#also i routinely join Roman

[pandagobrr]

I need to know what episode this is from.

I cannot over express how much ‘join me, no thinking’ has become part of my regular rhetoric it’s so fkn funny to me

It is still one of my favourite lines ever 😂

[kingkat12]

pinking up (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: spanking, discipline, humiliation, clit stim, Dr. Pryce jumpscare lol

summary: finally, you're Mr. Godfrey's official submissive-- but what does that entail, exactly?

word count: 10,056

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a/n: I've been wanting to write a scene like this for SO. DAMN. LONG. this story is turning into me writing all my experimental kinks so y'all are in for a ride lol, enjoy!!<333

And suddenly, the warmth in the air made living easier.

Spring comes to a climax around May every year; I always know exactly when it comes, because the first breath I take while exiting my apartment fills my lungs with joy, and not with the urge to jump into incoming traffic, as usual. 

So, when Mr. Godfrey asked me to meet him up on the rooftop terrace this morning, I gladly accepted; all for fresh air, am I right? He usually only asked me to fetch him his coffee, mark up his schedules, and occasionally run down to the bougie bakery down the street to grab macarons, so this was a happy change of routine. However, now that I was his submissive (as he called it), something told me that this wasn't a casual rooftop meeting-- my blood buzzed in my veins out of sheer excitement, and I could feel the tips of my fingers vibrate as I I walked out on the terrace, my Louboutins knocking gently against the wooden planks as I suppressed a smile. 

The sun was veiled behind a thin layer of clouds, but the air was warm, my dearest Spring, heavy with the scent of city heat rising off brick. It mixed with the trail of smoke from Mr. Godfrey's cigarette-- even they damn smelled expensive when touched by him. Fucking Midas. 

Mr. Godfrey stood near the edge of the balcony, one hand resting on the railing, the other bringing the cigarette to his lips. Wind played with the hem of his shirt, white and crisp, with the sleeves rolled up just enough to show the veins in his forearms; I knew I shouldn't be staring at him like this, but I couldn't stop myself. The first two buttons were undone-- slut. Slutty, slutty man. Whore.

Smoke slowly curled out from Mr. Godfrey's mouth, like he was too lazy to properly exhale it. The smoke rose like something sacred in the air, blurring the sharp line of his jaw for only a second before the wind swept it away. He didn't glance at me right away; he simply took another drag like he had all the time in the world. My eyes followed the perfect angle of the Forbes nose-- how was it possible to be so beautiful?

When Mr. Godfrey finally did turn his head, it was lazy. His green eyes flicked down the length of me, and he spoke with a sharp dryness; "You're late,"

I stopped a few steps away from him. "I'm not, sir,"

Mr. Godfrey gave a breath of a laugh, barely audible, more an exhale than anything, before he turned his body to face me fully, his cigarette hanging between his fingers as he pointed them at me; "You are," he said, voice low, amused. "By about thirty seconds. I counted."

I stared at him, unsure whether he was joking or if he truly did stand up here and count the seconds until I arrived. Did he have nothing else to do? What about the oil, the steel, and the whatever-the-fuck he did? "Sir," I tried. "Is this about the new schedule format? Why did you ask me up here?"

Mr. Godfrey took another drag before answering, his eyes squinting slightly against the sun-diffused sky. The cigarette glowed faintly at the tip, then dimmed again as he spoke around the smoke. "Because I felt like it," He let the smoke leak lazily from his mouth like he had no care in the world-- cocky. "I can do that, y'know? I can also summon a shaman or a Tibetan monk if I want to, and someone will fly the guy in. I once asked for a Catholic priest straight from Rome, too, but that ended up with a call from the board asking whether I was having some sort of mental breakdown or religious epiphany... so now I'm asking my secretary to join me on the rooftop. Is that a crime?"

I blinked. How was I supposed to respond to this info-dump? "What was it then?"

"Was what?"

"Was it a mental breakdown or a religious epiphany, sir?"

Mr. Godfrey smirked, handsome as ever, as the cigarette balanced between his fingers. He leaned back into the railing again, looking out on the skyline; "Neither. I don't believe in God, and I just wanted to see how far I could push before someone told me no," He brought the cigarette back to his lips, his green eyes gleaming with intrigue as he watched me through the veil of smoke separating us. "They didn't."

"Right," I breathed, wondering how long to entertain this show of ego-mania. I hated that some part of me enjoyed this side of him, the side that was unimaginably cocky, privileged. There was something about exactly this that made me want to jump him, and I hated myself for it. "Sir... I have a rhetorical question."

Mr. Godfrey glanced at me, and I took that as a yes; "Have you ever been told no?" I asked.

"That's not rhetorical," he muttered, unimpressed.

"Then it's... just a question, sir,"

His mouth twitched at that, not quite a smile. "Careful," he murmured. "You're getting too comfortable." 

I didn't even try to brush off the hit his words gave me, and I instead focused on trying not to let the breeze whip my hair into my mouth-- it was easier said than done. "Am I supposed to be uncomfortable around you, then? I thought our new... arrangement would make things a bit easier."

With that, Mr. Godfrey immediately straightened up. His smirk dissolved, and his cigarette hung forgotten between his fingers, burning quietly as his eyes locked onto mine-- steady now, less amused, yet all the more worrying. "That," he said, "is what concerns me."

I blinked, thrown off by his sudden change. "What does?"

Mr. Godfrey stepped forward-- not aggressive, but direct, to take action. I backed myself up against the ledge, swallowing hard as I felt my eyes widen. Mr. Godfrey now stood next to me, leaning down a bit to get on my level before he lowered his voice; "Do you think this is a shortcut to avoid how uncomfortable I make you?"

I stiffened, unsure how to answer. "You don't make me uncomfortable, sir,"

"What, then?"

"I just-- I don't know, do you want me to be completely frank?"

"Always,"

I let out a shaky breath; I was screwed. "You just... fluster me, sir," I was two seconds from digging myself a hole and dying in it. Why couldn't I ever shut the fuck up?

Mr. Godfrey's eyes sharpened, not having expected that to leave my mouth. His whole frame stilled, the lazy, practiced slouch of him tightening just slightly as the cigarette stayed perched between his fingers, near his mouth, forgotten mid-drag. "I see," 

For a moment, he just looked at me-- really looked. Like the word had cracked something in the air between us. The wind tousled his hair, the soft strands catching the sunlight. He finally took a drag, a long one, like he needed it to anchor him. His cheeks hollowed slightly as he inhaled, and his veins faintly raised on his forearm; I had never wanted someone the way I wanted him. "Every time," he said. "Every time you say something, without fail, I never know what's gonna leave your mouth."

I swallowed hard. "Sorry, sir, I-- I just mean--"

"No," he shot in, tutting his tongue. "Don't ruin it by explaining. I like an enigma." His eyes dragged over me, down, then back up, like he was recalibrating something, seeing me with fresh clarity. Then, with maddening elegance, he turned slightly and leaned back against the railing again, letting the cigarette dangle between his fingers. "I also like control," he continued. "I really, really like it, which is why I wonder why you'd want to give yours up for me."

I held my breath as Mr. Godfrey sighed. He flicked the ash over the edge of the balcony and leaned forward just slightly, watching it disintegrate into the air. "See, I know why I like this arrangement, but you?" He gestured to me, cigarette trailing smoke. "I have no idea. And something tells me you have no clue, either."

Mr. Godfrey brought the cigarette to his lips one last time, inhaled deeply, then stubbed it out on the metal edge of the railing with a slow, deliberate twist. 

Anxious, I tried to wet my lips, but I immediately regretted it; I felt like I had now swallowed fifty percent of my lipstick. As I tried to get the taste of it off my tongue, I also tried to recover. "I don't think I need to know why I want this," I breathed. "Just please don't call a shaman on me." 

I knew what the shaman would say, anyway; 'Your crush has led you straight into the arms of a BDSM freak. Congratulations!'

In return, Mr. Godfrey laughed, shaking his head as the last of the smoke left his system. He was gorgeous like this, free, and unlike how I usually saw him; his brown hair fell slightly over his eyes, and he ran his fingers through it to push it away. I wondered if he'd ever let me do that for him someday. But just as I was about to get lost in my daydreams and pink haze, Mr. Godfrey's voice cut through the fog; "What's your size?" he asked, dragging the words out like he was tasting them.

"... What?" I mumbled, whiplashed. "My size?" What size? For what?

Mr. Godfrey made a low sound, something between a hum and a scoff, and rested his elbow on the railing behind him. It made his dress shirt stretch across his shoulders, every line of him deliberate. "Bra-size," he said, as though it was a casual thing to ask.

I let out a shocked, choked breath; "Sir!" It was impossible to brush this off as a natural continuation of our previous conversation. "That's not!-- Why do you?--"

"Okay, then," Mr. Godfrey straightened up, throwing his cigarette over the ledge with no care in the world, yet his brows were drawn together with dissatisfaction. "I want it in an email by twelve o'clock, sharp."

"Sir!" I tried to calm myself out of the anxious giggles that were escaping me one by one. "Please, that's!--"

"Inappropriate?" Mr. Godfrey met my eyes, the sharp gleam in his gaze searing straight through my vanity. He leaned down, lowering his voice again with a dark tone; "I've seen you cum. Get over yourself." 

... Crap.

I swallowed, feeling my eyes round out. Something about his voice, his gaze, and the scent of him, made my head dizzy-- I wanted to be good for him, though, despite my shock. I wanted him to be pleased with me. I wanted him. Wanted, wanted, needed. "Okay," I breathed, hoping to recover from my reluctance. "Can I ask why you?--"

"No,"

"Oh," Breathless.

Mr. Godfrey stepped back from me, like the storm had passed. He adjusted his cuffs, sighing like I had disappointed him and insulted his whole bloodline; "Next time I ask you something, just answer. That's lesson number one,"

With that, he turned and walked back toward the glass doors that led into the office-- shoulders squared and broad, pace unhurried, exuding that infuriating, spine-melting calm he wore like an expensive cologne. The wind caught the back of his shirt as he went, tugging at the crisp fabric, accentuating the muscles of his upper back, and all I could do was stand there like I'd been hit by a very sexy freight train.

Lesson one?

Alright-- I was ready to be taught. 

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

After having sent Mr. Godfrey my bra-size with utmost reluctance, I sat behind my desk wondering whether a magical carriage would appear before me and take me to a ball. Before the clock strikes twelve. Where was my fairy Godmother to save me from the boredom of today? 

I had hoped that something would come out of my new arrangement with my boss. That he'd perhaps touch me, do something that would send me spiralling, or literally anything-- but ever since our meeting at the rooftop a few hours ago, he had promptly worked on some papers as though nothing had changed, and he'd had about two visitors with whom he seemed to have had pleasant business-appropriate conversations. Oh, how I longed for something wildly inappropriate to happen-- I was almost inclined to get off right now, in perfect view of him behind his desk, just to piss him off.

Mr. Godfrey hadn't glanced at me once through the glass dividers of his office. He was underlining some transcripts, minding his own business, as I repeatedly dug the heel of my Louboutins into a specific spot in the carpet; I had a competition with myself, wondering when the material would be pierced. I didn't have anything proper to do before the staff meeting in about twenty minutes, so I was bored out of my fucking mind. But just as I was about to dare to cross my legs at my ankles, not fully, just to tease both him and me (I bet he'd look at me then, huh?), someone showed up in front of my desk.

"Peter!" I exclaimed, feeling my body fill with delight at the sight of him. 

He stood there like something out of a cozy daydream; broad shoulders beneath a rolled-up shirt, his forearms dusted with faint freckles that somehow made my thoughts wander. There was something unassuming about Peter's good looks, which made them all the more disarming-- wait, why the fuck was I thinking about this in the first place? 

"Hey, kid. I was just coming from legal," Peter said, flashing me a small smile that lit up his whole face. "Saw you from the end of the hall and thought I'd... check in." He sounded a little unsure, like he didn't know whether he was overstepping-- that alone made me want to wrap my arms around him in gratitude. 

At least someone was looking at me, then. My eyes snapped toward Mr. Godfrey to check whether he was witnessing this, but he wasn't; with a sigh, I beamed back up at Peter. "I'm fine! Just happy to see you, honestly. I'm fucking bored to death,"

Peter chuckled as a few dark strands of his hair fell over his eyes. "Snake isn't saving you this time?"

"Sadly not,"

"Right... But honestly, I'm checking in because I wasn't so sure I'd see you back here," he added, gaze flicking briefly toward Mr. Godfrey's office. "After, uh... last time."

When I had gotten yelled at in front of the whole office? Fuck, I had almost completely repressed that. My mind had been too occupied with the fact that I was now Mr. Godfrey's official submissive-- when would that come with its perks? "I'm okay," I said, softening my voice as I tucked my hair behind my ear. "We talked. He basically apologized." In his own way, yes.

Peter's brows drew together. "Apologized?" His tone was gentle, but I could feel him trying to solve something, like he couldn't believe that Mr. Godfrey would ever apologize for anything. I couldn't blame him-- he was right. My boss hadn't said those exact words, but... 

"We solved it," I said with a vague shrug of my shoulders. "He's not going to yell at me again, and I'm going to start forging his signatures. Win-win, if you ask me. Just you wait until he starts letting me sign checks."

Peter rolled his eyes, biting down on another laugh. "You shouldn't be telling me that," he teased, a twinkle appearing in his brown eyes. "I work for legal, after all. You could get in big trouble."

"Crap," I breathed, playing along. "I'm screwed, aren't I?"

Peter leaned in just a little closer, bracing one hand lightly on the edge of my desk. "Guess I'll have to keep an eye on you now," he murmured. "Make sure you don't turn into a full-blown criminal, or something."

I smiled, but I felt a sting in my stomach-- I noticed that shift, that subtle lean of his body toward mine. His tone was still warm, still Peter, but suddenly, I was very aware of how tall he was, how the veins in his forearms shifted when he moved, how good he smelled, how--

Oh my God. Peter was flirting with me, wasn't he? "Noted," I breathed, flicking my gaze up at him as I tried to recover. "You gonna rat me out if I do?"

He smirked; "Nah... I'd visit you in jail, though. Bring you oranges. Handwritten letters. Make sure you don't join a gang,"

"Wow, okay... So you wouldn't be doing your best to bail me out, then? Not much of a help,"

Peter tilted his head slightly, and then came the smallest pause. A sliver of silence between us that wasn't awkward this time, just charged. His gaze lingered, a little lower than before, like he was letting himself look at me in a way he hadn't dared to before. "I'd be whatever you needed," he finally said, low and charming.

And suddenly my cheeks were burning. My breath caught somewhere between my ribs and my throat. I didn't have anything clever to say to that, not a single thing, and it made me feel like the biggest fucking idiot ever.

Peter noticed, too. His smile faltered a bit, like he was catching himself doing something he shouldn't. "Too much?" he asked, almost shyly, as he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand.

"No, no!" I said, maybe too quickly. "It's-- It's fine."

He nodded, stepping back just a touch. "Oh well," he said, voice gentle again, blinking quicker. "You looked like you needed a distraction."

The care in his voice made me feel something strange-- safe. And it was this exact safety that made me feel nauseous. Not because Peter was making me uncomfortable, but because it felt like a mirror to something I didn't have with Mr. Godfrey. Peter was the kind of guy you took home for the holidays, the kind your mother would adore before even offering him dessert, and I was letting him talk to me like he had a chance to be something like that to me. Would he like to be, though?

... Maybe I should keep that in mind before venturing too far down the road with Mr. Godfrey?

Then, just as I was about to respond, my computer let out a loud, annoying pling that I knew too well. Immediately, I straightened up and tried to swallow my heart, which had made its way up my throat in record time. 

When I saw who the email was from, I was sure I'd throw up all over Peter. In a hurry, accompanied by an anxious, breathy chuckle, I tried to click away the notification.

Peter raised his brows, automatically leaning over the desk to check out what had gotten my stomach in a knot. "You good?"

Finally, I managed to exit the window in a blur. "Yep!" I said, far too brightly. "It was just some reminder. Outlook being clingy."

Unsure whether to believe me or not, Peter backed off, hummed, and ran his fingers through his hair, tousling it a little. "Don't let Outlook bully you. You've got enough going on with that guy," he said, nodding toward Mr. Godfrey's office-- I didn't dare to look that direction just yet. "You sure you're alright working with him?" Peter added.

"Yes," I squeaked, forcing a smile that was way too wide to be natural as my heart pounded. 

Peter looked like he wanted to say something else, but held back. "Well..." he said after a moment. "If bossman gives you a hard time again, I'll come back with a bat."

"Now that would be illegal!"

He leaned in once more, his grin lazy now; "Get back to work, kid,"

I grinned back like a fool, and Peter gave me a parting look; one that lingered, one that made my spine feel like it had turned to honey, before he walked back toward his office. 

As soon as Peter disappeared down the hall, the air around me changed. His absence made everything quieter, sharper-- the hum of the fluorescent lights, the clack of someone's keyboard a few desks down, along with the muffled whirr of the air conditioning above, made me want to curl into myself and disappear. I checked the time; I had fifteen minutes until I had to be at the staff meeting.

Then, when I opened the mail, I pressed my lips into the palm of my hand. This way, I knew I'd at least catch the acid reflux that threatened to claw its way up my throat. It burned, burned, seared through me, but it was the most toe-curling anxiety that oddly made my clit jump-- it filled me with unimaginable masochistic joy. 

From: Roman Godfrey

Subject: Your Posture

Dear secretary,

You slouch when he talks to you. Fix it.

Linearly,

Roman Godfrey, CEO of Godfrey Industries.

I nearly jolted right out of my chair-- my back straightened in an instant as my anxious gaze flickered to Mr. Godfrey, who smirked as he circled something in the transcript before him. Bastard. Had I known any better, I'd have assumed that he was sitting there, amused with his own little jokes. But something told me that this email had a bit of an undertone to it, one his emails didn't have before; was he perhaps not so keen on me talking to Peter?

From: You

Subject: Sudden Awareness

Dear Mr. Godfrey,

Are you watching me, sir?

I will correct my posture. Was that all that bothered you?

Curved,

Your Secretary.

I had half the mind to genuinely lie down and demonstrate just how horizontal I could be, but I suddenly remembered the time I had slithered down from my chair and onto the floor the last time I had sent Mr. Godfrey a risky email. I wouldn't want to repeat that, especially in perfect view of him.

However, my plans were interrupted when I got my reply.

From: Roman Godfrey

Subject: Redirection

Dear secretary,

Do not start feeling special. I am simply making sure that you are fulfilling your duties as my secretary. 

And as for Rumancek, I must remind you that he does not know what you respond to. Do not encourage the illusion.

Vertically, 

Roman Godfrey, CEO of Godfrey Industries.

I bit down on my bottom lip and scooted closer to my desk-- this was way too amusing. Finally, this day was taking the turn I had hoped it would, but I was left with a bit of a sour taste on my tongue. Illusion? What illusion?

However, I checked the time; I had to make my way to the damn staff meeting soon. I needed to wrap this up, yet I also needed to know what he meant.

From: You

Subject: Confusion

Dear Mr. Godfrey,

I would appreciate it if you could specify. 

What do you mean by illusion, sir? Do you believe my kindness to my coworkers is an illusion? I would like to have you know that I am very well liked in the office, not only for my charm, but also for how nice I am. I am nice. That is not an illusion. 

Horizontally,

Your Secretary.

Seriously, what the hell? I glanced into Mr. Godfrey's office and caught him tilting his head as he read whatever popped up on his screen, brows drawn together-- I could only guess it was my email. I wondered whether he had nothing better to do right now but to poke his secretary. Then, my response ticked in within no time--

From: Roman Godfrey

Subject: Clarification

Dear secretary,

I am referring to the illusion that he could handle you. He could not. However, I would like to reiterate: nice? Is the whole office unaware of your foul mouth? I must say I am impressed, yet irked— you manage to keep yourself under wraps around everyone else except me? I am almost offended. You unravel easily. It could be interpreted as a flaw. 

Anyway. Get me a cup of coffee. Thank you.

Parched,

Roman Godfrey, CEO of Godfrey Industries.

My... foul mouth? After that mail, I definitely needed a break from Mr. Godfrey's green eyes and ridicule. I got up within a beat, sending him a stern glare that he didn't see (or acknowledge). I barely had seven minutes until I needed to be at the staff meeting, so I knew I had to be quick.

I must've been gone for about three minutes, maybe less, but something told me that my coffee-fetching had been deliberately timed-- the large box that was suddenly on my desk was perhaps the biggest tell. It was either a bomb sent by the government to eradicate Mr. Godfrey, or someone had brought me a gift.

With careful steps, I approached it, letting my eyes feast on the huge, white bow enveloping it. I put the coffee down before I reached forward to run my fingers through the satin. Some clepto part of me wanted to keep the bow after I was done unveiling the enormous box-- fuck it, I was definitely doing that.

I felt my fingertips tingle to the point of it almost being painful before I opened the box with utmost delight. Baby-pink tulle was the first thing that met my eyes, yet the sight of a cream-coloured handwritten note on top of it got my attention. I picked it up;

Part of your updated wardrobe policy.

Effective immediately.

-- R.G.

With my heart beating its way up my throat, I did my best to bite down a squeal that would've alarmed the whole office. I made sure no one could see me before I pulled the lace into my hands, threaded it between my fingers, and stared at it in awe-- this was lingerie. 

Black, lace, and ridiculously expensive lingerie.

Oh Lord. Was this why Mr. Godfrey needed my bra-size?! How the fuck had he managed to arrange this so quickly? Who had brought this here? Was he perhaps writing this card earlier, instead of fixing the transcripts? My mind felt like it was actively melting.

Gathering the courage, I dared to let my eyes wander into Mr. Godfrey's office, only to be met with burning green. Green, green, green. He stared back at me, didn't move a muscle, not an inch, not a breath-- until he mouthed; now. 

I swallowed hard. Something told me I would get some extra repercussions if the coffee was cold by the time I was done. With a small nod, and possibly a tiny, shy smile, I grabbed the box and made my way to the restroom; finally, something was happening, and it made me so excited that I didn't care that I'd be late to the staff meeting.

Whatever it was, I couldn't wait.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

The fucking staff meeting was the biggest case of the snores ever. Who allowed that to even be a thing? Why did I have to sit for an hour and hear about staff regulations? This could've been compressed into a nice little email I wouldn't read.

As I sat there, all I could think about was how soft my new underwear was. Was I going to get to take this home? Was this a present? Was this all I could wear to the office from now on? Was I then going to get more...? I refused to wear the same pair over and over without washing it; if Mr. Godfrey wanted me to do that, then that would cross into the land of disgusting. Had I signed up for that?

I knew I was overthinking it, but I couldn't help it; my heart was hammering with thrill and excitement as I now made my way back from the staff meeting, knowing I was about to see Mr. Godfrey again. 

The tightening of my throat didn't get any better when I saw that the blinds to his office had been pulled down. Was this an invitation? I barely even dared to knock, but I was sure that he didn't have any visitors, so I stepped in with full confidence.

And... I definitely shouldn't have. I cringed when the door clicked behind me, and I cursed at myself when I saw that he had company.

Mr. Godfrey stood with his back to me, joined by a man in a white coat. They were mid-conversation about something scientific and horrifying on a clipboard. However, my boss didn't react, didn't turn to yell at the intruder to get the fuck out-- no, he definitely recognized the soft click of my Louboutins. But then, without turning his head, Mr. Godfrey gestured loosely with two fingers toward his chair.

Wait?-- His chair?

He didn't look at me. He just kept talking, like he was waiting for my immediate obedience. Who was I to deny him that?

"--It's not about that, Pryce, it's about instinct. You can't brute-force that, but I can feel that something is off about this,"

When Mr. Godfrey said the name, it finally hit me that the other man in the room was the Johann Pryce, the man who was on all the posters regarding the medical research of the Godfrey Institute. This guy was basically God. With zero acknowledgement from any of them, I nodded to myself, proud that I had connected the dots, before I carefully made my way to Mr. Godfrey's desk.

Sitting down in his chair felt wrong on all accounts, but I tried to make myself comfortable as they went on. He didn't have any pictures on his desk; I had noticed that a few weeks ago. This felt like a sterile place I shouldn't be anywhere near without some form of mask, so I remained very, very still as my eyes focused on the untouched cup of tea to my right.

"The gene expression changes post-serum are erratic," Dr. Pryce said, flipping the page on his clipboard. He wore a very particular expression; something told me this man wouldn't know what humour was, even if it hit him in the head. "Unstable tissue formation... Fragmentation around the spinal cord."

"It's not fragmentation," Mr. Godfrey huffed, pointing to the research on the clipboard. "You're over-compensating with the dosage! It's rejection, look-- the body's rejecting the shortcut!"

"You think it's psychological?"

"No, I think it's behavioural. Conditioning. A person isn't just cells, right? They have to believe they're changing, otherwise the nervous system... revolts," Speaking of nervous system-- without as much as a glance at me, Mr. Godfrey made his way toward his desk and proceeded to slide the cup of tea along the desk before it was perfectly positioned before me. He continued speaking to Dr. Pryce, but I couldn't make out any of the words as he dropped a cube of sugar into the tea and stirred. And just as I thought-- he stirred only thrice. 

Was I perhaps hallucinating, or had Mr. Godfrey just... made me a cup of tea? Had he anticipated that I would walk in, after all? 

"Ah," Dr. Pryce said, dry as ever. His voice brought my mind back to the room. "So your solution is... what, spiritual transformation?"

Mr. Godfrey fully turned toward Dr. Pryce, flashing an easy smile I didn't recognise. "If I wanted spirituality, Johann, I'd send the fuckers to church," He tapped the spoon against the saucer with a loud, obnoxious, and jarring clink, and it made my breath hitch at the sudden noise.

Only then did Dr. Pryce looked at me, and I immediately felt like a nuisance. He had a certain look about him that made me feel like a bug he wanted to stomp, and I had to do everything in my power to not cross my legs or sink under the table. "Sorry," I breathed, reaching for the tea to occupy my hands. Why did I have to be such a pathetic mess all the fucking time?

I didn't need to look at Dr. Pryce to know he was rolling his eyes, and probably exchanging patronizing glances with Mr. Godfrey about my incompetence. "Church? Roman, are you having another religious epiphany perhaps? Who are we flying in next time, the new Pope?"

I nearly choked-- I had to do everything in my power not to laugh. Fine, Dr. Pryce got points for that one. 

Mr. Godfrey only huffed, finally glancing down at me with a look of clear disapproval; something told me I had a smirk on my face that I needed to wipe. The more the silence dawned on me, the more I realized how strict he actually looked. Everything about the eye contact made me want to give up and die; Mr. Godfrey didn't blink. He just stared, like that'd make me cease to exist. With chills running down my spine, I gulped and sank into myself, not caring that his guest could see me falling apart. 

"Sorry about her," he eventually said, turning back to Dr. Pryce. "She can be a charming girl, but more than often, I'm reminded that she's straight from college."

Uh... hello? 

I hated when Mr. Godfrey did this; when he spoke like I wasn't in the room. It made me feel less than worthy of life, but also shamefully horny. What the fuck was wrong with me? I could only force a sip of my tea, not wanting any of it to go to waste. 

"She's young," Dr. Pryce's voice sounded, cutting through the tension that oddly didn't make him the least bit uncomfortable. He wasn't looking at me anymore, disregarding my presence. "That's not a defect. It's moldable. Isn't that ideal?"

"Spoken like a man who's never had to house-train anyone," Mr. Godfrey muttered, a verbal flick of the wrist. "Anyway, run another set. Lower the dosage, and send me the report."

Dr. Pryce gave a slow, meaningless nod. It was clear that this situation had bored him. "We'll reconvene Friday," With a quick turn of his head, he turned to me and plastered a polite, eerily polished smile; "It was nice to meet you, miss. You might still be here by Friday, right?"

... Ominous fucker.

The door clicked shut behind Dr. Pryce, and I instantly dreaded what was about to come; it was the most beautiful dread in the world. If only it would asphyxiate me and allow me to faint, thereby escape it.

Alas, the tension in the room was unescapable-- Mr. Godfrey didn't speak right away. Instead, he rounded the desk, slow and fluid, and perched himself on the edge of it, directly in front of me, arms folded loosely over his chest. Without breaking eye contact, his green eyes seared into mine as he pushed the steaming tea aside. "Do you not knock anymore?" he asked, his words cutting through the false sense of security I had sewn into my skin.

My throat tightened. "I..." I wet my lips, horrified that my voice had barely sounded. "I'm sorry sir, I saw that the blinds were down, so I thought--"

"Well, you thought wrong," Mr. Godfrey wasn't angry. Not really. Right? "Do you understand why that matters?"

I nodded too quickly. "Yes, I do, sir,"

"Do you?"

"I--"

"I'll give you the benefit of the doubt," he said, brushing a thumb once along the edge of his folded sleeve as though he was bored out of his mind. "But from now on, if you're not sure if I have company? You knock. Did I tell you to come into my office?"

I wanted to cry. "No, sir," I breathed, mortified. 

Mr. Godfrey sighed and rolled his eyes; something told me he didn't like the sound of me on the verge of tears like a fucking crybaby. Everything about this made me feel ridiculous, and for what? For walking through a door? Why did I put myself through this, and why the hell did I like it? 

"Get up," Mr. Godfrey groaned. "Let's see if you've done the thing I actually told you to do."

... Oh.

Oh, yes, yes, yes! 

I let out a shaky breath as I got up from his (ridiculously comfortable) chair, not daring to meet his green eyes as I placed myself in front of him. My throat bobbed as I swallowed over and over, hoping to also swallow the giggle of excitement that threatened to escape me; there was no way in hell I'd allow myself to show how much I enjoyed this, after I had proclaimed my love for his torture just yesterday. "The set is very pretty, sir," I breathed. "Thank you."

"Yeah?" Mr. Godfrey motioned for me to step closer, to take the space between his legs, and I dared to obey. Now that I was close enough to smell his cologne, his voice dropped and smoothened; "You think it's pretty?"

I didn't dare to look at him. Refused to. I barely even dared to breathe as my heart pounded in my chest. "Very much, sir,"

"Yeah?" His words were low, deep; sensual, almost. "You wouldn't mind showing me, then?"

Static noise-- that was what filled my brain. It completely short-circuited when I realized that Mr. Godfrey's breath was falling gently against my collarbone, and I felt goosebumps cover my skin all over. Slowly, yet confident, he reached down and let his fingertips brush the hem of my skirt like he meant to lift it. His hand hovered, waiting to see if I'd stop him, and--

And I did.

Instinctively, I pushed at his chest. "Wait-- Wait," I breathed, feeling Mr. Godfrey's body still against my palm. "Could we-- Could we at least lock the door first?" 

Fuck. Swallowing became impossible. I looked straight into his green eyes, then at the Forbes nose, and the beautiful upward curve of it. What if he didn't think I was beautiful, too? Why was I panicking about this right now? Mr. Godfrey was just so damn perfect, and I realized a little too late how inadequate this made me feel-- now, I was trapped. 

"Please," I breathed. "I'll do whatever you want, just-- just lock it, please." He had a button on the underside of his desk that I knew automatically locked it, anyway, and I had half the mind to just nudge it myself.

But Mr. Godfrey stayed unbelievably still. He hadn't blinked, hadn't breathed-- I didn't feel his chest rise beneath my palm, his lungs getting filled, nothing. It was as though he had completely frozen, and I should've pulled away right then and there. I should've known better. I should've apologized and stepped back, but my hand lingered-- my hope held me back. I held my palm against the firm heat of him, caught in the moment, caught in him, in the impossibility of being this close to someone so untouchable, and then...

Mr. Godfrey's green eyes slowly, achingly slowly, darted down to my hand as though he was watching a snake crawl up his body. This was awful to him. My touch was horrifying to him. 

Then, with no warning, his hand closed around my wrist with restraint strength; I could almost sense the way he was holding back from cracking my bones. "You don't touch me," he hissed, ice threading through his voice. "You don't ever touch me."

In one controlled, terrifyingly fluid motion, Mr. Godfrey rose from the desk, forcing me to stumble backward. Then he sat down in his chair, and my body spun around with him as his grip around my wrist remained unrelenting, and then--

He yanked me down into his lap. Mr. Godfrey's hands, large and sure, gripped my waist and drew me downward, down, until I had no choice but to fold across his thighs, my breath leaving me in one shocked, helpless whimper.

His lap was warm. Solid.

And I--

God, I was spread over it, just like one of the girls in my favorite porn videos. Was I hallucinating? Perhaps. Bent like this, perfectly arranged, skirt already rucked halfway up my thighs just from the motion, I wasn't sure whether this was a humiliation ritual or a dream come true-- something told me this could be both at the same time.

"You don't get to take liberties," Mr. Godfrey's voice was low, threatening, thrilling. "Not with me. That's not how this will work." He adjusted me slightly, his palm spreading along the arch of my back to press me lower, until the blood rushed to my face and my ass tipped up in the most humiliating, vulnerable angle. A whimper escaped me, and he huffed like he had already predicted every sound I would make.

"You touched me..." he continued, listening to my breath hitch. "Like you had the right. I thought I had taught you better by now. Are you always so disappointing?"

Oh God. Was this really happening? My eyes burned with the tears of shock that I was biting back. I didn't want to disappoint him; I wanted to be perfect. I wanted to be perfect for him, and what was I if I couldn't be? Nothing was worth it, then. Nothing. "Sir, I'm-- I'm so sorry," I pleaded. 

I tried to turn and look up at him, and I watched as Mr. Godfrey's eyes caught the subtle edge of my underwear beneath my skirt; a flash of lace, the exact colour and style he had picked out for me. Did he like it? I so desperately wanted to know. Did he think it was pretty on me? Did he think I was pretty?

"I'm sorry, sir," I repeated. "I'm-- please, I'm so sorry." Please, please, please don't forgive me. Or do. Or?

With a low, bored hum, Mr. Godfrey dragged a finger slowly up the back of my thigh, just enough to make my lungs stall, until he paused, fingertips curling around the hem of my skirt to pull it over my ass, making me squeeze my eyes shut as I realized he could see everything.

Mr. Godfrey sighed; "I suppose you can take this as lesson number two," His hand smoothed over the back of my thigh, fingers slow, trailing higher until his middle and index hovered over my clothed sex. Something told me he was itching to pull the fabric aside, like he was unwrapping a gift he already owned. With my breath high in my chest, I hoped he might, but I knew he had a history of being reluctant; if I couldn't touch him, why would he want to touch me?

Then, with that same low voice, dripping with what I could only pinpoint as arousal, Mr. Godfrey spoke with the most ominous tone of the century; "Do you like pink?"

What? I had lost the ability to speak. Consequently, a pathetic nod from me followed as I wondered why the fuck he was asking me that in the first place--

I choked back a gasp.

Blinding pain ripped through me, and all the air in my lungs got sucked out.

Mr. Godfrey's palm had came down sharp and sudden across the curve of my ass, and I whimpered from the sheer shock of it. The noise was obscene in the silence, skin against skin. Before I could catch my breath, he did it again, a little harder this time, and the fabric of the underwear didn't do much to soften the blow.

I had gasped, but not from pain, not really. From the sound, yes-- the crack of skin against skin, the raw immediacy of it, the fact that it had happened, that he had done it, without hesitation. Every sick and twisted cell in my body twisted with satisfaction; God, how special it made me feel. Twisted fuck.

Mr. Godfrey's hand laid flat against my skin like it'd soften the sting. He took a few seconds to calculate my reaction, to make sure that I wasn't sobbing with complete and utter horror. His palm stayed there, resting against the tender heat he'd just left behind as though to absorb it and to ground me. "Breathe," he ordered-- something told me that he had done this before. 

And I did; slowly, shakily. The sound of his voice pulled me back from whatever haze I'd started to drift into, from the heat, shame, and terrible pleasure of it all. Mr. Godfrey's fingers stroked down again, a featherlight drag down my inner thigh that made my clit jump. His touch was calmer now, steadying, as though I was some cat he occasionally liked petting.

What was his play here? I couldn't figure it out. 

"Pink it is, then," Mr. Godfrey muttered, as though he was thinking out loud. 

"... My ass?"

He sighed-- I would've believed it was a laugh, had this been any other situation. "No. Not yet, at least, but we're getting there. I'm saying that pink will be our safe word. It's ironic," His fingers dipped down again, tracing the edges of my lace panties. My stomach flipped, and I held back another hitch of my breath; I so desperately wanted him to touch me properly. 

Then-- "Do you want me to stop?" 

"No," came my answer, without as much as a second thought.

A hum followed, and then the next strike landed a little lower, sharper. I arched with it, and the noise I made felt utterly filthy, a sound I never thought I'd ever make between the four walls of an office, yet I couldn't stop it. My hips twitched toward Mr. Godfrey, searching for pressure, for more contact-- anything.

"Count," he commanded. "We'll do five more."

I blinked through the heat in my eyes; every part of my body burned with excitement. Mr. Godfrey's tone wasn't cruel, and that was the worst part-- he sounded like this wasn't strange at all, like disciplining his secretary over his lap was just one of many tasks he planned to check off before leaving work. 

The first strike was anticipated and therefore easier to handle than the previous ones, yet a whimper left my lips; I wondered whether my skin was turning pink yet. "One," I breathed, shivering at the free hand Mr. Godfrey placed on my back to brace me. 

The second blow landed without pause, not giving me time to stabilize. I made a sound, something caught between a gasp and a whimper, and immediately bit it back, horrified by my lack of restraint. I didn't want the whole office to hear me, after all. The sting echoed a moment longer than the first, seeping in slowly; "Two," I choked out. 

By the third one, I was starting to feel sore. The sharp crack filled the room, and I started to squirm in Mr. Godfrey's lap, feeling my skin burn and my brain buzz with twisted pleasure. I knew I'd miss the sting of this. I knew it. "Three," I breathed, euphoric. My body betrayed me; I shivered. Some part of me wanted to beg him to give me his absolute worst, but the sane part of me knew I wouldn't be able to take it.

I allowed a small smile to form across my lips, possibly tilting into delirium-- Mr. Godfrey caught it. "What, are you enjoying this?" he chimed, his fingers ghosting over the faint handprint forming on my ass.

I gave a simple nod, not daring to speak. And then--

"Freak," he hissed. 

I was unsure whether Mr. Godfrey rewarded me or punished me with what he followed his insult with, but it certainly felt like a reward; his free hand moved up along my thigh, and he proceeded to press his thumb against the wet spot that had formed in my underwear, dipping into me just slightly. As though he had set me alight, I let out a whiny whimper, bucking reflexively, shame turning me inside out at the shock of him finally touching me there.

I shouldn't have done that. "You're soaked," he said, like it was the most disgusting, revolting thing in the world, before the next strike came-- I could only tremble. 

"Four," I whimpered. My skin burned, my breath came high and shallow, and my skirt was pushed so far up now it felt less like clothing and more like a memory of one.

Mr. Godfrey continued, pouring verbal venom all over my bare skin as he moved his thumb further up along my sex, slowly circling my clit once. Just for a second, I wanted to be his damn cup of coffee- then I'd at least get three circles, right? "You're wet, you're cocky, and you're sick for liking this," There was no heat in his voice. There was no raised tone, and only that cold, confident cadence he always had in meetings, like every outcome was already decided and he was simply watching me catch up. "You're fucking sick. Do you like hearing that?"

"No," I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut as the humiliation seared into my heart-- I lied. I did. It was freeing to hear it be said out loud, for someone to acknowledge it. None of my exes had, no one had ever seen me the way Mr. Godfrey did, and it was the most thrilling, liberating fucking feeling on earth.

Mr. Godfrey's thumb rubbed another slow, deliberate circle around my clit through my underwear, listening to the strings of broken, pleasured whimpers that left me-- he knew exactly what he was doing. He knew exactly what pressure to use before my legs would start kicking, and he knew exactly how to touch me to keep me denied yet pleasured. "You're pinking up," he mumbled, mostly to himself. I imagined he was inspecting the handprint on my ass, now. "I suppose this is the shade Rumancek's face would be if he knew you were in this position right now."

Oh God. 

No, no, no.

I couldn't think about Peter. If he knew I was happily spread over Mr. Godfrey lap like this, he'd be so, so disappointed, and I couldn't deal with that right now. Just the thought of him knowing me like this, seeing me like this, made me want to both cry and cum at the same time. What the fuck was wrong with me? "Don't," I breathed. "Please don't-- don't say his name."

There was a three-second pause, then a short, angry sigh, before Mr. Godfrey's palm lifted, hovered, merciless--

Crack.

The final one landed with precision, harder than the others. The sound was obscene, and I cried out before I could stop it. It wasn't a dignified cry; it was something raw, shocked, high in pitch, and drenched in shame from the image of Peter walking in on us, which he in all technicality could because of the damn unlocked door. 

"Five," I whispered, barely audible, broken.

Then, finally knowing I was done, it all fell out of me with a hitch; "I'm so-- I'm so sorry, I'm so-- so, so--" All the shame from having misstepped, from having taken the liberty to touch Mr. Godfrey, from the thought of Peter, drowned me.

As my apologies rambled on, Mr. Godfrey calmly reached for my skirt, dismissing my pleas of forgiveness. He pulled it over the pink, stinging handprint on my ass with surgical precision. If anything, he seemed like he had expected this, like this was the common outcome whenever he did this. 

 My breathing was ragged as my stuttered apologies continued, and the room spun with heat and shame. I couldn't ground myself, couldn't think, couldn't snap out of the shock. What had just happened to me? What had I done? How had I dared to touch him? How would I ever possibly explain this to Peter?--

Fuck. Peter.

Mr. Godfrey's tone was completely different when it made its way through the fog in my brain; "You're okay. Breathe,"

His voice wasn't harsh, but it cut through the haze like a whip. I turned my head slightly, just enough to meet his eyes over my shoulder. They were unreadable, still cold, still that corporate green glass, but there was something quieter behind it now. He wasn't enjoying this in the way people thought of enjoyment; he was committed to it. 

To the act. 

To me.

Mr. Godfrey's clinical care made the intimacy more unbearable. My thighs trembled as I breathed through the aftershocks, and my mind was still running crazy as Mr. Godfrey guided me to sit in his lap like delicate glass. I didn't dare to move, didn't dare to touch him to adjust, couldn't function. 

The incoming pleas for forgiveness were stopped when he spoke again, and the following words nearly knocked the wind out of me; "You did well. You did good," 

Was Mr. Godfrey complimenting me? Yeah, I had definitely died or something. Dead by spanking. That'd look good on my grave. I sniffled, not daring to look at him as I caught a distraught tear with my finger. 

Thankfully, he didn't comment on it, but he didn't soothe me either; didn't shush, didn't touch my face, or murmur reassurances like every part of me hoped for in the aftermath of what had just happened. Instead, he reached forward with one hand, slow, practiced, and opened the side drawer of his desk. The soft mechanical click of it, a quiet, domestic sound, accompanied another one of my sniffles.

To my surprise, Mr. Godfrey took out a handkerchief. It was confirmed-- he had expected something like this to happen. He had prepared for it. The handkerchief was one of those fine, silk linen ones folded into a precise square; "Stay still," he said, before bringing it up to my cheeks. I held back a hitch of my breath, and my glossy eyes were wide with confusion as they searched his green ones. Was he... taking care of me now? I couldn't believe it.

Mr. Godfrey hummed, not meeting my gaze. "Are you lightheaded?" He dabbed beneath one eye, then the other, with an unreadable expression. "That's to be expected... but I could pour you a glass of water?" There was a hint of softness to his touch, and the pressure of the handkerchief was almost gentle. Yet, before I could let my mind race, I did my best to convince myself that he wasn't doing this out of the kindness of his heart, and I took him for what he actually was; a man erasing the evidence of something he would never name.

"No, thank you," I breathed. "I'm fine, sir."

"You sure?" 

Something in me snapped; "Why are you asking me that?" Why was he acting like he cared?

With a sigh, Mr. Godfrey put away the handkerchief-- my eyes traced his hand as it slowly went to rest at my thigh. Oh God. Finally, he looked at me, not interested in reprimanding me for my sharp response, but to calculate his next moves. "We never actually discussed any conditions," he said. "But you didn't safe word me, so I can only assume--"

"Why can't I touch you?"

Mr. Godfrey blinked. His gaze faltered for a second. I hoped that he could see the hurt in my eyes, the confusion, yet the gentle, innocent nature of my question. I wasn't here to persecute him-- I simply wanted to understand. 

His green eyes traced my face and the flustered redness of my cheeks; "I don't like it," he answered. 

The words dropped like iron between us.

There was no elaboration. No explanation. Just the sterile finality of a man who had already made peace with his limits and didn't see the need to explain them to anyone, and least of all me. He continued, and his hand on my thigh burned with the hypocrisy; "If that's going to be a problem, you should say so now,"

The silence buzzed around us. An invisible bruise bloomed on my heart, wider than the handprint on my ass. I looked down at my folded hands in my lap. "But you can touch me?" I whispered, hating the way my voice shook from the aftermath of what had just happened.

Mr. Godfrey didn't answer right away. He shifted in his seat, slow, deliberate, and my body moved with his. "I didn't say it was fair," he said. "I said it was the rule."

"Can I... also implement rules?"

It was clear to me that no one had asked him that before. "Well..." I dared to look at him again, rounding out my eyes to hopefully advocate for my case through the sad, drowned puppy-dog look I had mastered. It worked every time with others, so why wouldn't it work with him? Mr. Godfrey's neutrality faltered for a moment, and his brain recalibrated the course before he answered; "Sure, fine. But I can veto them."

"That's unfair!"

"Bet it is,"

Just for a second, I felt our dynamic. Just for a second, I could imagine us breaking out into small hiccups of laughter. Because now, I could see hints of amusement in his green eyes again, could think clearly enough to recognise how intimate this felt, how intimate this was-- he was teasing me, wasn't he? That felt normal. This could be normal, had the both of us been normal too; it killed me that we would never be.

"Fine," I mumbled, hoping to recover from the blow to my heart. "I want two new rules."

Mr. Godfrey nearly laughed-- I saw it in his eyes. "Two?"

"Two,"

"You're getting ahead of yourself,"

"You just pulled me over your lap and spanked me. I'm being reasonable,"

That was what it took. Mr. Godfrey sat back with an acknowledging hiss, raising his brows as though to motion for me to continue; was I really bargaining with a seasoned businessman? And was it working? Damn. 

I cleared my throat, fixating my gaze on the hand he had on my thigh. "After... after something like this happens, I get ten minutes. With you, to-- to just... exist in the same room without you barking orders. To just be normal,"

Mr. Godfrey didn't look thrilled, but he also didn't say no. "Ten minutes," he repeated, flat. "Clock starts the second we're done."

"Deal,"

"And the second one?"

I swallowed hard; I knew that my next condition could be slammed down with a hard, dismissive veto vote. My voice was small and frail when my words finally left me; "I want you to actually look at me,"

That seemed to confuse him. "I am looking at you,"

"No, no, I'm not talking about right now," I mumbled. "But I know that you know that I look at you from my desk, and I want you to... look back from time to time."

I expected silence. Maybe a scoff, or that bored blink Mr. Godfrey gave when he was ready to move on. But instead, something shifted in his expression, like a tiny crack along porcelain. "I don't know about that one," he finally said.

My heart sank. "Why?" 

"Because the more I look at you, the more distracted I get," 

"In what way would that be distracting? It's just eye-contact! It would take less than a second out of your day, and!--"

"I get distracted," he bit back, speaking through gritted teeth like he had to contain himself with all he had. "Because every time I look at you, I start thinking about how I promised myself to make the new hire one I wouldn't want to gawk at all day."

My breath caught. It actually caught. I stared at him, stunned, my lips parting but unable to form anything concise. Was this real? Had he actually said that? "Wait-- are you saying?--" I couldn't even finish. I was grinning, I felt myself grinning like an idiot, and I couldn't stop it. "You think that I'm?--"

"Your ten minutes are over," He didn't smile back. He probably didn't enjoy how any of this made him feel. Was he regretting saying that? 

Then, with no ceremony at all, he shifted beneath me and nudged me off his lap with a firm, unapologetic scoot, like this was a conference call that had just run long. I landed on my feet, still stunned, still warm, and stupidly happy. "Mr. Godfrey, sir, I--"

"Get back to work,"

Fucker. "But... my day is over now,"

Mr. Godfrey groaned, rolling his eyes as he turned his computer back on. "Go home, then," 

Then, to my surprise, one of his hands went beneath his desk, and the lock to the door clicked open with a click. Wait-- when had he locked it? When had he managed? With my heart in my throat, I turned to him, beaming; "You actually locked it," I breathed. 

Mr. Godfrey let out an annoyed huff as he glared up at me. "I'm not a fucking idiot. Of course I locked it,"

I would've squealed, had this been such an occasion. "Thank you," I purred, adjusting my skirt-- God, how I hoped I'd have a mark on my behind. I knew I was going to rush to the bathroom to check it out now, anyway. "Will that be all, sir?"

His green eyes didn't leave me-- didn't blink. "Do you like blue?" he suddenly asked.

"... Are we going through the colours of the rainbow today, sir?"

"Obviously not. I'm just thinking out loud. Maybe red would be more suitable?"

"For what...?"

Mr. Godfrey shrugged like this was the most normal conversation on earth-- you best believe it wasn't; 

"Your next present,"

(a/n: need me a Mr. Godfrey, like... STAT. thank you for all the support my loves, I have been re-reading ur comments over and over and AGHHH life is worth living<333)

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[prettyfilmz]

ACTS OF SERVICE • JIMMY USO

authors note: hey friends! I’m back with the second installment of my love language series this time with mr. jonathan fatu himself ughh i miss my thick daddy anyways🤭 i hope you enjoy this one, up next is our OTC roman reigns🙂‍↕️ (also shoutout to my rn/cna followers, as an upcoming cna myself I dedicate this to you and I 💗)

summary: after a stressful day at the hospital, jimmy knows just what to do to melt the stress away from your day.

warnings: 18+ (you better go play with them school books before you play wimme) porn w/smidge of plot, dom! jimmy uso x sub! fem reader, reader is black, reader is a nurse, unprotected sex (be smart and wrap the peen), cunnilingus, daddy kink, doggy style, lil bit of spanking (one single spank), dirty talk, small bit aftercare at the end.

word count: 1.5k words

after twelve grueling hours at the hospital, you stepped through the front door of your apartment, body aching with exhaustion and strain. you drop your bag and kick off your pink crocs, the soft thud barely registering in your brain. but what did catch your attention was the sight of jimmy lounging on the couch, a warm grin already spreading across his face.

“hey, pretty mama,” he greeted you, standing up and meeting you halfway, wrapping his strong arms around your frame and pressing a slow, deep kiss to your glossed lips. his mouth lingered against yours, the warmth and familiarity of it immediately melting away a fraction of your tension.

“hey baby,” you whisper, pulling away to head straight for the shower. jimmy watched you retreat with that same smile, knowing exactly what you need. it had become your unspoken routine—he knew you better than anyone, and that extended to the smallest details, like your need to wash away the stress of the day before you could fully unwind.

while you showered, jimmy moved to the bedroom, pulling out one of his oversized shirts and a pair of soft cotton panties. laying them neatly on the bed, he grinned to himself, knowing how much you loved lounging in his clothes. the subtle scent of him would cling to your skin, providing an extra sense of security.

when you emerged from the bathroom, your brown skin still damp and flushed, white towel barely hanging onto your curves, you spot him standing by the foot of the bed. “you didn’t have to do that,” you said softly, a tired but grateful smile on your lips as you let the towel drop to the rugged floor.

jimmy’s eyes twinkled with desire as they roamed over your naked skin, your curves highlighted by the soft light in the room, brown nipples perked up by the exposure. “girl you know i’d do anything to help you relax…besides I love seeing you like this,” he murmured, stepping closer, his warm hands gently brushing against your full hips as you slipped into the shirt and panties he’d chosen. “you in my favorite shirt…” his voice dropped, thick with heat. “makin’ me wanna rip ‘em off and take you down.”

you smirk at his lewd comment, your tiredness momentarily forgotten as the heat in his gaze sparked something deep inside you. “maybe later,” you tease, but your body was already reacting to his touch, a soft hum of anticipation building in your belly. you collapsed onto the bed, sinking into the memory foam mattress with a heavy sigh. jimmy joined you, his hand finding its way to your hair, fingers gently playing with your curls knowing that’s how you self-soothe. “wanna talk about it?” he asked, his voice low, comforting.

“mmhmm,” you nod, closing your eyes as you felt the tension in your scalp ease with his touch. “non-stop work. I barely had time to breathe or eat.” you vent to him about your long, grueling shift, the words coming out in a rush. as you spoke, jimmy’s hands never left your body, his fingers wandering from your hair down to your neck, rubbing soft, gentle circles that made you exhale deeply.

when you finally finished, jimmy leaned in, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I don’t like it when my baby is stressed,” he whispered, his voice now carrying a note of something darker, something that made your heart race. “lemme take care of you, mama. lemme help you forget all that bullshit from today.” his lips trailed from your temple down to your neck, placing soft, teasing kisses along the sensitive skin there, taking in the scent of the creamy vanilla body butter that you moisturized yourself with. you shivered, body responding immediately as heat pooled between your thighs. “jimmy…” you whispered, breath catching as his hand slid beneath the hem of your (his) shirt.

“mmhmm say my fuckin’ name,” he murmured against your skin, his hand moving higher, cupping your breast through the soft fabric. his thumb grazed your nipple, teasing it into a stiff peak, making you squirm involuntarily. “let daddy take care of you.”

you let out a soft moan in response, body already aching for more, soft skin sensitive to his every touch. jimmy shifted, positioning himself above you, his weight pressing you further down into the mattress in the most delicious way. the view was beautiful; jimmy’s long hair cascading down to his tatted shoulders, his gaze on you full of admiration and lust, and the action of his tongue quickly swiping against his lips…like a predator who caught it’s prey. his mouth found yours again, this time more demanding, his tongue sweeping across your plump lips before diving in, savoring your taste.

“you always workin’ so hard, baby. lemme make you feel good,” he whispered, his hand sliding down your body, pushing up the hem of your shirt to expose where you ached the most for him. “i’m gon’ taste you… every inch of you.”

a whimper escaped your mouth, thighs parting as his fingers found the edge of your *now* soaked panties, tugging them down with agonizing slowness. “jimmy, please…don't play..”

“I know, baby, I know,” he groaned, his voice rough with need. he lowered himself between your legs, his hands spreading your thick thighs wide, his breath hot against your glistening core. “don’t think about anything mama just feel.”

he pressed his warm mouth to you, his tongue immediately finding your sensitive clit, teasing it with slow, deliberate strokes. your head fell back, body arching off the bed as his name fell from your sweet lips like a sacred prayer, your fingers gently tugging at his thick hair. “oh fuck…jimmy,”

his grip tightened on your trembling thighs as he devoured your pussy, alternating between long, slow licks and teasing flicks of his tongue against your sensitive folds that sent you spiraling closer and closer to the edge. “there you go, baby,” he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with lust. “gimme that nut, cum on my face.”

your lower body trembled, breaths coming in shallow gasps as your orgasm unraveling under his expert tongue. just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, jimmy pulled back, full lips and beard glistening with your arousal, climbing up your body and captured your mouth in a searing kiss. you could taste the sweet, tanginess of yourself on his lips and tongue, the act made you dizzy with lust.

he gently flipped you on your stomach, his hands sliding down your smooth back as he positioned you on all fours, then stripping himself of his shorts and boxers. “you ready for me, baby?” he asked, his voice a low growl as he lined himself up behind you, tapping your pussy with the head of his cock. “yes… please daddy c’mon…” you pleaded.

jimmy obliged at your plea and pushed into you slowly, the stretch and fullness made you cry out as your fingers gripped the sheets. “you feel so damn good..I love this fucking pussy,” he groaned, his hands gripping your hips as he thrusts into your tight cunt, his pace slow and deliberate.

your head fell forward into the pillows, sweet soft moans filling the room as he moved inside you, each thrust sending shockwaves through your already sensitive body and making you feel every inch he carried. “that’s it, baby,” jimmy cooed, a hand striking against your ass making you yelp. “take this dick, be my good girl and take it.”

he picks up the pace, his hips snapping against your ass, the sound of sweaty skin slapping against each other, and the sticky wet sounds of your pussy only drove you both even crazier. your body naturally responded to every thrust, back arching as you felt your climax build with every deep, deliberate stroke to your g-spot. “fuck, daddy… I’m gonna…”

“I know, baby. come for me, lemme feel that shit” he growled, his hand sliding you to tease your clit, sending you over the edge. your body convulsed in pleasure, your orgasm crashing over as you screamed his name, warm gummy walls clenching around him. jimmy followed soon after, burying himself deep inside you as he groaned, his release hitting him hard as he peppered light kisses along your sweat slick back, his breath ragged against your neck.

after he pulled out of you and laid down next to you, he scooped you into his arms. you both stayed like that for a moment, bodies entwined, breathing heavily as the aftershocks of your passion slowly faded. jimmy pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, peering down at you in his tatted arms.

“feelin’ good now?” he murmured, his voice soft and full of affection. “i’ll order some food for us in a bit and we’ll watch one of those space documentaries you like, sound good?” all you could do is smile, head resting on his chest. “that sounds…really lovely.” you answer, feeling blissfully stress free in comparison to when you first got home.

taglist💗: @bebesobrielo

[indigofeatherfluff]

HoO redo-rodeo

So I've been having a lot of thoughts about HoO characters that I'm never going to get around to Actually Writing, so here we go:

The 7 demigods of prophecy being an uneven mix of Greek and Roman annoyed me, so here we have:

Greek: Percy, Annabeth, Piper

Roman: Jason, Hazel, Frank

Nonhuman: Leo

GREEK

PERCY

The Ascendant Godling.

His character arc is him unknowingly becoming a god, slowly drifting away from the mortal perspective, burning up his mortality faster and faster, sacrificing the last of it to strike the finishing blow to Gaea.

Keeps the Achilles Curse and we get to see it acting as a curse, how it cripples his stamina outside of active combat with adrenaline to keep him going. Needs so much more sleep and food, but while on the streets takes ambrosia/nectar to keep awake and moving. Amounts that would kill any other demigod, that he would never take if he had his memories.

Starts ending fights faster becauase he can't afford to draw them out with talking or negotiation, so falls into lethal intensity survival mode very quickly.

Arrives at Camp Jupiter earlier (timelines are messy anyways, but he should spend more time at Camp Jupiter before the Quest). I just want actual description of the bathhouse, the infrastructure, the routines and attitudes. I want to know what makes the Greeks and Romans different!

Goes by Perseus, because that's what monsters and gods know him as. Also for fun omens about being The Destroyer.

Camp Jupiter assumes they're being tested at first, but then assume that he's a god made mortal so Reyna claims his service for the Legion. She sends him on the Quest under Frank as his Task.

Becaue he's Greek, a very powerful unknown demigod older than the usual initiative and unknowingly becoming a god, he's uncomfortable with the crowds of Roman demigods and legacies, so spends a lot of time in the Temples and quiet places talking to naiads and fawns. Put into trainign as a priest for Neptune, to appease the god and keep Percy out of the way. Builds the understanding of Octavian's huge political power as Augur.

ANNABETH

The Powerless Demigod, the Strategist.

The only one without a clearly divine power, but she's spent her life training to make up the difference. Athena Cabin pours over battle plans and mythology books, anything to get an edge. She doesn't get magic weaving powers, but they all learn and practise weaving to honour their Mother's domain. Big ephasis in Athena Cabin of Athena always being the best and the wisest and Right and that whould never be questioned (which drove initial conflict with Percy in first series over parent's rivalry). Put a lot of stock in making Athena proud of her.

Character arc: after being disowned, forced onto a suicide quest that's killed countless siblings before her while on a world-saving deadlined Great Prophecy Quest, with her only magic support disenchanted... Annabeth becomes disillusioned with Athena as a goddess and a mother (because love and respect are earned, not entitled by blood... and with the example of Sally during interactions while searcing for Percy...). She disavows herself as a Child of Athena.

After Gaea: maybe she becomes a priestess to Percy after designing him a temple. Joins Jason as architect to his Potifex Maximus duties, eventually made Immortal as Architect of Olympus (because there's no way she finished redesigning Olympus in the months between the Titan War ending and Percy disappearing).

Tartarus: during the fall, she blindly sews together some of Arachne's tapasteries in the pitch blakcness to make them a parachute to halp survive the landing.

PIPER

The Titan Army Traitor.

Maybe she never got taken to Camp, maybe she did and immediately ran away from it that night or the next day rather than stay at the Hermes Distaster Relief Shelter Cabin. Either way, she gets picked up by the Titan Army cause. People who help her, train her, sympathise with feeling abandoned by the gods to the mercy of monsters. They don't have much, but they're fighting for a better world. They're family. Then things start to change; Luke becomes more Kronos and demigods start to go missing, some on Missions, some to shadowy corners and the satisfied grins of the monsters who were also angry at the gods and should be their allies. Maybe she even met Selena a few times fro Charmspeak training and listened to her sister share her worries and doubts about the Cause... then the Princess Andromeda blows up and she realises the other side are aiming to kill opposing demigods just the same as monsters. She runs before the Battle of Manhattan.

In Lost Hero, she doesn't get immediately Claimed at Camp and knows exactly why. While no one is looking, sacrifices something precious to her to Aphrodite, maybe with a vow of loyalty or something? She is very, very afraid of the gods.

Character alteration: Mean Girl. She puts on a defensive mask of vanity and sensuality, learned for the cameras and honed under the expectations of the Aphrodite Child stereotype. Runs cons with Leo as the face of the opperation, uses perfuumes to hide demigod scent.

Arc: learning to let down her walls and trust the team to have her back. Also, an earned (on both sides) reconicilliation with Aphrodite.

Embodies Aphrodite Areia, the war aspect of her mother's domain. Uses a spear and wears her cabin's enchanted pink armour. Maybe she also gets Katoptris, but parallels of Selena by training with Clarisse for the spear.

Abilities: Charmspeak, empath & emotional manipulation, voice mimicry and minor visual shapeshifting ability (ie. Mystique) for physical features (semi-involuntary with emotional surges, anger makes her teeth sharpen and nails grow points etc.). Innate sailing affinity as part of Aphrodite's domains, a way to connect with Percy.

ROMAN

JASON

The Olymian Champion.

A messy mix of feral wolf and absolute rule stickler. Was raised by Lupa and then learned how to be in human society through the Legion, through the lense of that being human pack dynamics. Human: polite, controlled, often wearing a small smile with no teeth, opperates by strict rules with Reyna offering the more flexible alernative. More than a bit OCD.

Puts the expectations of others above his personal desires and is pushed to be a puppet of the gods. Hera's Champion, Eagle Child of the God King Jupiter, Wolf Cub of Lupa (claimed as her child like Romulus and Remus, calls her mother). Blesing of Lupa gives him slightly pointed ears and teeth.

Appearance: platinum blonde hair that's almost like white lightning, electric blue eyes that glow when using powers, always carries glasses in a special armoured case and is farsighted (because he focuses too much on the bigger picture to see the immediate),

Arc: learning to live life outside of the rulebook. Letting out more wolfish behaviour and being comfortable in himself.

Conflict with Percy as caught between human knowledge of 'powerful stranger of a foreign pantheon' as a threat to protect the Pack against... and wolf instinct subconsciously recognising Baby God with Roman conditioning to kneel in deference.

HAZEL

The Living Ghost.

She came back to life, but spent decades dead and in Asphodel, so different from two-second deaths of Gwen and Jason. Hazel is a dead soul in a living body.

Physical: cold to the touch and always absolutely silent. Someone next to her hears her take a breath before speaking and is unsettled to realise they heard it because it's almost like he wan't breathing before (she was, but less than a normal human and completely inaudibly). She watches others with an like a owl-like unblinking stillness, a dark form with glowing eyes like an inverse of her father's sacred barn owl. I kind of also want her skin to be cracked through with veins of immortal gold, because her body was remade to return to life, not just resiscitated, so she would have early practice with manipulating the Mist to look normal.

Emotional: Quiet and kind but ruthless, strongly justice-oriented. Visciousness is its own mercy, especially in combat. Makes a judgement and cannot be swayed from her ruling, but is fair in learning all the contextual information before making decisions about people. A step out of rhythm with the rest of the living.

Hazel's Curse: Thanatos' chains are made out of Stygian Iron and Stygian Ice (frozen Styx water), which tries to rip her dead soul from her living body, freezes her hand to the chain. Frank sacrifices some of his life to her (via stick) to melt her hand off the chain, lighting up her gold-veins with blinding light and breaking her Curse (I just want them holding hands and glowing the gold of gods, this couple of a mortal and a ghost).

Abilities: Pluto domains over earth riches, death and agriculture. Cannon abilities, but after SoN wears cuff bracelets inlaid with gem shards that she can pull out and whip around like a deadly ribbon of shrapnel. Being semi/formerly dead, Hazel has a heightened sense for living things, extending to something agricultural (idk, but would be useful against Gaea, yeah?).

Weapon: Scythe, weapon of Proserpina (Persephony) and death connotations. Would just be cool to have her on Arion with a scythe like a golden Grim Reaper and it diversifies the weapons in the 7.

FRANK

The Cursed Legacy.

Frank is a 4th gen Legacy whose paternal Great Grandfather was a demigod son of Mars, but also secretly Legacy of Neptune by his ancestor marrying Neptune-demigod Shen Lun. Each generation has strived to earn patronage of Mars, but the blessings passed by blood have gotten weaker every generation, indicating losing divine favour. Family blames it on the dishonour of Shen Lun and his Neptune-blood sullying the bloodline.

Frank is essentially mortal, but high social class from heritage of Mars-bloodline-favour and lineage service to Legion.

He can't have any amborsia or nectar, but can carefully use the Roman alternative cures like unicorn draught.

Frank has been trained since childhood to be able to keep up with first-gen demigods in combat and uphold (secretly, to regain) the honour of Mars to the Legion. Would not be an outcast if he wasn't friends with Hazel, but he chose friendship with her over social standing/reputation.

Ended up in 5th Cohort through Octavian's machinations to 'improve the cohort standard', actually a subtle blackmail message that he knows about the fading Favour.

The stick: since Shen Lun (and his dishonourable Legion discharge), every member of his line has been born with one. Using the shapeshifting ability directly correlates to it 'burning' by dissolving in golden light. It also turns strands of hair white like the effect of holding the Sky.

There's not enough divinity in his body to handle the power in his blood. Every use kills him a little bit more, but is it dishonourable to prioritise selfish survival over the safety of his comrades? The survival of the Quest?

NONHUMAN

LEO

The Fading Spirit, the Healer.

Leo is a daimon (immortal spirit with power varying from satyr to minor god like Thanatos), a rustic fire spirit called a Dactyl (insert dinosaur jokes here). Predate satyrs and oreads, male counterpart to Hekaterides and often conflated with Kouretes. Species has almost entirely Faded into extinction.

Dactyls are ancient smiths and healing magicians, mostly associated with Hephaestus like satyrs are with Dionysus, but some individuals with others (like Paionios with Asclepius) always in a supporting role. Children of Anchiale, titanness of the warming heat of fire.

Pretends to be a demigod, disguised by Piper's perfume from Coach Hedge, after praying to Hephaeustus gets Claimed by him as a patron. Leo is Sammy and knew Hazel, protected her from monsters, left Alaska after her death, still has the diamond she gave him.

Abilities: metalworking, fire, maths, cannon abilities, healing and wild dancing.

Role: support role and essentially non-combatant, as no natural fighting ability/instinct like demigods. Engineer on the Argo II and team healer

Calypso: Leo has a lot of life experience all around the world, remebers Olympus being in different places and can catch her up of the world she's missed. By the end of the Quest, Leo is no longer in danger of Fading, Calypso is still immortal and their being together is a more equal deal.

Epilogue:

List of Immortals by the end of the series:

Percy (god), Annabeth (similar to Ariadne), Leo (daimon, but partnering with Calypso would become more level with minor god than satyr).

Other characters: Calypso, Grover (Lord of the Wild), Thalia (Huntress), Tyson, Bob and Damasen eventually.

Possibly Hazel and Frank, acting as soul guides/ psychopomps, otherwise Elysium. Possibly Jason for services as Pontifex Maximus in reviving belief of minor and/or Fading gods and daimons, but he'd probably prefer going to Elysium than staying with the Gods forever. Piper... I can't think of a significant divine link, so probably to Elysium. The immortal among the 7 would visit the Underworld souls, of course.

Camp development:

Romans: Become more inclusive, social development. Opening to trade with Greeks and through them also the Egyptians etc.

Greeks: Become more stablished, societal development. Colonize Ogygia (Calypso tethered it to Long Island) as a safe haven to live in full-time, start building a full Greek society.

[koscheys-skull]

Bullying, Mean, and Honest Truths About Spirituality

Under the cut is an honest and crude description based off of my own bias and opinion of new people joining Spiritual practises, the occult, or seeking magic and mysticism.

So you want to start practising the Occult.

You are drawn to the idea of Mysticism, Magic, the Occult, and “Witchcraft”. Let me say that again, but louder.

You.

Are Drawn.

To the IDEA Of Mysticism, Magic, the Occult and “Witchcraft.

A lot of people like the idea of pets.

Pets are fun! You get a cat or a dog and they hang around and you imagine yourself going for long walks or hikes with a canine companion, or sitting at home and enjoying the company of a furry feline. Maybe it isn’t a dog or a cat or a common household pet. Maybe you want a bird! They are fun, right?

You see people on the internet through videos on whatever platform you’re wasting your hours on. You fantasize about what you would do or have. You spend hours entertaining this fantasy while looking at everyone else’s lives and situations.

You are drawn to the idea of something.

And then you ignore the important detail that these things require work, time, and dedication.

The Occult is just like people and pets.

There’s more people that i know that should not have pets than people that I know are responsible pet owners.

This, for me, is the same with the occult. Only, if you choose to neglect the Occult practise you claim to be drawn to, there isn’t really a penalty like a vet bill or a dead creature that you were supposed to be responsible for, for your negligence.

“Oh, I’ll just pick a “class” like an RPG and I’ll roll with it.”

Will you though? Will you dedicate the time and energy to do research on the subject matter you claim to be interested in? And not only will you give it the time and energy to just begin with the research, but will you also put in the dedication to put it into practice?

Be realistic with yourself. What are you actually going to do? Are you capable of maintaining routines and managing yourself and keeping up with the demands of the occult? Or are you just whimsically interested in it because it sounds “cool” and you had some friends in school that played with some tarot cards so now you think you’re a witch.

Let’s pretend you do actually have the self control and discipline to dedicate yourself to a spiritual path and practise. Let’s pretend you have that kind of integrity (but let’s be honest, you and I both know that’s a load of wash.)

Most likely, you’re coming from an Abrahamic Background, aren’t you? In the least, you’ve spent a lot of your life surrounded by vaguely misshapen ideas of “some sort of binary system where there’s good and bad spirits” or something or another and demons might be a thing? You don’t really know. But you took a class once that talked about Greek and Roman gods or maybe the Norse and Celtic gods, so you know there’s Gods out there! So that’s a START! Let’s go!!!!!!!!

You can just pick a god and run with it, right? Like, who cares? Just pick what makes you go “Yeah that’s neat and cool. I’ll take this out for a spin.” and pretend that you’re somehow deeply connected to this being. You read something or another about this deity or this pantheon at some point or another (or something like that). Just google search and read the Wikipedia page and waste a few more hours on it till you’re a Reddixpert on it! You have everything you need and a few days later you throw down a candle and incense and you’re blown away by feeling a strong connection to this god! HOLY COW! It’s working?! Let’s face it, you’ve not been connected to anything at all in your self obsessed life for a long time. So you think it’s “Special” when you get an answer. It’s not.

Sorry, sugar. You’re not special. You’re not a little special little sugar plum fairy that is adored by the gods. Because, believe it or not, you have to build relationships. But not just that, you’ve just pulled a “White Person” move. Most likely, you didn’t consult with or have any discussions with practitioners of the ethnicity and belief system you are interested in. Nor did you research the culture and how the religious and spiritual beliefs of those people manifest. I would suggest you learned some or a little bit or even all of the language of the people that the religion belonged to, but let’s be honest again with one another, you don’t have that in you for sure. You chose to take a God from a Pantheon and chose to take it entirely out of context. Congratulations! You pulled a White Colonialism Move so good that you took it to a spiritual level!

What? You thought you could just pick whoever from wherever and just rip them out of their culture, place, language, and people and water it down till it suited you? What is this, Wicca?

It might be! If this sounds like your idea of fun, check out Wicca. They’re full of it. You have gods from across all seas (Except for some reason the Pacific? Not sure if it’s a weird Asian racism problem or if they’re just focusing on everything the British Empire stole from) being Shipped together like smutty fanfiction. It’s insane. Anubis and the Morrigan are having babies every year, I guess, and their child, who’s always a Son, is the next Cernunnos who is also Pan but also Hades and also is Thor every third life (or something, I don’t know I’m not Wiccan).

What, you didn’t think that you actually had to respect a culture and the people that a religion belongs to? What are you, a pilfering bandit? There’s a right way and a wrong way to do these things. But what’s important is that you have to be honest.

Yeah that’s a big word. “Honesty”.

How honest are you with yourself? How true are you to what you think you can achieve and accomplish? Are you really going to read all of those books and write notes and document things? Are you really going to make a whole entire lifestyle change that surrounds and accommodates the culture, belief systems, and structures of a culture’s religion and beliefs? Are you? Are you really? If you make the change, are you going to commit to the change? Or, in a few weeks or months are you going to revert right back to the way you’ve always lived your life?

Again. This is the difference between enjoying the idea of something versus actually doing the work. And that is what the occult is. It is work.

Work. Work. Work. Work. Work. It is putting you on the grindstone and making you both rethink, reshape, and re-evaluate your entire being. It is going to make you uncomfortable. It is going to challenge you. It is meant to help you grow and be better. And growth doesn’t happen when you’re being spoon fed off of a lace spoon. Your idea of what things are is going to be challenged.

That’s another word that has a tendency to throw people out of the Occult. Challenge.

If you’re new to the Occult, you’re going to have to learn a critical skill that, in my opinion, very few possess.

Everyone wants to be “right”. It sucks when you’re wrong. How well do you handle it when someone corrects you. Let’s be honest. It’s awkward. It’s embarrassing. Everyone wants to be right. YOUR PRIDE IS SENSITIVE DAMNIT!

You’re a sensitive snowflake and you need to be swaddled in soft cashmere and reassured that you’re perfect because of course you are, sugar-pie.

But we have to touch some grass and live in reality. Yeah, I know the occult feels like you’re indulging a fantasy, but it’s not. Spiritual practises and spiritual beliefs are real things that have real people of many different cultures and languages and walks of life. And these practises are not just little badges and stickers you can throw on a water bottle and make yourself feel like a “Validated Witchy Bitch, Baby! ‘Cause we’re Feminist and COOL.”

(And by the way, you are not “The Daughters of the Witches you Couldn’t Burn”. Get fucked, you uneducated slut.)

You are going to have to approach everything, and yes I mean everything, with the air of caution in your heart and mind that says “Maybe I do not know what I am talking about.”

This is almost impossible for some (haha just kidding it’s pretty much everyone. I’m guilty of failing at this sometimes myself), to approach everything that someone says with an air of “Maybe this person knows more than me.”

When you engage with other people and you give them the space to speak about a subject that they are educated in, always be open. You must be so open that you automatically assume that you know nothing about the subject that someone is going to educate you on. Assume you have no education at all. And then listen. Yeah, I said it. You have to listen.

Listening??? To someone else??? Telling you what’s what???? Are you kidding me? What is this, a Learning Experience?

Yes, Yes it is you poor summer child. It is a learning experience. And if you can’t be bothered to learn and to try and learn then you’re not going to make it.

And if you can’t be bothered to listen, to read, to do work, to give effort, and to re-evaluate yourself constantly, you are not going to make it.

So make the choice.

Commit. Or walk away.

No one is going to think poorly of you for admitting that you’re not cut out for this.

But everyone. Everyone you interact with that is a real practitioner with a real lifestyle that encompasses their spiritual practise (because, surprise! The spiritual and the Mundane are intertwined in a very close and intimate way for practitioners) will be able to sniff you out from a mile away and know that you’re not worth your own salt.

It’s okay to be “casual” in some circumstances. It’s okay to be “subtle” or to follow paths that are more accommodating to your needs. That’s fine. Don’t get me wrong. This is a high energy and very taxing experience. There are paths that are accommodating to your needs and your degree or spoons, your laziness, or your life conditions. (I’m inclusive, dammit. Some people are disabled. Some are just fucking lazy. Some are kids with a fantasy fetish. I don’t know. I don’t care. Figure out which you are and make choices like an adult).

But don’t go picking a path or integrate yourself to a spiritual lifestyle that has high demands or you cannot adhere to. Not only is it disrespectful to the culture, the people, and the beings involved. But it’s not good for yourself, either. You will not benefit from the experience. You won’t make it anywhere and you’ll be left constantly feeling like a failure because you cannot accommodate the demands of a lifestyle and belief system that has expectations that are outside of your parameters to accommodate.

But back to YOU! Because let’s be honest, this is mostly about YOU. Everything is mostly about you and yourself. That’s just how a massive amount of people think. Which isn’t wrong, don’t get me wrong. But you have to be Self Aware. (I know most of you are not self aware. Get over it). When you set yourself up with all these fantastical expectations and then nothing progressive and fantastic happens with your practise, it is mostly because you failed to follow through with your own work. Something happened along the way where you struggled for some reason or another and you didn’t have the discipline and the integrity to keep up with something. And that feeling sucks. You feel “Let Down” by the Occult. But you let yourself down. In some way shape or form, you let yourself down. Because everything is about you, this means you have to be responsible for YOU. Yeah. I said it. You have to be responsible for yourself. No one’s wiping your Spiritual Ass for you. You have to do your own work and wipe your own spiritual butthole, and that also means cleaning up your own spiritual messes and doing the spiritual work and dedicating the time and dedicating the energy and making the changes to your life you need to make and then committing to them. It’s all Change, baby! And if you can’t handle change, then you can’t handle commitment to the occult.

And that’s okay! If you can’t handle some things, then DON’T FUCKING DO THEM?????

Maybe step away from that. And yeah, it’s okay to “try” some things to a degree. But please. For the love of fuck, approach them with the respect, dignity, and understanding that they deserve. Always approach a practise (And 99% of all practises have roots in SOME sort of ethnic culture!) with the respect it deserves. Do your best to adhere to those cultures and their beliefs and be as strict as you can while accommodating those traditions. They’re called “Traditions” for a reason. Treat them like they are sacred because they are. I shouldn’t have to explain to people that “Traditions of Spiritual Cultures are Sacred”, yet this post is being made because, quite clearly, this is a common issue.

I’m not “Gatekeeping” anything by saying this. I’m telling you to explore as much as you can. But when you do so, don’t explore different spiritual practises and traditions like the tourists that make the locals want to commit a homicide. Which is how so many people getting into the occult treat Traditions they are exploring.

You want to be a good and a welcome guest. You can’t just trample whatever you feel like because you’re too self centred with your selfie stick in Greece to be aware that you’re disrupting people trying to live their daily lives. The locals should want you. Try to connect to the people and their language and culture. Don’t just stand in their ways and think their society should accommodate you because you’re visiting.

It is okay if something turns out that it isn’t for you. Be honest about it. Be respectful about it. Thank the people and the culture and those gods for their time for being Gracious Enough to Host you. And then move on. A little respect goes a long, long way.

The Occult and Spiritual practises opens the way for you to re-think everything that you believe and to apply new ideas, beliefs and principles to yourself to help you grow and explore yourself and your connection to people and places with deeper understanding.

Be honest.

Be open.

You have to grow. And if you are interested in the Occult, Spirituality and Mysticism, get ready because there’s going to be so many growing pains.

And if you can’t handle that,

Then why are you here?

[mqrrstarr]

Modern AU Caracalla and Geta!

Brother Shenanigans! Part One

(Barnes and Noble, Target, Olive Garden)

Warnings: not edited properly uhh idk I don’t have siblings so idk if this is accurate 😞🙏

A/N: officially a tumblr writer I suppose, and it’ll just keep being gladiator for a while. anyways, I saw a post of a photo of Caracalla in a restaurant and I forgot what it said but it sparked an idea in me. (btw, go join the roman history/gladiator community!!) anyways this will be a series, and comment stores/locations you’d want me to write about!!

Summary: Caracalla and Geta go shopping together and stuff happens.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Caracalla always drags Geta out of the house, wanting to take his brother on random and spontaneous shopping trips.

Caracalla adores going to Barnes and Noble, spending time in both the history and fiction area. He’d spend time looking for interesting titles and skimming through pages of books, easily spending three hours on one. (Also occasionally going to the kids area, reliving his favorite childhood tales and keeping up with new children’s literature.)

Caracalla would also spend time in the cookbook area, as he yearns to learn how to cook. (Geta does all the cooking, and Caracalla can only make things like toast and simple breakfast. For the sake of Dondas of course.)

Geta in this situation would spend time at the Starbucks in B&N and would probably have a magazine. (Assuming they’re emperors/royalty, most likely a magazine of himself.) He’d get his usual drink, some sort of caffeine filled delicacy to keep his nerves alert.

Caracalla would get ready to leave and checkout and find Geta still drinking his fifth drink and tenth brownie. He’d get up and see Caracalla smiling and be content his brother was happy.

Soon after, in the car (chariot) Caracalla would read his books and Geta would drive to the next location. (they have money so they’re target people lmao)

Pulling up to the Target, I feel like Geta would be the one most interested here. He’d walk around with a cart, acting like he owns the place but truly just looking for clothes and home decor. He loves vases for flowers and for a historical vibe.

(Gotta keep the “palace” nice.)

Caracalla wouldn’t be far behind his brother though, and he’d be complaining to Geta saying something like;

“Getaaaa. Enough with the sweaters, you have enough at home. I’m boredddd. Ughhhhh. I forgot to feed Dondas I think. Anyways, Geta keep moving or I’m going to steal your video games.”

This motivates Geta (he’s a gamer most likely bc of Caracalla) and he keeps going. A long time later, they stop to eat dinner at Olive Garden.

(Italy reference help I’m so sorry if you’re Italian and this is offensive I love you all)

The brothers sit down to eat and take time to order food. When they receive their drinks, Geta with a soda and Caracalla with a semi alcoholic drink (erasing the pain) they order.

Geta gets pasta with shrimps with a Cesar salad on the side.

Caracalla orders some chicken parmesan, some spaghetti, a chili soup, with a tiramisu as desert.

They eat and go home to their lovely mansion, decorated with a pool in the back. Dondas runs to Caracalla and his books. While they hug, Geta brings in the sweater he bought and the five different vases he got too. They watch a movie on Netflix, one titled Pompeii.

(Actually a movie btw it’s okay)

The day’s action has exhausted Caracalla, and he falls asleep a few minutes in. Geta simply smiles and continues his work from the morning. This routine keeps them happy, and keeps them bonded. He’s happy to have someone to trust. He’s grateful he has a brother.

the end <33

[goldsdaydreams]

I’m loving these snippets and hc’s about the littles and caregivers!!!!

I was working out at my gym when I thought what would each little do as their caregiver is working out? Join in? Badly copy? Play or mess up equipment? Or pretend to be weights just to be carried?

Also here’s a napping drew pic!!!!! I’ve been getting these a lot on Pinterest (definitely not squealing each time I see them..)

I LOVE THE NAPPING DREW!!! :D

Pinterest is so wonderful for cute photos of everyone, I love it so much <3333

I hope you enjoy!!!!

DEAN:

He doesn't really ‘work out’ so to say. Taking him to a gym while he's regressed wouldn't really be a good idea. However, he LOVES running around in the backyard, having Seth watch him. If Seth or Roman are working out at home, he'll sit on the floor and babble excitedly about anything he can think of. He can be convinced to do a few push ups though if one of them says they don't think he can do more than them

ROMAN:

He pretends not to be, but he's really too little to properly work out. He'll swear up and down that he can follow Seth's routine, but he'll get distracted so easily. It's a lot for his tiny brain, and trying to keep up with Seth can get overwhelming at times. Usually he'll just leave and find another one of his boys to curl up with, but if he does get overwhelmed, Seth will find his weighted blanket and wrap him in it, rocking him until he's calm.

BRON:

Kinda like Roman, following a routine or doing certain things can be too much for a puppy, and he'll just sit and watch the Shield work out. Seth will have him run around the backyard (maybe even trying to run on all fours) with Dean as a way to “work out”. He will however use Dean or Roman as weights when they're regressed, just to make them giggle.

JACOB:

If he's with someone very, very patient (So, Solo) he will try his hardest to copy him. He'll be a bit sloppy, and isn't able to handle as much weight as he usually is, but he wants to make Solo proud. He'll follow along with whatever it is that Solo's doing, even if it isn't what he would usually do.

DOM:

He's too baby to work out. Either the Judgment Day has to take turns working out so someone can watch him, or they'll call Rey in to babysit him while they go to a gym. He loves to sit in a corner and watch them, babbling away, but he loves ‘working out' with his dad even more. He'll lay across Rey's back as he does push ups, squealing with delight the whole time. Plus, Rey can be very easily convinced to give him a sweet treat afterwards.

JD:

He's actually very good at working out while little, for the first half an hour. He'll be very careful and calm, listening to everyone and following his own routine. However, once he gets bored, he starts fiddling with the equipment the rest of the Judgment Day are using. It gets to a point where they'll either have to give him someone's phone with a cartoon on it, or send someone home with him.

PENTA: Actually really enjoys working out with Fenix while little. He enjoys it while big too, but there's something about the extra care that's there that he loves. He'll follow Fenix's routine the best that he can, listening to his every word. Occasionally Fenix will have Penta pick what they do, and he spends the whole time giggling with joy.

JEY:

Cannot be convinced to go anywhere near a gym while little, unless threatened with no waffle house. That's only used if they have no babysitter for him though. He will quite literally lay down, starfished on the floor. If his CG tells him to do something, he'll lightly lift his legs and say he's exercising. However, if Sami asks really nicely, he can be convinced to lift a (light) weight, he does it to show off for Sami.

PUNK:

Nothing brings him more joy than being with Drew or AJ. If either of them are working out at home, he'll very nicely ask if he can join them. He can't 100% keep up with them, but they'll usually go a bit more gentle, and he loves it. He won't go to a gym or anything while little, even with one of them, but he will happily sit in the car. AC on and his phone playing his favorite show of course.

DREW:

Kinda like Punk, he really won't choose to go to a gym while little, but he does occasionally join Punk or AJ. He will sit in the same room with them if they're home, playing with his action figures (dolls) and pretending he's working out that way.

CODY:

Literally just a baby. You will not catch him doing anything that sorta looks like exercise unless Randy or Brandi is there. Even then, it's him having them lift him up, or sitting/laying on Randy's back. He loves it when either of them pick him up and hold him, and the first time Randy held him bridal style and started to curl him, Cody laughed out of pure delight so hard he cried.

[brooklyn-house]

brooklyn house trainees misc. headcanons

singlehandedly forcing the kane chronicles fandom to life less gooo

sean ryan (path of tefnut - goddess of rain and moisture) and alyssa (path of geb - god of the earth) like to goof around together

alyssa is the reason there's a steam room and sauna on the ground floor of the brooklyn house

cleo from rio (path of thoth - god of knowledge) is a tumblr girlie (gods bless her) and owns a t-shirt with neil banging out the tunes

when she finds out about the greco-roman demigods, she routinely sends postcards to camp jupiter on the ides of march with "sorry for your loss" or "i heard they killed your guy again"

julian (path of horus - god of war) spends his spare time programming and doing math competitions

he has tried to combine some of the magic words taught to him to help him with electronics. his efforts have not been successful just yet

cleo likes to duat travel to other nomes' libraries and read up on things that the 21st nome just doesn't offer. she brings shabti in her bag so that they can copy documents she really likes

shelby of the ankle biters likes to draw, and her art sometimes comes to life. after rachel starts visiting her neighbours, shelby finds out she paints, and starts to really look up to her

for his birthday, the rest of the nome gift felix a yearly sponsorship to one of the penguins in their nearest zoo

along freak's stable, the roof has a little greenhouse, mostly for jaz' and paul's (path of nepit - goddess of agriculture) medicinal herbs

rachel and alyssa like to learn the other's art form from each other - alyssa gives rachel tips on how to make her pottery stable, and rachel teaches alyssa how different colours work together, and what's the best way to combine them

zariya (path of shu) really decided to follow the wind god, because she plays ultimate frisbee competitively. (also because she's watched atla and could not pass up an opportunity to airbend)

zariya and julian are good buddies, zariya being one of the few people to consistently refer to him exclusively as "jules" and dragging him along to ultimate frisbee games.

the two share scientific interests, julian's math and theoretical informatics, zariya's biophysics. they'll at times discuss these, but have no illusion - it's a thing of passion and great fun for both of them. also a bit of a competition

sage, who's only joined very near the final battle against apophis, uses they/them, and follows khonsu. they're pretty inexpressive and soft-spoken. they're interested in not just the moon, but also the time-controlling aspect of khonsu's magic. (they might have gotten stuck in a time loop a few times)

they're a bit of a mysterious figure, and hardly ever speak to anyone. contrary to popular belief, this isn't because they feel any animosity, they just don't really know what to say, so they prefer to keep to themself.

when older, shelby of the ankle biters decides to follow the path of bes. she's grown up with all incredibly fun people, and besides being the dwarf god, bes is also one of the art gods. freedom of self-expression and all that. shelby's never been afraid of expressing herself.

teagan (path of bast), who joined the crew sometime between the throne of fire and the serpent's shadow, is actually a trans girl! she's the one who catalyzes zia's own realization that he's trans as well. while the goddess is in the brooklyn house, the two love to hang out, bast directly teaching her some of her tricks on living the best life (the catgirl life)

for day 2 of @brooklyn-house-week 2025: shared pasttimes :)

send me asks about any of these kids or whatever rrverse related! i'll happily make up more headcanons <3

[ominous-faechild]

STORY INTRO:

RISING FROM THE ASHES (interact with this post to join the taglist)

During a routine, staged mission assigned by Kieran Caron—the headmaster of Lotus Academy—three unfortunate students get caught in the middle of a disaster that devastates the city of Vemor and nearly kills them all.

Along with the help of a prodigious healer recruited from the relief efforts, will they be able to uncover what caused the disaster? Will they bring the perpetrators to justice, or be able to keep it from happening again?

Or will the four watch as more disasters continue to unfold?

THEME SONGS:

Police tape, don't cross the line It looks like there's been a crime And ooh, it's your favourite type Attempted murder of my mind (...) Body bag Thought you could put me in a body bag You tried your best, but it was never gonna last You know me, I'm always coming back You can keep your body bag Your body, body Haha, did you miss me, bitch? Did you reminisce signing my death certificate? You almost got away with it But the reaper snitched Now you got to admit to Your crimes, your lies So slick, so sly, yeah Why you gotta be that guy? Like We could've been so tight, yeah (yeah) But you just had to decide to Get in line, get in line In line, line, line, line You are not the first to try Better luck next time

At the end of the day, it's a human trait Hidden deep down inside of our DNA One man can build a bomb, another, run a race To save somebody's life and have it blow up in his face I'm not the only one who finds it hard to understand I'm not afraid of God, I am afraid of man Is it running in our blood, is it running in our veins? Is it running in our genes, is it in our DNA? Humans aren't gonna behave as we think we always should Yeah, we can be bad as we can be good (...) Were we born to abuse, shoot a gun and run Or has something deep inside of us come undone? Is it a human trait, or is it learned behaviour? Are you killing for yourself or killing for your saviour?

MAIN CHARACTERS:

♞ Carmin Lévêque ♞ Kieva Caron ♞ Sammy Bardales ♞ Mei Li

SECONDARY CHARACTERS:

♜ Kieran Caron ♞ Roman Lévêque ♚ Elazi Adlani

(there's technically a lot more characters in the story, but these guys are some of the most "key" players, haha)

ADDITIONAL INFO:

♙ high fantasy! ♙ “gaslamp fantasy” if you've heard of it ♙ aka kinda victorian-era fantasy ♙ steampunk magitech vibes :> ♙ there's a purposeful contrast of “industrial revolution”-type vibes/technological advances and a society that's highly feudal in nature. the overall society is a mish-mash of seemingly conflicting ideas... and the society itself is aware of it. ♙ aka—sword-and-sorcery edition! ♙ tons of action! ♙ INTENSE MAGIC FIGHTS LEZZGO!

♙ mystery! ♙ “whodunnit”-esque! ♙ very much also a political mystery ♙ tons of political intrigue within kihroin! ♙ mayhaps it has to do with vemor...?

♙ as one-third of what i've deemed “the blazing trinity”, rising from the ashes takes place at approximately the same time as both sun and shadow and waves of misfortune. there will be some character overlaps and important events of one can and will impact another. ♙ despite this, the stories will be wholly able to be read individually—knowledge of the other works will not be required to understand any of them.

♙ includes: ♙ allegories. ♙ so. many. allegories. ♙ neither of us want me listing them all ♙ lots of parallels to our society ♙ lgbtqia+ rep ♙ much queer. much wow ♙(/pos) ♙ oh, is that a poly relationship i see? ♙ neurodivergent rep ♙ just assume everyone is autistic or adhd ♙or both LMAO ♙ ptsd, anxiety, depression, etc

♙ content warnings: ♙ while there's some literal ways the following(s) apply, there's far many more allegorical ways they do. there is a reason i've titled myself the “writer of allegories” ♙ shows depictions of: ♙ (familiar) fantasy politics ♙ slimy politicians ♙ xenophobia ♙ racism ♙ sexism ♙ religious zealotry ♙ religious trauma ♙ contains implications of: ♙ past SA

THEMES:

♙ recovering from past traumatic experiences; ♙ how they don't define you or control you ♙ how it can be difficult, but it's worth it.

♙ discovering one's self, their interests, and their motivations

♙ helping others in the way you wish you could've been

♙ DISCRIMINATION, OKAY??? A FUCKTON OF IT ♙ each of the mcs is something society hates. ♙ (both ours and theirs, hmmm...)

♙ “man, these religious zealots kinda suck”

CHARACTER INTROS:

♙ Carmin Lévêque ♙ Kieva Caron ♙ Sammy Bardales ♙ Mei Li ♙ Kieran Caron ♙ Sebastián “Tián” Caron ♙ Roman Lévêque ♙ Elazi Adlani

PLAYLIST:

TAGS:

#high fantasy #action #action fantasy #diverse characters #fantasy #urban fantasy #political fantasy #fantasy story #fantasy writing #fantasy world #worldbuilding #fantasy worldbuilding #fantasy novel #magic world #comedy #humor

#sword and sorcery #political maneuvering #political manipulation #nobility #knight #knights

#diverse characters #poc in fantasy #poc characters #lgbtq+ characters #lgbtqia characters #lgbtq characters #lgbt fiction #neurodivergent characters #autistic characters #adhd character #autistic coded #autistic creator

#morally grey characters #asshole characters #morally gray

TAGLIST:

@honeybewrites @the-golden-comet @illarian-rambling @ashirisu @urnumber1star

@the-letterbox-archives @48lexr @aalinaaaaaa @thecomfywriter @an-indecisive-nerd

@seastarblue @rae-butter @leahnardo-da-veggie @world-of-iridensia

(interact with this post to join the taglist)

dividers by @saradika

[trippinsorrows]

No but I just knoooooow Roman is gonna watch Lina and Leya putting a face mask on Roro's face (you know is gonna be one of those with animal faces printed on it) while they're all doing their skincare routine in on of the twins' bathroom and is going to walk STRAIGHT into Aubrey's nursery, to watch her sleep or hold her and he's gonna be like "you're not gonna grow up on me that fast, are you?" 😩🥺😭

omg! yes! cause like, imagine, i literally just made this up lmao, but imagine once a month roro watches a movie with roman. it's like tradition for them. he has a tradition with all the kids, and that's hers. and he's ready for their movie only for her to be like, "i wanna hang out with lina and leya tonight, daddy." and the twins also have once a month where they hang out, watch movies, do skincare, lina does leya's makeup, etc. and roro is joining them.

and like you said, roman sees the girls all listening to music, laughing, applying roro's face mask, and like, he loves how close they are but also....it's movie night. 😭😭😭

and he's most definitely going in aubrey's nursery or holding her, needing to hold onto his last baby girl. 🥺🥺🥺

[letjoelightshine]

Let "JOELIGHT" Shine

I've always been one of those wanna-be bloggers. You know, keep thinking about starting one and never getting started. Finally, after a men's Bible study, I think I found my path to what I want to start.

Before getting into what this blog will be all about, let me share how the title originated.

The church I attend has a wonderful neighborhood outreach. Most of the people living near the church are at or below the poverty level. One of their missions is a Community Night. On Community Night you can bring your entire family to have a hot meal, and these meals are prepared by volunteers guided by the chef of the church. Then you can stay for a time to worship and hear a powerful message, while the children are upstairs having fun and learning about Jesus.

Now, not to pass up a meal, I attend and support Community Night. I usually get there an hour early and read or maybe have a conversation or two with a volunteer before things get busy. Since I'm a creature of habit, I usually set at the same table each and every week. It's angled perfectly to where I can see the entire room. I am one of those that do enjoy a good round of people-watching. Of course, after some time of doing the same routine, I started getting a regular group that has come and joined me. I'm not bragging, but it has grown to two tables now.

This church has been truly blessed within the last year. It has a wonderful set of pastors with one being brand new to the congregation. The new pastor and I have made a really good connection since his arrival. We have talked on several occasions and he has made an effort to really get to know me. A few of those stories will arise in future writings. However, on a Community Night, at the table I normally sit at, he approached me and told me that there is a light that he sees at my table each and every week. A light that he has noticed has gotten bigger and bigger as each week passes. "Let Joe Light Shine", is what he spoke.

The more I thought about it the better I liked it. The more I thought about it the more I saw God working through this new pastor to get to me. After that particular Men's Bible study, I mentioned earlier. Where we talked about our own pain and suffering and how God uses that to benefit not only us but to minister to others. I see the pathway to where I need to at least get started.

Matthew 5:14-16 says, "You are the light of the world-like a city on a hilltop that cannot be hidden. No one lights a lamp and then puts it under a basket. Instead, a lamp is placed on a stand, where it gives light. In the same way, let your good deeds shine out for all to see, so that everyone will praise your heavenly Father."

It's not just my light, it's your light too. Let your light shine and put your name in where mine is at. I'm going to let mine shine by sharing all my pain. Romans 8:17 tells us, "And since we are his children, we are his heirs. In fact, together with Christ we are heirs of God's glory. But if we are to share his glory, we must also share his suffering." I have a ton of pain, some that have been building up over years and years of suffering. Most of it is being used by the enemy to tear me down and to tell me things that are not true.

After finally using Proverbs 27:17, "As iron sharpens iron, so a friend sharpens a friend." The men's Bible study showed me a pathway for many things to come. What is it? Where is it going? Only God has those answers. He has told me what I need to do for now and to hold on to what will be coming next.

Feel free to comment here or please drop me a message at letjoelightshine@gmail.com. I would love to hear from you and would also equally enjoy praying for you as well. "Confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The earnest prayer of a righteous person has great power and produces wonderful results." James 5:16.

[sarath07]

Can You Crack the IAS Exam Without Coaching?

The UPSC Civil Services Examination (CSE) is one of the toughest competitive exams in India, and many aspirants wonder if they can clear it without coaching. The short answer? Yes, it is absolutely possible! Many successful candidates have cleared the IAS exam through self-study, discipline, and the right strategies. However, it requires a well-structured approach. In this blog, we will break down how you can crack the IAS exam without coaching while ensuring effective preparation.

1. Understanding the Exam Structure

Before diving into preparation, it's essential to understand the three stages of the UPSC exam:

Preliminary Exam (Prelims): An objective-type exam with General Studies (GS) Paper I and CSAT (Paper II, qualifying in nature).

Mains Exam: A descriptive paper consisting of nine papers, including an essay and optional subject.

Personality Test (Interview): A face-to-face interaction to assess your personality, knowledge, and decision-making skills.

Knowing the structure will help you design a self-study plan that covers all aspects of the exam.

2. Create a Well-Structured Study Plan

Without coaching, you need a solid study plan. Here’s how you can structure your preparation:

Start with NCERT Books: NCERT books (6th to 12th standard) build strong foundational knowledge.

Follow a Daily Study Routine: Dedicate at least 6-8 hours daily with a mix of subjects.

Choose the Right Study Materials: Reference books like Laxmikanth for Polity, Spectrum for Modern History, and Economic Survey for Economy are highly recommended.

Make Notes: Summarize key points in your own words to revise quickly.

Regular Mock Tests: Taking mock tests will help in time management and self-assessment.

3. Mastering Current Affairs

One of the biggest challenges in UPSC preparation is staying updated with current affairs. You can do this by:

Reading newspapers like The Hindu or The Indian Express daily.

Following reliable online sources like PIB and Rajya Sabha TV.

Using monthly current affairs magazines for revision.

4. Developing Answer Writing Skills

The Mains examination is all about presenting well-structured answers. Improve your writing skills by:

Practicing answer writing daily on previous year’s questions.

Using a structured format (Introduction, Body, Conclusion).

Keeping your answers crisp, relevant, and data-driven.

5. Staying Motivated and Managing Stress

Self-preparation can be overwhelming, but maintaining a positive mindset is crucial. Here’s how you can stay motivated:

Follow successful self-study aspirants like Roman Saini and Kanishak Kataria.

Take regular breaks and engage in stress-relieving activities like meditation or exercise.

Join online study groups to stay connected with fellow aspirants.

6. The Role of Test Series and Online Resources

Though you may not join coaching, test series can significantly help in self-evaluation. Some of the best online test series are:

Vision IAS

Insights IAS

Drishti IAS (for Hindi medium students)

Free online resources like YouTube lectures and UPSC websites can also be valuable tools for learning.

7. When Coaching Can Be Considered?

While self-study is effective, some aspirants might benefit from coaching under specific circumstances, such as:

If you struggle with self-discipline.

If you need expert guidance for answer writing.

If you prefer structured learning with peer interactions.

If you do opt for coaching, ensure you choose the best IAS academy in Coimbatore, as it can provide structured guidance tailored to your needs.

Success Stories of Self-Study Candidates

Several IAS toppers have cleared UPSC without coaching. For example:

Anudeep Durishetty (AIR 1, 2017): Relied on self-study and online resources.

Gaurav Agarwal (AIR 1, 2013): Managed his preparation while working in the private sector.

Kanishak Kataria (AIR 1, 2018): Focused on self-study and online test series.

Their success proves that coaching is not a necessity, but hard work, strategy, and consistency are!

Conclusion: Your Path to Success Without Coaching

Yes, you can crack the IAS exam without coaching if you are disciplined, strategic, and consistent in your preparation. By leveraging self-study, test series, online resources, and effective time management, you can achieve your dream of becoming an IAS officer. However, if you ever feel the need for additional guidance, joining the best IAS academy in Coimbatore can provide structured mentorship and support.

Ready to take the next step? Whether you choose self-study or coaching, the key is commitment and perseverance. Start today and take charge of your UPSC journey!

[theprayerfulword]

October 30

Philippians 4:13 I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.

2 Timothy 1:7 For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline.

Philippians 2:15 so that you may become blamelesss and pure, “children of God without fault in a warped and crooked generation.” Then you will shine among them like stars in the sky

2 Corinthians 4:7 But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.

Romans 14:19 Let us therefore make every effort to do what leads to peace and to mutual edification.

Ephesians 5:15-16 So be careful how you live. Don’t live like fools, but like those who are wise. Make the most of every opportunity in these evil days.

When your soul is downcast within you, may you call to mind, and therefore hope, that because of the Lord's great love you are not consumed, for His mercies never come to an end – they begin again new and fresh every morning, for His faithfulness is abundant. Lamentations 3

May you remind yourself that the Lord is your lot in life, your inheritance, therefore you will wait for Him, for He is good to those whose hope is in Him, who trust in and depend on Him, and to the one who seeks Him, waiting quietly for the salvation of the Lord. Lamentations 3

May you realize that the Lord does not willingly bring affliction or grief to you, or cast you off forever, for though He brings suffering, His unfailing love is so abundant that He will also have compassion on you. Lamentations 3

Since it is from the Most High that both calamities and good things come, according to what He speaks, may you examine your ways and test them, returning to the Lord to lift up your heart and your hands to God in heaven, saying, “I have sinned and rebelled,” for can any living person complain when punished for their sins? Lamentations 3

May you call on the name of the Lord from the depths of the pit, for He will hear your plea and come near when you call, saying, “Do not fear, but receive My love,” as He takes up your case and redeems your life. Lamentations 3

My child, wait patiently for Me. Do not struggle on your own and attempt to bring My work to pass in your own strength. Do not seek to fulfill My promises by the works of your hands or the will of your flesh. Trust Me, in My timing, to do all that is needed, in the proper sequence, through the right channels, in the purity of My Spirit. Occupy yourself, in the daily routine, with praise to Me. Do you have faith that I will answer your prayer? That I will do as I have said? That I will fulfill the promise that I have put in your heart? Then praise Me now, in faith, even before you see the results. Is there any richer expression of trust, or any more effective way of removing burdens, any exercise better guaranteed to quicken your spirit or prepare you for fresh tasks in My service? I will give you a new song to sing, for many will be listening. Do not hide My righteousness from them, or conceal My love and My truth, but walk in the way I have shown you. Be patient until you see My Word coming to pass, but be diligent about the preparations I give you to do until then.

May you hear, and obey, when God speaks to you by His Son, Whom He appointed Heir of all things, and through Whom He made the universe, for the Son is deserving of being heard as He is the radiance of God's glory and the exact representation of His being, sustaining all things by His powerful Word. Hebrews 1

May you join in with all of God's creation, giving worship and praise to His Son Whose throne will endure forever, with righteousness as the scepter of His kingdom, Who, having created the universe, will outlast the works of His hands, remaining the same for years without end. Hebrews 1

May you receive the ministry of His angels, which He sends to serve those who will inherit salvation. Hebrews 1

May you cry for help to the Lord Who hears your prayer, turning His face to you and answering you quickly in your distress. Psalm 102

May you know, and be assured, that when you are destitute and your days vanish like smoke, your bones burn like embers, and your heart is blighted like grass because your enemies taunt you, railing against you, using your name as a curse, the Lord will respond to your prayer and will not despise your plea, for the Lord Who sits enthroned forever, Whose renown endures through all generations, will arise and have compassion on you, showing you favor as He appears in His glory to rebuild what the enemy has torn down and lift you up from the dust where His foes have cast you down. Psalm 102

May you understand, and receive, the release He brings to the prisoners of sin, who groan under the condemnation of death, that the name of the Lord will be declared among the people and His praise unto the kingdoms as they assemble to worship the Lord. Psalm 102

[anna-heintzelman]

The Roman Forum

Afterward, I set out on a journey to the famed Roman Forum - an expansive central plaza that served as the focal point of public life in ancient Rome. This illustrious hub hosted a plethora of events including judicial proceedings, bloodthirsty gladiatorial combats and renowned oratory conventions. Ambling through this historically-rich area is like taking a trip down memory lane; it's almost as if time had stopped right at its center ages ago. The remnants of majestic temples boasting intricate carvings and ornate pillars stand tall beside grand basilicas while arches loom over each junction with great physical gracefulness alluding to the magnificence that once was experienced atop these grounds so many moons gone by.

The Temple of Saturn, remarkable for its towering columns that reach up towards the sky, serves as a significant and lasting emblem of Rome's unwavering dedication to both matters pertaining to religion as well as governance. Quite closely situated is the Arch of Septimius Severus which features an exquisite array of intricate carvings epitomizing military conquests whilst simultaneously honoring those who unequivocally embodied what it meant to be considered warrior-emperors during their time in leadership. Every stone present here alongside every single fragment echoes tales evoking thoughts surrounding influential displays emanating from politics with motifs ranging from prominent figures regarded fondly by society all the way through betrayals consumed vigor over actions committed behind closed doors or out on sprawling battlefields.

As I stroll upon the historical Via Sacra, I come across the imposing Curia - a once-grand government building where influential members of the Senate used to meet and discuss important matters. Nearby is also situated Rostra; an elevated platform that stood as a podium for persuasive speakers who'd often sway public opinion through compelling orations. Being in such proximity to these prominent landmarks allows me to truly experience first-hand, The Forum's lively ambiance! One can almost feel its vibrancy being tactual which makes it even more imaginable to picture daily life at this place with bustling crowds consisting of merchants passionately selling their goods whilst politicians engaged in serious discussions relating to crucial national issues. Citizens too would have joined in debatable conversations while going about performing routine tasks over here thus making The Forum epitomize democracy even during ancient times.

[teleiosresearch]

Tools for the Christian Life : Praise

Welcome back to my blog. We are in a series exploring Biblical concepts in the Christian life. There are many aspects to the Christian life. However, a simple biblically-based 5-step approach to grow our relationship with God is what I call the ‘5 tools to maturity,’ taken from Acts 2:42 and 47, as follows:

Prayer

Praise

Fellowship

Receiving biblical teaching

Reaching others with biblical truth

These 5 tools describe the activities in the very first church in Jerusalem and provide a model for the actions Christians should perform routinely. Importantly, these five activities are confirmed in later verses in the epistles. 

Last week started our discussion of these 5 tools by examining the content and attitude in prayer. Today we will consider several common questions about praise.  

How do we praise?

Definition of ‘praise’ – Merriam-Webster dictionary defines ‘praise’ as:

To express a favorable judgment or commend

To glorify (a god or saint) especially by the attribution of perfections

Content of praise – For a Christian what are the elements of biblical praise? The Bible gives some hints:

Acknowledgement of God’s perfect character (Ephesians 1:6)

Acknowledgement of God’s righteous actions (Psalm 139:14; Psalm 148)

Thankfulness (Hebrews 13:15)

Reason for praise – Why do we praise God? The reasons are vital to our Christian life and are listed below:

The Bible commands us to praise – It is our duty to praise God. However, God does not give us commands without reason, so several potential explanations follow below (Psalm 150; Romans 15:11; Hebrews 13:15).

God deserves praise – Our Father in Heaven is the almighty God who has provided for our salvation through His precious Son, Jesus Christ, as a free gift through faith that we could have eternal life. This salvation is a sure hope and anchor for our souls. Surely, He deserves glory, thanks, and praise (1 Peter 4:11; Hebrews 6:19).

It is good for us to praise – God made us! Therefore, He knows what is good for us. It is good for us to praise because:

God’s ordained order – Praise reminds us of the order of the universe. We are not the most important thing in creation. God’s goals and priorities are higher and better than ours.

Humility – Realizing that God’s plans are more important than ours might limit our complaining and remind us that we are here to serve our great God.

Attitude – Praise teaches us thankfulness in realizing God’s gifts to us in creation, in Christ and His benefits in this life as our Father. These should promote an attitude of thankfulness and reduce our expectations (Philippians 4:8).

We do indeed have a great God and Savior who are worthy of all praise, honor and glory! Praise not only in church but also in your everyday life. It will transform your Christian walk.  Join us next time as we discuss fellowship.

Thanks for joining me, please return next week.

William C. Stewart, MD

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Disclaimer - This blog and its content are provided only as information and are intended for visitors 18 and older. No content on the website should be taken as advice or recommendation to any personal or institutional situation. The views expressed are those of the author and not necessarily either shared or endorsed by Teleios. Both the blog and the contents are subject to change at any time without notice. Although I endeavor to ensure that the blog and the content are current and accurate, it may contain errors. I do not represent that the blog or the content is current, accurate or complete, or appropriate for your specific requirements. I do not accept any liability from any person for the blog, the content or any other information (or the use of such information) I provide. I do not have a seminary degree, but I have trained myself in the scriptures to teach and provide this information. For any specific question, I suggest you contact experts in that field and or do your own research into the scriptures.

[rcksmith]

Be mine — Roman Godfrey

Requests: “Helloo, I would like to request an imagine of roman Godfrey with smut prompt 28”

“Hii, omg I lover your work!! Can you do fluff prompts 45 and 59 and smut prompts 32 whit Roman Godfrey? Thank you, love💖”

Fluff prompts:

45. “where have you been all my life?”

59. “Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?”

Smut prompts:

28. “Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

32. “I’m going to show you what a real fucking is.”

A/N: I was excited about these request for Roman, I loved it. I hope you guys like.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

Couple: Roman Godfrey/ Fem! Reader.

Warnings: Swearing, explicit smut, NSFW, degradation, dirty talk and also fluff too.

— — — — —

The big white and airy room tried to show a soothing and safe energy, the light tones contrasted with the golden rays of the sun outside and could even try to show a lyrical vibe. Could, if not for everything else.

It was hard to pinpoint the source that messed up that whole idea of ​​peace that the colors on the walls had, but maybe it was because Godfrey Industries was... oblique, mysterious, sinister. There was something in the air, a dark breeze that echoed all the floors of that gigantic building, bringing the feeling that something was out of place. It was, at times, disconcerting. Like looking at a perfect painting but knowing that something is out of place. Or to witness the seconds of frightening calm before a major disaster. But as the months went by, you had to get used to it and adapt to it. Your daydreams wandered far away. You wondered what you were doing there, in that country town that also had that sinister energy.

Why you left Los Angles? Okay, did you know why. After finishing college, you sent out resumes to as many companies as you could. Its from that time when you realize that adult life has knocked on the door and that the cost of living in California was too high. The plan, when you left home to pursue your dream and go to college in another state, was to get a job as soon as possible. But some things got out of your control, and when you realized it, you had graduated and you didn't have enough money to come up with second plans.

So, when the multinational Godfrey Industries called you after an interview and gave you the job, you didn't hesitate. The salary was too good for a international negotiations assistant, and after a while you could breathe easier, and be able to straighten out your financial life and have a better resume to be able to get back to a big city.

It was a good plan, a rational plan. You were proud of that. But it was logical that too much confidence was accompanied by some ruin.

And its ruin came under the name of Roman Godfrey.

Roman was swallowed all the air in any the room when he entered, as if its imposing presence subdued any environment. Everything about him exuded the same objective: to conquer, to possess, to win. He was the Trojan army. But the worst and the most dangerous was not his difficult personality, but how you felt close to him. How his presence caused side effects on you.

He was absolutely gorgeous. It should be considered illegal for someone to have that appearance, that voice, that sinisterly penetrating look. You felt that Roman Godfrey had the aura of intense and exciting music, like the song of danger.

He was the personification of sin, and you were being tested by the universe.

The trinity of what could be a gigantic disaster was completed when, a few months ago, Roman started testing you, joining the universe in what appeared to be a plan to slaughter your sanity.

It was your first meeting with the Company a few weeks after you was hired. Adam, the director of the international negotiations sector, for whom you are an assistant, asked you to bring all the documents of the process and remain in the meeting. It was about an international multi who wanted to buy some equipment from Godfrey Industries, but who were working hard to try to close deals at a lower price.

As you handed a copy of the negotiation to each sector director in that room, you felt a pair of eyes burning the back of your neck the whole time, like your shadow. The caustic sensation ruffled all the hair on the back of your neck, snaking from head to toe and made you search the environment behind the author.

That's when you finding him.

Roman had the green irises stuck to you like a tattoo on your skin. As if unraveling all your secrets, your sins, virtues and all your thoughts. It was intense, magnetic... dangerous.

You felt the white walls of that room were embraced by a black and dark shadow, and the air became thin. Then he smiled. A smug and arrogant little smile. The kind who won a battle.

It had been the beginning of a sequence of events. Roman began to request and make sure that you were present at all meetings, negotiations, cases, even when your presence added much more to your professional knowledge than to contribute to the resolution of company problems. At that time the order was still not directed at you, Adam just told you that Godfrey wanted you at meetings.

It was strange, atypical, almost surreal. You used to go into the conference room and look directly at Roman, frowning in silent questioning at him. But he never gave you an answer. He just gave that smug smile and turned his attention to the big screen in the living room.

This happened five times before Roman sent to tell you that he wanted to see you in his office.

“But why?!" You frowned at Adam.

The man looked at you for a second before shrugging.

“Your work has been impeccable, I think he just wants to give you more things to do.” Adam kept his eyes on the documents themselves.

"But you are my boss.” Sometimes you had a habit of saying what you thought without considering the consequences.

Your mother and your friends said that you had a total inability to hide what you felt, to be someone reserved or shy. You were almost always the person who said everything you felt.

Adam laughed softly, already used to your personality and turned his eyes to you.

“And he is my boss."

You restrained yourself from rolling your eyes. The truth was, you didn't want to find him. Roman puzzled you, messed with your system. And after those 5 meetings without explaining why you were there, you started to want to avoid his presence.

But apparently the universe was not on your side this time.

You got up and excused yourself, listening to your own heels echoing down the hall before entering the elevator and pressing the last button. Going to Godfrey's office.

Anxiety coursed through your veins like overwhelming electricity, making you sway on your heels and stir your fingers.

What did he want with you? Had you done something? Was he crazy?

You sucked in the air hard, shrugging your shoulders to relax when the door opened up. You walked for a while before stopping at Roman's office and knocking on the door with your finger.

“Come in." The voice made your heart skip a few beats.

You walked in, closing the door behind you and laying your eyes on the tall, slender figure who was sitting behind the table, dressed in black pieces and a small smile.

“Did you want to see me, Mr.Godfrey ?"

Maybe it was your imagination or your nervousness that was seeing things in between lines, but you could have sworn that Roman breathed harder after you said his last name.

You stopped in front of his desk, too agitated to sit on the chair.

“Yes, Darling.” He stood up, getting much bigger than you, even though your feet were in a 10 cm heel.

Roman fished a file on the table itself, bypassing the table and coming menacingly close to you. He stood in front of you again, his hip against the table and leaning there, holding out the file for you. You took seconds longer than you would like to pick up the papers, Roman's left leg was dangerously close to yours, the knee almost brushing your thigh covered by the black skirt.

“I need it ready by night."

That's when you came out of the trance, picking up the folder and staring at the amount of stuff there. It was a process about an agreement with a company in Asia, and it was so bureaucratic that it would take up your entire time. And you already had a million things for do.

“But...” You were about to start talking, but Roman moved away from the edge of the table, his chest hovering over yours.

You have never felt so small, so fragile and so vulnerable in your life. You had to lift your chin to face him straight.

“You are going to be a good girl and bring me this tonight.” It was not a request. “You will, right?”

Your common sense or decorum had gone somewhere. Maybe was lost in your own stupidity. The oxygen evaporated from your lungs. And before you could think of something diplomatic and good to say. Because you were not dumb. You heard yourself say:

“Yes, Mr. Godfrey.”

Fucking hell!

“Great.” He gave you a rewarding smile.

From that moment on events like this became routine. In fact, you tried to mask that you liked it, that it wasn't extremely unprofessional, that he was not only your boss, but also the owner of the entire company. Over time you learned to deal with him too, Roman was never brazen or touched you, he would drop some ‘Dear’ or ‘Pretty’ over and over here for you, but, truth be told, you didn’t get uncomfortable.

Perhaps it was your feminine vanity. You didn't want to be selfish, but having a man like Roman Godfrey praise you did wonders for your feminine vanity. You felt absurdly beautiful. He made you feel like the personification of the Female Fatal, and you liked that. So you would roll your eyes at him and give him some jokes smiles in his direction whenever these things happened.

You did not deny it, but you also do not return any praise.

Over the months you had practically become more of an assistant to Roman than to Adam. He kept you getting bogged down with things to do and telling Adam to pass on your old duties to any other goddamn person.

“They accept to close if they have had 30% of the profits.” You put your cell phone down to talk to Roman, who had his hip against the desk work and an open file in his hands.

“They must be stupid” he rolled his eyes “10% and I will still be being generous.”

You went back to your call, your eyes fixed on the top view of the city as you settled the deal.

“I can get them to close by 15% if we send the equipment by tomorrow.” You said to Roman again, plugging the cell phone microphone with your other hand “But it has to be send until the morning. Not next.”

Roman smiled broadly and satisfied, nodding his head in ‘Yes’ as you turned your attention to the city view and finished the negotiation. You were getting the details right when you felt a presence behind you, the heat radiating for your back and making you lose your breath for a second. You swallowed and tried to ignore something vibrating in your core, disconnecting the call as soon as you closed the deal.

“What would I do without you?” Roman's voice blew at the top of your ear, his ghostly touch fanning your skin.

You laughed to try to hide how much your core pulsed, turning around enough to face his completely.

"I don't know, you would have already lost four contracts.” You tried to joke, but he was absurdly close.

The scent of a man and an expensive cologne swallowed you like a wave and dragged you into the sea, drowning you. The emerald green eyes were fixed on you, as if they swallowed you.

“You could work for me.” Godfrey let go, taking another step closer to you.

Instinctively, you took a step back, your back finding the cold glass behind you and trapping you between the cold sensation and the absurd warmth of the man.

"I already work for you.” You said it as if it were obvious, letting out a nervous laugh and trying to clean up how much your uterus vibrated now.

“No, you work more with Adam.” He rolled his eyes, his hand now resting on your hip, rising to your waist like a snake “I speak of you being my assistant, being here when I arrive, spending the all days with me.”

Your heart screamed, your pussy throbbed so hard that if Roman hadn't paid attention to you, you would have bitten your lip.

“Are you flirting with me?”

"You finally noticed?"

There was no way to deny to yourself that you had already reached your share of perverted dreams with Roman Godfrey. He was like an addiction! It was unbearable how present he was always in your head, playing with your sanity, making you think of how those absurdly long fingers would fuck you so well, how those impeccable clothes hid a maddening body.

And that was exactly why you couldn't be him assistant.

If it was already overwhelmingly difficult to occasionally remain in him presence without diverting your thoughts, every day would be impossible. All the time. You would end up having to resign your job after, because any involvement between you would not result in a happy ending. Aside from being extremely unethical, it would end up destroying your heart, and God, you needed the job!

"M-Mr Godfrey." You tried to speak, touching his chest with the palm of your hand with the intention of gently pushing him away.

But the shot backfired. He was cold. Absurdly cold. Cold that makes you want to warm up, an addictive, that intoxicates you. Suddenly, you are already wondering if other parts of it would be cold too.

Would the kiss contain the beauty and temperature of the snow? When Roman entered you, would he be consumed by the heat of your needy walls? He Would it stick to you like a private sun?

“Pretty.” Godfrey sighed against your cheek, dangerously lowering his lips in your direction. “Why not stay with me? Where can I fuck you every day? ”

This time you moaned, a low moan that gave up all of your game. It lit a dangerous, vital fire in Roman's eyes, and him hand, which once touched you softly, now snaked into your waist, pulling you close.

“Do you like to hear that? That I want to fuck you until you scream?” You closed your fingers on him black dress shirt, closing your lip between your teeth to contain a groan.

Roman's mouth went to your neck, pouring wet, surprisingly hot kisses onto your skin.

"Would you like to know that I have imagined fucking you hard for a long time?” His hands went to the hem of your skirt. “That I want to tag you with my cum until you're just mine?"

“Mr.Go-Godfrey!” You moaned loudly, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting your head go back and lean against the glass wall.

“Tell me, Pretty.” He lifted his lips to hover over yours “Tell me you want this as much as I do.”

You frantically ascended your head, letting a 'Yes' leave with a low sob.

Thereafter Roman wasted no time. He pulled you onto his lap by your thighs, placing you under his desk and throwing all objects on the table with one arm. He kissed you. Furiously. He kissed you as if you were his property, as if you were the answer to all his prayers, his divinity. Your mouth opened to get air and Roman took the opportunity to invade with his tongue, hunting you.

You groaned, or he, or both.

"I'm going to show you what a real fucking is." Roman snarled against your mouth, not considering any consequences before popping all the buttons on your shirt with a two-handed tug, making you gasp.

That seemed to bring you back to Earth.

You pulled your chest away from him, and Roman looked up at you with a questioning expression.

“Ro-Roman, this is wrong.” you said.

“You have no idea how much I don’t give a fuck.” He leaned over to kiss you again, extremely excited by the sight of you in a lacy bra, but you averted your face by placing your hands on him chest.

You said. “I'm going to have to resign this job later if I do it, and I need the job.”

Romam snorted, straightening up again.

“Who says you need to resign? Did you forget that I am the owner of this crap?” He brought his lips to your neck once more, and you sighed softly “Be mine. Be mine."

“I don’t know.”

Romam held your face in his hands, in a gentle touch, which clashed absurdly with the lush fire in his eyes.

“I don't want to fuck you because you work here, but because I think you're fucking beautiful.” He said “Be mine, and if you don't want anything to do with me afterwards, that's okay, let's keep working normally.” Roman moved closer, his voice hitting your mouth “Let me fuck this hot pussy, I'm sure you'll want more later. And I will give you everything you want.”

So you gave in. You kissed him fiercely, spreading your legs wider and settling them between them, letting the skirt roll to pile on your hips and exposing lace panties. Roman reaching down to your back and removing your bra, dropping your mouth over your left breast when it was exposed.

You moaned loudly, throwing your head back, curling your fingers in his hair and sighing when Godfrey moved his fingers down the middle of your legs. You whimpered, rummaging around in his hand for some friction, needy and needy.

Roman laughed arrogantly against your breast: “Such a needy little thing, aren't you?” He took a bite out of your left beak as he walked away to remove his belt.

You groaned, your eyes on fire, your body hot and needy. And that's when Roman looked at you. A hot fucking woman half naked at his table, so beautiful and perfect that it was almost a sin. He wanted to be able to record that scene forever. You were perfect. He thought you were extraordinarily perfect.

Then he rushed ferociously at you again, his hands wrapped around your hot body as he moaned on your lips: "Where have you been all my life?"

You gasped, finishing the job of his belt and pants, fighting a battle with his tongue.

“Waiting for this moment.” You provoked it with a sensual chuckle, nibbling on his lower lip.

Roman shared your sly smile, tearing at your panties and holding his own dick in your direction. You moaned louder this time, in need, lowering your hands to his hips and rolling around his waist, trying to get closer.

Roman laughed, sinking his mouth into yours and also plunging his dick into yours smooth folds.

You screamed out loud, clasping your body to his while Roman put an arm around your waist, gluing your body to his and hitting the stick at the end of the well, drawing out a loud groan from both of you. The environment was filled with moaning and pornographic sounds, the table rattling beneath you as the things that were left on top now fell completely. You wrapped your arms around his neck, clenching your nails at the back of your neck as you wrapped your legs around Roman's hips, pulling him further into you and swallowing him completely.

“Holy fuck!” He snarled, lowering his mouth to meet your neck and shoulder, closing his teeth there as he demanded more force in his movements.

Godfrey beat without mercy, without pause, conquering and proclaiming his every piece of your body as his own. You could no longer control your moans, all the sensations exploded inside you like nuclear bombs and pleasure and pain curved all your lines of reasoning. You laid your back on the table, your breasts jumping with the speed and strength of him movements, while Roman clasped his hands on your waist and set a brighter pace as he pulled you onto his dick and propelled your hips at you.

“So fuck hot slut!” He growled, never stopping the pace.

You shouted something that looked like him name, and threw your head back when the orgasm invaded your system, shaking your legs and pulling him deeper. Roman moaned loudly, squeezing your flesh so tightly that it would leave marks tomorrow, while he cum inside you, spilling all the hot liquid on your barriers.

You were sweaty and panting, but Roman didn't give you a second to breathe and process the situation until he leaned over to you, still inside your core, and kissed your right breast, dropping one:

“Dinner at my place tomorrow?”

You laughed, still very airy, and agreed, overcome by tiredness.

“Okay, Godfrey.” Roman gave you another lunge of teasing, making your laugh mix with a groan.