” he says, like the word is sacred and impossible, like he thought a man like him could never say it.  “All mine,” he says, running his hands up your thighs, up your waist, touching every inch of you until he is cradling your face delicately in his careful but calloused hands.   

It makes your whole body clench up tightly, your breath stuttering as he kisses you.  You melt into the kiss, so different from the chaste peck of your ceremony.  It is a claiming kiss, the taste of you still on his lips, his moan in your mouth, his chest against yours as those sounds of pleasure rumble through him. 

He tugs down your bodice, then he is ripping through your underclothes again.   When your bodice is around your waist and your chest is bare except for his necklace, you find yourself covering your breasts instinctively.  He takes your hands, not forcefully but firmly, holding your gaze.  His mouth is already so pink and raw from kissing.  You wonder if you look as ravished.  Maybe more.  It makes you whimper, surrendering when he pins your hands on either side of your head. 

“This is mine,” he says, kissing your jaw, your throat, then lower.  “All mine, sweetheart.”

He wraps his lips around a pointed nipple and you feel the reaction between your legs, as if connected by a thread.  Your legs try to close around his hips but he presses down.  The crumpled skirt of your dress is between you, but he feels your thighs clenching, feels you desperately bucking. 

Even his chuckle is a deep sound.  He smiles at you, batting his eyelashes as he licks the curve of your breast.  Your whole body twitches again. 

“Mm,” he says.  “You feel that?  You getting all tight… and hot… just for me…”

“Felix,” you say, you beg.

He sits back on his heels to get your wedding dress off.  It is a flurry of ivory and silk, earning some laughter, then it is gone and your husband is staring down at you.   Again, you feel like prey, like a meal spread out helplessly for some predatory creature.  Again, you like it. 

He is just as impatient with his own clothes.  He does not look away from you while tearing his shirt open.  Buttons fly, forgotten, and he rips the material down his arms and off.  His belt is next, leather whistling through the air then joining the heap on the floor.  He grabs your hand and guides it to the hard shape in his white pants, groaning deep in his chest as your palm curves around it. 

You are so captivated him, by the way he feels, by the sounds he makes, that you are surprised when he touches you too.  Your legs part instinctively, then your thighs twitch to close when you are embarrassed by your eagerness. 

“Don’t be shy,” he says.  “Not with me.” His fingers feel divine inside you, gliding as if through silk, pressing at your walls and making you whimper.  “Yeah, my baby.  So nice… ‘n wet… for me…” he murmurs, more to himself than you. It still makes you clench, like your body wants him deeper, pulling tight around him.   “God.  Perfect.” 

“Aren’t we g-gonna—”  Your eyes drop to his waistband, then up to his eyes again. 

He smiles, laughs, and withdraws his fingers slowly. 

“Oh yeah, sweetheart,” he says, unbuttoning his pants.  “We are.  Be patient.  You’re gonna enjoy this.  Gonna remember this night forever.”  He leans down so his body is over yours.  He kisses you, presses you into the pillows.  When he pulls back, he traces a finger along the necklace, smiling brightly. “The first time I made you mine,” he says, speaking low and soft against your lips.   “I’m going to do everything with you,” he says.  “And you’re gonna want it.  All of it and more.” 

He has you begging for more already.  When he finally is pushing inside you, after so much torturous build-up, you are a breathless, sweaty tangle of limbs.  It feels like he is pinning you to the mattress, taking you so deep and so hard, like your whole body is changing to fit him.   There is a long, slow burn, but you are so wet and he is so careful; it is an ache that gives way to pleasure. 

His arms are around you, holding him above you, making you feel so completely shielded and enveloped.  He starts a slow pace that turns more frantic.  Your hands move all over his chest and shoulders to find a grip. 

“I love that no one else has seen you like this,” he says, grabbing your searching hand.  He brings it to his mouth, kisses your palm, your fingers.  He puts your hand on his shoulder, then he slides his hand under your head to cup your neck, holding you steady while he rolls his hips into yours.  “That no one else has felt you before,” he says.  “Been inside you. They don't get to have you, but I do.“

“Yes,” you say.  “Always.  My husband.” 

“Mm.”  He drops his forehead to yours.  “My wife.” 

You come again but it feels different, starting deep inside you and rolling outward, a full-body spasm that has you crying out his name.  He comes too, holding you against him, his lips on your neck as he says your name. 

Then he kisses you.  Then he lays you down.  He wraps you in his arms and squeezes. 

“Sleep for now,” he says.  “It’s been a long day.  And I want you again.”

“You have me,” you say, nestling in his arms, your head under his chin. 

“Yes,” he says with a smile.  He looks so sweet even while his wicked hands hold your body in a strong, possessive grip.  “I do.”      

[ronearoundblindly]

I am sorry but I'm going to need a Ransom story with this prompt. It can be RoaR or a one-off, he can love it or hate it in this space, he can see it over Reader's shoulder on the computer screen, your choice!

o.0 oh boi oh boi oh boi! Fall Vibes but it's gonna be my summer challenge submission to @the-slumberparty's Sundae Bar, featuring the flavors Cookies and Cream (soulmates) and Rocky Road (rags to riches) with the topping Oreos (marriage of convenience (reluctantly)). Also my second entry for @stargazingfangirl18's Birthday Bonenanza, featuring a babe in love and cranky about it + "can you just...hold me please?"

For Show Ransom Drysdale x poor!soulmate!reader

Summary: Ransom hates that you--his soulmate and wife--are nothing like him.

Warnings for smut and Ran's a**hole brain (rude, nasty thoughts that he barely even believes). Classic Lexi--this is cheeky, y'all, but you know it's because I can't help myself... MINORS DNI. Find all-age friendly fic on my Light Masterlist. WC 2.1k

Ran didn’t believe in love to start, but this is fucking ridiculous. Opposites attract? Get wrecked, asshole. He’s keeping opposites on the other side of the house. It’s not far enough.

It’s standard practice for the confirmation of matching soulmarks to act as a de facto marriage contract—common law, if you like,—and Ransom Drysdale fought tooth and nail to make you prove you had his name on you. He needed to see it with his own eyes or fuck that shit.

His is obvious; he can show it off. In fact, Ran is surprised by how long it took you to come forward, considering his family and status, considering his lifestyle of being very visible.

But no, he had to wait for a fucking database to pop out record of his match from your healthcare provider, and he had wait for that because the government knew about your health…because they know such things…about people who need their fucking money. The registration of soulmarks puts the financial responsibility on the soulmate if they end up having the means.

Now Ran is responsible for you, a woman he made lower the front of her panties in open court to reveal his goddamn name in his own goddamn handwriting imprinted right above her goddamn cunt, and suddenly it became his cunt, his problem, his responsibility.

You’re not even fun. You had no money and didn’t care to have any, so you moved your few, ratty belongings into his home, replacing nothing, offering nothing in return for his—well, in return for every fucking thing he has now being yours, too. It’s so fucked.

You don’t want to show off, and he has no intention of showing you off. He can’t be seen with you, not without the proper clothes or jewelry, and you refused to get them. Instead, Ransom leaves you alone in the house, doing whatever he wants, whenever he wants, as always. He won’t talk to you because he just gets furious every time. He’s not going to have deep conversations about the state of the world, though he might have one social justice issue he can fight for: the mother-fucking law that made you his wife without question.

Ran slams the kitchen cabinet storing all-white, matching stoneware mugs when he notices what’s missing: your single, sad, flea market mug. It’s clay so it always looks dirty, and he hates it.

He lightly punches his own neck in irritation.

He didn’t stand a chance fighting the marriage, not with your name in deep, port red letters creeping up his throat, higher than any turtleneck he’s ever owned. Coupled with his legal name resting snuggly beneath your pubes, it was obviously, technically accurate that you’re soulmates. When was the last time someone challenged that system, he thinks. That might be a better use of his money than—

Where are you anyway?

For all his annoyance, he hasn’t set eyes on you for days.

His house is large enough (and he spends so much time anywhere else) that you have your own room, which you didn’t question, and the kitchen is easy enough to share when one of you eats out with other people (as he does two to three times a day). You get the slightly bigger and more formal living room while Ran gets the den with the big TV. Really it’s been the perfect system for almost forgetting you exist.

He pours tea into his clean, white mug and leaves said big TV fairly loud on some program he wasn’t paying attention to, leaning over the granite countertop to see if he can spot you from this angle.

No luck.

He steps closer, sipping.

A little closer, more sipping, a purposeful smack of his lips to grab your attention if you are just around the corner.

There are two openings, both far larger than doorways, to the living room, each through the central hall. When he doesn’t immediately see you, he steps to the farther opening. What the—

What’d you do to his couch?

Is that every single pillow and blanket from your side of the house?

Did Yankee Candle Company throw up in here?

What, the fucking fireplace wasn’t enough ambiance for you? You had to make some sort of nest with his stuff? And there’s that ugly-ass mug, no coaster, on his super-expensive, reclaimed hardwood coffee table.

A pillow shifts.

No, not a pillow; it’s your back, and when you shift again, Ran sees one of the plush throw blankets slink farther down your bare skin. It’s the largest swath of your body he’s ever seen.

You lay with your arms folded, peering out the windows behind the couch, and you still haven’t fucking noticed him.

He huffs before realizing he isn’t listening to the faint TV anymore, but when he ticks his head, he sees your TV isn’t on either.

“”I think of nothing but you as I fall asleep at night”—” Ran hears a woman’s voice fake a deeper tone before switching to normal “—Javier says, pulling her soft curves into his hard body—”

You sigh dreamily and wiggle on the cushions. The blanket slides over the swell of your ass.

Ran stops moving mid-sip of tea.

“”Please, my darling, let me have you—“ this is fucking terrible, he thinks “—as only a lover can.””

Alright, now Ransom is just sad. You’re naked in his living room, rubbing your thighs together and listening to an erotic novel on your phone.

“Chloe felt his digits dance across her clavicle, his eyes enchanted by her heaving bosom…”

Go out to a club or restaurant with him? No. Wear nice clothes he could buy you? Nope.

“”Javi,” she gasps, distracted by his rough palm groping her breast hungrily, “I can’t believe you want me.””

Ran is going to fucking gag at the whining appall in the narrator’s voice.

Why listen to this awful shit instead of show off him as your husband? From the quick shiver racing down your spine and the curl of your toes where they hang over the cushion’s edge, it’s because you’re fucking horny for it.

Good god, how low are your standards?

He stalks forward, feet hitting the floor hard until he reaches the plush rug.

Startled, you peer over your shoulder at him, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights, and you begin scrambling to recover yourself.

Ran puts his cup down by yours. “Don’t move,” he orders, and to his surprise, you obey, keeping you head turned his direction and sinking back into the pillows.

“”How could you doubt? From the moment I met you, I adored you.””

He swivels to face the same direction as you, reaches out his hand and mime the stroke he’s contemplating tracing over your curves.

“”I’m yours,” Chloe breathes, Javier’s growing member signaling his desire against her silk-covered core.”

Ran finally bends until the tip of his middle finger grazes the inside of your thigh.

As he drags it over one cheek and down the other, you whine and push your ass toward his hand.

That’s…not bad, all things considered. You are his wife, after all, and you clearly want to be fucked. He won’t argue that having some other woman’s name scrawled on him hasn’t limited his game for quite a while. Financially independent or not, when a pussy is presented to him, Ransom will say ‘yes.’

He stops noticing the audio from your phone and just dives in, no sentiments or kind words of his own. He simply unbuckles his belt, pops the button of this jeans, and rips that zipper down before teasing your folds to find enough slick at your entrance to swirl around. He spreads you and your wetness with purpose. Each second that passes drives Ransom a little bit more insane.

Impatient, strung out like a virgin on prom night, he rushes to shove his pants out of the way and kicks one knee up between your legs, his other foot still on the floor. He pumps his fingers inside you until he’s knuckle-deep and nearly dripping, manhandling your hips to the right height to sink his tip into you.

Ran groans at how fucking good you feel. He’s probably just desperate. He’d be excited about any ol’ means to come right now.

He snaps his hips in small thrusts until his whole length glides in and out in seamless stimulation. You’ve buried your face in the pillow, so he can’t hear if you make any noise. He can, however, see your hands scratch at the upholstery and clench into fists. He can see you deepen the arch of your back, angling his dick to fuck just slightly down through your channel. The pressure squeezes the spongy head of his cock like a vice. He’ll never say it out loud, but your pussy is fucking perfect. God fucking dammit.

Ransom relentlessly drives into you, catching the sideview of your breasts bouncing each time his thighs slap yours. He smacks your ass once just to see if it jiggles for him, and that’s when your hand snakes to disappear between your legs. He expects you’re going for your clit which is good because he’s about to get off and get lost, but instead, he feels your soft fingers cup his balls.

He’s so enamored by the sensation that he switches to tiny pulses deep in your cunt while your hand wraps and rolls his sac gently. Twitching and tensing, Ran unabashedly moans until your walls constrict around his length.

He’s got to make you do that again.

Ransom collapses forward to lean over you, his own hand diving to find your clit, resting his palm right over your mound and soulmark. Every inch of his body burns hot with need. He humps wildly, resting his chin over your shoulder.

“”I don’t care how, Javi, just stick it in there. I need you. I need you so badly…””

“Jesus Christ,” Ran growls, “are they still not fucking?”

A giggle bursts from your lips, a sweet, happy sound he’s never heard from you before, and you reach for him. Your palm lands on his soulmark, your fingers curling to scratch the hairs at the nape of his neck, and there’s…there’s…

He can’t comprehend how your body fits his so well. He can’t reconcile this sudden swell of obsession in his gut for you. He’s enveloped in a binary system of souls, gravity tugging at that connection between you.

Ran doesn’t believe in love or destiny. He refuses. He believes in pleasure and perception, in accumulation and ownership.

The only thought left in his static-filled head is mine, mine, mine, mine.

He falls over the edge first, a satisfied shout punctuating each spurt he plants within you, furiously working your messy clit and kneading one breast in his free hand until he feels that squeeze again, and again, and again, dying to a flutter just as your shared cum leaks out around his cock.

By this time, Ran is panting and resting a sizable portion of his weight on you, knees knocked loose in his onslaught, pushing you both flat to the chaise cushion, feet dangling off the end.

You still hold each other’s mark in a comforting palm.

He’s speechless as the room fills with heated love declarations amidst passionate sex and bad dialogue. Ran tries to catch his fucking breath. He’s glad you don’t speak either.

Everything about his life—his past, his present, his future—sits utterly raw in front of him, and he can’t cope.

He makes the mistake of peeling his body off yours, releasing you and dislodging your hand. The cold emptiness which immediately sweeps over him is sickening, and Ran barely waits for you to roll onto your back before he wedges himself between your legs again, instinctually laying on his side, pressing his sweater-clad shoulder against your sopping folds just so he can rest his soulmark right on top of yours.

Euphoria returns to his body and mind, thick like honey and all-consuming.

He doesn’t want to admit it. He doesn’t want to talk about. He doesn’t want to live a moment without you.

Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.

Mercifully, the audio speaks for him.

“”Can you just…hold me please? That was…that was…””

“”So intense,” Javier rumbles, “so beautiful.””

Ransom, the preening trust fund baby, has finally found something all his own, something he doesn’t want to share, something shown only for him.

He refuses, however, to call it ‘love’…

…yet.

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

A/N: I'm fine.

[yuikomorii]

Happy Birthday, Ayato! ❤️

// Today is the golden boy’s birthday!! Sweet and spicy visual god, you are the reason of my unattainablly high standards… and also of my questionable financial decisions, lol.

This looks more like an Ayayui shrine than an individual Ayato one, but I couldn’t fit all the items in one pic, therefore I chose the ones that were the easiest to find in my room. :”)

Nevertheless… I did try to prepare a SCENARIO too! I used my nsfw edit as the cg, although I didn’t show everything. The romantic part is really cheesy and cringe, but if you’re into fluff, you will like that. 💕💕

~Operation: Ayato-kun’s birthday~

Yui: ( Haa… it feels as if there’s no ending to these anymore… )

( I woke up earlier today, hoping to finish all these exercises, yet I really can’t bring myself to understand how to solve them at all…! )

( My mind is completely in a whole different place right now. Today is Ayato-kun’s birthday after all. )

( Unfortunately, all the assignments kept me so busy this week that I wasn’t even able to bake a cake for him… )

( However, it’s still not too late for that, right? )

( Once I’m done with this page, I will definitely try my best to prepare it as soon as po—)

Reiji: Komori Yui, are you slacking again?

Yui: …!

R-Reiji-san!

( Oh no, he picked up my notebook! )

Reiji: Good grief, there are mistakes everywhere! Do I need to remind you that you are not permitted to bring disgrace upon the Sakamaki family as long as you reside under this mansion's roof?

Yui: Uuh… I-I’m really sorry, Reiji-san. I promise I’ll—

Reiji: Silence. I recently received your report card as well, and I must admit that I’m not pleased with your performance in the slightest. I was expecting such indifference from my brothers, but it’s rather disheartening for a human girl not to care about her education.

Yui: Y-You got it wrong! It’s not like I don’t care about school, but… simply put, the teachers have been giving us much too many tasks lately, and I find them quite difficult to solve, which stresses me out a little, to be honest.

Reiji: Hmph, excuses. I find it incomprehensible how such simple exercises cause you mental difficulties.

Nevertheless, I shall teach you then. Even if it requires the whole day to achieve that.

Yui: You will? Woah, thank you so much, Re— W-Wait, no! We can’t do that today!

Reiji: Pardon? Are you rejecting my offer to tutor you?

Yui: No, no! Not at all! It’s just that today is Ayato-kun’s birthday, and well… I would obviously want to celebrate it with him.

Reiji: Denied.

Yui: Eh—?

Reiji: You truly are a fool. Vampires show no interest in the day of their birth. Now, take a sit.

Yui: …

( I know Reiji-san is not in the wrong, but… I really do want to celebrate Ayato-kun’s birthday. That day may not be special to him but it’s so special to me. )

( Am I being selfish, I wonder…? )

*Timeskip*

Reiji: It appears that you’re finally able to understand how to solve this exercise. The next ones are similar to it, therefore there shouldn’t be any obstacles.

Yui: Yes, I see…

( I appreciate Reiji-san’s help, yet too many hours have passed by and baking a cake from scratch is not possible anymore… )

Place: Living room

Yui: ( Hmm… apparently I still have enough pocket money to buy a cake. I know a self-made one would have been more meaningful, but I really couldn’t… )

Kanato: Yui-san, are you spacing out?

Yui: Eh—? Ah, Kanato-kun, I didn’t see you there. I’m fine, but I’m a bit in a hurry, so… see y— Kya!

( He grabbed my wrist! )

Kanato: You’re going to buy a cake for my brother, aren’t you?

Yui: Uhh… well yes, I mean, it’s his birthday after all.

Kanato: My birthday was yesterday and I didn’t see you get any cake for me, nor for Laito. Teddy thinks you forgot about us. Tell me, Yui-san, is that true?

Yui: T-that’s not it!

Kanato: So you’re going to buy a cake for me as well after all? I might forgive you if you do that.

Yui: ( What did I get myself into…! I’m sure Kanato-kun will throw a tantrum if I say “no”. )

But… I don’t think I got enough money for two cakes.

Kanato: Please don’t worry about that, Yui-san, I know my ways. Or what, are you doubting me now?

Yui: …!

— shakes head —

Kanato: Good, now let’s go.

Place: Demon World Cake shop

Yui: Woah, I’ve never seen such big cakes before!

Kanato: Please don’t shout. Your looks already make you resemble a servant, you don’t have to act like one as well.

Yui: ( Hey, that’s mean! )

Cake shop owner: Welcome, how can I help you?

Yui: We’re searching for a birthday cake, but uhm… one a bit smaller than the ones displayed here, if possible.

Cake shop owner: Any flavor you got in mind?

Yui: ( Speaking of flavor, I don’t think Ayato-kun has ever told me anything about his favorite. He would probably say Takoyaki but a Takoyaki cake… that doesn’t feel right. )

I think he likes straw—

Kanato: Raspberry!

Cake shop owner: Wonderful! We just finished a raspberry cake a few minutes ago!

— brings cake —

Yui: ( It truly looks delicious…! Besides, it’s red as well, which is Ayato-kun’s favorite color, so I believe he would truly like this one! )

Kanato: Alright, we’ll take it!

Place: Mansion

Yui: Phew, I’m glad the cake didn’t get crushed on the way.

Kanato: It’s time to eat!

Yui: Wha—! No, Kanato-kun, you can’t!

Kanato: Excuse me, but who do you think you are? This is my cake, therefore I’m allowed to eat it whenever I want!

Yui: W-Well, don’t you want to wait for Ayato-kun too? This way, you two will be able to eat it together like bro—!!

(He pushed me in the cake!?)

Kanato-kun, why did you do this!?

Kanato: You ruined the cake!

Yui: Me!? But Kanato-kun was the one who pushed me there!

Kanato: Teddy says you’re annoying, and I agree. Now how will you fix your mistakes?

Yui: ( I can barely see anything…! )

Kanato: Fufu, look at her Teddy! She’s full of cake from head to toe! Now, let’s give it a taste che—

Yui: You can’t!

— moves cake away from him —

Kanato: I can!

— moves cake back —

Yui: No!

— moves cake away —

Kanato: Hmph, just give up already, will you!?

— pushes her away —

Yui: Wait, no—!!!

???: Oi, what the—!

— cake falls on them —

Kanato: Noooo, the cake!!!! Ngh, this is no fun anymore!

Yui: Uuh… Why is the floor so soft…?

Ayato: ‘Cause it’s not the floor, you idiot.

Yui: Ah! A-Ayato-kun!

Uhh… Happy birthday…~?

Ayato: Geez, c’mere, you’re an even bigger mess.

— picks her up —

Place: Bathroom

Yui: ( This is so embarrassing…! )

Ayato: Haa… You’re finally not covered in cake anymore.

Yui: I… I’m sorry…

Ayato: Huh? What are you apologizing for? I’m not mad that you dropped that cake on me.

Yui: That’s not the only thing I’m sorry about…

If it weren’t for my carelessness, you would have gotten a nice birthday, but now… you don’t even have a cake anymore.

( Ah, I’m feeling as if I’m about to cry right now… )

Ayato: Hey, c’mon that’s not worth the tears. I’m a vampire, remember? I don’t care about my birthday, so there’s no need to worry about such stuff.

Yui: Maybe you don’t care about it but… I do. I know that I’m about to sound selfish, but your birthday is very special to me. It represents the day you were born and I… I simply can’t imagine not celebrating it.

Ayato-kun is important to me, therefore that automatically makes his birthday important to me too.

Ayato: You klutz…

— hugs her —

Yui: W-Wha—! Ayato-kun…!

Ayato: Seriously, are all humans really that sentimental? Or does this only apply to cute girls like you?

Yui: …!

(He… he called me cute! )

— blushes —

Ayato: The day’s still not over, y’know? There’s still time to celebrate it if you’re really that obsessed with it.

Yui: …! So, are you really okay with that?

Ayato: Yeah? If I weren’t, I would have told you, idiot. On top of that, it’s not like I got anything better to do anyway.

Now tell me, Chichinashi, what exactly do you have in store for today?

Yui: Hm… uhm… nothing comes to my mind at the moment, but for now… I can’t say I mind spending time like this with Ayato-kun.

Ayato: Heh~? You suddenly don’t mind being in my arms while naked?

Yui: P-Phrasing it like that…!

Ayato: Well, if that’s the case, then… you wouldn’t mind if I sucked your blood either, right?

Yui: Go ahead.

Ayato: Hah? No talking back? Are you really that easy to convince today? Or, could it be that you finally admit enjoying the pleasure these fangs give you?

Yui: It’s not only about your fangs, Ayato-kun. I really like you as a whole.

I wasn’t even able to find a gift for you, therefore giving you my blood is the least I can do.

Ayato: Heh, I see… I don’t need your blood as a gift though.

Yui: You don’t…?

Ayato: Nope, ‘cause I already got the best gift ever.

Yui: Is that so?

( Did someone already give him something for his birthday? If that’s the case, then who could it be? )

( Ah… I guess I’m just overthinking, but now I’m really curious. )

Ayato: You really wanna know, don’t you? It’s already written on your face.

Are you getting jealous~?

Yui: T-That’s…—!

Ayato: Pfft, you really did get jealous, huh?

Yui: ( Ugh… he’s making fun of me now! )

Ayato: Anyway, there’s no need to. After all, the best gift I’ve ever gotten…

It’s you, Yui.

— Smooch —

The end

[intuitively-her]

How will this school/career year go for you?

Pile 1-(5 of cups, 3 of swords, 2 of swords, The Magician rx, Justice, 10 of pentacles, 9 of pentacles)

This school year will be a huge lesson for you. You’ll learn a lot about yourself. You’ve got some untapped potential. Someone here could be an art major or you’re interested. You may have a lot of interests or curiosity about different subjects. Whatever it is, look into it! Don’t be scared to learn new things or get involved in study/social groups. Try something different! It would be beneficial for you academically and socially. For someone here, you may face some disappointment in regards to school. It feels like you tried out for something or put in an application and things just didn’t go as expected. It just feels like a rejection from something. But that’s okay! There’s something better for you. There will be many situations where you’ll be faced with a dilemma, and it’ll be up to you to make the right decisions. Spirit needs to see if you’ve learned from your past lessons. There will be many moments where you’ll be faced with an obstacle. Don’t let this scare you tho! This is all to build you up into the person you’re meant to be. This year will teach you more about adulting and having to stand on your own two feet. You will be harvesting the fruits of your labor. Your hard work will not go to waste.

Pile 2-(Temperance, The Hermit, The High Priestess, Page of pentacles, The Moon, 2 of cups rx, Knight of cups rx, 4 of wands)

This year will cause you to look within and do a lot of self-work. You’re starting to realize that certain mindsets, habits, and environments don’t serve you anymore. This is your self-improvement era. I see you spending more time by yourself and getting your sh*t together. You’re working to have more balance in your life. I also see you rejecting love offers and may even be in this heartbreaker energy. It feels like you wanna put more focus into the people closest to you and what truly matters. So more power to you! Apply yourself to new subjects or activities that you’d like to learn. I see you really being on your grind with this. This will also lead to an increase in financial opportunities. You’re gonna follow your intuition and inner-knowing more (or you need to) You know exactly what’s right for you, so trust it! Look at the bigger picture in situations. You will start seeing people/situations for what they really are.

Pile 3-(The Emperor, Queen of wands, Ace of wands, 8 of swords, The Hanged man, Wheel of fortune, Ace of swords, Justice)

You will be presented with many opportunities to help you excel in your studies. This will open so many doors for you. You could feel trapped right now, or like you can’t be your true self. Everything will be okay babe. I see a sudden turn of events for you. Many of the cards I pulled have snakes on them, which signify rebirth and transformation. Think of yourself as a snake shedding its skin right now. This is gonna be a huge breakthrough for you. You will have a clear vision of what you want and who you want to be. You’ll see everything from a higher perspective. This new shift will really cause you to toughen up. You will also be more open and confident. I see you having more discipline with yourself and others. You will be living a more structured lifestyle. You’re stepping into a leader energy. Get outta that shell and let you creativity/passions lead you to where you’re supposed to be.

Pile 4-(10 of wands, 8 of wands rx, The Magician rx, The World rx, Knight of pentacles, Ace of pentacles, 6 of pentacles, 9 of pentacles, The Star)

You might be at a point where you feel like you’ve hit a wall. Things might be feeling stagnant right now and as if your efforts are going to waste. Use this time to recharge, because things are about to take off for you! You won’t have time to rest. I heard “booked and busy”. This feels like fame that happens overnight. Maybe some content of yours will go viral or a piece of your work will get noticed by someone very important. This is gonna bring in a lot of abundance for you. I also feel like this is gonna boost your notoriety in your work environment, especially if it’s social media related. Spirit sees how hardworking and committed you’ve been to your craft. This is their reward.

[magics-neptunes-things]

Stay With Me

Hi guys!

I've got a lot of request for a new Luna one (one, two, three, four, five) so here it is :)

Enjoy ♥

TW : Mention of injury, a little bit of angst, massive fluff

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Back in the hotel room that Lucy shares with Ona after her morning walk, the English woman can only smile in front of the view that offers itself to her. Ona, sitting at the small desk in the bedroom, is deeply focused on the screen of her laptop that she insisted to take with her. And for good reason, the young fullback, in addition to being a professional footballer, has embarked herself on financial studies and is currently in full revision. Not a lot of people know that the Catalan started it. It was something she started in back in Manchester and that she's still working on.

But what makes Lucy smile is Ona's concentrated face and her slight frown. She putted on her glasses, her hair is loose and she’s so focused on her notes that she doesn't even realize that Lucy has just entered the room. If Lucy hadn't found her girlfriend so attractive as she is right now, she would probably have pouted.

Ona finally notices Lucy's presence, but she doesn't leave the screen with her eyes. It’s only through her smirk that Lucy knows she’s been spotted. But this doesn't prevent the brunette from putting her two hands on the back of Ona’s chair, trying to decipher Ona’s notes taking in Spanish, over her shoulder.

"Hello there" whispers Lucy, laying a kiss on Ona’s neck, making her shiver. "You’ll have to finish soon Sweetheart, we’re going to leave for the stadium"

Ona responds with a simple throat noise, finishing to write her sentence as well as she can since Lucy has laid a new kiss on her neck and now her lips are slowly rising towards her neck.

"Lucy" warns Ona, smiling anyway.

Ona was going to ask her girlfriend to behave herself, but suddenly there are teeth against her skin and brain short circuit.

"Mh?"

"If you continue, it won’t be my studies that will make us late"

Lucy laughs softly but retreats, offering her hand to help Ona to get up.

"I can’t help it. These glasses are doing things to me"

Ona rolls her eyes but faces her after getting up, passing her arms around Lucy’s neck for a delicate kiss. But it's quickly interrupted by strong knocks to the door and the perfectly recognizable voice of miss Putellas.

"Lucy Bronze, take your dirty hands off my sweet Ona and come down, it’s time!"

If Lucy grumble, Ona laughs softly as she hears the voice and the words of their captain. Alexia has always been very supportive and sweet about their relationship, Ona still remembers perfectly the comfort she found in the blonde when she found herself facing Lucy's reaction at the end of the World Cup final. Alexia had put her arm around her shoulders and reassured her, advising her to give Lucy time to digest things.

And she was right. When Ona took a second shy approach in Lucy’s direction after handing over the cup, it was Lucy who took the Spanish in her arms and apologized at length for her reaction. Then came the moment between the two girls that the photographers immortalized, the rest of the world far from suspecting that the two young women were in reality already in love for several months.

********

A few hours later, the two women are on the football field, playing the final of the Champions League. The game being played in Portugal, many Barcelona fans made the trip and are easily recognizable thanks to their colors. The ambient noise is particularly high, but this doesn't prevent Ona from being fully focused on her game.

The stress and pre-game pressure gave way to a determination without fail. After a short stint in the middle of the season with all the matches they had to play, Ona regained her usual form and quality of play.

Barcelona led only 2-1 in the sixtieth minute, despite a Barcelona domination. Frustration begins to be felt by the opposing team, which can't pass the midfield and the wall formed by the Barcelona's defense.

Ona will need to review the images to understand what really happened, but what she knows is that she finds herself suddenly on the ground with a radiating pain in her knee after one of the opposing players has fallen on her. Or rather, Ona will realize it by reviewing the images, fall on her knee with her boot first.

Ona’s cry of pain echoes throughout the stadium and Lucy feels her blood freeze in her veins. Despite being located on the other side of the field, Lucy is the second to join Ona, only Alexia who was nearby has done faster than her. Between the fact that they speak too fast in Catalan and that Ona’s voice is distorted by pain, the English woman has a hard time understanding what they were saying.

However, when she hears Alexia talk about ACL, she is not far from the malaise.

"It's her ACL?" Lucy asks in a scared voice.

"I don’t know" whispers Ona, her breathing difficult.

Lying on her side, her face hidden in her arm, the pain seems to be difficult to bear. Lucy knows perfectly well that Ona is far from sensitive to pain.

Crouching at the head of Ona, Alexia asks the questions instead of the nurses of the club yet came to take care of the Catalan. Too absorbed by her girlfriend’s twisted pain face, Lucy finds it hard to focus on anything else. When the nurses ask Ona to roll on her back, Lucy grabs her hand and doesn't release it when she perhaps should have. But Ona grab it and squeeze it hard anyway.

Neither of them have done what people like to call a "hard lunch", but they don’t hide either. Lucy has never been one to appreciate the demarcations of affection in public, they have never had too "strong" gestures. Even if she must admit that the English woman quickly succumbed to the constant need to be physically close to Ona.

A few minutes later, Ona sat down and seems reassured by hearing the different sentences made by the nurses. Their voices more posed than Alexia’s earlier allows Lucy to understand that a rupture of the ligaments seems to be excluded, but that Ona will have an impressive bruised.

"We can put stitches, if you want" the nurse proposes by carefully observing Ona’s numerous wound.

"I’m going to have to get out of the field and get substitute for that, right?" mutters Ona.

"Yes" simply answers the nurse

"Can I keep playing like this without the stitches?"

"Yes" answers again her interlocutor after a split second "But we will protect it correctly. And it is obviously on condition that you can walk"

"Ona…" gently makes Lucy.

She obviously understands Ona’s mindset, she too would be gutted to leave a Champions League final on injury. But it’s obviously out of the question for Lucy to let the woman she loves take risks. The two women only need an exchange of eyes to understand each other.

"I can do it, I feel it" promises Ona in a tone that she hopes will be soothing.

Lucy observes her attentively for a few seconds, her eyes plunged into Ona's chocolate eyes that she adores more than anything, before simply nodding.

The other two teams took advantage of this break to go to drink, the Spanish ones after obviously making sure that things were going well for Ona, so Lucy decides to stay next to Ona while her bandage is put in place.

"I’m sorry. I panicked a bit" Ona mutters to Lucy as the last bandage is put in to hold the protection around her knee.

"Me too" confesses Lucy without leaving her eyes.

The English takes the place of the second nurse and helps Ona to get up, her hands close to the young woman when she's up, ready to catch her at the slightest sign of weakness. But after testing several movements, Ona nods to the staff.

"I think I’m okay" breath Ona.

But Lucy still takes care of accompanying behind the line so the match can resume. And, without really realizing what she is doing, leans over Ona to kiss her before leaving. When it hits her, Lucy changes direction at the last moment and her lips settle at the corner of Ona’s, who feels her breath stop briefly under the surprise.

A split second later, Lucy turned around to take her place back on the pitch, hoping no cameras weren’t turned in their direction. (They totally were)

About thirty minutes later, the whistles announcing the end of the game rang out. Salma managed to secure the team’s lead by scoring a third goal, so the victory did not escape them. And it’s therefore with a joy hardly measurable that Ona wins her first Champions League. If she directly crosses Lucy’s gaze to whom she addresses a big smile, it’s Ingrid who takes her first in her arms, the Norwegian woman jumping in the arms of the first teammate near her.

The ceremony cup gives Ona the impression of walking on a cloud. She’s simply unable to stay away from Lucy during these moments, not knowing if she will spend at least an extra season in Barcelona. Lucy never extend her contracts, each time wishing to see what other places have to offer to her. Ona knows that an extension has been offered to her, just as she knows that Manchester City, Lyon or even American teams are interested in her.

If the idea of returning to a long-distance relationship like they were before last summer seems possible if Lucy leaves for Lyon or Manchester, the idea of being separated from her by an entire ocean and different time zones terrifies her. She's terrified that Lucy can lose interest with her and their relationship. But she never talked to Lucy about it, obviously not wishing to be a brake on her career.

The fullback decides to push these thoughts into a corner of her head for the moment, preferring to focus on the celebrations and the present moment. However, Lucy doesn't miss the dreaming look of her girlfriend when she watches the golden confetti falling from the sky.

Not resisting the urge to be with her, Lucy approaches Ona, signaling her presence by placing a light hand in the hollow of her back. Quickly leaving her observation, Ona addresses a tender smile to her girlfriend who gives it back to her.

"Are you okay?" asks Lucy, again almost disconcerted as she dives into Ona’s eyes.

Her chocolate eyes now seem glittered with gold, reflecting the sparkle of confetti around them.

"Perfectly" assures Ona with a small smile, even though the pain in her knee seems to wake up now that the adrenaline is slowly passing. "You?"

"Better than ever"

Ona’s smile is magnified by seeing the real joy on Lucy’s face. The Hispanic has often teased Lucy by seeing her not taking advantage of the wins at the moment and immediately focusing on the next game, but tonight looks different.

"We were close to the hard launch" comments Ona, once again looking up at the confetti that still fall from the sky.

Her amused smile, however, makes Lucy widely understood that she’s not angry and that it even amuses her a lot. These stories of "hard launch" and "soft launch" having become a kind of running gag between them. Lucy laughs and rolls her eyes, giving her a little playful hip kick.

"Don’t be an ass. I was really worried about you"

"It would have been a shame if it was me coming out on an injury because of her knee, between both of us. I was afraid you couldn’t get up when you knelt next to me earlier" Ona tease.

"I will kneel in front of you as often as I can" smirk Lucy, bowing her eyebrows with a playful look to the implication of her sentence.

Ona obviously doesn’t need any further explanation but gives her a playful slap on the arm in return. The noise around them prevents anyone within fifty centimeters of them from hearing what they are saying and in any case everyone is too busy celebrating or chatting with other people.

"I'll always be here to help you getting up"

Lucy smiles again before biting her lower lip, looking closely at her girlfriend. She knows that the next words she says will surely trigger something, positive or negative. But it’s been a few days since her decision for the rest of her career has been made and she simply can’t keep the information to herself anymore. And it doesn’t matter if it’s not the right time.

"Well you can continue to do it on the pitches next year, by the way"

It takes a few seconds for Ona to understand what this sentence implies and she feels her heart miss a beat, mixture of joy and fear of having misunderstood.

"What?"

"I extended my contract"

"Lucy…"

Ona feels silly when tears tickle her eyes under Lucy’s watchful gaze, and even before she can do anything, they are already threatening to overflow.

"Is it real?"

"Yes" replies Lucy smiling, before adding almost timidly "I stay with you"

Ona’s cheeks are wet with tears when she jumps into her arms, pressing her face against hers before kissing her. Smiling against her lips, Lucy passed her arms around Ona’s waist to secure her and prevent her from falling. They will finally last a year and a half before one of their kisses is made public and that it probably formalizes their relationship in the eyes of people.

"Hard launch" grins Lucy.

And even if the gesture will be long teased by their teammates, it doesn’y matter for either of them. What does, however, is the happiness they both feel at this moment.

"I was so afraid of losing you" Ona confesses without really taking off from Lucy, however finding her two feet on the ground again.

"It will never happen, even if all the oceans of the world separate us, Ona. I promise."

[c-e-d-dreamer]

Top Shelf Love: Chapter One

A/N: yeah, yeah, I know! This is super exposition-y, but we have to set it all up, besties! I promise Cassian and Nesta actually interact again in the next chapter 🫡 Also, for anyone who's nerdy like me, the Athletic has a really great article about just how complicated things get when a player gets traded. It's a fun read!

Read on AO3 // Chapter Masterlist // Previous Part // Next Part

Cassian

Cassian groans, tossing his phone on the coffee table, the device skittering across the wood without a care. He drops his head against the back of the sofa, digging his hands into his hair and dragging his fingers against the curly strands. He still can’t quite wrap his mind around it, and he half wonders if he’s imagining this entire phone call, but the tinny voice continues through the speaker even if he’s no longer listening.

Seattle.

He got traded to the Seattle Kraken.

The words continue to crash and echo in his mind, even as his agent goes through the usual spiel when trades happen. Expect a call from the coach, maybe even a few players will reach out once the news breaks. The Kraken’s director of team services will reach out with the finer details for a smooth transition. Reminders of the CBA mandates. Meetings with the trainers, the equipment team, and the coaching staff to look forward to. Practice schedule. It’s like information overload, a hurricane swirling through his head with hundred mile per hour winds.

It doesn’t help that his phone has already started to vibrate against the table, almost excessively. With a quiet huff that thankfully his agent doesn’t pick up on, already plowing forward into the exciting potential for re-signing with Seattle, Cassian snatches his phone back up. He minimizes the call screen and looks at his notifications. Of course. The news has already broken on Twitter. Damn ‘insiders.’

“Any questions for me, Cassian? Anything I can do for you?”

Cassian has to shake his head, clearing his still spiraling thoughts, before he finds his voice. “All good, Eris. That’s how the off season goes, right?”

Eris is quiet for a moment. “I’ll send a car to take you to the airport. A nicer one than the team would send.”

With that, the line clicks, and Cassian tosses his phone away again, this time face down. He doesn’t even want to look at what’s being said, at the speculation. Sure, the Rangers hadn’t had the best season, the ending more heartbreak than anything else. Sure, he only has one year left on his contract. Sure, the front office wants draft picks to help build up the farm system with young blood.

But still, Cassian never expected this. Never expected this was how his time with the team would end. Never expected this was how his time in New York City would end.

Sighing softly, he glances around his apartment. The high ceilings, the modern, open kitchen, the tall windows and the amazing skyline view that the thirty-first floor offers. He really did love this place, a far cry from the streets he’d grown up on, and a reminder of how far he'd come from those very streets. He supposes he’ll have to sell it now. Is it worth keeping just for the off season?

The sound of Cassian’s phone ringing is loud in his otherwise quiet apartment. It seems to echo off the walls as though taunting him. He’s half tempted to ignore it all together, but despite the unknown number displayed on the screen when he checks, the location is listed as Seattle. Not the best first impression to send his new team to voicemail. Another sigh and Cassian squares his shoulders, sliding his thumb across the screen to answer.

The man on the other end of the line introduces himself and exchanges a few pleasantries, but then he’s diving right in to more specifics. The nitty gritty of a trade. Flight details. Financials and reimbursements. Rental car when he lands. Taxes.

Cassian only half listens, making sure he makes the affirmative sounds at the appropriate breaks in conversation. This isn’t his first rodeo. Although, he had still been in the farm system when his last trade happened. This is certainly different, but Cassian knows he thankfully won’t have to deal with most of this. He’ll give the director of team services Eris’s number, and let him deal with all the numbers and everything. It’s why he pays him the big bucks after all.

As soon as the call ends, Cassian’s phone lights up and starts ringing again. He wants to pull his own hair out as that incessant sound fills his apartment. He knows how this goes, but he’d give anything for just a moment of peace, a moment to really sit with his thoughts and everything that’s just happened. He considers turning his phone off, letting all the calls go to voicemail, at least for a few hours, but then he sees the name displayed on the screen.

“I take it you saw the news?” Cassian says by way of greeting.

“Need a drink?” Rhysand’s voice carries down the line.

Cassian chuckles, already pushing up to his feet. “You have no idea. But you better be breaking out the good shit from your fancy cellar.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just get your ass over here.”

Just the short conversation, the teasing tone of his chosen brother, has Cassian feeling lighter already. He grabs his wallet and shoves it into his pocket, tugging a ball cap down over his curls. Summer still clings to the city despite the first day of fall barely a few days away, but the breeze that dances between the buildings promises cooler temperatures to come. Cassian takes the subway up toward Central Park, the rocking of the car over the tracks strangely a lulling balm over his nerves.

The doorman offers Cassian a nod and a friendly hello in greeting when he arrives at the building, holding the door open for him to stroll inside. The receptionist at the front desk does the same, barely casting Cassian a cursory glance as he heads for the elevators. He quickly punches in the code and steps inside, riding up and up and up, all the way to the penthouse.

Feyre is waiting for Cassian as soon as the elevator doors open, stepping forward and wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. “I’m so sorry.”

Cassian chuckles but he wraps his own arms around Feyre’s shoulders nonetheless. “I’m not dying, Fey. I just got traded.”

“I know, but traded across the country,” Feyre continues, pulling back enough that she can peer up at Cassian with an overdramatic pout. “I’m losing my partner in crime. Who will join me in bullying Rhys now?”

“You’re right,” Cassian tells her, nodding his head with faux solemness. “I’m so sorry you’ll be stuck on the east coast all alone with Rhys’s stupid face.”

“Stupid face? And here I broke out the good wine for your sorry ass.”

Cassian tosses his head back and laughs. He steps away from Feyre and walks over to Rhys, clapping his brother on the shoulder. “I expect nothing less.”

Rhys rolls his eyes, but he leads the way into the kitchen, three wine glasses and a bottle already arranged on the large kitchen island. He pours the wine into each glass, but Cassian grabs the bottle, examining the label with an appreciative hum.

“I don’t know why you’re making that sound,” Rhys comments dryly, taking a sip of his drink.

“Who cares about that?” Feyre cuts in, waving a dismissive hand at her fiancé and leaning against the kitchen island, her attention solely on Cassian. “Are you excited for Seattle?”

Cassian hums, swirling his wine around the glass. “They’re definitely building a good team out there. Strong top line. And I’ve heard good things about playing under Miller.”

“But…?”

“There’s no but, it’s just…” Cassian sighs softly, pulling his cap off to run his fingers through his hair. “It just sucks because everyone’s here, out east. You guys are always here or in Montreal. Mor’s here in New York. Even Az isn’t that far in Nashville. I won’t know anyone out west.”

“Yeah, but you’ll have the guys on the team. You know they’ll have all the best spots in town to recommend,” Rhys reminds him.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“My sister lives out in Seattle!” Feyre jumps in to add, blue eyes bright.

Cassian frowns. “Doesn’t Elain live in Toronto with Lucien?”

“Not Elain. My other sister. Nesta. You’ve met her.”

Nesta.

Cassian is sure he’d remember if he met Nesta Archeron. He still remembers when Feyre had posted the photos from Elain’s wedding last month to her Instagram, the way his mouth had slackened at the sight of who he was sure was the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. With the purple, silky fabric of the bridesmaid dress clinging perfectly to her every curve, golden brown strands of hair swept away from her face in an intricate updo, she was breathtaking.

But it was her expression in the photos that had really drawn Cassian in. There was something about it. Something about her. Something about the way that even though she was smiling in the photo, there was still a challenge, a dare, burning in her stormy blue eyes and the pinch of her brow. And Cassian had never backed down from a dare. He was sure one look from her had sent many men to their knees, sent them fleeing for the hills before she could cut them down where they stood, but Cassian? Cassian wanted to drive head first into that fire.

“I don’t think I’ve met her,” Cassian offers, but he doesn’t tell Feyre just how much he wishes he had.

“But she was at our engagement party in May,” Feyre continues, but when Cassian only shrugs in response, she merely sighs. “Whatever. The point is that she lives in Seattle. I can give you her number if you want. Then, you’ll at least know someone out there when you get there. And I’m sure she’d be more than happy to show you around.”

Cassian thinks about it. He thinks back to those photos on Feyre’s Instagram, thinks about the photos he had seen when he stalked Nesta’s own Instagram after he clicked the tagged account. Thinks of those stormy blue eyes and the tilt of her lips in a smirk behind the rim of a wine glass. Thinks of the stories Feyre has told him, of the stubborn and fierce older sister who all but eviscerated Feyre’s ex, Tamlin.

“Yeah… yeah, that’d be good. Just so I know someone out there.”

~ * * * ~

Nesta

Nesta sighs softly, but she reaches down, fingers curling beneath cardboard. Her arms protest at the weight, but she hefts the box up, shuffling the few steps to add it to the organized chaos that’s their backroom. For a moment, her attention dances back toward her phone where she left it on another box, but she pointedly left it face down for a reason. She doesn’t need to look at the text messages waiting for her again.

Feyre 1:18pm Remember Cassian? Rhys’ brother that I told you all about? 😉 He’s coming to Seattle! I gave him your number. Show him around for me? Please?

Unknown number 4:43pm Hey, Nesta. This is Cassian. Feyre gave me your number. I’m moving out to Seattle soon. Maybe we can meet up?

“So, let me get this straight. The Cassian is moving to Seattle?”

Nesta snorts softly, peering toward where Gwyn is sprawled across the floor, iPad balanced against her knees. “We’re calling him the Cassian now?”

“I prefer to call him the douchey hockey player,” Emerie comments idly, placing the box in her own arms down. She swipes up the box cutter from the metal shelf to her left, making quick, efficient work of the tape keeping the box closed.

“And are you imagining douchey hockey player’s balls there?” Gwyn teases, looking meaningfully toward the box cutter in Emerie’s grip.

“So what if I am?” Emerie fires back, leaning forward to open Nesta’s box too. “He’d deserve it.”

“I never said he didn’t,” Gwyn laughs, turning her attention back to Nesta. “So, what are you going to do?”

Nesta sighs softly. “I don’t know. Feyre asked me to show him around the city.”

“Doesn’t he have teammates to do that?”

“Ignore him and the request,” Emerie suggests dryly.

Nesta snorts quietly but it quickly turns into a sigh, even as she keeps her hands busy pulling books out of her box. “I didn’t exactly tell Feyre what happened that night.”

She hadn’t told anyone about that night, save her two best friends. She still cringes sometimes when she thinks back to it, the embarrassment burning bright low in her gut, twisting and squeezing between her ribs uncomfortably. She’d sworn that night that she would never give a single thought about Cassian Valdarez ever again, and until today, she’d kept true to that.

She’d spent her remaining days in New York City solely with her sisters, even doing one of the touristy bus tours with Elain to see all the classic sights. And thankfully, Feyre had been more interested in excitedly talking about wedding plans and ideas than continuing her busybody meddling. If either of her sisters noticed anything different with Nesta, they didn’t say anything.

After Nesta had flown back home to Seattle, Emerie and Gwyn came over to her apartment. Drinking a bottle of wine between the three of them, it all had come spilling out of her. Her friends had allowed her to pace and rage, and then that was that. Nesta had washed her hands of the whole thing. Never again did she dare to check the sports news out of curiosity. Never again did she dare to stalk his Instagram. Never again did she think of the stupid face and the stupid smirk of a smile of that hockey player.

“What if you give him a tour of all the worst places in the city?” Emerie suggests, brown eyes practically lighting up at the idea. “Then, maybe he’ll want to leave the city.”

Gwyn’s laugh is bright, red hair tumbling down her back when she tosses her head back. “That is definitely not how sports teams operate.”

“Worth a shot,” Emerie mutters, tossing aside the box packaging in her hands and reaching back in for the books hiding beneath. “Holy shit. We got the new Sellyn Drake novel already?”

Emerie holds up the book in her hand excitedly, showing off the cover. Like so many romance novels these days, it features a faceless, cartoon style couple. The man is shirtless, though, rocking a kilt, while the woman is drawn with a yellow sundress. Looping script above the cartoon characters declares the title, The Scottish High Lord and Me.

“It’s official release date is…” Gwyn starts, squinting down at the iPad and scrolling through whatever is on the screen. “Tuesday, so we’ll want to put them out Monday night after we close.”

Gwyn reaches over toward the metal shelves, swiping up the sticky notes and sharpie sitting there. She scrawls out a note, a reminder of when they’ll need to stock the books, and peels the sticky note free. She slaps it right over the cover of the book in Emerie’s hands, but Emerie is quick to peel it right back off, placing it instead on one of the other copies still in the box.

“Hey!” Gwyn chastises, narrowing her eyes.

“What?” Emerie asks, her tone overly innocent. “This is my copy.”

“Gwyn just said the book doesn’t technically release until Tuesday,” Nesta points out, snorting softly.

“What’s the point of owning a bookstore if we don’t get to read all the best releases early? Besides, it’s not like I’m going to be posting all the spoilers online or anything.”

“Good point,” Nesta agrees, reaching forward as well to grab another of the Sellyn Drake books.

“You both are terrible.”

“Oh, come on,” Emerie teases with a roll of her eyes. “You know you want to read it too.”

“Seriously, Gwyn,” Nesta adds, not even bothering to bite back her smirk as she points to the cover. “It’s a Scottish love interest.”

Gwyn huffs, seemingly determined to hold her ground with her crossed arms and narrowed gaze, but it barely lasts a few seconds. Not quite meeting either of her friends' eyes, the barest hint of a blush beginning to pool in her cheeks, she reaches forward into the box, plucking out another of the books.

Nesta and Emerie glance toward each other, sharing a knowing look, before they both burst out laughing. It feels good to laugh, to have that lightness twining around her limbs and swelling through her chest. It feels good to be squeezed back in this tiny stockroom with her best friends, her chosen sisters. She doesn’t know what she’d do without them.

They were there for her when she hit the lowest point of her life, when she well and truly felt like she hit rock bottom. They were right there beside her in the trenches, a shoulder to cry on, an ear to rage and scream at, a voice of reason and comfort. They didn’t flinch when Nesta snapped and released that swirling storm of emotion within her. They didn’t balk from her every scar, every dark crevice of her soul.

And when Nesta was ready, they helped pull her out.

“And what books are in your box?” Gwyn asks Nesta, pulling her out of her thoughts and back into the present.

Nesta shakes her head before peering into the box at her feet, pushing aside the packaging. “It looks like it’s our restock of that baseball romance that went viral.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Gwyn comments, tapping away at the iPad screen. “We should definitely put those out tonight so they’re ready for tomorrow.”

~ * * * ~

Nesta slumps back against the blankets and pillows of her bed with a soft sigh. She sinks back into the mattress, letting her arm fall over her eyes. There’s definitely a soreness lingering in her biceps from lifting all those boxes, but it was worth it.

When they finished inventory of the latest deliveries, the three of them had moved back into the main shop. Emerie had taken to restocking the shelves while Gwyn took to rearranging the table displays at the front. Nesta had taken to the registers. Math had always been a strong point for her, even when she was back in school, so it was always her job to balance their books. They all worked in perfect tandem until everything was good to go, finally closing up the shop and heading their separate ways back to their respective apartments.

Nesta allows herself another moment to simply lay in bed before hauling herself back up. She grabs the newest Sellyn Drake novel, resituating her pillows and settling back comfortably against them. Her fingers skate along the cover, down over the spine. There’s always been something about holding a fresh book in her hands. The crisp pages, the scent of parchment and ink.

Sliding her palm down the cover once more, Nesta turns to the first page, but her gaze dances away from the words and over to her nightstand. To her phone sitting there. She knows she shouldn’t, but her fingers itch with the urge all the same. With an annoyed huff, Nesta snatches up the device, navigating to her message app and the unread texts there.

Unknown number 7:12pm Did I type in the wrong number? This is Nesta, right?

Unknown number 7:37pm Feyre says this is the right number. Did she tell you I’m moving to the Seattle area? It would be really great if we could meet up!

Unknown number 9:21pm I guess you’re just really busy. My flight gets in Saturday morning, but the team is picking me up to show me around the practice facilities and locker rooms and introduce me to everyone. Maybe we could meet up in the afternoon? I’d be more than happy to buy you dinner 😏

The last message has Nesta rolling her eyes hard. It’s exactly the sort of response she expects from someone like Cassian. All the arrogance and presumptuousness that comes from being a professional athlete. She half wonders how he even fits his ego inside the locker rooms.

Nesta tosses her phone aside and returns to her book. She hasn’t broken her promise yet, and she has no intention of breaking it now. Besides, who needs a hockey player when she has a fictional Scotsman, anyways?

—

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @lady-nestas @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @books-books-books4ever @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head @readergalaxy @thesnugglingduck @kale-theteaqueen @tarquindaddy @superflurry @bri-loves-sunflowers @lady-winter-sunrise @witch-and-her-witcher @fieldofdaisiies

[doormatty3]

Echoes Of Madness (Possessed!Josh Lambert x Reader)

Masterlist Ao3

Summary:

[Possessed!Josh Lambert x Reader] [Possessed!Josh Lambert x Female Reader]  You’ve been the Lambert family’s maid since Renai hired you when Dalton was in a coma, desperate for help with the household and when he recovered, you became an integral part of them.  Despite your close proximity to the family, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy towards the bond shared between Renai and Josh. However, Josh’s demeanour shifted after Dalton awoke from his coma, becoming moody and occasionally downright rude towards his wife. Yet, despite these shortcomings, you can’t deny your attraction towards him. Amidst the growing tension within the household, you can’t ignore the strange occurrences surrounding Josh.  The more you witness, the warier you grow of him, grappling with confusion over his erratic behaviour - you can’t help but feel like someone else pulls the strings.  And when you find him screaming at his reflection in the mirror, you realise he shares that magnetic attraction towards you - and you can be sure of one thing: You’re in for one hell of a ride. OR: Josh is possessed and possesses you with his cock.

Wordcount: 16851

Warnings: 18+, extremely dubious consent, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding, vaginal sex, smut, dirty talk, older man/ younger woman, daddy issues, face fucking, blowjob, fingering, spanking, bondage, rough oral sex, biting, choking, forced orgasm

A/N: You ask - I deliver 

Content Warning: There's some extremely dubious consent - To be honest, the whole smut is kind of dubious. The protagonist is into it but it's still insanely problematic... So proceed with care and remember that Josh is after all possessed (and really hot).

If someone had asked you in your childhood what you’d end up doing for a living, being a maid wouldn’t have crossed your mind. But life has a way of surprising one, and yours took some turns and twists.

So one day, you stumbled upon a newspaper ad while out of work: a family was seeking a housekeeper because their son was in a coma. And that’s how you became the housekeeper for the Lambert family - a role you’ve held for quite some time now.

It had been Renai Lambert who sought assistance when both she and her husband Josh were overwhelmed by the emotional and logistical challenges, and maintaining the household became an insurmountable task.

In those trying times, you provided more than just cleaning and tidying services; you offered a sense of stability and support amidst the chaos and befriended the whole family.

Sure, there were a few times when they couldn’t pay you on time, but you never let it bother you. You understood the financial strain they were under, especially with Dalton’s medical bills looming over them. You knew they would compensate you as soon as they could, and that was enough for you to carry on with your duties.

Then, as if by magic, Dalton woke from his coma, and suddenly, everything seemed right again. 

Initially, you harboured concerns about the future of your employment, fearing that your services might no longer be needed in light of Dalton’s recovery. However, to your relief, the Lamberts made it clear that they valued your presence and contributions beyond the context of Dalton’s illness.

_____

As you go about your duties within the Lambert household, a pang of envy occasionally creeps into your thoughts when you observe the seemingly perfect relationship between Renai and Josh. Their bond radiates with an undeniable warmth and understanding, a stark contrast to the complexities of your own personal life. Despite the challenges they’ve faced, their connection remains unwavering, leaving you to yearn for a love as deep and steadfast as theirs.

Josh, in particular, captures your attention with his striking features and undeniable charisma. His clear blue eyes sparkle with kindness and determination, drawing you in with their magnetic allure. His brown, short hair frames his face in a way that accentuates his rugged charm, while his strong yet gentle hands speak volumes of his dedication to his family. His slim and toned physique exudes confidence and strength, a testament to his unwavering commitment to both his loved ones and himself.

But it’s not just his physical attributes that captivate you; it’s his unwavering devotion to Renai and Dalton that truly sets him apart. His willingness to sacrifice and his boundless love for his family is evident in every action and gesture, leaving you with a sense of admiration tinged with a hint of longing.

And then there’s his laughter - a melodic symphony that fills the room with joy and warmth whenever he’s near. It’s infectious, drawing you into its embrace and momentarily easing the burdens weighing on your heart. 

Though you can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt for harbouring such thoughts, you can’t deny the undeniable pull that Josh exerts over you. 

But you noticed that the aftermath of Dalton’s coma took a toll on Josh and Renai’s relationship.

The once-unbreakable bond between them seemed to fray at the edges, leaving behind jagged wounds that festered beneath the surface.

Josh’s demeanour, in particular, underwent a noticeable shift, oscillating between moments of distant detachment and flashes of his former warmth and affection. There are times when his behaviour bordered on outright rudeness, his words sharp, and his actions cold, leaving Renai to navigate the turbulent waters of their relationship alone. 

Yet, amidst the chaos, there were fleeting glimpses of the man you once knew - the devoted husband who doted on his wife and cherished his family with unwavering devotion.

But you knew better than to dwell on such observations, pushing aside any thoughts that strayed into forbidden territory. Josh was your employer, and his marriage to Renai was sacrosanct - a bond you had no right to intrude upon. 

Despite his friendly demeanour towards you, you remained acutely aware of the professional boundaries that governed your relationship, steadfast in your resolve to maintain a respectful distance. It was a reality you begrudgingly accepted, even as the lines between employer and employee blurred with each passing day. And so, you buried any inklings of desire or longing beneath a facade of professional decorum, resigned to the silent ache that gnawed at your heart in the quiet moments of solitude.

_____

Lost in the rhythmic drone of the vacuum cleaner, you move through the Lamberts’ living room with a sense of detachment, as if operating on autopilot. The monotonous hum of the machine serves as a backdrop to the tumult of thoughts swirling within your mind, drowning out the outside world as you retreat into the sanctuary of your own thoughts.

With each pass of the vacuum cleaner, your mind drifts further into the depths of contemplation, grappling with the complexities of the situation unfolding before you. The tension between Josh and Renai, the fragile facade of normalcy that masks the underlying turmoil - it all weighs heavily on your shoulders, threatening to engulf you in its wake.

Despite your best efforts to remain focused on the task at hand, your thoughts wander down winding pathways, exploring the myriad possibilities and uncertainties that lie ahead. What will become of the Lambert family in the wake of Dalton’s recovery? Will Josh and Renai find their way back to each other, or will the cracks in their relationship widen into irreparable chasms?

The tension between Josh and Renai, the forbidden desires that simmer beneath the surface - they linger like shadows in the recesses of your mind, haunting you with their persistent presence.

As the vacuum cleaner glides effortlessly across the carpet, you find yourself yearning for the respite of silence, a moment of clarity amidst the chaos. But the relentless hum of the machine serves as a constant reminder of the reality that surrounds you, anchoring you to the present moment even as your mind drifts into the unknown.

For a fleeting moment, you consider switching off the vacuum, allowing the silence to envelop you like a comforting embrace. But the clamour of your inner turmoil proves too overwhelming, driving you to continue your relentless pursuit of cleanliness and order within the Lambert household.

And so, you continue to vacuum the Lamberts’ living room, lost in the labyrinth of your own thoughts, navigating the twists and turns of emotion with each step. 

Over the deafening roar of the vacuum cleaner, you hear a noise - a faint rustling, like the flutter of wings against a silent sky.

The abrupt disruption jolts you from your reverie, scattering the fragments of your thoughts like leaves in the wind. Startled, you glance around the living room, determined to find the source of the disruption before you halt the incessant drone with a swift motion.

Its sudden silence leaves a void that echoes with anticipation.

Your senses, now heightened, scan the surroundings for any sign of disturbance. The air crackles with tension as you strain to discern the source of the commotion, but all you hear is the hushed murmur of the house settling into its familiar rhythm and the muted thrum of your heartbeat echoing in the cavernous expanse of the room.

Just as you begin to second-guess the validity of the noise, it comes again - a sharp thud reverberating from somewhere above, sending a jolt of apprehension coursing through your veins. Your heart quickens its pace as you realise that the sound is authentic and not a product of your imagination. 

Curiosity stirs within you, a dormant ember reignited by the tantalising promise of the unknown.  With measured steps, you ascend the staircase, each creak of the floorboards adding to the eerie atmosphere that permeates the hallway.

The dim light casts elongated shadows that dance along the walls, heightening the sense of unease that settles over you like a heavy cloak. They cling to the walls like spectres, their formless tendrils reaching out to ensnare unwary travellers in their embrace. The faint scent of lavender lingers in the air, mingling with the musty aroma of age-old secrets veiled in dust and decay.

Reaching the top of the stairs, you hesitate. Your pulse is loud in your ears, drowning out the sound of your own footsteps. 

The hallway stretches out before you, a labyrinth of dimly lit corridors and closed doors shrouded in mystery. 

Your eyes scan the surroundings, searching for any sign of disruption, any clue as to what could have caused the disturbance. But aside from the faint glow of lamplight and the soft rustle of curtains in the breeze, there’s nothing out of the ordinary. Summoning your courage, you press forward, guided by the siren song of the unknown. The floorboards creak beneath your weight, their protest a haunting refrain that echoes through the empty halls. 

The unsettling quiet that follows the disturbance sets your nerves on edge, a sense of unease settling over you like a heavy fog. You hesitate for a moment before mustering the courage to call out for Josh Lambert, the only other person in the household at the time.

“Mr. Lambert?” you call out tentatively, the sound of your voice seeming to dissipate into the silence around you. “Are you there? Is everything alright?”

But the only response is the hollow echo of your own voice bouncing off the walls, amplifying the eerie stillness that surrounds you. A chill runs down your spine as you wait, straining your ears for any sign of life within the house. As the seconds tick by, a creeping sense of dread begins to gnaw at the edges of your consciousness. What if something has happened to Josh? What if you’re alone in this house with whatever caused the disturbance?

With a shaky breath, you take a hesitant step forward, heart pounding in your chest.

“Mr. Lambert, please,” you call out again, your voice tinged with desperation. “Are you there?”

But still, there’s no response, no indication that your words have reached their intended recipient. Fear tightens its grip on your chest, threatening to suffocate you with its weight.

Just as despair threatens to overwhelm you, a faint noise breaks through the oppressive silence - a soft click followed by the creak of a door being opened. Your heart leaps into your throat as you turn towards the sound, your breath catching in your chest.

Finally, the bedroom door swings open, revealing Josh’s familiar form bathed in the soft glow of lamplight. His tousled hair catches the glimmer of light filtering through the window, casting a halo of silver around his face. In the muted shadows of the hallway, his features are softened, his eyes alight with a quiet intensity. The lines of worry that once etched his brow have been smoothed away, replaced by a sense of quiet resolve that lends him an air of quiet confidence.

Relief floods through you like a tidal wave.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself before addressing Josh, whose presence, though comforting, seems to carry an air of unease, a faint tension that sends shivers down your spine - a shift, a shadow that lingers at the edge of perception, eluding your grasp like smoke slipping through your fingers.

You study him intently, searching for any telltale sign of discord, but his demeanour remains serene, his gaze steady and unwavering. 

“Mr. Lambert,” you begin tentatively, your voice wavering slightly, “is everything okay? I could have sworn I heard something falling over multiple times.”

Josh’s expression shifts, his features momentarily clouded with a hint of uncertainty, his gaze darting around the hallway as if searching for answers in the shadows.

“I didn’t hear anything,” he replies, his voice low and tinged with a subtle edge that sends a chill down your spine, “But let’s check it out together. Just to be sure.”

You follow Josh hesitantly, a creeping sense of dread gnawing at your insides as you traverse the dimly lit corridors of the house. Each step feels heavier than the last, as if the very air around you is thick with foreboding.

As you search each room, the feeling of unease only intensifies, amplified by Josh’s own palpable sense of tension. His movements are jerky, his eyes darting about as if expecting something - or someone - to leap out at any moment.

Returning to the living room, you can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t quite right. The memory of the strange disturbance lingers like a lingering fog, casting a shadow over the otherwise ordinary surroundings.

“Thank you, Mr. Lambert,” you manage to say, though your voice trembles slightly. “I guess I was just a little jumpy.”

Josh offers you a tight-lipped smile, though it does little to dispel the sense of disquiet that hangs in the air between you.

“No problem,” he replies, his voice strained. “I’m just glad everything seems to be okay.”

Your lips curl into a smile at his words, and as his eyes meet yours, he adds, “And call me Josh, please.”

His request for familiarity sends a sudden rush of warmth flooding your cheeks. You blush furiously, feeling the heat radiating from your face as if it were lit by an internal flame. His gentle smile in response only intensifies the fluttering sensation in your chest, and for a moment, time seems to stand still.

“O-Okay, Josh,” you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. His smile widens at your reaction, a glimmer of amusement dancing in the depths of his eyes. Your breath catches in your throat, a fluttering sensation stirring in the pit of your stomach as you struggle to compose yourself.

“Thank you,” you manage to choke out, your words laced with a hint of embarrassment. His laughter fills the air, a melodic sound that washes over you like a gentle breeze, soothing the tumultuous currents that churn within.

His easygoing demeanour puts you at ease, and you find yourself exhaling a sigh of relief as the tension slowly melts away.

With a playful twinkle in his eye, Josh offers you a reassuring pat on the shoulder before disappearing back into the shadows of the hallway. And as you watch him go, a sense of warmth washes over you, the memory of his smile lingering like a beacon of light in the darkness.

With a newfound sense of confidence, you return to your tasks, the memory of Josh’s smile lighting the way forward, but the feeling of being watched lingering at the edges of your consciousness. And though you try to shake off the unease, you can’t help but feel that something lurks in the shadows.

_____

A few weeks pass, and the memory of the strange encounter with Josh begins to fade into the recesses of your mind. Life in the Lambert household settles into a familiar rhythm, the routine of your duties serving as a comforting anchor amidst the ebb and flow of daily life.

Yet, despite your best efforts to push the memory aside, a nagging sense of unease lingers in the back of your mind - a whisper of doubt that refuses to be silenced.

Today, however, you find yourself in a rush, with an appointment looming on the horizon. The urgency of your departure weighs heavily on your mind as you hurry through your morning routine. With frenzied steps, you navigate through the Lambert household, mentally ticking off tasks from your to-do list.

With a quick glance at the clock, you realise there’s still time to squeeze in one last task before you have to leave - the bathroom could use a quick clean. As you approach the door, intending to get it done swiftly,  the faint murmur of voices catches your attention, causing you to pause in your tracks. Your curiosity is piqued, but you resist the urge to eavesdrop, not wanting to invade anyone’s privacy.

Though you strain to decipher the words since they remain indistinct, muffled by the barrier of the closed door, you recognise Josh’s voice amidst the faint murmurs.

You hesitate, unsure of whether you should proceed with cleaning or come back later. Gathering your courage, you knock lightly on the door, calling out, “Mr. Lambert, it’s me. Can I clean the bathroom now, or should I come back later?”

The voices abruptly fall silent, replaced by a heavy stillness that sends a shiver down your spine. With a furrowed brow, you knock on the door again, your heart pounding in your chest as you wait for a response.

After a moment, the door swings open to reveal Josh standing there, a charming smile gracing his features. For a moment, you find yourself breathless, struck by the sight of his handsome features illuminated by the soft glow of the bathroom light.

“Oh, hey there! You can go ahead and clean. Thanks for checking in,” he responds, his tone warm and inviting as he steps aside to allow you entry.

Despite the urgency of your task, you can’t help but feel a pang of guilt for interrupting whatever conversation Josh was engaged in. But as you glance back at Josh, his smile unwavering, you can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement in your stomach.

“Thanks, Mr. Lambert,” you offer apologetically, your manners kicking in automatically. “I didn’t want to interrupt your call.”

Josh’s smile falters for a moment before he shakes his head, his expression puzzled. “Call? Oh, I wasn’t talking to anyone. Don’t worry about it,” he reassures you, his tone genuine.

You pause, taken aback by his response. “I thought I heard you talking in here,” you explain, your voice trailing off as you struggle to find the right words.

But Josh shakes his head, his expression unwavering. “I wasn’t talking to anyone,” he insists, “Maybe you heard something else.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you can’t help but feel a surge of unease at the certainty in his voice. Could you have been mistaken? The possibility gnaws at you, but deep down, a lingering sense of doubt remains.

As you stand there, grappling with the uncertainty, Josh’s gentle reminder breaks through your thoughts. “And remember,” he adds with a playful glint in his eye, “it’s Josh.”

Your cheeks flush crimson at the reminder, the warmth spreading across your face as you meet his gaze. “Of course, Josh,” your voice steady despite the flutter of excitement in your chest.

Josh’s smile widens at your reaction, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. With a casual wave of his hand, he dismisses the awkward moment, leaving you to ponder the encounter as he exits the room, his footsteps echoing in the hallway beyond. 

Alone once again, you can’t shake the nagging sense of doubt that lingers in your mind.

Why would Josh deny such a mundane thing? And what were those voices you heard? With a heavy sigh, you push aside your concerns and focus on the task at hand, but the mystery of the whispered conversation continues to haunt you as you clean the bathroom.

As you meticulously scrub and polish, your mind races with questions, each unanswered query only deepening the sense of unease that gnaws at your conscience.

_____

The day begins like any other as you unlock the door to the Lambert household, the familiar routine of cleaning the house already settling in.

Yet, the usual calmness is abruptly shattered by a sudden sound that pierces the air - a voice raised in what sounds like frantic conversation. It’s Josh, his tone pressing and animated, echoing through the quiet rooms.

A chill runs down your spine as you freeze in place, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. It’s not the first time you’ve heard Josh engaged in what seems like an intense discussion, but there’s something different this time - a sense of urgency that renders you momentarily breathless.

Unable to ignore the unease gnawing at you, you abandon your cleaning supplies and make your way upstairs, each step heavy with apprehension. The sound of Josh’s voice grows louder with each passing moment, his words becoming more distinct as you approach.

“Mr. Lambert?” you call out tentatively as you climb, your voice seemingly swallowed by the eerie silence that permeates the house. Anxiety gnaws at your insides as you press forward, each step feeling heavier than the last.

After what seems like an eternity, the murmurs of Josh’s voice reach your ears once more. “You have to leave. Leave me alone,” he pleads, the desperation in his tone sending a shiver down your spine.

Approaching the bathroom, your heart pounds in your chest as you push open the door, revealing a sight that leaves you speechless and freezes you in your tracks. 

There stands Josh in front of the mirror, seemingly engaged in a heated argument with his own reflection.

His appearance is startling - a far cry from the composed and collected man you’re accustomed to seeing. Dark circles rim his blue eyes, their usual sparkle replaced by a dull, haunted gaze. His complexion is ashen and sickly, a stark contrast to his usual vitality. And to add to the peculiarity, you notice that his shirt is buttoned wrongly, a small detail that only adds to the unsettling atmosphere.

Caught off guard by the disturbing scene before you, fear grips your entire being as Josh’s gaze meets yours in the mirror. In a split second, instinct takes over, and without a second thought, your fight-or-flight response kicks in. You step back slowly, a wave of terror washing over you as you turn and bolt from the room, desperate to escape the unsettling aura that surrounds Josh.

The urgency of the moment propels you forward, your heart pounding in your chest as you flee from the unsettling encounter in the bathroom. Each step echoes loudly in the empty hallway, reverberating with the weight of fear and uncertainty that grips you.

As you race down the corridor, the sound of Josh’s heavy footsteps reverberates behind you, each thud echoing with a sense of urgency that drives you onward. “Stop!” he commands, his voice filled with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

Despite the pounding of your heart and the adrenaline coursing through your veins, something deep within you refuses to obey. With determination propelling your every move, you push forward, your feet carrying you faster and faster towards the sanctuary of the exit.

Your breath comes in ragged gasps as you push yourself to go faster, the adrenaline fueling your every movement. The hallway stretches endlessly before you, each turn offering a fleeting glimpse of escape that seems just out of reach.

But just as you reach the end of the hallway, a powerful force crashes into you from behind, knocking you off balance and sending you sprawling against the wall with a resounding thud. Before you can react, Josh is upon you, his entire body pressing you against the surface, trapping you in a suffocating embrace. The look on his face is nothing short of predatory, his eyes ablaze with a frenzied intensity that sends chills down your spine. 

Trapped in his grasp, you are powerless to resist as he leans in closer, his breath hot against your skin. The air crackles with tension as he gazes down at you, his features contorted in a mix of desperation and something darker, something primal and instinctual.

Despite the looming threat and the palpable fear that courses through your veins, you can’t help but notice the undeniable sensations that accompany Josh’s closeness. His body pressed against yours exudes warmth, a stark contrast to the coldness of the wall against your back.

For a few heart-stopping seconds, Josh simply holds you in his grasp, his gaze locking onto yours with an otherwordly intensity. In that brief, suspended moment, time seems to stand still. The only sound is the frantic pounding of your own heart.

Then, finally, he breaks the silence, his voice a low rumble that cuts through the tension like a knife. “Why did you run from me?” he asks, his words laden with confusion and a hint of hurt.

Caught off guard by the question, you struggle to find the right words, your mind racing as you search for an explanation. The truth is, you’re not entirely sure why you fled from him in the first place - only that the overwhelming sense of fear and unease drove you to act on instinct without pausing to consider the consequences.

“I...I don’t know,” you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. “I was scared…you scared me.”

As the words tumble from your lips, you can’t help but feel a pang of guilt at the look of hurt that flickers across Josh’s face. Despite the danger of the situation, there’s a vulnerability in his expression that speaks to a deeper, more human side of him - one that you hadn’t anticipated.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible above the pounding of your heart. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

As Josh’s gaze holds yours, a myriad of emotions swirl within you, tangled and tumultuous. Despite the fear that still grips you, you can’t deny the undeniable pull of attraction coursing through your veins, drawing you inexplicably closer to him. 

Your breath grows shallow, your heart hammering in your chest as you struggle to make sense of the conflicting desires that war within you. On one hand, there’s the undeniable danger of the situation - the fear that still lingers in the air, casting a shadow over everything. And yet, beneath it all, there’s a primal, instinctual longing that you can’t ignore - a desire that burns hot and bright, threatening to consume you from within.

You watch Josh with a mix of fascination and trepidation, taking in his otherworldly appearance and the weariness etched into every line of his face. His eyes, blown wide with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine, hold a depth of emotion that you can’t quite decipher.

Abruptly, he leans in, running his nose along your neck. You can feel the heat of his breath against your skin, sending goosebumps erupting in its wake. A soft whimper escapes your lips as his touch ignites a fire deep within you, stirring something that demands to be sated.

Your eyes flutter closed as you surrender to the sensation, losing yourself in the heady rush of desire that courses through your veins. It’s as if every nerve in your body is alight with anticipation, craving the touch of him. You feel a rush of heat flood your cheeks as his warm breath brushes against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His movements are deliberate and purposeful, as if he’s trying to memorise every inch of you.

And then, as his nose traces along your skin, you feel a low, guttural sound rumble from deep within his chest - a primal groan of pleasure and desire that sends a thrill coursing through your veins.

Your eyes are drawn to his lips as he licks them when he pulls back, a gesture that sends a jolt of heat coursing through you. Without hesitation and much thought, you lean in, capturing his lips with your own in a kiss that’s both desperate and hungry.

As Josh’s hands bury themselves in your hair when he kisses you back, a surge of anticipation courses through you. Before you can react, he pulls your head back roughly, forcing your back to collide with the unyielding surface of the wall. A sharp pang of pain shoots through your skull as the impact reverberates through your body, leaving you momentarily stunned.

The pain radiates outwards, mingling with the heady rush of desire that still pulses within you. Despite the discomfort, there’s an undeniable thrill in the sensation, a primal excitement that courses through your veins.

The kiss is bruising, almost punishing, as if he’s trying to erase all thought and reason from your mind. His touch is rough and demanding, as if he’s determined to claim you as his own.

But even as your head spins with the force of his kiss, a part of you can’t help but revel in the intensity of the moment. There’s something exhilarating about the raw passion that burns between you, a fire that refuses to be extinguished.

Caught in the storm of desire that rages within you, there’s nothing you can do but surrender to the irresistible pull of the moment. His touch ignites a fire within you, burning hot and fierce as it consumes you from the inside out.

With each passing second, you find yourself losing all sense of control, swept away by the sheer intensity of the connection between you. His hands, rough and insistent, leave trails of heat in their wake as they roam hungrily over your body.

With Josh still pressed against you, the sensation of his body against yours sends a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins. 

As his arms envelop you, pulling you closer, you find yourself melting into his touch, the lines between fear and desire blurring in the heat of the moment. His closeness is intoxicating, igniting a fire within you that burns hotter with each passing second.

As Josh’s overpowering presence engulfs you, every fibre of your being is consumed by a whirlwind of sensations. His demanding behaviour, his intoxicating scent, the taste of him lingering on your lips - it all swirls together in a dizzying torrent that leaves you utterly overwhelmed. 

You feel how intensely and instinctively you react to him, from the fire in your veins to the way your nipples start to grow hard and how your cunt starts to get wet.

When he breaks the kiss, you feel his hot breath against your lips, and a wave of realisation washes over you, pulling you back to reality.

“Please, Mr. Lambert, this isn’t right,” you manage to say, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and desire. It is not like you don’t want him, but he is still married to Renai and your employer, and more importantly, he doesn’t seem to be in the right headspace.

But instead of heeding your plea, Josh only laughs - a deep, dark sound that reverberates through the room, sending shivers down your spine. His eyes gleam with an intensity that both thrills and terrifies you, their dark depths holding you captive in their gaze.

“Not you calling me Mr. Lambert like it doesn’t turn you on just to say it,” he retorts, his voice low and husky, laced with a hint of amusement. The corner of his mouth quirks up in a sly grin, and for a moment, you’re struck by the sheer magnetism of his presence.

As Josh’s lips meet yours once more, the kiss is deep and consuming. But this time, there’s an urgency to his touch, a hunger that ignites a fire within you both.

Your lips collide with a fervent intensity, teeth clicking against each other in a desperate embrace. The sensation is electric, each movement sending sparks flying as desire consumes you both.

Lost in the heat of the moment, you surrender to the kiss, your inhibitions melting away as passion takes hold. Some part of you is sure that this is wrong - but the way he feels against you, how he consumes you - frenzied and almost as if possessed by something - you can’t help but surrender to him. 

As Josh’s tongue invades your mouth, you taste the heady mixture of desire and desperation that lingers on his lips. His hold on you tightens, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you, his arms wrapped around you with a possessiveness that sends a thrill down your spine.

Lost in the intoxicating embrace, you surrender to the moment, letting yourself be consumed by the heat of passion that courses through your veins. His touch ignites a fire within you, a hunger that burns hot and fierce as you melt into his embrace.

As Josh’s lips part from yours, a low, almost primal sound rumbles deep in his throat - a feral growl that sends a shiver down your spine. His eyes, dark with desire, bore into yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless.

“I can smell you,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. “I know you want me.”

His words hang in the air between you, heavy with meaning and intent. There’s a possessiveness in his tone, a certainty that sends a rush of heat flooding through your veins as you involuntarily clench your thighs - your pussy already slick with arousal. 

Caught off guard by the raw intensity of his confession, you find yourself at a loss for words. The truth in his words is undeniable, a silent acknowledgement of the desires that simmer beneath the surface.

Without waiting for a response, Josh’s lips crash against yours once more, a hungry fervour consuming every inch of your being. The kiss is fervent, almost desperate, as if he’s trying to claim you as his own one more.

A sharp pang of pain shoots through you as his teeth sink into your lip, drawing blood and pulling you back to reality. The metallic tang of iron fills your mouth, mingling with the heady taste of desire that lingers between you. Despite the pain, there’s a primal thrill in the sensation, a rawness that ignites a fire deep within your core.

His hands roam hungrily over your body, tracing every curve and contour with an urgency that leaves you gasping for air. The touch of his fingertips against your skin sends electric sparks dancing along your nerves, each caress leaving you achingly aware of the mounting tension between you.

At that moment, there’s no room for thought or hesitation - only the overwhelming rush of sensation that consumes you both. You lose yourself in the heat of the moment, surrendering to the primal instinct that drives you together, body and soul.

With a suddenness that leaves you reeling, Josh abruptly pulls away from the kiss, leaving you breathless and longing for more. His gaze is intense, dark with desire as he looks at you with hunger-filled eyes.

You’re acutely aware of the heady scent of arousal that surrounds you, mingling with the sweet tang of blood on your lips. It’s a combination that leaves you dizzy with longing, your senses heightened to a fever pitch.

He comes closer again and trails wet kisses over your jaw and neck, and when he lingers over your pulse point, his touch ignites a fire within you, a hunger that burns hot and fierce. 

With a suddenness that catches you off guard, his teeth sink into the tender flesh of your neck, right where he just traced with his tongue, while his grip on you tightens, holding you in place as if afraid you might pull away. The pressure of his teeth against your skin sends a shiver down your spine, igniting a fire within you that burns hotter with each passing second.

The sharp pain shoots through you like a bolt of lightning, causing you to let out an involuntary whimper and buck your hips against his. You feel the hardness of his cock against you, a testament to his own arousal.

Your breath catches in your throat as the pain radiates outwards, mixing with the heady rush of desire that still courses through your veins. Despite the sting, there’s an undeniable thrill in the sensation, a rawness that heightens the intensity of the moment.

But even as desire courses through you, a part of you can’t help but feel a twinge of fear at the suddenness of his actions. The line between pleasure and pain blurs in the heat of the moment, leaving you breathless and wanting more even as you whimper in discomfort.

As Josh pulls away, a mixture of relief and longing wash over you. His gaze is intense, dark with desire as he looks at you, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath.

In the aftermath of his bite, you feel a dull throb where his teeth had sunk into your skin, the sensation a potent reminder of the raw intensity of the moment. But as he leans in closer, his tongue tracing over the mark he left behind, a rush of heat floods your senses, sending a shiver down your spine as you let out a breathy moan.

His touch is gentle, almost reverent as if he’s trying to soothe the pain he caused with his earlier actions. The feel of his tongue against your skin sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through you, erasing the discomfort and replacing it with a heady rush of desire.

With each lick, each caress, the tension between you grows thicker, electrified by the lingering heat of your shared passion. And as he pulls away, his breath heavy against your skin, you’re left reeling, your senses ablaze with longing.

“I knew you were a slut,” he murmurs, his words dripping with disdain and desire. 

And then, before you can react, he crushes his lips against yours once more, a bruising kiss that borders on violence. The force of it knocks the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping for air as he claims you with a possessiveness that borders on obsession.

The sheer force of his embrace leaves you gasping for air as if you’ve been winded. Each press of his lips against yours feels like a demand, a possessive claim that leaves no room for resistance.

In that moment, you’re acutely aware of the raw power of his desire, the intensity of his need for you. It’s as if he’s trying to erase all thought and reason from your mind, leaving only the primal urge to surrender to him completely.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you,” he murmurs, his words laced with a hunger that sends a shiver down your spine as he sinks his teeth into your neck one more. “With your tight shirts and pants. Fuck, you drive me crazy.”

His admission hangs heavy in the air, a confession of desire that leaves you breathless and wanting more. It’s as if he’s stripped away all pretence, laying bare the raw, unbridled passion that simmers beneath the surface.

“And there’s nothing more I’d like to do than bend you over,” he continues, his voice low and husky with desire. The words send a thrill of excitement coursing through you, mingling with a sense of apprehension at the sheer intensity of his longing.

With a sudden surge of primal instinct, Josh’s hands tear open your shirt, the fabric yielding to his strength with a resounding rip. The sound echoes in the room, a stark reminder of the raw intensity of the moment.

As the fabric falls away, exposing your chest to the cool air, a rush of anticipation courses through you, mingling with the heady mix of desire that hangs heavy in the air. You can feel the weight of his gaze on you, hot and intense, as he takes in the sight before him.

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, the erratic rhythm matching the tumultuous emotions swirling within you. Part of you is happy - almost giddy - you decided to forgo the bra today since it gives him better access. 

Before you can even register what’s happening, Josh’s mouth crashes against your bare chest, igniting a firestorm of sensation that consumes you whole. 

At first, he places light, wet kisses on your naked collarbones before starting to suck purple marks into your skin that cause you to whimper and moan with each new one. 

The combination of the cold air hitting the wet spots and the slight pain he causes drives you wild. You feel your pussy growing wetter and wetter, desperate for him to give you more.

As if he knows what you need, he bares his teeth and bites down into the soft skin of your bare tits. Each nip of his teeth is like a branding, leaving a searing imprint of his desire in its wake, marking you as his own.

Every nerve ending is electrified with a jolt of pleasure as he continues to explore and mark you. You whither and moan, pressed against him as he kisses and tastes your skin, careful not to touch your hard nipples.

After what almost feels like torture, he lifts his head to meet your eyes, and it’s as if a current of electricity is coursing through your veins, sparking with the sheer intensity of his passion evident in his eyes.

You watch as he runs his tongue over his lips before he lowers his head to finally capture your hard nipple with his mouth. 

A loud moan escapes you when he flicks it with his tongue and bites down softly before pulling it upwards with his teeth. The minimal stimulation feels like it has a direct connection to your neglected cunt, arousal crashing low in your belly as you buck your hips against his again.

You feel Josh’s hard cock straining in his jeans, and you press against him once more, desperate for some stimulation.

Josh’s low growl reverberates through the room, sending a shiver down your spine as he releases his grip on your skin. The sudden absence of his touch leaves you feeling strangely empty, aching for more even as you struggle to catch your breath. 

The cold air on your wet skin only adds to the frenzy you are experiencing as you feel it throb. 

Your heart pounds in your chest, the rhythm erratic and wild, matching the frantic pace of your thoughts. Every nerve ending is alight with sensation, throbbing with an intensity that threatens to overwhelm you.

With a sudden, commanding force, Josh’s hand closes around your throat, his grip strong and unyielding. The pressure tightens around your neck, a firm reminder of his dominance as you feel the weight of his touch pressing into your skin.

You gasp. The sensation is both exhilarating and terrifying as if you’re teetering on the edge of a precipice, unsure whether to fall or pull back. His touch sends a shockwave coursing through your body, leaving you trembling in its wake.

And then there are his eyes - blue orbs that seem almost swallowed by the darkness, pools of intense desire that draw you in with an irresistible pull. They hold you captive, trapping you in their gaze as if daring you to look away.

With a guttural growl, Josh’s voice rumbles through the air, dripping with both desire and disdain. “Can’t get enough, whore?” His words cut through the silence like a knife, sharp and biting, as he asserts his dominance over you.

You flinch at the harshness of his tone, the weight of his words settling heavily on your shoulders. There’s a mixture of arousal and shame swirling within you, a heady concoction that leaves you dizzy and disoriented.

And then, without warning, he leans in close, his tongue tracing a path along the side of your face. The sensation is both electrifying and repulsive, sending a shiver down your spine as you struggle to reconcile the conflicting emotions raging within you.

His touch is possessive, almost violent in its intensity as if he’s staking his claim on you once more. 

With a ferocious intensity, Josh’s grip around your throat tightens, his fingers digging into your skin with an almost bruising force. The pressure sends a jolt of both pain and pleasure coursing through you, heightening your senses to a fever pitch.

As his other hand roams down your body, you feel a surge of anticipation ripple through you, your skin prickling with goosebumps at his touch. His fingers trace a tantalising path along your curves, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

Every touch is electric, sending shockwaves of sensation radiating through your body. It’s as if he’s igniting a fire within you, stoking the flames of desire until they threaten to consume you whole.

With a sudden, forceful movement, Josh uses his legs to kick open yours, spreading them wide as you’re pressed against the wall. The action is swift and commanding, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable, your body trembling with anticipation.

As your legs are forced apart, you feel a surge of heat rush through you, your pulse quickening at the raw display of dominance.

Pressed against the wall, you’re acutely aware of every sensation - the coolness of the surface against your skin, the heat of Josh’s body pressed against yours, the overwhelming sense of powerlessness that washes over you.

Josh presses his knee into your clothed pussy, the pressure sending a shockwave of sensation coursing through your body. It’s a jolt of pleasure and pain that leaves you gasping for breath, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the feeling.

The pressure of his knee against your skin is firm and unyielding, pressing into you with a force that borders on agonizing. Every movement sends a ripple of pleasure radiating through you.

Once he’s satisfied with the position, Josh pulls his knee away, the sudden release leaving you feeling both relieved and strangely bereft. You take in a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself as you await his next move.

“Stay,” he commands, his voice low and authoritative, sending a shiver down your spine. It’s a simple word, but it carries the weight of his dominance, leaving you rooted to the spot as if by some unseen force.

You nod obediently, unable to tear your gaze away from him as he reaches for the waistband of your pants. The anticipation builds within you, a mixture of excitement and apprehension swirling in the pit of your stomach.

With practised ease, he undoes the button and zipper of your pants, his movements deliberate and unhurried. Each touch sends a thrill of anticipation coursing through you, your breath catching in your throat as you wait.

In a swift and deliberate motion, Josh pulls down your pants, exposing you completely to his hungry gaze. The fabric slips down your legs, pooling at your feet, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable yet strangely exhilarated by the raw display of dominance.

You feel a surge of heat rush through you, your pulse quickening with anticipation. It’s as if a floodgate has been opened, releasing a torrent of desire that threatens to overwhelm you completely.

With a tantalising slowness, Josh trails his fingers along the hem of your underwear, the light touch sending shivers of anticipation racing down your spine. Each caress is deliberate, drawing out the moment and heightening the tension between you.

You can feel the heat of his touch against your skin, his fingers leaving a trail of fire in their wake as they skim along the fabric. It’s as if he’s testing your limits, pushing you to the edge of your control with every teasing stroke.

Your breath catches in your throat as his touch lingers, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through you. 

With a husky voice, Josh murmurs in your ear, “You’re soaked,” as his fingers brush against your clothed cunt. His words send a jolt of electricity through you that leaves you trembling with anticipation.

You can feel the heat of his breath against your skin, sending shivers down your spine as he leans in closer. The air crackles with tension, thick with the heady scent of arousal that hangs between you like a veil.

As his fingers explore your pussy through your panties, you can’t help but moan softly, your body responding instinctively to his touch. It’s as if he knows exactly how to drive you wild, how to push you to the brink of ecstasy with every caress.

With a primal growl, Josh has had enough teasing. In one swift motion, he rips away your underwear. The fabric tears away with a sharp sound, echoing in the air like a crack of thunder, and you gasp at the suddenness of his action, leaving you completely exposed before him.

Now wholly vulnerable, you feel a rush of heat flood your body, your senses overwhelmed by him. The torn fabric hangs limply at your feet, a stark reminder of the power he wields over you in this moment.

You can feel the weight of his gaze on you, hot and intense, as he takes in the sight before him with dark, hooded eyes. There’s a hunger in his gaze, a primal desire that leaves you breathless and trembling in its wake. Almost on instinct, you close your legs, a futile attempt to deny Josh access to your exposed cunt. But he doesn’t falter; his determination is evident as he refuses to be deterred by your feeble resistance and rather pushes your legs open again.

“There we go,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he forces you to comply with his command. “Now, I want you to continue to spread your legs even wider for me.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, a potent mixture of desire and fear coursing through you. You can feel the heat of his gaze on you, his intensity unwavering as he exerts his control over you.

As he pushes one finger inside you, you can’t help but moan softly, your body responding instinctively to his touch.

Josh continues to push and probe deeper, his finger stretching your tight walls further with each insistent thrust. You can feel the pressure building inside you, the sensation both intense and overwhelming as he delves deeper into the depths of your desire.

After what feels like an eternity, his fingers brush against something hidden deep within you, sending a shockwave of pleasure coursing through your body. A gasp escapes your lips as you feel a surge of heat flood your senses, your body responding instinctively to his touch.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky with desire. “Now, I want you to relax and let me take control.”

His words wash over you like a wave, soothing and commanding all at once. You find yourself yielding to his touch, surrendering to the overwhelming sensation of pleasure that threatens to consume you whole.

A smirk dances across Josh’s lips as he leans in closer, his warm breath tickling your ear as he whispers, “Yes. That’s a good girl.” His words send a shiver down your spine, a mixture of pleasure and anticipation coursing through you at his commanding tone.

With deliberate precision, he begins to push another finger inside you, the sensation both intense and electrifying. You can feel yourself stretching to accommodate him, your body responding eagerly to his touch as he delves deeper still.

His fingers penetrate you fully, searching for the right angle to send you spiralling into ecstasy. Each movement is deliberately calculated, as he explores every inch of your cunt with expert precision.

As he continues to push deeper, you can’t help but moan softly, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable intensity.

When he slowly begins to thrust his fingers in and out of your wet pussy, stretching you further with each movement, you begin to moan and whimper. 

You feel like his touch drives you mad - it’s as if every caress, every sensation, sends sparks flying through your body, igniting a firestorm of desire that threatens to consume you whole. 

“Hush, just relax and enjoy what I’m giving to you” Josh’s voice is smooth and reassuring, a comforting presence amidst the whirlwind of sensations as his breath comes out in short, ragged gasps.

His words wash over you like a soothing balm, easing the tension that had been building within you. With a sense of trust and surrender, you allow yourself to let go completely, lost in the moment and the pleasure he provides.

As Josh continues to work his magic, his touch sending ripples of pleasure coursing through your body, you find yourself drifting deeper into a state of blissful abandon. Every caress, every movement, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

He roughly brushes his thumb over your clit, making you buck your hips against his hand with a low hiss. 

“Stay. Still.” Josh’s voice is a low, commanding growl, each word punctuated by a rough touch of his fingers against your cunt, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

The digits of his other hand dig into the skin of your hip.

His grip is firm and possessive as if he’s staking his claim over you in the most primal way. You can feel the heat of his desire radiating off him, his intensity overwhelming as he asserts his dominance over you.

You feel yourself clenching around his fingers, an involuntary response to his rough treatment that just scratches an itch you didn’t know you had. 

“Oh, you like that?” Josh’s voice is a low, husky murmur laced with desire and satisfaction as he picks up the pace even more, slamming his fingers into you with rough precision. His thumb continues to rub against your clit, driving you wild with pleasure. “You’re such a dirty girl.”

His words send a thrill of excitement coursing through you, igniting a firestorm of desire that threatens to consume you whole. You can feel the heat of his gaze on you, hot and intense, as he revels in the power he holds over you. 

Moans spill out your mouth, accompanied by the wet squelching sound of his fingers entering and stretching your pussy again and again. 

You’re completely gone, lost in a haze of desire and ecstasy. Your mind is devoid of coherent thoughts, consumed entirely by the intoxicating presence of Josh. He is all you can think about, all you can feel, as his touch sends waves of pleasure rippling through your body.

At that moment, there’s no room for anything else - only the overwhelming sensation of being completely and utterly consumed by him. 

You find yourself drifting deeper and deeper into a state of pure bliss, lost in a world of sensation and desire. Nothing else matters but him, his touch, his voice, as he guides you further and further into a realm of unbridled passion and ecstasy.

“You’re such a dirty girl,” Josh hisses, his voice dripping with desire and dominance as he continues to play you like an instrument. 

His words send a shiver down your spine, a mixture of arousal and anticipation coursing through your veins. Under the weight of his gaze, you feel a sense of surrender, unable to resist the intoxicating pull he has over you.

His mouth finds your neck again, his teeth grazing across your skin as he kisses and nips at you, each one leaving a trail of fire in its wake. The sensation is both exhilarating and slightly painful, a tangible reminder of his dominance and possession over you.

With each bite, each hickey, you feel a surge of arousal coursing through your veins, your skin tingling with a mixture of pleasure and pain. It’s as if he’s branding you as his own, leaving his mark on your skin for all to see.

“Come for me now,” Josh commands, his voice laced with authority and desire, increasing the pressure on your clit with his thumb as he thrusts deeper and harder.

His words send a jolt of electricity through you, a surge of arousal coursing through your veins. Under the weight of his command, you feel a sense of urgency, a need to obey his every word.

Lost in the intensity of the moment, you surrender completely to his will, allowing yourself to be carried away by the waves of pleasure he provides, and you cum, whimpering and bucking your hips. 

As the tides of pleasure wash over you, you feel a sense of liberation, a release of all the tension and desire that had been building within you. Josh’s command echoes in your mind, driving you to new heights of ecstasy as you give in completely to the pleasure he provides.

“Good girl,” Josh praises you, his voice tender and full of admiration as your body shudders from the intense orgasm.

His fingers relentlessly pound away at your tight cunt, as his thumb continues to rub against your clit, driving you to new heights of pleasure as you ride out your high.

The words wash over you like a soothing balm, comforting and reassuring after the storm of pleasure you just experienced. You feel a sense of pride swell within you, knowing that you’ve pleased him and fulfilled his desires.

As your body begins to relax from the intensity of your climax, you lean into Josh, seeking solace in his arms, and he slowly begins to pull his fingers out of you. 

“Now that you’re nice and loose, it’s time for my cock.” Josh mumbles against your lips, his voice husky with desire.

His words send a shiver down your spine, anticipation coursing through your veins as you feel a renewed sense of arousal building within you. 

A breathy moan falls from your lips as you can’t help but feel a surge of excitement at the prospect of what’s to come, eager to continue exploring the depths of pleasure with him.

Hearing your moan, he growls low and deep in his throat, his body shaking with need. The sound reverberates through the air, filling the room with raw, primal desire. It’s as if your moan ignites a fire within him, fueling his own craving for you.

His growl sends a shiver down your spine, a delicious thrill that only serves to heighten the intensity of the moment. You can feel the heat of his desire radiating from him, palpable and intoxicating as it washes over you.

He pulls his hand away from you, the loss of contact leaving you feeling strangely empty and yearning for more. With a sense of urgency, he unbuttons his pants, the sound echoing in the room as he frees his throbbing cock. 

Your breath catches in your throat as you watch him, your eyes drawn to his dick that’s both thick and long, with precum glistening on the reddish head.

You whimper as the sight of him fills you with a heady mix of excitement and arousal. It’s as if every nerve in your body is on fire, your senses overwhelmed by the raw, primal energy that emanates from him.

“Take it, baby. Take all of me,” he groans, his voice thick with desire and longing as he positions himself at your entrance, his cockhead pressing against your wet folds. 

With a hard thrust, he buries himself inside you, filling you up completely.

The sensation pushes all the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping for air as your head falls back against the wall. You’re overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, and your senses are flooded with the sheer pleasure of being consumed by him.

As you adjust to the feeling of him inside, you realise he’s not wearing a condom, so his bare cock is filling your cunt completely.

“Shit, Josh,” you whimper, your voice trembling with concern, “You’re not wearing a condom.”

His eyes lock on yours, his face contorted in lust as he pushes deeper. You notice how blown wide his eyes look, their intensity almost unnerving as they bore into yours. His features are strained, every muscle in his face tense with desire, and you can see beads of sweat forming on his forehead, glistening in the dim light.

Despite the urgency of the situation, you find yourself captivated by him, unable to look away from the sheer intensity of his desire. 

“I don’t care about condoms right now, baby,” Josh growls, his voice low and husky with desire.

His words send a thrill coursing through you, igniting a firestorm of desire deep within your core. Despite the nagging voice of reason in the back of your mind, you find yourself unable to resist the overwhelming pull of his passion.

In that moment, there’s a sense of reckless abandon, a willingness to throw caution to the wind in pursuit of the raw, unbridled pleasure that only he can provide. You can feel the heat of his desire radiating from him, intoxicating and all-consuming as it washes over you.

His lips find yours once again, capturing them in a searing kiss that steals your breath away as he begins to move inside you, his thrusts deep and powerful. He reaches down to grip your hips, guiding you against him as he takes control of the rhythm.

His other hand slides up your stomach and over your breasts, pinching and twisting a nipple as he takes you harder and deeper.

At that electrifying moment, time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in the heat of his embrace. His kiss is a fiery inferno, igniting a blaze of desire within you that threatens to consume you whole.

You can feel the urgency in his touch, the raw hunger that drives him as he explores every inch of your mouth with a fervour that leaves you dizzy with desire. His lips move with a skilful precision, coaxing soft moans of pleasure from your lips as you melt into his embrace.

And as his lips finally part from yours, you find yourself longing for more, yearning to be consumed once again by the fiery passion that burns between you.

“But…I’m not on birth control,” you whimper as the haze momentarily lifts, the reality of the situation sinking in as you voice your concern. The possibility of him getting you pregnant looms large in your mind, casting a shadow over the heat of the moment as Josh continues to thrust into your wet cunt unwaveringly. 

“I don’t care,” he repeats his earlier words, his voice thick with desire as he disregards your concerns. With a primal intensity, he sinks his teeth into your neck once again, sending a jolt of pleasure-pain coursing through your body, “You’re going to take it when I cum - you're gonna love it.”

As his teeth graze against your skin, you can feel the heat of his desire radiating from him as it washes over you, and you buck your hips against his.

You feel his cock hitting a spot deep inside you that makes you moan breathlessly as well as clench around him.

You gaze at Josh, captivated by the sight of him lost in ecstasy. His eyes flutter closed, his head thrown back, revealing the graceful curve of his neck. At that moment, he looks utterly breathtaking, his features softened by pleasure, a blissful expression gracing his handsome face.

The play of emotions across his features and the subtle movements of his lips as he gasps for breath all serve to heighten his allure. His tousled hair falls in disarray around his face, adding to his rugged charm. The flush of arousal paints his cheeks a rosy hue, highlighting the chiselled contours of his jawline.

In the dim light, every inch of him seems to glow with an ethereal radiance, casting him in an almost otherworldly light. 

He grinds against you, his hips pumping rhythmically as he loses himself in the sensation of being inside you. 

“Oh fuck, yes...” He groans, his body trembling as he pushes deeper into you with each thrust, his thick dick hitting your cervix with a loud smack, making you cry out. “You feel so good... so fucking tight.”

The rough texture of the wall adds a new dimension to the already intense sensations coursing through your veins. As Josh presses you against it with a ferocity that leaves you breathless, every scrape and bump against your skin sends sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. 

His lips curve into a wicked grin as he feels you trembling underneath him. With a predatory gleam in his eyes, he bites down hard on your shoulder as he keeps thrusting harder into your cunt in a primal rhythm, eliciting a sharp gasp of pleasure-pain from your lips.

Your body arches into his with every powerful thrust. 

“That’s it, baby. Let me mark you up while I fuck you hard and deep against the wall.” He growls out as he continues to pound into you, his cock slamming inside you with each powerful thrust and his teeth nibbling away on your soft skin.

The sensation is electrifying, sending a surge of arousal coursing through your veins every time he marks you with his teeth. His grip tightens on your skin, holding you in place as he savours the taste of you, his lips lingering on the spot where his teeth sank into your flesh.

It’s a moment of exquisite intensity, the sharp bite of pain mingling with the heady rush of pleasure as he claims you as his own. 

“You like that, baby?” He growls, his voice heavy with lust.

The sound of his voice sends shivers down your spine, igniting a fiery passion deep within you. It’s a question laden with desire, a testament to the intensity of the moment as he waits for your response.

With a ragged breath, you nod and whimper in response, unable to form words as pleasure courses through your veins. His growl reverberates through you, filling you with a heady mix of anticipation and arousal as you surrender yourself completely to the heat of the moment.

He continues to pound into you, his cock slamming against your cervix with each thrust, almost hard enough to make you wince. 

His teeth dig deeper into your shoulder as he loses himself in the sensation of claiming you. “Fuck... I’m gonna cum…”

His words send a jolt of anticipation coursing through you, heightening the intensity of the moment. With each ragged breath, the tension between you builds, reaching a fever pitch as you both hurtle towards the brink of ecstasy.

Feeling his grip tighten on your skin, you can sense his impending release, the urgency in his movements driving you both towards the edge.

“Not inside, please,” you plead, locking eyes with him, your voice trembling as you feel his cock pistoning in and out of you, scrapping that one spot that makes you see stars.

But he doesn’t waver, his gaze unwavering as he continues with his relentless pace. The intensity of his desire overwhelms any sense of restraint, his need for release consuming him entirely. You can only take it helplessly as his movements grow more frenzied, driving you both towards the edge of ecstasy. 

Josh moves his hand down to rub your clit even harder, desperate to make you cum with him. 

“Cum for me, baby…” he commands, his voice thick with desire and authority.

His words send a shiver of anticipation down your spine, igniting a fiery passion deep within you. Despite any reservations or fears, you find yourself unable to resist his command, surrendering yourself completely to his will. With each thrust and caress, he pushes you closer and closer to the brink, his commanding presence fueling the flames of your desire.

And then, with a primal cry of pleasure, you finally succumb to his command, your body convulsing with ecstasy as waves of pleasure wash over you.

“Fuck...” Josh groans, his voice heavy with desire and satisfaction as he feels you orgasm around him. 

His hips buck wildly against yours, driving his cock deep inside you one last time before he tips over the edge as well, letting out a long, low groan.

Hot cum fills your cunt, his body shuddering with release. You feel his muscles tensing as he thrusts a few more times, milking himself into your pussy, making sure he’s completely spent.

As you slowly come down from the heights of ecstasy, a wave of realisation washes over you. With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you become acutely aware of the warmth spreading within you.

Josh’s breathing is ragged, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of his exertion. As he gazes down at you, his eyes are a tumultuous storm of emotions, a swirling mix of lust, tenderness and something dark that leaves you breathless.

In the dim light of the room, his features are cast in shadows, adding an air of mystery to his already intense gaze. You can see the raw desire burning within him, a primal hunger that seems to consume him entirely. But beneath the heat of his lust, there’s also a flicker of something softer, something more vulnerable and intimate.

It’s a paradoxical combination that leaves you utterly captivated, unable to tear your eyes away from his intense stare. 

“I want to spend all night inside you,” he growls, his voice low.

His words send a shiver down your spine, igniting a fierce craving deep within you. 

As you gaze up at him, his gaze is smouldering with raw passion, his eyes dark and intense as they lock onto yours. There’s a hunger in his stare, a need that threatens to consume you both entirely - he’s acting as if possessed.

You can feel your pulse quicken at his words, your body responding instinctively to his commanding presence. 

Josh pulls back from you, creating a small distance between your bodies. As he does, you feel a wave of exhaustion wash over you, causing you to slump against the wall for support. The intensity of the moment begins to fade, leaving you feeling drained and spent. Your muscles ache with exertion, and every breath feels heavy as you try to catch your breath. 

You feel his cock softening inside you and finally slipping out of your well-fucked cunt. 

In the back of your mind, you register the sensation of his cum dripping from you, coating your thighs, pooling at your feet and staining the floor beneath you. 

You sense Josh’s gaze lingering on your pussy as well as the mess on the floor. As you glance up, you catch a glimpse of his darkening gaze, a flicker of desire reigniting within him.

“Oh, don’t worry, we’re not done here,” he growls out, his voice dripping with desire as he leans down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss. His free hand slides down to cup your ass, pulling you closer to him as he deepens the kiss with a hunger that leaves you breathless.

At that moment, time seems to stand still as you’re consumed by the intensity of his touch, the heat of his body pressed against yours as his lips move hungrily against yours.

As he breaks the kiss, his eyes smouldering with desire, he whispers, “We’ve got all night,” his words sending a shiver down your spine.

Your breath catches in your throat as you notice the change in Josh’s demeanour, a sinking feeling of exhaustion settling deep within you. But as you struggle to regain your composure, you realise that he doesn’t care. With a forceful grip, he pulls you roughly from the wall and into the bedroom, heedless of the fatigue that weighs heavily on your shoulders.

As you stumble along in his wake, you feel the exhaustion gnawing at your insides, a relentless ache that threatens to overwhelm you. Each step feels like a Herculean effort, your limbs heavy with fatigue as you struggle to keep pace with Josh’s determined stride.

Despite the weariness that courses through your body, you can’t help but feel a flicker of anticipation at the prospect of what awaits you in the bedroom. The thought of surrendering to the raw passion that simmers between you and Josh ignites a spark of desire within you, momentarily overshadowing the fatigue that threatens to drag you down.

But as you continue to move forward, you can’t ignore the sensation of moisture trickling down your thighs, a silent reminder of what happened with Josh just moments ago. It’s a stark contrast to the exhaustion that weighs heavily on your shoulders, a potent reminder of the conflicting emotions swirling within you.

In the dim light of the bedroom, you catch a glimpse of Josh’s intense gaze, his eyes ablaze with desire.

He closes the door behind him, the click echoing in the silent room, his towering figure casting a shadow over you as he stands before you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. His massive body looms over yours, his presence dominating the space as he stares down at you with fiery eyes that seem to pierce through your very soul.

“I can’t get enough of you, baby,” he growls, his voice thick with emotion and raw desire. The words hang heavy in the air, charged with an urgency that sends a shiver down your spine. You can feel the heat radiating off him, his proximity igniting a fire within you.

Despite the exhaustion that still lingers in the depths of your being, you find yourself drawn to him like a moth to a flame, unable to resist the magnetic pull of his presence. His words wash over you like a tidal wave, stirring something primal and untamed deep within you.

As you meet his gaze, you can see the hunger burning in his eyes, a hunger that mirrors your own as you stand on the precipice of desire, teetering on the edge of something wild and unrestrained. 

With a forceful motion, he throws you onto the bed, the impact sending a jolt of electricity coursing through your body. You land with a soft thud, the mattress yielding beneath your weight as you find yourself sprawled out before him.

As you try to catch your breath, you feel his hand wrap around your throat, the pressure firm yet strangely gentle, sending a thrill of anticipation racing down your spine. His touch is possessive, a silent declaration of ownership that sends a shiver of excitement coursing through your veins.

“You belong to me now,” he whispers, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. His words hang in the air, heavy with promise and desire, as he asserts his dominance over you.

With deliberate movements, he climbs onto the bed, positioning himself between your legs as he gazes down at you with a hunger that leaves you breathless. His eyes are dark pools of desire, burning with an intensity that threatens to consume you whole.

As he hovers over you, his hand firm against your throat, a faint perfume wafts through the air, tickling your senses with its familiar scent. In the dim light of the room, you recognise it instantly - Renais, his wife’s signature fragrance. The realisation sends a chill down your spine, mingling with the heat of desire that still courses through your veins.

Suddenly, you feel the weight of his wedding band pressing against your throat, a cold reminder of the reality of the situation. It’s a stark contrast to the fiery passion that burns between you, a sobering reminder of the boundaries that exist in this forbidden tryst.

In the depths of your mind, a voice whispers warnings of the consequences that loom on the horizon, a reminder of the tangled web of deceit and desire that threatens to ensnare you both. But in the heat of the moment, those warnings fall on deaf ears, drowned out by the primal urge that drives you forward.

As he leans in closer, his breath hot against your skin, you can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt gnawing at your conscience. But it’s quickly drowned out by the overwhelming need that pulses through your veins, urging you to surrender yourself completely to the intoxicating allure of forbidden desire.

His lips crash against yours with an urgency that leaves you breathless, his kiss rough and demanding, a declaration of his desire. At that moment, all thoughts of guilt and consequence vanish, replaced by the searing heat of his touch and the intoxicating taste of his lips.

You respond eagerly, yielding to the fervent intensity of his kiss, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pull him closer, desperate for more. The world fades away around you, consumed by the fiery passion that ignites between you, leaving only the two of you locked in a passionate embrace.

With each brush of his lips against yours, you feel yourself falling deeper under his spell, lost in the heady whirlwind of desire that threatens to consume you whole. 

Feeling the weight of his body pressing down on you, a sudden awareness strikes you like a bolt of lightning - he’s fully clothed while you remain bare and exposed, a stark contrast that sends a shiver down your spine. The only thing that’s uncovered is his soft cock that you feel against your thigh. 

In a desperate bid to bridge the gap between you, to regain some sense of equilibrium in this uneven playing field, you reach for the fabric of his shirt. Your fingers tremble as you fumble with the buttons, your movements fueled by a mix of urgency and desire. With each button you undo, the tension in the room ratchets up another notch, the air crackling with anticipation.

As the fabric falls away, revealing the contours of his chest and the sinewy muscles that ripple beneath his skin, you’re struck by just how good he looks. With trembling hands, you push the shirt down his arms.

His physique is a sight to behold, a perfect mix of strength and grace that leaves you breathless. His arms are defined and powerful, the muscles flexing beneath the surface as he moves. And his chest, adorned with a light dusting of chest hair, rises and falls with each ragged breath, a testament to the intensity of the moment.

In the dim light of the room, his features are cast in shadow, adding an air of mystery to his already alluring presence. But despite the darkness that surrounds him, there’s no mistaking the hunger in his eyes, the maddening desire that burns within him.

“Get me hard again,” he tells you, his voice a low growl that sends a shiver down your spine. “Be my good girl, yes?”

His words ignite a surge of arousal within you, coursing through your veins like wildfire as you realise the power of his praise. 

In that moment, you realise just how much you crave his approval, how much you long to please him in every way possible. And as his words sink in, you feel a newfound sense of purpose wash over you, driving you to fulfil his every desire with a fervor you never knew you possessed. With a sense of determination, you set out to do just as he commands, eager to prove yourself as his obedient and eager girl.

He lays himself down on his back, a picture of casual confidence, and crosses his arms behind his head. His gaze meets yours, an eyebrow raised in silent expectation as if to say, go on, do it.

You lower yourself onto your knees, positioning yourself exactly where he wants you, his soft cock just in front of you, glistening and coated in both your releases.

Even soft, you notice that he is quite big, with a vein on the underside of it and embedded in a well-groomed nest of dark hair. 

His gaze remains fixed on yours, a silent invitation urging you to continue. And as you lean in closer, the air crackles with electricity, charged with the promise of what’s to come.

“That’s right, take my cock into your mouth,” his voice commands, resonating with authority as he reaches out to guide his dick with his big hands, holding it steady for you to take.

His directive sends a shiver down your spine, and with a sense of obedience, you lean forward, your lips parting to welcome him eagerly. As your mouth envelops him, your lips slowly stretch around the head of his cock, your tongue swirling around the slit. 

You feel a surge of satisfaction knowing that you’re fulfilling his wishes. He is heavy and hot against your tongue as you taste the combination of yourself and him on it.

He grins wickedly as he watches his cock harden in your mouth. The sight of you submitting to him ignites a fire within him. 

His hands guide you, steady and firm, as you take him deeper, savouring the taste and texture of him. Each movement is deliberate, calculated to bring him the utmost pleasure. And as you follow his lead, you feel a sense of empowerment wash over you, knowing that you have the power to drive him wild with desire.

A whimper escapes you as he presses his cock deeper into your mouth, eliciting a gag that you struggle to suppress. The sensation is overwhelming, the pressure building as you try to accommodate him. Despite your efforts, you can’t help but gag more.

His grip tightens on your head, his hands exerting control as he guides you through each movement. His eyes darken at the sight of you struggling to take him deep into your throat, causing him to swell even more within you. 

“That’s my little slut, taking me without any trouble,” he growls out, his voice dripping with a mix of pride and lust as he watches you struggle with his girth in your mouth.

His words send a shiver down your spine, a heady mixture of shame and arousal coursing through your veins. Despite the discomfort, there’s a perverse sense of satisfaction in being called his slut, a twisted validation of your submission to him.

Each gag is met with a grunt of approval from him, his grip tightening on your head as he revels in your obedience. You feel tears welling up in your eyes as he hits your uvula, causing you to pull back slightly in discomfort.

“Don’t be a bad girl,” he reprimands, his voice firm as he reaches down to pull your hair roughly, forcing you to take more of his cock.

His grip is relentless, his fingers tangled in your hair as he exerts control over you. Despite the tears streaming down your face, you can’t help but obey, the fear of his reprimand driving you to comply with his demands.

You choke back a sob as he pushes deeper into your mouth, the sensation overwhelming as he fills you completely. Each movement is met with a sharp tug on your hair, a reminder of who is in control.

As you struggle to suppress your gag reflex, you feel a sense of helplessness wash over you, a realisation that you are completely at his mercy. 

“That’s it, take it like the dirty little slut you are,” he growls out, his voice thick with desire as he starts to thrust his hips forward, fucking your mouth roughly. Each movement drives his cock deeper into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat with each forceful thrust, making you gag even more.

The sensation is overwhelming, the pressure building in your chest as you struggle to accommodate him. 

You use the flat of your hands to push down on his hip, desperately trying to create some distance between you and him as spots start to dance in the corners of your eyes.

“I thought you were my good girl?” Josh chuckles, his voice laced with amusement as he easily overpowers your feeble attempts to resist. With a swift motion, he pins your wrists above your head with one hand, the other still tightly gripping your hair. Despite your struggles, his cock continues to push further into your throat with every thrust, leaving you gasping for air and completely at his mercy.

The pressure on your wrists is almost unbearable, the sensation of being held down fueling your sense of helplessness. You can feel his control tightening around you, his dominance asserting itself in every forceful movement.

As you struggle against his grip, the realisation sinks in that you’re completely powerless to stop him. All you can do is submit to his will, surrendering yourself to the pleasure and pain of his relentless possession.

“That’s it,” Josh groans out, his voice thick with desire as he notices your surrender. With renewed determination, he continues to thrust his hips forward, driving his thick shaft deeper into your throat with each powerful stroke.

The sensation is overwhelming, the relentless pressure pushing you to your limits as you struggle to accommodate him. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure and pain coursing through your body, blurring the lines between ecstasy and agony.

But despite the discomfort, there’s a perverse sense of satisfaction in knowing that you’re fulfilling his desires, that you’re giving yourself over completely to his dominance. And as he continues to push deeper and deeper, you find yourself lost in the intoxicating whirlwind of submission, unable to resist the overwhelming pleasure that consumes you.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Josh growls out as he bottoms out, his cock hitting the back of your throat, eliciting a muffled moan from you. With a soft pop, he withdraws slightly before thrusting harder and faster, taking advantage of the tightness of your mouth around his girth.

Each powerful thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, igniting a fire of desire that burns hotter with each passing moment. You’re completely at his mercy, completely consumed by the raw intensity of the moment.

Despite the discomfort and the overwhelming sensation of being filled to the brim, there’s an undeniable thrill in surrendering to his primal urges, in giving yourself over completely to his dominance. 

“That’s enough,” he growls out, finally pulling out of your throat. You cough and splutter, your throat raw from the rough treatment he’s given you, tears streaming down your cheeks.

As you catch your breath, you glance over at him, sprawled out on the bed with an air of satisfaction. His eyes, dark and intense, meet yours, and a mischievous smirk plays at the corners of his lips. Beads of sweat dot his forehead and chest, accentuating the contours of his toned physique.

Despite the rough treatment you’ve endured, there’s an undeniable allure to his presence as he lies there, completely in control. His dominance hangs heavy in the air, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. You find yourself unable to look away, captivated by the raw power he exudes.

With each breath he takes, you feel a surge of desire course through you, mingling with the lingering traces of fear. It’s a heady mix of emotions, one that leaves you both exhilarated and apprehensive. 

“Now that was a fucking good blowjob, you little slut,” Josh smirks at you, his voice heavy with satisfaction as his cock stands proudly and leaks pre-cum. He tugs on your hair again, gently but firmly, pulling your face up to meet his gaze.

You meet his gaze, your eyes locking with his, and you can see the hunger burning behind his darkened irises. It’s a look that sends a thrill of anticipation through you, knowing that he’s not finished with you yet.

With a soft whimper, you lean into his touch, surrendering yourself to his control once more. 

“You’re going to love this, baby,” he growls, his voice low and threatening. Before you can react, he kisses you roughly, his lips possessing yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless. With a swift motion, he flips you over, pinning you beneath him as he settles on top.

His weight presses you into the mattress, sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through your veins. Despite the forcefulness of his actions, there’s an undeniable heat in his touch that ignites a fire within you. You can feel the strength of his body against yours, his muscles tense with desire as he holds you captive beneath him.

As he leans down to capture your lips again, you can’t help but lose yourself in the heat of the moment, surrendering to the passion that consumes you both. 

With a firm grip, he pins your wrists above your head, holding them in place with one hand while using the other to spread your legs wide open.

Your eyes widen as he reaches for something on the nightstand, and you feel a surge of apprehension when you see that it’s rope. Your heart races with a mixture of excitement and fear as you realise what he intends to do with it.

He smirks at your reaction, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he holds up the coil of rope, letting it dangle tantalisingly between his fingers. With deliberate slowness, he begins to unravel it, the length of the rope glinting in the dim light of the bedroom.

Josh’s grin widens into a wicked smirk as he deftly ties your wrists and ankles to the bedposts, securing the ropes with practised precision. Each knot is firm, leaving you completely immobilised and at his mercy.

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest as you lie there, bound and helpless, the sensation of vulnerability sending shivers down your spine. But beneath the fear, there’s an undeniable thrill coursing through your veins, the anticipation of what’s to come heightening your arousal.

As Josh steps back to admire his handiwork, you can’t help but feel a rush of excitement mixed with a hint of trepidation. 

He then moves between your legs again and parts your already fucked pussy with his two hands, revealing how wet you are. You feel the cold air on your heated cunt and buck your hips involuntarily while simultaneously clenching your pussy, feeling more of his cum drip out onto the sheets. 

Exposed and vulnerable, you can’t shake the feeling of self-consciousness that washes over you as you lie there, bound and completely open before Josh and you squirm.

Josh’s eyes narrow as he observes your futile attempts to escape his gaze as he drinks in the sight before him. 

As he leans in closer, his breath hot against your skin, you can feel the raw intensity of his desire coursing through you, sending shivers down your spine. 

Your breath catches in your throat as you watch Josh raise his hand, anticipation coursing through your veins like electricity. With a sharp intake of breath, you brace yourself for the impact, knowing that the sting of his touch will send waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

When his hand finally makes contact with your bare cunt, the sensation is both exhilarating and intense. A sharp gasp escapes your lips as the force of his touch leaves a red print behind, the sting mingling with the throbbing heat that radiates from the point of impact.

Despite the initial shock, you find yourself craving more, your body responding instinctively to the delicious mixture of pain and pleasure that Josh’s touch elicits. 

Josh’s chuckle reverberates in the room, a sound that sends a shiver down your spine as you feel a flush of embarrassment wash over you. Yet, despite the heat rising in your cheeks, there’s also a sense of exhilaration coursing through your veins, a thrill at being so completely under his control.

As Josh continues to deliver alternating slaps to your pussy, thighs and lower belly, the sensations become increasingly overwhelming, each impact sending a jolt of pleasure shooting through your body. Your mind becomes foggy, consumed by the raw intensity of the moment as you surrender yourself to the exquisite torment of his touch.

With each stroke of his hand, the line between pain and pleasure blurs, the sensations merging into a symphony of ecstasy that leaves you gasping for breath. And as Josh teases your clit with his thumb, you find yourself completely lost in the moment, unable to think of anything but the overwhelming desire that courses through your veins.

His other hand grips the base of his cock, stroking it in rhythm with each slap.

“That’s it, baby,” he growls, his voice low and threatening. With each spank, he increases the force, leaving angry red marks blossoming across your thighs, cunt and lower belly. The sting intensifies with each strike, sending waves of sensation rippling through your body. 

You struggle against the ropes, your body straining against the bonds as you watch Josh’s lips curl into a predatory smile. His eyes gleam with desire as he observes your futile attempts to free yourself from the tight restraints that bind you.

With a final hard slap to your skin, leaving a particularly angry red mark in its wake, Josh withdraws his hand, the sound echoing in the room. He moves between your spread legs, his presence looming over you like a dark shadow and his cock twitching in anticipation.

“Say my name when you come,” he growls, his voice low and rough, sending shivers down your spine. The command hangs in the air, heavy with anticipation, as you feel a surge of arousal coursing through your veins at his words.

Almost instinctively, you arch your back and buck your hips against him, a desperate attempt to feel more of him, to draw him closer. The movement elicits a deep groan from Josh as he positions the head of his cock at the entrance to your wet pussy and thrusts forward powerfully, burying himself to the hilt in one swift motion, eliciting an obscenely loud squelching noise. 

“Fuck.”

As the sensations overwhelm you, your body responds instinctively, and you’re sent hurtling over the edge of ecstasy. It hits you so unexpectedly and intensely that, for a brief moment, it feels like everything else fades away. Your senses are consumed by the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins, and you feel like you’re on the brink of blacking out.

Through the haze of pleasure, you hear Josh’s voice, husky and commanding, urging you to say his name. It’s a demand that sends a shiver down your spine, intensifying the sensations pulsing through your body. You feel his grip on your hips tighten as he thrusts into you with unrestrained passion, driving you further into the depths of bliss. Every movement, every touch, sends waves of pleasure crashing over you, leaving you breathless and trembling in ecstasy.

He continues to pound into you, fucking you through your intense orgasm that feels neverending.

“You’re mine now,” Josh’s hands grip your hips tightly, leaving more red handprints as he continues to fuck you with a brutal intensity, his fingers digging into your skin as if to brand you as his own. 

As his teeth graze your neck and shoulder, leaving behind a trail of painful but exhilarating marks once more, a rush of sensation courses through you, blending pleasure with a hint of pain. Yet, strangely, it only serves to heighten your pleasure, drawing you deeper into his spell.

You can feel the heat of his body against yours, his breath hot against your skin as he claims you with an almost primal ferocity.

At this moment, there is no room for hesitation or restraint. You surrender to the relentless onslaught of sensations, giving yourself over completely to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins. Every movement, every touch, sends electric jolts of ecstasy racing through your body, igniting a firestorm of desire that threatens to consume you whole.

As Josh continues to possess you with a brutal intensity, his dominance over you becomes undeniable. 

“That’s it, baby. Scream my name,” he growls, his cock throbbing and his voice thick with desire as he feels you approaching another orgasm. 

With each thrust, he drives deeper into you, his movements becoming more urgent and forceful as he seeks to send you spiralling into ecstasy once more.

Your body quivers with anticipation as Josh’s words drive you to the brink of ecstasy. With each powerful thrust, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of release, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the pleasure coursing through you. You can feel every movement, every sensation magnified as Josh’s relentless assault pushes you closer and closer to the edge.

“Yes...Come for me,” he groans, his voice heavy with lust as he feels your walls tightening around him, signalling your impending climax. With each thrust, he drives deeper into you, the urgency in his movements matching the intensity of your pleasure. 

As you approach the peak of your pleasure, your mind becomes consumed by a single thought: Josh. His name echoes in your mind like a mantra, driving you further into the depths of ecstasy. And as you feel the wave of orgasmic bliss wash over you once again, you can’t help but obey his command, your voice rising in a primal scream of pleasure.

“Yes, yes,” he chants, his voice a husky whisper as he feels you come apart around him, your body trembling beneath him. The sight of your ecstasy only fuels his own, pushing him further into the depths of euphoria.

You know he’s close, and you struggle against the bindings again when you realise he will come inside you again. “No, Josh, not again,” you plead, the urgency evident in your voice as you try to convey your concern.

Despite your protests, Josh’s dark chuckle sends shivers down your spine, his tone filled with determination and dominance. “Oh yes, and you’ll take it again,” he promises, his thrusts growing more forceful as he edges closer to his climax, "Don't pretend that you don't like it - that you don't crave to feel my cum deep inside you."

As you whimper and moan, Josh only seems to grow more determined. Roughly, his thumb finds you clit again, rubbing hard and fast circles. 

He pushes you into another small orgasm, eliciting a mixture of pleasure and discomfort from you. He grunts in response, feeling your walls convulsing around him. His thrusts grow even more powerful as he pushes you over the edge once again.

“Fuck... yes...,” he groans, “You’re mine tonight.” He continues to pound into you, leaving more bruises and bite marks on your body as he takes ownership of you.

”I’m not going to stop until I fill you up,” he snarls, his thrusts becoming more erratic and powerful. He can feel his climax building once again, ready to claim you completely, "Fuck, you're gonna be so full it spills out of you."

Despite your struggles against the ropes, you find yourself helpless, unable to escape his relentless advance. Moans and whimpers escape your lips as you feel the inevitable approach of his next release, your body trembling with a mix of anticipation and fear.

“That’s it, baby. Take my cum,” he growls, his hips bucking wildly as he releases inside you. You feel the warm rush of his cum filling you, marking you as his own as your mind becomes blissfully quiet.

He continues to thrust deeply until every last drop is buried deep within your cunt, claiming you completely and marking you as his own, before finally pulling out with a wet, satisfying sound. His eyes are dark and predatory as he looks down at you, catching his breath.

“You’re such a slut.” He mutters, his eyes fixed on your dripping pussy. His fingers trail down your skin, tracing the path of his cum as it drips from your twitching and gaping pussy. 

“I bet you’re going to be so sore tomorrow,” he whispers, a wicked grin spreading across his lips.

With a final lingering glance, Josh leans in close, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re mine now,” he whispers, his voice laced with possessiveness.

As Josh’s lips graze the shell of your ear, a shiver runs down your spine, sending goosebumps rippling across your skin. His touch, once dominating and rough, now feels surprisingly gentle against your sensitive flesh as he runs his fingers over the countless red and purple marks he’s left on your skin.

With a sense of relief, you feel the ropes around your wrists and ankles loosen, allowing you to move freely once again. As Josh unties you, you can’t help but feel a mix of emotions swirling inside you - a potent blend of desire, confusion, and a lingering sense of vulnerability.

As the last knot comes undone, you find yourself looking up at Josh, searching his eyes for any trace of the intensity that had consumed him moments before. But all you see is a softness, a hint of tenderness that belies the roughness of his previous actions. Almost unwillingly, you yawn, the bone-deep exhaustion now evident that you're able to come down.

“Sleep now, baby,” he murmurs, his voice tender. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

With those words, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close in a comforting embrace as you start to sink into a deep sleep, overwhelmed by the situation and thoroughly fucked out.

[lucrezia-borgia]

hey babes. this makes me quite uncomfortable, but i’m in urgent need of financial help. i know many people are strapped for cash right now and need to hold onto their money, but if anyone has a few cents left over, i would be eternally grateful for a small donation 🙏 the money would be used for food, medication, and rent.

i suffer from severe depression and have a job, so my energy and time is limited. therefore, i can’t offer much in return except maybe a small gif set as a thank you for the donation. i’m unable to do anything fancy, but perhaps i could gif a sequence or scene of your choice. (examples: x, x, x, x)

HERE is a link to my ko-fi!

signal boosts are appreciated 💜 thank you, and i’m sorry for bothering you with this.

you can find a list of the media i’d gif under the cut:

[breakfastteatime]

Today's Fallen Order request is Biohazard for @ledeni-tm

“No.”

Cal stands at the bottom of the ramp and stares up at Greez, haloed in the ship’s internal lighting. “Huh?”

Greez points, specifically at the poncho Cal as clutched in his hand. “No more. Not a single one. By the gods, Cal, I can smell the damn thing from here.”

Cal holds it up to demonstrate the very funky pattern it has. Best of all, it’s a nice, thick wool. Once it’s clean and dry, it’ll be a favourite for sure. “I need it, Greez. It’s mine.”

“I understand and accept that five years on Bracca has ruined your sense of smell, but me and Cere? Ours is fine. And as such, we can smell that little poncho selection of yours no matter what we do. So, the following are your options – get rid of them all and we’ll find you a nice new one in a store that doesn’t sell actual biohazards.”

“Not happening.”

BD backs him up with a rude squeal.

Hands held up in a pacifying gesture, Greez waits for silence. “Or you stay out there and do some laundry.”

The sky overhead is thick with the promise of a snowstorm. Cal’s hands are cold and stiff from his journey across Zeffo. He’s tired and hungry, thoughts of dinner getting him through the lengthy journey back to the ship. He doesn’t particularly want to stay outside, but he also refuses to give up a single one of his ponchos. They’re his. All of them. He found them, and sure, maybe some are coated in mildew, and others have a smell he can’t quite get rid of, but none of them are actual biohazards…

…are they?

“Are they?” he asks BD.

BD’s scans suggest a couple might host bacteria unsafe for most organics, and while he has no capacity to smell, scans would indicate unpleasant odours would be a side effect of said bacteria.

“Fine,” Cal says. “I guess it’s laundry day.”

Greez’s ominous laugh echoes down from the ship. “I knew you’d say that.” He returns with a large container (honestly, it’s large enough to stuff Greez himself into). “Fill this with water. I’ve got various detergents to clean these things up.”

“I do wash them!” Cal insists.

“With appropriate laundry detergents, or with soap when you shower? Or does going for a swim in a poncho count as washing them?”

Opting for tactical silence, Cal places the new poncho into the container and plods onto the ship with it. He fills the container in the shower as it won’t fit under the sink, then lugs it back outside. He places it down and returns to the engine room to fetch all his ponchos. He puts them all inside.

“Now, watch a master at work.” Greez adds a blend of detergents and something called fabric conditioner to the water. It all sounds like a waste of credits to Cal. Greez also adds an entire bottle of disinfectant and gives the whole barrel a mix with a stick. “We’re gonna let this stew for a while before you heft it all back inside and stick them in the machine to spin. After that, we’ll bring them back out here to air dry. Might take a while, given how cold it is, but it will help with the stench.”

“Are they really that bad?”

“Worse.”

“I’m sorry, Greez.”

Greez looks up from his stirring. “Why do you always make me feel so bad about stuff, even when you’re in the wrong and I’m definitely in the right?”

BD suggests it’s a Jedi thing. Cal smiles. “I didn’t mean to,” he offers.

“See? There you go doing it again. Listen, kid, honestly, I wish you wouldn’t bring back stuff you find on these planets. I’m sure we can find you something during a supply run. However, I get that you like them and therefore you gotta meet me midway – keep ‘em, but clean ‘em. Properly. None of your wash your clothes while you shower or swim nonsense. And if you’re taking a breath to tell me that’s how it was done on Bracca, I do not wanna know.”

Cal breathes out and closes his mouth.

“You don’t have to live like you’re a credit away from financial ruin. We’re not multimillionaires, but we’re not broke. And if you don’t know how to use the machine, ask. I’m not gonna judge.”

“Thanks, Greez.”

“And maybe don’t stuff wet clothes into a box under your bed.”

“But – ”

“Ah! What did I say about Bracca?”

“You don’t wanna know.”

“Atta boy.”

[wonnieluvr]

bells

pairing -> xander hawthorne x fem!reader

summary -> you buy xander a charm bracelet for your anniversary. now you can’t help the smile on your face when you hear those bells.

warnings -> you may die of cuteness, a little bit of financial um brokeness? mentioned 😭

a/n -> my first xander fic omg i love him so so so much :((( this sort of went off the rails but i think its still cute! (i'm nervous writing xander idk if i got his character right ahhhh)

in your defence, you hadn't realised when you'd bought the bracelet just how loud it was.

xander was a hard person to buy presents for. not because you didn't know him, you knew everything there was to know about him, he was your boyfriend after all, there was no one else you wanted to remember the little details about. it was more so that, well.. he was rich.

he had all that he could possibly ask for- material wise anyways- and it never took long for him to get his hands on anything. admittedly, you knew that it didn't always come from money (something you had heard about stolen car pieces) but it sure helped if anyone ever came looking for their belongings. you hadn't approved of that method but what could you do now? the current problem was something a little different..

you had taken avery shopping, in desperate need of the perfect present for your boyfriend. it was your 1 year anniversary and you had been stressing yourself out. it had to be the best present ever.

but when you had seen the bracelet.. oh god, he had to have it. you had your heart set on it, it was absolutely perfect for him. avery had tried to dissuade you when you had seen the price tag (you hadn't let her even offer to pay despite her recently acquired riches), suggesting you could find something else just as good for xander. but you couldn't tear your eyes away from bracelet. what absolutely sold you, however, was the accompanying charms, ready to be added year after year. your eyes were glued to the one of little robot and one of a heart, already imagining it on his wrist.

"i have to get it, ave" she had frowned, concerned, as you stayed pressed to the glass, staring longingly at the present. you were trying to convince yourself more than her, she knew that, you were fighting against yourself (and your bank account probably), trying to justify the purchase.

"its perfect" avery didn't know about that but she took your word for it, internally debating for herself if it was the best option.

"just get it, y/n/n" she finally sighed, shaking her head as your eyes lit up. "if you think it's worth it, get it"

and so you had, robot charms and all. and how glad you were you did.

he had even teared up when you beamed at him, so wide and looking as happy as you had ever felt. you were so sweet to him, he had sniffled, flushing and looking away as he asked you to put it on for him. he was never one to lose his confidence but you made the words escape him, he couldn't think straight when you stared at him like that, like he was your whole world.

not only had xander loved it- as you knew he would- he wore it everywhere. he never took it off, not that you knew of.

not even when the teasing started.

the teasing, you grinned at the thought. jameson had been the first to notice. every single time your boyfriend entered the room, jameson had smirked, chuckling and loudly exclaiming "y/n! your cat's here!"

you hadn't understood at first, sharing a confused look with xander as his tall form flopped beside you on the couch. it had taken you precisely two more comments to realise. he was ringing. you could hear him from rooms away, his entrance announced before he even made it into sight.

xander was an expressive person, he often used his hand when he talked, something you loved as he was so passionate and happy to share things with you. you had loved his rants before but you loved them even more now.

grayson had been the one to raise an eyebrow this time. you had been coming down to eat dinner when he had asked where xander was. before you could answer, you heard it. the ringing. it was high pitched and cute, sounding exactly like the bells on a cat's collar, alerting you of their presence immediately. seconds later, xander had bounded around the corner, a smile on his face. grayson had offered you an amused look as you both turned to each other, wide eyed.

"what was that?" xander frowned, a cheeky pout that never stuck long around you. "oh! are you conspiring against me? how dare you?!" he finished his dramatic cry with a poke to your ribs, beginning to tickle you. you laughed loudly, surprised and quickly pulling your arms down to cover your stomach from his onslaught.

"stop!" you cried out, grinning. "xander" you whined, stepping away from him and quickly moving to take a seat. he merely smiled after you, following diligently. your attention was caught again by the ringing on his wrist as he pulled out the chair beside you.

you tried to bite down the amused smile on your lips, not wanting him to notice in case he hated it (not that he ever would). xander had eyed you a moment longer, pondering and his gaze intense as he tried to work you out. he had given up when everyone begun eating, quickly becoming more interested in the food in front of him that whatever mischief you may have been up to.

there was always time to interrogate you later. and he had, just not until your own comments started.

you had been waiting for him to realise, it never usually took him long to work out what you were talking about. like jameson had, you begun to call out to him when he rounded the corner. he could no longer surprise you in hallways and scare you around corners, you could hear him coming.

for a few days he had only pouted and claimed you had some sort of sudden superpowered sense. you had laughed, in disbelief that he still hadn't realised. had he really not heard how loud the charms on his wrist were? you found it hard to believe with all of his genius that he couldn't work it out.

"here, kitty kitty" you called, wandering the hallways in search of your boyfriend. he had raised an eyebrow at the nickname at first but quickly got used to it.

he tended to disappear sometimes in the vast house. finding him was all part of the fun. when you did find him, it was in his room. you felt a little silly for not thinking of there first but it wasn't often he was in here when he could be anywhere else.

he froze as you opened the door, already suspicious.

"xander?" you cautiously eyed him, stepping into the room. you both watched each other for a moment, in a stalemate before your eyes drifted to his hands. he was in the middle of hiding a box, looking much like the one you had gifted him a few weeks ago. "what are you doing? is that-?"

he straightened up immediately, slightly embarrassed at being caught, he was usually good at distractions but there was not much he could do now that he had been caught. he held the box behind his back, mouth opening to come up with something to draw away your attention but you knew him.

"don't you dare distract me right now" you held up a finger in warning, eyes narrowing playfully. "why do you have a bracelet box?"

you paused, mind running wild with thoughts, one sticking out painfully. it jabbed at your chest and you lost all teasing in an instant, expression dropping.

"do you.. are you-" you begun, throat tightening.

he caught on almost as quickly as the thought came to you. "no!"

he jumped, closing the distance in quick strides. his hands came up to hold your upper arms, forcing you to look at him. you could feel the box press into your skin, hear the faint jingle of the bracelet. "it's for you" he held it out to you, hesitant.

your gaze was drawn to his wrist where your gift rested, unmoving since you had given it to him. you heart filled with warmth again, shining eyes meeting his.

"for me?" you whispered quietly, hands taking the box from him and gently lifting the lid to find a bracelet, once almost identical to one adorning his skin. he chewed on his lip, a grin threatening to spread across his lips in excitement.

"do you like it?" despite how sure of himself he was, you could always hear the underlying uncertainty, the worry you may not approve. you could feel tears slightly welling up, blinking harshly to hold them back as you took note of the scone charm.

"to remind you of me" he clarified, beginning to ramble the longer you took to say something. he was nervous. "i suppose i could have gotten you a better charm, i should have gotten one to suit you. but you mean as much to me as scones! not to compare you to food, but you know what i mean! i love you more than scones. you're so pretty and sometimes i just don't know what to say-"

"xander" you couldn't help the tears in your eyes this time. you loved him so much. "thank you" you whispered softly, nothing could take away the smile on your face right now.

"i love it. i love you" you held out your hand to let him put it on for you. when he had done the clasp up, you took his hand in yours, shaking them to hear the matching ringing. "two cats" you offhandedly joked, still basking in your glee.

his eyes widened, shaking your intertwined hands again. "cat collars"

"you actually didn't get that?" your own eyes widened, staring at him in shock. you both stared at each for a moment longer before dissolving into giggles.

[cozycottagetarot]

Trials and Tribulations with your Future Spouse

Pile 1 -> 3

This reading is all about hardships you may face at some point along the journey of being with your future spouse. It's also a repost of the original as I accidentally deleted it. 👀 It's lightly edited, but it's been a while so I can't offer clarifications on much.

PILE 1

Hello pile 1! In the beginning of you knowing each other, or prior to knowing each other, your future spouse may have struggled or at the time may be struggling financially. Through the cards, I see them having financial struggles/money or money loss until you come along. I feel like you guys may meet when you (the person reading this) are young (college/university age maybe). I see you *kind of* put up with their B.S until you realise they’re not making an effort to fix themselves financially. What I mean is sometimes when you’re (objective) with someone casually (romantic or platonic) you may not care as much about what someone does until their presence in your life starts to become more serious. Then it’s a matter of ‘how will their actions affect me/them/us?’. 

After that I see you guys flipping the switch. You go from being their ideal person to this cold, independent (not to say you weren’t before, they’re just realising how independent you are) person. You’d threaten to walk away if they don’t clean up their financial situation, and I feel like in the end you do. But that can’t be the end of the story, right? After pulling a second set of cards the story shifts. Your future spouse, now having realise they’ve lost you, work on getting their finances in order and succeed. Once they do this, it’s a matter to them of being able to ‘win you back’. In my mind I get an image of someone showing up at the other's environment (work, home, hangout) looking dapper/classy with flowers or some other gift, along with the verbal offering to start over. I see you assessing them and realising they have made a complete 180 in the way they are presenting themself, but still, it’s up to you to decide if you reconcile or cut them off altogether. I feel like you do agree to a fresh start in the end because there’s The Fool. Through the images on the cards, I imagine you guys are able to move past this trial and have a passionate and romantic relationship together. They become someone dependable, loyal and hardworking and you return to your softer, more gentle energy with them.

PILE 2 

This whole reading I felt absolutely nothing lol. What I mean by that is, that I felt so in control of my general being the whole entire time, it was so unusual. Pretty please, what’s your secret to being so chill? 😆. Jokes aside, I think between you and your future spouse, you’ll be the more calm and controlled one. The ‘Present One’, while they might more often find themself in la la land. In the cards, from their meanings and images, I see your potential trial & tribulation between you and your future spouse being a lack of recognition in how much you do for them. I don’t mean in a materialistic or caretaking kind of way but in the sense of reminding them there’s a doorway that leads out of that headspace. You both show up for each other in the relationship, helping care for the other when they need some extra help. Your future spouse knows this and is grateful for it. 

What they tend to not be aware of however, is how often you kind of put a halt to them getting stuck in their head. For the situation that is showing up, there are a lot of pentacles so I’m going with a career related explanation. Your future spouse may get so invested in or overwhelmed by their work that they may find themselves focused on it 24/7 constantly mulling over ideas and solutions. You would notice and respond with a *insert caring sigh* 'Here we go again'. 

The solution? There’s this level-headed energy, so I think you would bring it up with something as simple as a playful nudge over dinner, letting them know what’s going on and how you feel. They would realise that they’ve been so focused on their work and so in their head, they didn’t even see how you were working to keep the sun shining for them. Your future spouse would come to understand that it hasn’t been an equal give-and-take lately, and would want to correct it quickly. Obviously, it’s not something that can happen overnight, but I do see them learning to better control their mental focus, along with where they are investing their time and gaining balance. The end outcome is a restoration of harmony between you both, and you’re future spouse learning to be more present. 

PILE 3 

Pile 3, I’m going to be honest with you ✋I don’t see any seriousness to this relationship when this ‘trial’ is going on. It more seems like the trial is getting to one another… as in you two haven’t even met??? I pick up on a third-party situation in the sense of hardships presenting in your individual lives (one or both of you) and creating a blockage or stagnation. The cards come across so heavy, particularly the court cards since they are reversed. It makes me think that you (again could be you, your FS or both) are not in the ‘energy’ you’re meant to be in. But a happy ending awaits once you move away from those hardships. I asked about the hardship and The Hermit and Four of Cups came out, so I think it’s just a matter of some part of your life isn’t giving the results you want, or is causing you pain, so you’re rejecting it. 

You know it’s not what you want, but you’re still kind of confused. I think the solution that leads to the ‘happy beginning’ is acceptance and peace of mind. Knowing there’s only so much you can control, only so much you can do and realising that you are doing it already, or taking the action to do the things that you can do. From there stems this inner peace, happiness, contentment, and a sense of freedom. The end outcome is a new beginning which I then believe will lead to you meeting your future spouse.

So to summarize (since I’m not sure how well I explained that), your trial & tribulation to getting with your future spouse is a matter of making adjustments to your life so it aligns with something that brings you peace inside. 

I just see heaviness and reversed court cards making me think of not being in the energy you were meant to be in. But there is a happy ending waiting for you both once you move away from those hardships. 

Disclaimer: All readings are based on current energies. I read tarot for self-reflection and guidance purposes, but as always, this reading is for fun and entertainment purposes only. Any reading I post is in no way meant to act as or replace professional advice of any kind. You know yourself and what’s going on in your life best so I ask that you trust yourself above all else. I cannot predict the future, and prediction readings are to be seen simply as a potential outcome. Finally, please take only what resonates from the reading which may be some of it, all of it, or none at all. 

[literary-motif]

Two Weeks

Alex x Reader

You continue sharing an apartment with Alex after he breaks up with you. The past weighs heavily.

“So is this going to be us intensely avoiding each other for as long as I stay here or—?” Alex let his sentence trail off. You did not turn around to face him, silently continuing to make yourself a cup of tea.

It was only for two weeks, after all. Two weeks, and you would be rid of him forever. 

Kicking him out of the apartment had felt like a cruelty you could not bring yourself to do to him. Two weeks had felt like nothing at all, considering the two years you had been together with him. You could continue living with him until his flight went to the US — at least you told yourself you could. 

“What do you want me to say?” you replied dismissively, picking up the cup and turning to face him. “Did you expect everything to stay the same?”

“No!” he said exasperatedly. 

His hair was disheveled. You knew he ran his hands through it repeatedly when he was frustrated. The thought that the situation weighed as heavily on him as it did on you offered you at least a little comfort.

You took a sip of your tea. 

“But I thought we could at least be civil — be friends, even!”

You could not help the incredulous laugh from slipping past your lips. “Friends?” you said, with a humorless chuckle. “Honestly Alex, you’re delusional. What did you think would happen? You broke up with me, telling me you were leaving the country in less than a month! What—? Do you think my life is a joke? Where do you think I— How am I supposed to afford this place alone? Did you think of that, huh? When you told the whole world that you got a prestigious job offer on the other end of the world, did you maybe consider that you were throwing me off the deep end with literally no warning?”

Alex blinked, opening his mouth to reply. He frowned. “You’re well off,” he said, sounding confused. “I never thought that this might be a problem for you. I— I can help you out with rent, I think.”

You shook your head, the fight leaving you with a deep sigh. “Don’t kid yourself,” you said, cradling the warm cup in your hands, “you might make enough to support yourself, but apartments in the States aren’t any cheaper than they are here.”

He sighed as well, leaning against the doorframe and biting his lip. “I’m sorry,” he said, suddenly sounding small. “I— I swear I didn’t mean to. There was just so much going on that I didn’t consider something so fundamental. I mean, I was uprooting my whole life, losing the person I loved” — the past tense stung — “I didn’t consider how leaving would be a financial problem for you.”

You waved a hand in dismissal. “I’ll figure it out,” you mumbled. 

Despite things seeming bleak — finding an affordable apartment in London in two weeks was next to impossible — you were confident that everything would click into place eventually. You could support yourself independently. Working at the law firm gave you enough stability to be alright without him. 

“What you did hurt me more than anything,” you said quietly, staring into your tea. “Part of me understands your reasoning, but being the last to know about the job offer you planned to accept from the beginning when your decision affected my life so much, felt like a betrayal.”

“I know,” he said, rummaging through a cupboard and pulling out a packet of his favorite biscuits. “After you accused me of cheating, I couldn’t— I couldn’t see you the same way.”

“You know I said that on a whim, right?” you said, looking at him. “It was a stupid accusation, and I didn’t believe it when I said it. You were gone so often that I didn’t know how to express my frustration. I thought you would deny it and move on, seeing it as the overreaction that it was. Instead—” you trailed off. “I didn’t know it would hurt you so much.”

He scoffed, taking a bite of his biscuit. “I can’t imagine anyone would brush off such an accusation. How would you have felt?”

“I see that now. Still, just because you were hurt and angry at me, it did not give you the right to shut me out completely like you did. I get that you thought our relationship had changed, but you did not even talk to me about it.”

“I couldn’t, you were too fixed on Natalie!” he said, raising his voice in frustration. “Every time I tried to talk to you, you made some snide comment about how ‘I was always with Natalie’ or how I was ‘going to go see Natalie,’ when I was working on my career! Do you remember what we said when we first met? Our career always comes first. Always!”

“Yes, but I didn’t love you back then!” you screamed. “How— what are we even comparing? I want to further my career. I would seize every opportunity, but never at the expense of our relationship! I— I always thought we would make it work. I imagined you flying from Paris to New York to take snapshots for magazines that would pay a fortune to have your amazing pictures, but you would be a phone call away when I lost a case. You would be here to give me a victory kiss when I won a tough one.”

“Yeah,” he said, holding out the packet of biscuits. You shook your head, and he gave you a sad smile. “I guess life doesn’t work out how we want it sometimes.”

You looked at him for a long moment, trying to find the person you so loved under the cloud of animosity that had hidden him away lately. 

“You know,” you began, taking a sip of your tea to gather the strength for the words you were about to say, “we could still try to work it out if you would be open to giving us another chance.”

Alex bit his lip, searching your gaze. He opened his mouth to reply. 

His phone rang, the caller flashing brightly where it lay on the kitchen table. Natalie. “Sorry, let me just—” he said, picking up the call. “We’ll talk later. I need to take this. Hello?” 

Your face fell. “Don’t bother,” you mumbled, watching him leave the kitchen.

Two weeks. You could do two weeks.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Bargain 2

Sequel to THIS

Warnings: financial stress and abuse, coercion, and some possible unmentioned triggers.

Character: Nick Fowler

Summary: Nick comes to reap his end of the deal.

As always, I appreciate all kinds of feedback. A like and reblog means so much to me! <3

Your mother thanks Constance for her tea. The nurse smiles and gives a soft ‘you’re welcome’ before offering anything else she may need. Your mother shakes her head and groans, lifting the steaming cup as hovers her hand over her hip, a gesture of her persistent pain.

She looks drawn. She doesn’t really have many good days. That day, she did her best. When you told her company was coming, she let you put on her makeup and chose favourite dress. Even though you told her she didn’t need to do all that. But you do.

You look down at yourself. A simple cobalt dress with short bishop sleeves. You did your best as well. That’s what you promised.

The doorbell rings. Constance comes out from the next room, “should I get that?” You nod, frozen in the silence. You wait and listen in dread. 

Nick enters but you don’t glance over. You see his shadow but refuse to see him. You fight to keep your cool. You not break and holler at him to leave. This isn’t about you.

“Ah, sorry, I’m late,” he comes to you and kisses your cheek, his hand on the small of your back before he steps away. He nears your mother, “you must be Angela.”

“It’s a pleasure,” your mother offers her hand. He takes it and bends to kiss her cheek as well, “oh, you are so polite,” she preens, “I’m sorry, I wish I could get up.”

“No, not at all,” he assures, “I trust your daughter explained that I have everything planned. I reserved a private walk down the greenhouse for us, I heard you're a fan of roses, then there’s a nice teahouse nearby. They do a great royal lunch.”

“That all sounds wonderful. I will try to keep my energy up.”

“Of course, Angela. If you feel like we need to go at any time,” he offers, “I’m just happy to finally get to meet you.”

“Me too. My daughter… she never keeps secrets. To be fair, this was the last secret I thought she’d ever keep. She’s not the sort for relationships.”

“Yes, I know. I did have to work at her,” he retreats to stand with you, “it was worth it.”

“Yeah, sorry, mom,” you force out through your tight throat.

Nick takes your hand, his palm rough against yours. 

“How rude of me, not to mention how beautiful you look, I love that colour on you, Angela,” he praises.

“Me, look at my daughter,” she swoons.

“Trust me, I can’t stop,” Nick turns to you, tugging you close. He presses his lips to your cheek again, “how lucky I am to get to do so for the rest of our lives.”

“Aw, so sweet,” your mother remarks, “I hope you don’t mind if I finish my tea first. I need the caffeine, my medications really tire me out.”

“Take your time, I’ll go get the car ready,” he affirms. He leans into you, lowering his voice as his lips tickle your temple, “I see you’re taking good care of her, sweetheart.”

You stiffen and nod, holding your smile. Your mother doesn’t notice the tension as she dabs a dribble of tea on her lip. She looks at the tissue dramatically. “Oh, dear, you’ll have to help me with my lipstick again.”

“Yes, mom,” you murmur.

“I’ll take good care of you,” Nick whispers sultrily against your ear, “as long as you do the same.”

He pulls back and pinches your chin between his thumb and knuckle. He makes you face him and you peer into his deep blue irises. He kisses you softly. Your mother aws from across the room.

“Now, let me just go get everything ready,” he squeezes your hand and slowly draws away, “this is going to be a great day, right, ladies?”

You nod and your mother sings her elation. Nick leaves and you stare after him. Your cheek twitches where he kissed it.

“He’s so nice, sweetheart,” your mother says airily, “I’m so happy you found someone like him. And his eyes, so gorgeous.”

“Mhmm,” you hum, and swallow tightly, “I’m so… lucky.”

[reversedanatomy]

Finding Peace: Chapter 2

Summary: More of an in-between from the last chapter. Reader processing emotions after the breakup and making big decisions.

TW: swearing, some mentions of violence

Denial. This was the first step of recovering from a breakup. The note Wanda had written for you the morning she left was unlike her. When there was a serious topic that needed to be addressed, she always preferred face-to-face conversations, even when she was away for long periods of time on her international trips. Your mind raced like cars on a track, revisiting the same thoughts again and again until you grew weary from worry. You settled on an unlikely, but possible conclusion that maybe she was kidnapped. Yes, you thought, her kidnapper forced her to write this note with the intent play it off like one of her work trips.

You knew this was stupid, but you held onto the idea that she would be coming back. You always left your cellphone ringer on, now, in the slim chance that Wanda would be contacting you. You’d rush to answer your phone at every buzz, ding, or alarm you heard, even when you were out with company.

Your mom started to worry. She knew the situation between you and Wanda had been rocky for some time, and she expressed her relief that you two had parted. She would call you frequently, however, to reassure you and offer for you to come visit and stay with her.

“Maybe what you need is a new change of scenery,” your mom quietly suggested. You held the phone in between your shoulder and ear as you cooked over the stovetop.

“Yeah, but I’ve got a job here that I can’t just leave,” you retorted. You went to check the vegetables you set in the oven.

“It’s a pretty big company you work for. Can’t you ask them to relocate you?” You opened the oven door, feeling the heat burn across your face. You reached to check if your carrots were fork tender, and you shot back as you accidentally bumped your hand on the hot glass baking dish. You bit your tongue to keep yourself quiet, but the phone dropped to the floor.

“Shit, mom, I’m sorry,” you went to pick the phone back up and return it to your ear. “I missed what you said.”

“Don’t swear at me, Y/N,” your mother was direct.

“I’m sorry.”

“What I was saying was that you should ask to be relocated. Your lease is ending soon, and I know rent is increasing where you’re at. Without Wanda there, you’re going to need some help staying financially secure in a place like Chicago.” She was right. You didn’t have much of an option once your lease ended. You could either move somewhere cheaper, alone, or move back in with your mom in southern California. Both options stressed you. “I’ve already looked into it. There’s a position opening up to be a direct assistant under management here. It’s a bit less than what you make now, but, with your dad and I making dual income, you can stay here rent-free and bulk up your savings.”

“I’ll think about it.” If you gave her an open-ended answer, she’d pressure you less.

“Alright, hon. Let me know what you decide. I’ll call again tomorrow in the afternoon. Does three work for you?”

“Yeah, that works for me. Talk to you then.” You made quick goodbyes with each other before hanging up the phone and returning to your cooking. You held your hand under the cold water, letting the rush cool the anxiety in your head. You thought for a moment how your life was going to change when you moved out of your apartment, when you moved out of Chicago.

You ate dinner while searching for jobs on your computer. You investigated the job your mother was talking about. It was an assistant-to-the-manager position that offered significantly less pay than the social media manager position you currently held. Sure, you could put all your money into savings, but you sneered at the idea of moving back in with your parents when you were in your mid-twenties.

You continued to browse through the list of jobs your company offered until your eyes laid upon an office manager position that paid the same rate you were making now, but in a small, incomprehensible name of a town in Norway. You always admired the idea of visiting Norway. It reminded you of the mountains you and your family would drive through to go camping in the Pacific Northwest every summer. You also loved the idea of living near the water. Chicago’s waterfront was nice, but the pollution of the city ruined your connection to the water. Maybe this could be the change of scenery that your mother was suggesting.

It was a risky application considering you weren’t a Norwegian citizen, but you had more than enough experience from your current position to secure this job. You put your heart and soul into this application. When you finally submitted it, you leaned back into the kitchen stool and sighed. It creaked under your weight as you tilted your head back. For a moment you studied the stipples decorated across your ceiling. It was unlikely you’d be offered the position, but you felt more confident in leaving Chicago behind when you finished.

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

You waited several days. Every morning, afternoon, and night you checked your email both at work and at home, praying for a response from your job application. You hadn’t made your application aware to anybody yet. It wasn’t like you had a lot of people to tell, anyway. Since dating Wanda, you two had fallen into a state of codependency with each other. Wanda had possessive traits, and you were a doormat whenever those traits were expressed in an argument. Regarding your family and your closest friend Darcy, however, you’d need to be prepared to convincingly tell them why you were leaving the country to seek ‘refuge’ somewhere else if offered an interview.

You thought about this from the comfort of your bed. You held your phone clutched against your chest and continued to stare at the ceiling just as you had when you submitted your application. Your mind felt all kinds of queasy and restless. Nauseating. It was the type of nausea that bubbled in your stomach rather than your throat. You were thinking about Wanda. What if she came back when you left the country? What if she came back bruised and bloody after escaping her hypothetical kidnapper, looking for solace with you, but you weren’t there? It felt like torture waiting for that damned email. Waiting and worrying became more of a reason to keep your mind off of Wanda, off of the breakup.

You were so hyper-focused on if a decision had been made that you were neglecting the rest of your notifications. There were several texts from Darcy, one text from your father, and several missed calls and voicemails from your mother. You had turned the ‘Read Receipts’ option off on your phone so you could still peek at the messages without getting an earful from Darcy. She was wondering where you were, if you died, or if someone had by chance stolen you off of the streets. She then sent a copy-paste message that if you didn’t reply to her message you’d have bad luck for 7 years. You couldn’t help but giggle at that.

Right then, you got another message from Darcy. It read: I CAN SEE THAT YOU’RE READING MY MESSAGES, ASSHOLE!!!

Shit.

You rechecked your phone settings. You forgot to turn the ‘Read Receipts’ option off. Or, you had accidentally had turned it on sometime and just forgot about it. Shit, shit, shit, you started fumbling with your phone. Your heart started racing when a notification popped up that Darcy was trying to call you. Your phone buzzed and slipped from your hands, landing on your face. Your nose unfortunately answered the call, and you could hear Darcy’s animated voice booming from the other side.

“I’ve been trying to contact you for almost a week!” She whisper-shouted through gritted teeth. Her voice was breathy. Maybe her heart was twisting and beating just as fast as yours. You picked your phone up off of your face and brought it to your ear. The room started spinning as you tried to muster a response.

“I-I-I’m sorry?” You squinted your eyes and furrowed your eyebrows.

“You’re sorry? I’ve been trying to contact you with no response and you’re sorry?” You could hear Darcy exhale through her nose and scoff. “Look, I get it. Wanda ran away from you, but you need to stop running away from everybody else.” She was right. It hurt to hear, but Darcy was right, and you didn’t know how to respond. The words you were forming from your mouth lost all form and function, and they came out in a twisted scramble. You were playing a piano and pressing all the broken keys. You slid your fingers through your hair and gripped into your scalp.

Darcy just sighed.

“What’s going on?” Darcy lowered her voice until it was soothing and silvery. Her voice instantly settled into your muscles, relaxing you in preparation for the news you were to deliver.

“I…may or may not have applied to a job in Norway,” you closed your eyes and waited for Darcy to berate you about running away again. You heard Darcy exhale from her nose once more.

“Y/N, you’re acting irrationally because Wanda left. Look, you and I both knew this was coming. Fleeing the country isn’t going to get her out of your head. It’s just going to isolate you from the only support you have now.”

“Yeah, but what if I meet some hot MILF out there who turns my life upside down and fixes all of my problems?” You attempted to lighten the mood and forced out a laugh. Nothing.

“This isn’t funny, Y/N,” she emphasized your name to bring your attention back to the topic at hand.

“I know.”

“Then stay. There’s another internship opening up with Dr. Foster and you don’t need to be a college student to get in. You can work with me,” Darcy offered in the same tone your mother did when bringing up the assistant position back home.

“No, Darcy. I really do want this position. I think it could be good for my mental health to get out of the country and be somewhere new.”

“Do you even speak Norwegian?”

“No, but I can learn.”

“God,” there was a pause. “…okay. Wanna run by the bookstore with me tomorrow and see if they have learning material for that?” Darcy was being patient with you regardless of your spontaneous decision to leave the USA. She really cared about you, but you could tell from her voice she was worried, maybe even scared about you leaving. You felt sorrow fill your heart as you heard her voice break while speaking. You nodded to yourself.

“You don’t have to do that, Darce,” you replied.

“I want to.”

“Okay. Can I at least pick you up from your apartment?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you then. Noon work?”

“Yeah. See you, Darce. Love you.”

Click.